Chapter Text
Ciel Phantomhive blamed the rather dim lighting in the room for the laze in his visible eye, and although likely more prone to the strange fragrance wafting the air which he believed lulled him even further into some sort of daydream, there was some uncanny part of him which was grateful to the demon butler standing alongside him protectively, albeit unaware to the single girl sitting idly by herself at the bench in front of an old piano.
Every now and then, his ears would perk at the sound of a flat note that which came from underneath her fingertips pressing on the white keys, to maybe taunt him, or keep herself busy. She wasn’t exactly paying much attention to the two men in the room, what he could make out from where he was perched upon, her strangely bleak eyes darkly lost in the wonder of the pulling of the strings within the machinery of the large instrument. Ciel pondered about whether or not she was even competent enough to understand the threat of being left alone with two complete strangers in one of the many rooms to the large castle, as no one remained by her side—Not that he was any imminent danger, merely he worried for her headspace and the notions which passed through her mind, if she even had any.
Upon arriving, he had found himself following behind one of the many maids he couldn’t quite recall, as they were too many to name and remember individually, before ultimately being placed in a sort of sitting room to wait for the Queen herself, who he had been seeking subsequently after having received a letter sent from her hand personally, asking for his presence at her manor the second he was able to read the words off the paper. Which, eventually, resulted in his awakening at a freshly dusk five in the morning, something which he didn’t quite fancy, but, duty calls, he presumed.
He takes a look around the almost barren room, a single curtain of the two of one of the many windows in the space pulled back into a cheap knot, probably by the girl’s hand, as his gaze found itself settled back onto the sickly-looking lady. Another long sigh drawls out towards the impossibly warm room, a hand fanning away the humidity from his forehead, wishing greatly the Queen would present herself as quickly as possible, feeling some sort of irritation which he quickly reprimanded himself at.
It isn’t until about a minute or so later which he hears the faint pitter patter of quick steps entering the suffocating room which he releases a long held sigh of relief, and he ducks a respective nod towards the older woman before she takes her seat on the other couch adjacent to the one he was now sitting on, as his butler leisurely scanned the room with wine irises.
The Queen smiles, crows’ feet taking their stand at the corner of each of her graying, kind eyes, “Ciel, my dear,” there’s this warming tone to her voice which eases his heart, almost making him forget of why he’d been here in the first place, “I thank you so very much for giving me the time of day towards my imploring, my child. It is greatly appreciated.” Crossing her wrinkled hands over what appeared to be her knees hidden underneath a long, black dress, she then beckons over towards the girl who now had her gaze settled on the Royal, as she seemingly listens to some silent request only she understands—Standing to her toes, and facing both parties with exhausted eyes.
As time seemed to slow, he quickly noted; Red like the color of old wine squeezed from rich, purple grapes, her pupils moved swiftly from in between both men with no apparent emotion in them, something which he found quite odd for someone so young. Examining her further, he found the color of her hair to be quite extraordinary, much more than his initial liking, a notion which he didn’t quite like at first because he couldn’t possibly remember when he had ever found something on someone this positively attractive, in his gaze; tied into two ponytails which lazily dropped on either side of her shoulder, long and thick enough to reach the height of what seemed to be her mid-thigh. Body dressed in dark attire and, to his surprise, gauze wrapped around any part of what skin could be exposed, leaving only the flesh above her jawline naked to the world.
She doesn’t mind the much obvious staring, maybe prone to the feeling, as she slumps next to the Royal, dropping her head onto the woman’s shoulder once she’d settled comfortably on the cushions, lashes batting at him to get him to drop his gaze. Sebastian finds this to be quite amusing, sharing a knowing look with his master which prompts Ciel to shake his head, “It’s quite alright, my Queen, I wasn’t expecting your message, but tell me,” there’s some strange trance that pushes him into a haze whenever his eyes meet hers, he’s unsure of whether he likes it or not, “what is so urgent?”
A sudden loud hack interrupts his thoughts, and before he could begin to comprehend the situation, Sebastian is habitually at the younger girl’s side with a handkerchief settled onto her lips, as her stomach churned with something strange and her shoulders shivered for no apparent reason, body rattling with convulsions as more minor coughs soon settled into mere exasperated breathes once the moments dragged on, ragged sighs being the sole sound in the room until there wasn’t anything left for her to give. When she pulls the cloth away from her face, Ciel manages to see a mixture of red and flem on its fabric, but he doesn’t say anything as the butler steps away and saunters back over towards his side. Swiftly, another woman is at her side, unbeknownst to his surroundings or merely much too preoccupied with what’s occurring to the girl, twisting the cap off a glass bottle and ushering the girl to drink its contents, using the same fabric given to her to wipe away the remnants of any sickly liquids off her chin.
Swallowing the burning in her aching throat, the Queen soothed her cold chest with the palm of her hand, “As you can see, my daughter is sickly with an unknown illness—Doctors are not very confident in her survival rate, nor how long this disease will continue on until it finally consumes her whole,” she wipes away a stray tear, strange to the boy as never had he seen the Royal woman so distraught over such a matter. Frankly speaking, he wasn’t as close to the woman as he thought he was to have not even known she had a child as old as this. “Weeks, months, but never a year, is what they speak to me outside her chambers, but she understands the situation, and is mature about it. It hurts my heart to speak the words myself, but my only child will not survive long.” A napkin is pressed to her wet cheek, her daughter holding said cloth.
Ciel nods in agreement, “My apologies, your Highness, I never imagined you in a situation such as this,” he then turns to look at the girl, “I’m very sorry you have to experience this, my Lady.” Resting his hand where his heart is, he smiles kindly, in hopes of letting off he holds some sort of empathy.
Although he sure he’s experienced it all, a roll of her eyes is something he wouldn’t have imagined seeing. But, he quickly erases any remnants of his reaction and gazes back over to the grieving senior, whilst she nods. “Thank you, Ciel, you’ve always been much too kind to me,” tea is settled in the midst of the morning mourning, the rich scent of flavored milk pulling the boy to hold the cup in his hands as he decides to take a sip of its contents, “while it isn’t something I find exceptionally pleasant to accept, I understand my daughter will soon leave this world, so . . the reason as to why I’ve brought you is to send you off on vacation, with my daughter.” She finalizes with the same tone she’d begun with.
Something gets caught in the wrong pipe, and whether being his voice or the tea he was sipping contently on, he chokes a bit before coughing into an extra handkerchief given to him by his butler. “Pardon me, your highness; vacation?” Bewildered, he can’t believe the words which have left her lips.
“The matter has all been taken care of, my dear. If what those doctors have told me are true, then she has five months remaining,” her voice breaks, albeit she wishes to appear as strong as the woman she’s shown others, she silently breaks in the warmth of her daughter’s presence. “On the eve of her sixteenth birthday, my daughter will breathe her final breath. And she will be within the Heavens, resting comfortably, at peace. Before that, I wish for her to explore the world she will never get to see, I yearn she learns new things, tastes new food, smells new air, hears new instruments —It is my greatest sadness that I will never see my own daughter grow up, fall in love, and get married to the one she loves most.” Likely insinuating something unlikely, said girl clicks her tongue vexingly, sharing this look with what seemed to be her maid, the same woman who aided her beforehand.
Ciel licks his lips, as he developed a sudden case of cottonmouth, throat dry and achy, “And what is my role in all of this, may I ask?” Though he wishes to not appear as confused as he was, the wrinkle which formed in the midst of his brows betrays him.
The usual grin which meant something unpleasant takes its hold of her face, “You will act as my daughter’s aid, her protector, her guide, a friend,” she swats away any lint on the stitching of her dress, “like I stated, everything has very well been taken care of; transportation, money, place of stay, what and where.”
It seems the girl has had as much say at this as he has when said girl shoots him a look, as if saying ‘just go ahead with it’, “When . . When do we leave?,” reluctantly, he asks, twisting his ring around his thumb to calm the loud beating of his heart, “there are matters I have to attend to, your Highness, you mustn’t expect so much of me whilst I have—.” As expected, he’s silenced with this familiar look in her eyes, pinching his lips shut.
“Nonsense, child, you are relieved of your duties until further notice,” Standing from her place on the plush sofa, Ciel mimics her movements as he stands quickly, sauntering over to the short boy with a settled hand on his head of hair. “I understand you’ve never met my daughter, nor shared the same air as her enough to know her, but I ask simply that you allow her this moment of joy. Allow her to enjoy herself before she is ripped away from me, that is all I wish for her to do—See her not as the daughter of a Royal or the Princess to a land, but as an old friend.” Tears gloss the graying look in her irises, and there is a fist which tightens its hold around his heart, especially when he thinks of the simple word, ‘no,’ slipping from his lips.
Ultimately, a heaved sigh leaves him, and he nods rather reluctantly, “I understand, my Queen, I humbly accept this request. I will act as a guide to your daughter in her last moments of life.” Like a statement, the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease when she steps away and smiles as a thank you, before planting a quick kiss on the girl and swiftly exiting the room before he has the chance to recant.
Yet again, he is left alone with his thoughts, his demon butler, and a sickly girl he now has to take care of for the next five months.
In the midst of it all, he hears a tiny, woven voice speak, almost like a whisper lulling along with the heavy wind, “Amara ( Name ) Camille, but you can just call me ( Name ),” comes the silk tone, and he snaps his neck over towards the slouched girl who lazily gazes at him, “just because my mother is the Queen doesn’t mean you have to act as if you care. Don’t pity me, don’t sympathize with the pain of my condition or the manner in which I’ll be leaving this world, as I don’t frankly care about what you think—The next five months will be my exit from this body, and I merely wish to live out my dream to explore what I have yet to see,” there is a stagger to her legs when she attempts to stand, the rattling of her body obvious, prompting Ciel to take a step forward in an effort to help, but her maid is there to assist her, “my maid, Ruby, will be with us. She will make sure I am medicated throughout the whole trip, so do not worry about that. Your objective is to protect me and get me to where I want to go, so meagerly focus on that to the best of your abilities, as I sense you aren’t living up to the title of Watchdog.”
In her left hand, he notices, a cane which he hadn’t perceived earlier or merely, the maid had barely brought it along, her hindrance of a dress long and heavy behind her in ( Name )’s steed.
“When shall we leave, my Lady?”
She doesn’t stop her sauntering, “At dusk by the ‘morrow. I’ll have my things ready by then, so make sure not to be late, Ciel Phantomhive. I don’t have long left, y’know.” Whether joke or not by the nonchalant tone in her voice, he smiled, although she could not see, feeling some odd new sense for the girl he earlier thought was strange.