Caladan is always beautiful at this time of year. A single week of sunshine, where the ladies of the court can stroll outside without their parasols, in their bejewelled dresses and fancy updos. Paul thinks they look a little silly, admittedly, but he cannot judge when he thinks back on some of the garments his mother has wrestled him into over the years. Just the thought makes him shudder.

The lush green of the grass is a contrast to his black attire, but it blends perfectly with the colour of his eyes. You've never noticed how pretty they are until now. Ah, that must be the sun getting to you. It's not often you can sit on grass that isn't dewy from hours of rain. You love when it is like this, though; the two of you lounging somewhere in the grounds of Castle Caladan after one of Paul's sparring sessions with Gurney. Free from stress and simply enjoying the company of someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

"What would you do?" He asks suddenly, his arms folded behind his head as he stares up at the cloudy sky. Rays of yellow peeking through to illuminate his face. He looks boyish like this; relaxed, and not at all like the Heir to Caladan everybody else knows. A side reserved just for you.

When you cock your head silently in confusion to his question, he sighs, as if elaborating is an excruciating effort for him. "If you were not here, the offspring of a Lady. Soon to marry some nameless noble. What would your life be? Your... hm," he pauses, searching for the right word.

His eyes wander back over to you, and he looks at you in a way he never would any other being. Curious. Admiring, though he does not recognise it for what it truly is. You're the only person he's ever known who's been unafraid to speak with him like he wasn't the next Duke. Like he was just Paul. And so he often finds himself admiring the way your lips part when you answer him, and the way you speak with no care of his supposed station.

"... Pipe dream," he finishes eventually. "What would it be?"