[The snow fades from the path as they progress, and scatterings of pastel wildflowers mottle the grass in its place. Their sweet scent is enough to rival the princess' perfume, but none of them bloom as warmly or as brightly as the blush that spreads across her cheeks as the knight moves to charm her.

No, not the knight anymore.]

Clive.

[She tests his name on her tongue, only it doesn't come out with the uncertainty of a word spoken for the very first time. Rather, she speaks it like a breakthrough, even if her mind hasn't quite caught up to her soul yet.]

You move like you know naught but steel, yet speak with a silken tongue and gilded heart, Sir Clive.

[Birdsong rises from the trees, its music a soft blending of the song she'd hummed earlier with something distinctly Rosarian. For a moment, whilst she considers what else to say, she hums along to this tune, too, every bit as easily as she did the Northern one.]

Pray tell, what would you think to protect me from? The only danger I know now is that of solitude.