a/n: This is a short collection of drabbles featuring Noblesse/Ishtar and Demonio/Anular. These were written across a few years; they are technically standalone but can also be read as connected stories.

1. He sees her, in a dress so fine and white and foreign; it is innocence, and he is not. — Noblesse, Demonio


In the shadows of the night, he thrives.

In the light of the day, there's an inexplicable emptiness in his chest; a void once held by something now lost. A distant memory.

In the shadows of the night, he can forget; he can bury the silent nothingness beneath pools of thoughtless blood.

He is the night: quiet, cloaked in darkness, a soundless lethality (madness) curtained by pitch black.

Yet he will still fade when morning comes, his presence dispersed by those shining too brightly like the day.

The moon still high in the sky, he stands guard, rifle in hand. His eyes are trained to spot the slightest movements, and he sees—

He sees her.

His shoulders relax and he lowers his weapon.

It's Lu.

Lu, in a dress so fine and white and foreign—it is innocence, and he is not.

She is purity and sanity.

(Salvation.)

"Ciel?" she questions, her lips pressed into a thin line. She walks towards his rigid figure and he subconsciously moves a foot back. She stands before him then, one simple touch away. Her voice is quiet as she says, "Down. I want to see your face."

She's not the Lu he recognizes but she is still Lu, so he falls to one knee like a knight, allowing her to look down at him rather than up. Because he is her servant and she is his master, and how can he be the one looking down at her?

He keeps his head lowered, waiting for her next order.

"Eyes up," she commands. "I said I wanted to see your face."

Slowly, he lifts his chin and he tries not to look surprised when she takes another step towards him. He tries not to look surprised when she brushes the hair away from his face, with a tenderness so thoughtful it's almost painful. He tries not to look surprised at the way her gaze hardens when she catches sight of his one darkened eye (madness). He tries not to look surprised when she asks him in an unrecognizable, soft tone, "Do you still remember me, Ciel?"

He remembers the frail, small girl; lost and confused in the world of humans.

He remembers the petite demon with the unwavering goal of reclaiming her past life.

He remembers the Lu engulfed by her own demonic power, darkness seeping from her very aura.

He remembers his master, demanding with a touch of elegant madness (their madness).

But he doesn't remember her: delicate, poised and strong. Purity and salvation. Standing in front of him now, with a royal confidence.

"I'm sorry, Ciel." Her eyes soften at his lack of response. "How could this—I let this happen to you?"

"Lu," he voices, muffled beneath his mask. "I remember you. I won't ever forget you."

She lets out a sigh. "Of course you won't; I'd never let you.

"But I never wanted you to do this, either. I know I've been asking a lot of you, Ciel, but I never asked you for this," she tells him. "You … didn't have to."

And he wonders if he even wanted to, if he even had a choice.

But from the very start, his choice was her.

And everything was for her.

Yet the frown that's etched on her face makes him want to take it all back; makes him feel like he's committed a grave mistake.

He mutters uselessly, "It was for you."

She smiles then, a humourless thing. "I know, Ciel. Thank you."

But it's not the right kind of smile, he thinks.

"Can you stand?" she asks, her hand motioning upwards. "I want you to stand."

He blinks once before rising to his feet.

"Good," she hums in approval. "I don't really like having to look down at you like that, you know?"

He nods slowly.

"I suppose I was careless, and that may be my mistake. I didn't mean for this to happen; I want you to understand that at the very least. But there is one thing I need to ask of you, Ciel." She takes a breath and her gaze locks with his, resolute. "From now on, will you continue to be my royal strength?"

Behind her, he sees the rise of the sun. The night fades away, specks of orange dusting the sky, bringing in the break of dawn.

She's not the Lu he remembers, but she is—

"My strength will always be yours," he answers simply.

She smiles in response, and it feels right.

"Come, Ciel." She glances upwards, her eyes meeting his as she offers out her small hand. "It's time for breakfast, yes?"

"Yes," he affirms, indulging himself in the gentle touch of his master.

And he silently vows to be her knight, to the luminosity that is her day.

(Because she is salvation.)