The rain in London wasn’t just rain—it was judgment. Cold. Steady. Unforgiving.
Seated in a polished mahogany armchair within the Queen’s private study, Earl Ciel Phantomhive stared at the velvet envelope in his gloved hand as though it had declared war on his tea.
...
It might as well have.
Across from him sat Her Majesty Queen Victoria, face unreadable, posture regal. Flanking her was the embodiment of polite menace—Princess Eloise Windsor, her daughter and Ciel’s newly declared fiancée.
...
.
.
“This is a joke,” Ciel finally said, voice clipped, precise. “A very poor one.”
“No, Earl Phantomhive,” the Queen replied coolly. “It is a political arrangement. One I expect you to honor without your usual theatrics.”
Sebastian, standing at Ciel’s right like a statue carved from shadow, offered a thin smile. “If I may, Your Majesty, I find the union…intriguing.”
Ciel didn’t glance at him. “You would.”
Eloise tilted her head, studying him like he were a curious type of vermin. “You’re shorter than I imagined.”
“I could say the same about your temper,” he replied without missing a beat.
The Queen’s sigh echoed between them. “You will be married within the month. Officially. You will be seen attending public events together. You will be charming. And you will cooperate, Ciel.”
“And if I don’t?”
Eloise answered this time. “Then I’ll kill you.”
...
She smiled sweetly. Ciel blinked once. Twice.
“Charming,” he muttered.
Later, in the Phantomhive Townhouse...
“This is absurd,” Ciel snapped, stripping off his gloves and tossing them onto the nearest chaise.
“You’ve said that three times now,” Sebastian noted. “I do wonder if repetition might change the outcome.”
“Don’t test me.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Ciel paced. “A fake engagement, fine. A political pawn, fine. But her? A woman who threatens murder in front of the Queen?”
“She seems...passionate.”
Ciel plopped down on his chair his hands on the desk.
...
“No She’s deranged.”
Sebastian smiled again, wicked and knowing. “Ah. So you like her.”
Ciel froze.
Then, slowly he sighed. “I want tea. Now.”
"Yes, My lord"
...
"Do you want sugar and milk?."
...
^^^—The Next Day – Phantomhive Manor Gates^^^
The engagement announcement had spread like wildfire. Headlines screamed:
«“ROYAL ENGAGEMENT: PHANTOMHIVE & WINDSOR!”»
^^^“Murder, Marriage, and Mystery: The Devilish Earl Tamed?”^^^
...
Elizabeth Midford arrived not long after—her boots crunching the gravel with enough force to make the footman flinch. She had a bouquet in one hand and a steel fan in the other.
...
“Congratulations,” she said, handing Ciel the flowers. “They’re funeral lilies.”
Ciel blinked. “How thoughtful.”
“your fiancée sent me a book on heartbreak.”
“She has a sense of humor.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.
“So do I. Tell her I sharpened mine.”
^^^—That Evening – Eloise’s Private Suite.^^^
Ciel didn’t knock. He walked in like the place belonged to him. It technically did.
...
Eloise was reading—feet up, boots off, dagger on the nightstand.
“You’re in my room” she said without looking up.
“You’re in my house.” He plopped down next to her.
“Semantics.” she replied flipping a page.
He paused. “Why agree to this? The engagement?”
Finally, she looked up.
“My mother thinks marrying you will protect me from the same enemies who killed your parents. I think she’s wrong. But...”
“But?”
Eloise stood. “You’re interesting. And very broken. I like puzzles.”
Ciel’s jaw tightened. “I’m not a game.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
....
...To be continued......
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