A/N: Heh, I've a tendency to switch very quickly between my fics… At the moment, I'm that busy with preparing for an exam that I'm writing the inspiration that comes to me… I'm not slacking, per se, just writing what I can. I'm definitely returning to my two unfinished fics at the end of the next week, even if I have to force myself to write!
Anyhow, this has popped up recently in my mad inspiration-crazes. If this gets put onto the site, then it's the first of many fanfics from different fandoms that I'll have finished. (I've Oblivion and DAO ficlets that I've started but not finished.) They'll be a little out of a character at first; gradually changing towards how they normally are towards the end. This will be in three parts, each chapter showing three different lives.

The idea for the first part of this (Sebastian's past, age, status, and reason for becoming a demon) is Daphne-Angel's (Check out her fic, Lux Ex Tenebris!), I merely expanded the plot and added Ciel to it, so thank you for letting me use the idea! And, as you should guess considering this is fanfiction, I don't own Kuroshitsuji. :(

1073 B.C. Arkoi

The first time they met, both were human.

One a prince, the other a servant.

The servant swallowed thickly, standing outside one of the huge oak doors to palace he was serving in. The queen had recently found him on the streets, starving, skinny, stroppy and perfect, in her eyes, to serve the royal family. He wasn't sure why she had thought that; the woman had planted him into many different work areas to test his skills, and had instead found that he wasn't particularly talented in those areas. Thus, she had sent him to wait outside this door.

A very large, intimidating door.

The door that led to the King's personal rooms.

He folded his hands nervously, twiddling his thumbs and forcing himself to keep calm. His mother had always told him, bless her soul, that one never achieved anything in life if they waited around lazily, holding back because of nerves or allowing others to grasp the spider web that could have been theirs.

Raised voices snapped him from his thoughts and, cleverly, he moved to the left as the door flung open. Just in time, it seemed, as a young man stormed from the room and would have surely barged into him had he not moved. Two young women followed, hanging off the young man like lapdogs and wearing chitons with the same pattern as the young man's cloak. The servant gave a quiet scoff, refraining from shaking his head as the dark haired young man paused at the calling of the King.

"Do not storm out like a spoilt child on me, my son!" At the sharp voice of the King, the young man whirled around, black cloak billowing out around him as a result of the speed of his turn and the breeze that had swept through the castle.

"Father," The young man forced out bitterly, and the servant dared to look up to watch the scene unfold, "I simply-" The young man's train of thought came to an abrupt halt when startling blue eyes met dark brown ones, the reddish tint in the latter's eyes forcing the former to hold back a gasp. For a fleeting moment, time stopped completely, the presence of the two women and the King completely disappearing from their sight and thought as their unusual eyes locked, promising secrets and forbidding truth.

The servant quickly dropped his gaze, eyes fixated on the ground in fear; he knew all too well the punishment for looking one's superiors in the eyes. The young man found himself unconsciously licking his lips, head titled to the side as he studied the servant. He was slim, ridiculously so, seeming weak enough to the point where the young man seriously doubted he would be much use. His shocking blue eyes were hidden under greyish blue hair; the young man found himself surprised when the urge to gently push his hair from his eyes overcame him.

Only when the King left his quarters to see why his son had stopped mid sentence did the servant look back up again, face towards the King but eyes focused just below his chin to avoid being disrespectful. The young man snapped from his reverie, locking eyes with his father.

"Who is this?"

"Must be the boy sent up by your mother. Boy, is that why you are here?" The servant gave a quick nod, starting to sweat in his thick robes from the King's gaze.

"Why did mother send him to you?" The young man asked his father, slightly curious with a burning hope inside him that, despite him not knowing the servant's name, the servant wasn't waiting for the King for a particularly bad reason. The King looked at the servant, one of his greyed eyebrows raised as they waited for an answer.

"Well?"

"I-I have not been able to fully carry out any of the tasks that the Queen has given me. She saw fit to send me to you, your majesty, so that you might find another duty to entrust to me." At his quiet words the King gave a nod, looking over at the two women who were still latched onto the young man's arm.

"Go find the Queen. If I recall, you are her servants and not my sons." The two women gave respectful bows, eyes locking with the young mans before they left the three others standing outside the King's quarters.

"My son, you do not have a servant to tend to your needs, do you? Simple things such as washing, dressing? This boy is now given those tasks." With that the King gave a small nod before disappearing through the door to his quarters. An uneasy silence hung in the air, broken only by the young man turning to leave and beckoning the servant to follow.

"As you should know, I am the youngest of seven sons to King Alexander. If you don't know that…" He trailed off, the servant looking up quickly only to find the young prince was standing very close to him. The prince cocked his head to the side, fingers curling under the servants chin, forcing him to look up at him. The servant kept his eyes focused on the wall behind the prince, until the man clicked his tongue and the servant's eyes darted to lock with his.

"You have very startling eyes. Very curious indeed. Are you aware of this?" The servant trembled when he became backed up against a wall; he gave a nod and tried to hold back a nervous squeak.

"Y-yes, your highness."

"Good. If you will be serving me, I wish to at least know your name and age. To start, I am Prince Sebastian, seventh son to King Alexander. I am twenty two years of age." I once had a dog named Sebastian, back when dear old mother was alive… Humph.

As if reading the servant's thoughts, the prince let go of his chin, slowly taking a step back but refusing to tear his eyes away from where they were focused on the servants.

"Twenty years of age, your highness." The servant trembled, either from nerves or the hand that curled around the back of his neck, he wasn't sure.

"And your name?" Sebastian inquired, gently tugging at a lock of the servant's greyish blue hair.

"Ciel Averlain."

To say the next few months of Ciel Averlain's life were uneventful would be a massive understatement. Ciel's first impression of the Prince had been that he was spoilt, showered with riches and given any woman he wished for. Being the youngest son, Ciel had also been given the impression that Prince Sebastian was the favourite.

And although all his assumptions of the Prince had been correct, one of his assumptions had a strange side tag to it. Although the Prince was indeed given any woman he wanted –and many hung on his arms at many points during the day – the Prince's attention seemed to be drifted towards those of his gender.

To be specific, young male servants.

To be even more specific, Ciel himself.

Ciel had lost count of the amount of roses with rather descriptive notes that he had found hidden under his sheets in the servants quarters. He didn't even want to count the amount of times he had found himself pinned against walls in empty halls on hot sweltering days, more to the fact that every time he so much as thought of those incidents he blushed a pretty shade of pink.

In fact, Ciel believed that the only reason the Prince hadn't kissed or claimed him yet was because he was waiting for a time when Ciel wouldn't expect it. Nightly, he would receive orders to go to the Prince's chambers where he would spend hours in conversation with the prince, the only light in the room being that of the moon shining in through the windows. Ciel suspected that the Prince was watching as Ciel became more comfortable with the nightly talks before making his move.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the palace, and even Ciel and Prince Sebastian themselves, they had grown to fall in love over the last few months. But rumours circulate from anything, and the rumours to be spread from a servant's nightly visit to the Prince were ones that made Ciel blush right up to the tips of his ears.

However, after finding yet two more roses hidden under his sheets, one black and one red instead of the usual deep purple, Ciel had found himself standing outside the door to the Prince's quarters, nervously wringing his hands in front of him and tugging at bandages on his left hand. The black and the red rose had meant something, it had to have done, and although Ciel didn't particularly mind the thought of what could lay ahead, he dreaded the reaction if anyone found out. The punishment for sleeping with someone of his gender was life imprisonment if with a commoner. He didn't even want to think of the punishment for sleeping with a Prince.

The door opened a crack, a dark brown orb looking out into the hallway to see a nervous Ciel standing there. There was an unconscious breath of relief from both sides of the door before it opened wide enough for Ciel to silently slip through. Once through, Ciel gave a sharp intake of breath; the entire room was illuminated from the moon – not a single corner of the room was darkened – and the place gave off an eerie glow. Ciel turned, catching Sebastian's eyes that were tinted their unusual red in the moonlight.

For one quiet, endless second, neither of them moved, breaths hitched in the back of their throats. Both hoped for the same outcome of the night, and in that endless second hesitation was erased and doubts pushed to the back of their minds.

The next second found Ciel pushed down on the bed, red hot lips tracing a searing path down his neck as long hands pulled at his clothes. His own hands were pulling at the ties on the back of Sebastian's nightclothes; he secretly thanked the King for making him Sebastian's personal servant, else he wouldn't have been able to pull those clothes off quite so quickly.

A second later they sprung apart, scrambling for something to cover themselves with when the doors burst open, a dozen of the King's guard storming into the room. Both Ciel and Sebastian were quickly grabbed roughly, both being forced to face the door as the King walked through.

Neither of them could even open their mouths to speak; there was no doubt about what they were about to do.

"Check their breaths." At the King's words, a guard stepped in front of Ciel and ordered him to breathe out through his mouth. Ciel did so, and the guard shook his head, moving to Sebastian. The guard took an abrupt step back when Sebastian in turn spat in his face.

"No scent of alcohol on their breaths, your Majesty."

"Sebastian, my son, why would you –" The King, who had started to move towards Sebastian, was cut off by Ciel.

"It was my fault, your Majesty. I seduced the Prince, knowing all too well that he would be powerless to resist when he was half-asleep." Ciel hung his head as he spoke, not daring to look up at any of them. One of the guards holding him gave him a hard strike across the face, splitting the servant's lip. King Alexander looked down at him, knowing he was lying but puzzled as to why he was doing so. A quick look at his son's horrified face confirmed that Ciel was lying.

"I know my son too well to believe that he did not know what he was doing. In fact, Ciel Averlain, I feel that you were seduced." The king took a few slow steps across the room, and Ciel dared a look over to Sebastian. He was struggling against the two guards, although he was looking directly at Ciel with a look that resembled disbelief. King Alexander hovered by the door, giving one look of utter disgust to his son before looking at the guards.

"Hang the servant. Publicly stone the Prince."

Both lives were ended at three pm the next afternoon, one privately and one by the hands of the very people who had loved him for his twenty-two years of life. Ciel had accepted his fate, allowing his soul to be set into the cycle of rebirth. Sebastian –having been filled with rage and anger at the unfairness of his father- had been given a choice. Let his own soul be reborn in the natural cycle, or become a demon.

He chose the latter. A reaper had fought viciously to reclaim his soul before it made the full change, only to fail.

The two would part ways… for now.

"Have you heard the tale of Tithonus?"

"No, your highness."

"Look at me when you speak. It is said that he was a lover of Eos, who kidnapped him from the house of Troy. She asked the gods to grant him immortality… Surely you have heard of this tale?"

"I'm afraid not, your highness. I was raised in Byzantium… Although still Greek, I was not told these tales by my mother… Was this Tithonus granted immortality?"

"Immortality, yes. But Eos had not asked for eternal youth. He grew old, weary, but never died. I bring this up because I have a question for you. Eternal life, growing old but never dying, or a shortened life followed by a slow and painful death?"

"Your highness?"

"Answer the question, Ciel."

"I would have to say a short life followed with a painful death. What use would it be, to live a long life and watch everyone around you die?"

"Interesting answer… Would it change if we were caught in the middle of my claiming you?" Ciel blushed pink at his words.

It was a shade Sebastian would not forget so easily.

330 A.D. Constantinople

The second time they met, one was a demon, the other still human. One was Emperor Constantine's personal adviser, the other an ordered thief.

"Get me something from in there. I don't care what, boy, just something."

The words had been direct enough, and the young boy had spent long enough scaling the walls of the new Emperor's palace whilst dodging guards. He'd gotten into the palace in perfect time, had run through basements and secret corridors in order to find something worth stealing, and had stumbled upon crates of typical Roman glass. Typical, but worth hundreds to those out of the Roman Empire. All of them sparkled from the light of the dim candles in the room, spelling out riches to come for anyone who could own them. Only one would fit inside the sling he had turned into a pack, but one was enough to get him through the next year safely. Enough to feed him, clothe him, make him seem smart enough for a working job that paid.

He hadn't even gotten to the stairs when he was caught.

"The thief has no doubt stumbled upon my crate of glass vases. Catch him for me."

The demon had given only a short nod before he had left, faster than the guards in the room could blink, down to the basements in order to catch the thief. How he despised living through his 'life' on contracts, taking souls that he could only help mould before snatching. He claimed to not know why he chose to live like this instead of just eating souls as he pleased, but deep down he knew the real reason; taking souls via contract allowed him to hold onto the last sparks of humanity that resided in him, even if that humanity was only the form of a human.

Briefly, his thoughts flickered to a face that he hadn't seen for over seven hundred years. He'd heard of soul reincarnation, but decades of searching had made him give up the small echoes of hope he had harboured. Now, he couldn't care less; the servant had been in his life, not his hell.

He moved quickly, slinking into the basement with the shadows hiding him, stepping out only when the thief made to move out through the staircase he had came in from. The thief made a quick turn, thinking he hadn't been spotted, and in turn was roughly picked up by the demon.

"Now, what would someone like you be doing in a place like this? You don't seem to be wearing the proper attire for a guard of the basements… so you must be a thief." A statement, not a question. Not that the thief would have been able to answer, as the demon's grip had tightened the more he had struggled to break free, and he was being squeezed to the point where it was difficult to talk. The demon pulled the cloth hood from his head, taking notice not of the thief's unusual grey hair with blue streaks, but of the piece of cloth that was banded around his head. It was a special kind of cloth, used in blindfolds for older human's who had trouble with the sun being too bright or people with defects concerning their eyes. It acted like a blindfold, the eyes unable to be seen through the cloth, but was unusual in the sense that the wearer could still see. Everything would simply be dimmed.

"An unusual blindfold you are wearing. Certainly not something a thief would be able to afford, else you wouldn't have been stealing." The demon pulled at the ties, holding the thief with one arm and taking the blindfold off. He then took the glass vase from the sling, throwing it towards a crate with such accuracy that it landed standing up, not a single crack forming from the impact.

In retrospect, what he saw next wasn't what had slackened his grip. No, the flash of blue eyes reflecting in the glass from where the thief was glaring at it didn't make him loosen his hold, although was certainly a contributor. Nor was it the sharp backwards kick to his groin from the struggling thief – that wouldn't have been able to make so much as blink.

"Put me down, Sebastian!"

That was what had made him slacken his grip on the young man. The thief fell from the hold, smacking hard on the floor and letting out a cry of frustration before he froze where he was stood, staring up at his captor. It seemed that the only reason he wasn't running as fast as he could out of the palace was because he was confused by his outburst.

"What did you just call me?" The question wasn't supposed to sound menacing, but to a thief who had just been caught by the emperor's personal advisor red-handed, the question hadn't seemed fairly nice either. The fact that the demon's red eyes were flashing dangerously didn't seem to help much.

"I simply shouted 'put me down.' Nothing more." The demon might have believed him had he not been wringing his hands nervously. That brought back memories that he had long since forgotten, and coupled with the familiar shocking blue of the thief's eyes, the demon felt bare threads of emotion that he had once thought himself incapable of.

"How old are you?" The thief blanched at the question, clearly thinking the advisor either insane for asking such a question, or believing he was up to something with all the questions.

"Eighteen years of age…" He spoke out slowly, carefully. The demon ignored the fact that the thief was slowly edging away across the floor.

"What's your name?"

"Ciel…"

"No last name?"

"When the city was taken over and unified into Constantinople, my parents refused to change their last names… They were killed long ago, so I have no last name that I can remember." The thief moved to stand up and run, but the demon's hand on the scruff of the clothing on his neck pulled him back.

"Not so fast. Why were you stealing?" The demon asked, running a hand through his black hair. He had retained his memories from his former life, and had chosen his human form to be no different to what it had been when he was alive. Whether Ciel had his memories was unclear, although the demon could count on those staying the same, for now at least.

"Why do you think I was stealing? I'm not sure how intelligent you are, but even a three year old child would know it's because I have no choice." At his words, the demon gave a scoff, letting go of Ciel's clothing and pushing him towards a door.

"If that was the case, you would be long dead. You always have another route, another path to take. If you had only one choice, you would have been killed long ago. Only by luck have you managed to stay aloft as a thief for so long. Take your glass vase, Ciel Averlain, but don't let me catch you as a thief again."

Ciel frowned at the demon, thinking his words over in his head before a gasp escaped his lips. He had not given the demon a last name, but the full name from his former life sparked a memory inside him. But as the demon had said, he had two choices. Choosing to flee rather than stay and question, Ciel took his blindfold from the floor, snagged a vase from the crate and fled. Out into the night, only eighteen years into his second life and having already been found by the demon at the one point where he had stopped searching.

Seven years later, when Emperor Constantine had died and his soul claimed by Sebastian, the demon searched again. He found only a soulless corpse in Athens that had died from starvation, clutching at a single shard of Roman glass.

"Do you believe in Demon's, my Prince?"

"What an odd question… Yes, I do."

"What makes you believe in them?"

A silence. The servant wondered if he had perhaps struck a nerve.

1073 A.D. India

The third time they met, one was drowning.

In all honesty, the demon should have expected something like this to happen. At just over a thousand years old, they had first met in 1073 B.C, what on earth made him think that they wouldn't meet in the same year on the A.D side?

But in retrospect, he should've really stopped him from getting onto the boat he'd just sabotaged for his Lady. He had face palmed when he had saw the flash of distinctive greyish blue on the sinking wooden boat, the realisation hitting him with something similar to a tinge of annoyance.

This could only ever happen to him.

He'd waited for his Lady to turn her head away to her husband before he moved. The woman didn't even notice that he was gone by the time he was at the edge of the lake, unaffected by the roasting sun as he quickly made to act.

The first thing he noticed, once he had dragged Ciel from the water, was how much lighter the man felt in his arms. The first and second time he had seen this particular soul in this body, the boy had been much… healthier. Even when a lowly thief stealing from an emperor's palace, he had been heavier to lift. The demon shook his head, dismissing the thought to the fact that he had just carried him through water, dragging the man to the side of the beach.

"I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't seen you? Have I inavertedly killed you in another life, too?" The Ciel that was now laying on the sandy shore next to him coughed and spluttered, choking out water through his lips.

"I would imagine that I would be dead, had you not seen me. But then again, had you not sabotaged my boat, I would be in much more pleasant situation, wouldn't you agree?" Ciel snapped, spitting and wincing as his lungs attempted to cough out the remaining water that lingered. For the first time in a very long time, the demon was at a loss for words. It seemed to be something that this soul had the unique ability to do.

"Your boat? Of course, C. Funtom." That realisation dawned on him quite quickly. The realisation that was soon to dawn didn't, however.

"Nothing seems to get past you, does it?" The Ciel before him pulled at his hair, twisting it to get rid of the water and frowning when it frizzed up.

"Were you the only one on that boat?" At the Demon's words, Ciel raised a finger to his cheek in mock thought, giving a sarcastic sigh.

"I should hope I was, or else you've just let someone else die." He brushed himself off; giving a hiss of disdain at the sand that was sticking to his Indian robes.

"I just saved your life, young man." The demon pointed out calmly in a matter-of-fact tone.

"If you hadn't sabotaged my boat in the first place, you wouldn't have needed to save me!" Ciel's tone matched his as he crossed his arms.

"How old are you?"

"I expect you to- sorry? You just tried to kill me, and you don't even know who I am?" Ciel looked positively livid, his blue eyes glinting dangerously in the sunlight.

"No. How old are you?" The demon pressed on.

"If it keeps you quiet, I'll tell you. I'm seventeen; if you make any smart comments on how a man my age shouldn't be able to start a company at seventeen, I will gut you after I get you arrested for attempted murder."

"You are starting a company…?" The simple fact stated by Ciel set the demon to remember his orders from the young, blonde woman who was his Lady.

"It's only something minor, demon. But I want him dead. My husband is the direct competitor for the trade link to Rome, and although the route is minor, money is money. When he dies, you may take my soul."

The demon frowned, feeling the sign of his Faustian contract on his hand tingle at the remembrance of her words. Shaking his head, he looked down at Ciel, feeling oddly regretful at what he was about to do.

"What, pray tell, are you doing?" Ciel half yelled when the demon roughly picked him up by the back of his clothing.

"Dreadfully sorry about this." The sarcasm was dripping from the demon's words, lacing the tones of his voice thickly. Ciel narrowed his eyebrows. He gave a sigh, not struggling against the demon's grasp.

"It's that Raesu girl, isn't it? I knew it." Ciel shook his head, clenching his fists and glancing up to the demon.

"I am not contracted to give out my Lady's name when prompted, however I will make an exception. Yes, it is Raesu who wants you dead."

A sigh.

"Do what you must." The demon took him round to the corner of an abandoned building, feeling elated and yet disappointed. He was elated, as once the boy was dead, he could eat the soul of the girl who contracted him. He was disappointed because, although he hadn't planned on seeing Ciel again through another rebirth, he had found him and then was forced to kill him.

He used a stake, made from pulling a pillar of wood from the building. It seemed fitting, in an odd way. As the wooden stake was pushed through the ribcage of the slightly struggling Ciel, the boy gave an eerie grin to the demon. The words that left his lips almost made the demon drop him in surprise.

"I guess I'll see you again, Sebastian."

"What makes me believe in Demon's, you ask? Ten years ago, when I was a boy of twelve, my father took me down to one of the slums for a royal visit. There had been an accident there; many lives had been lost, and he went to pay his respects. I went into the building where they were housing the sick. There, a woman had been gravely injured in the accident, her husband killed and her infant dying in her arms. Beside her stood a man, too pale to be of this country with a predatory look in his eyes, like a lion watching his dying prey eagerly. Everyone was rushing around so busily that no one noticed him. But the woman, she gave her infant a kiss on his young forehead, set him down on the bedroll next to her and nodded to the man stood next to her. I left soon after, but when I snuck down the next day, the woman had died and the man disappeared."

"How did that make you believe in demons, my prince? Surely an encounter seeming so innocent couldn't have made you believe in demons?"

"I remember thinking 'how could a God allow two innocent people like that mother and her child, to be injured so gravely in an accident?' And as I thought that, I remembered the colour of that mans eyes."

"What colour?"

"Red."