Author's Note: MalexMale Relationships in the future. Don't like, don't read. I (sadly) own nothing.

Enjoy.

552 BC, Athens

Fire. Fire everywhere. Fire around him, above him, beneath him… Fire in his lungs, fire attached to the end of his white chiton (1), fire reflected against his teary, blue eyes.

"Mother… Father…" he choked out, standing in front of the quickly burning house. He stood there silently, watching his home crumble to rubble in the dark, quiet night. The only thing he heard was the crackle of the fire and the sound of the stones and clay as they tumbled down to the ground. He swallowed thickly as he clasped his hands close to his chest, feeling his heart beat against his thin clothing.

Where are they?

His parents were nowhere to be seen. They had told him to run, to leave the burning house as fast as he could. And he did as they asked. So why weren't they here?

He looked around him with wide eyes that were teary from the smoke of the fire. Finally, a few people arrived, running quickly with buckets of water. "Ciel! What happened?!" they yelled, but without waiting for a response from the young boy, they began to put out the fire, tossing bucketful after bucketful of water onto the burning scene in front of them.

Ciel walked closer, standing beside one of them and asking, "Where are Mother and Father?"

The man looked up at the boy incredulously and said, "What are you talking about, child?! They're still in there?!"

Ciel's eyes widened, naivety clear in their depths as he swallowed. "I-I don't know…"

The man quickly ran into the house, the fire now a little more settled down. A few people followed him, quickly guessing why he went in there.

Worry and fear settled in Ciel's heart, and he quickly moved to run after the men, but another man held him back. "You can't go in there! It's too dangerous!"

"But Mother-! Father-!" Ciel protested, trying to push at the man, the tears in his eyes welling and spilling over, streaming down his cheeks as the situation finally sunk in.

I may never see them again…

Finally, the men came out, one carrying his mother and the other carrying his father.

"Mother! Father!" Ciel yelled out, running over to them.

The men tried to hide the bodies from the boy, but it was too late.

He caught sight of his father's open eyes, the whites of them darkened from the fire. The features of his face were barely noticeable, and Ciel said, his head shaking with disbelief, "This isn't my father! This is someone else! This is not my father!"

But a man replied, "It is, Ciel… It is…"

How could this be his father? This man's face was browned, with red blotches against it, his clothing tattered and parts of his skin peeled off. And though the woman's eyes were closed, her condition was no better. Her open mouth revealed a tongue that had already been burned, now just a small clot.

Ciel trembled in the arms of the man, who was still holding him in case the trauma caused him to do something perilous.

"W-w-what?! Are they…" he swallowed, unable to say the word that he was so accustomed to hearing in such a precarious place as Greece, where war and death were both common.

The men holding the two bodies nodded slowly as they walked away, leaving Ciel with the man holding him. The young boy slowly sunk to the ground, his eyes wide and pupils tiny as he continued to stare at the fire.

Fire.

Fire.

Fire.

When Ciel woke up, he found himself in a strange bedroom. It was small and meager, not what he was used to considering his noble upbringing.

He was lying in a small kline bed, the mattress hard against his back and the pillow patched and stuffed with hay. He slowly sat up and looked around, finding nothing else besides the bed but a nightstand with a jug of water on it.

Groggily rubbing his eyes and trying to absorb this new location, the events of last night finally settled in his mind.

My parents… died…

It sounded so wrong, so strange in his childlike mind, but at the same time, it was so true. He knew it was true. The men carrying his parents knew it was true. Perhaps his parents now, wherever they are, know it is true.

But where was he now? Why was he in this room? He couldn't even remember what happened before he was brought here. Did he faint? Fall asleep? He didn't know.

Deciding to discover on his own, he carefully slipped out of the bed and walked towards the door, opening it and exiting out of it.

His eyes widened at the sight in front of him. It was as if he entered a completely different world compared to the small, scanty room he just left. The hallway he was now standing in had marble floors and large, polished columns. Paintings embellished every wall, and statues adorned every corner. His confusion increased as he continued walking, the only sound being the sound of his bare feet stepping against the marble floors.

When he reached the end of the hallway, he found two doors. He could hear voices behind one of them, and his childlike curiosity spiked inside of him as he pressed his ear against the door.

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" a womanly voice asked with an edge of irritation.

"I'm telling you… Stone and clay are made to resist fire. Greek houses are very difficult to burn down. The gods are angry with us. The gods have sent their wrath upon us," a loud, authoritative voice spoke.

"I still hold to the opinion that the gods have sent down a demon among us to torture and torment us. Fire is a demon's power," a squeaky voice said.

"Demon, hm?" the womanly voice spoke.

"Yes, demon," the squeaky voice said again.

"Well, why do you think the little boy survived?"

"The boy survived because he is pure. He is loved by the gods," the authoritative voice asserted.

The squeaky voice said, "You may be right, Tyrant Peisistratos (2)."

Tyrant Peisistratos, Ciel thought. The tyrant! He looked around him, slowly starting to connect the dots. Am I in the palace?!

"Of course I am right," the tyrant said. A long silence followed his statement before the tyrant said quietly, "I believe a sacrifice is in order..."

"Yes, it is," the squeaky voice and the womanly voice said in unison.

"This concludes our meeting. I will announce the day and time of the sacrifice, and I will see you then," the tyrant said. There was a loud sound – perhaps of his staff against the ground.

Ciel quickly moved away from the door, knowing this was a conversation he was most certainly not allowed to overhear. He made his way back to the room he awoke in and went back to sitting on the bed.

As he sat on the small mattress, loneliness settled in. He looked around the room for something to do, someone to talk to… His parents were no longer here.

I want to go home…

That one thought rang and repeated in his head, but he knew he could never go back home again. This was probably his best bet. Maybe the tyrant will grant him a new home.

But even if the tyrant could rebuild his house, Ciel knew it could never be home... never again. Not after he saw his parents' burned carcasses.

His knees bent up, and he wrapped his arms around his legs, burying his face in his knees and curling up into himself.

What will happen to me now?

Just then, a knock sounded on the door, and Ciel turned his head to look at the visitor. He was a slave, holding a tray of food. "Good morning," he said politely. Ciel did not respond, just looking up at the man. Walking carefully towards the boy, the slave placed the tray beside him on the nightstand and left.

Ciel's family had several slaves. Did they also die?

He looked down at the food. It was barley bread dipped in wine (3) with a few figs on the side. There was also a cup of water beside his breakfast. He slowly began eating the food before drinking the water, swallowing it down and lying back in bed with a soft sigh.

His eyes lidded, and he fell asleep. At least this time he knew what happened before he lost consciousness.

When Ciel woke up this time, it wasn't his own choice. A man yanked him by the hair and yelled into his ear, "Wake up, boy!"

Ciel yelped, grabbing for the person's wrist. "Ah, d-don't! That hurts!"

The man threw Ciel over his shoulder and exited the small room, heading down several hallways until he finally reached a dungeon and tossed Ciel onto the hard ground.

Pain shot through Ciel's back at being thrown so hard against the ground, and he winced, his eyes squeezing shut.

The man quickly began stripping Ciel's clothes, and the boy struggled, pushing at the man's large, strong arms. "W-what's going on?!"

The man slapped Ciel hard. "Shut up! You're wasting time!"

Just then, a familiar womanly voice spoke, her tone disapproving. "Now, now, now. Didn't I tell you not to abuse our little sacrifice?"

The woman from the conversation with the tyrant!

The man's tone suddenly went apologetic and extremely polite as he turned around to look at the woman, now looming above him. Her dress was a dark, bloody red and trailed behind her on the ground. Her hair color was an extremely pale blond, perched upon her head in a loose bun, red roses circling around it. Her eyes were ice blue as they focused on Ciel, her expression appreciative. "Have you checked if he was pure?"

"Not yet. I was just about to, but he keeps struggling!"

The woman leaned down, crouching to be face-to-face with Ciel. Her hand raised to stroke Ciel's face, her long fingernails lightly trailing against the boy's cheek, sending shivers down his spine. "Aaaww, poor baby. So afraid~. Don't worry… This sacrifice will be quick. We'll send you back to the gods who love you. We'll send you back to Mommy and Daddy. Don't you want to be with them?"

Ciel swallowed and nodded, the woman's voice hypnotic. She's… a witch!

The woman smiled sweetly. "Very good. Now, listen to this kind man over here so we can get this over and done with quickly. The Athenians are all sitting outside, waiting for a good show." She kissed Ciel's cheek before standing, her breasts spilling out of the top of her dress as she gracefully walked away.

The man snickered and resumed undressing the child. Ciel still struggled, the hypnosis of the woman finally fading away and allowing him to be in a sane state of mind again.

"No! I don't want to be sacrificed! I know how they are! I don't want it!"

"I said shut up!" the man finally removed Ciel's clothes and turned him over, exposing his rear entrance. He spread his butt cheeks roughly and examined his entrance before saying, "Yep. You're a virgin. And quite a cute one at that. Pink and niiice~. Yay~!"

Ciel blushed furiously, moving away from the perverted man and backing against the wall. I can't believe this is happening.

The man grabbed for a white piece of cloth and expertly wrapped it around Ciel, picking him up by throwing him over his shoulder. He began climbing up the stairs of the dungeon. A small opening allowed him to see the stage, and he set Ciel down to look as well.

"Now you can watch the royal family come in."

The witch was the one speaking now. "Ladies and gentlemen of Athens, I am honored to stand before you today to witness this momentous sacrifice. As we all know, Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive passed away in a terrible accident yesterday. The gods claimed them back as their own. But they left their one son, Ciel Phantomhive, because he is blessed and loved by the gods. The cause of their death was a fire. We believe this is the work of a demon, for demons possess the power of fire. The Phantomhives' house was sturdy and strong; this can only be the work of a demon. Therefore, this sacrifice is to rid Athens of this accursed demon! And we can only do this by giving the gods someone they love. But before anything, before we start the sacrifice, let us introduce the royal family. First, we have Tyrant Peisistratos."

Loud cheers sounded as the people clapped and hollered for their tyrant. He walked on the stage with unwavering pride and a confident stature. His long, white beard blended in with his white robes, and there was a wreath of laurel leaves around his balding head. When he reached his throne, he stood in front of it, his arms outstretched to his people, before e slowly took a seat.

"His first son, Hipparchus."

Hipparchus came onstage, also looking proud and confident as he made his way to sit beside his father. His hair was a golden color, his eyes a light blue and skin pale with rosy cheeks. He took the throne seated right beside the tyrant's, his head held high.

"His second son, Hippias."

Hippias looked very similar to Hipparchus, except his eyes were darker. He also had a confident, self-assured walk as he sat beside his brother, nodding to him in acknowledgement.

"And last but not least, his foster son, Sebastian."

If the crowd was loud before, it was deafening now. The screams and hollers of the women overpowered the men's, and Ciel could clearly see arms reaching out, waiting for the foster son to come out in hope that they can touch him, in hope that this man's robe may at least brush the women's needy fingers.

Ciel was curious. He had never seen this foster son. He rarely ever made an appearance. Why was everyone going crazy? Why was everyone screaming for this man who wasn't even a direct successor to the throne?

When Ciel saw him, he knew why.

Sebastian was different. Sebastian did not look like the other tyrant's sons. He did not have the wavy, blond hair or the sky blue eyes. His hair was a dark black, strands of it framing his face perfectly, surprisingly unkempt for someone in the royal family. His skin was pale, almost an unworldly kind of pale, and his eyes… His eyes were mesmerizing, almost like a crimson sea… a sea of blood. Even his clothes were different. His brothers wore white gowns, and he wore black ones. All black.

Ciel kept staring. Sebastian smirked at the screaming, insane audience as he slowly took his seat. Ciel noticed the look on Hipparchus's and Hippias's faces. They were seething with anger at how much attention Sebastian got, and Ciel could actually hear Hippias growl to Hipparchus, "He isn't even his legitimate son!"

Sebastian, almost as if he could feel Ciel's eyes on him, looked down through the open crack on the stage. His red eyes met Ciel's blue ones, and the confident smirk left his face, replaced by a curious look.

Ciel quickly ducked, hiding away from those burning, scorching eyes.

Burning, scorching… Like the fire that killed his parents.

Footnotes

1. A chiton is a garment similar to a tunic but with light linen, usually worn by both genders and all ages. Women's chitons were long, hanging down to the ankles, and men's chitons fell to their knees.

2. Peisistratos was a Greek tyrant who ruled in Athens between 561 and 527 BC. He was actually a very fair and just ruler. As a sidenote, the term "tyrant" now holds a negative connotation, but in Ancient Greece, this was the word used for any ruler, good or bad.

3. Barley bread dipped in wine was commonly eaten for breakfast in Ancient Greece. Often, there would be figs or olives to complement the bread.