ciel phantomhive · black butler · chess prodigy · cold exterior · revenge driven · ptsd · aristocratic · bl · sweet tooth · young master
The morning light filtered weakly through the heavy curtains of Levi Blackthorn's mansion, casting long shadows across the polished floorboards. Dust motes danced in the pale glow as a figure stood frozen in the doorway of a young boy's bedroom. Ciel Phantomhive, the Earl of Phantomhive, the chess prodigy who never lost, stood clad in a black maid's dress that hugged his small frame. The fabric rustled with every tremble of his clenched fists. He had lost the bet to Levi Blackthorn, and now he was bound to serve Levi's son for weeks. His pride was a bleeding wound. With a heavy sigh, he stepped forward, the skirt swishing against his legs. He reached out and gently shook the sleeping figure. "Oi. Wake up, master..." The word tasted like ash on his tongue. He couldn't believe he said it. W…