Black Swan Rising - A Black Butler Fan-Fic

4 - Fit for a Young King

I hummed a little tune as I swept. Another lulling task. I actually really enjoyed my time at the manor. Work was simple, chores were reasonable and life was, for the most part, slow.

However, as every human being does, I hardly had the motivation to perform chores that didn't provide a challenge. Once I was in the process and fully committed to the task, I was content.

A deep voice, a stern command, a gentle sigh. I listened to them with reverence. Turning, I saw him.

"He's in a pretty foul mood today, isn't he?" Bard asked, leaning on the counter beside me.

I nodded, turning back to the pile of dirt and crumbs that were on the floor. "Yes," I replied, hearing his footsteps. "The dark crow flies again."

Bard pushed off the counter and took to cleaning and looking like he was doing chores. I felt my body go rigid when that pitch black butler passed by without a second glance. He was content with our work, content with our positions. He was probably just happy we weren't destroying anything.

The ringing of the bell summoned Sebastian away. He left the kitchen, and the four of us sighed with relief.

"Sebastian really is somethin' today, isn't he?" Finny said, walking over to me and leaning against my side. I turned to the younger boy and held him close.

"Don't let it worry you," I told him, petting his hair lightly. "He's probably just stressed. I heard the young lord was getting fitted for new outfits today."

Bard and Mey-Rin shuddered at the thought. I wasn't too fond of the thought either, but I didn't have much of a choice in the matter of who fitted the young lord for his clothes. He received the best of everything, and Nina Hopkins fit that description.

Unfortunately.

"I'd be stressin' over that too," Bard grumbled, leaning on the counter, cigarette bouncing. "I don't blame him."

"Me either..." Mey-Rin whimpered, shrinking a bit. "I'll just hide until she's gone, yes I will..."

I smiled faintly, still cradling Finny in my arms. "I would be glad to take your place," I told her. "You don't need that stress."

I saw her visually melt with relief. Her gratitude was thanks enough.

The door opened, and the four of us began working again. I tensed when Sebastian stopped beside me.

"He only wants sweets," he complained, looking through a cookbook to find a recipe healthy enough for the young lord but still full of sweets to satisfy his craving. He flipped throughly idly and settled on baked apples with drizzled melted caramel sauce. "He'll have to settle with fruit as well," he decided, setting the book down.

I glanced at the recipe and raised an eyebrow. "Should he really be eating sweets before a fitting?"

"I tried to tell him otherwise, but he insisted that he was positively famished."

I paused to think for a moment, shrugging. "Honestly, he could use the extra pounds. He's looked a little peevish," I mumbled, turning around to gather an apple. "How about an orange as well. The two fruits fit with this in between season. He enjoys orange slices, doesn't he?"

"And a bit of yogurt," Sebastian added. "Will you—"

I tossed the orange to him and set the dish for the yogurt down on the counter. He caught the orange effortlessly without even having to turn around.

"You're welcome," I mumbled as I walked past him to retrieve a baking pan. I could feel his eyes on me, and I knew he was thoroughly annoyed. I pulled the pan out and began to boil water in a pot. As I was starting the fire for the stove, my match flame flared and burnt the small stick to cinders. I gasped, releasing it and watching as the flaming match caught for the stovetop and gently rose the temperature of the water. I frowned, looking at Sebastian.