#cielizzy fluff

Summary: Elizabeth takes a midnight trip to Phantomhive Manor - and receives the confession of her dreams. Fluff. Sugary sweet fluff. (Older Ciel and Elizabeth. Probably 17, 18 or so.)

There is a medlar-tree/ growing in front of my lover’s house,/ and there all day/ the wind makes a pleasant sound./ And when the evening comes,/ we sit there together in the evening dusk,/ and watch the stars/ appear in the quiet blue. — Sappho, One Hundred Lyrics

“What are you doing here, Lizzy?” Ciel asks.

Elizabeth looks beautiful, dressed as she is—an off the shoulder gown of periwinkle blue with a nipped in waist and skirts that flowed down to the floor in a silken waterfall. Her hair, usually so childish and familiar, has been twisted up in a complicated cascade of curls held together by a white, white rose. Truth be told, she looks like a dream—a wonderful, forgotten dream, and Ciel is almost speechless because when did his Lizzy grow up to be so elegant and beautiful?

Ethereal, perhaps, is the better word.

But his tongue is heavy and the words are stuck in his throat, forcing him to sit there, leaden, behind his great rosewood desk while the moon rises and evening stars begin to glimmer.

Her expression is soft, those doe green eyes innocent but pained, framed by long dark lashes that easily catch the dewdrop of her tears.

Her tears.

“Lizzy?” Ciel is panicked now, immediately rising from his high-backed armchair and rushing to her side. They are facing each other and he can smell her perfume—gardenias and sweet pea and the late August sun—and he feels slightly intoxicated by it all. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh it’s nothing!” She quickly exclaims, brushing away her tears and putting on the same cheery smile Ciel has grown used to seeing.

Except now, he feels the fool—how long had he been taking her smiles at face value? Never caring to look beneath the golden hair, ebullient demeanor, and elated cries of Ciel!

“Tell me.” He says this more firmly, taking Lizzy’s wrist, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse as they stand there together, the moonlight bathing them both in pearlescent silver. One hand comes to tilt her chin upward, forcing jade eyes to meet sapphire blue. A single absurd thought crosses his mind—no tears should ever fall from her eyes.

Rationally, he knows such a request is impossible but he is Ciel Phantomhive and he does not ask. He is the Queen’s Watchdog and he can bend the axioms of reality to suit his needs. She’s far too lovely to cry.

“I was just…remembering something, that’s all.” She finally sighs, a slight smile on her lips.

“What is it?”

“I—well,” the apples of her cheeks turn pink as she blushes, averting her gaze to the ground, “tonight…tonight is my debutante ball.” Lizzy manages at last, lifting her eyes to meet Ciel. 

He does not look surprised. “I know.”

“You do?” Lizzy’s brows furrow in confusion. “Then…then why didn’t you come?” She sounds hurt—hurt and worried and so full of unconditional love that Ciel wants to throw himself at her feet, tell her that she deservers better, that she’s meant for happiness and joy and sunlight. How can he bring himself to condemn her too? Shackle her to a life in the underworld—marrying the Queen’s Watchdog, a thrice damned child who sold his soul to the devil.

“Lizzy—“

“Why didn’t you come Ciel?” She whispers, jade eyes misting over with tears. “I promise you didn’t have to stay for long—only a few moments, and you didn’t have to dance with me either. You only had to be there long enough for father to announce that we were betrothed and—“

“Oh Elizabeth,” Ciel presses his hand against her cheek, bringing her closer towards him. “Elizabeth…I’m sorry.” 

He sees a strike of fear appear in her eyes and he wants to reassure her that everything will be alright, that things will be fine, that—

“You…you don’t love me, do you Ciel?” She asks quietly, not a hint of anger or resentment in her voice. Only soft resignation and gentle acceptance.

Ciel feels a part of himself break. He could lie and say that he doesn’t love her—that he doesn’t want to marry her—that their betrothal was a childhood dream meant for happier times. It would be easier this way—cleaner, simpler—but he is Ciel Phantomhive and damn it all, he is selfish. Unrelentingly selfish. Wanting the whole world and all its trophies without giving a damn to the consequences thereafter.

And Elizabeth. He leans in closer, their lips nearly touching. God—she is the purest part of him. The best part of him and he loves her with such adoration and devotion that he is terror struck when he thinks about losing her. About tainting her. About ruining the girl he has loved for so long and with such unyielding affection—would she hate him if she knew what he truly was? A feckless coward who’d made a deal with the devil for a bit of power and some revenge? 

“God, Lizzy…I adore you as I’ve adored nothing else in my life. You are my morning star and without your light, I would be lost—utterly, completely lost. I want you to be happy, I want you to remain this way,” he touches her cheek, eyes pained and words heavy, “marrying me would be a death sentence, my love. And you are far too good for a life hidden beneath the shadows.”

And, in the aftermath of his whispered confession, Ciel can’t help himself—he’s held back for so long, restrained himself at all costs, that this one moment feels as close to heaven as he could ever dream of.

He kisses her, then and there, mouth meeting mouth in the sweetest kiss. She tastes like a valentine and feels so soft in his arms that the crueler part of him—the greedier, more selfish part of him—finally wins over.

It’s true that Elizabeth deservers better than him—much, much better—but he is Ciel Phantomhive and he is only human. And this girl, this sweet, sunshine girl, holds his humanity in the palm of her lily-white hands. How can he not adore her with the whole of his being? As the moon loves the sea…as Hades loves Persephone.