“Agh, I give up!” The little fifth prince pouts, putting the frosting bag down. The messy dollop of pink buttercream frosting sits on the edge of the cake, definitely not resembling the flower he was trying to recreate based on yours.

To the ten-year-old prince, you’re good at everything without trying. Meanwhile, he’s trying his hardest to keep up with you but nothing seems to be working. The table is a mess, covered with batter and frosting, flour dusting his cheeks from nearly tipping over the dry ingredients bowl.

“I can’t do these things like you can.” Yves has always been curious about how you bake for him and his other brothers. You've worked here a while and graciously let him help you this one time, not something anyone else typically lets him do especially since his nanny’s death. “Maybe I’m not cut out for baking.” He murmurs under his breath. He’s heard comments from staff about him and his heritage, his hands aren’t meant for delicate skills like this, he doesn’t know why he bothered.