Ciel leaned his chin against his hand, elbow against the desk at which he sat. All across the tabletop were scattered sheets of paper, all headed with some attempt at debriefing addressed to her majesty. But how was he to explain what he hardly understood himself? All of this was so surreal. The queen, admittedly, was not easily surprised. But this, even to Ciel, was particularly unfathomable. He stood and removed the wooden chess set from the cabinet in the office, unpacking it and laying it atop the desk, pushing aside the scores of unfinished letters. He set up the 32 pieces on their respective sides of the board. The white places, Ciel thought, looked innocent, unmarred by experience, untouched by horror, anger and devastation. Ciel had often been told his soul was pure, but nevertheless, he didn't see himself in such favourable light. The black set, however, were different. Black spoke of intensity, of oblivion, of everything at fullness. Black was elegant, professional – yet tainted, impure, tar-like memories sticking to the soul. Ciel reached for the black pawn, disregarding his non-existent opponent's right as white to move first.

"Sebastian." Ciel muttered as he put the pawn down with a click and the door to his office rang with a knock.

Ciel looked up and the butler walked in, laying a tea-set atop the desk.

"Speak of the devil." Ciel mumbled.

"And he shall appear." Sebastian smiled slyly.

Ciel watched curiously as Sebastian brewed and poured the tea into one of the cups.

"Why are there two cups in the service?" he asked, scooping up cup and saucer and sipping. Honey and lemon, Ciel noted with mild interest.

"A young Lord never knows when and whom one might entertain." Sebastian answered, and turned, leaving the room to attend to the loud knock on the main doors which rung through the bowels of the manor.

Contemplatively, the Earl stirred his tea. When his butler made comments like that, it was usually a forewarning. The prompt arrival of a house guest suffixing this comment only served to heighten his suspicion. He picked up a clean sheet of parchment and began his letter to the Queen anew. This time, he felt as if he could articulate the highly unusual events both candidly and whilst refraining from startling her majesty overly. However, he had been writing only over five minutes when a commotion made him lay down his quill.

"Will, move yourself!"

Magnus's voice rang out and Ciel looked up curiously.

"But...Magnus, I..."

"We cannot d anything while you are here. We are not asking you to venture to the moon, just to wait in the hall!"

"I can't!" Will yelled back, sounding more anguished and frustrated than Ciel had ever heard him. "Jem needs me! What if something goes wrong?"

"Then we will call you." A female voice said, with sympathy. "If you wait close by then if something does go wrong, we can call you to Jem's side. But you have to trust us. We know what we are doing. Try and get some bed rest if you can, Will. We will call you if anything at all happens. If there is anything we think you ought to know, I promise you will be the first to know."

Will made no response and, a moment later, a door clicked softly closed.

Ciel stood up and pushed open his office door, peeking out cautiously and looking up and down the hall. He walked down the corridor and turned the corner toward the end of the room in which Jem resided. But his eyes travelled down to the floor. Sat on the carpet against the wall next to Jem's door, sat Will, with his head in his hands, gasping quietly and irregularly. Ciel faltered and lingered where he was for a while. He looked around for anyone who might be of better help. But Jem was ill, Magnus looking after him, and the Lightwoods had gone back to London to alert Charlotte of what had happened to Jem. It was just Ciel and Will. Mourning, while he had suffered in the state more than could be expected for his age, was not something he was equipped to deal with in others. But as standoffish as Ciel could be, he prided himself on his hospitality to guests. He had enjoyed his stay in Will's home and felt he should offer the same welcome – though the likelihood of Will enjoying his stay at the Phantomhive manor was slim.

"Will," he said shortly. "Are you alright?"

Instantly, Will fell still and silent, breath evening out, no longer coming in gasps. He looked up at Ciel, glaring. His long dark eyelashes clung together and his cheekbones were glossy but he still looked as if he could kill Ciel with his thumb.

"What?" he demanded tersely, the subtext clearly reading 'Please go anywhere but here'.

"Would you like some tea?" Ciel asked, thinking back to Sebastian's words – tea was practically synonymous with hospitality.

"No." Will answered sharply, no trace of vulnerability or weakness in his voice.

"Will, you are not helping yourself."

The shadowhunter looked up with such concentrated, cold fury, it was murderous.

"I beg your pardon?" he said witheringly.

"That was not what I intended to say." Ciel said. "I apologise. What I was meant was...a word of advice. If you sit where you are they will be able to hear you in there." He nodded to Jem's door. "And they will not examine Jem with you loitering there. But I have an office just here, where you will hear if anything goes wrong and be able to run straight back to Jem if needs be."

Will hesitated.

"Two seconds will not make a difference." Ciel added.

"But what if it does?" Will said quietly.

"Trust me." The younger boy replied, thinking back over the years to the night of his parents' death – how slowly the manor burnt. "It won't. Come with me."

Then he turned back down the hall, followed a moment later by the sound of another pair of footsteps.

Ciel picked up his abandoned cup of tea on its saucer. He poured Will a cup and pushed the tea service across the desk. Will sat down opposite him at the desk.

"Will," Ciel said carefully. "May I ask you a question?"

Will nodded cautiously.

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I am not..." Will trailed off. "No one can understand, not like Jem can. They cannot understand that...I..." he looked long and hard at Ciel. "I am cursed." He forced out through a throat dry of all moisture. His hand spasmed into a fist in his lap and he set his teacup – in his other hand – down with a dull clink. He looked up, blue eyes wild with how Ciel might react.

"Oh." The younger boy said calmly. "Care to explain?"

Will looked up incredulously. It had taken months for him to say those words to Jem, who had reacted by vehemently denying it, insistently Will was too good a person for that to be true – disbelieving, if supportive. Ciel was different. There was no pressure on Will to prove himself right or wrong, to make him believe it was true. Ciel, it seemed, deserved more credit than Will had awarded him. And so Will plunged into burbling, rapid explanation, stumbling over his words in his haste and fear, desperate to voice to someone – anyone – the terrors that he alone had harboured for years. And, as he finished, he realised something: whilst his fear for Jem's deteriorated health had not lessened, the overwhelming weight of ending up all alone was not so great.

"You have not told anyone of this, save for Jem as he is weak." Ciel observed. "So why tell me?"

"I get the feeling that you are quite well-protected, as Sebastian's hand." Will said wryly. "No curse may stand up against such a competent butler."

Ciel nodded, amused. "You are quite right. People rarely end up well against the Phantomhive hospitality."

"Have you never wanted to try and disprove it?" Ciel asked.

"The curse?" Will clarified, picking up his teacup and sipping contemplatively. "What would be the point?"

"You have never wished to disprove?"

Will smiled down into the bottom of his cup. "Jem once said to me that if the curse was real, he would have died by now."

"That is true, is it not?" Ciel pointed out.

Will's eyes met Ciel's. "If Jem's current condition is not proof enough, I do not know what is."

Ciel held Will's gaze and came to a decision.

"Will," he said. "I wish to tell you something, but I do not know how to explain. You...your occupation may stop you from understanding. You must let me tell you."

"Just explain yourself, Ciel." Will said.

"I...Sebastian is..."

"My Lord."

Ciel stopped mid sentence and Will turned in his seat to see Sebastian at the door.

"My apologies for the interruption, gentlemen, but Mr Bane and Miss Loss have requested Master Herondale."

Will leapt to his feet, looking shaky and uncertain – terrified despite his haste. He nodded in thanks to Ciel, who appeared shaken, and followed Sebastian from the room, only refraining from racing down the hall to Jem's room by sheer force of will.