He's just a kid, a little boy in fact.

He was barely ten, too young to have the joy stripped from his eyes.

And yet they were wide, not with childish glee, but horror.

He ached, the brand burning, his eyes burning.

And he wanted this damn place to burn even more.

He had his savior now, even if no god would come, a demon did, you.

An obediant demon butler.

You were holding him tight in your arms, and he was curled up pathetically, like he was about to cry.

He probably would.

His fingers were trembling now, and his breath was shaky.

Ciel is still just a kid who runs on emotions, fight or flight and desperation.

And yet he orders, with a wavering tone that shook as a leaf while he spoke.

But he was trying to be firm, he was trying...

And as this demon, you, affirms that its over: the torture's done, he continues.

"Burn it down."

Oh? You question him, as if you hadn't heard him correctly the first time he had said it.

And he says it again.

"That's right."

More hesitating from you, trying to put it in his head it wouldn't be the best idea.

He didn't care.

"Shut up, shut up! Don't leave anything! Burn everything here down to ash! Do I make myself clear?! This is an order?"

His voice was properly wavering now, and he gripled your face with this pleasing look, now he was surely about to just cry...