Prince Caspian stood beside the back door of the High Lady's audience room and pondered over Viella Ivelle and the new emotions beginning to form. A sensation so faint, and yet sweet, he wished it would never go away.
Considering he was never a normal man, to begin with.
The only time he had ever felt something more than the faint flutter of interest towards a maiden was when he was sixteen. And it was towards a milkmaid who carried a bucket of milk through a green field. Her hair was like woven silk, and her face freckled like the star-dotted sky.
Then, he had been sitting inside a carriage, feeling sick and weak from the ride. But the sight of the girl had distracted him for a moment before finally disappearing again. Almost as quickly as it had come. Only the image would come to mind every once in a while.
