Elizabeth the Shinigami

Chapter 1:

Only the softest murmurs filtered through the massive church; the voices rising softly towards the high ceiling to gather among the eaves like soft, gauzy banners. Elizabeth stood at the front, and she could feel the weight of the eyes of the crowd lying upon her shoulders. Even though she had her back to the people, she knew they were all looking at her. Some were searching every inch of expensive gown, which had been made especially for this day, perhaps looking for some flaw to report. Others simply stared at her stance and the way she carried herself during such a momentous occasion, but she didn't turn around. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on Ciel's face as she stood without moving despite the weakness that caused her legs to tremble beneath her voluminous skirt.

In the past few years, he had grown much taller and his matured face was handsome. She had heard it whispered that he was even more the beautiful noble than his father, but she had never really thought to compare the two. She remembered what Ciel's parents looked to a certain degree, but when she tried to pick out which details of Ciel's appearance were that of his father, her own memory turned hazy and indistinct. Memory was certainly a fickle thing, although she didn't think it was really of much consequence.

Ciel had postponed their wedding until after his eighteenth birthday. There was no real reason for that wait, and she had heard the whispers rippling throughout society that this postponement was due to the fact he didn't want to marry her. She had ignored such rumors, feigning ignorance to even the existence of such tales, although it bothered her to still only be a fiancé when other women her age had already become wives and even mothers. It seemed now, however, that she no longer had to wait and anticipate the day.

It was December 14th and Ciel's eighteenth birthday. They were both here now, in the church in front of all the people that new them, and they were both dressed exquisitely, but nothing was as Elizabeth had planned.

This was Ciel's funeral and not their wedding.

Her dress should be of pure, untainted white with various ruffles in lace as if she was wrapped in in a gauzy cloud awaiting her ascension to marital bliss. Instead, she was clothed in plain, black melrose with crepe upon the sleeves and collar. The skirt was full but had no decoration of bead or ornaments, and the black veil of her hat only cast a dark shadow upon her view. She couldn't imagine anything more evil. Ciel had been taken away from her for a second time, but there was no chance for a miracle this time around despite her desperate prayers. Her world was drained of color until all that was left was the horrible shadows that stretched out for all of eternity. She sobbed quietly, but no tears fell from her eyes. She had cried so deeply the past couple of days, she didn't think that she would ever be able to shed another tear.

Words circled around her although the sounds held no meaning, and soon her parents were there to lead her away from the only man she could ever love. She kept her eyes locked on his body, which seemed to be drowning in a pool of lilies, as they moved away to shut the coffin and move on to the procession. As a woman, she was not expected to go to the gravesite but rather on to the manor where cakes and other desserts had been prepared, but she was going to step outside of social norms for one of the few times in her life. She was going to stay by Ciel until the very end.

The hearse was an elaborate affair all decked with gold trim and ostrich feathers, but it seemed a bit ostentatious suddenly. It was something that she had simply accepted as normal, but now it seemed a bit too grand and almost insultingly cheerful for such a morbid occasion. They should all be dressed in rags and trudging this frozen ground so they might possibly express some of the turmoil raging in their hearts. Perhaps they could do as they did in biblical times and wear a sackcloth and cover themselves with ashes, but really it would be just as much as a show as this. In truth, there was no action nor words that could even come close to expression how she truly felt as she climbed into her family's carriage for the short trip.

All too soon, the horses were guided into the cemetery, and she pulled back the black curtain just a bit. Standing by the iron fence was a tall, somewhat lanky man, and Elizabeth realized that she recognized the unusual individual. He had been the one who had acted as undertaker in the past, but no one had seen him for some time. In fact, his shop had been vacant for some years with the empty windows staring out into the street like hollow eyes. He looked at her, or at least she assumed that he was looking since she could not see his eyes through the thick fringe of silvery banes, before casually waving his hand with a smile. Anger rose within her briefly that he would dare smile, but he turned and slowly trudged away as the carriage rode past.

When they had stopped, Elizabeth leapt from the carriage, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. Her anger melted into the numbness that had infected her heart as she turned her dry face to look at the hole that would soon be her beloved's home. A few of the pallbearers had begun to giggle and jostle each other, and she realized they had been given a bit too much to drink to protect themselves from the bitter cold, but she was distraught they couldn't at least be a little more respectful. After all, there were two deaths here. One was Ciel and the other was her very heart which she had long since given him to hold.

As the gold gilded casket was removed, the first few snowflakes began to fall, and Elizabeth found it fitting. It was as if God Himself was crying frozen tears.

((x))

There were more conversations once she returned the manor, but the hushed whispers faded into nothingness when she walked into the room. All eyes were upon her once again, and Elizabeth wished that everyone would just look the other way. At one time, she could have enjoyed being the center of attention, but she would have preferred to be alone so she could roam the familiar halls like the ghost she felt she had become. Maybe she could even find some tiny piece of Ciel still lingering like a forgotten perfume.

Soon, the conversations began to start up once again and Elizabeth walked quietly to a distant corner where she hoped she would remain partially unseen.

"Miss?" a voice inquired to her right.

Turning, Elizabeth saw Mey-Rin nearby with a generous piece of cake on a delicate piece of china. Bardroy and Finnian were standing just behind the maid, and there were looks of sympathy on their faces. "Here, Miss Elizabeth," Mey-rin said, holding out the cake to her, "You didn't get any desert."

"I don't have much appetite, I'm afraid," Elizabeth replied in a soft tone.

"It's really good cake," Mey-Rin continued, "Mr. Sebastian made it before…" Her voice trailed off and she sniffed slightly as if trying to keep from crying.

"Is there any trace of Sebastian?" asked Elizabeth, "Has anyone learned anything?"

Mey-Rin shook her head wordlessly. It seemed that she was too choked on emotion to speak, so Bardroy volunteered to answer. "Not a thing," he said, "It's just like he disappeared."

"I hope something bad didn't happen to him like it did to the young master," Finnian added, as he wiped away tears.

Elizabeth nodded, and took the offered cake, which appeared to be a buttercream of some sort topped with raspberries. She had no interest in eating, but she didn't really want to continue the conversation. Although it felt like she had aged years since she had first learned the news, it had only been a few days prior that Ciel had been found in a ruined chapel on the far side of the grounds. Although cold and dead, there were no marks on his body and no clues what could have led to his death. The only oddities, other than the unexplained death itself, was that the ring with the Phantomhive crest had been missing, and Sebastian's pin, the sign of the head butler, was lying near Ciel's side. As for Sebastian, no one had seen or heard from him since he had left for an unspecified trip the day before. Elizabeth carefully took a small bite of the cake and manage to swallow it with some difficulty. Although she was sure it was sweet, it tasted bitter on her tongue.

With sad smiles, the three servants walked away as they attended to the rest of the crowd. She noted that Tanaka was not among them, but she had heard that he had not been feeling well lately. Perhaps he was lying upstairs and resting, which was probably for the best. He was a dear man, and all the tragedy he had seen had probably only aged him further.

From her spot, Elizabeth stood there with the rest of the uneaten cake and watched the other mourners. Their conversations blurred and blended into one another, but one sound soon rose above all the others. A loud ticking noise slowly climbed in volume until it was almost deafening, and she realized that it was the ornate clock standing against the far wall. Her eyes were drawn to those slender, gold hands as they moved furtively on the bone white face; tiny hands that were now cruel reminders of the all the time that lay ahead for her.

Alone.

Finally, the crowd began to scatter and Elizabeth allowed herself to be silently guided back to the carriage. It had grown bitterly cold since she had last been outside, and now a skiff of snow coated the ground. The ride home was slow for fear the horses might slip. Once they had finally arrived, she immediately retired to her room along with Paula.

"I think I'll go to bed now," she announced tonelessly.

"Already miss?" Paula asked, "It's early yet."

"I am tired," she stated, "I…I just wish to sleep now. I want to be out of these dreary clothes and lying in bed where I can imagine this is just some horrible dream." Her voice rose as she spoke as her grief twisted into something resembling anger.

"Of course," Paula said quietly. With efficiency acquired from years of practice, she swiftly removed the stiff, black dress and corset, but Lizzy still felt as if she was being constrained somehow. Soon, the offensive, mourning garb had all been removed and she found herself in a soft nightgown with matching cap. It was white, which seemed almost offensive now, with pink lace along the edges. It had been her favorite before, but now it was just a reminder of how much had changed so quickly.

Paula turned the covers back and Lizzy climbed onto the soft bed. "Good night, Lady Elizabeth," Paula said before quietly leaving the room.

Elizabeth closed her eyes as mental exhaustion soon pulled her deep beneath the waves of sleep. Just before she fell asleep, however, she couldn't help but wonder if this was what it felt like to die.

((x))

Even though she always walked with the grace of a lady, Francis still moved with a strength and determination that seemed in direct contrast with her lovely, feminine frame. It was some sort of internal strength that was hard to pinpoint but impossible to deny, and it only increased when she did have a mission in mind. Because of this, Lizzy knew that her mother meant business the moment she stepped into the room. Of course, Francis rarely saw any reason to come into Lizzy's quarters, so her appearance would have given Lizzy reason enough to suspect something important was at hand even without noting her mother's hardened stance and step.

"Paula has informed me you still insist on wearing your mourning dress," Francis said without any sort of preamble.

Lizzy looked at her more than a little surprised. She had only just awoken, so her mind was still somewhat indistinct, but this talk of her attire made little sense. In the two weeks since the funeral, Lizzy had barely left her room, but when she had she had made sure to wear one of her black dresses. "Of course," she managed, "It is only proper while I am still in mourning."

Francis' shoulders stiffened slightly. "It would be proper if you were a widow," she replied, "but you are not. You were only a fiancé and never a proper bride."

Lizzy rolled from the bed and stood before her mother in her bare feet. It still surprised her that she stood slightly taller that Francis although their features were so similar that looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. "I was Ciel's bride," she insisted, "Just because we never had the actual ceremony didn't mean I was not his wife."

"That is precisely what it means," returned Francis, "You were not his wife, but you will be a bride. It is important to put this tragic business behind us and look to the future. You now need a proper husband to protect you."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped in surprise as she realized what her mother meant. "How can you say that?" she gasped.

"Because it is the truth," returned Francis plainly. "It is your duty to marry, and so you shall be wed. We have already tarried nearly too long, so we must take care of this matter quickly."

"I will never marry!" shouted Lizzy. She had never raised her voice to her mother before, nor had she dared to utter such things, but her emotions had overwhelmed her to the point she felt she had no control over her words. "Duty be damned! Ciel was the only person I could ever love and now he's gone! I won't marry anyone else! I couldn't!"

The sound of the slap echoed throughout the room, and Lizzy felt the sting upon her cheek. She looked at her mother in something of amazement because it was only the second time Francis had ever struck her, but caught a glimpse of a rare sight of a forbidden tear glistening in her mother's eyes. Francis looked sorrowful at her actions, and stepped forward to briefly envelope her daughter in an awkward hug.

"It is as your duty as a lady," she whispered in Lizzy's ear, "We sacrifice ourselves for our roles and cast aside dreams of love for the sake of family connections." Stepping back, she looked up at her daughter and pushed aside the long blonde cowlick that was so like her own. "It is not a kind world that we live in, Lizzy." She paused suddenly, almost as if she had been on the verge of saying something else but then thought better of it.

"You will marry," Francis finally continued, "and with your connections, it will be a grand marriage. Through your own will, you can seek out your own happiness, but never forget your duty and responsibility. You will find a man to protect and care for you. Remember, Lizzy, a woman's true strength lies in her ability to do what is required of her despite anything her heart might say."

She turned and gracefully glided towards the door, only pausing as her long, elegant fingers graced the doorknob. "I know you favor pinks," she said, "but I think one of you green dresses might be best for today as those do bring out your eyes. We will be heading out soon, and it will be good people to see you out in your regular wardrobe so that they know your mourning period has passed. Paula will be in a moment to assist you. Do you understand?"

Francis didn't wait for an answer as she swiftly left the room. "Yes. I understand," Lizzy said humbly. In truth, her heart just didn't have the strength to fight her circumstances any longer. She was waiting rather submissively with Paula came into the room to help her with her wardrobe.

((x))

Marion the Earl of Fieldling had been quickly chosen as a suitable candidate for marriage, and Lizzy saw no reason to reject this suitor other than her own lack of feelings. He was a handsome enough man; tall and well-built with a thick mane of light brown hair and honey colored eyes. Although 10 years her senior, he was still far closer to her own age than many other possible suitors, and he had never before been wed. There were few outlandish tales about the man himself, and his manners were as refined as one could hope of any gentleman. He was communicative and friendly in social gatherings and never failed to pay appropriate attention to Lizzy.

But she could never love him.

Each time she was in his company, she couldn't help but compare him side by side to Ciel. Of course, Ciel was far better looking, but there was, or rather had been, so much more to him than simply his pleasing appearance. He was intelligent and quick-witted. Long ago, Lizzy had learned that he often toyed with people as he spoke, as if it was nothing more than a game. She had pretended to be ignorant and had even felt slightly sorry for his 'opponents' at times, but she never failed to admire Ciel's mastery of words and intelligence. Marion lacked this spark of higher functioning. Although not an ignorant man, it appeared he rarely had an original thought or opinion. He merely parroted popular points of view. Besides, he moved with a certain pomp that Lizzy found more befitting a rooster than a man. Ciel had been prideful, but somehow had managed to merge his pride with a certain humility. This man held up very poorly to her beloved Ciel, but it appeared she had no choice in the matter. The arrangements were already being made.

Lizzy moved in and out of each day with very little awareness. There were fittings for the dress, which she heard was beautiful, but her world had been sapped of all color and vibrancy. All around was activity and excitement, but she was slowly dying on the inside. This the first time in her life that she feared the future because was the first time it was all so very uncertain. She was determined, however, to be the good, dutiful daughter on her the path to being a proper wife that took her place in society despite how she might feel about certain things.

Two days before the wedding, Paula had suggested a shopping excursion to ease some pre-martial jitters, and Lizzy had agreed. In an odd way, it was nice to be out and away from all the noise and fuss, and the sound of the carriage wheels rattling over the streets was comforting. Lizzy even managed a smile as they moved into the center of London.

After stepping out of the carriage, Lizzy decided that she would enjoy a walk and Paula agreed to accompany her. There was still a lot of weight on her heart, but her steps began to feel lighter, and she could almost imagine herself just walking away from all this and never looking back. She had no idea where she would go, and she was rational enough to know it was nothing but a foolish daydream, but it was still so much fun to twist and turn inside her head as dreamt of impossible possibilities.

"Watch out!" someone screamed and terrified shrieks filled the air.

Lizzy was jerked from her walking dream and turned to see a horrible sight. A carriage as black as night was rattling out of control as it was being hurled along by four massive horses. Their hooves threw up sparks as if running through the streets of Hell and blood and foam caked their lips. Those horses were running themselves to death, as if being chased by some unknown evil, but anyone in their path would surely follow to the grave.

And there was a small girl ahead.

She was a tow headed child of no more than five or six, but it was obvious her twisted legs would not allow her to move out of the way in time. Surely, if someone didn't do something very soon, that child would be dead.

Even before her feet moved, Elizabeth understood she would not survive this deed, but she did not care. All of her life, she had lived for someone else. For the first 19 years, she had lived only for her family and for Ciel. If she got married, then she would live only for her husband. Her life had no meaning unless it was to benefit another, so this action only made sense. She could hear everything so vividly as if each sound was a separate instrument. Paula was screaming at her to stop. The horses' hooves were banging and clapping. The child whimpered softly and tried to move out of the way.

Lizzy only barely made it. With all of her strength, she shoved the child aside as she felt those sharp, heavy hooves tear into her flesh. Distantly, she could hear the sound of her own bones shattering inside her as the pain ripped through with indescribable agony. She was being washed in horrific pain as if tossed into an ocean of torment, and it was pulling her down with a relentless undercurrent.

All of her senses began to fail, and she knew that she was dying. Yet, as blackness overtook her sight and the sounds faded from her ears, a strange noise suddenly echoed. It was like a peculiar laugh.

Fu…Fu…Fu…