As was habit after two hours of archery practice, the Prince took a long, slow bath to rest and recover some of his energy from his previous exertions. He liked baths. Baths, especially when he was allowed to soak in soapy, scented water, seemed to calm his nerves, allowing him to relax and not feel so... bouncy and energetic. That constant feeling of being on an edge, the need to run around doing something physically exerting. Things would probably be quite different if it were not for his condition. The inner animal in him seemed to want to roam free, and the older he grew the more his instincts raged within him; hardly conducive conditions for a shut-in.<br/><br/>As was also habit, after his bath, he would dress in clean clothes and wander around the castle. While he was not allowed into the more open areas of the castle where his family conducted their business, the underground was his domain. His chambers were there, and as long as he did not show himself above, he was free to wander around anywhere. And wander he did. Past his chambers, which were pretty luxurious as far as he was concerned, the rest of the underground seemed to be sadly neglected. with dusty corridors, rotting doors, empty rooms collecting dust.<br/><br/>But at the very center of the underground chamber lay a starting spectacle. A room, with a single rose contained within a glass container. It seemed to float within the container, and it was a treasure, possibly the most beautiful thing the Prince had ever laid his eyes upon. He had stumbled upon it once, when he was ten and exploring, and his tutor had explained that it had been there since time immemorial, There was also a part of him that wondered if it was something to do with the curse that individuals in his family, himself included, had endured, which was what lead  him to make repeated trips to the room, at least once a day, to gaze upon it.<br/><br/>He certainly was not expecting company. He was the only person who ever showed up that frequently in that room, so it was a surprise to him to find, as he thrust the rotting door open, a young woman standing directly in front of the rose glass, her back to him. She did not seem to be a servant; she was not dressed in the clothes that they usually wore. He had never seen her before; how had she found her way into his spot?<br/><br/>He stepped forward, more out of curiosity than anything else. And then he took another step forward. His tongue seemed to swell twice it's size the more he contemplated speaking to this unknown woman, and in the end the only thing he could muster was a clearing of his throat.