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Ciel stood before a full bathtub, wrapped in only a soft white towel that she held tightly around her tense body. The demon had produced a bathroom out of thin air, along with the rest of the manor, the very night they had come back from that wretched place, and every night there had been warm water waiting for her, Sebastian standing just outside the door.
Thrice now, Ciel had unclothed herself clumsily, weak fingers fighting for purchase on the many buttons of a young lord's attire, only to leave her garments in a heap and sink bonelessly into the water, unable to muster the strength to wash herself for long minutes at a time. The demon had only fed her successfully a few times since their return, as he seemed unable to grasp what a human might expect of a meal — even less so a child that had been in turn starved and stuffed like mere poultry, whose body barely held itself together out of sheer will to live, and whose stomach turned as easily as the wind.
Ciel did not have enough strength in her arms to wash her own hair, let alone scrub the filth that she still felt covered in, underneath her many bruises and scabs.
So this time, once she was sure that the water covered her body up to her shoulders, meager a screen as it was for her nudity, she wrapped her arms around her knees and called with a voice that did not waver,
"Come. I tire of doing everything myself."
She had barely finished speaking before Sebastian entered the room. From where she was sitting, he seemed even taller than usual, and though she could read nothing on his blank and unresponsive face when he approached, she could not help but wonder what he thought of her now. Of the burning welt of a circle on her back. Of her thighs, and the place which they hid.
Ciel tracked his every move from the corner of her eyes as he removed his jacket and gloves, and neatly folded up the sleeves of his white shirt.
She had begun doubting herself.
There had been women there, of course. Disgusting, corrupted, vulgar women who had cheered and laughed and drunk wine while children's blood was spilled under their feet. But it was men's hands who held her down, men's hands on her brother's head as she watched him accross the room, a distorted mirror to her own suffering.
Inevitably, perhaps, when Sebastian's glove-less hands reached for her for the first time that night, the mere sight of them repulsed her. The bones in them, the width of his palms, the length of his fingers.
She had struck him before she knew it, and found herself huddled against the side of the bathtub.
"Do not touch me!"
"Young master?"
The demon had the gall to look perplexed, furrowing his brow in a parody of human demeanor that only pushed her further along the path to fury.
"I said get. Your. Filthy hands off me."
"I apologize if I have displeased you, but you were the one to ask me for help."
The brute truly did not seem to understand!
Her breath was coming in short painful bursts that knocked her ribcage into a frightful rhythm. Her skin, which had been pleasantly warmed by the water until that point, now felt as cold as if the winter breeze had suddenly breached the high windows. She remained there, wordless, unable to find the courage to voice her shameful fears.
Finally Sebastian's gaze came to rest on her yet undeveloped chest, which her thin arms were shakily attempting to conceal.
"Aah," he sighed. "I see."
Sebastian, uncaring beast that he was, almost sounded disappointed. It made her want to cry, and she felt all the more angry for it. But the words he next spoke were so absurd, they were enough at least to push her out of her frightened state:
"Would you rather have me be a woman?"
"Yes, obviously!" she spat out, acerbic, so furious with herself and Sebastian that she was trembling with it. "But I can hardly manage as a Lord followed around by my governess, can I?"
Sebastian looked as smug as ever when he answered, a falsely humble hand resting on his sternum,
"Forgive me, I have been unclear. I didn't mean to imply that I would appear as a woman at all times."
He left it at that, and Ciel was left to puzzle things out on her own, her mind working sluggishly through the remnants of fear that still clung to her like cobwebs.
"You…"
"I can become whatever you need of me, even a dog," Sebastian sneered, apparently unable to contain his boasting. "Though if you would be so kind as to not abuse this power…"
"Shut up," said Ciel even as she was moving closer, tired fingers gripping the gleaming edge of the tub. She felt exhausted, and the water was already starting to cool. "I have no need for a dog. Not when I have you."
Sebastian's graceful smile did not waver, but Ciel liked to imagine the demon felt even a sliver of her own humiliation.
"Though I do wonder what kind of woman a creature such as you would look like."
"If you'll allow me to demonstrate, my Lord?"
The butler seemed eager to prove himself, so Ciel curtly nodded, intensely curious in spite of herself. Though the demon had taken many forms before they drew up the contract, only a few days ago, his handsome, pointy face had remained the same. She had not imagined that it could mimick a woman if he so wished.
Now as Ciel watched, Sebastian's form slowly changed. His hair grew longer into a chignon that came to rest on his neck, his cheeks softened and his nose thinned, if only by a slight margin. A black fog engulfed his pristine butler's vest and shirt to make way for a servant's dress, pure black and high-collared, with only a trim of white at the neckline to betray its austerity. The greatest transformation, though, was that of his stature: his shoulders shrunk dramatically, his chest took on a rounder shape, and Ciel could only gape at the spitting image of a woman standing before her.
How convenient, she thought. Would that she could change her own body like this!
She fought to regain her countenance for a few seconds, closing her agape mouth and trying to look unimpressed.
That woman was unlike any governess Ciel had ever known – too beautiful, too dark – and yet did not resemble the aristocratic women she had grown up with. There was something too unrestrained and self-satisfied in her smile, and a distinct lack of skillfully measured softness around her eyes.
Not maternal in the slightest. Good, Ciel thought. She had sworn to herself never to seek such warmth from a lackey of Hell.
"Sébastienne, then," she said. "If only for a moment."
"Yes, my Lady," Sébastienne answered — and as Ciel flinched, unamused: "Ah, does this moment not include you as well? My apologies."
Loathe as she was to admit it, even Sébastienne's voice perfectly matched that of a woman. Ciel's shoulders began to uncoil as if against her will from where they had been raised almost up to her ears, and her exposed skin gradually stopped prickling under that rust-colored gaze.
She had indeed forgotten: the thing in the room with her was no more a man than she was.
"You know damn well it doesn't," Ciel said, mindless of the vulgarity. "But this form is… adequate, I suppose. You may touch me."
This time, when naked hands reached for the side of her neck — gently, yet without sentiment, as if the demon was simply trying not to crush her, as one might handle a fine china or a plucked flower — Ciel did not recoil. As fingers brushed over the line of her hair, something deep unwound, outside the reach of her own awareness, and she let her eyes fall closed for a few precious, entirely restful seconds.
However, as everything about that demon was only for show, and her incompetence shone through at every turn, Sébastienne seemed to believe it appropriate to douse her in searing hot water. And as Ciel's mood, which had only just begun to lift, soured yet again, she took vicious pleasure in admonishing her to her heart's content.
Well, Ciel thought when it was all said and done, and her hair was pleasantly clean and dry, if she can learn a thing or two, and behave more like a proper servant, this might not be so bad after all.