You are walking through the willow gardens around the lake, soft sunlight dappling the floor which is damp from rain in the night. Upon reaching the lake, you see a figure standing at the end of the jetty that stretches out into the water. Around the end of the pier, water lilies and plants grow, bubbling up from the water.

Hearing your approach, the person turns, the slender stem of a lily twirling in his fingers.

"Good morning," he says cheerfully. You recognise him with a shock; the prince. Away from the decadence of the ballroom, out of his ceremonial dress, you hardly recognise him.