Some people have wished for death. Some have begged for life. Ciel, however, didn't care.
After he woke up on the floor, clothes torn, and the baby crying softly, he realized he just didn't care. His parents were dead, and solving their murder wouldn't give him any satisfaction; not for himself or for them. Loving Sebastian could give him nothing but heartache, but he couldn't bring himself to hate the demon. Heaven held no promise. Hell was his life, how much worse could it be after death?
He was done. Done with the contract, with the demon, with the Queen, after eighteen years, he was done. "Sebastian." He said, "This is an order: . . . give me an order." For what else could a puppet, an empty shell of a human, do?
The demon butler turned his attention away from his son. "Get up." He said to the earl, as if ashamed to serve such a being.
Ciel could find no reason to stand. However, laying there like a dead person was not Ciel's style. So he stood, staggered, and willed himself to look at the thing that had come from his body. Red eyes—like his father, black hair—like his father, black nails—like his father. What part was to be human? Ciel furrowed his brow, mouth turning down in disgust. He loathed this creature.
"You cannot think I truly look like this" Sebastian chimed in, as if reading the young man's thoughts. "This form is a guise." He smirked, showing fang, "I suppose, even after all these years, after all we have been through, you have not seen me for me."
The demon, sensing the boys' hate, handed the infant over to its would-be mother. Of course, this was all just to see Ciel's reaction. Everything was to poke fun at the humans—there was no better pass time.
A single mewing gurgle was emitted from the flailing baby. It was enough for the last sane strand in Ciel's mind to snap. He wanted to strike out, throw the child to the ground and laugh at its face frozen in its sudden fearful death—killed by the one person it had been so close to for the majority of the past year. He envisioned grabbing the letter opener and plunging it deep into its heart; how the blood would warm Ciel's too cold of hands. He pictured ordering Sebastian to take its soul, smirking at the horrified expression on the fathers' face as his long since hunger had been satisfied.
But Ciel couldn't bring himself to do any of those. A second mewing gurgle came to his ears, causing him to smile. If Sebastian was hiding his true form, then this child must look more human than demon. It wouldn't have the brain capacity to hide its form—would it? No, Ciel was certain that was going to look human. The thought broadened his smile. "Sebastian," He whispered "He will need a name."
Claude Faustus, Ciel decided, would be an adoptive child, pulled from the East end streets. He wouldn't have to share his embarrassing story of being a pregnant Earl, and would look like a kind hearted hero.
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years—and eventually the Earl found himself pregnant again.
Twenty-one years old, at least his body would be more suited for it. However, regardless of age, Ciel's belly grew bigger with each passing day, his clothes from the last time had long since become too small, and he was forced to go and purchase newer clothing. Nothing special, something mass produced, large enough to be comfortable,
Ciel kept his gaze to the pavement as he passed the crowds. He didn't want to stop and speak. And as expected, he bumped head long into someone coming from an alley
"sorry" the stranger muttered
"…Grell Sutcliff…" Ciel said, finally looking up. The red coat and hair sent a sudden feeling of nostalgia rippling through him.
The redhead turned, froze, and scoffed "Ciel Phantomhive" He felt hate and sorrow boil in his heart. "Ch, and just how," He motioned to the pregnant belly on the young Earl. "Did that come about?"
Sebastian slipped his arms around Ciel, resting his chin on the young man's shoulder "Well, I am just one hell of a butler."