Hey guys!
Welcome to yet another Black Butler fic of mine! To all of you wondering if this is the 'controversial' story I was talking about, than yes, you guessed it right!
I've seen this kind of story done several times before, but I never really liked how any of them turned out. I'm not saying they were bad stories, but personally, I just didn't enjoy them, which is just my opinion. So, I wanted to do this type of story in my own way, and keep it from being yaoi, which is the controversial part about it, since all of these stories are usually portrayed as yaoi.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!
Please review and fav!
HeartElyse
XXX
TO BE A MOTHER - CHAPTER ONE
The winter's morning was that of rare fortune. It was, of course, bitterly cold and frigid, with its icy breezes and chilling frosts. But even so, it was fortunate nonetheless.
The Phantomhive Estate was the very vision of beauty, its violet roofs piled high with ivory snow and its pale brick exterior glistening with a sheen of frozen dew. The sky was heatless, yet clear all the same, blanched with the reflection of the sleet-covered grounds below, but unabashedly brilliant, its ambiance and vivaciousness matching that of a young maiden who had been asked for her hand in marriage, and had it been anyone else but the Phantomhive Earl who had been doused in its incredible beams, it would have been most rightfully admired.
But alas, it had been the Phantomhive Earl who had been doused in its incredible beams, and instead of admiring it, as many would do, he scorned it, cursing it for its harshness against his bleary, sleep-lidded eyes, for in the mornings - as it was fondly known - the Young Lord was not an agreeable boy to be handling.
It was a brutal awakening. Lights stabbed into Ciel's eyes like absurdly-hot iron pokers, which only assisted in making the incessant ache in the base of his skull all the more intolerable. Ciel recoiled from it, finding immense solace in the kind darkness of his pillow, where he hid his eyes, shielding them entirely from the unforgiving glower of the sun. However, his reprieve from the torment didn't last, for in a matter of moments, an utterance could be heard chiming just by the edge of his delicate earlobe, the tone of it as refined as white silk and as rich as warmed honey. But still, it managed to grate at Ciel's pulsing brain, regardless of how smooth it was.
"My Lord, it is time to wake up."
The boy could do nothing in response but moan, his mouth too preoccupied with the cotton balls of sleep to conceive a single word. The smooth voice from above merely purred with amusement, the octaves dipping in such a way that one could easily describe it as demeaning, much to the Earl's distaste.
"Come now, my Lord. You have quite a busy schedule ahead of you today. Surely you don't wish to be late?"
Upon the eyes of the cushion alone, Ciel scowled, justly infuriated by the obvious challenge his deceitful butler had placed upon him, aware just as equally as Sebastian that he could not refuse it, for it would be against all his customs to do so. Huffing tediously, Ciel painstakingly arose from his comforting cocoon of blankets, positioning his petite arms beneath him as he flipped himself from his stomach over to his back and hoisted himself upwards so that he was seated upon his mattress with his head resting back warily against his bed head.
Well, only to vomit as a result. The nausea had been so abrupt and evident that not even he himself had perceived its warning. Spluttering with vigour, bile spilled, gushing out from quivering lips, scolding his throat to shreds. Sick spoiled everything, cloying skin in pasty grit and soaking sheets in mustardy fluid. And Ciel could do nothing but witness himself through higher eyes, utterly mortified by the unforeseen turn of his condition, stunned so throughly by the suddenness of the change that he did not even bother to restrain himself in the least.
The butter held fast for a moment, observing the scene with an atmosphere of utter disorientation, his scarlet irises shrinking upon the whites of his narrow eyes. However, as his immediate shock depleted, the demon's features twisted into impervious indifference as he flung himself into action, materialising a small rubbish can before the boy's cupped hands, for which the child clung to eagerly, finishing his purging with a final few heaves into the bin.
Panting haggardly, Ciel reclined back against the pillows, his throbbing head careening along a path of dizziness. He was totally repulsed by his own state and did not hesitate to express so as he turned his tired bi-coloured eyes upon Sebastian, his gaze speaking his discomfort more boldly than words ever could. The butler complied immediately, scooping the feverish boy up into his slender arms and carrying him flawlessly into the adjoined bathroom.
Once within the chamber, Sebastian cautiously eased the sick-riddled child down against the tiled wall, and then directed his attention to the bath, where he turned on the faucets, allowing steaming water to flood the basin. He chose carefully the incense he would combine with the water, as he did not wish to arouse his master's nausea any further, but felt obligated to at least disguise the stench of vomit that had most certainly settled into his Lord's skin by now. Eventually, he decided upon rosewater, as it was dense in its aroma, but pleasant on the senses, and with a plain milk soap to be its counterpart, his master would not be muddled by conflicting scents. That would cause more of a headache than what was warranted.
Whirling around to his master as he waited for the water to rise, Sebastian was instantly introduced to the boy's struggles as the child strained for breath with a throat that was clearly hacked and mauled by his earlier affliction, his forehead supported by his remarkably unmarred knees as he sat hunched over himself, his hands laying palm-up on the floor beside him to prevent himself from spreading his sickness any further. Sensing his Lord's urgent need, Sebastian fetched a glass by the edge of the sink and filled it with lukewarm water before kneeling down by his master, offering it out to the boy. When the child made no inclination to respond, Sebastian patiently asserted pressure upon the boy's chin, forcing the Earl's heads from his knees and - with the rim of the glass placed intricately upon the child's blanched lips - tipped the water into the boy's mouth. His master drank earnestly, obviously despising the vulgar taste of vomit that had corrupted his tongue, for which Sebastian had to remind him to ease, fearing another bout of nausea.
"Why didn't you just tell me of your ailments, my Lord?" Sebastian inquired once the glass had been sufficiently downed.
"I-I didn't…know," Ciel defended, his voice rasping with each feeble word.
"Ah, I see," Sebastian exclaimed as he shut off the faucets and began to undress the boy, relieving him of his vomit-sodden nightshirt and tossing it aside to be laundered later. Welcoming an amiable smile to his fine lips, Sebastian did not hesitate to once again gather his frail master in his arms and escort him to the bathtub, paying no mind to the biting odour that wafted from the poorly boy. "Now, if you will, my Lord, allow me to get you cleaned up."
Hearing no cry of protest, Sebastian lowered the boy down into the basin, submerging him up to his very neck in the therapeutic-smelling water. The child visibly relaxed, the springs and knots in his shoulder blades unraveling as his limbs fell limp and his frame sagged against the porcelain palisade of the bathtub, his breathing rapidly stabilising as a result. Fetching a sponge and the milk soap, Sebastian started at the front, rubbing the foam over the boy's slight chest, up along the timid plush of his bloodless cheeks, across his short, scrawny arms, and to the very tips of his wavering fingers. The image was appalling, with unsightly sick combining with the lather, becoming a mixture of pristine white and feral grease. However, Sebastian did not even acknowledge it, for he had seen far worse.
Yet, as the butler ventured the sponge downwards to the boy's abdomen, he instantly became aware of how much it risen. The flatness of the child's stomach was a physical treasure that had always been admired, but had also been the jealously of many ladies that could only dream of achieving such perfection. However, it appeared ravished, and it slowly had been ravishing over the course of which Sebastian began noticing it - a month - but despite all the butler's prestige, he could not determine why. Nothing within the boy's diet had been changed. Nothing at all in the boy's schedule had been altered. So unless the child had been sneaking unbidden sweets - to which he'd know - than there was no rational explanation.
Ciel had become familiar with it too. But his bloated stomach had not been the only change that he'd become familiar with. Fatigue and dizziness had become correspondent in day-to-day life, as had constant headaches and mild bouts of nausea, however, never to the degree of vomiting as he had now. Also, food that he'd once adored, such as strawberries and clotted cream were now the bane of his palette, and foods that he'd just as equally hated, such as blue cheese and olive tartare had become the song of his appetite. It was all very mystifying, yet also merited his concern, for he could see no reason for these radical changes unless there was something wrong with him. But as of what, he did not know, nor did he want to. He could only hope that whatever was plaguing him would simply dissipate and leave him be in due time.
"Please close your eyes, my Lord," instructed Sebastian, to which Ciel obliged, goading his eyes softly shut in preparation for the bucketful of opaque warm water that was dunked over his head only seconds after, rinsing away the final remnants of the morning's tortures. Releasing an overwhelming sigh, Ciel raised himself from the soapy void of the bath, stationing himself upon his own shaking feet, shoving away Sebastian's offers of support, for he was feeling much better and could stand just fine on his own.
The air outside the bathtub was cold, and Ciel shivered, thankful for the fluffy ivory towel that was furled attentively around his shoulders in reply to his obvious chill. Sebastian proceeded in drying the boy, lightly dabbing the consoling fabric over the child's residue-coated skin, wiping away the last of the water that served only to mar it.
"Do you wish for me to call a doctor, Master?" Sebastian questioned as he smoothed the towel over the boy's slim feet.
"No," came his Lord's measured answer, his tone once again as steely as ever. "I will be fine now. Just get me dressed for the day. After all, my schedule is busy, as you say."
"Yes, my Lord," replied the demon, yet Sebastian could not rid himself of the insignificant foreboding that not all was as it should have been…