They didn't arrive back at the castle until sunset. Phil had wanted to stay even longer, but Dan pulled him away from the chess board they had all set up before he could offer Phillip just one more game.
The twins had held onto the prince's legs, breaking all social barriers and begging him not to leave. Phil had knelt before them, giving Alice and Philip each a hug and promising to come back later. His eyes had met Dan's over his shoulder as he did so, as though to make sure that his words were true.
Dan would never have dreamed of stopping him.
Phil sent Dan off to find the maids, who applied the latch to the tunic with skilled hands. It wouldn't be as fancy or noble as the previous one, but, for the night, it would do.
The prince had already pulled on his trousers and boots by the time Dan, breathless from sprinting up the stairs, had come into the room. Dan threw the tunic to him. Phil caught it easily and pulled it over his head.
As all nobility, Phil wore the traditional color of purple. His pants were a simple black, which only made the lilac tunic seem more elegant. Around his waist he tied a string of gold. On Phil's head Dan placed a cap in the same color as the tunic, with a white feather that the prince complained tickled his nose. It was a simple outfit, as far as they went, but comfortable. That alone was a sign of his wealth.
The maids had given Dan his own clothing, a plain red wool tunic with a leather belt. The crown family's crest, an eagle with two swords on either side, was stamped in silver on the back. This wasn't for decoration-Dan would be a servant at the ball, nothing more or less. He would wait on the prince and be ready to work. With the crest, everyone would know this purpose and better than to bother him.
The halls were aflutter, servants dashing in and out with empty and full trays of food and wine. Some ball guests, obviously late, were making their way through the frenzy. It wasn't hard for Dan and Phil to push through; everyone stopped to bow and moved to the side to let their future king past.
He could tell Phil didn't think too much of it. After all, this was how he was raised. People served him, revered him. Phil was the next best thing to God from this ocean to the next.
Okay, third best thing. The king always came first.
Dan, however, couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Normally, as a butler, he was in the background. Invisible to the fray. Now he could feel the eyes of just about everyone before and behind him. Their whispers hit him in the back, giving him a feeling akin to sleeping on a bed of nails.
Who's that?
A butler, of course. Look at his tunic.
His hair, too! Filthy, honestly. Where was he, rolling with the pigs all day?
Must be from the slums. Lucky he could get a job anywhere. Much less one here, in the palace. He should be dead by now.
He will be soon. Did you hear about what happened to the last one?
Last one?
The last butler of course! Well, I hear he got a little too close to think prince...
No!
Yes.
Well, I heard...
I hear. I think. I see. Look at.
The same words that followed him everywhere now trailed him again. The clamor soon started up again, when it was respectful and the prince had passed, but Dan still knew what they were thinking.
I heard.
I saw.
I know the prince has picked up another peasant.
They entered the ballroom. On the walls, covered from top to bottom with full gold and lined with Greek-style columns, were hundreds of frescoes done by the kingdom's finest painters. Through glass-plated windows on one wall the constellations shone, surrounding the silver moon more beautifully than any artist could ever capture, in words or paint. From the ceiling candle-covered chandeliers hung, the only source of light in the room. Someone had covered the candles with something to hue their light blue, a symbol of peace and unity. Fully appropriate, as this would be the first meeting between Phil and his future queen.
The princess herself was not hard to see. With the dark braids curled at the side of her head and the small tiara with a single purple gem that lay against her forehead, the lady was easily identifiable as royalty. Her dress was a soft yellow (optimism, loyalty, joy), with sleeves that trailed a good foot under her wrists.
Her face was not the prettiest Dan had ever seen, but one of the most regal. A long nose, with sharp green eyes that seemed to take in everything, and pale skin, cheeks barely flushed.
She was so obviously born to be queen.
She and Phil met eyes across the room. With sudden, sweeping steps Dan found hard to keep up with, the prince met the lady on the other side. He bowed deeply, never taking his eyes off hers.
Dan, having been in contact with that gaze himself, knew how hard it was to bear. Yet the princess held his gaze with a calculating one of her own, not pulling away until the song ended. Then, she turned to one of her maids with a slight smile on her face.
Phil motioned for the rest of the couples to starts dancing. The room became a rainbow of skirts and tailcoats and makeup. The band started to play a lively tune, forcing the dancers to move quicker than Dan could've ever done himself. He found his heartbeat bolting whenever a woman was spun off the edge of her partner's arm, skirt twisting around her body until it seemed she would trip.
But no one did, and the dancing continued.
Dan crossed through the crowd to the prince, who greeted him by putting an arm around his neck. "Isn't this fun?" He said brightly. "Look at all the people."
Dan smiled. "It's wonderful, sir," he said, "what do you think of the princess?"
"What do I think? She's beautiful, I suppose. But we haven't actually exchanged any words yet, so as far as I'm concerned beauty is the only trait she poses. Sounds vain, but," Phil shrugged, "that's really what these marriages are based off anyways, aren't they?"
"Wealth, too," Dan offered. "Power. Age and proximity to the crown."
Phil gave a bitter laugh. "That's true, of course. It doesn't matter if I don't feel love for her. It doesn't matter if she or I have feeling for someone else. Especially not if it's for someone of the same gender. That simply doesn't happen."
"Sir...?"
"But love is a pleasant thing. Nothing I can afford, if I am to be a good king."
Dan blinked. "This is all in theory, I presume?"
He didn't doubt that Phil could have feelings for someone besides the princess. But he was right that love was a peasant's thing.
Even most non-royalty would marry based on who their parents chose, usually with a beautiful girl marrying up a social class. This would bring both her and her family more money. Men would try and find a woman who was beautiful and who carried a good sum of money or a fair bargain as a dowry. If a wife or husband died, convenience was always the next option. It took two to raise a family.
But for Dan, he was so low on every scale that the only thing he could hope for would be to die young or manage to woo a girl. Looks and class aside, anyone would have to do.
It was better than dying alone any day.
Still, when he found himself daydreaming about raising a family (a rare thing, usually stemming from wishing for less rowdy children to take care of), it was Phil he couldn't help but see. After all, he had been so kind with Dan's siblings. And Phil was the first person Dan had ever been close to.
But he was a boy, and it would never work. For several reasons.
Number one: how could they have children? It would be impossible, and that had always been Dan's dream, his greatest hope for the future. Not to raise his siblings, but to have his own children. To love them and watch them grow, not his brothers and sisters.
Number two: boys can't love boys. It's simply not done; everyone knows that. There were cases, of course, but those always ended in despair for both sides. It was not how God made humans to live.
Though, in some areas it was a common practice for a man to marry a man. Of course, there was usually a woman with them to fulfill the need of children, which Dan knew he would be hard-pressed to find.
And why was he even considering this? It did nothing. It meant nothing. It changed nothing.
Phil chewed on his lip, as though a similar debate was going through his own mind. Or, at the very least, one just as complicated.
"You're staying overnight, correct?" He asked finally.
Dan nodded. It would be the middle of the night before the ball ended, leaving it useless for Dan to try and head for home. Not only that, but dangerous. The street belonged to thieves at night.
"Then meet me in the gardens after the ball." Phil said, more of a plea than an order. "You are dismissed for the night, otherwise. Maybe go pay my sister a visit; I'm thinking of making you her official tutor. Keep you around."
"That would be-" Dan started, but the prince was already walking away.
Daniella wasn't hard to find. She was standing outside the ballroom door, peeking her head around the corner to watch what was going on inside.
He gave her an amused smile and she returned it with her own guilty one. "C'mon," Dan said, holding out an arm to her. "Your brother sent me to entertain you. Let's go to the nursery."
She nodded, gesturing for him to lift her on his back, as was her favorite form of transfer. Dan rolled his eyes jokingly and hoisted her onto his shoulders, making sure that only the guards (who were watching them boredly) populated the halls before sprinting on.
? ﾟﾌﾙ?
Dan finished lighting the candles and blew out the match. The room was far from well lit without sunlight streaming through the windows, but it would have to do. He sensed the princess wouldn't be awake for much longer anyways from the way that her breaths were beginning to even out.
She sat herself next to a candle, seeming mesmerized by the way the flame twisted like a dancer against the dark corners of the room. Dan chuckled at her curiosity and wiggled his fingers over the fire to show how it moved.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, touching a drip of wax with her finger. Daniella's hand jerked back in a silent protest, but she didn't cry out.
Dan guessed that she didn't see a great too many precious things in her life.
"What do you think of the princess?" Dan asked her. He had found it easy to get the princess to open up and speak. All it took was a gentle voice and a smile, and possibly a few treats stolen from the kitchen every so often.
The girl shrugged, not taking her eyes of the candle. "She seems smart. Pretty powerful, too. And I suppose she's nice enough looking, but I've seen prettier. Trees, flowers, this candle. They're pretty because they're natural; she seems manufactured, somehow."
"How could you possibly guess all this?"
"Her eyes. And I heard her talking to her maids some, too. I've been told I'm a good judge of character, whatever that means."
Dan had to agree. Quiet people, he had learned, were often watchers. They waited for things to happen, gauged the situation, and acted accordingly. Being a butler had forced him to become one himself.
Daniella leaned against him, her brown hair feeling like spider legs on his arm. "I don't want to be a princess," she whispered, eyes slipping shut. "I wish I were a boy. I wish I didn't have to marry someone just to make my father rich."
"I know," he whispered, rubbing her back comfortingly. "But you'll make a wonderful queen. You'll marry someone rich and powerful who can keep you happy for the rest of your days. All of your people will love you."
But his sympathies didn't matter, for the princess was already lost to the world.