Chapter Text
Days passed.
Life at the Phantomhive manor settled into an oddly domestic rhythm.
I spent most mornings in the library. Not out of curiosity, but necessity. I’d curl up in the tall window nook with a book balanced on my knee and tea that I always forgot to finish: legal texts, occult theory, Victorian etiquette guides - whatever caught my eye. The mix was almost comical, but it made me feel prepared. All of this information should become useful at one point or another; might as well cram as much as possible into my frontal cortex.
By the time the sun angled low enough to throw amber light across the library floor, I’d trade parchment for push-ups.
I started exercising in my room. Quietly. Strategically. There was nothing glamorous about it - sore arms, stiff joints, breath coming in gasps - it’s been a while. But it made me feel like I had some sort of control. It made me feel like my energy was going into a positive coping skill that would protect me in the case I had to face another reaper.
Wait...oh god….PLEASE tell me my gym membership is automatically cancelled. I just know my bills are wracking up as I’m stuck here.
Bit by bit, I’d started to reclaim the guest room I was given. Slowly making it mine, one piece at a time. A floral curtain I found while wandering a storage room in the manor full of old textiles. A tiny brass candlestick Mey-rin was throwing out, but I managed to make it look nice with a bit of TLC. A worn copy of Jane Eyre tucked onto the nightstand. Small things that looked like nothing to anyone else, but they felt like ways of making my space my own little escape if the world gets too loud.
In the corner of the room, just below the window, I’d made a space for my altar. Nothing flashy. I wasn’t stupid - I wasn’t about to start calling down spirits with a literal demon in the house. But it wasn’t about that anyway. My practice has always been quiet.
I sat cross-legged in front of it, fingers lightly resting on my knees, eyes half-lidded. Just breathing. Letting the stillness do what it needed to. No chants, no show. Just the flame, and the memory of my mother’s voice telling me that strength wasn’t always loud. Meditation was always my strongest point in my practice as a pagan. It forces me to ground myself, and every step is intentional. Make peace with the things you can’t control. Then put one foot in front of the other.
A knock at the door pulled me gently back.
“Come in,” I called.
The door opened with a soft creak.
Sebastian.
“Miss Thatcher,” he said with his usual unshakable calm. “Dinner is ready.”
I stood, brushing the hem of my skirt. “Thanks. I’ll be right down.”
His gaze flicked toward the altar. Not long enough to feel invasive. Just long enough to let me know he noticed. His expression didn’t shift, but something in his eyes… flickered. Not judgment. More like recognition. Or curiosity.
Sebastian and I haven’t exchanged many words since the night we returned to the manor. Sure, every morning he acts as my clock for when food is ready- but other than that, we haven’t had too many quips to one another since then.
Tonight’s meal was delicate. Pan-seared duck with winter vegetables and a red wine sauce that looked expensive enough to have a name. It was definitely a step up from my nightly ramen noodles or takeout because I’d just be too exhausted to make a full meal after a 12 hour shift.
“Miss Thatcher,” Ciel began, “I’ve noticed you’ve taken well to the library.”
“It keeps me occupied with all the free time around the manor,” I said with a small smile.
Ciel’s lips curved - barely. But it was there. He and I have grown a little closer since the funeral. It isn’t much, but casual conversation during mealtimes is better than nothing at all.
“I’m surprised,” he said at last, setting down his fork. “Most outsiders dropped into a different time would be screaming for the nearest door out. Or a priest.”
“I still might,” I replied. “Depends on how many near-death experiences I’ll face next.”
Another almost-smile. I’ll take that win.
“But in all seriousness,” Ciel added, voice cooling into something more formal, “your assistance during the Jack the Ripper affair was... competent. Unexpectedly so.”
Coming from him, that was practically a standing ovation.
“I wasn’t going to stand by and watch people die,” I said. “Besides, I have this charming habit of throwing myself into danger like a lunatic. Thought I’d stay consistent.”
Sebastian gave an amused sound, something between a hum and a smirk.
Ciel looked down at his plate. He hadn’t eaten much. Just a few bites, mostly rearranged. The way he held his fork now, limp between his fingers, said more than he likely intended to.
I tread carefully. The boy had more emotional walls than Buckingham Palace had guards.
“You don’t have to talk about it, but if you ever want to—”
“I won’t.” The words landed like the snap of a closed book.
He stood, chair scraping lightly against the polished floor. “I have correspondence to attend to,” he said, already moving toward the door. “Sebastian, make sure she gets dessert. She seems to find comfort in sweets.”
And just like that - he was gone.
I stared at the spot he’d left behind, then down at his barely touched plate…as far as I know, he also seems to like sweets. So for him to get up before it was served? Avoiding the topic.
“He’s managing,” Sebastian said lightly.
I arched my brow. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“Humans tend to avoid such matters.”
I sighed and reached for the tea. “Avoidance is common in grief.” I took a long sip, the tea burning slightly down my throat.
Ciel hadn’t eaten much.
And no matter how carefully I reached, he pulled away like someone who couldn’t afford to be touched.
But I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Promise me…make sure he doesn't lose his way?”
I made a promise to Angelina, and I intended to keep it.
—————-
Morning broke slowly and golden rays peeked through the curtains. For once, I woke without dread coiled in my stomach.
I stretched beneath the thick duvet, muscles pleasantly sore from yesterday’s workout. The manor was quiet. The birds were singing. The usual ominous stillness was replaced by something almost… gentle.
I sat up, hair a mess, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Maybe I’d read something light this morning. Maybe even sneak a few extra minutes with my tea before the household whirred back to life. Maybe I’ll take a jog around the garden, take advantage of this beautiful morning.
Hmm…wonder what the servants are up to.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and—
Bang
The door flew open so hard it rebounded off the wall.
I jumped like I’d been shot.
Ciel stood in the doorway.
In a robe, his usually perfect hair was slightly mussed, and he looked - not angry. Not even tired. Panicked.
“Get dressed,” he snapped, marching two steps into the room like he owned it. “Now. Something proper.”
My mouth opened. “What—”
“I said now.” He spun on his heel and stormed out without answering.
I stared, gaping at the open door.
“Uh-“
“Miss Thatcher,” came the smooth, knowing voice of Sebastian, drifting in as he appeared in the doorway like a shadow made of velvet.
His gloves were already on, his posture perfect, his smile… mildly amused.
“The young master apologizes for the abruptness of his entrance,” he said with a slight bow. “However, I’m afraid it is urgent. Lady Francis Midford will be arriving within the hour.”
I blinked. “Francis… Midford?”
“His aunt,” Sebastian said, straightening. “And the Marchioness of Midford.”
“Oh- so Lizzie’s mom? What is she like?”
“She is… a woman of exacting standards,” he said delicately. “And she does not take kindly to disorder. Or impropriety. Or non-aristocratic behavior. And most certainly not to surprises living in her nephew’s house.”
I squinted. “So she doesn’t know I’m here.”
“She will,” he said cheerfully, “in about fifty-six minutes.”
“Great.” I grit through my teeth in a tight smile.
———-
I stood beside Ciel at the base of the grand staircase, my hands folded neatly in front of me, spine so straight it hurt. Although my earthy blouse and walking skirt combo was simple, it was all part of a strategy to dedicate as much time to pinning my hair back as neatly as possible. A strategy that succeeded in the nick of time.
Sebastian stood just behind and to the side of his young master, as poised as ever, not a single line out of place on his tailcoat.
It was like standing in formation for judgment day.
Ciel had changed into one of his more formal outfits - a deep navy coat, silver cufflinks, polished boots- but it was clear he was rushed. His hair was still a little mussed and his face gleamed with a small sheen of nervous sweat.
A carriage pulled around the corner quietly and with it came a tension that was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
Out stepped Lady Francis Midford.
She was tall. Regal. A silhouette carved out of steel. Her green eyes were sharp, knowing. Her hair was pulled into a sleek, low ponytail without a single strand out of place. Dressed in a crisp gray traveling coat with pearl buttons, not a wrinkle in sight. And at her side -
“Olivia!” came the breathy, bright voice of Elizabeth, cheeks flushed with excitement. “It’s wonderful to see you again!”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Hey, Lizzie.”
But her voice was promptly drowned out by the sharp clack of Lady Midford’s heels as she marched forward with all the menace of a war general spotting insubordination.
“Ciel.”
He bowed slightly. “Aunt Francis.”
Her eyes scanned him from head to toe. “Your collar is wrinkled.”
He didn’t flinch, but I could practically hear the internal sigh.
Then she turned her laser gaze on Sebastian.
“You let him greet a noble guest with a crooked collar?”
“My sincerest apologies, Lady Midford,” Sebastian said with a smooth bow. “I will see to it that the tailor is disciplined.”
Oof. Harsh.
Finally - her eyes landed on me.
I felt the weight of them like a sword to the throat. Assessing. Calculating. As though mentally sorting me into neat little boxes: polite, improper, dangerous, disposable.
“And you are?” she said slowly, her brow rising slightly in judgment.
I opened my mouth before she could go further.
“Olivia Thatcher, ma’am,” I said with a respectful curtsy, silently thanking the goddesses I came across that etiquette book. “I’m a recent associate of the Phantomhive household, hired with the intent of assisting in forensic and investigative study for cases involving… unusual circumstances. I was hired recently and came from America as soon as I received the invitation.”
A pause.
Even Lizzie stopped bouncing beside her mother.
Lady Midford raised one brow. Just one.
“Well. It’s about time my nephew surrounded himself with someone practical.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not dressed like a noblewoman, which is a relief. You didn’t try to curtsy incorrectly. And you speak like someone who is well-versed in literacy.” She turned slightly to Ciel. “Perhaps this is the one decision in your life you’ve managed to make wisely.”
Ciel looked mildly insulted. Sebastian looked positively gleeful. I fought the urge to exhale in total relief.
“Thank you,” I said carefully, bowing my head slightly. “I’m glad to be of service.”
“See that you are,” she replied crisply, before turning to her daughter. “Elizabeth, your posture.”
“Yes, Mother!” Lizzie chirped, straightening instantly. Adorable.
Francis snapped back to Sebastian in an instant and I could swear her glare got far more menacing.
Sebastian bowed once again, “Forgive my master for the faux pas of his collar. It has been a while since I saw you last, Marchioness.”
Silence.
“You have traveled a great distance to be here.”
She nearly stomped up to him, still silently glaring.
“Ah…might there be something on my fa-“
Her arm suddenly shot out and snatched the front parts of Sebastian’s hair, yanking the pieces up so hard I could swear I saw his hairline straining.
“You look LECHEROUS. Both you and your master are sporting long bangs, though you’re both male! It’s unseemly!”
Before I knew it, she pulled out a comb like it was a hidden weapon and she got to work. Cleaning up Sebastian and Ciel, who simultaneously looked like they’d rather be ANYWHERE else right now.
“Apologies for troubling you…Aunt Francis…” The young boy said.
Lady Midford gave a satisfied huff and swept forward into the manor like she owned it, her heels echoing ominously into the hall.
“That went… weirdly well,” I said under my breath.
“Don’t get used to it,” he replied.
Sebastian leaned in, voice honey-smooth. “Congratulations, Miss Thatcher. You have passed the Midford Trial. That is no small feat.”
“I just got lucky, but maybe next time she visits, I’m wearing body armor. Don’t want to end up like you two.” I tried to repress a snicker when his brow twitched. “That forehead is just BEGGING for a plane to land.”
“A…plane?”
Lady Midford suddenly turned with crossed arms at attention, her voice booming like a drill sergeant.
“I drop in on you, and you’re still a layabout, not to mention your butler looks like a degenerate! Don’t even get me started on you failing to inform me of a guest.”
O u c h this boy isn’t getting grilled, he’s getting flambé-d.
“You are to marry my daughter. On this day of days, your reformation begins! Nothing will escape my notice! We’ll start with the manor! After all, a disorderly home reflects an addled mind!”
Sebastian bowed at this, “Very well, I shall guide you.”
Ciel pulled on his coat behind him, muttering a small ‘hey’.
He turned to us and gave us a wink. “Not to worry, sir. I made certain everything was perfect yesterday.”
Ah- so that’s a relief. I was glad to escape Lady Midford’s wrath, but I felt AWFUL for Ciel. I could definitely relate to having overbearing family members. My grandmother, for example. Part of me still thought about her here and there, but I mostly thanked the gods I didn’t have to deal with her blowing up my phone for the upteenth time during a double asking me if I remembered to take the trash out that week…then proceeded to call me a pig when I said I forgot. Ahhh, gotta love the older generation.
Welp. As long as everything is under Sebastian’s freakishly capable hands, this day will be a cakewalk.
“I will first show you the inner courtyard. This year the winter roses we ordered from Germany are quite lo-“
As he opened the door, I could faintly hear the sound of someone humming merrily off tune. Peeking over his shoulder, I caught sight of Finny- with a…bunch of the German roses in his hand and the courtyard in disarray.
Sebastian- understandably - shut the door quietly before Francis could see past us.
“My mistake.” He recovered quickly with a smile. “I wanted to show you the living room first.”
“Why? Now that we’re here, we could begin with the innermost courtyar-“
“The living room, I insist. The roses we ordered from Germany are at their best now, but we would like for you to see them at noon when they’re in full bloom. We will be able to show you the innermost courtyard soon enough”
“Something was wrong?” Ciel muttered out next to me, looking downcast.
“Mmm-hm.” I hum.
“The living room was just renovated the other day. We ordered the most handsomely patterned wallpaper from France.”
He opened the door and another familiar voice squeaked out a ‘oh dear’…then we heard a collective shattering noise before Sebastian once again, closed the door quickly.
Mey-Rin that time, I took it.
“My mistake.” He recovers again. “Why do you not take tea in the conservatory?”
“Why? We came to look at the living room”
“Tea, I insist. You ladies must be exhausted from riding in a cramped carriage for long hours. I apologize for not realizing sooner. I cannot believe my audacity…there is space for you to relax in the conservatory, so please enjoy some tea and light snacks.”
Real smooth, butler. Ciel remains next to me, shuttering next to a clueless Lizzie.
“We just had the most exquisite oranges delivered from Spain, so perhaps the shalimar tea from Dimbu-“
BOOM
An explosion erupted in the direction of the conservatory- the portraits rattling on the walls from the blast.
“Another mistake, was it?” Francis glared sternly, tapping her foot.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if demons could pop a blood vessel. Because I could tell Sebastian wanted NOTHING MORE in that moment then to wring the poor servant’s necks.
Granted- they meant well- but oh god…this really couldn’t wait until any other day?
Sebastian gave a deep bow of apology. “I beg your forgiveness. One such as I- had forgotten that there was something else we wanted the marchioness to see. Though it’s no place to guide a lady. Let us visit the stables.”
——————
The scent of hay, leather, and horses hit me like a brick wall the second we reached the stables. It was earthy and oddly comforting, even if the heels of my boots were already sticking slightly in the straw-covered floor.
Lady Francis walked with confidence as she made a calculated expression in front of a beautiful black mare.
Sebastian bowed slightly, keeping pace at her side.
“We sent for a horse with a magnificent blueish-black coat to serve as our master’s steed,” he explained, his voice cool as steel dipped in honey. “We’ve been looking forward to the day you might have a look.”
“Oh my,” Francis breathlessly sighs, “A fine horse, indeed. The hip is sturdy…it looks well…”
She suddenly snapped her fingers with a smirk. “I’ve got it.” She turned to Ciel. “What say we do a little hunting together.”
Ciel visibly tensed slightly. “With you, Aunt Francis?”
“It would be a good opportunity to see how good a man my daughter’s fiancé is…or…is hunting too demanding for Earl Phantomhive, who possesses a constitution more common to the fairer sex?”
DAMN. Those were definite fighting words.
“Very well. Sebastian, prepare the horses.”
“Yes, my lord.”
And with that, the game was afoot.
——
I drifted toward one of the horses a few moments later, a dark chestnut with an almost iridescent sheen to his coat. He watched me with alert eyes, snorting softly as I approached.
“What’s his name?” I asked over my shoulder.
Sebastian’s voice drifted from behind me like silk across skin. “That one is Usher.”
I turned slightly. “As in Edgar Allen Poe?”
“Indeed,” he said, appearing beside me like a shadow with perfect posture. “The young master is a fan of the author. He’s named quite a few of them after his works.”
I turned my attention back to Usher and reached out a careful hand, letting him sniff my fingers before brushing along his neck. He seemed to like it, snorting as it leaned into my palm.
“So…” I cleared my throat. “Anything I should know before I accidentally get bucked halfway to Manchester?”
Sebastian gave a light chuckle. “A few things. Do not mount from the wrong side. Do not tug the reins without reason. Keep your knees tight but not stiff. And whatever you do, keep a clear mind.”
“Seems easy enough.” I said, stroking the mane.
“Horses are prey animals,” he said, stepping slightly closer, his voice dropping to something lower. “Sudden movements or panic can startle them. And if that happens… even I may not be able to catch you in time.”
I swallowed and nodded. “Got it. Calm. Controlled. No shrieking.”
He gave a slight nod toward the saddle. “Have you ridden before?”
I shook my head, “Nope. Where I lived prior was nothing but the city and wetlands. Not exactly the best terrain for a horse.”
His brow arched, elegant and amused. He stepped forward with grace.
“Then allow me.”
Before I could object, his hands found my waist.
It was not delicate.
It was effortless. Like I weighed nothing. Like I was a feather.
But to me, it was seismic.
My breath caught.
His gloves were smooth leather against my blouse, but the heat of his touch seeped through like fire through silk. The strength of it - a firm, practiced grip at my hips - sent a jolt of something I absolutely wasn’t going to name straight to my stomach.
I landed lightly in the saddle, blinking down at him, doing my best not to gape. He stepped back, hands falling behind his back once more, the perfect image of restraint.
I- can’t remember the last time a man picked me up like that. Or…if any man has ever had the balls to try it for that matter. I was on the fuller side, so he should’ve shown at least a bit of strain. And yet…
He lifted me like I was a sack of flour and it made my cheeks burn.
“Thank you,” I said, a little too fast, adjusting my bun to rest as a braid over my left shoulder.
He inclined his head. “Of course, Miss Thatcher.”
I cleared my throat and adjusted in the saddle, trying to shake the flutter. The quiet way he made power look casual. And the way his eyes lingered, just a fraction too long, like he was cataloguing something unspoken. Jesus…
I looked down at Usher’s ears, focusing hard.
Dear gods, I’m repressed as hell.
———-
We rode our horses along a trail in the forest on the outskirts of the manor, the crisp breeze ruffling in the leaves of holly. The trees began to break in little shimmers of sunlight as we approached a clearing.
“We shall begin here.” Sebastian says, pulling out his pocket watch. “The rules are as follows: maintain your territory twenty five meters on either side. Avoid aiming for birds lower than the required altitude. Are we agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, the game is now underway. The time limit is slated for three hours.”
Francis wasted no time, giving her reins a practiced tug which caused the horse to begin trotting quickly. “See you, Ciel!”
“Lizzie, get off here and ride with Miss Thatcher. I can’t hunt, otherwise.” Ciel instructed.
“Awwww, but we finally get to spend time together.” She wines in protest, ever the sweetie.
A gunshot rings out in the distance and I jump slightly at the sound. Already?!
“1 - nil.” Sebastian calls the shot. “As expected of the marchioness, she has already shot a pheasant. It seems she’ll be a formidable opponent for you, young master.”
Ciel’s blue eye sharpened with a sudden focus and he snapped his rifle into the air, firing a shot that made Lizzie cry out in surprise. It immediately hit a pheasant dead on.
Damn- that eyepatch cannot hold that boy back, a clean shot.
“Lizzie, it’s dangerous here, so stay with Sebastian and Miss Thatcher, alright?”
It was precious, watching Lizzie’s eyes glitter as she was assisted over to sit behind me on Usher. Ciel took off in the other direction once he ensured she was safely on. Ever the gentleman.
I smile as I glance behind me to the girl. “Makes you feel like a princess, huh?”
Lizzie held tightly to my waist, her cheek resting briefly against my back as we rode at a slow pace along the trail. The sunlight was dappling through the trees now, golden and warm, making the shadows flicker softly across the path like ghost stories the wind whispered. Sebastian walking along beside us.
“He seems happier,” Lizzie said suddenly, her voice quieter than usual. Almost hesitant.
I glanced over my shoulder at her, one hand still on the reins. “You mean Ciel?”
She nodded, twirling a piece of her ribbon between her fingers. “He still keeps everything so locked up. But today… I don’t know. He looked like himself a little more. Like he wasn’t carrying the whole world on his shoulders for once. Aunt An loved him best, so I was worried.”
There was something in her tone - something soft and aching, older than it had any right to be for a girl her age.
I let the silence settle a second before I said, “That’s probably because you’re here. You’re like a little pocket of sunshine wrapped up in pink ribbon.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I know I can be… a bit much,” she said, her voice barely audible over the gentle creak of the saddle. “I just don’t want Ciel to suffer anymore. I always try to cheer him up in my own way, but…it never seems to work out.” she trailed off, hugging me tighter. “I always tend to overdo things and make him angry.”
“The young master is not one to express himself freely,” Sebastian said, his tone softer than usual. “But that does not mean he is blind to affection. Nor immune to it.”
I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “He notices more than he lets on. He’s just... built like a locked door with a thousand keys, and every key is probably guarded by riddles and booby traps.”
Lizzie gave a small laugh.
“You don’t need to be perfect for him to love you, Lizzie,” I said, looking back at her. “You just need to be yourself. That’s already more than enough.”
She wiped her cheek with the edge of her sleeve, cheeks flushed. “I guess I just want to be strong, like him. Like my mother. Like you.”
“Me?” I blinked.
“You’re very brave,” she said earnestly. “And smart. You face scary things and don’t give up. That’s strong. I don’t think I know many ladies who can stand the sight of a corpse.”
I felt my throat tighten. For all the things I had been called in my life, that one always landed differently when it came from someone who actually meant it.
Sebastian glanced at me then, just briefly, with something almost resembling approval.
“The young master would not allow just anyone to remain at the manor,” he said smoothly, “let alone join him in the field. Your presence, Miss Thatcher, is already a mark of distinction.”
I coughed into my hand, trying not to go pink. “Let’s not get carried away now.”
Lizzie leaned forward again, her smile back on her face, resting her chin on my shoulder.
The sound of another rifle shot cracked through the air - not far off. Ciel, probably. Another perfect shot.
“5-4, it is a close contest. Let’s cheer them both on, shall we?” Sebastian said.
——————
Three hours later and we reconvened in the clearing where Sebastian took the time to set a large table while me and Lizzie busied ourselves with idle chit chat.
The game was impressive, both contestants bringing back a good amount in their saddles. Sebastian counted the game and we awaited the results.
“The marchioness shot ten pheasants, a brace of foxes, and three rabbits for a total of fifteen points. The young master has shot eleven pheasants, three foxes, and a rabbit for a total of fifteen points. The result is a draw, is that acceptable?”
“It most certainly is not! I prefer definitive results one way or another!” Lady Francis huffed, crossing her arms.
Ciel leans on his elbow on the table with a smirk on his face, “How odd, Aunt Francis. It appears we agree on this point.”
Ah~ two competitive spirits in action in familial beef.
“Then the tie will be broken by another round in the afternoon.” Sebastian suggested.
The two agreed without hesitation.
“I dare say, we may have over hunted here. We’ll have to find a new location for the afternoon.” The marchioness suggests as Sebastian pours her a glass of red wine.
“Not to worry, my lady. Big game still lurks on these grounds.”
“Well, now that the rules have been decided. Let’s eat some lunch.” I smiled, itching to dig into the kidney pie that was prepared.
“Indeed! It smells divi-“
A small crunching noise interrupted the young girl from behind.
The sound of twigs snapping made my blood run cold.
From the thicket just beyond the clearing, something massive stirred - dark fur shifting like liquid shadow between the trees. The brush gave way as the creature lumbered into view. Towering right behind Elizabeth.
A black bear. Fuck- black bears are no joke.
In one blink Ciel was at Lizzie’s side, shoving her out of the way and directing his back to the bear - shielding her.
"Lizzie!" he barked, low and fierce.
Francis had already pivoted like a soldier trained for war, her gloved hands didn’t shake as she raised her rifle with lightning speed.
Bang.
The shot cracked like thunder. The bear snarled, rearing back from the sudden pain. The bullet struck just below its shoulder - but it didn’t drop. Blood sprayed, but it only seemed to enrage the beast.
“Again!” Ciel barked.
She didn’t hesitate.
Bang.
The second shot hit clean in the throat. The bear let out one final roar before it dropped with a crash that shook the forest floor.
Silence.
I dropped to my knees beside Lizzie. “Are you hurt? Did it touch you?”
She was shaking, face pale, tears brimming in her eyes. But she shook her head.
“N-No,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”
I pulled her into a quick, tight hug, then reached up to check Ciel, who was still half-shielding her with one arm. His face was stone, but his other hand trembled faintly.
“Ciel?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “You alright?”
He nodded - just once - but then he gave a smile, looking up to Francis.
“16 to 15. It looks like I’ve lost the game, Aunt Francis.” The boy said.
I huff a laugh, “Jesus- really dude. We just had a heart attack.”
“Hmph! You still have at least a decade to go before you can even think about winning against me. Moreover- I commend you for daring to protect my daughter with your life.” She gave a bow to the young man, who gained a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m in your debt. I would expect nothing less from the man who is to become my son, Lord Ciel Phantomhive.”
————-
We began to make our way back to the manor, Ciel and Lizzie just riding up ahead as I lingered with Francis. Sebastian in tow beside us.
“Hey, butler.” She spoke at last and my brow raised slightly as Sebastian moved to her side.
Only for her to hand him a familiar silver knife that glittered in the sunlight with a bit of blood at the tip.
“You forgot this.”
The man chuckles for a moment. “Oh, how careless of me to forget precious silverware.”
“Indeed. You forgot it in the bear’s head.”
“Excuse me. Come again?” I say, bemused.
Lady Francis looked to the man, “It was you who struck it down, right? My bullets missed. With my daughter in danger, I had trouble aiming properly. I must be getting old.”
I had to grit my teeth over my shoulder and out of her view. That man really didn’t know subtlety if it hit him in the head with a frying pan. The fact that no one else besides myself has picked up he’s a demon, a miracle of some ungodly kind.
“However, a butler’s duty is to save face on his master’s behalf. So why did you let me win?”
“The master has an inordinate talent for games. Consequently, he seems to over confidently believe he can’t lose. But at times, it will be necessary for him to carry himself with humility while striving for his goal. Otherwise, he will eventually trip up as the place for which the young master aims is not an easy one to reach.” He said.
I slowed my horse enough to line up with her and I cleared my throat lightly. “Lady Midford?”
She tilted her chin toward me, her expression unreadable. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to say… what you did back there was incredible.”
A single brow arched, ever the skeptic. “Is that so?”
I gave a small, respectful nod. “You didn’t hesitate. That kind of instinct - pulling the trigger in a split second when your child’s in danger? That takes more strength than most people realize. You make a great role model for Ciel, you’re firm. But you want nothing more than for him to be an exemplary man for your daughter.”
There was a long pause. Her sharp green eyes studied me, searching for something. A trap? A performance? But I didn’t flinch. I just met her gaze with quiet sincerity. For a moment, I thought I’d miscalculated. But then her mouth tugged at the corner.
“Hmph,” she said at last. “I suppose that’s the least I could do. Still… I let my emotions compromise my aim. That’s unacceptable in the field.”
“Maybe,” I replied, keeping my tone measured. “But if you didn’t care that much, you wouldn’t be Lizzie’s mother. And I think she’d take love over perfect aim any day.”
“She’s a handful,” Francis said softly, her voice losing just a fraction of its iron. “Always throwing herself into dramatics. A sweet little girl with a bleeding heart. But…she’s the light in this family.”
“She is,” I agreed, with a smile. “But light still needs strong roots to grow. And she clearly learned her strength from you.”
Francis gave a quiet hum of approval at that. Score one for me.
“She’s lucky to have a mother who’s that capable,” I added, more gently now.
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she turned back toward the path ahead, where Lizzie and Ciel were riding together - his posture protective, her laughter starting to return as she pointed to a cute little rabbit.
Then she said, very quietly, “Thank you.”
I blinked.
Sebastian’s glance shifted to me for just a moment, and he offered the smallest nod, as if to say: Well done.
Thank the gods. I’ve bonded with the dragon lady.
——————-
The warm hues of dusk stretched through the windows of the Phantomhive Manor as we returned, our boots and hooves clicking on cobblestone.
When I stepped into the salon ahead of the others, my breath caught in my throat.
Streamers. Confetti. Balloons that looked dangerously over-inflated. The long table was lined with an ambitious array of sweets, mismatched party decorations, and at least four different hand-sewn banners - all spelling out some variation of “Happy Birthday, Young Master” in glitter and cursive.
“Oh my god.”
Behind me, Ciel approached the salon doors and stopped dead, his expression dropping into something between horror and resignation.
“Oh no,” he muttered.
“We made this together!!” Finny cheered, beaming with joy as he showcased a very…VERY ugly cake that looked half burned in some patches. But oh gods…his smile is so pure it makes it look good.
Ciel gave a sigh so deep, I think his soul briefly left his body.
I stepped a little closer, leaning to whisper. “They did their best. Let’s just... call it character-building.”
He groaned. “Do not encourage them.”
A soft chuckle sounded just behind us. Francis had entered the salon without a word, eyes sweeping over the chaos of crepe paper and hand-cut decorations. I expected her to sigh. Or scoff. Or raise a single, judgmental brow.
But instead... she smiled.
“The servants beat me to it,” she said, almost ruefully.
Ciel blinked. “What?”
“That was the reason I came here,” she said, walking calmly into the room, her riding gloves now tucked neatly under one arm as she placed a hand on Ciel’s head.
“Happy thirteenth birthday, Ciel.”
Ciel’s posture shifted. He didn’t speak, but I saw his throat bob as he swallowed.
Francis looked at me and the servants with a soft smile. “Everyone, I hope you will continue to take care of both my daughter and my son.”
“Right!”
In all the joy, Ciel finally spoke- “Thank you, so much.”
A light shifted in the room.
It was Mey-Rin who noticed first, standing near the window. Her gasp was soft, but it cut through the chatter like silver thread.
“Oh! It’s snowing.”
Everyone turned.
Sure enough, past the warped glass panes of the manor’s tall arched windows, tiny flakes had begun to drift down from the iron-grey sky. At first they were sparse, like the sky was only toying with the idea of winter. But within minutes, the snow thickened, falling in graceful spirals that caught the last vestiges of daylight.
The entire room drifted toward the window like moths to a gentle flame.
I myself have never really seen snow, only seeing it on Christmas specials. But man…people really understate how magical it looks…
“I didn’t think we’d see snow this early,” Bard said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s beautiful,” Lizzie breathed, her eyes wide as saucers.
“It’ll settle,” Francis murmured, arms folded, but her gaze was distant - softened by something almost nostalgic.
I stood beside her, the warmth of the room at my back and the cool breath of winter tapping at the window glass.
Ciel was just ahead, his silhouette outlined against the pale light, his expression unreadable.
Thirteen years old today.
Still here. Still fighting.
The fire crackled behind us. The snow fell outside in perfect silence. And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, everything was still.
————-
The snow fell heavier in London.
Horses clipped through the slush, their breath puffing in clouds. Carriages rolled slowly, wheels muffled in wet snow. Street urchins gathered by steaming grates, shouting half-hearted offers for newspapers no one wanted to buy in the cold. The Thames groaned beneath sheets of ice, its banks scattered with soot and footprints.
And yet, amid the grey and chill, two figures stood out.
One was tall, built like a tower of muscle, an umbrella held delicately over the head of the smaller man beside him. The other wore an absurd amount of color for the weather - vibrant silks, glinting rings, gold embroidered cuffs peeking out from beneath a fur-lined cloak that was already collecting snow.
Prince Soma.
He was grinning, entirely undeterred by the cold, his breath misting in front of him like a dragon mid-sentence.
“Agni, what is this?” he asked cheerfully, tugging his scarf tighter around his neck.
“It is called ‘snow’ and falls in Great Britain during the winter, my prince.” He responded softly.
“Snow…Great Britain is beautiful. I want to take it back and show it to mother!”