Naminé spent entirely too much time enveloped by fantasies. She dreamt of the pale castle where she was a princess, with (almost) no black-cloaked jailors to stalk her every move. A prince to call her own – sometimes it had a crown of brown spikes, but most of the time it was a curtain of midnight slate hair.
Yes, she spent too much time in her royal reveries. And she almost missed the shadow's prince that looked at her from behind a book, wishing for them (her) to get a dream come true. Never mind that it never happened at all.