Black Dawn

He had not meant to sleep in.

Ciel had woken on his own – an unusual circumstance, and one his butler would have never allowed to happen, had he not sent him on an errand that required a more sophisticated touch. He deigned to dress himself, and so when he entered his study his string bow-tie was askew and his laces were uneven, the ends of his shoes scuffed from a slight trip on the stairs the previous night. He settled in his comfortable leather chair and watched while the tendrils of a new, bitter winter morning filtered in, touching each and every dusted book cover stuffed in the shelves, highlighting the shine of polished furniture and the silver fountain pens that laid atop his desk.

Mey-Rin delivered his tea on a tray. It shook and veered from side-to-side, and he watched as small drops of hot water flew out of the spout and dissipated in the air. She stopped just a scant foot in front of him and bowed several times over, her jittery voice and overly round glasses like that of a character in a penny dreadful.

"Your tea, master!" she announced. Ciel nodded, and the maid started to pour a cup with her shaking hands. He often wondered how she managed to tie her bonnet over her red hair or even press her own clothes without injuring herself. Out of the corner of his eye, the earl caught sight of a white envelope, unsealed, and he reached out to take it.

"Who delivered this?" He questioned as he turned it over in his hand.

"I don't know, my lord," she replied. "Finn found it in one of the hedges this morning, and he only took a small peek before he saw your name and brought it right in."

"Was it unsealed when he found it?" Ciel slipped the note, for it was not sizable enough to be considered a letter, out from its sheath and held it up to the light.

"That it was, master."

It had the light scent of perfume; not that of a woman's, but a man's, and the earl fancied it a rather unique fragrance. An earthy musk with a note of something other, but not any ingredient he could recall.

"Unusual." He acknowledged. Then he added, in the same even voice, "Sebastian would have found and questioned the messenger by now."

There was a slight panic in Mey-Rin's movements when he spoke. She stilled, the teacup in her hand teetering precariously in its saucer, before he waved dismissively and set the note at his side. "The tea, Mey-Rin."

She let out a sigh of relief, setting her burden down before him. Ciel noted the ring of dark water staining the bottom of his saucer, and he closed his eyes with a quiet, frustrated huff. Once he had seen her leave the room, he picked up the cup and took a small sip.

Weaker than Sebastian's, he thought.

The note sat at his side for a long moment as he prepared himself to read it. A midnight messenger was never a good sign, and their presence in his home led to some small offence, for it was his kingdom and no one – not even shadowed couriers – was welcome to flounce his authority.

Ciel reclined in his chair and picked it up. With a cool nonchalance, he unfolded the note with one hand while the other held his tea aloft.

His eyes widened. The grip around that dainty handle loosened, and before he knew it the cup had fallen and he heard, distantly, as it smashed against the floor. He was not even aware of the tea splattering his socks. Ciel leaned forward in his seat, his palm pressed down on his desktop, while his fingers tightened around the note as though it would disappear if he released it.

"Sebastian, come back – that's an order!"

"Hm."

Sebastian held out his hand to Ciel, who had left the study in favour of his drawing room. The note sat on the coffee table beside a new platter of tea, its edges frayed, and the earl's clothes had been straightened, as befit his status. Ciel thought he would never have that scent out of his nose.

"May I, my lord?"

He passed the note to him. Sebastian held it up to read it, and in that moment, dressed in his tail-coat and impeccably clean butler's attire, the child could almost convince himself that he was an ordinary human. But of course there was the jet-black hair, and the eyes that were almost crimson, and his pale porcelain-like skin – and the memories. The memories never faded.

Earl Phantomhive,

The cat catches the crow.

1885.

"Interesting." The demon brought it closer to his face and sniffed. A small smile came to his lips, but he did not open his eyes as he folded the paper up. "Very interesting indeed. But I'm afraid I don't understand—"

"Eighteen-eighty-five," Ciel interrupted. He had his cheek propped against his fist, staring out of one of the high-arched windows that overlooked his estate. "The year of my parents' murder. The year we formed our contract."

The butler paused. He drew closer, until he stood beside him, then bowed to refill his teacup.

"When you first appeared to me, you took the form of a crow."

"All rather circumstantial, no, my lord?" Sebastian straightened with the teapot in his hand. His expression held his usual scepticism, but Ciel had learnt to read the subtle amusement in his smile; a tell-tale sign that he knew, or at least suspected, more than he revealed.

"Circumstantial?" Ciel scoffed. "An unsealed letter referencing both the date of my parents' deaths and a crow, left to be found by my servants rather than delivered to me through the proper channels. I find it difficult to believe all of that is circumstantial. So, it stands to reason that whoever wrote this knows of your true nature; and that this 'cat' is capable, at least in their eyes, of challenging you. Perhaps even defeating you."

Sebastian offered him a small smile as he returned the pot to its place. "That would imply this 'cat' is strong enough to battle a demon, which seems absurd, does it not?"

"I don't know, Sebastian," Ciel turned to face him. His single blue eye stared at him without wavering, and for a moment it seemed as if even his eyepatch accused him. "Does it?"

There was a pause. The butler matched his lord's stare for a beat that spanned seconds but felt much longer, before he broke their match by bowing low, his back straight and his voice calm. "What would you have me do, master?"

"Look into this matter for me," the earl took his teacup and reclined into his armchair. "Follow any line of inquiry that you find."

"Any line, my lord?"

"Yes, no matter how 'absurd' it may seem. Take the note with you." He said. "If someone knows this much about us – that you aren't what you appear to be – it implies a deeper knowledge of the events behind that night. It's vital that we find this person and force that knowledge out of them."

"Yes, my lord."

"Go now."

Sebastian straightened and departed the room in a flash of movement too fast for the mortal eye to track. Silence descended in his absence, broken only by Ciel's sips of tea.