I own nothing. All rights go to Yana.

And for those few who might be wondering, this series will have nothing to do with The Book of Damnation. It's completely separate.

Other WARNINGS: Manga canon-divergence, clear mature content, dark themes. You know, the usual stuff with all my Kuro. fics.

Careful the wish you make,

Wishes are children.

Careful the path they take

Wishes come true,

Not free

.

— Into the Woods

I

When she cancels everything else away in her mind, and forgets she's almost eighteen now, and the rest of it all narrows down to one mere thought, Elizabeth knows one thing for sure.

She has one final decision to make before it's too late.

Just as a tree can grow from a seed, countless rings of complications can spread from that one action in time.

She doesn't even tell her mother or her father she plans on going into hiding. They're too known, too involved. Clearly they hold the potential of becoming laughingstocks of the Noble community if she doesn't chance it and leap one step ahead of everyone else, and does it soon.

She settles on useful isolation. Pure solitude is what she needs right now. Privacy is key...

Summoning up the nerve to show up at Edward's chamber door this early is tricky. She knocks three steady times, letting him know it's only her.

The handle clicks sharply in the shadowy silence surrounding her, but Edward is quieter still, and he doesn't utter a further sound as he peers at her through the crack.

"I need your help," she says. "Please, brother. Forgive me. Help me."

She half-expects him to turn her away and scold her for waking him like this. After all, the usual trust between them really hasn't felt the same lately; it's been torn at the edges ever since that morning when he found her heaving over the toilet and she had begged him not to tell Ciel about it. Edward cannot stand secrets, big dark secrets, the kind that make people act totally unlike themselves. Secrets like that one she has been holding in for the last month.

Though, luckily, for some glorious reason he seems to be more in a more placid mood right now. "What for?"

"House Briar."

Edward blinks, then nods once in understanding, and he makes a fair effort to get dressed straightway for travel.

The two of them slip down to the stables afterwards. Edward fastens the saddle buckles tightly onto his bronze coated horse, then turns back around to lead their other prancing stallion out by the spare pair of reins. Her usual horse is white and speckled with grey. Edwards fits the bit into the stallion's mouth and pats his neck, eyeing her sternly. "Are you certain you can sit in a horse in your condition?"

Elizabeth just gathers up her underskirts, lifting her left leg up before Edward offers her helpful push. "Yes, Edward, I'll be fine."

"Briar's an hour ride from here at least, if not more through this fog."

"Then, please, let's leave swiftly before the stable boys come and see us sneaking out. We're practically stealing father's horses like this."

Edward doesn't delay.

The countryside stretching out ahead of them is beautiful as it always is, the hills are emerald green and plentiful. Yet the trees are filled with fog like Edward said they'd be and the songbirds are not to be heard so far. The only sound they can hear is simply horse hooves tapping against rock.

Edward eventually kicks forward and levels his horse with hers after they cross over the third farm bridge, turning north. "How long will you seal yourself away from the public, sis?"

"As long as I must," Elizabeth muses. But she catches him shaking his head at the thought. "Edward," she then states more earnestly in response, "either way...I've would've been able stay. How could I?"

"Though what if Ciel—"

Elizabeth won't have any of that. She cuts him off instantly to remind him, "Ciel is no longer my priority! And I am not his. He married Sieglinde. That is it, it's done. It was the Queen's order to withdraw our prior engagement. It's not in my power to change her mind about it now. So please, brother...say no more about it. I need to make my peace with that and find something more than Ciel and Sieglinde to focus on."

Edward gulps down his riling bitterness and Elizabeth can still feel his glare simmering through her skin, his eyes lowering down to her waistline.

"Well, dear sister...once we get to House Briar, you will."

"Yes, I suppose I will, won't I?"

"...Have any names in mind?"

Elizabeth sighs. "No, not yet."

Sieglinde becomes distracted by the wheels of Sebastian's approaching trolley, thus the book she holds open in her lap is briefly forgotten. She flutters her long dark lashes up at him. "Hello, Sebastian."

He bowed his head in greeting. "Countess Phantomhive, would you like a cup of tea?"

"Is having a cup of tea a gesture of lustful seduction here?"

The butler bats his own eyes down at her once, feeling irked beneath the surface, but he forces out a tight smile in its place. "Not at all, Countess Phantomhive. It's a simple offering."

Mollified, Sieglinde sets her book aside upon the table afterwards. "Oh. Well, alright. I want a lot of sugar too, Sebastian."

"Of course."

She watches his gloved hands work with the fancy utensils sprawled before him for a few long moments until she decides to test what he truly knows about public affairs. "Say, Sebastian..."

He glances at her from the side, regarding her curious expression. "Yes, Countess?"

"I heard something today...," she presses on carefully, "...when I went to that women's meeting."

"Oh?"

"You see...Lady Elizabeth was not there, which is odd for her I gathered. She hasn't been seen in quite some time actually and her mother's not so eager to discuss it either, which is even odder to the rest of the women. And now there are rumors however that claim Elizabeth is...ah, in simplest terms...public exile. She's being avoided. And these women seem to suspect that the feeling might be mutual."

"Mutual?"

"Yes, that's right. They are under the impression that Elizabeth is keeping her distance from all of us on purpose, as if she's hiding something." She persists. "It's silly, isn't it? And quite sad. Poor Elizabeth. She's not like that. She's one of the sweetest girl I've ever known, and I've only met her twice."

Sebastian hands her the polished teacup filled with the perfected dark surgery drink that tastes like liquid candy rather than real tea, then he straightens out his waistcoat, looking towards the open windowpane with subtle suspicions of his own. "Yes...how quite."

Francis tries to conceal her own worry over the matter; it's what she does best anyhow. She has lost several close family members throughout her lifetime; her brother, her mother, her sister-in-law, her beloved grandparents, and eventually those losses have only made her smarter, stronger. For the sake of who she has left to care for in this world, she does not herself fall to pieces. But...when she lost Elizabeth by choice and not by death, it had put a fresh dent in her pride, because what sort of decent mother would want to wake one morning unaware to discover that her youngest offspring (and her only daughter) has ran off alone, and now, she refuses to let herself be caught.

Edward at least, is in the know about Elizabeth's secretive plans, and Francis does find some comfort in that. Edward is an impeccable older brother and he devotedly protects Elizabeth even when she might not need it. He's a true Lord Knight through and through. Although, it's been a few weeks now without a single clue to help them understand more about what has happened to her, and Springtide is almost over. Francis grows restless under her bones and finally, she demands her son to explain.

After that day, he arrives back home at a very late hour during the night and tells her Elizabeth has sent word at her request, in a letter, carried by Edward's hand only. They go into the study together and lock the twin oak doors behind them.

In the letter, her daughter describes how distance is her last strand of hope now. It's the only safe-shield she has left. Francis breaths softly in relief, sinking down into her armchair behind the desk.

Elizabeth's alive, and she's still in the country, surviving day to day as much as she needs to. Good, good, all of that is very good news. But, Francis cannot help wondering why House Briar?

That old far-off mansion planted along the forest's edge hasn't been touched by mankind in God knows how long. Perhaps a decade, perhaps two decades, or three. As far as she can recall from her own childhood, that marble-pillared building was overgrowing with vines and moss since then, and the tree roots were starting to coil underneath the floorboards. Weeds and burrs grew through the cracks in the walls.

Francis may apprehend how Elizabeth came to the conclusion that privacy is key, and House Briar is ignored and secluded...and she may not even favor Elizabeth leaving home without telling her and Alexis first...nevertheless, she still tries to ration out how is House Briar is the better place for raising a new generation of Midfords opposed to here, under the security of their own family roof?

Edward is second-guessing this whole arrangement again, just like his father and mother have been doing too on the sidelines. As a man, he knows Elizabeth will be stubborn as women all are really, and she won't leave House Briar so easily now that she's making it her own nesting lair. Her new home. But as her brother, he just cannot eat away his own fears for her, devour them down and say they're gone forever.

They'll always come back to haunt him sooner or later.

Elizabeth's still wading through the crumbling rubble of her broken dreams and loyalty to Queen Victoria since the enforced marriage of Ceil and Lady Sieglinde suddenly took place instead.

No matter what Elizabeth tells her brother though, Edward comes riding out to House Briar quite frequently yet; nearly every two days or so. He brings Paula back with him one night and he instructs her to remain silent about Elizabeth's whereabouts for now, and just be there to help Elizabeth with whatever she needs. Nothing more, nothing less.

The three of them end up having dinner together seven times a week.

Paula has so many questions about Elizabeth however, and she supposes that when this is all over it won't be such a bad thing after all, right? Hopefully in the next elven months or so, Lady Elizabeth can return to the heart of English Society and everything will feel normal again. And as these open fantasies keep falling out of her naïve mouth over tonight's meal, both Elizabeth and Edward start to notice that Paula may just become their weakest link.

"Milady," she tuts again in Elizabeth's direction, "Master Phantomhive certainty can't treat you any differently! His duty to you won't be tainted by his marriage! You are family after all, and that's—"

"No!" Edward snaps at her, almost roaring out the word. Elizabeth flinches in her seat and her fingers instinctively tightened around the silver spoon she's holding. She doesn't look up at him, or Paula. She just waits. "Everything has changed, Paula! Elizabeth can't have that life anymore. She has accepted that, and I have too with her help, and now you must accept it. This right here, is real, it's going to happen. And we can't afford to waste time building our future on false hopes."

"I—I—ah—my apologies, sir, I meant no offense. I just thought—"

"He's right, Paula," Elizabeth adds on finally. Her voice is hard and soft at once. "We need to play it smart, and we need to be prepared for this in every single way we possibly can. Right here, this is what you should see. This is what you need open your eyes to. Don't delusion yourself to anything more."

Paula has suddenly stopped breathing. It takes her a shaky moment to realize this and she blink her eyes, inhaling sharply. "Alr-right. I understand."

"Thank you." Edward tells her, calming himself. He shifts back against his wooden chair that tends to creak under his masculine figure.

Paula bows her head back down over her half-eaten plate. "Although, if...I may still speak, sir...you ought to consider your sister's health during the days to come. I'm trained somewhat as a midwife's assistant, but she'll need a proper medic during the birth."

"Edward's looking for the right one." Elizabeth reassures her instantly; her coolness melting away into a pool of pity for Paula's confusion. "As I said, we need to be prepared. And we will be."

"And...what about your parents, you two?" Paula tries her luck again, risking becoming the victim to the Midford tempter again within that same thread of conversation. "They need to be prepared too."

Elizabeth is obligated to confess that, "We...still aren't telling them all of the real specifics yet. Just where I've been staying, and that I'm unexpectedly with child."

"It's a bit unsafe to tell them anything else than that," Edward explains moreover. "They can't become a scandal either. Not while they're right under the Queen's nose."

Paula gasps loudly at Edward's remark. "Oh, surely the Queen's not so heartless as to shun your father and mother. She's not to blame for this."

Edward shakes his head and sighs deeply. "The Queen did her part, Paula, and she knows it. Trust me. She knew withdrawing Elizabeth's previous engagement would hurt our family in some way or another. But that's just politics."

Elizabeth stays awake in her new bedchambers, feeling lonely and guilty, also drained by the physical swelling of her belly.

At times like these, she still has a hard believing that this is where her life has led to. She rings her hands together in a dazed contemplation.

Maybe it immediately started when Queen Victoria had changed her civil strategies, to keep her enemies guessing, and thus, her loyal Watch Dog was left with but one choice. For the sake of maintaining appearances, his duty, and conquering those enemies, he needed to obey, and Sieglinde became more valuable piece for them to maneuverer.

But, perhaps, Elizabeth's fate really began to unravel right when the Ciel had ordered his pitch-black butler to ride out in his place and give her that Royal Letter of Apologies.

Or, possibly, this unplanned pregnancy happened during her dramatic episode of surprise and anguish, and in a chain reaction, the mass of stars overhead had all shifted together behind the master design of all things that make up the whole Universe. That day is blurry in the back of her mind, to no avail. There are holes left in the events that occurred after she read that letter in front of Sebastian.

She at best, does remember making that certain wish she should have not said out loud then, for somehow, it came true, and with a very notable price.

When she falls asleep later on, tossing around in her sheets, Elizabeth already dreams of what the baby will most likely look like; she sees vague flashes of a little pale face, slender and smooth, unspoiled by moles or birthmarks, along with two eyes darker than hers, and a full head of crow-black hair.

Her fourth month of pregnancy mark arrives.

It's a cloudy, stormy afternoon, and Elizabeth jolts awake from another nap, all achy and sweaty. There are three steady knocks upon the front door downstairs, signaling it's Edward. They come again after few more moments of waiting. Elizabeth's heart skips a beat as it hits her.

Throwing back the covers, she flings herself forward and grabs her robe, willing her body to shake off the sleep as she descends the front staircase quickly.

Edward's eager to get inside where it's warm and dry as soon as she unlocks the door for him. "Elizabeth, where on earth is Paula?"

"I sent her home last night." Elizabeth acknowledges, watching him shrug off his jacket. He's soaked down through his vest to his shirt. "She hasn't been able to see her poor elderly mother lately, so I told her to return in two days time."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"She won't tell anyone, Edward. She swore!"

"No, I meant, what if you were to need something? What if something went wrong?"

Elizabeth's blood runs cold. She wants to tell him, something already has already gone wrong, brother, but instead her mouth remains clamped shut and after an instant of reconsideration, she asks him, "Why are you here today, and riding out in the rain at that? I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow!"

"...I'll light a fire," Edward merely decides, heading into the mainly-empty drawing room. "You should hear this."

Elizabeth immediately follows in his tracks. "Hear what?"

"I know you want very little to do with Ciel presently...but this is important, sis. This is big."

Therefore, the two Midford siblings settle down beside each other on the small settee Edward had managed to bring her by rope and carriage recently, wrapping themselves in matching knitted quilts. Their silhouettes are outlined by the blazing fireplace as they dive into the latest talk of the Queen's Court—which is about special bloodlines—and their goal in preserving those bloodlines.

The Queen is now ordering Ciel and Sieglinde to produce heirs.

Edward clarifies that as Victoria's English Empire spreads further into India, Ireland, and improves on the African Railways, she's naturally making more enemies than ever now behind the curtain. The death tolls of the native workers and servants overseas are reaching the ears of the lands' leaders. But the Queen is eager to win. In the eyes of their government, this is for the best if England still wants to use the decent trading routes they've molded out by now. Ciel's toy business is booming similarly, thanks to Sieglinde's own contacts she has on the surrounding country boarders, which ultimately, keep the Queen's profits stable too, and the power's forever in her favor.

"But there's two sides to every coin," Elizabeth comments.

Edward agrees. "Exactly. And the Queen's no fool. She knows our country could easily fall into war again if there's no one to sustain that wide web of linked profits after she's gone. That's why she's seriously encouraging Ciel to pass on his Watch Dog obligations. And Mother told me this morning that the Queen is hoping for a whole litter of newborn Phantomhives, just in case. If Sieglinde doesn't have a boy first, they're going to expect another try at it straightaway. Within the year or less."

"That could literally kill her," Elizabeth criticizes, making Edward bite his lip. "A mother's body obviously needs to heal after birth before she's ready to carry another child."

"Yes, but it's desperate times and all."

Elizabeth huffs. "For the sake of the country's power. Of course. I hope they have all the luck they need."

"...Lizzy." Edward mutters suddenly, and she knows by that tone that he wants her full and undivided attention. "Do you still love him? Ciel?"

Elizabeth pulls her quilt tighter around herself protectively, her eyes lowering. "I do...and I can't help it, brother. How do I tell my heart to stop loving?"

"But, be honest with me. Would you rather it be you in Sieglinde's place? Because, honestly, somehow I think you were the lucky one. I wouldn't want you to be there instead."

Hurt. Confusion. Fire. Sorrow. All those things rush through her veins one right after the other, and Elizabeth feels the child inside her womb give a stern kick, as if it's responding to her own reaction. Flinching, she commands herself to disregard it and look her brother straight in the eye. "Why would you say that?"

"Think about it, sis," Edward moves closer and rests his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Truly think about it. Would you want to be forced into having children, within the year of each other, who were not conceived in love but out of sole duty? Can you to imagine what that could do to you? Or your relationship with Ciel? Please, tell me the truth. Can you picture Ciel as a father? The father of your children? Honestly, sis, what child would want that?"

"But he—I can't even recall—what about my child, Edward?" she struggles to let her real thoughts be known. "My real child, the one who's growing inside of me right now? What were they conceived out of? What will they have? Think of the father they'll know, or won't know. How is any of this lucky?"

"Elizabeth, they'll have you. And that's all that should matter." Her brother vows in reply with a weighty sense of familial purpose. "They'll have you, and me."

Now, Elizabeth has to smile back at him in spite of her previous fears. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

Edward thereafter provides his sister with the helping hand of Judith Wheeler; she's a middle-aged Welsh governess who has piercing ice blue eyes, and always wears dark blue dresses with white folded collars every day. Her straight almond-brown hair a shade darker than Paula's rests in tight bun high upon her head. She's an experienced midwife as well and has preformed a dozen homebirths to account for; she promises that each of the babes she's ever known have grown healthy and clever without any physical concerns.

Elizabeth quickly learns to enjoy Judith's company too, which is naturally an added advantage. Judith is hard in the mind like her mother is. She's thorough and not easily upset by the smaller things. Even Paula admires her as a fellow caretaker. Judith's very trustworthy too because as far as Elizabeth can tell, Judith isn't concerned about the bustling society outside of House Briar. She intends to stay for the baby's sake, in secret or not.

By Elizabeth's seventh month of pregnancy, in midsummer, she remains in bed most of the day and takes short steady walks around the home each night upon Judith's instructions. Paula brings her broth soups to eat along with fresh roses plucked from the garden to brighten up the place, and Edward...well, he must deliver more unsettling news of on Sunday morning.

"Things look worse than before. The Queen herself has been asking about you," he says. "She noticed that you're not coming to any balls or charity functions with Mother anymore. At all. Ciel also says it's strange, even for you."

"Wait. Ciel's been wondering about me?" Elizabeth blinks up at her bother, genuinely confused. Edwards stands there rigidly, nodding. "Surely they don't care where I am, brother. They have what they want."

Her words cause Edward to rake his nails over his head and he turns around to pull the waiting chair closer to the edge of her bed. "Lizzy, listen...Mother and Father are getting more and more worried. I can see it. They want to protect you, yes, but they cannot disobey the Queen's Court without serious consequences. The Queen would like you to marry someone else soon, of the government's choosing...perhaps even Charles Gray, from what I've heard. And your future children will be paired off with Ciel's, so that way, our bloodline remains consistent. Dominant."

"No. No." This is too much. This makes Elizabeth want to scream. "No! I have to protect this child! Edward, you know I just can't—ah! Ouch!" Her shouting is cut off and Elizabeth clutches her stomach, hissing in pain as the inner fire returns and it feels like it's burning her womb within.

Thankfully, the sizzling sensation is fleeting. It fades as soon as Edward reaches for trembling hand, holding it in both of his tightly, whispering his apology. "I know. I know. Elizabeth. Calm yourself. Breathe. Don't make the baby restless. I am telling you this to create a new plan."

Judith steps in when the timing feels right to her. "Master Edward, please sir, I think it's time to let her rest until you return tomorrow."

"Yes alright, Judith, thank you."

Alexis hears from Edward again at dawn when he returns from House Briar after two more weeks of this scheme sail by.

The first couple of nights, his son had practically crept out of the house like a trained thief to visit his sister. Edward knew when to leave, too. He always vanished whenever the they were sleeping or had appointments in London City. Nowadays he's become the family's personally messenger boy, traveling back and forth between homes, being the only source of live contact they have with Elizabeth.

But the Queen's Court has been acting wary of Elizabeth's long absence. Pointed speculations are stirring, wondering if she's planning some form of revenge by siding with Victoria's rivals overseas. Naturally, Alexis and his wife have assured everyone that Elizabeth has no such diversion to play. She hasn't even left England's soil. Though that's just as fickle to prove when people would rather gossip about her and Elizabeth still refuses to go public her dilemma.

Alexis strolls out back and catches up with his son within the stables saddling up the two same horses again. "...Your mother is going with you today, yes?"

Edward nods. "She is, Father."

"...I like these stallions," Alexis tells him in another instant of private reflection. "They were easy to break from the start, and yet, they enjoy running free while they can. I watched them being born and they've both grown into proper animals I can value and trust. I'd hate to lose them."

"Father," Edward sympathizes, grasping the subtle metaphor. "it's going to be fine. We'll think of something, we always do. We never back down. We're Midfords."

Still, Alexis can only turn his head and gaze towards the northern horizon, feeling something akin to homesickness. "I just miss her."

"She misses you," Edward promises in correlation.

"Edward, son, would she...would she betray the Queen for her child?"

"Would you?"

For a father like Alexis, the very sun set and rose on the two children he's created. There is no humanly force stronger than his love for them. "Yes," he declares.

Francis suddenly appears behind Edward and breaks the rising tension. She's all bathed and neatly dressed in her own work boots and riding uniform.

"Be safe, darling," Alexis says fondly as he waves them goodbye.

The long-overdue reunion between mother and daughter bring tears of relief to Elizabeth's eyes, and for a moment, the three Midfords sit there in silence with Edward sitting on one side of Elizabeth's bed and with Francis sitting directly on the other side, embracing her tightly.

Hours later, the heavy current of emotions evens out again and Elizabeth's eyelashes are now dried while she sips at the warm herbal tea Francis has made for her herself and listens to reason.

"On one hand," her mother points to both her and Edward, "it's supposed to be your choice. Though...on the other hand, I don't think a woman could really call it a choice at all. Queen Victoria wants her required bloodlines to be set in stone; and even if though it makes her uneasy about it, she insists they be children through you too, and those children will breed with Ciel's one day, similar to what was planned before his other girl-bride showed up. It's really The Queen's way...of making up for your loss, I reckon. The problem is though, they don't know where you are, or why you're really gone."

"So...," Elizabeth starts hoarsely, "no matter what I want to do or say, I'll be pushed into marriage?"

Her mother smirks with visible sarcasm. "If they're thick enough to try it."

"And if I humbly decline the Queen's request and tell her the truth, then I'll be charged with treason?"

"Worse." Edward imagines grimly. "No one will want anything to do with a butler's secret love child. The child may be shipped off to the Asylum to be kept of out of sight and kept silent. And your future husband will be forced to make you forget it ever happened once you start having legitimate children with him. I mean, you don't remember how you got pregnant in the first place. They might use that information to their own advantage."

"Edward, please, that's a little harsh," Francis scolds briefly. "We have to know that Queen Victoria is not the villain in this case. She is acting on the greater good's behalf. We must not England fall to another empire's control."

Elizabeth doesn't understand what side her mother's truly on. "Then...you are going to make me leave House Briar after the child is born?"

Chuckling, Francis leans in and tips up her daughter's drooping chin to meet her eyes. And she speaks softly now—and shrewdly—as if Francis knew she was getting away with something. "As a Knight of England's Cavalier, I would tell you to make that sacrifice for your own safety, but here, alone, as your mother and nothing else...I'm personally suggesting that you should continue using House Briar as your best playing card."

"How?" Elizabeth and Edward chime in together.

"They don't want you to hide, Elizabeth! You are not an old maid tossed aside! You are not shunned because Ciel did not marry you! You are still desired! They need your womb! You are the hidden gem they're all searching for! They will bait you to return with whatever they can use. They want you to be happy and be willing to do what they say. But, how can they do that when you're unhappy?"

"I see," Edward is suddenly to follow their mother's train of thought and it makes his expression to shift into something slightly more mischievous. "Elizabeth can use her value and bait them instead. She can stall however long it takes and force them to make every compromise she desires in exchange for her consent to be married; and ha-ha, it's Checkmate!"

Elizabeth understands now too; she realizes the new degree of power she can have over the Queen's Court if she just keeps on making all the right moves and just doesn't stumble after this. "Mother," she mutters plainly, "that is perfectly deceitful. That has to be treason."

"Would you rather give in, then?"

No, not necessarily. Elizabeth doesn't want to seem like such a coward, but she does not know what she'd say if London City would see her waltzing in suddenly with a newborn carried on her hip.

Although, there is something about being with child that changes how a mother sees her whole role in life. She knows those things now. Her own maternal instincts have already been flourishing to new heights these days, and she's becoming a new woman who has to eat, sleep, and survive for two, and with each passing month, awaiting the actual birth, she gets more attached to the child inside of her. And as biased as it sounds, Elizabeth can sense her child will be someone...special.

"No, Mother. I can't give in yet."

Francis clutches her hand. "So be it."

Francis, Edward, and Paula take charge in cleaning the entire house up. They dust the off shelves, sweep the wood floors, wash the sheets, and carry in the new pieces of furniture which Alexis somehow managed to (discreetly) send out their way.

House Briar will be a glorious, welcoming space for the child to get used to.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Judith busy themselves accenting the nursery walls and their bassinette with pillows, toys, and other sweet trinkets of soft yellows and pale blues.

Elizabeth herself is always drowsy though now, and she just feels...large, and a bit moody too, so Judith comes into her chambers one night handing her a dairy that has not been written in yet. In her professional opinion, it'll be quite beneficial to Elizabeth, because she already has so many stressful details fret about besides the baby. The journal will be for eyes only and she can write whatever she needs to. It's a ingenious and healthier way to shed some of that anxiety off her, to put it all down on paper and leave it there. And, Elizabeth takes to the idea without difficulty. She sits up in her bed each night and each morning, scribing her whole story down no matter how ridiculous it may look in words. She writes about the feelings she can't express out loud, theories she has about love and other things she can't explain. She marks down her memories of the old Ciel, and shares the fears she has had about the older Ciel. She retells that strange night that Sebastian and her just happened to the unthinkable...how it was completely unplanned...and it didn't make any real sense, for she blacked out, and time seemed to stop around them...and how it felt as if they were bewitched, and it wasn't until the next morning when Sebastian had fled, did they both realize what had occurred between them.

Overtime, the pages of that dairy become yellowed, wrinkled and used, stained with ink and tears, and they grow denser with childhood riddles and motherly worries and untold tales that have never reached another's ear.

Elizabeth's halfway through her ninth month when Royal Letters of Requests start coming to the Midford Manor door, personally via a regal-clad deliverer. Alexis accepts them and he passes them onto Edward, who gives them to Paula on the porch of House Briar, who goes up and offers them to Judith and Elizabeth to read.

Elizabeth asks for Judith's own insight on this topic tonight, curious to know what would she really say if it were herself in her place? The governess exhales and admits that she is a bit disappointed in the government, frankly. This Era of Victorians is supposed to be about moving forward in traditions, ideas, medicine, construction, and science. And if England would rather still encourage this Old World practice...this compulsive molding of relationships in order to breed women like mares for the sake of their land's wealth, then what would that say about the English people in another hundred years or so? It's hypercritical.

Judith goes on to tell Elizabeth how she was in fact, one of those children. Judith is merely one of ten siblings total back in Wales. She actually has four older sisters of her own who are hardly one year older than the next, and then she has one younger sister that came eleven months after herself. Finally, the three prized brothers came last.

Forget disappointed, Elizabeth could say that Judith sounds downright revolted by the idea. She's almost afraid to ask, "...And your mother?"

"Died in childbirth during the last one, which was Henry." Judith confirmed, sensing that question had to be coming. "None of us like to accuse Father of anything in his presence, but the truth is, we all saw how he was breeding our mother right down to her last breath."

Elizabeth gapes at her. No wonder Judith has such a strong opinion about this topic when it's so personal for her. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Father grieved her death though." Judith shakes her head. "But not for the reasons we thought were right. He lost his fertile wife and he feared his lack in sons. It...almost became an obsession for him. His second wife, our stepmother, Kitty, only birthed one more boy for him, Jacob, two years after Mother's funeral. She gifted him with a boy straightaway, but that was the only successful—yet difficult birth. She wasn't made for that, and she spoke up for herself after Father tried to practically rape her right after Jacob's first birthday. She let our father know how wrong it felt. If he wanted a full employee line of his own, then he should makes us girls work too. In our own ways, we are all grateful for Kitty. She was feisty in ways our mother wasn't. She looked out for all of us. It was because of her, I'm here today as a skilled governess, making sure other families are family. And happy."

Elizabeth's frown then lifts into a contented smile, feeling relieved to hear Judith did have somewhat of happy ending. However, the vile nature of Judith's backstory only reminds Elizabeth where she is right now and she is constantly wondering how this story will end. She lets out another short breath, her hands falling over the wide pale curve of her belly. "So...with that out in the open...what do you think of children who are birthed outside of love and marriage?"

"Things happen, Elizabeth," Judith says, unfazed. "We have our plans sometimes...but the Good Lord has his. Have faith."

"Faith," echoes Elizabeth, quite miserably, "Certainty. Having answers. Trust. Those things have escaped me for the moment."

Judith folds over the quilt to tuck her in more securely. "Doubt is natural. Just keep rethinking the new things you'll have. No child should be called a mistake."

"What about the parents, then? Are they the true mistakes? ...Judith, what if my child comes to me one day, asking about how I met their father and how it led to giving birth to them—and the only response I'll ever have for them is—I can't remember how it happened, love, so just go play?"

"Why not stop worrying about what you can't remember, and make your own memories that count for something? That child is going to be your most significant memory yet to have, Elizabeth, no matter what has happened in the past. It's up to you in how you will show that to them. Children listen, they see more than you realize. They know what's good and what's bad in your life. And sometimes, they're afraid to learn it's them. Don't let the regret poison you against them."

Edward is cornered by the Indian Prince at the Opera House one night. Without warning or invitation, Soma comes over and sinks down next to him. Regardless, Edward's grateful that if he's going to be harassed by a royalty figure, it's Soma, and not Queen Victoria herself who is currently sitting by herself up in the third balcony, which is shielded by thick red curtains. Edward doesn't dare to look in her direction, dreading what would happen if he would.

He can handle Soma...or he thinks he can handle Soma.

The Prince is a vigorous character who has a lot of natural energy to release, meanwhile all of his sister-secret-keeping has basically drained Edward of his own.

Soma's troubled over Elizabeth too, and Edward repeatedly nods along in empathy. Soma used to call Elizabeth his little sister, and slyly he murmurs into Edwards's ear that it's a real shame that she's not here anymore. He likes her far better than Sieglinde.

With that, they both slant over a little bit to the left together to spy on Ceil and Sieglinde settled in a few more rows ahead of them, their eyes watching the stage and nothing else. But when the black butler begins to turn his head, Edward and Soma immediately lean straight back into their seats, pretending they're not guilty of anything. Edward senses Ciel must be trying to avoid an awkward encounter with him likewise.

They haven't spoken directly to each other since Edward was roped into showing up at the wedding.

Francis was rearranging Elizabeth's back pillows for her while the late summer breeze blows in, causing the lace curtains to sway sideways. "...Mother, what is it like? Seeing your child for the first time?

"Any day now, Elizabeth, you will hold your own child in your arms when they're born, and then you tell me."

"She."

Her mother stops, surprised. "What?"

"She," Elizabeth empathizes.

"How do you know it's a girl?"

"When I woke up this morning, Mother, there were three crows just sitting there calmly...upon the windowsill, not making a sound. And that made me remember that old nursery rhyme you used to sing to me about crows. One's for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl...and so on."

"It's a just silly saying based upon old superstitions, Elizabeth."

Aye, that might be so, but Elizabeth is in the right position to believe in some old superstitions now she hasn't before. "Well, sometimes silly things happen, Mother."

Ciel and Sieglinde don't fit together so perfectly.

It's officially their first time tonight, and it's...in one word, awkward. But they try. Their noses collide, their lips don't really align when she leans in, and their hips meet at a mildly odd angle. She's a harmless, strange, but pleasant girl who was born to the woods, who belongs to wolves, and she starts off slow beneath him. But eventually her hands find their way around his neck, her fingers explore his hair, the pad of her thumb runs across the black fabric of his patch. Her body is something new and unfamiliar to him, sure and soft, yet she's not that more experienced than him—so, frankly, Ciel finds some form of satisfaction in that fact.

Though, still, as the heat and the friction builds between them, his thoughts start to drift elsewhere and he has this fleeting image of Elizabeth. He wonders about her during the day more times than he desires to. Where is she? How was she? What would she say if she knew—

Sieglinde's panting now. It feels a bit better, a little more physical. His hand grips the blue silk beneath her.

"I'm sorry," she whispers into his shoulder after another short thrive of her torso.

And although he's not quite sure what she's apologizing for, he still just breathes back, "I know."

Paula's not the best rider when it comes to fast trotting or open-country running, so for her to come rushing into the courtyard on All Hallows Eve on Edward's stallion, hair wild and cheeks flushed, Alexis knows whatever she must tell them, it's urgent.

And it is.

"Your daughter's in labor," she says, chest heaving.

So after informing Francis of the situation, they all dive in the carriage this time, coached by Alexis, and quickly out to House Briar they go.

Crisp crimson leaves continue to fly across the glowing sunset and a great number of crows litter the roadside the whole way up there.

And once they eventually arrive and they dash their way inside, Francis and Paula reenter Elizabeth's chambers.

Elizabeth is screaming behind the door. Alexis stops sprinting and listens to his daughter's agony until he decides to turn away. Venturing further down the narrow hall, he finds Edward sitting on the oak bench, hunched forward, his lips pressed against his clenched fists. He jumps out of his nervous trance when his father pats his shoulder, taking a seat next to him. "Father...you came."

"I did."

Edward exhales and glances at the ceiling in thought. "She's been like that for four hours, Father. What's taking so long?"

"Patience, Edward, patience." Alexis advises, not knowing what else he could say but that. "Childbirth is different for all women. It takes time...that part is normal."

"Before Paula was able to ride out to tell you...she said Elizabeth was running a fever. Her skin was usually very warm and there was bloodloss...Elizabeth even fainted during the process. It took them three full minutes to wake her in order to continue for the baby's sake. Is that normal?"

"Edward, this is your sister. I know she always seems so sweet and innocent, but—"

"—but she's a Midford, I know." Edward fills in on instinct. "She won't give in even if it kills her."

Alexis gulps, tracing his large hand over his beard. "Precisely."

By midnight, however, it's finally finished.

The small, damp baby girl Elizabeth embraces tightly to her chest cries the through the night and then cries nonstop through the next morning.

That constant choppy, short, cawing sound becomes a bit grating to the ear if Edward has to admit it.

"Well?" he comments over the fussing; for the stronger part of his conscience is just pleased to see them both alive. "What is her name?"

"Melania!" Elizabeth half-shouts in response, shifting the baby's head over her arm. "Melania Grace Francis Midford."

Edward presumes Elizabeth named her that because of her evident hair color, and it's definitely not the typical Midford gold-blonde. No, Melania has Greek origins, referring to something black or dark.

After a while, when midnight creeps in over House Briar once more, the wailing ceases. Just like that, oddly enough, and little Melly Grace (as Edward already likes to call her instead) doesn't cry again.

Five days later Sebastian is stirring Ciel's afternoon tea when he feels a quiet pull, a phantom tug from within herself. Pausing briefly, he sets the matching spoons and painted teapot back down, having this unexplainable urge to walk up to the window. He peers out beyond the glass, pondering what he's supposed to be seeing, if anything is there to see.

As his gaze slowly lifts upwards, he notices the large black feathery cloud of crows flitting north.

"Sebastian...what is it?" the boy asks, curiously.

"Nothing, Milord," drones the butler, facing him again. "Just a murder of crows."

Ciel scoffs. "A what?"

"A flock of cows, Milord, it's actually called a murder."

"Hm." Ciel rests his cheek against his palm. "That's appropriate."

It's winter. Christmas is pending and London City is in a seasonal frenzy, collecting gifts and preparing their feasts, singing corals.

And surprisingly, besides that, not only did the Midford party not attend Queen Victoria's anneal celebration as they usually would...they've sent Paula to arrive in their stead, escorted by Double Charles, and she comes in humbly handing over a scroll formally addressed to the Queen Victoria.

The Queen accepts it, unties the ribbon, and begins to read. She skims over the scroll twice before she reconsiders her options, then beckons Ciel to her side and she tells him to take a look at it as well:

To whomever this may Royally concern,

The Lady Elizabeth is well, I'll assure you of that much, but if I am to be honest before the Queen herself, she feels rattled and anxious about the new arrangements. As her private medic, I cannot help but wonder if she would be better off, for her sake, to remain here at her current location, House Briar, in which her family members now officially support financially. It's in the new deed. Therefore, if Elizabeth does consider returning to the social circles of the Queen, I will have be sure that the Court's need for her is greater than her own. Again, I am only concerned for her state of health and her fragile mind at the moment, and nothing more than that. Until she makes her true and final decision without any forced disturbances, I will watch over her.

Sincerely, Elizabeth's right-hand and medic,

J. W.

When Ciel is done evaluating this message himself, he looks up at Queen Victoria, wetting his lips quick. "What would like me to do with this, Your Majesty?"

Victoria sighs. "Poor girl. Elizabeth must be having a hard time with this. Perhaps I need to have my Court approach this current manner is more subtle way..."

"Perhaps it's this medic who needs to be more subtle," Ciel frowns upon the scroll then, passing it onto Sebastian who follows suit. "The nerve they have writing to you in this way..."

There's a pause, although the Queen speaks up again. "Perhaps; but I'm not angry with them. How I could be? I know about Lady Elizabeth. She has a good heart. Unless...as her cousin, you can tell me about bad intentions she's had in the past?"

"No, not ever." Ciel defends, unwaveringly. "Elizabeth may be...a little too extravagant, and too emotional at times. But she's not the kind of person who would have the gull to spit in the Court's face so bitterly like that, Your Majesty. She wants best for everyone. She always did."

"Yes, I thought as much. Though, in the meantime, we can't just forget this ever happened either. And that is where I'd ask you for another favor?"

"Of course. My loyal service is yours, Your Majesty."

"I fear that we are on the edge of a war breaking out, as you've so heard. And the lords from overseas are threatening to revolt. I must address the issue personally straightaway before they make the first strike. Therefore, I am hoping that I can leave the written responses of this scroll to you."

"Me?"

"Yes, Young Phantomhive. Even if Elizabeth will never be your wife now...I trust that she might still listen to you. She felt close to you, correct? Perhaps you're the one who can help her move through this easier."

With that in mind, Ciel figures if he agrees then he'll have half of her royal reasonability on his shoulders. The entire future of England's bloodlines are instantly counting on him.

"...I will...do everything I can." But naturally as her Watch Dog, he bows before her and will not reject her proposal openly. He never has the liberty to do so; not by much anyway. This is what he lives for. "...Your Majesty."

Queen Victoria reacts and smiles tenderly back at him as she rises from her throne in appreciation. "Your father would be proud of you, boy."

It's been nothing like the night when she was born.

Melania is now so...calm, quiet, for a two-week-old newborn and it ends up making Edward feel that more apprehensive about her.

Edward keeps questioning Judith about her behavior, her lack of infant-like peeps and babble, but Judith is rightfully trained for this. She assures him that she is watching his niece very closely, and thus far, there are no signs of deformity or illness whatsoever. She claims that Melania just isn't a vocal child, who hardly squirms during the night and she's merely content with silence.

"And she still feeds on milk every day?" he lists off once again.

"Yes, without any trouble."

"And she sleeps well enough when I'm not here?"

"Yes, and when we wake her, she still doesn't seem to mind. She's ready for anything."

Edward longs for a second professional opinion about it as he bends down to pick Melania up and he begins to rock her from side to side—though even Paula who has been at his sister's side since her early childhood does not see anything physically wrong for a little girl at this age either.

Edward encourages Elizabeth to sleep the first shift that day before he goes to sit in the nursery with Melania, his fingers curled around the her whole hand. He watches her open her deep, dark brown eyes and look out the window, fixated on the abundance of crows they've had lately in these parts.

"You like those black birds, Melly Grace?" he whispers to her in a way an adult would typically talk to an infant, almost cooing at her. He soon begins to hum a few lyrics softly under his breath, and bounces Melania on his knee a few times to the long-forgotten rhythm that's suddenly reforming in his head.

"One crow's for sorrow, two for joy,

three for a girl, four for a boy,

five for silver, six for gold,

seven for a secret, never to be told. Eight for a wish, nine for a kiss,

ten for a bird you must not miss!"

Melania is as soundless as ever, but she seems to find this new game of his amusing because she actually smiles a tiny girly-smile and continues eyeing the crows flying around outside. Her hand spreads wide and re-clutches around his forefinger.

Charmed by this, Edward simply keeps on nursery-rhyming too.

"One for sorrow, two for mirth

three for a funeral, four for birth

Five for Heaven, six for Hell

and seven for the devil, in his own self!"

(I confess that a small part of me has started shipping Ciel/Sieglinde a tiny bit, simply because I've grown very indifferent to them both, and because frankly...Lizzie deservers a lot better than Ciel anyway in my mind. Besides...Sieglinde actually turned out to be a rather useful plot device for this A.U. , in terms of who else in the manga could almost-realistically marry Ciel if it's not Lizzy?)