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With Vincent on his side, he'd had a much better chance of ensuring Undertaker didn't end up on the couch at night. And that was what he wanted most. On his own, he knew Undertaker would probably scoop him up after he'd fallen asleep and tucked him into bed.

He'd fallen asleep easily, eyepatch still carefully tied in place to avoid any accidental reveals and head tilted towards Vincent. It was as close to a cuddle as he could get himself to do so far but it was progress at least. If Vincent had arrived a few months earlier, Ciel would have barely tolerated touch.

As it was, it was hard sharing a bed with someone he hadn't felt close to in so long. It wasn't Vincent's fault, Ciel had just not let many people close at all. Undertaker had slipped through the cracks in Ciel's emotional wall over the past few months. His father would as well, it would just take some time. Time that he'd have to sometimes deal with his youngest sons nightmares.

Ciel curled up in his sleep, tossing and turning occasionally, the movements loosening the ties on his eyepatch until it came loose and fell off on his next turn. Little whimpers escaped him from time to time, and his breathing would sharpen until he eventually bolted upright with a scream.

"Undertaker!" It was dark and the nightmare hadn't quite let go of him yet but he knew he wasn't alone, eyes wide and contract clear to see. Even dulled as it was without his butler there, there remained a faint glow to show the supernatural origin of it.

Deep sleep usually evaded him. He had never really been one to let his guard down entirely - he couldn't risk it in his position - but there were times he needed the rest. A Watch-Dog could not stay awake constantly and routines were necessary for good health. The bed was foreign, yet, surprisingly, the moment his little son was laying beside him, Vincent was able to relax. He was cautious about touching him overmuch - he would stroke his hair - and whisper to him in the dark, but he withheld himself from embracing him.

His son had been made into a victim. There were syndromes that followed such trauma and he was ready to be as patient - as understanding - as "Ciel" needed him to be. The whimpers, however, roused him from his rest, though his eyes did not open until the scream. Pain shot through his body - memories of how his body had been ripped apart - and he grimaced, gasping. The name he called in the dark was not Ciel, but the name of his youngest son instead.

"...what happened?" he reached out in the dark, brow furrowing as he detected a faint...glow. From his son's eye? The one that should not...be.

Vincent froze, hearing his heart pounding in his ears. Through the glow, he detected a very particular symbol; a very unwelcome one.

"Who has marked you?" or, rather, what has marked you?

Edited 2017-11-17 03:31 (UTC)

It hadn't felt like he was asleep long, if he had been asleep at all, when that voice floated to him from downstairs, through the crack of two doors left somewhat open. At first, he thought it must be one of those waking dreams, one that threatened to have him falling off of a roof or off a cliff only to wake him rudely just as he dipped into true slumber, but it felt decidedly wrong.

No waking dream would have him hear Ciel screaming for him like that. It all seemed a little too real. The part of him that worried the most urged his tired limbs into motion and he pulled himself from the softness of the blankets and the warmth of his sheets to exit the room and stand at the balcony, sensitive ears perked and listening intently for anything else that might indicate there was danger about. The house seemed quiet and still and dark, as well it should be at this hour, but he would stay there and wait and listen... Just in case.

His panic had the better hold on him, and it took a moment for his father to take the place of whatever nightmare had been haunting him. And then a hand claps over his right eye, hiding it and the contract seal, while reaching to try to find where his patch fell off.

The fact that it was his own name Vincent had uttered made the teen freeze a moment though. He hadn't heard that name in some time, it felt strange.

"I-It's nothing..!" He switches from hunting for his patch to turning on the bedside light, limbs still a little heavy and clumsy from sleep and knocking it over instead.

The attempt to hide what he had seen did not sit well with him. He had taught his sons not to lie. There were clever ways to bend the truth if need be, but lying was cowardly.

"Nothing does not take the shape of a pentagram. Nothing does not glow in the dark." he was angry, though not at his son, "Should I fetch Undertaker?"

Maybe the man would have some answers. It didn't feel right grilling his son who had already suffered so much. Yet Vincent was on the war path now to find who or what was responsible for marking his child - and for potentially endangering his soul. Satanic symbols were never good omens.

Edited 2017-11-17 04:32 (UTC)

He'd been listening, straining his hearing for something, anything at all to indicate there might be trouble around. He had almost turned away to head back to his room when he heard the sound of something come crashing down, and that hadn't been good for anyone.

Without waiting for an invitation, he started downstairs again in a hurry, intent on reaching the door and knocking before bursting in, if he had to, manners be damned.

Yes, he lied. And yes, Vincent had taught the boys not to, but it had been ingrained on him now. Lying protected him, it was a necessary skill for the Watch Dog. It was habit.

He scowled faintly in the dark, eye still covered, starting when the lamp hit he ground. It was late, and Ciel was tired, and now he had this. Whether he was ready or not, he was going to have to fess up.

"Undertaker already knows about it..." And would probably make Ciel explain it rather than do it himself. Which was when he heard the knock at the door, starting again and turning partway.

"Undertaker..?"

Oftentimes the truth was more unbelievable than a lie in their line of work. But that was a discussion for another time - and a later hour. He rose from the bed to right the lamp - or to see if it was broken. It wouldn't do for them to step on sharp pieces.

"Then either you will tell me or he will." he shook his head to chase away the remnants of sleep, running his fingers through his hair, "Come in."

Perhaps it was best he had them both before him. But perhaps not in the dark. If the lamp was broken, he would need to find the bloody switch.

The first thing he noticed, without much to do with his sight, was that the danger seemed to have passed before he had ever set foot into the room. Neither father nor son were in a fright or a panic, though Vincent seemed to be messing about with what had fallen - a lamp. Nothing special, easily replaced. It seemed not to be working to the man's liking though, and he reached without looking for the switch on the wall.

"If I may." And flipped it. Better for those with vision worth relying on to see again. "And apologies." Because adjusting to light again after it had been so dark very recently was hard even on his eyes for a few moments. But a few blinks had him well past that. "I heard a shout and something broken. Is everything alright?"

The one thing he'd learned over the years was that he didn't like being pushed into a corner, not after everything that had happened. He'd been helpless once, powerless, it wasn't a good feeling. Not then, not now.

Undertaker entered the room and Ciel watched him, looking between him and his father, before slowly letting his hand fall from his bad eye. And then folded his hands in his lap, turning fully so he could see them both without turning his head.

"I had a nightmare." Was all he said, not acknowledging his eye for the moment, almost a challenge.

The light was indeed painful and Vincent closed his eyes against it at first. He opened them tentatively a moment later, letting them adjust in their own time.

"Thank you." he moved to sit on the bed beside Ciel, his frown softening into a look of concern, "I expect nightmares after what you have endured. What I did not expect was your eye." he leaned in to examine it closer, "I have half a mind to call it magic, but how can that be?"

The challenge was not lost on him, though he didn't think it as severe, perhaps, as Ciel had intended it, having been left out of the discussion before he'd entered. For his part, he watched the happenings between father and son and stood apart from it all, though if Ciel was having nightmares it came as a shame to him. Perhaps leaving Vincent alone with the boy wasn't good enough for now, as much as he didn't want to think of it. They were relative - how could it not be right to leave them together?

But they had spent so long apart, and the years had changed one of them severely.

"I see." He watched Vincent muse over the eye Ciel now had exposed, seeing it for the first time, and moved to the place where the lamp had crashed to the ground, feeling over the area with a foot. Once that was done, he glanced over to a chair they had shoved into the corner of the room when they couldn't think of anything else to do with it. He stepped over to the seat and invited himself to sit down upon it and listen in on the conversation, one leg crossed over the other, his bare foot hovering in the air a bit off the ground. If nothing else, if he was needed, he was already here, and the lamp hadn't seemed broken in a way that would leave pieces all over the floor. They'd already had an incident with that once and he still bore the scars from it.

Honestly, he'd hoped Undertaker would sit on the bed with them, give Ciel someone to hold onto and relax into. As much as he loved his father, the inspection of his eye is discomforting. No one got this close to it before, he didn't let them, so his shoulder hunched a little in response.

And, after that nightmare, Ciel is very aware again that Undertaker can fight against, withstand, more than Vincent could. One of them could protect him from what he was afraid of most.

"It's nothing." He insisted again, looking to Undertaker. Almost as if he was looking for support, even if a small voice in the back of his mind told him the other man would insist on sharing the truth with Vincent. And that was going to be harder than most other things he'd done.

He was receiving only deflecting responses and stony silence - almost as if he had stumbled onto a path he was not meant to find. Vincent found that terribly unfair. This was not a matter of "Ciel" coping with what was done to him or a part of him maturing into a young adult. This was dangerous and it entered a territory that made Vincent very uncomfortable.

All he knew how to do was face his problems head on. Frankly, they were wasting time in his opinion. It was a nice thought that they were safe here, but safety wouldn't last. It never could.

"I'm going to make some tea. When I come back, I want an answer." he kissed his son's forehead to soften his words before moving to the door. Somewhere in his mind, Rachel was encouraging him to keep calm and be patient. God above, he wished she were here.

This was going to end in a terrible way, what with how these two were approaching what was already out in the open. Ciel's stubbornness, Vincent's insistence. One at each end of a rope, pulling with half their might, soon to be all of it. He sighed and stood before the elder Phantomhive left the room, determined not to let it get so far.

He'd been a middle man before. He could play one again.

He seated himself on the foot of the bed as Vincent rose and held a hand out for the boy, watching him quietly. This had all been so abrupt, but it was a situation that needed to be handled delicately. Even he, in his blindness and strange ways, could see that.

The kiss to his head made him relax a little, and he watched his father leave the room while feeling at least a little guilty. If this was going to come out, he would have rather it had been some other way. He wasn't sure how, he just wanted some other way of approaching the subject of his eye and his contract.

The hand held out to him got a glance and then, slowly, Ciel shifted closer and took it. And then leaned his face against Undertaker, muffling his words.

"We're going to be up awhile, aren't we?" He couldn't imagine this going quickly. Or the bedroom being the best place for this conversation.

He made three cups of tea instead of only one. They probably all needed a small pick-me-up, though he hoped "Ciel" could, at least, get back to sleep. With his health being so poor, maybe Vincent shouldn't keep him up. But how could he not ask about what he had seen?

While the water was heating, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. His heart was racing and he felt sick. He could almost feel Rachel in his arms and -

The numerous wounds. He hadn't died without a fight and he had tried to shield her from the worst of it. He hadn't succeeded. He hadn't succeeded in protecting anyone.

If...magic...existed... If demons existed... He wasn't frightened of it or them. He would protect his son this time.

Sighing, he let the tea steep before he poured it into each cup. Then, using a tray, he made his way slowly back to the bedroom.

The boy crawled to him and he lifted both arms to greet him when Ciel pressed his face in against his night shirt, cradling the boy close without concern for what his father thought. First the nightmares, now a demand for a story that was, itself, a nightmare. He understood the needs of a father to know of the state of his child, but the lack of concern for what it meant to see behind that curtain...

It didn't help that he had grown close to the boy, against his better judgement, over the time that they had been in Riverview. The memory loss, the memories shared, the nightmares that had sent Ciel crawling into bed with him at night, desperate in a child's way for safety and comfort and security. It was hard - harder than he had ever imagined - to keep himself at arm's length, and it hadn't stayed that way. So he was a little biased on where he stood between them, wanting to help them both through this and wanting to stay out of it all the same.

He lifted a hand and scritched at Ciel's back, in the way that had become so familiar to both of them. "We will if you want to. You know I can make this all go away and put it off for another time, if you ask. But he is your father. He would need to know the truth sooner or later. What do you want to do, my lord?"

He could feel the words on his tongue just after Undertaker offered but he couldn't actually form them. It felt like the easy way out and when he thought about it, it was the easy way out. And he didn't like that. Not when it came to this, not when it came to his father. He did want to let him back in, even if it was hard.

After a bit more thought, he shook his head and let out a shaky breath. If they didn't do it now, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to face it. He'd find ways to avoid it, he knew he would, even if it risked his health a bit.

"I... need help." He mumbled before looking up at Undertaker and then back to the door as Vincent returned.

Bias was dangerous. Oh Vincent had it too. He didn't mean to be forceful - he didn't mean to be cruel - but to be awoken in the pitch black was like...

Well, it was a bit like being dead, he supposed. It was interesting when he thought of it that way and some of the tension in his chest was eased. He didn't fear dying - it was said and done as far as he was concerned - but he did fear those he loved dying. Or being hurt. Or used.

He also believed in souls and their fragility. If his son wasn't treating his as something precious, well, he had a problem with that.

But, first, tea. He entered the room, set down the tray on the bedside table and offered both of them a cup. The tea was chamomile - or a mixture of it - and he prayed it was soothing for all of them.

"No, you don't." he murmured in answer to the request - though it had obviously not been made to him, "I want you to drink your tea and relax. I'm sorry for snapping. I..." he claimed the chair Undertaker had been sitting in, wanting to give his son space if he had overstepped his boundaries, "I thought we were back in the manor. I must learn not to panic." he found a smile for them, leaning back, "Thank you for being a comfort, Undertaker. We must learn of each other again and that can't happen overnight."

He hadn't wanted to assume that tea would be made for all of them or else he would have asked for none, but it didn't surprise him with Vincent returned with not one, but three cups. Chamomile, in fact. A favorite of his, something he said nothing about as he accepted his cup with the hand he had not kept at its place on Ciel's back, nails still soothing through the boy's shirt. He knew the scent of it before the cup was even in hand.

With that tray came a change in the mood, one he was glad to see. That didn't surprise him either. Tea making, cleaning, anything of the like tended to be soothing, sometimes unexpectedly. At the very least, it had given Vincent time to think, and maybe that was just what they needed. The smile on his face, already there from a faint swell of pride in Ciel's decision, spread just a little more over his features. "Your son is my priority, milord, but we've not yet begun to address your issues." And Vincent had many, he was sure. He'd never seen the man like that before and opted to let it slide for now. "Still, I believe he wants to talk."

He glanced back down at the boy, waiting. "What will happen now?"

Ciel blinked, a little surprised at all three cups of tea, shifting so he could wrap both hands around a cup. He didn't want to spill any, especially since this was technically Undertaker's bed. It was hot, and a distraction, and he appreciated that. He didn't sip at it right away though, staring into it instead, and looking at the seal in his eye. Between the nightmare and the questions, it was hard not to think of when he'd made his deal.

"I don't know where to start..." He didn't look up from the tea, not at first. Where did one start with this kind of story? His father knew about the attack on the manor, Undertaker knew most of what happened with the cult. He'd have to explain watching his twin die, the loss of faith he'd suffered, the demon that found him...

"Should we go sit by the fireplace for this?" Somewhere they could be warm, and settle more comfortably than chairs and a bed. Although, it worked more as him trying to buy a couple minutes more.

"He is my priority too." his expression was uncharacteristically solemn, "I spoke out of worry and fear. I only realized belatedly that this must be difficult for him to relate to anyone." his gaze shifted to Ciel and he continued, voice gentle, "Start wherever you like. You needn't reveal it all tonight."

With a sip of tea to fortify him, he rose from the chair and held out a hand to his son.

"We can go wherever you like." if Ciel needed a few minutes to gather his thoughts, it was the least Vincent could give him, "I must admit...before you begin...I wondered if those who attacked us were wholly human. They moved with such speed and used such force. I hadn't a chance to reach you and your brother."

Edited 2017-11-17 08:02 (UTC)

He nodded - of course a son would be his father's priority - and looked back down to the young Earl. As much as Ciel had trained himself to be a man in their time, he still needed protecting. He still needed someone to help him through it all. "The fireplace sounds good. It's been getting colder of late and this tea is much better warm."

In truth, he had wondered himself how the assault on the Phantomhive manor had gone so well, so quickly, without even he having heard of it beforehand. That guilt still ate at him, but it was one he'd been well practiced at shoving aside. With the guilt, he shoved aside his curiosity at just who had done it. This world had ensured that for the time being, that was a mystery they could solve, and why should they when they had Ciel to look after.

And now, Ciel's story to hear.

He stood, gently pulling himself away from the boy, and offered a hand to help him stand with his tea. "Come, milord. Let's get you settled out in the living room."

Even after four years, Ciel was still no closer to finding the responsible party. If their goal had been to eradicate the Phantomhive's, to keep the Watch Dog from interfering in some scheme of theirs, they should have lashed out at Ciel by now. He'd made a name for himself, he'd solved every case the queen had given him, and yet nothing.

He held the cup carefully in one hand, reaching out and letting Undertaker help him up with the other. There was a brief glance at the eyepatch left by the pillows and decided against taking it now. It wouldn't serve any real purpose now. Undertaker knew about it, his father would know about it soon as well.

Once the three of them settled in the living room, Ciel set his cup down and pulled his knees to his chest. Almost protectively. Just as he had in the cages.

Recounting that night, that month, wouldn't be hard. He could remember it all with perfect clarity, nothing ever faded from that period of time, eve if it was sometimes hard to remember just how his parents sounded when they got a scolding, or the servants.

He waited for Ciel to rise and head to the living room before he grabbed the abandoned eyepatch. Blankets and pillows could be comforting. Toys could too. If this piece of fabric brought his son peace of mind, it should not be discarded.

Vincent pressed the eyepatch into Ciel's hand once they were in the living room, bending to kiss his temple. He loved him, no matter what, and he was ready to listen. The seat he chose was nearby, so that if he was needed - for comfort or for stability - he was ready to give both.

"Take it slow." he crossed his legs and set his teacup aside, "Both you and Ciel were taken from the manor... For some reason, those beasts needed children." he could guess at why - it was clearly engraved on his son's eye, "I'm so sorry."

While Ciel settled himself on the couch and Vincent settled near him, he put his own drink on the table and went to fetch a blanket for the boy. Something soft, something thick and comforting that he knew Ciel would appreciate. The stress of the story would have him weary before long and once he had said what he would, the warmth and softness would carry him easily into sleep, unlike the first attempt.

That retrieved, he settled in on the couch at the other end and offered the blanket to help Ciel ready himself for the terrible ride he was about to take. He thought to get a second for Vincent, but the fire place was his next stop. He could add another log to it and set it ablaze and they would be warm, the three of them, in no time.

But not now. Not yet. Now, he sat near the boy and let Ciel work out how he wanted to open this.

He forced a smile at the kiss to his temple. It was nice, it was just hard to really smile right then. Already, he could feel the weight of those events weighing on him again but the comfort and safety of their new home, having his father there, alive and well, having Undertaker close, it helped.

The blanket did too, and he didn't hesitate to wrap it around himself as an extra shield almost. He settled into it and let his muscle relax, knees lowering to just sit cross-legged on the couch.

"There's this thing called idle curiosity and it's got deep pockets." Ciel said softly, more for his father than anything. It wasn't just that they needed children, but it had paid off so well for the culprits.

"No one came for us. It was almost an hour after Gramps said he'd get us. We had fallen asleep, we didn't hear anything, and no one came. So Ciel went looking. And then I went looking." His eyes were a little distant already. "I tripped over one of the servants. He was just... leaning against a wall. All the servants were dead. The tree and the presents, everything was covered in blood.

"All the servants were dead. All of them. And then I found you and mother. And Sebastian. And there was so much blood, Sebastian wouldn't wake up. I found Gramps then but someone stabbed him and then grabbed me so I couldn't see. He lived though."

And hadn't caught sight of the responsible party either, he'd asked when he'd returned to London. And since he and Tanaka were the only ones still alive that had been there...

"When they sold us to the cultists, they talked about how rare of find it was. They paid enough to get more than two people before they took me and Ciel. I suppose... because we were twins." He reached out and picked up his tea for something to occupy his hands. And then took a slow sip.

"We were there a month. They didn't treat their lambs well. It's why I don't like being touched. I remember one of the other children in our cage died. He promised to protect me. And... then..." A pause, and 'Ciel' took a breath. "They needed a lamb to sacrifice one night. So they took Ciel. And killed him. And I...

I lost my faith. What kind of God lets that happen? Something heard me. And he came. He offered me more power than anyone else, all I had to do was make a contract with him." And there he stopped, already shaking. It had hurt. He could remember the warm and sticky feeling of blood flowing from his eye down his face. They hadn't cleaned it or bandaged it until they were well on the way to England, no one could see the demons mark. He couldn't have afforded that kind of stigma.

Earl Phantomhive did not mourn the loss of servants. They were well-aware of the risk they took in his household. Tanaka had told Ciel as much and it was true. Vincent reserved his emotions for the small gathering that he counted as true friends and family. Thus it might be a shock to some who only knew him at a distance that, as his son spoke, real tears welled in his eyes. He did nothing to halt their journey down his cheeks, either, and he soon abandoned his chair to kneel in front of his boy.

His hands were gentle as he cupped Ciel's face, his fingers smoothing over dark strands and pale, soft cheeks. It wasn't difficult for him to remember this child as a baby. He had guarded him, then, like a ferocious hound. Or so he had thought.

"I can't imagine your pain and your fear." he shook his head slowly, "I do not blame you or judge you. In your position, I would have likely done the same." for a chance to tear out his enemy's throat, "Tell me the terms of this contract? I suspect the one you refer to is...demonic? He deserves his due for accepting your brother's sacrifice."

It made him sick to think of his children being tortured and tormented! Vincent was pale and, as he moved to sit at Ciel's side, he looked worn. Worn, but determined. The Phantomhives were not defeat - only wounded.

Part of this story, he knew already. What he didn't know by now, he gave no reaction to as Ciel told his terrible tale. Wrapped in his blanket, Undertaker watched him, sitting silently beside as the night went on. The couch gave faint jerks and twitches from Ciel's trembling, but he let the boy handle himself, keeping a hand on the empty space between them if the boy needed it.

He was right there and he wasn't going anywhere. When he did move, it was only to look up as Vincent approached, taken with emotion he hadn't heard in the man ever. They wouldn't see the anger in him, the disappointment in himself at not having been able to prevent any of this. He was the Earl's informant, among his inner circle of business associates, and as far as his reach extended, even he'd known nothing until it was all far too late. In their world now, he tended the graves of those who had fallen as a result. Maybe it was meant to be that way, maybe he never was to know about it and there was nothing else he could have done but clean up the mess afterward, as he always did. But that didn't ease his own fury, kept quietly concealed under unnaturally green eyes and pale hair.

Despite the words, the gestures, the heaviness in the room, he did and said nothing, remaining only a presence in it all for the time being, ready to relay anything if needed, what of it he could.

Edited 2017-11-17 14:53 (UTC)

One hand slipped off the cup and out of the blanket as he spoke to grip Undertaker's. It helped his shaking some. And when Vincent approached, he tensed but relaxed quickly when he felt his face being cupped. He hadn't really been in this position in a long time, it was uncomfortable but also reassuring.

His father didn't judge him for his choice. If Ciel really cried anymore, this probably would have triggered some tears.

The question regarding the terms of his contract made him pause though. It was, ultimately, his choice. And he knew that but he still glanced to Undertaker. As if reassuring himself of the reapers support. And then he pursed his lips and took a deep breath. He could do that.

"Revenge. On the people responsible for our suffering. In return, he'll devour my soul."

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