Chapter Text
There's so much about this world I don't understand—religion, Earth, space, and the infinite possibilities beyond our reach. But nothing prepared me for childbirth. Specifically, childbirth in 1885—though I doubt the process has changed much in centuries.
I stand frozen beside my employer's wife, Rachel Phantomhive, gripped by a twisted awe. Handmaids rush back and forth, carrying bowls of bloody water. As the family maid, Rachel asked me to be here with her.
She trusts me the most.
The scene spins around me like a storm I can't fully grasp. The midwife sits between Rachel's legs, held in stirrups recently fashioned by her assistant. Rachel screams, fighting through fierce contractions. Her skin is pale, flushed with red, glistening with sweat.
She struggles to push. I take her hand and smile.
"You got this, my lady! We're going to get this precious baby out!" I cheer her on.
Her fingers squeeze mine so hard it shakes my arm. I wince.
"Don't act so happy! This is truly—!" she cuts off with another scream.
I grab a damp washcloth and pat her forehead gently.
Suddenly, the midwife gasps, eyes bright with urgency. "The head is crowning, Lady Phantomhive! Please, push!"
I beam, excitement bubbling up. I glance at Rachel with a wider smile.
"Your baby is almost here! You just gotta fight a little longer!"
Rachel groans, exhaustion weighing heavy after eight hours of labor. She shudders deeply, then nods with fierce determination. She pushes, screaming through it. Sweat trickles down her temple—I wipe it away while she clamps down hard on my other hand, cutting off circulation.
"Keep pushing!" the midwife urges, eagerness clear in her voice.
Rachel collapses against the bed, panting hard. But by some miracle, her body moves on autopilot. She pushes again with a guttural shout that echoes deep in her chest.
I'm suddenly overwhelmed by how incredible women are.
My heart pounds as I watch the miracle unfold. The midwife announces the head has emerged. Two more pushes, and the baby slips out.
Seconds later, cries fill the air—a sharp, piercing wail.
Morbid fascination takes hold as I stare at the infant, covered in a white, slippery substance and blood. Rachel's grip slackens in mine. She exhales deeply, like a heavy weight lifts from her shoulders.
The midwife takes the baby, checking its tiny body. Her assistant moves forward, ready to clamp the cord. The infant continues crying, loud and insistent. I feel drawn to the raw miracle of life.
"It's a healthy baby boy!" the midwife declares joyfully to Rachel.
Rachel's body relaxes further. Once the baby's cleaned and wrapped in a swaddle, the midwife moves to Rachel's side. Her arms stretch out, ready to hold her son.
"He's so beautiful." Rachel sniffles and presses a tender kiss to his head.
I smile at the heartwarming sight.
"He is, my lady. And dare I say, he looks like Lord Phantomhive." I chuckle as the baby hiccups in her arms.
I eye the blue hair with amusement. Anyone would know that was a Phantomhive.
Rachel giggles softly, entertained by my comment. But then her laughter twists into a groan of pain. I tense. The midwife exchanges a worried look with me.
"Lady Phantomhive, what is the matter?" the midwife asks.
"The contractions…" Rachel gasps, face paling. "...they aren't done?"
Panic flashes in the midwife's eyes. She quickly moves back between Rachel's legs and inspects her. I bite my lip, anxiety rising.
"There's—!" the midwife gasps, shocked. She looks up and meets Rachel's eyes. "My lady, brace yourself. You're having twins!"
My jaw drops. No way.
"Twins?!" Rachel screams, horror in her voice. "I can't…not again!"
I wince at her tone. I don't blame her for feeling overwhelmed.
"My lady, let me hold the little lord while you concentrate." I offer softly, smiling. "I promise to keep him safe while you deliver."
Rachel hesitates, but another contraction hits and she screams, shoving her son into my arms. The baby cries at the sound of her pain. I cradle him carefully, as the midwife's assistant showed me.
I rock him gently, trying to soothe his sharp cries. Rachel's screams only grow louder.
Soon, the next baby arrives. Hearing his brother cry, he cries too—a chain reaction I'm sure will last forever.
The midwife hands the smaller, premature infant to her assistant.
"It's another boy!" the midwife cheers, wiping sweat from her brow.
Rachel exhales a heavy sigh, utterly spent, and collapses into the bed. She's clearly out of it.
I smile, imagining two rambunctious twin boys running wild through the manor.
Today is truly glorious.
Rachel is too exhausted to hold them long, but she tries. The midwife urges her to feed them soon. Out of respect, I look away as Rachel breastfeeds, and instead help the maids clean the room.
I'm the first out the door when someone grabs my shoulders. It's Vincent.
His disheveled appearance tells me he's been waiting outside for a long time.
"Rina!" he breathes like a prayer. "How did it go?! Is everyone okay? The baby—Rachel—tell me everything?!"
I wince at his loud urgency. "It went really well! You have two new healthy children." I beam.
He nods, relieved, then does a double-take.
"Wait…two?!" he shouts.
"I won't spoil the genders," I tease. "That's for my lady to share." I giggle at his reaction.
"Nooo." Vincent whines childishly. "Please tell me—please! You know I'm not allowed in there!"
I've never seen this man so stressed. He looks like a wreck. I suppose I'd be the same if I heard my wife was in labor.
"I'd need my lady's permission." I answer with a small smile.
He slumps against the wall and lets go of me, sighing dramatically. "You're cruel to your lord." He smirks. "Are they…cute?"
I blush, picturing their wrinkled heads full of hair. "Absolutely adorable. Both have your hair color."
"They have the Phantomhive charm, hm? How lovely."
"Right. We can call it charm." I snicker.
He scowls. "Let you ruin something nice—how typical." he tsks.
I roll my eyes but grin. "I'm so happy right now. I don't know if my heart can take it."
His eyes widen then soften.
"Go get some rest. You deserve it."
"But—"
He cuts me off with a pat on the head.
"Thank you for watching over my wife."
I blush, touched. I nod quietly as he sends me off to rest.
My heart has never felt so light and full since arriving here.
I didn't know it yet, but this would be the last time peace felt this simple.
0o0o0o0o
Spring in the countryside smells like linen and warm soil. I wring out the cloth in my hands, my fingers red from the cold water, and clip it to the line overhead. Being a maid-slash-nanny isn't exactly glamorous, but it pays. And here, among these strange, wealthy Victorians, I have something like a family—maybe even a home.
At least, that's what I tell myself on the good days.
The truth is, I came here from the future.
Only Vincent knows that. I was just a thirteen-year-old trying to figure out what the hell was happening. I suppose I'm lucky I begged Vincent nearly every time I saw him to take me in.
At first, I was reluctant; living with a strange man wasn't exactly ideal. But Undertaker told me to talk to him. And here I am—living at Phantomhive manor as a maid.
I have no idea how I ended up in the past. It was traumatic. I chuckle softly at the memory. It's not really funny per se, but it's weird I don't remember much. As a thirteen-year-old street urchin in London, I didn't have much going for me. Still...
Vincent and Rachel thought I was the strangest child to come through those doors.
Rachel wanted children badly, but she and Vincent struggled. She didn't like the idea of me becoming a maid—considering my status—but she seems to have some compassion for a kid from the streets.
And speaking of children, after two years of service, she finally had her own. But after the birth, she developed postpartum symptoms. Her anxiety and restless emotions never fully go away, even after five years.
She's treated me a bit coldly since then. It's worse around her children—even if it's my job. But that's nobles for you, I suppose. Vincent's a different person entirely.
He treats me like a daughter, discreetly.
Still, even he can be cold in ways I've never seen when it comes to his own kids. Even to me at times.
He's become my father figure.
Not that I'd ever say that out loud.
I never had a father. My mom got knocked up by some deadbeat man at a bar—totally unexpected. It took a while for her to accept me, but as I grew, so did her maternal side.
She became the best mom I could ask for yet the reason my childhood felt so dark.
Smiling sadly to myself, I hang the last sheet on the line and step back. I wish I had a picture of her. I miss her so much. I miss the world I came from—especially the technology, and above all, the plumbing system.
Passing a window, movement catches my eye—Ciel running outside with Sebastian, the dog.
I smile down at the scene, wondering where the other twin is hiding.
I have a great relationship with the twin brothers; they both look up to me as their big sister. I love those cuties so much.
I head toward Fenian's room, wondering if he's in there. This mansion's huge. I knock softly to announce myself.
"Feni?" I ask.
There's some scuffling inside. "It's open!" he calls.
I crack the door and peek in. "There you are," I say as I step inside and close the door behind me. "What's up, sport?"
He scowls at the nickname but it fades quickly into a bright smile. "Rina!" he shouts, scrambling to hug my legs with his tiny arms.
I laugh and pat his head gently. "Whoa there, why so excited?"
"I'm always happy to see you!" he says.
Shaking my head, amused, I bend down and scoop him up, holding him at my hip. He wraps his scrawny arms around my neck, grinning.
"You just saw me this morning."
"Doesn't mean I didn't miss you." he pouts.
I laugh again at that. "You're so cute, you know that?"
"Yeah, I know," he replies with a small blush. "Are you done with your chores?"
Mentally ticking off my day's tasks, I hum. "I believe so. Why?"
"Can we play? Please!" Fenian pleads, eyes wide and hopeful.
I smirk, already knowing the answer. "Mmm. I don't know~" I sing-song teasingly, pretending to weigh it. "It might cost you."
He stares anxiously. "L-Like what?"
"That I—" I begin, then suddenly tickle his stomach. He bursts into giggles. "…get to tickle you!"
He laughs hard as I toss him onto the bed, where he lands face-first with an "oof." He scrambles to escape my fingers. "Not so fast, squirt!" I tease, diving after him.
I grab his leg just as he tries to slip away and tickle his stomach. He laughs, gasping between breaths. "S-Stop!" he stutters, still smiling.
"Not till you admit defeat!" I declare and go for his armpits.
He squirms, squealing when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. "O-Okay. I g-give up." He surrenders breathily.
I stop, giggling, and lie down beside him. The only sound is his steady breaths. I know our grins match perfectly. Just as I relax, he attacks my side with his fingers, laughing.
I shriek and try to scramble off the bed, but he tugs weakly on the hem of my maid dress. I pretend to be pulled back with a dramatic yelp. "Somebody save me! I'm being attacked!" I shout, laughing.
Fenian grins with mock menace. "Whoever saves you has to get through me first!"
Our laughter is cut short by a clearing of a throat. "What in the…" Rachel steps into the room, frowning.
I blush, caught, and Fenian's fingers still. We both look at his mother. She sighs, sharp. "Really? Don't you have chores instead of playing with my son?"
I wince, already hearing the scolding in my head. Rachel doesn't like me much anymore.
Honestly, I think she's a little jealous. She was kind to me once, and I know she loves her children—but she doesn't share the relationship I have with them. I bonded better with Feni than with Ciel, though Ciel still looks up to me and likes to be near me. He mostly sticks to his father.
I stand, reading the glare that says she wants me out. "I'll see you later, Feni!" I wave with a sad smile.
He pouts but quickly scowls. "No! I want you to stay!"
Rachel's eyes widen in surprise. "Fenian…"
I look at him, astonished. "Fenian, we'll play later."
He shakes his head stubbornly. "No! I want to—now!" He glares at his mother.
"Listen here—" I cut off Rachel before she can scold him.
"Fenian," I crouch to his eye level, seeing tears building. "You gotta listen to your mother, okay? I pinky promise we'll play tonight—with your brother too." I hold out my pinky, smiling.
He frowns but reluctantly links his pinky to mine. "Fine. You better not be lying."
I smile, reassuring. "I never break pinky promises." I swear.
He smiles back, caught by my earnestness.
We wrap our pinkies and chant, "Pinky swear made, whoever breaks their promise has to swallow a thousand needles~" We shake our clasped pinkies with big grins. "Sealed with a kiss..." we raise thumbs and press them together.
Giggling like kids, I let go, waving reluctantly.
Rachel steps aside, avoiding my eyes, treating me like just another servant. I frown and sigh, drained by her presence.
I head to the kitchen for a snack. After winding through endless halls and stairs, I arrive to the familiar clatter of chefs prepping dinner. The smell makes my stomach growl. Hopefully there'll be leftovers.
Smirking, I grab a green apple from a bowl on a worker's table and slip outside.
I greet some workers with polite hellos as I head to the backyard, wondering if Ciel's still out with Sebastian.
I settle on the steps leading to the pavement and grass beyond. The day is beautiful. I take a deep breath, the breeze brushing my face.
One nice thing about the eighteenth century? No pollution.
I chomp slowly on the apple, lost in thought about life. Then school pops into my mind—the last thing I usually think of.
I miss it too. The people. The learning. I miss getting an education.
I planned to go to college someday. Not sure what to study, but I wanted a future. Seems like that chance is gone here.
Since women are practically suppressed, I think miserably, grumbling under my breath.
I don't hear footsteps approaching.
"Penny for your thoughts?" a voice says beside me.
I turn left to see Vincent smiling, one eyebrow raised.
"Ah, hey Vincent," I greet casually.
I never call him by his title. It sounds weird. He doesn't seem to mind—unless others are around.
"How are you on this fine day?" he asks, sitting beside me.
I smile warmly. "Mmm. Not so bad. Definitely could be worse."
"That's good. What were you thinking about earlier? You looked like you were scowling at the ground." He laughs lightly, gazing toward the bordering forest.
I let out a small chuckle. "I was thinking about school." I admit, smirking.
He blinks rapidly, surprised. "Oh, right. I forgot you were going to, what was it? A public school?"
I nod, amused. "Yep, that's it."
"The future is very different from now." he says, awe in his voice.
"A total difference! You have no idea—no matter how much I tell you." I get a bit loud, thinking of all the contrasts. "Honestly, some things here feel really weird."
He focuses on me, eyebrows raised. "Like what?"
I tap my chin, thinking. "In the future, men and women are mostly seen as equals." I say, "It shows how long it takes for humans to realize—humans are humans, no matter their anatomy."
He tilts his head, confused. "Many would argue with you."
I laugh. "Yeah, but not you, Vincent." I tease lightly. "Though sometimes—"
A tick mark appears on his forehead. He scowls playfully. "You know I could kick you—"
"No! Please, I need you!" I interrupt dramatically, though I know he's joking.
He laughs, bumping shoulders with mine. "Joking."
I shake my head, amused, as Ciel appears out of nowhere.
Sebastian follows him, and both spot us. Ciel smiles and runs over. "Father! Sis!"
He's huffing from the run. Sebastian's at his side, the dog wagging his tail and approaching me.
"Hey, kiddo!" I say, scratching Sebastian's ears.
Vincent nods at his son warmly. "What are you up to, Ciel?"
"Playing with Sebastian. It's nice out," Ciel says, still smiling.
"Ciel, want to play with your brother and me tonight?" I ask.
He nods excitedly. "Of course!"
"Sounds like a plan."
Vincent stands, smiling at us both. "I have to go. I'll talk to you later."
Ciel and I watch Vincent walk back inside.
"Let's get you cleaned up, Ciel. It's almost dinner time." I offer, stretching.
"Ugh, fine." he complains, climbing stairs.
I offer my hand; he takes it gladly. We leave Sebastian outside in the sun. I toss the apple core in the trash on the way in.
We head to the bathroom. I duck out briefly to fill buckets with steaming water—heavy as hell.
Huffing, I climb the stairs and enter Ciel's room. The bathroom door is open; Ciel waits by the tub with a patient smile.
I set down the buckets, pouring the water in.
"I'll grab you some clothes." I say, heading out.
I hear him getting into the water. I fetch a clean outfit and lay it on his bed. Returning with the rag I brought, I find Ciel waiting, already in the tub, wearing a slight pout.
"What's wrong, kid?" I ask, worried it's too cold.
He pouts deeper and squirms. "I don't like baths."
I sweatdrop and shake my head. "Aw, come on. They're not that bad."
I grab the soap used for hair and body. It's an adjustment—I keep wondering where my other bottles are.
His hair is soaked; I place a hand on his forehead to keep soap from his eyes.
I scrub his hair with my nails, coconut scent filling the air. He relaxes instantly, humming.
Both brothers have a weakness for this, and it amuses me endlessly.
"You're lucky, you know that?" I say with a smile.
He peeks one eye open. "What do you mean, sis?"
"It must be nice not having to do anything." I complain with a pout.
He tilts his head. "I don't get it."
I laugh softly. "Nothing, Ciel. Nothing."
We're quiet for a moment. I rinse his hair with a bowl nearby, then lather the rag with soap and start scrubbing his body.
Silence hangs, and I can't think of anything to say.
"Rina?" he calls out suddenly.
"Yeah?"
He shifts. "What did you do before you came here?"
I freeze, stop scrubbing. "What makes you ask that?"
Ciel looks at me with innocent eyes. "I heard you talking to Father, but I got confused."
My eyes widen. I gulp, continuing to scrub. "Forget about it, Ciel. Don't tell anyone you heard that, okay?"
He stiffens under my hands but nods earnestly. "Okay. I won't."
"It'll be our little secret." I say, smiling to ease the tension.
He smiles back and relaxes.
"I think I'm done washing you. Stand up and unplug the drain, will you?" I ask, grabbing a tan towel.
He does as I say, stepping out carefully. I rub the towel through his hair, messing it up in cute little spikes. I dry his body gently, then run the towel through his hair once more.
I wrap the towel around his form, and he follows me back out to his room.
I dress him quickly, glancing at my pocket watch—almost dinner time. In a small rush, I comb out his hair, then toss the comb down on the table stand with a satisfied smile.
"All done!" I exclaim proudly.
He smiles back, cheeks flushing. "Thanks, sis!"
Before I can react, he wraps his arms around my legs in a quick hug, beaming even wider. "You're the best! See you later!"
I watch him leave his room, a soft smile tugging at my lips. These kids are going to be the death of me…