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Phantomhive Reborn
[Rough Draft]
22 September 2110
Death is smiling.
It swirls over our heads, dominating the sunset that might have once been beautiful, within its cold bleak folds.
I am numb.
So are the men and women beside me. They stand in perfect formation, not fully relaxed but ready for a fight that is inevitable to break out.
'The heir.' Others whisper.
'So young.' They try.
'So weak.' Is what echoes through their minds.
I ignore them.
The man who just departed within Death's welcoming arms enforced this ability more than he ever spoke to me. He ignored me. I understood.
My companions mostly hold the same sentiment, though it is clear that they too have doubts about the ascension. A young girl, a child on the throne of a murderer. Hardly seems fitting. However none of them are aware of the horrors she has seen and done. Not even the young tween standing protectively beside her. It is her ugly secret to guard selfishly and she holds it close to her chest.
Head of the Phantomhive Family.
She is the Head.
I am the Head.
Part of me knows my wonder is childish, as the daughter of his dead firstborn, I have always been my grandfather's heir; regardless of my age or my traitor Father. Regardless of the fact, that he largely ignored me and was a distant but well meaning guardian, I was still left stunned in the wake of his untimely bloody death. More so because it happened in front of me. Though he found it hard to express it, I and everyone standing in this courtyard knew I was the apple of his only eye despite his great efforts to sever any devotion between the two of us. But he was foolish.
Too foolish to realise I could have saved him.
Death is smiling.
He is overjoyed to collect that one soul that has evaded his grasp one too many times, for centuries. Finally after three hundred years of elusion, Death took Ciel Phantomhive for his own. But he greeted him like a friend, gently taking his hand and pulling him away from his bloody body, away from his eternal pain, away from the clutches of this cruel world.
Away from his grieving granddaughter.
I want to scream. I want to shout, yell and throw my things around like a brattish child. With his death not only does he leave me, but so does the freedom I once held. I am Head.
Nothing else.
My remaining family members stare down at my grandfather's coffin stoically, not one emotion betrayed even through their eyes and yet I know. It's as if they don't know how to feel. Their cousin is going to be their leader. Their baby cousin, whom they vowed to protect with their lives even if she was older than some of them.
I want to scream at them.
Instead I smile.
I walk over and lean down to take in my grandfather's features one last time. Now that he is at relative peace, unburdened by the affairs of this world it is easy to see he is a very handsome man despite his age. His naturally dark blue hair is the same shade as mine and his remaining eye is closed, which if opened would have displayed a blue so vivid that even Zeus himself could not compare. Despite how I hear of the dead, being pale and lifeless, Grandfather appears as if he is only asleep. If only it were so.
I stroke his features one last time, remembering the cold and distant man who raised me singlehandedly and gave me all the love and affection his cold heart could offer, as he struggled to play not only parent, but grandfather and the cool and collected Head of Family as well.
Taking a deep breath I steady myself for what is to come, deftly summoning a fire in my hand; it's blue flames gently licking my fingertips.
'May this Phantomhive be reborn to rule as he did before.'
And throw the flame into the casket.
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