He remembered the stories she used to read to him against his will.

Those ridiculous foreign translated books that Kurosaki Ichigo kept bringing with him from the human world.

Those silly, childish fantasies of beautiful princesses in castles, evil dragons as their captors, and chivalrous princes to the rescue.

With all those umpteenth times of hearing her read to him about the prince's bravery and the dragon's demise, he could see the light in her eyes as she got to her favorite part. He knew what was to happen every time.

The chivalrous prince always won, the evil dragon always howled in anger as it faded away, and the chivalrous prince always rode away with the beautiful princess, always into a glorious sunset.

Sometimes, as she was buried in the book, he would imagine her as a princess.

She was innocent, beautiful, waiting for someone to come and take her away. Someone with whom she could live happily ever after, as they rode off into the glorious sunset.

A beautiful princess, waiting for her tall, dark and handsome chivalrous prince upon his great white horse to fight the evil dragon.

He was not tall; he had died short - as a child - was short and a child in his hundred-fifty years of age, and was doomed to be short and a child for the rest of his existence in Soul Society. Everyone except the still-growing Yachiru was taller than him; Hanatarou was taller than him.

He was not dark. Hisagi Shuuhei was dark. Tousen Kaname was really dark.
It was his hair - the pale silver-white - that made him look a little darker, nothing to do with natural darkness, whatever the hell that had to do with anything.

He couldn't call himself handsome; not really. His early demise had blessed him with the adorable boyish features that had so many love him. Yet, his early demise had also cursed him with the adorable boyish features that had so many not take him seriously.
He was condemned to be "cute", like a rabbit was cute. Never truly in the handsome category.

He didn't ride a great white horse; he didn't ride anything. Although the idea of noble steeds in Rukongai or Soul Society wasn't that big; there were still a couple of clowns tearing around, causing trouble and riding boars. One of said clowns had participated in the invasion to save Kuchiki Rukia's life, and now his barbaric "Bonnie-chan" had eaten its way through fourth division's herb collection.
"Bonnie-chan" was neither great nor white, just morosely fat.

He didn't fight evil dragons. He wielded a dragon, but far be it from anything evil. Hyourinmaru was the picture of magnificence, pride and dignity in his eyes, as the legendary beast of ice and water soared in the frozen heavens. Hyourinmaru would never imprison beautiful princesses in castles and let some goof in armor beat him up to get her.
At least Hyourinmaru was a very pale blue, somewhat near white.

She would finish her story around this time, smile and call him by his pet name, and ask if he liked the story.

He would grunt and tell her he'd read better literature in his pre-Shinigami years.

And she would be upset, and he would comply and say it was not too bad after all, just to get that pout off her face.

Then she would bid him goodbye as she returned to her division's headquarters, cradling the book in her arms like a precious child as she continued to dream.

And he would watch her, and he would smile. And he would mutter after her - out of earshot - that he liked that story.

He could not be a chivalrous prince, but he wanted to try.