Wherefore art thou, Ciel?

(A/N: (snickering) I couldn't help it. I was randomly thinking about my Kuro otp and how I cannot let them be happy together for some reason, and suddenly thought of Romeo and Juliet. Yeah, and this takes place somewhere between the Campania and School Arcs. For the purposes of this fic, just imagine Ciel's doing something sketchy (I can't even begin to imagine what that brat could do behind the scenes). And I needed a rival for Ciel, and Grey seems to be popular in that respect (I refuse to have that spawn Alois in a romantic story...for now). Read and review, mi chiquitas. Ohh, and I don't own Black Butler, Yana-sensei does. And this is for Valentine's day. Kinda. My actual fic will be up later… You all know how I suck now with deadlines. And yes, this is late, but I saw NOT A SINGLE CIELIZZY Valentine's fic and put this one on full speed, dammit!)

(Reuploaded, as I am apt to doing. Revised some grammar and continuity, and added a bit to subtly change the story. Have fun)

Another ball. This one a masquerade, given by Lord Ranther, holder of the Royal Warrant for silks. Usually, Lizzy loved these events, especially during the Season, when everything was more lavish and the weather was warmer (although wearing the heavy gowns was a tad torturous). Everything about the balls were her favorite; the rich decorations, brightly colored dresses, dancing with cute young boys with deep blue ey-

Never mind. She spastically touched her face, an almost fearful motion, to make sure that her delicately crafted butterfly mask rested perfectly on her nose. Lizzy could still watch others dance round the hall. Uncharacteristically, she stayed rather to the side, to deter invitations to dance, which she usually loved. She had felt somewhat quiet the whole evening, not really as jovial as the rest of the atmosphere. Summoning Paula with a gentle wave of her gloved hand, the young lady sat on an elaborate chaise, careful not to wrinkle her gown. Nina was never happy about that.

Bidden, Paula obediently deposited a gently worn novel on her lady's palms and hovered over her protectively. As soon as she felt the weight of the book in her hands, Lizzy looked about the room quickly before settling in to read. It wasn't proper of a lady to read while she was at a party, and if Frances was there, she would certainly be in for a scolding.

'Oh Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou, Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name.

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll be no longer a Capulet.'

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy…'

She loved this play, above all others. A girl who would sacrifice her family, forsake her name, and even die to be with her lover… Lizzy could definitely relate to Juliet, though she was rather stupid. If she had only told her Romeo about her plans, all would have been well. However death by stabbing oneself certainly wasn't how she was going out. Lizzy would much rather die with blades in her hands, a smile on her face and no regrets, as long as Ciel was safe.

She continued reading, completely absorbed in the tragic romance, until a pair of boots tapping near caught her attention. Looking up at the interloper to her reading, a look of mild irritation crossed her visage.

She got up, and greeted the man icily, with a short curtsy, then settling back on the chaise with not a bit of the delicacy that she was usually famed among circles for.

"Earl Grey. What a surprise to see you here. I had thought that a butl- Earl such as you had no time for paltry events such as this."

The man ahead of her smirked and batted his frosty lashes at her.

"I do occasionally have time to slum among these fools. And what of you, little butterfly?", he tapped her nose lightly, "Not practicing your fencing? I never thought that a violent girl like you could look so ladylike."

It had taken a significant amount of her training to not snatch the impudence off Grey's face with a well-placed punch to the nose.

"If it might please you, I ask your leave to continue my novel."

"How rude! I was about to ask you to dance! We both know that it's frightfully improper not to accept one, especially for a girl of your standing. I wonder how your lady mother would feel…?"

Huffing, Lizzy took the infuriating man's offered hand to stand up. As usual, that bloody man's threats were thinly veiled. He never left an opportunity to vex her, since she'd defeated him fencing so many times. It was hardly her fault that he barely knew a foil from a fork. In fact, knowing him, he may have used them interchangably. This time though, she had to wonder what his motive was. Was it his usual teasing, or something important?

As they approached the ballroom floor, scenarios whirled through her head. The song changed, slowing from a lively quadrille to a sensual, romantic waltz. She felt like retching. She loved this dance, and to have it sullied so...

'A waltz with Grey? I'd rather fight an arena of bloodthirsty bears with naught than a butter knife!'

"Milady." Grey bowed to Lizzy and offered his hand.

"Milord." Lizzy graciously took his hand, and gave it a savage squeeze. He would have a charming bruise for weeks. He gave a slight hiss, but they both turned and smiled as they whirled around the room, to the delight of the older guests, who naturally couldn't see that they were covertly trying to destroy the other's hand.

A small crowd had gathered around them, and no wonder. The two trained fighters led a dizzying dance, breaking through the traditional waltz the rest of the room cycled through. The dance was full of passion-pure hatred. After a couple rotations, Grey leaned in closer to Lizzy's ear.

"Alright, you little minx. I've no idea what the Watchdog has gone and done yet, but best watch it. The Queen has things better to do than chastise a naughty puppy."

Ah, this was it. A warning.

"Puppy? I've no recollection of anything. I've never had a pet. Maybe those long lashes of yours obscure your vision, Earl."

The violins crescendoed, and Grey dipped her dramatically, breaking the traditional steps, with a nasty look in his eyes. For a brief second, it looked as though he were ready to drop her headfirst to the floor, but he finished the move and spun her quickly into his arms, and then back the other way, at a dizzying pace. Obviously, he was trying to confuse her. Grey should have known quite well, that the Midford's were completely uninvolved in the Watchdog's affairs. Maybe he was trying to gauge her relationship with Ciel. Fat chance. He didn't tell her a damn thing about his business, no matter how she tried.

If her dance partner knew something that she didn't, that was fine with her. She had no interest in running after his carrot like an ill-bred mule.

Damn, this was a long dance. And by listening to the band, she could tell that there were still a several minutes until she could bid a joyful goodbye to the Earl. To distract herself, she silently recited a passage from her book:

'What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand?

Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end-'

Poison, was it was said, was a woman's weapon. It was interesting that The Bard had used it to kill Romeo. Or perhaps not. His rash love for Juliet had been his undoing. She surmised that the other saying was true; a woman is a man's weakness.

As the notes of the affectionate tune began to slow to a close, Lizzy's mind wandered to another dance, about a year earlier;

The Phantomhive Manor, late summer

Lizzy had just broken Ciel's ring, dashing it against the floor, and he was furious, drawing his hand as if to smack her.

Tears already running down her face, she closed her eyes and cowered, but the blow never came.

Sebastian had stopped Ciel's hand, and gently placed a cane in it.

"You nearly forgot your new walking stick, young master."

Ciel's expression quickly changed from fury to confusion to some semblance of relief. He gathered up the pieces of broken ring, and flung them out the open window.

Lizzy's horror was nearly palpable, and between sobs she managed to chastise Ciel.

"But, that ring (sniffle) was, really important, why..?"

"I don't need it. That ring belongs to 'the heir of the Phantomhive name', but I don't need a stupid hunk of metal to tell me something that I already know. I am Earl Phantomhive, ring or not."

Silence. For a few seconds, no sound could be heard except for Lizzy's sniffling. Ciel took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed her face with it.

"What's with that face? And you'd still call yourself a lady? I wouldn't want to invite a lady with a face like that to dance, would I?"

In disbelief, Lizzy looked up at him.

He offered her his hand-

"Oi, the dance is over. Did you want another, perhaps..?"

Snapped violently from her memory, she jerked backwards from Grey so quickly that she fell backwards, straight onto her behind. Which she immediately regretted, seeing the disgusting smirk on his face. Gathering the last of her dignity in her hands, she began to stand up, when she saw an unusually small hand in front of her. She doubted that the delicate palm could support even her weight without wavering, but was touched by the gesture. Failing to remember her manners, she simply took the proffered hand and stood up. And gazed into the navy-black hair of her preferred suitor. Taken aback, all she could do was step back in shock and make an odd gurgling noise in the back of her throat. This was terrible.

She looked all wrong. She was wearing heels tonight, and a gown that was much less sensible than usual. Of all of the times for Ciel to see her, it was at her tallest, oldest-looking masquerade. For the first (and God helping) last time, she rather longed for that waltz with Grey. Anything but being seen by Ciel in such an… uncute state. This was bringing back memories of the last time.

Lizzy desperately tried to block out the memory of herself in her undergarments, wielding swords and slashing at… whatever those things were. Before she went too deeply, a rather impatient squeeze of the hand revived her. She had nearly completely shut down, right in front of Ciel. Embarrassing, totally unladylike, and not cute as all.

This was officially the bloody worst ball she had ever been to. Quickly, she curtseyed to him, and turned and nearly sprinted for the powder room.

Meanwhile, Ciel was confused.

After obsessively dabbing water on her cheeks to cool them, she had composed herself enough to leave. Hopefully, Ciel hadn't noticed that it was her, with the ornate mask she had on. In her initial panic, Lizzy had forgotten that it was a masquerade. He probably didn't know that it was her. Now, all that she had to do was cross the floor and hope that nobody saw her, so she could just go ho-

"A dance, milady?"

Ciel had tapped her shoulder, and looked as businesslike as always.

"Erm, I don't really-"

"Are you trying to avoid me, Lizzy? The mask doesn't fool me, in case you thought so. I know that you love butterflies. And I'd know those golden curls from anywhere."

There was an awkward pause while she tried to puzzle out how he remembered such a middling detail. And how to escape as quickly and politely as possible, without his seeing the rush of blood to her cheeks from his comment about her hair.

"Yes, actually."

His eyes widened in surprise.

"And can I ask why?"

He sounded a little bit, hurt by her statement.

"You're just being polite. I'm tired, and want to get some beauty sleep, if it please milord. Please excuse me."

"You know, I've been trying to find you all evening. because, I had to- Do- The- Something."

Lizzy was trying very hard now not to suddenly go all 'cutesy' and hug him. He was so cute when he was all tongue-tied. Just seeing him trying so hard... Definitely made her crap evening feel… Not as crap.

She offered Ciel her gloved hand.

"Would you like to dance, Ciel? A waltz is starting."

"I-if you want to, then I'm happy to oblige, Lizzy."

As they approached the center of the hall, all eyes were on the couple. She saw Grey near the buffet table, and subtly bit her thumb at him, eliciting a scowl, which gave her a rush of satisfaction. The violins swelled, and so the couple began to step.

Awkwardly, because Ciel was a bloody terrible dancer. He stepped on her toes thrice, and spun the wrong way once. It was possibly the best dance that Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford had had in her fourteen years.

Lizzy loved these events, especially during the Season. Everything about the balls were her favorite, especially dancing with cute young boys with deep blue eyes. As the carriage trundled away into the dusky night, her half asleep brain was stuck on her (sickeningly sentimental) parting words to Ciel;

'Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet

sorrow-'

He interrupted her there, with;

'-That I shall say good night till it be morrow.'

THE END

(A/N: Was that gross enough for you? I felt like I was getting diabetes writing the last line. Anyway, Review with how terrible I am for being so late. This story was originally for HALLOWEEN. (I'm joking, I'm very sensitive-not) Hope you enjoyed my awful sense of romance. Review, Review, for writing is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say goodnight, and start writing more tomorrow)