Written for Vincent's birthday on June 12th (2017). The title is explained at the end. No need for warning except that it might be a bit depressing. :))
DISCLAIMER: all characters that you can recognize in this short story are the property of Yana Toboso, the author of Kuroshitsuji.
Triskaidekaphobia
The boy is two weeks early, or so she tells him afterwards. Actually he is eleven days early, according to what he remembers the doctor said months ago, but he supposes that rectifying this is useless. It is not like he is supposed to keep up with the details of Lady Phantomhive's pregnancy. To do so would imply improper… conclusions, even if she is alone in her chambers right now.
"Are you… fine?"
Lady Claudia rolls her eyes upon hearing this, a gesture that she mastered long ago as she found it was the easiest way to convey her annoyance to many ridiculous questions."I gave birth a few hours ago, do you really need me to describe you how tired I feel? I know men are not likely to ever experiment giving birth to a whole human being, but coming from you, it is rather surprising that you even asked."
Oh. Well, cranky she is, not that she does not have a good reason to be. As she said, only women are privy to the mysteries of nativity and he does not want to particularly bother her on such a day. Or on any day whatsoever when she does not rise to the bait. Changing tactics, he asks, "How is the boy then?"
Lying comfortably against her pillows, Lady Phantomhive deigns smiling at his question this time, but it is a smile that surprises him because he has never seen it before. It seems softer, as if she lost her edge with her usual sharpness. Fair enough though, he can understand that the birth of her son, her heir, would probably change a few things within her but the boy is only a few hours old, to his dismay. Nativity really is privy to women, no, mothers, only…
"The midwives say that he seems to be a strong infant, they are not particularly worried."
He smiles a little smile of his own at this, for she seems content and proud of her son already, even if all he does is breathing, but he knows that even she cannot hide her own little worry. Infants are weak after all, and she would be none but a fool if she were to believe that her son did not have his own battle to fight, even at the dawn of his life. And Lady Claudia Phantomhive is not a fool, otherwise he knows he would not have fallen so deeply in love with her. Speaking of love…
"And where might Earl Phantomhive be, when his dear wife is giving birth to his son? I might have arrived unannounced and unseen -by the way, your servants are still terrible at catching sight of me- but I have yet to catch any glances of him."
"Oh, please shush," she half laughs mockingly, her eyes betraying how tired she feels, "why would you care to ask after my husband? You never care about anything that concerns him."
"I do not most of the time indeed, but I like to think that I do not misjudge him and I always imagined that he would want to be here to witness the birth of his first child."
"Our first child, please. The boy is my heir first and foremost and besides, he was early. My husband will be back from Germany in two days."
"That will certainly be a big surprise for your husband."
"Well, as much as it was to me when I realized that the little fellow wanted to join this world a little earlier than expected."
He has to pause in their friendly banter at this. Earlier than expected, that is indeed the case. He might not be a woman but he knows enough to understand that children are the ones to choose their birth date, so proposing to the Lady that she should have maybe tried refraining her son's precocious envy to discover the world would have been a little too bold, even for him.
Still, that bothers him, if just because the boy, all innocent and unaware of things as he is with only a few hours to his life, really did not choose the best date to join the strange world that he is bound to inherit one day, when... He shudders at the thought and stops himself from letting his mind wander too far. One never knew what to expect on such a day, so better not to trigger any unwanted consequences. Lady Claudia just gave birth after all, so she, like her son, is not safe yet. Especially on such a day.
"Are you alright? You seem concerned and that is quite the rare sight with you."
Ah, of course she would notice. They know each other quite well after all, enough so that she would not mind whenever he is jealous of her husband, gently or mockingly chiding him even, whenever he is too possessive of her or despising of the man sharing her surname. Most of the time it is when he simply cannot help himself though, but after all the man, her husband, is so dull.
He is appreciative of many humans really, but the dull kind is just the worst, especially when one of them is married and sleeping with the beautiful, clever, bitter and mocking Lady that he loves.
Shaking off the eerie thoughts with a shrug, he says, "I was just wondering inwardly… I suppose that naming the boy will have to wait until after your husband is back?"
Claudia raises her eyebrows at that and he knows he failed at diverting her attention from what is actually bothering him. They know each other too well, after all. "I was not aware that you cared so much about my son's name, considering that you are always trying to conceal yours." Taking his hand in hers, she stares in a way that is uniquely hers even though her eyes are way less impressive than his and even though his barely see anything anymore. "So, why not tell me what really seems to be the matter?"
He audibly sighs at that, more because he does not want to bother her rather than because she is too skilled at reading through him, and her grip on his hand tightens in response. However it is not a comforting gesture but a warning not to lie. Lady Phantomhive might have been fond of him as she would say sometimes, but her patience was not legendary and he cannot expect her to try better when she just gave birth. Besides, truth always suits him the best, as she liked to say.
"Your son is born on a Friday the thirteenth and I am… less than fond of that fact."
Fortunately she does not laugh but blinks in surprise a few times when she understands. He cannot blame her for not realizing sooner, all a busy day that it was for her, especially when he is rather sure that she would not have found any significance to the date, had she noticed in the first place.
Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, a gesture akin to others clearing their throat to dismiss a small moment of discomfort, she speaks with a soft voice: "Now that is unexpected. I would have never taken you for a superstitious man when you are busy with corpses all day long. Should I be scared if you are?"
Heh. It is because he knows her that he can understand that she is not mocking him, not in the slightest, although the chances of her being scared at this instant are probably rather low. But even if she had mocked him, he would not have cared, for, as much as he loves her, some secrets are his burden and his only; things that he convinced himself that she would not be able to understand.
…Unless it is him simply being scared that their relationship just would not be the same anymore, were she to know.
No matter, in this instant the burden is heavier to carry than ever since the day he fell in love with her because, really, how to explain to a mortal Lady who just gave birth to her long-awaited heir that superstition is an easy thing to succumb to, once one experienced the consequences of giving up on their own life? After all, suicide is a prohibited sacrilege as it always was religiously described, just like the superstitious story fueling the distrust for days like this one on which she just gave birth to her precious son and heir.
"Cedric?"
There it is again, the impatient tone in her voice. He has to smile at this -was she just never tired enough to let go?- and his heart feels a little lighter. Sometimes he feels so old when she seems so young, but he should learn to treasure occasions like this one more, especially when her husband is miles away from her and none of her servants is bothering them at the moment.
Getting up from the side of the bed where he was sitting on until now but not letting go of her hand, he leans a little to lay a kiss on her forehead. "Pardon me, my Lady. I shan't bother you with superstition on a day like this one. You deserve to rest."
She swats him away as one would a fly. "And I do not believe that I deserve to be lied at, especially on such a day."
Sitting down by her side again, he smiles as she squints. He dislikes lying as much as she does, but really, there is no good in telling her now. He already knows that she is fighting everyday against her own family curse, fierce and combative always, so now it is his turn to be as brave as her and swallow down every worry that he cannot add to her already too heavy burden. If the boy was born strong, surely he would remain so his whole life.
"It is nothing, my love," he lulls her as he kisses her forehead once more, "just outdated old wives' tales, unfit even as a mere distraction."
She swats him again, but less energetically than the first time and he has to retract his thought about her never succumbing to tiredness. "Since you do not want to tell me about you surprisingly being superstitious, will finding my son a strong and suitable name be enough to reassure you about the date of his birth?"
At this, he has to chuckle. "With your husband's tastes, I have to admit that I am afraid of how it will turn out."
"What are you even saying? My husband has good tastes, he married me."
"I know. I envy him every day."
"Oh, do shut up. And come closer."
That he can comply with. Still holding her hand, he moves over and settles next to her against her pillows, while she allows her head to rest on his shoulder for a few minutes. That is when he knows that something bothers her, as she rarely is this affectionate, and he loathes himself to think that it might be his fault.
"I wonder… what kind of mother I will be."
"Surely a lovely one." He fears his answer might be too automatic for her taste, but his own parents are too far away in his memories to really think about anything else to say.
"Stop joking. My own mother… was not a particularly decent role model, as you might remember."
Oh, right. The previous Lady Phantomhive did not make for a good maternal figure indeed. Despising her only daughter for being her husband's heir because she could not give birth to a living son had driven her mad over the years and she had passed away just before her daughter's wedding. He holds her tighter upon remembering, as he knows she always considered it yet another proof that her family blood got cursed long ago.
…Unless it is to ignore the nagging feeling that the boy's life might not be as happy as it could be because he chose to come to life on such an unlucky day.
Still, even with every curse displaying their shadow over them, they stay together like this for a long time, him holding her, her head on his shoulder as she slowly seems to fall asleep and her husband still miles away but every second closer to coming home, to her and their new born son.
It is only later, when she seems to be sound asleep, that he leaves her side. Walking silently in the corridors of her manor and making sure that he could not be seen by any mortal eyes, he heads towards the nursery, a little away from her chambers down the hallway. Inside, the boy is sleeping just like his mother, Claudia's aging wet nurse reading a book and keeping watch in an armchair next to the crib.
Reassured that the infant seems to be fine, he leaves the room to go back to Lady Phantomhive's bedroom, leaning again to say his farewells and laying the ghost of a kiss on her lips. "With you as his mother, the boy is sure to grow healthy, clever and prideful. But I will watch over him if I have to, for you my love, and you will see that everything will turn out to be fine."
Yes, because even a death God blinded by love has the right to be optimistic sometimes.
Lady Claudia Phantomhive dies on a July the thirteenth, one of these wretched Fridays that he fears and loathes so much, his dead heart torn open in pieces, just like the rest of her. It has been long since her husband died too, which makes her son and his sister cursed orphans on this wretched day, the boy unable to cry because hatred is all he can feel while the girl cannot stop because of her sorrow.
The funerals, though organized by him as it always was his job, happen in a blur as he watches so many people he never met before crying over the loss of a woman that they thought they knew. His thoughts are pitch black as he stares at her coffin, so many joyful memories that he cannot even remember anymore, because even though his eyes are dead, the thought of her mutilated body is something that he cannot unsee.
He always made for a harsh believer, he thinks, and he is paying expensively for it once more.
Time it took the most of me
And left me with no key
To unlock the chest of remedy.
Mother, the pain ain't hurting me
But the love that I feel
When you hold me near
…Gave up on his life and became a slave to make up for this sacrilege.
The hopes were high
The choirs were vast
Now my dreams are left to live through you
Red Sun rising
Drown without inhaling
Within, the dark holds hard
…Made light of a curse and it destroyed everything he held dear.
Passion tide
An angel by my side
But no Christ to end this war
To deliver my soul from the sword
Hope has shown me a scenery
Paradise poetry
With first snow I'll be gone.
What a pity, now it is all over, he thinks as he crosses eyes with the future Earl Phantomhive.
The hopes were high
The choirs were vast
Now my dreams are left to live through you
…Or is it…? The boy would inherit his mother's title soon and surely the curse that goes along with it. An ally would probably be useful.
Red Sun rising
Drown without inhaling
Within, the dark holds hard
Red Sun rising
Curtain falling
Higher than hope my cure lies
"Hello." The boy in front of him smiles a few months later in his shop, offering his hand to shake. "I believe we have met before."
He is not his mother but…
I promised, he realizes. Long ago, I did.
He smiles for the first time since the funerals as he takes the hand that the young Earl is extending.
In the end, nothing is ever acquired for good in life. Or death, for that matter.
Thank you for reading!
1) Triskaidekaphobia is the fear of 13 and also commonly used to describe one's fear of Fridays the 13th, although other names for this phobia are Paraskevidekatriaphobia and Friggatriskaidekaphobia
2) I found the title nice because Vincent was canonically born on one and his mom, Claudia, died on one (ch103) so… poor UT… T_T
3) The lyrics at the end are from Higher than Hope by Nightwish, I always found that it was fitting for UT's conflicted history with the Phantomhive family.
4) A little comment for improvement if you can is always nice! ^^