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Sebastian was quite sure he'd had more wretched experiences than this.
In his long long life, he was certain that he'd been more weary, that his limbs had ached more, that he'd experienced sharper pains, and that he'd been colder than this.
But he couldn't recall when.
Instead, he thought, stooped over his knees and panting, right now, sat in the bottom of a dingy boat in the Atlantic, a shivering child to his left, a boat oar clutched in his hand, and hordes of undead rotting corpses slowly sinking into the water, he was certain there had not been a more dismal moment in his entire existence.
A harsh, rattling cough escaped the Young Master, and Sebastian sighed.
Sodden and rank with blood as it was, the tail coat he'd put around the boy's shivering form was doing nothing to protect him from the elements.
The lights of the rescue boat on the horizon were drawing nearer, however, which meant there were only a few more minutes left to endure. And, if they could last that long, surviving whatever came next would surely be easier.
By rights, it couldn't be any worse.
The minutes passed by, and the water became choppier as the ship approached. Sebastian turned to Ciel, who was struggling to keep his eye open. He reached over and gently shook his shoulder.
“Young Master,” he said, voice a hoarse and strangled mimicry of its usual smooth timbre, “You need to stay awake. Rescue is almost here.”
A garbled murmur of syllables and a kitten weak bat at his arm were his only response.
“Young Master,” he said, shaking more firmly, “Wake up!"
Ciel finally started awake, another round of hoarse coughing echoing over the open expanse. “Leave me alone, Sebastian!” the boy spluttered, snatching air between fits.
“I cannot do that, Young Master,” he replied, eyeing the ship as it advanced, “We need to get ready to board. Can you stand, and do you think you could climb a ladder?”
Ciel looked at him incredulously, as if he'd asked the boy to hop a marathon. “Are you out of your mind?” he hissed, shivering violently, “There's no wa-”and another round of coughs ended whatever he intended to say with the brutality of a guillotine.
Sebastian sighed. There was nothing else for it, then. He forced himself to stand, grabbed the Young Master around the waist, and pulled him to his chest.
“You'll have to forgive me, then, Young Master,” he said, doing his best to maintain his balance, “You'll have to hang on.”
Ciel nodded, too exhausted to put up any form of protest.
At least it would help hide the scythe wound.
The Carpathia arrived not a minute later, frantic shouting from crew members rivalling the thundering thud of the engine. The din grated at Sebastian’s already fraying nerves.
A rope ladder was tossed overboard, landing in the water just in front of their measly dinghy, and Sebastian looked up at the ship railing, a daunting, dizzying distance above them.
He dug deep into the last of his reserves, and grabbed hold of the end of it, hoping the trembling in his arms would go unnoticed by the Earl. And, once satisfied his charge was secured, he began to climb.
It felt like hours before he reached the top.
Everything hurt.
He could feel blood seeping from the wound and hear it plinking into the ocean below. He was shaking, and he couldn't seem to force his fangs to retract. He didn't even think shedding his human form would do him any good.
Something felt wrong inside. He felt light-headed and wretchedly cold, and his limbs were like uncooperative lead.
Why bother replacing them with shadow and tendril, if all they would do was tremble just the same?
He hauled himself and the Young Master up and over the railing, landing on the deck and miraculously keeping his feet. He heard shouted cursing to one side, and an ear-splittingly loud voice shouting for a doctor.
Yes, a doctor would be useful, Sebastian supposed, the Young Master is coughing quite awfully.
He staggered, blinking in the bright fuzzy lights of the Carpathia. He turned to the nearest crew member, an older man with a greying beard and moustache, who was alarmingly pale.
“Where might I find this doctor?” he asked, scraping together the last of his focus, “The Young Master needs to be checked over.”
“Sod yer Young Master right now, mate,” the man replied, reaching out to steady him, “It's you that needs seein’ to!”
“The Earl of Phantomhive will be seen to first,” Sebastian said, tone more frigid than the waters below, “All else can wait.”
“You've a bloody great hole in you, man!” the sailor shouted, and Sebastian winced at the noise, “You won't be lookin’ after your kiddie Earl much longer if you don't see the Doc!”
Sebastian turned to face him, ready to spit more venom than all the cobras in India combined, when Ciel intervened.
“Sir,” he said, voice thready and raw, “Just point my butler in the right direction. You cannot reason with him when he's like this.”
Sebastian glared down at the boy, affronted, before listening to the hastily spluttered directions from the sailor. He turned sharply on his heel, ignoring the horrified whispers in his wake. He had just turned past the main deck and into one of the passageways, when he heard the rapid beat of footsteps on the wooden floor ahead of them.
“‘Black, Smile! You're alive! Thank goodness!’ says Emily,” Snake cried out, wide eyed and panting from exertion, “‘When we didn't see you on the lifeboats, we got worried!’ says Keats. We're glad you're here.”
The footman was bedraggled, wrapped in a thin blanket, and Sebastian could hazily make out a serpentine face peeking out from under his collar.
“Snake,” Ciel coughed, still clinging to Sebastian, “Could you get us to the doctor? We both need medical attention.”
“‘Yes, right away!’ says Wandsworth,” Snake replied, paling, “ ‘It's just down here!’ says Brontë.”
Sebastian followed Snake, hardly finding it in him to say much at all. His entire focus was on keeping himself upright and placing one foot in front of the other.
Thankfully, it was a mercifully short walk. Snake hurriedly guided them around a series of corners Sebastian would not be able to remember, and down another passageway before he stopped and rapped his knuckles against a wooden door.
It was quickly opened and a gruff voice barked, “Who is it? Can't I put my bleedin’ ‘ead down for two minutes?”
Snake shook his head, holding the door wide and ushering them inside. Sebastian heard him inhale sharply as he passed. That wound must look as bad as it feels, then.
The ship's doctor - a portly bald man, with wire rimmed spectacles perched on the end of a hooked nose - was standing in a relatively large cabin. There was a single bed without bedding, likely for conducting assessments, a large wooden desk covered in papers and medical paraphernalia, and a chair by one side. Sebastian placed Ciel down on the bed, ignoring the doctor's futile protests, and sat - collapsed - into the chair.
“Please see to the Young Master,” he rasped, leaning back against the wall, eyes slipping shut against his will, “He's been in the water for some time, has a sprain, and is prone to asthma.”
If anything else was said at all, Sebastian didn't hear it. Between one breath and the next, he slipped away into silent unconsciousness.
Ciel watched in mute horror as Sebastian passed out.
Perhaps it was childish naivety, if he had any left, that had prevented him from even considering the possibility that Sebastian could be actually hurt. That he could maybe…be stopped. That he could take an injury so severe, he could not come back.
That Ciel could be alone again.
Helpless.
How dare Sebastian make him feel like this again.
If - when - he woke up and recovered, Ciel was going to ensure he was run ragged, good work be damned!
“Um, young man,” the supposed doctor to his right said, “I'm sorry, but there's nothin’ I can really do for your friend over there without thread. Could you run down to Stores?”
Ciel turned his head to snap at him, before he realised he was not being addressed. The doctor was talking to Snake. Irritatingly, the movement broke the uneasy ceasefire between his lungs and the chilly, damp air, and Ciel began coughing again, throat raw.
The doctor immediately sprang into action, peeling Sebastian’s filthy tailcoat off him, and re-lighting the tealight under a teapot stand. He had a woolen blanket thrown about his shoulders, and the doctor began to poke and prod at his ankle.
Ciel despised being touched, and bitterly wished Sebastian were still awake. Loathe as he was to admit it, he had never felt safer in his life than when the demon was by his side, watching. He'd not have to endure this indignity, if he were!
“Your guardian was right, I'm afraid,” the doctor said, frowning and handing Ciel a cup of whatever concoction was brewing in the pot, “That's a severe sprain. You need to rest that, and try to keep yourself wrapped up and drinkin’ somethin’ hot. Now,” he continued, looking grimly over at Sebastian, “I ain't sure what I can do for him there. By the size of that wound and the amount of blood I can tell he's lost, I'm surprised he ain't dead yet, never mind walkin’ about. I've sent men to the morgue for less.”
“Do what you can,” Ciel said, taking a sip of the rank tea, “My butler is a lot tougher than he looks. He'll be up and about before I will, I've no doubt.”
The doctor looked at him as if he were contemplating checking him for a concussion.
Ciel was spared the humiliation of his attempt by the timely arrival of Snake. The footman burst into the room, string in one outstretched hand. The doctor took it, nodding in thanks, before turning back to Snake once more.
“Young man, could you please take the Young Sir to another room? I think there's some empty ones just around the next corner. I need the bed space for the butler.”
“‘We can do that, no problem!’ says Wandsworth,” Snake said, and he walked over to the bed, pointedly not looking at the gory mess that was Sebastian. He helped Ciel stand, putting a supportive arm behind his back, and walking them both slowly out of the room.
Ciel took one last look at Sebastian as he was escorted out, nauseous with concern he never thought he'd experience again. A concern he'd never imagined Sebastian of all creatures could provoke in him.
The demon didn't stir.
Snake helped him hobble down the passageway. “‘We can find you a private room, or we can take you to the Midfords,’ says Brontë,” Snake murmured, stopping as Ciel doubled over to cough again, “Which would you prefer?”
Once he gained control of his lungs again, Ciel gave the question some thought. A private room would be beneficial, he supposed, and afford him time to recompose himself.
But.
But if he was in a private room, he'd be alone. Wretchedly alone, once again. It would be best to gain the benefits of both.
“I would like a private room,” Ciel started, coughing again and wincing at the pull in his side, “But I would like to see the Midfords first, I think. I'd… I'd like to see that they're alright.”
Snake nodded, and took the next left turn.
The Midfords, predictably, were loud.
Once Snake had knocked on their door, Uncle Alexis had thrown it open, clearly ready to chase off whomever had disturbed them. As soon as he laid eyes on Ciel, however, tears welled up in his eyes, and he found himself pulled into a warm, strong hug.
“Oh thank God,” Uncle Alexis whispered, releasing Ciel but keeping a hand on his shoulder, “Francis, Edward, Lizzie, Ciel’s been found!”
Ciel heard three other voices shouting and the rapid approach of footsteps. Snake stepped back, head lowered deferrentially, and Ciel was pulled further into the room.
The first person he saw was Elizabeth, who, thankfully, was unharmed beyond scratches and bruises. She was wrapped in several blankets, and her big green eyes welled up with tears when she saw him. She sprang from the bed she was sitting on, and threw her arms around him, much like her father.
Ciel tolerated the touch, going so far as to pat her on the shoulder once, before breaking out of her hold.
No, that wasn't correct, was it? Before she allowed him break out of her hold.
Edward was similarly bundled up, but unhurt as far as Ciel could tell. Aunt Francis was also unhurt, but more ruffled than Ciel could ever recall seeing her, hair askew and clothing rumpled. Her sharp eyes spotted him like a hawk spying a field mouse, and she hurried over to him. She and Uncle Alexis helped him into the nearest chair, Edward handing them the last spare blanket to throw around his shoulders, and Uncle Alexis immediately provided him with another cup of warm tea.
Snake hovered around the threshold, unsure of his welcome, before Alexis waved him in. He stood next to Ciel’s shoulder, a pale shade in comparison to the steady presence that usually dogged his every step.
“Ciel,” Aunt Francis said, her usually severe features painted with worry, “Thank God you're alive! When Elizabeth said you had separated, we feared the worst. It's a relief to see you again. Are you hurt?”
“I've a sprain and-” he paused, coughing into his elbow, “and I was in the water for several minutes. I'll be resting until we reach the port, I think.”
“And what of that butler of yours?” she said, eyeing Snake dubiously, “I can't imagine he'd leave you to wander about on your own after such a catastrophe.”
Ciel flinched, and he saw Snake look at the floor, expression blank.
“Sebastian…” he said, voice cracking. He stopped, sipping some of the tea to buy him time and to calm the worry that threatened to choke him, “Sebastian is undergoing medical treatment. He was severely injured whilst saving my life, and the wound was aggravated by the fighting he had to do to prevent those things from capsizing our boat.”
He had fought hard to keep his tone even and clinical, but from the pitying looks he was receiving, and from the way tears were beginning to fall from Elizabeth's eyes, he had a feeling he was unsuccessful. Edward sat by her side, dabbing at her cheeks with a handkerchief. Aunt Francis closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and took one of his frigid hands in hers. She squeezed it gently in a rare display of affection.
“He did his duty, then,” she said, blunt as ever in her assessment of the situation. Ciel appreciated that she didn't offer meaningless platitudes; she probably knew he would take little comfort in them anyway. “We shall ensure that you are looked after until he is recovered. You've been through a frightful ordeal, and I'm certain bedrest will help us all feel better. You - Snake, was it?” she said, and Snake jumped at being addressed, “Can you support Ciel to a room?”
“‘We can look after Smile, yes,’” says Keats,” he responded, muttering the last part lowly. He gently helped Ciel stand, taking most of his weight once again, and helping him limp out of the room.
He heard Lizzie shouting well-wishes after him, but his feeble efforts to respond were cut short by another coughing fit, this one so severe, it left him hunched over, wincing as his lungs constricted over and over again. Once it subsided, Snake helped him onwards, murmuring soft encouragement as they moved.
It took some time to find a room that was unoccupied but close enough to the doctor in case he took a turn (or in case there was news about Sebastian).
The room they settled in was small, made to seem even smaller by the bed wedged against the wall and chest of drawers, but it had a working lock, and that was worth the pitiful square footage, in Ciel’s opinion.
Snake procured him some dry clothes, and helped him settle down for some rest. Rattled, chilled, and coughing, it took Ciel some time to fall asleep. But sleep eventually found him, and he felt himself sink into unconsciousness like the doomed ship sinking further and further below the waves.
Agni stared at the newspaper in horror.
Soma had come sprinting into the room, newspaper clutched in hand, and paler than Agni could ever recall seeing him. He'd all but shoved the broadsheet in his face, voice distressed, demanding Agni read the front page headline.
Printed across its front page in damnably bold black letters were the words, “Unsinkable Ship Sunk: RMS Campania Lost At Sea”.
He put the paper down on the table, walked away, and stared out of the window blankly, unable to help the way his hands trembled.
Young Ciel was on that ship.
Sebastian was on that ship.
Fear gripped him like a vice. Sebastian was on a ship, thousands of miles away, that was currently sinking into oblivion.
The man, who just days ago, had been curled around him in their bed, playing with the beaded tails of his hair, and telling him of the latest amusing escapades of the other Phantomhive servants, could be… could be gone, just like that.
He felt like he couldn't breathe.
He picked the paper back up, and scanned the rest of the article. The details were scant, clipped and brutal. Ship struck by an iceberg, it read, thousands lost at sea. Agni felt tears prick at his eyes, hot and stinging.
He kept reading, desperate for anything, any single thing, that would provide a sliver of hope. He found it towards the end, second to last paragraph.
A rescue ship, RMS Carpathia, diverted to rescue survivors.
Survivors.
It wasn't definite, nowhere near, and the odds were vanishingly small, but it was something.
And if someone were capable of defying all odds and surviving, Agni was certain it was Sebastian.
Please, Great Goddess Kali, he prayed silently, eyes slipping shut, Please protect them, and guide them home safely.
“Agni,” Soma said, wringing his hands and pacing, “What do we do? How could this happen?” He paused, swallowing nervously, before he gave voice to the thought that was tearing Agni in two, “What if they didn't make it off?”
“There is-,” Agni began, pausing to swallow past the lump in his throat, “There is not a chance that Sebastian did not get Lord Phantomhive to safety. I will contact the Manor and see if any communications have been sent to them.”
“What if they have not heard from them?” Soma asked, and Agni closed his eyes, digging deep for his usual level-headedness.
“Then, we will have to wait, my Prince.”
Sebastian blinked awake.
His eyes snapped open, and he sat straight up, ignoring the startled yell of the human to his right.
The action brought with it an immense wave of pain, and he grit his teeth against it, fighting past the black spots in his vision.
He was in a wooden cabin of sorts, desk covered in medical instruments to his right, door to his left. To his right, there was also the noisy, yelling human. Said human moved, seizing his shoulders and pushing pathetically in some strange attempt to force him down.
“Sir,” the man said, sounding panicked, “You need to lie down! You've got a very severe wound, and you need to rest!”
He may as well have been shoving solid concrete. “That won't be necessary,” Sebastian said, forcing his lower limbs - legs - to move, “I've a Young Master to find.”
“Like hell you do! Don’t-”
There was a sudden popping noise, and Sebastian hissed, looking down.
His ruined shirt was unbuttoned, stained and ripped beyond repair, and thick swathes of bandage covered his chest. Curiously, ruby red speckles had begun to bloom across the white expanse and he frowned.
The human - ah, he was the Doctor they'd been trying to find - cursed, scrabbling across his desk. He turned back around, clutching a sharp pair of scissors. “An’ now you've popped your stitches, bloody wonderful,” the Doctor grimaced, “Lie down, you great fool.”
“That won't be required,” Sebastian said, forcing his legs over the edge of the bed and standing, “I'm sure I've slept long enough.”
“Absolutely not,” the Doctor snapped, standing too and advancing on him, “You shouldn't be movin’ with injuries like that!”
“I said I'll be fine,” Sebastian snapped back, walking brusquely to the door, buttoning his shirt as he went, and ignoring the Doctor's spluttering protests.
He opened the door, strode through it, and started down the passageway. He concentrated on extending out his senses as far as he could, searching.
He disregarded the first few rooms he found, focusing in through the ‘noise’ presented by the myriad frightened souls onboard.
Ah, there.
He pinpointed the Young Master's soul, setting off towards its siren call, ignoring the shouting behind him.
He made it around two corners before the shaking started. His breath came in pants, and he felt himself listing sideways. He braced a hand on the wall, gritting his teeth against the rolling nausea and cold pain that tore through him.
He wished Agni were here.
Had Agni been here, he could leave the Young Master in his very capable care, and recover in private. He could shed his human form and check the true extent of his injuries, secure in the knowledge that the Young Master was well-guarded.
He was less concerned about the physically visible damage. The human form he adopted was little more substantial than clothing. A rip or missing component could easily be fixed on a whim, or discarded as necessary.
It was the metaphysical damage that concerned him.
The hits he'd taken previously from the likes of the irksome Grell Sutcliffe had been easily vanished away from his physical form, and it had been no trouble to present the perfect façade he'd curated over the years to the Young Master and others.
His metaphysical, or true form, however, had been another matter.
Death scythes cut through everything, both corporeal and non-corporeal. They were some of the only weapons in existence capable of injuring a demon's true form. The cut itself was one thing, but the blessed weaponry itself also brought with it a silvery blight that permeated through a demon's form. It could only be dealt with in one fashion - annihilation.
He had to rip out the blighted parts of him, let them dissipate back into shadow, and rest until they regenerated. It was an excruciating evil, and one best done in absolute solitude.
One of the first lessons he'd ever learnt, back when he was little more than a wisp of shadow and teeth, was that you didn't show weakness where it could be observed. Injury was dealt with in total privacy, lest something hungrier than you decided to take a chance at a quick meal.
He could feel the blight of his injury spreading rapidly through his metaphysical form, and knew he couldn't deal with both that and guarding the Young Master.
And therefore, true healing would have to wait.
He forced himself onwards.
He staggered down through the ship's winding passageways, following the maddening scent, until he reached a small cabin. He tried the handle, hearing it click and refusing him entry.
Locked. How sensible.
Checking for onlookers and finding none, he willed the lock to open. Doing so increased the pounding in his head and sent another wave of nausea rolling through him, but he pressed on.
The door opened before him, revealing a tiny cabin, bare save a bed and chest of drawers. His eyes were instantly drawn to the shivering, coughing boy, tossing in fitful slumber. His clothing had been changed, Sebastian noted absently, but the dark flush on his cheeks and the rag on his forehead indicated a fever had set in. Typical.
He allowed his back to press against the wall. He slipped slowly down it, mutinous legs no longer prepared to support him. He noted a bowl had been set on the chest of drawers. Hopefully, that meant Snake was attending to his health.
He dozed like that for a while, the wretched listing of the ship only serving to irritate him further. He refused to succumb to true rest, keeping himself alert by digging claws into his palms whenever he felt the pull of it becoming stronger than he could tolerate.
Time drifted past him in murky, hazy intervals. He didn't know how long he sat there before he became peripherally aware of approaching footsteps. One red eye snapped open, and his claws extended. The door was pushed open, and he readied himself to strike.
It was, however, no threatening intruder that burst into the room. Snake stepped in, and he felt the tension dissipate.
Sebastian watched him scan the room, eyes finding the Young Master, before he visibly jumped out of his skin as he noticed Sebastian sat - slumped - on the floor.
“‘Black!’” he exclaimed, hurrying over, “‘What're you doing here? The Doctor said you shouldn't be disturbed until we reached port!’ says Wordsworth, and I agree!”
“I was awake and able to stand, so I thought I'd check on the Young Master,” Sebastian replied, hiding his hands so that his claws could not be seen, “Besides, I'm sure I've slept long enough.”
“‘You definitely haven't, it's only been two nights,’” says Brontë,” Snake said, and Sebastian’s eyes widened, “‘You still look half dead,’ she continues, which is a little rude, but not untrue.”
“Two nights, really?” Sebastian muttered, head resting back against the wall, unable to stop the shivers running through him, “So we should only be another day and a half out from London?”
Snake nodded. “‘The scary Midford lady has been keepin’ an eye on Smile and the man has been trying to use the ship's telegraph system to get in touch with people,’ says Geothe,” Snake continued, crossing the room and bringing across a folding chair Sebastian hadn't noticed.
He set it up by Sebastian, extending a hand to help him stand. Sebastian, forcing his claws to vanish despite how much it sent black spots streaking across his vision, took the proffered hand and allowed himself to be helped into it. It was hardly comfortable, but it beat spending the next 36 hours on the floor.
“Well, you look awful,” a thin rough voice said, and both footman and butler turned towards the bed. Ciel, now awake, had turned his head, facing the pair of them. He was flushed, his visible eye hazy with sickness, but not, Sebastian noted with relief, sick enough to have lost his grip on reality.
“You're too kind, my Lord,” Sebastian said, resting his head back against the wall, “Though I would maybe retain any such similar compliments, lest the pot begin to call the kettle black.”
“Tch, so your awful sense of humour is intact at least,” the boy muttered, turning aside and coughing into his fist. Snake hurried over, putting a pillow behind his back and helping him sit up slightly.
“Snake,” Sebastian said, noting the harsh, rattling nature of the cough with concern, “Could you go to the doctor and request some sachets of asthmador, if available? That cough is only going to get worse without it.”
The footman nodded, exiting the room hurriedly. Sebastian heard hissing as he sprinted onwards, which presumably indicated one of his many snakes was guiding him effectively.
“Sebastian,” Ciel said, after his coughing had subsided, “answer me honestly. Are you well?”
“An inquiry into my health, my Lord?” Sebastian dissembled, forcing a chuckle into his tone, “You really are determined to provoke a storm!”
“Stop dodging the question,” the boy said, too tired to snap at him. Sebastian sighed, feeling the tug of his orders once more.
“No,” he said, loathing the way the truth was ripped from him, “And recovery will not be possible here.”
A new perfume began to permeate through the room, tangy and sharp - worry, and Sebastian’s eyes closed in exasperation. “My Lord,” he said, staring at the boy, “It would be the height of foolishness for you to worry about me.”
“How did?! - tch, never mind,” the boy scoffed, closing his eyes, “Don't mistake that for what it's not. You've spent too long around Agni if you think I'm concerned for you. I'm just concerned about whether the injury will impact your utility going forwards. That's all.”
Sebastian did not feel that reminding the boy that he could smell dishonesty would be productive. He let the lie sit between them.
“Quite right, my Lord,” he said, one corner of his mouth pulling up in a smirk, “Well, worry not, because I will be recovered within a week at most once we get back to London.”
The boy nodded, and the pair lapsed into companionable, if pained, silence.
News finally came on the second day.
Agni and Soma had heard nothing, despite taking to walking the docks daily, eagerly listening for any new information. The lack of news only heightened their agitation.
The Prince had been unable to concentrate on anything, his endless love for those around him transformed into a constricting tightness that kept him anxious and fretting.
Agni wasn't much better.
The town house was spotless, cleaned and scoured within an inch of its life, and he had created more conserves and pickles than he knew anyone could reasonably eat.
He was doing anything to keep from dwelling on his own fears. The wretched uncertainty sent him treading the old, painful pathways of memories best ignored, those that contained cell bars, the gnaw of starvation, the jeering of his fellow countrymen, and hearing the construction of a gallows with a dead man's name on it.
He shook his head to clear it.
He should have more faith, and he knew that. He knew that Sebastian would never allow any harm to come to Ciel, he knew he was highly capable, and he knew that the two had survived dangerous situations before, but… but he supposed this was the price of caring.
To care for someone was to cheat yourself of your peace of mind in their absence.
So, when the telephone rang, Agni moved with a speed he surprised even himself with to answer it.
“Mister Agni?” Mister Tanaka’s voice crackled over the line, urgent and loud.
“Yes, I am here,” he replied, and Soma came bounding over, almost vaulting over a chair to listen in, “There's been news?”
“Yes, there's been news,” Tanaka said, and Agni allowed hope, tremulous as a humming bird’s wing, to fill him once more. “The Midfords have been in contact. All four of them are well, and the Young Master, Snake and Sebastian are with them on the Carpathia.”
Soma shouted with joy, laughing and shaking Agni's arm in glee. Agni, however, could hear an underlying note of tension in Tanaka’s voice that dampened his utter relief. He clutched the receiver tightly, sending a tight smile to the Prince.
“Forgive me, Mister Tanaka,” he said, throat dry, “However, I take it that is not all the news, is it?”
Tanaka sighed in a rush of static.
“No, it is not,” he said, and Agni closed his eyes, “There is further news but it is unpleasant, and I fear you will not like to hear it.”
“Tell me anyway,” Agni said, bracing himself.
“The Young Master has taken ill, and Sebastian,” he began, and Agni felt his heart clench at the name alone, “was gravely injured in rescuing him. I don't know anything further. Given that, the rest of the household staff will be travelling down to the town house today. I doubt the man will be in any fit state to look after the Young Master, and I've no doubt you will wish to look after him. We will help you both look after the Young Master and Prince Soma.”
Prince Soma took the receiver from Agni's slack grip.
“That - that is most kind of you, Mister Tanaka,” he said, worriedly looking at his khansama, “We will look forward to seeing you. Thank you for letting us know that they are alive.”
Tanaka and the Prince exchanged goodbyes that Agni didn't parse, and Soma took his hand, guiding him to a seat.
He disappeared, returning with a glass of water, that he set next to Agni on a low table. Agni nodded his head in thanks, touched at his Prince's great kindness, but didn't have it in him to smile.
Gravely injured.
Sebastian was gravely injured.
The words span around his head like some sick carousel.
“Agni,” Prince Soma said, a compassionate hand on his arm, “I know this is not good news, but they are alive. They are alive, and they are travelling back towards us as we speak.”
Agni nodded, covering the Prince's hand with his own. He didn't trust his voice enough to respond.
“We will make sure that they come home to our very best care,” Soma continued, determination burning in his amber eyes, “Let's get the rooms set up, and you can make your famous Rasam! They'll be back to normal in no time at all!”
Agni, once again, was in awe of the Prince's resilience. His enthusiasm burned brighter than the sun, and it warmed Agni to see it. He felt his own mood lift slightly, and he placed a bandaged hand over his heart.
“Jo ajna, my Prince,” he said, warm pride batting back the suffocating despair.
And they set about readying the house for company.
The Phantomhive servants arrived by the evening, tension lining each of their faces.
Baldroy and Tanaka had taken charge, it seemed, providing a steady support that Agni appreciated. Finny and Mey-Rin were directed to setting up the rooms, which seemed more of a way to keep Finny calm than anything. He seemed especially concerned with Young Ciel, a sentiment that Agni could sympathise with.
The Prince had also noticed this, and had taken Finny under his wing. Agni had seen them working on a “Make Ciel Well” plan, drawn out on a piece of paper. They had illustrated it with little soup bowls and pillows, and Agni was overcome by fondness as he watched them work.
Coming to England had been the best thing that could have happened to his Prince. Agni had always known that Prince Soma was possessed of great charity, compassion, and a joyfulness at life that stunned him, but had languished under an abject loneliness that had left him dulled and sad. In England, his guttering spark had become a bright and vivid flame, and it brought Agni no end of pride to see him flourish.
Tanaka had taken it upon himself to restock the medical supplies, heading out into the city despite the late hour, which left him with Baldroy.
They worked together in silence, Agni taking charge over the simmering soup broth and spices, and Baldroy chopping the vegetables.
Eventually, when he was sure they were alone, Baldroy sighed.
“Look,” he said, pausing in dicing an onion, “I know you're worried about the Boss. I ain't sayin’ you're wrong to, but he's a lot tougher than you know.”
Agni gripped the ladle tighter, taking a deep breath. “Yes,” he said, stirring with more force than was truly warranted, “I know Sebastian is very strong, bu-”
“Not what I mean,” Baldroy said, cutting him off. He sighed, setting the knife down and resting his back against the counter. “Sebastian… Look, the guy isn't normal, yeah? He's taken some really awful injuries over the years I've known him without ever bein’ stopped. Fuck, we almost buried him at one point, and he woke up right as rain!”
Agni remembered.
That funeral has been playing in his mind more recently over the past few days, waking him up in the middle of the night. Sebastian, still and silent, atop a bed of lilies, being lowered into the ground and gone forever, had him gasping awake, bloody tears streaming down his face.
“Shit, probably shouldn't have brought that up,” Baldroy muttered. He came around the counter, and put a hand on Agni's shoulder, grip firm. “What I mean is, the Boss is tougher than us regular folk, and is probably just gonna get huffy at us all for bein’ worried. He's gonna get off that ship tomorrow, and say, ‘What kind of butler would I be if I couldn't swim the Atlantic carrying the Young Master, the footman, and our luggage?’ and it'll be fine, yeah?”
Agni huffed a laugh, smiling tightly at the blond chef’s impression. “I am grateful for your kind support, Baldroy,” he said, turning off the hob, and covering the finished soup, “I cannot help but worry about them both, but you are right. Thank you. The Prince and I are very grateful that you are all here.”
Baldroy clapped his shoulder one more time. “Hey, you're one of us now. And we look after our own,” he said, returning to the chopping board, “He'll be back tomorrow and we can all help him an’ the Young Master get better.”
Agni nodded, and they lapsed once more into silence as they worked.
The next day dawned murky, cold, and overcast.
They made their way down to the docks early, none of them having any desire to wait. Despite the early hour, the docks were swarmed with people, all clamouring and pointing at the growing speck on the horizon. The dock workers, harried and shouting, were trying to keep order despite the pressing crowd.
“I'll wait with the carriage,” Mister Tanaka said, eyeing the crowd with concern, “It would be best to try and get a vantage point to spot them.”
“Oh, oh! I know!” the Prince said, snapping his fingers, “Agni, couch down!”
Agni did so, obedience second nature to him, as far as the Prince was concerned. Soma, bundled up in a thick woolen choga, sprang up, catlike and graceful, onto his shoulders. Perch secured, he motioned for Agni to straighten up, and Agni did, watching the Prince fix his eyes on the horizon.
“Ohhhh, that's a good idea!” Finny said, smiling up at the pair. He turned to Baldroy, cupping his palms in a foothold, “C’mon Bard!”
“Hell no!” the chef protested, backing away, “You tryin’ that could launch me to the moon!”
“I'll try,” Mey-Rin said, pushing her glasses up into her hair, “I've got the better distance vision anyway, so I have!”
“Nice thinking, Miss Maid!” the Prince beamed, and she nodded, bounding up onto Finny’s palm, before similarly perching on his shoulder. Once settled, they all turned to the horizon, watching the ship get closer and closer.
It took an hour for the Carpathia to dock, each minute that passed swelling the fervor on the docks into a fever pitch. The ship was huge, towering overhead like the impossibly vast mountains he'd heard tale of near Nepal. Its dark paint was mottled with rust, and its chimney stacks soared high into the sky, a dizzying distance above them.
He saw the ship crew throwing ropes down to the workers, the clanging of the gate being thrown open echoing around the dock like funeral bells. People began to descend from the ship, scraped, bruised and in torn clothing.
As they moved closer, Agni could hear snatches of conversation over the rising clamour.
“-so cold, the water was so cold!”
“-were monsters below the decks, real monsters, Lucy!”
“No, no mother didn't make it off.”
He swallowed, fear returning in triplicate.
They continued to watch the throng of people descend, until, finally, Mey-Rin pointed ahead.
“There!” she said, and Agni snapped his head around, desperately searching, “I can see the Midfords, so I can!”
Standing at the top of wooden walkway was the distinguished Midford family. Agni could see the children, Edward and Elizabeth, the brother supporting the sister, beginning to descend. They were dressed thinly, the Young Lady in some sort of slip with a dark grey shawl, clearly designed for an adult woman, wrapped around her torso. Her mother, the stern and austere Francis Midford followed them down, dress ripped but otherwise immaculately put together.
They were proceeded by -
“That's Ciel!” Soma shouted, waving frantically. The Young Earl was indeed the next down the gang plank, but he was not walking. He was carried in the arms of the new footman, Snake. There was a blanket wrapped around him, and, even at this distance Agni could see the unhealthy flush covering his cheeks.
So poor Young Ciel hadn't recovered yet…
All thoughts of the boy vanished, however, once Agni caught sight of the people behind them.
Alexis Midford, in a ripped and stained shirt, had his arm around a deathly pale, trembling figure. Dark hair obscured Agni's view, but, even from a thousand miles away, Agni would have known that lithe figure and neat suit anywhere.
Sebastian.
Agni moved. There wasn't a force on this planet that could have stopped him.
He wove his way through the crowd, the Prince shouting directions to him over the din. He could hear Finny and Baldroy charging after him, Mey-Rin protesting as they followed the path he was carving out.
They reached the foot of the gang plank just as Francis did, and she nodded curtly at them in recognition. Her own staff, waiting as well, had wrapped thick woolen cloaks around both children, and handed her another as she reached them.
“Ah, Prince Soma, was it?” she said, looking up, “I take it you're here for my nephew?”
“Yes, that is correct,” the Prince said, and Agni couched, letting him down, “Is he-?”
“He's got a fever and a bad sprain,” she said, tightly, running a hand over her daughter's hair, “He's not the worst of it, though. That butler of his is. The man has been a terror. He's been unconscious for nearly 30 hours, somehow escaped the doctor the second he awoke, and has refused to have his stitches seen to for the last two days. The doctor tried to force the issue, and he sent him running from the room screaming. How he's conscious is a mystery, let alone standing!”
“Oh, Jesus,” Baldroy muttered.
“Perhaps you can get him to see sense,” she sniffed, looking at the gathered servants, “Lord above knows he's no use to anyone dead.”
Agni took a shuddering breath, feeling the rising tide of panic, and breathing out to control his nerves. In for five, out for five.
“Do not worry, Marchioness,” he said, voice steadier than he felt, “We will make sure both the Lord Phantomhive and Sebastian recover as quickly as possible.”
“Good,” she said, losing some of her severity and sighing, “He was hurt saving Ciel’s life. If there's anything you need, send word.”
They all murmured affirmatives, and she strode away, her children in tow.
Snake and Young Ciel had reached the bottom of the walkway by the time she strode off, and it hurt Agni to hear the boy's weak coughing. Soma darted over, placing a hand on the boy's forehead, and crying out.
“Ciel!” he exclaimed, eyes wide and pained, “You are burning up! We will get you home right away!”
“You're noisy,” Ciel rasped, too exhausted to even glare. Finny took the Young Earl from the footman and cradled him to his chest. Snake nodded in thanks, before dashing back up the walkway and supporting the Marquise as he half-carried Sebastian down next.
The Prince chased after the gardener, and, for once, Agni didn't feel the urge to follow. Mey-Rin ran after the trio, but Baldroy stayed by him, a silent gesture of support Agni was unspeakably grateful for. He returned to watching the group above.
The closer they got, the more horror Agni felt. Sebastian was still conscious, that much was a relief, but his movements were jerky, stiff and pained. His was wearing a borrowed shirt several sizes too big, and Agni could see thick bandages peeking out from under the loose collar.
He didn't look up when Snake took his other arm, and Agni heard Baldroy curse under his breath.
Alexis Midford and Snake made slow progress, but eventually, they stepped off the wood and onto the paved dock. Agni immediately hurried over, taking Sebastian from the Marquise.
“Thank you very much for helping him, Marquise Midford,” he said, bowing his head, “We have him from here.”
“Think nothing on it,” Alexis said, worry robbing him of his usual jovial smile, “Helping the man walk was the least we could do. My nephew is alive because of him. Please do let me know when he recovers, I should like to thank him once he's alert enough to hear it. How he fought in that condition, I'll never know.”
“Hang on, fought?” Baldroy asked, frowning, “I thought the ship struck an iceberg?”
“Oh it did,” Alexis said, grimacing, and Agni clutched Sebastian all the closer to him, “But there were monsters on that ship. Now, I'm going to find my wife and children, and never set foot on a boat again. Keep me updated on their recovery.”
Agni nodded, and set off towards the carriage, Snake taking the lead. Baldroy took Sebastian’s other arm, and between them, they helped the man walk through the crowd.
As they walked, Agni brushed Sebastian’s fringe back from his eyes, gently, and ran his bandaged fingers down his cheek.
That roused him. Red eyes blinked, and he shook his head, hissing under his breath.
“Agni?” he whispered, voice raw and croaky, “Where is…?”
“Young Ciel has already been taken to the carriage, jaanu,” he said, resting his head against Sebastian’s as they walked, “It is not far now.”
He felt Sebastian nod, head sagging down until it was almost resting on his shoulder. Quietly, so silently Agni almost missed it above the din of the crowd, he heard Sebastian whisper, “I'm glad you're here.”
“Oh, for pity's sake,” Baldroy muttered, rolling his eyes, “Can't you two save it until you're in priva-ack?!”
Agni saw gloved fingers pinching the chef's ear and twisting in a fashion that had to be unpleasant. Sebastian turned to glare at the chef.
“I'm not so indisposed that I will tolerate insubordination, Baldroy,” he hissed, and the chef just rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, you're gonna be just fine,” he said, and he and Agni swapped a glance over midnight hair, mutually relieved.
They helped Sebastian into the awaiting carriage, Agni settling him against his side. Sebastian’s head found his shoulder, and Agni felt his breath even out in a manner he'd become intimately familiar with over recent months as he slipped into unconsciousness. He rested his cheek against Sebastian’s hair, took a gloved hand in his own, and watched as Prince Soma and Finny settled Ciel into a comfortable position for the journey. He let the relief of having the people dearest to him in one place wash over him.
Yes, Sebastian and Ciel were hurt and sick, but they were here. They were free from whatever nightmare they had been put through, and they were in the care of the people who loved them.
Wait.
Agni blinked, softly stunned.
Love. Did he…?
The carriage rumbled along the cobbles, back towards the town house, and Agni took a deep breath, sitting with the notion in silence.
Did he love Sebastian?
He thought on the man's steady strength, his dedicated care for Ciel, his meticulous presentation and his dry sense of humour. He thought about his handsome face crinkling up into pure delight every time a cat passed him by, and the way Sebastian took every opportunity to lace their fingers together when they were in private. He thought about how miserable it had been, not knowing if the man was alive or dead for days, and the gaping pit of despair that had taken up residence in his chest and choked his every word at the thought of never seeing him again.
That, he supposed, was his answer.
He loved Sebastian. And by Kali, and by his Prince, was he going to do everything in his power to see the man he loved restored to health once again.
Sebastian blinked awake to the hazy darkness of late evening.
There was something soft under his back and beneath his head, and the sharp smell of disinfectant lingered in the air. The flesh of his chest and back were stinging in concert with one another, and he could smell ginger, garlic, chilli, and a whole host of other spices wafting from a covered tray to his right.
He looked around.
He was in Agni's room at the town house, the familiar scenery pleasing some latent instinctual desire to heal in private in his own territory. How had he gotten from the docks to here?
He knew the blight had been worsening dreadfully back on the ship, untreated as it was. It had robbed him of being of any use whatsoever, confined him to a chair in the Young Master's cabin, and left him shaking and on edge, snapping at anyone that came close. He recalled strong arms around his shoulders, the only ones he could really tolerate in this state, and some inane quip from the irritant that was Baldroy, but he couldn't recall how he got from the docks to this room.
Nor, concerningly, could he tell just how long he'd been unconscious for. It was certainly long enough for the blight to have advanced even further, digging itself deeper into him in a manner he found most offensive. This needed to be dealt with soon, or he risked permanent consequences.
He was just about to let the form of Sebastian Michaelis dissolve away, when the door was pushed open.
Startled, he snapped his head over to the door, tense and wary at the intrusion. Agni (safe, caring) stood in the doorway, and Sebastian could see the tired frown on his face lift up into a small smile as they locked eyes. The man had changed from his usual deep green sherwani into one of a deep blue colour, and his usual sash was gone.
Sebastian missed the green.
The man immediately came over, setting down some silverware and a teapot on the low table. He perched on the edge of the bed, leant down and kissed him softly, cupping his cheek, and stroking his thumb along his jaw. “It's good to see you awake, jaanu,” he said, grey eyes soft. His bandaged fingers drifted away from his jaw and down to stroke the nape of his neck, before coming to rest on his chest, just over where his body's fake heart still beat. The sting of it felt welcome, a distraction away from the sharp coldness spreading through him.
“I have restitched your wounds,” he said, and Sebastian could smell the acrid tang of worry crawling over his soul, “Sebastian, do not mistake my words, I am unspeakably grateful that you are here, but how did you survive? What happened to you?”
Sebastian sighed. He had been dreading the conversation the entire time he'd been conscious. He and Ciel had agreed a narrative that didn't falsify too much of the account to provide to the Midfords, and Sebastian supposed he would want that to be their official story here, too.
“What have you been told?” he asked, covering Agni's hand with his own, and stalling for time while his mind raced.
“Marquise Midford said there were monsters,” Agni said, confusion and anxiety at war with each other in his words, “And Young Ciel suggested that you had been hurt saving his life, and then still had to fight to get the pair of you off the ship.”
“Monsters is a strange label to give them,” Sebastian said, and he began to sit up. Agni obligingly moved back, pulling his shoulders forward slowly, and placing a cushion behind him. “They were human, but not,” Sebastian said, once he was settled, “One of the passengers had apparently stored corpses in coffins in the hold. On the third day of the voyage, for some reason known only to them, they… They reanimated them mechanically somehow, and they ripped their way through the ship. You couldn't stop them without crushing their heads, and trial and error led to the majority of the casualty count I imagine.”
He paused, and Agni handed him the teacup wordlessly, hand around his to steady it as he took a sip. Had any other creature in existence dared to do such a thing, Sebastian would have found the conduct insulting. Agni, however, only ever meant well. “Needless to say, I fought through them with the Midfords, before we got separated. The Young Master and I were trying to find a device to stop the wretched things, when another passenger, trying to get to rescue, barged through us. He knocked the Young Master over a railing. I turned to catch him, and…” here, Sebastian paused, taking another sip and feigning a wince, needlessly rubbing the centre of his chest, “and I was struck by some falling metal debris. It pinned me to a walkway. I managed to stop the Young Master plummeting overboard, but-”
“But at your own expense,” Agni said, voice shaking. The other man took a shuddering breath, and his fingers clenched into fists. It wasn't fear or anxiety, however, that Sebastian detected in the air.
It was rage.
Mouth-watering, delectable rage.
Sebastian watched, riveted, as Agni stood and retrieved a bowl of some kind of soup. He returned to Sebastian’s side, gently lifting a spoon to his mouth. The contrast between the gentle ministrations of his care and the raw, seething fury visible in his eyes was intoxicating.
Sebastian almost didn't care that he was being spoonfed like a human infant.
“Did he even stop?” Agni demanded, voice shaking, and Sebastian shook his head, struck dumb and lost in the force of Agni's emotions. It smelled divine.
“He pushed a child over a railing toward certain death, no doubt heard you being… being struck and just carried on?” Agni exclaimed, appalled and furious.
Sebastian wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything so beautiful in all his life.
Agni enraged was a vicious, sublime sight. His dove grey eyes appeared to burn from within, his lovely dark skin was flushed with indignation, and he was so tense he was trembling. It made him burn with the urge to swallow his soul.
It was almost on par with the sight of the man gasping beneath him, face alight with pleasure, as his fingernails bit bloody crescents into Sebastian’s hips.
Agni took a deep breath, and the moment shattered.
“Please forgive my outburst, Sebastian,” he said, looking down at the bowl in his hands, “Please carry on.”
“There's not much more to say,” Sebastian said, dazedly shaking his head to clear the fog of hunger away, “I was able to pull the Young Master to safety, and between us, we removed the metal. We abandoned the search for the device, given the water we saw coming up from the hold, and we were able to swim out to a lifeboat before the Campania completely sank. More of those vile things tried to sink our boat, but I was able to hold them off until the Carpathia found us. That's all there is to it.”
“Jaanu,” Agni said, placing the bowl to one side, “That is harrowing, and I am so profoundly grateful that you are here with me now. I could not bear the thought of losing you. But still,” he continued, frowning, “That wound should have killed you. It went through your spine, your stomach… I - How are you still here? And do not tell me it missed, because I know it did not. And you fought, you walked off that ship, and you've just accepted food and drink without issue, which by any understanding of human anatomy, you should not have been able to do.”
Sebastian felt his eyes widen, impressed and irate in equal measure. He had underestimated Agni's perceptiveness, and in doing so, had inadvertently tipped his hand on his true nature.
Cold panic, that had very little to do with the blight, robbed him of a response.
Agni sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand, before taking Sebastian’s hands in his own. “Make no mistake,” he said, voice softer and sad, “I am not angry - never angry - with you. Whatever this means, it means you are here with me now, and that Young Ciel is alive. I just…” and his voice trailed off, and his head dropped down, looking away from Sebastian, “I just wish I knew what you needed. Because I do not think that stitches and bandages will do you any good.”
His voice broke on the last two words, and Sebastian sighed. Humans comforted each other in times like this, didn't they?
He trailed a hand up Agni's arm, across his shoulder, and under his chin, turning Agni's face towards his. He softly tugged him closer, and Agni obliged, drawing nearer. Sebastian kissed him gently, hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. He drew away, intending to explain, when Agni pulled him back in.
Agni kissed him hard, hand fisted in his hair, desperation and relief twinning together in the firm press of Agni's lips against his own. He groaned, taken by the raw need of it, and Agni took advantage. His hand moved from his hair to his neck, deepening the kiss. Sebastian could taste days of worry and fear along the edges of his soul, and, shuddering, just barely resisted the unspeakable urge to take the smallest mouthful of it.
Eventually, they broke apart. Agni rested his forehead against the demon's own, panting softly.
“I survived,” Sebastian said, reluctantly, whispering the words across Agni's lips like a confession, “because something like that isn't enough to kill something like me.”
He said nothing further, but held Agni's steely gaze unflinchingly. A revelation as to what he truly was risked Agni's fear, disgust, and repudiation, and right now, he felt weak enough to admit that that wasn't something he wanted to experience.
Instead of demanding further explanation, however, Agni just nodded, swallowing, before cupping his cheek once more. “Is there anything you need?” he whispered, “Anything at all?”
Sebastian pulled back, sinking further into the pillows. He knew what he needed, but knew Agni would not like to give it to him. He smiled ruefully.
“Yes,” he began, mentally preparing for a battle, “There is. I need a day of complete solitude. You're not incorrect, the stitches mean very little to my recovery. There's… something else I need to do to ensure a complete return to health. And for me to concentrate on that, I need to ensure the Young Master is as safe as possible. Could I ask that you oversee that personally? There…” and here he paused, sighing, “There isn't a soul alive I trust more with that than you.”
It was galling to know that he said that with utter sincerity.
“Is this… thing you need to do something you have put off because you felt the need to guard Young Ciel?” Agni asked, brow furrowed in concern.
“Yes,” Sebastian responded. It wasn't a million miles away from the truth, he supposed. “And leaving it so long has actively worsened things.” He braced for impact.
Agni, however, surprised him once again. Instead of a demand for further explanation, or some derision about his evasiveness, Agni smiled, rare elation softening the lines worry had carved into him.
“I think,” he said, sounding the happiest he had yet during their conversation, “That is the first time I have heard you ask for help because you need it, and not because you think someone else will benefit. Sebastian, if that is how I can help you, and not just help you help others, then have no fear. Young Ciel will be safer than ever under my care. By my Prince, I will not let you down.”
Agni kissed him again, lingeringly, before he turned away. He gathered up the half eaten treachery that was the soup and the tea, before he turned to Sebastian once more.
“I will leave you alone, then,” he said, grey eyes bright with determination, “Until this exact time tomorrow evening. Young Ciel will be completely under my care, and I will do everything within my power to keep him safe and help him recover. I will not let anyone disturb you. Do whatever it is you must do,” he said, voice softening, “and after, I will ensure you get all the rest and care you require.”
“You're… taking this remarkably well,” Sebastian said, neutrally, not wanting to push his luck further but unable to stop himself.
“Whatever you may or may not be has no bearing on who you are,” Agni said, unflinchingly, “You are still Sebastian, you're still the man that I - that I love, and whatever it is that you will not tell me does not matter. So hurry up and get better!”
And, as if that was all there was to be said on the matter, Agni strode out of the room, locking it behind him, and leaving Sebastian alone with his burgeoning existential crisis.
Love?
Agni loved him?
Unable to take it a second longer, Sebastian let his human form melt away, becoming seething, roiling darkness once more.
The word echoed damningly throughout his consciousness, and he peered through his many eyes to locate every silvery patch of blight.
Incensed, upset, overjoyed? He didn't know what emotion was echoing through him, but he knew he could not stand it.
Viciously, he dug his claws into the first of dozens of patches and dealt with the problem the way he understood best.
By eviscerating it until it bothered him no more.
Agni didn't sleep that night.
The confirmation that Sebastian ‘wasn't normal’, as Baldroy had put it, wasn't honestly a shock. He couldn't have been, to keep up with Agni the way that he did. To go without food and rest, the way that he did. To survive the unsurviveable the way that he did.
He had desperately wanted to question Sebastian further, to truly understand the person he'd given his heart to, but the heart-breaking trepidation he'd seen on that beloved face as soon as he'd broached the topic wasn't worth the knowledge. That, and the honest shock in his eyes when Agni had professed his love painted a very bleak picture about just what Sebastian thought of himself.
Agni, therefore, could content himself with the knowledge he did have, and would learn more with patience in the future, once he had erased every sad doubt that bothered Sebastian about his place in Agni's heart.
Resolved, Agni set about to fulfil his promise.
Caring for Ciel was an exercise in patience.
Prince Soma had kindly excused him for the day, once he explained, stating that he was tired from watching over Ciel all night anyway. Agni bowed in gratitude, and the Prince had chivvied him away, eager to sleep.
Perhaps he was too accustomed to Prince Soma’s temperament, who, when sick, wanted attention and reassurance, and was content to do anything Agni suggested to feel better. Learning to navigate the young Phantomhive’s care was another matter altogether.
Ciel had flatly refused to eat the nourishing salt and turmeric dalia Agni prepared for his breakfast, demanding something richer and sweeter instead. When Agni pushed back on the request, he refused to eat altogether, and the ensuing tirade he'd launched into only ended up provoking a coughing fit, that had the boy doubled over and shaking.
Agni had tried to calm him with a touch, to encourage him to lean back and breathe, and his hand had been slapped away with such force that he'd let it hang there limply.
Then, when he had tried to get the boy into fresh clothes, ones not soaked with sweat on accounts of the fever, Ciel had drawn the blanket around himself even tighter, burying himself within it and refusing to come out.
He was still cocooned away now, and Agni conceded he was at a loss.
Was there any single thing he could do? Asking hadn't worked, reasoning hadn't worked, pleading hadn't worked…
He sat there, next to the boy's bedside, thinking in endlessly spiralling circles, before he noticed a deck of cards, tossed aside by Prince Soma last night while he was keeping Ciel company. They had apparently been mid-game when Ciel had fallen asleep.
Inspiration struck like a clap of thunder on a sunny day. Ciel liked games, and his competitive streak was unrivalled. Perhaps…
Yes, he thought, smiling, that might just work.
Agni left the bedroom, quickly walking to the Prince's room and picking up a small wooden lacquered box. He then went to the pantry and procured a small tin. Inside, nestled in thin paper wrappers, were some delicately crafted marzipan fruits, colourful and dusted with crunchy sugar. He returned to the young boy’s room, entering and eyeing the quilted lump with renewed determination.
He set down the tin of sweets by the Earl's beside table, only just containing a chuckle as the boy sat up, intrigued. He eyed Agni with suspicion, waiting for whatever trickery was afoot.
Agni then pulled over a second chair, placing it between him and the bed, and placed upon it the wooden box. He gently lifted the lid. A stack of brightly coloured, intricately patterned circular cards tipped out into his hands, edged in gold leaf and painted with various numbers and mythological figures. Agni arranged them into eight stacks of twelve apiece, before he, with practiced hands, mixed four of the suits together into one deck.
“I thought,” Agni said, smiling brightly, “You might prefer a game instead. Have you played with Ganjifa cards before?”
Ciel shook his head, coughing into his fist.
“Well then,” Agni said, passing him a teacup to soothe his throat, “How about we make a wager? I shall teach you Dashavatar, a game I think you will like a lot. For every game you win, you may have one of the sweets!”
Ciel’s visible eye widened, before narrowing in suspicion, calculating as ever. “And what if you win?”
“Discerning as ever, Lord Phantomhive,” Agni praised, placing the cards down, “If I win, you must do as I ask, to the best of your abilities. I will not ask you to do something I do not genuinely believe will help you feel better, and, if you have any serious objections, I will listen. Is that acceptable?”
“I'm already at a disadvantage, though,” the boy said, frowning, “You know this game well, I presume?”
“Yes, that is a fair assumption,” Agni said, considering his options. The fact Ciel hadn't outright denied his terms was a good sign. “How about this? For every third victory I gain, you do as I ask. Is that acceptable?”
“Hmph,” Ciel scoffed, sitting forwards and examining the card deck, “It's risky of you to assume I'll lose three times!”
Agni raised a snow white brow. “That is the challenge I am prepared to take on, Lord Phantomhive.”
"Alright, then, I accept your terms,” Ciel sniffed, “So come, then, how does this game work?”
Agni explained the rules, how the eight suits worked in terms of hierarchy, the switch between a daytime trump suit and nighttime trump suit, and how the hukm or burning rule worked. Ciel nodded along, and Agni began the game.
He dealt Ciel four cards, then himself, then Ciel, and so on until the deck was handed out. He allowed the Earl to start, watching as he placed down a card stylised with a boar headed figure, and a card depicting a six. A high middle, quite the clever move.
He considered his own hand. He had a 10, 8, and 3 in the same suit. He played the 8, deciding to be kind in the first rounds. The boy smirked, immediately placing down a Vizier.
“I believe that trick is to me, then,” he said, muffling a cough once more.
“Indeed it is, Lord Phantomhive,” Agni smiled, and extended the box of sweets, “Enjoy your winnings.”
The boy snagged a sweet in the shape of a pear, brushed green and pink, before returning to his hand.
Agni let Ciel win the next two tricks, building the boy's courage and familiarity. Then, he set about playing in earnest.
He won the next three tricks with ease, carefully explaining to Ciel how he won, and what moves of the Earl's he had exploited to do so, hoping to ease the sting of the loss.
“Tch, alright, you've made your point,” Ciel grumbled, crossing his arms, “What is it that you would have me do?”
“I would like for you to change out of those night clothes and into clean ones, Lord Phantomhive,” he said, and he watched as the boy's shoulders bunched up to his ears. Before he could protest, Agni continued to speak, “I understand you have reservations about changing in front of someone you do not know and trust the same way you do Sebastian. If I place the clothes on the bed and leave the room, would this be acceptable?”
Ciel stared at him, assessing. Agni refused to look away, assuming this would work in the same fashion it did when Sebastian was judging his words. After a moment, his patience was rewarded.
The young boy nodded, once, and Agni bowed his head in gratitude. He went to the Earl's chest of drawers, and withdrew a fresh night shirt and smalls. He placed them at the foot of the bed, before taking his cards with him - an old habit - as he left. He closed the door with a gentle snick, listening to the sounds of rustling fabric and muffled coughing.
After a minute or two, he was called in. He placed the discarded clothing and used cooling rags in a hamper, leaving it outside for Mey-Rin. He then returned to the game.
Over the course of the day, he got the Earl to eat a healthy lunch, permit a cursory wiping down of his limbs (Ciel had refused point blank to remove his shirt before the question was even raised, and Agni knew better than to press the issue), and take his medicine without complaint.
Agni had allowed him to win enough games to eat a third of the box of sweets, which probably helped matters.
By mid-afternoon, Ciel was noticeably flagging, eye fluttering shut and head lolling to one side before he caught himself. Agni chuckled, setting down his cards. He tidied away the game, and pulled the thick feather duvet up to the boy's chin. He placed a cool rag on his forehead, and was just preparing to leave, when the Earl spoke again, more quietly and uncertainly than he'd ever heard.
“Sebastian always stays until I fall asleep,” Ciel whispered, sounding all at once like the tiny child he truly was, “Will you?”
“Of course,” Agni replied, as if there were any other answer possible, “I shall wait right here until sleep finds you.”
Ciel nodded, a small tentative thing, before he closed his eye.
Agni waited, listening to the Earl's breathing even out before, in a matter of minutes, the boy slipped soundly into sleep. Agni moved noiselessly, checking his temperature with the back of his hand, and noting he appeared cooler than before. He then left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Well, that was the Lord Phantomhive cared for, he supposed. Now all that was left was the five remaining hours until he could check on Sebastian.
Coming back to consciousness was a miserable experience.
The tattered mess of shadow, claws and teeth that was the Phantomhive butler groaned, forcing open seven of his eyes.
By the dim light filtering through the curtains, dampened somewhat by the shadows that had claimed every inch of the space, he could tell dusk was approaching. That felt significant in some manner, though the reason escaped him.
He moved, stretching out his form in its dreadful entirety, and keeping the hiss that bubbled up within him trapped behind his many teeth.
The damage was horrific.
Great gouges ran along the length of what could be deemed his torso, frantic claw and bite marks a damning tableau of pain and anger. He'd been forced to amputate a whole limb that had shriveled and cankered with blight, and one of his wings would be utterly unusable until the membrane regenerated.
Still, though, he felt better.
The creeping cold had been banished away, and he could reach for his power once more without issue.
If he ever got his claws on that wretched grim reaper, he was going to pay him back with interest!
He heard footsteps coming down the corridor, and dispatched an eye to peer beneath the door.
A familiar form was approaching, with snow white hair, kind grey eyes, handsomely wrapped in green silks.
Love...
Agni!
All thirteen eyes widened in alarm. He quickly pulled all of his shadows back in, letting the light reclaim the space. He heard the sound of a key scraping in the lock, and concentrating, he willed the room back into perfect order.
He also pulled flesh and bone back together around him, and, by the time the door was pushed open, Sebastian Michaelis was sitting up in bed, reclined against several pillows.
Agni entered the room, a small plate and tea kettle balanced on a silver tray. He smiled when he saw Sebastian, setting the tray down and crossing the room. He sat on the bed next to him, and took his gloved hand in between his own.
“Sebastian,” Agni said, checking him over with a glance, “You are looking better already. Tell me honestly, jaanu, how are you feeling?”
Sebastian tilted his head to one side, consideringly. He couldn't honestly say he felt completely well, that would come in time, but, he supposed, he could resume his usual duties without strain.
“Better,” he said, forcing uncooperative flesh into a wry smile, “I feel much better. I hope the Young Master didn't give you too much trouble?”
“Good, I am relieved to hear it,” Agni said, squeezing his hand, “Young Ciel is resting. He still has a fever, but it has waned, and I was able to get him to eat, drink, and wash without too much trouble.”
“However did you manage that?” Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow, “He hardly lets Tanaka clothe him, and he has known the boy all his life!”
Agni smiled craftily, and Sebastian thought guile was an immensely attractive look on the man.
“Oh, it was nothing too challenging, ” he began, standing and retrieving the plate, “I turned helping him recover into a game, and Young Ciel was most agreeable to it.”
“A game?” Sebastian asked, moving over slightly to give Agni room to settle against him, “How so?”
“Interested in copying my methods, jaanu?” Agni laughed, and Sebastian wanted to pin him to the mattress until he spilled his secrets, “I just taught him how to play Dashavatar, and wagered a sweet against doing what he needed to do to recover as prizes for victories. In fairness, though,” and here, he paused, smile taking on a harder edge, “I may not have disclosed that being a prolific card cheat was in part what led to my arrest back in India.”
“Oh?” Sebastian said, intrigue growing. Agni was always hesitant to share anything of his past before meeting the Prince, and Sebastian, greedy for details, was always interested in whatever he chose to share.
“Yes,” Agni said, and his smile faded like sun drifting behind clouds, “As part of the Indian Penal Code, cheating at cards was punishable by imprisonment for up to one year. I was arrested on those grounds, and they used that time to build a case on… well, on everything else. ”
Sebastian disliked the shame etching itself across Agni's face. He lifted their conjoined hands up, and kissed the back of his bandaged hand, relishing in the sting of it.
“Well,” he said, locking eyes with Agni as he did so, “Thank you very much for using such skill to look after the Young Master. You truly are a butler without equal.”
“Not quite without equal,” Agni said, and Sebastian relished in seeing the shame retreat, “I still have much to learn from you yet, Sebastian.”
They lapsed into warm silence, both picking at the little plate of idlis Agni had brought with him.
Before long, however, Agni spoke again. He turned to face Sebastian, a gentle hand running down his chest to rest over his sternum. “I know you said that you felt better,” Agni said, concern marring his handsome face once more, “But could I please check your wound once more?”
Sebastian nodded, and began to unbutton his shirt. Agni batted his hands away, throwing a leg over him, and settling in his lap. He continued to make quick work of Sebastian’s night shirt (something he'd felt it necessary to procure since they began spending their nights together), deftly slipping it from his shoulders and discarding it on the chair next to the bed.
It brought to mind evenings where Agni had done this exact same ritual before, but with… decidedly less worry on his face.
Agni unwound the bandages covering his chest, letting them fall away and was unable to hide the naked shock in his face as he took in the sight. He looked down at his chest, back to his face, then back to his chest once more. He ran his hand down completely unblemished skin before firm hands pulled him forwards. Agni peered over his shoulder, seeing similar unmarked skin there, too.
He drew back, clear bafflement on his face. “How is this possible?” he whispered, awed.
“Well,” Sebastian said, hands trailing down Agni's sides and settling on his hips, “I guess you could say, I am simply one hell of a butler.”
Agni snorted, amused despite himself. “At least you were spared a scar,” he said, shivering appealingly as Sebastian’s fingers traced light circles across his silk sherwani. Sebastian could see familiar fire burning in those grey eyes, and he thought it a waste not to fan the flames.
“Why, Agni,” Sebastian murmured, leaning in until they were nose to nose, “Would it detract from my appearance?”
“Not in the least,” Agni said, flushing in a manner that had Sebastian tightening his grip, “My love for you is not conditioned by your appearance, as handsome as you are. You should know this.”
Ah, there it was again. That damning little word that humans were so careless with.
Love was something he could never truly reciprocate. Demons, by nature, could not love. He could care, in his own self-serving, greedy manner, but love…
Love was altruistic, as he understood it. It was nauseatingly gentle and sacrificial, a subsummation of the loved into the lover. It was the one thing, in all of creation, that he could never do. And, until this very second, that was an immutable fact of his nature that he had never once resented.
It would be easiest to lie, to repeat the same pithy phrase to the man and let him hear what he wished to, but something uncomfortable twisted in him at the thought. It didn't feel right, and Agni, dear, foolish, wonderful, Agni deserved better.
He smiled ruefully, pressing his forehead against Agni's once again. Agni cupped his cheeks, drawing away slightly, and he kissed him with an aching tenderness that would drive Sebastian to madness if he permitted it. He gripped him harder, sliding a gloved hand under silk, and deepened the kiss, distracting himself in the way Agni shuddered against him.
When Agni ran short of breath, he broke away, peppering kisses along the column of his throat, nipping with blunted teeth. “You must know,” Sebastian said lowly, beginning to pluck at the ornate buttons of Agni's sherwani, “That, in all my life, I have never met a hu-person I could say I cared for as much as you. I admire you,” he continued, dropping kisses along the shoulders he was bearing to the cold air of the room, “I trust you,” he paused, divesting Agni of the garment completely and tossing it aside, “and I respect you. I can say that I have never honestly said that about anyone else before.”
He pulled away, hesitating to say anything else. He admired the slowly blossoming bruises along Agni's throat and the gratifyingly dazed look in those dear grey eyes. Agni shook his head slightly to clear it. He leaned back in, an ecstatic smile on his face, and his hands slid into Sebastian’s hair once more.
“Jaanu,” he whispered, kissing him again, “That is more than enough for me.”
Sebastian detected no lie in his words.
He kissed Agni once again, and they lost themselves in each other once more.
Sebastian watched the light of dawn crawl into the room once more, the unstoppable march of time continuing onwards eternally.
Agni was snoring softly against his shoulder, and he could sense the Young Master still sleeping soundly several rooms above him. The pain in his form was little more than a dull ache, and, startlingly, he could hear the sounds of the other servants stirring awake, getting ready for the day without issue.
It seemed, for once, as if there was nothing at all that he needed to do.
He surrendered to sloth, not rising from bed, and burrowed into Agni's embrace further.
They could have ten more minutes.