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His chains chimed as he looked up.

There was something there, a new scent. Burning wood, the warmth of the air, the scent of a body, the sound of rushing blood and of soft labored breaths.

He obviously had a visitor.

The steps were light and they had a seeming grace to them, far from the clunking and bungling motion most of the guards from the higher floors called walking. A noble had come to visit-a foreign noble. He had to smirk at that. He'd had his share of bargaining cut-throats and gutless vermin all in their golden finery. All of them wearing silk and velvet as if the shimmer of gold and the glitter of silver could hide their in adequacy- their apparent lack of worth.

Whenever they patted their purses and showed off their jewelry he simply smiled.

"…My…my but don't you know? Gold does not glitter in the dark and it is pitch black here…."

Most of them left without much ado making one story after another to save face, to hide the fact that they cowered before him when he chuckled and trained his deep red eyes on them.

The steps grew louder and so did the wheezing. He could almost feel the warmth of the torch; almost see the light of it. No one else had ever thought of bringing a torch to his cell, they were all cautious to keep themselves in the dark both for their protection and for their will. No one had seen him in more than three centuries and he knew that even the best of those who had bound him had probably returned to dust. In the summers and harvests that had passed the thought of likeness of his kind had been altered by pitifully short memories and wild imaginations. He, at times, chuckled at the utter stupidity of the descriptions he heard from the guards.

He had two heads? He only needed one to think!

A thousand teeth? Where would he put those? Even his eyes would have a set of chompers on them!

A hundred limbs? He only needed four. What would he do with the remaining six and ninety?

It humored him whenever things felt a little more boring than usual.

A sickly light crawled up the wall to his right. It was a feeble yellowish glow but to him, who had not seen the sun for more than three generations, it seemed like a beacon had suddenly walked into the room. He closed his eyes until they adjusted but by the time they did big bright sapphire ones were already trained on him.

The child, for that was what he was, came alone. He wore expensive silks and velvets but he had no jewels except for a pair of small amethyst studs on his ears and two over-sized rings on his right hand. His clothes, or what seemed to show of it from under the cloak he wore, was in a state of disarray- as if he had come to the Keep with great urgency. He was also unarmed except for a simple silver dagger in a leather sheath that rested at his side.

He seemed a boy of contradictions by the way he looked but his eyes said otherwise. They were a dazzling clear blue, of a deeper tone than lapis lazuli and brighter than sapphire. His eyes did not need the light to glitter for they shone with their own cool fire- aloof and determined. They were the eyes of someone who wanted only one thing, someone who would foolishly risk everything to get at it.

He smirked. The boy was obviously taking stock of him too in their moment to heavy silence. Who was the predator? Who was the prey?

The boy's heart was beating fast. He could hear the rush of blood and he could see the faint color on the other's porcelain cheeks. But he also knew that the flush did not come from fear but, rather, from exertion.

"I am frail." The boy finally spoke. His voice had a subtle richness yet a tone that told the raven that the boy was barely in the flower of his youth. "but I have come to conquer your strength."

It was more of a threat than anything else and the child had spoken it in a way of befitting seriousness. None of the nobles had attempted to threaten him, well, not with such sureness, anyway. He felt no fear and sensed no anxiousness, the other was dead serious-not a hint of reluctance showed through his demeanor.

"We are at war…" the boy continued. It was then that he removed the hood of his heavy velvet cloak, revealing a pair of silken teal colored cat ears.

"Ah. A cat or, rather, a kitten." His voice was deep and it resonated through the whole cell like a subtle hum. His tone had a seductive lilt and was laced with a slight amusement- a haughty smugness- that could either annoy or impress.

The kitten had chosen to be annoyed, if the twitching of his left ear could be any indication.

"But let me correct you, if I may, little princeling" The older spoke- his manner was a mix of well-masked bitterness and seeming boredom. "You and your kind are at war. Anything that happens outside the four corners of my own personal hell…" at this he gestured to his cell as if it were his domain (though, maybe, it really was) "Is none of my business, or so, that is what you predecessors wished." He let his chained hands down tugging at the gleaming silver chains to prove his point.

The Creature, for no one knew what he was or where he came from, was imprisoned in a large cell. A large, airless cell dug directly under a barren hill of gray shale. There were no doors and the only way out would be through a steep spiraling staircase that would lead to a keep which stood on top of the hill and, therefore, on top of the cell. The walls of the chamber were reinforced with thick metal beams and so was its roof for the obvious reason of keeping the prisoner in and keeping the hill itself intact. It did not take him very long to realize that if he ever tried to destroy a wall or the roof-the hill, the keep or both would tumble down on him. And as if that was not enough of a precaution, the beams and the walls were infused with spells and runes that would render his magik close to useless. He was only allowed to keep his supernatural senses and his near-immortality which were really part of his anatomy like sight and touch were part of any other creatures'. They had also restrained his physical movements by means of spell-bound chains that held him to his mock throne which stood on a dais in the center of the room; no doubt also a part of the whole mechanism that imprisoned him.

He had been very amused with the idea of being imprisoned but the novelty of being held captive was starting to fade. He was starting to chafe and ache for something new- something more challenging or at least something that changed on a daily basis. He'd been patient but he was starting to feel the need to feed his flames again.

"I know." The boy answered looking at the other with an increased iciness, if that was even possible. "- and I am not them."

The Creature chuckled. This kitten was worth a game or two. He seemed a worthy sacrifice or a worthy opponent

" Won't you be a traitor to set one such as me free? Aren't you afraid I would not succumb to your threats or your bribes- whichever you chose?"

"All that matters to me is results. As for bribes and threats I make neither" I only do. As if to prove his point he pulled the plain dagger from its sheath and headed for the throne.

The Creature raised his brow but continued to watch, interested by the fact that a ritual can actually be done in a room so devoid of magik. The kitten cut his wrist in one fast motion and let the blood flow through a groove at the center of the short blade. The dull amber of the Creature's eyes turned into a fiery ruby red as his senses were filled with the sight and scent of blood. Warm, tangy blood that coursed though pulsing veins it was like a draught of cold water after walking for years in a barren desert. The chains sounded as he started to fist his hands a dark look coming over his features.

If the kitten knew the hunger in the other's eyes he took no notice of it as he continued to work on the spell. Murmuring unspoken words, he sheathed the dagger on a gilded slit just before the dais. He turned the hilt like a key and the whole cell came to life. There was creaking and chugging and the movement of rusty metal as the hill itself responded to being unlocked. The Creature was pulled out of his hunger-induced contemplation as the runes started to work. The silver chains fell away as rust ate at them at an alarming rate but he still found himself unable to move. The runes were taking his power, using it against him. That had been one of the mysteries of his prison cell- how were the runes deactivated? These were Deep Magiks taken from the Dawn of Days and complicated rituals usually accompanied their casting and their lifting. He was weakening too fast for any of those options and he knew that in a matter of seconds he would start to lose consciousness.

When the heaving and the shaking stopped and the hill seemed to settle into itself once more. The child rose from his kneeling position. He ran up the dais and placed his still-bleeding wrist on the Creature's slightly opened mouth. The older man was unconscious and so drinking was out of the question. In a moment of quick decision the boy pressed his own wrist to his petal lips and took a draught. He placed his lips over the others and pushed the blood to the other with his tongue. He took draught after draught of his own blood until he had to hold onto the throne for support. After what seemed like thousands of doses the runes started to disappear. The reverse reaction had begun.

He was shaking from the cold and the loss of blood but even as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him, with his blood-stained lips he started to whisper.

"A cat has three names. Two are known and given and the last is kept." His voice was soft and breathy. "A cat has three names but you shall only have one….Sebastian…" He started to falter but it did not matter the spell was not simply a binding spell- it did not have to be continuous.

"Sebastian…I name you, Sebastian and you shall be my servant. My breath shall be your breath, my life shall be your life, my enemies you shall slay and by my will- and only mine shall you abide…"

It was then that the Creature opened his eyes. He felt his power coming back in waves but he also felt an unusual tug. It was as if a part of him was leaking- flowing into another. His essence was not only his but it was mingled with something else; something bitter and rich- a different soul.

"I, Ciel, Earl of Phantomhive, Master bind you…"

Ah. That was it.

And with that the child fell into the Creature's waiting arms.

"Yes…" Sebastian smirked "My Lord…"

The Words of Power Ciel had spoken that night did not bind Sebastian to his service.

No. It would be a folly to think that.

That night, Sebastian was bridged, not bound

He was bridged to Ciel.

The Words of Power the Earl of Phantomhive used was for the mingling of souls. As he finished his declaration by the name of Master he had let the damn that held his and Sebastian's soul crack and so both their essences flowed into one basin.

He had bound them together irrevocably.

He held the book gently, inspecting its metal binds running his free hand over its faded leather covers.

It was a lovely day and a pleasant breeze danced through the Keep's garden.

"A cat has three names…" he breathes it out as if it were a sigh.

It was his favorite poem. He had loved saying out loud in declamation as a child and even now that he was a little older he still liked reading it.

"Two is known and given but one is kept…" A familiar voice answers.

"Lord Sebastian," he nods in greeting though he does not turn his head to face the other.

"I believe you are late for your lessons, your highness?" the other asks in a teasing tone.

"I see. I'll be there shortly."

"Are you feeling well, your highness?" the other placed a hand on the kitten's shoulder turning his body.

"Why? Have you heard me sniffle or cough?" the tone was bored and sarcastic.

"Oh, no. It's just that you seem to have no icy glare to throw or sharp rebuttal to snap at me today." The raven smiled amicably as he continued to tease his young charge.

The boy did turn and glare at him at that but the older only laughed.

But you shall have only one….I name you, Sebastian

"I shall have my lessons now." The boy stood and walked towards the building.

"Yes, My Lord…." He spoke, barely a whisper, as he followed- for he always followed.

AN: Uh. My muse visited me and bombarded me with this so she had me writing in one fell swoop. Anyway, this is still practically part of the story though its something new and even I'm surprised its taking this turn of events. This is sort of a trailer for the following chapters in the future. I'll get back to the main story eventually- when I figure somethings out. hahahaha. So there. you know the drill! please review!