As Iris asserted that he was still his own person, Caspian bit his lip, considering her words. It was strangely warming to hear someone else say that he was more than just a member of the royal family. Everywhere he went, people and reporters were always pestering him about subjects related to the crown. Even his friends, who probably saw him the clearest out of all the high borns in the capital, made comments about his heritage when they were together. It was hard to escape the image that came with being the king’s son, but this girl didn’t seem to care about that one bit. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a smile forming on his mouth. It was nice that [i]someone[/i] thought he was an individual.

When she offered her condolences for his mother’s untimely death, he just nodded wordlessly. Sharing the story of her passing had become like a dance. He would repeat the same details he’d shared for countless media outlets, and they would ‘sincerely’ apologize for his loss. While he didn’t think Iris was pretending to care about what had happened to the late queen, it had become habit to brush off the remarks of people whom he knew couldn’t understand what he and his father had been through. [color=#b97703][i]Although, maybe she does,[/i][/color] he thought, recalling that she had remembered something about her own mother’s death. If she’d lost a parent before too, then maybe she knew exactly what he’d experienced.

Not wanting to soil the mood, he kept the observation to himself as they stepped into the shop. He had seen the collection of antiques and art so many times that he’d lost count, but Iris looked like a kid who had just been introduced to candy. He grinned as he watched her look around, her enthusiasm as infectious as always. It was cute how enamored she was with every piece she saw, and he felt like the trip to the historic district was worth it just to see her reaction to it all.

As she pointed out a particular painting that had captured her attention, he walked over to stand by her side. It was a slightly faded oil painting of Aspiria from what he guessed was at least one or two centuries ago. [color=#b97703]“Separation?”[/color] he mused, thrown by the word she’d used. However, he didn’t have a chance to question her about it before she eagerly moved on to a nearby music box.

Deciding it wasn’t important enough to dwell on, Cas trailed after her while she explored the shop. [color=#b97703]“Well, my dad thinks the monarchy is immortal,”[/color] he answered her question with a sheepish shrug. [color=#b97703]“If he’s right, then I guess I’ll probably be remembered for whatever sort of king I become.”[/color] It was something he’d thought about occasionally but preferred not to focus on. Knowing that he would one day be the most powerful man in the country was nothing short of overwhelming. The decisions he made, both good and bad, would determine the state of Aspiria for decades.

[color=#b97703]“Honestly, I think I’d rather disappear,”[/color] he admitted, reaching up with one hand to rub the back of his neck. [color=#b97703]“It’s a lot less responsibility.”[/color] Drawing attention away from himself, he asked, [color=#b97703]“What about you? How would you want to be remembered a hundred years from now?”[/color]