Your butler was your antithesis. Serious, monotone.

And yet so devoted.

You were Alois’s sibling, yourself being the older sister.

Today, Claude was in the kitchen, making you some sweets like you so sweetly asked. You eventually joined him, sitting up on the counter idly as he worked.

As he did so he made no effort to remove you, he knew how you were.

He worked silently as you observed, ever flat faced and dreary as he mixed some batter, taking a spoon of some pureed fruit filling and lifting it to you, voice firm and masculine, monotone as he spoke.

“...See that it is to your liking, your Grace.”