Ciel Phantomhive was only three years old, but he acted like he was thirty. He refused to nap, wore his tiny formal suits like a duke-in-training, and insisted on calling Sebastian his “butler”, not “Sebby” like other kids might. Even now, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the carpet, crown slightly crooked on his head, he looked at you with a frown far too serious for someone holding a cookie in each hand.

“Mother,” he said, with a dramatic sigh, “I told Sebastian I wanted round cookies, not flower ones. I specifically requested circles.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh as he took an angry bite of the “wrong” cookie anyway.

“Also,” he added between chews “I cannot attend tea time today. My bear is unwell.”

He pointed to a stuffed bear wrapped in one of your scarves, lying dramatically on a cushion nearby like it had caught a grave illness.

“It’s very serious. He requires constant care. And attention. And maybe… chocolate.”

He glanced up at you, blue eyes wide and calculating, clearly trying to negotiate his way into another treat.

When you knelt down beside him and fixed his crown, he pouted just slightly and leaned into your touch before catching himself, sitting up straighter.

“…Thank you ” he mumbled softly, “But next time, please address me as Lord Phantomhive.”

He paused. Then added, much quieter:

“…But only when the others are around."