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We have no need for the past. We only need the present and the future. Something once lost can never return.
Even after so many years, trauma haunted Ciel often— waking and un-waking alike. This time was no different. It wouldn’t be a proper nightmare ‘without a slow bleed from bliss to horror,’ according to Sebastian. It was only what Ciel expected after having made such a harrowing pact for his soul.
The Phantomhive manor, in all its Victorian glory, stood before him. Ciel’s childhood home — fit quite suitably for a family who ruled the underground crime business. It was a mostly secluded mansion, and on the outside it seemed to be void of danger. To everyone outside of London’s underworld, the Phantomhives were a picture-perfect family of local nobles.
The joyous scene was set as it always was.
Vincent and Rachael Phantomhive. Father. Mother. Their dark black and blonde hair tousled by the wind on a beautiful summer day. In their lush-green grass covered courtyard, Vincent and Rachael walked hand-in-hand, sharing polite conversation.
Their hushed tones concealed a darker intent from their young son.
Two small voices chirped in the background, oblivious of the machinations unfolding around them.
A young Ciel Phantomhive furrowed his brow, disappointed in the find of yet another weed in a four-leaf clover patch. He would rid all these four-leaf clovers of their imminent death by weed. With a new determination filling his bright blue eyes, Ciel turned his attention back to finding the pesky life-drainers-of-clovers.
“Ciel!” A voice that was both shrill and bell-like at the same time caught his attention. His betrothed. ‘The Lovely Elizabeth,’ as his parents referred to her. Ciel kept his attention on the clover patch, looking up to notice Elizabeth bounding towards him.
“What are you doing, Ciel? Can I join you?”
Plopping down in the grass beside him, Elizabeth looked at Ciel with an admiring smile. Ciel picked up one of the few clovers he’d found, clutching it in his hand and playfully hiding it behind his back.
“Of course you can.. If you can catch me, that is!”
Leaping up as quickly as Elizabeth had plopped down, Ciel sprinted towards the most open part of their yard, where his Mother and Father were conversing. A bright smile spread across the young boy’s face and the sun beamed on his face. The sun felt so warm. Comforting, almost. Elizabeth sprinted to keep up with him, making a poor effort of keeping her new pink silk gown from getting grass strains.
“Ciel! I just want a cloveeeeer!” Hearing this, Ciel abruptly stopped in his sprinting antics. His Mother’s advice echoed through his mind. ‘Treat your Lady with the upmost respect. Shower her with gifts. Make her smile.’ He looked down at his clasped hand that still held the clover. Ciel cast a spirited look back towards Elizabeth.
“Oh! Well, why didn’t you just ask?” Recalling his latest etiquette session, Ciel bent over in a clumsy bow, holding out the hand with the now-crumpled clover.
“For you, ‘The Lovely Elizabeth.’”
Hearing their young son’s show of manners, Rachael Phantomhive turned around to watch the pure scene unfold. Rachael’s bright blue eyes gleamed with pride for her darling Ciel. He’s growing up so quickly. She wondered how long it would be until Ciel would be old enough to understand the reality of the Phantomhive business. Rachael wanted her darling Ciel to experience as much of a “normal” childhood as he possibly could. A happy one, void of the imminent danger they were subject to. Ciel didn’t need to know- he was only a child, after all.
Ciel cast a shy glance up at his parents, wanting to confirm they were seeing this show of etiquette. At first, he noticed only his Mother was truly paying attention. His Father seemed distracted by something. Looping an arm in her husband’s forearm, she whispered into his ear, drawing the attention back to their son.
When his Father turned around, Ciel noticed something out of the ordinary. He sensed a coldness and a worry that he’d never seen in his Father before. Father was the strongest, most wonderful person he knew. He watched his Father’s golden-hued eyes, yearning for a look of approval. After a few moments, he watched the expression melt into that comforting look he was used to.
Elizabeth skipped towards Ciel, her laughter ringing like a familiar melody.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Anticipating what was coming next, Ciel quickly stood as he heard Elizabeth approaching. Overwhelmed with joy, Elizabeth crashed into Ciel with a huge hug. He returned it, a beaming smile remaining on his lips. Breaking away, Ciel offered the now-crumpled clover to Elizabeth shyly before meeting his parents’ gaze.
“Ciel, darling..”
His mother’s eyes flashed with a warning that had not been there a moment ago.
His father’s gaze flickered to the crumpled clover in the boy’s small hand, filling with a sudden sense of urgency.
The clover in his hand burst into flame.
“..You mustn’t play with fire.”
They spoke in a bone-chilling, haunting unison.
Elizabeth reached out towards the clover in his hand, seeming to be completely oblivious. What was she doing? Did she not realize how dangerous reaching out toward him was?
Staring at the singular flame in his hand, he could feel the comforting heat of the sun begin to fade away. The flame slowly trickled across his palm. He watched helplessly. He couldn’t move. All he could do was watch the flame.
“What a lovely clover!” The girl's laughter now sent a chill of foreboding down his spine. With the flame close to licking her palm, her face was illuminated grotesquely by the harsh light.
Ciel wanted to warn her—wanted to tell her to run away as fast as she could. But he couldn’t manage to get the words out. As her fingers touched the fiery clover, the flame immediately ignited her palm. He watched in horror as the flame trickled up her pink-silk sleeve. There was nothing he could do.
The all-too familiar feeling of helplessness began to tighten his airways.
“Stop! Elizabeth! Can’t you see you’re burning?!”
The flame traveled up Elizabeth’s shoulder— to her torso. The flame remained steady in Ciel’s hand as he stood frozen. The laughing continued— the flame continued its travel— to her head— and down all the way until the flame had surrounded her entire body.
“Stop it! Stop! Lizzy!”
The air continued to get thicker and thicker as the flame intensified.
The grass beneath Elizabeth’s feet caught fire and began to spread rapidly. The sun’s light faded almost instantly. Within a millisecond, the once lush-green courtyard became Ciel’s own personal hell.
The smoke from the fire began to fill Ciel’s lungs, causing a violent cough to begin to shake his frail body.
And then, the worst of it all.
The field in front of him melted into the manor’s study. The fire roared with more and more intensity. The flames grew higher. Higher. Higher. The world around the young child became nothing but kindling destruction. Elizabeth was now frozen in time, the flames eating up her small frame.
Ciel’s gaze flashed back to his parents. A rattling scream— cut off from lack of air— escaped the young boy’s lips.
No matter how many times he had this nightmare, there was no way to prepare himself for this grisly sight.
Mother’s once-vibrant blue eye stared back at him numbly.
Father’s piercing, golden eye was void of any comfort it used to bring.
The crude stitches were offset by the meticulous manner in which their faces were joined.
No, no, no.
The ones he loved most dearly. The ones he looked up to for any semblance of hope and guidance. Just a moment ago, he watched their smiling faces. Now, their bodies were stitched together— their faces drooping. Their bodies were slowly being eaten up by the flames right in front of him.
Void of any life. Numb. Dead.
This can’t be happening.
Ciel could no longer find enough air to scream out. The coughs got more and more vicious. The wall of searing heat closed in around him. Ciel shut his eyes tightly, hoping - praying for some sort of release. The fire screamed in his ear. Taunting him. Taunting his agonizing existence.
Reluctantly, Ciel opened his eyes to find he was now confined in a cage. Hardly fit for an animal, much less the guard dog he was presumed to be. It felt as though his chest was caving in, his lungs no longer filling to capacity. All around him were corpses. Familiar faces. His victims.
He felt so small, so frail and helpless compared to the bodies piled up.
A young boy with blonde hair and unfeeling icy blue eyes— A young brunette girl with freckles and a scarred eye— A man with red hair, his arm amputated beside him— A black-haired woman with crimson eyes full of agony— They were piled everywhere. Filling the cage entirely.
They’re all just lying there, glaring at me.
How can they glare if they’re dead?
Ciel could only gasp for air at this point. His mind was racing, torturing him with every moment he remained in this hell. The mouths of the dead opened in unison, their cursed voices echoing in his mind.
You killed us, Ciel.
Are you happy now?
Smile, it was all a lie?
A trembling hand clutched at his chest.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
Ciel began to lose oxygen all together. The world pulsed like a dying heartbeat. The brand at his midsection throbbed along with the fading world, intensifying the pain. Blood rushed in his ears, his own heartbeat accelerating clearly. Too bloody clearly. Now his own heartbeat seemed to be taunting him. The noise got louder and louder— the world darker and colder— the coughs rattling his body— now producing blood.
A warmth spread from his eye, blood trailing down from a new wound – a wound he had begged for. The pain was familiar, and strangely comforting.
The comfort was fleeting.
A cold hand grasped his shoulder, tugging him to the place he so feared.
With a final gasp, his eyes flew open.
He’d fallen asleep in his study, still sitting up in his chair. Of course.
Although it had only been a dream, his lungs still felt compressed. He couldn’t even escape the nightmare in real life, could he?
He knew it all too well—an asthma attack. He could feel the bone-chilling breeze originating from the open window behind him. A highly probable trigger.
Ciel absolutely despised how out-of-control these asthma attacks made him feel. His problems were his responsibility only. But these health issues were an entirely different matter. Not only were people in London’s underworld out to kill him, but ironically so was his own body.
The horrific sights he’d just witnessed were more vivid than usual. It didn’t help his already failing health conditions. His heart was racing as he sucked in as much air as possible. It wasn’t much at all.
He was relieved that no one else was in the room. He needed a moment alone. He dreaded anything seeing him in such a weak, helpless state. He just needed a moment alone. To try and forget the images that had burned into his mind so vividly—just a moment.
The horrifying images were too clear for him to think rationally.
Whoever pronounced that sleep was a blissful escape from reality is a bloody liar.
“I apologize for the intrusion, my young lord.”
Why the hell was Sebastian here?
He hadn’t ordered his assistance.
“I heard a struggle. I came to see if you required any assistance.”
“I..don’t need.. any damn.... assist..ance!” Ciel’s words were broken up in violent coughs. His own words felt as if they were threatening to choke him.
“I beg to differ. You are only human, after all.” He could practically hear the smirk in Sebastian’s voice.
Sebastian wheeled in a serving cart, a kettle of steaming tea waiting on a platter. Ciel wanted to throw the heavy paperweight in front of him right at his imbecile of a butler. Perhaps that would get the point across.
Suddenly, the frustration melded into panic as his lungs began to fail him.
I can’t breathe.
I --
can't --
breathe --
He instinctually clutched his chest, just as he had in his nightmare. A prisoner to his own mind, he seemed to be watching himself struggle from the outside as the world began to darken around him. His chest burned. Hyperventilation.
He felt himself falling — where, he didn’t know, he no longer had the energy to care. It could be hell - he didn’t give a damn. He just wanted the crushing pain to stop.
Before he allowed himself to succumb to the swirling oblivion, a pair of strong hands gripped him by the shoulders, forcing him upright.
“My lord.” Ciel vaguely heard his butler’s voice over his own gasps. With great effort, he raised his eyes to meet the deep red of Sebastian’s. All of the spiteful teasing was gone from his face, replaced with a quiet concern that Ciel didn’t often see. A cup was pushed into his trembling hands, grounding him for a moment.
“Please. Drink this.”
With Sebastian’s help, the cup was raised to his lips, the hot liquid trailing down his burning throat.
There was no doubt it was some sort of medicinal tea, with hints of Earl Grey and mint oil. The tea’s taste was comforting. A different sort of comfort than the fleeting moment he had experienced in his nightmare.
The coughs slowly began to subside—Slowly, but surely. The gasps for air evolved into wheezing, but that meant the worst of the asthma attack was over.
Ciel was now painfully aware of his butler’s cold grip on his shoulders. A sudden chill ran through him as he remembered the cruel grip of his attackers from the nightmare and that cursed night. Suddenly the very thought of another being laying their hands on him made his skin burn. Especially since it was a demon’s touch.
“Don’t— touch me! Don’t touch me!” The urgency of his words surprised him. His own voice sounded much younger all of the sudden.
He felt just as frail and helpless as he was in that damned cage. The desolation once again invaded his mind.
“I mean it. Don’t touch me.”
“My lord?” Confusion clouded his features. Ciel was aware he was being unreasonable – but at the moment he didn’t care.
“Just get out. Before I throw this damned paper weight at you.”
“Of course, master. I’ll leave the kettle.”
And with that, the young noble was left alone with his own thoughts. He had supposed that when he was alone, the voices that whispered in his mind would quiet, but what was currently happening was quite the opposite. He shut his eyes tight, steadying his breathing.
Ciel lifted the delicate china to his lips, in an attempt to redirect his thoughts. Still, the solitude only seemed to intensify how truly alone and helpless he was feeling. The steaming heat of the tea contrasted greatly with the bristling cold wind coming from the open window behind him.
He couldn’t believe that something as mundane as the wind had caused so much tribulation. He hated that something so trivial could put him in a state such as this. Like he was a worthless child again— begging for the agony to stop.
With impatience furrowing his brow, Ciel walked briskly to his perpetrator.
He muttered numerous curses under his breath, letting his anger manifest.
“Damn you.. DAMN YOU FOR DOING THIS TO ME!”
With all his might— which wasn’t much at this point— he slammed the window shut.
The tea cup shook on the nearby table.
Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion begin to wash over him. He paced back to his chair lethargically, letting the numbness envelop his thoughts.
Before anything else plagued his mind— there was suddenly a soft knock on the door.
“Ciel? Is everything alright?”
A shrill yet also bell-like voice. He knew exactly who it was.
And he wasn’t happy about it.
Not now.
“Yes. I’m fine.” He tried to hide any trace of emotion in his voice, taking another sip of scalding tea.
A moment of silence from the girl on the other side. Ciel prayed she didn’t pry further. No such luck, as he heard her continue from beyond the door.
“I saw Sebastian come in, but he left so quickly. And that never happens. And then I heard you yell a word that a lady should not repeat.” She took a pause.
“..I wanted to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”
Ciel let out an exasperated sigh, sinking further into his chair.
Why can’t I have just one bloody moment alone?
A few more moments of silence passed. But he knew well enough that Elizabeth was not one to practice much patience.
He gritted his teeth in mild annoyance. “...Fine,” he managed begrudgingly.
The knob began to turn, and he stiffened but stayed still, as he had long ago lost the energy or desire to intervene. Apparently, Sebastian had left it unlocked. Of course.
She stepped into the room, light on her feet as usual. Her face was full of worry; she had never been good at concealing her emotions. It was obvious she knew something had gone on, but he was not going to give her anything that would confirm the suspicions that were plain on her face.
“What is it you want, Elizabeth?” For the lady’s sake, he fought to keep the exasperation out of his tone. It proved more difficult than usual.
Her eyes were on her feet, her mouth opened and closed several times. After a moment, her brilliant blue eyes met his. Something in her gaze shifted, as if she had noticed something he had failed to conceal.
“I wanted to ask... you’re certain you’re alright?”
He now found it near impossible to keep the annoyance off his face.
This is ridiculous.
“That’s all you came all the way up here to say?”
She was quiet a moment longer, studying him. She was much smarter than he sometimes gave her credit for, he gave her that.
“No, of course not...” She managed a sheepish smile. “I... I was wondering if you could teach me how to play chess.”
“Chess? Why do you want to learn to play chess of all things?”
“It’s a game I know you truly enjoy. Don’t you?”
Ciel took a moment to think about his response. What was she playing at here?
“..I suppose so.”
Her face brightened and she gave one of her patented squeals. “Then you’ll teach me, won’t you? Please say you will, Ciel!”
He couldn’t say no to that. His countless years of etiquette had taught him this. Out of habit from these years, his mouth moved before he could stop it.
“Of course, if the Lady desires it.”
Ciel stood from his seat— and the blood rushed to his head, blotting his vision with inky black dots. He cursed himself internally for not considering that after that attack he needed to move with more caution. He didn’t need to pass out on top of everything else. A slightly trembling hand steadied himself on the desk. A moment passed. Ciel kept his gaze on the table below him, his ears ringing.
Another few moments passed. And then—
“..Ciel, could you escort me?” Her voice was soft— careful, almost.
Ciel nodded, focusing his slightly disoriented gaze back on Elizabeth.
Regaining some of his bearings, he felt Elizabeth’s arm loop with his own. Though they moved slowly, it seemed like no time at all before they made it out of the room and began their way down the stairs.
The chess room was all the way across the manor, but Ciel was grateful to be up and not trapped in that damn chair anymore. Instead, he was now with his betrothed— the one constant person in his life since childhood.
Elizabeth was the one person he wanted to protect from all harm— though he hated to admit that out loud. He could only imagine that was the reason why Elizabeth was constantly in his dreams— and why he was always so desperately wanting to save her.
Just as Sebastian was his sword and shield, Ciel felt it was his duty to be Elizabeth’s.
She was the clover, he realized with a start - as delicate and fresh as the tiny sprout from the dream. He vowed he would do everything in his power to keep her from being crushed, from being choked out by the weeds he found himself ensnared in. He would protect her from the fires that constantly swirled in the dark places of his mind.