It had been night. So late, he had been sure he was the only one still awake. After all, everyone else in the palace would be tired from dancing. He was tired, too, for other reasons. But the stars had been so bright that night, so beautiful that it was impossible not to feel like they shined just for him.

At first he had thought the shadows in the garden were thieves. But no; they moved to freely for that. Without the same stealth. They were definitely servants of some sort, inhabitants of the castle. After all, the gates were closed at night, blocking anyone else from getting into the green area.

They were tall. Male, most likely, based on the lack of dresses. One had slightly lighter hair and clothing. The family's crest shone in the moonlight on his back. The other stood straighter, more confidently. Confident even as he leaned forward and connect his lips to the servant's.

It was that kiss that played in his head, on repeat for days.

One was a servant. That was obvious. Not only with the crest, but the willingness to become another toy.

A toy of the second. The prince, his son. His son, whom he he was sure had been finished with these shenanigans after what happened to the last one. The butler, Carlton, who he had so foolishly believed himself to be in love with.

This time, he would just have to press the idea away with a little more force.

But first, he had to find out the second identity.

? ﾟﾌﾙ?

Dan opened the door to the prince's room. He hadn't slept for three days, since Phillip had died. His arms felt like they were tied to his sides with weariness, and he knew that under his eyes were purple crescents darker than the night.

Phil was in his sitting room with the princess. The two each held a cup of some steaming drink, looking anywhere but at each other.

"Good morning," Dan chirped, grabbing some clothes from the bureau. "I hope you slept well, Your Highness. And," he handed the garments to Phil and bowed before the princess, "the same goes for you, my lady."

"Your servant speaks towards you so casually?" The future queen peered at him over her mug. "I would have to cut the tongue of my own out, I'm afraid. Their voices would get far too annoying after a while."

"Merabeth," Phil said sharply, pushing the clothes away from him and onto the table. Dan could see a purple mark on his wrist, possibly a bruise from a hunting accident. "That is enough. I appreciate your visit this morning, but for now you are dismissed."

She scoffed, brushing her long hair off her shoulder in one sweeping movement. When she stood Dan could see that she was already dressed for the day, in a long green gown that swept against the floor with every move.

The door closed behind her, so forcefully Dan couldn't hold back a flinch. He turned around to face the prince again, smile slipping from his face. It was impossible to hold it when Phil was giving him such a sorrowful look.

"What's wrong?" He asked, taking Phil's hands in his own. They had started to become distinctly more comfortable doing little things like that with each other. During the day, when both were certain no one was looking, they would steal small pecks on the cheek or forehead, or dance in the corner of the room while the troubadours sang of the greatest love stories ever told.

The prince's eyes dropped down to their interlocked hands and gnawed on his lip. "Why are you here, Daniel?" He asked, fingers twitching as though to pull away. Instead, Phil's grip only tightened, heart rebelling against mind.

Oh no.

Phil only called Dan by his full name when...well, actually he didn't. Ever. Even on the very first day they met, the prince only called him by his preferred name. Probably more than Dan deserved, with all the "Sir"s and "You Highness"s that tended to slip out of his tripping mouth.

"Because it's my job?" He said, taking the leap and pulling away from Phil. "Because," he forced himself to sound a little more confident, leveling out his chin and meeting those icy eyes. "Because you requested I stay, and because you said you wanted me to."

"You were fired yesterday."

The prince delivered the fatal blow with pity in his eyes. As if it could lessen the pain, Phil leaned forward and gave Dan a small kiss on the temple. The familiar gesture was one filled with remorse and love and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of hope that everything could still be repaired.

"Why?" Dan asked, not in the mood for romantics. "Phil, if you're uncomfortable with...us, whatever this is, I can stop. We can pretend like it never happened and move on. You're getting married soon and I could always stand to focus on my brothers and sisters. It's been tense since Phillip...well, you know. And I could find more ways to teach Daniella and Alice. It doesn't have to be this way."

"Dan-"

"I swear to God, Phil, please!" Tears streaked down Dan's face.

After coming home night after night to silence, weary from work and still not able to sleep just yet. After spending so many nights with his stomach feeling like it was trying to eat itself from the inside out from hunger. After watching his siblings cry and beg because there just wasn't enough money, and without money there wasn't enough food to even last them through the day.

After so long suffering and working hard just for a glimpse of light, he had let his feelings ruin everything.

Phil put his hands on Dan's shoulders. "Dan. I'm doing the best I can here. You have to believe me, love, I don't want you to go."

"I am not your love." Dan hissed. As much as he wished it would be that way, he was sure both of them knew it could never be.

"Love. I love you, so that makes you my love."

He couldn't respond. Phil had a way of doing that. He had words that could make Dan feel happy, even after Phillip died. Words that could make him feel like he was falling to hell, and words that just made him fall in love all over again. And then he had times like these, where he went and said something, anything, so simply and so logically that there was nothing to do but agree.

"Why?" Dan hated how much he sounded like a toddler, clinging to his mother's skirt and asking for seconds. "Why does this have to happen at all?"

"It's my father."

Of course. In some way, it was always the king.

It was always the king in the fact that Dan was poor, because the king was a pushover and let his advisers tax citizens to the point where there was even money for food or rent. It was the king in the fact that Dan's parents and now Phillip had died, for making all the good doctors work only for the palace and letting his citizens live in disease-ridden cities.

It was the king who could be blamed for every sorrow, every misfortune to ever fall on Dan and his family. And that was why Phil was nothing like him, and would never be.

Phil sat on the couch, pulling Dan down next to him. He leaned his head Dan's shoulder, overlapping their hands. "Apparently he saw us together, in the garden. It took him a few days to figure out that it was you, but when he did...well, you can imagine how pissed he was. I did my best to lessen the blow for you. Believe me, Dan, it could've been a lot worse. You could be in the jail cells right now, waiting for the man in the black mask to come for you. But your family needs you. I, well, it's no secret by now that I need you."

"You don't need me," Dan whispered. "You moved on from Carlton. I'll just be another pawn lost in your game. But it doesn't matter, because soon you'll take the queen and the king will check out and you'll have everything."

"I won't have you." Phil wiped away a tear that was making its way down Dan's face, ignoring his own. "I'd rather be a peasant, living in the dirt and mud and in a constant state of starving for the rest of my life than live one day without you. Imagine how much pain I would be in, then, to be in the audience of me and my family and see you dragged out. Thrown to the ground, brown dirt rising around you and blinding you for a moment. And then they would stick your head in the guillotine stocks and your eyes would meet mine, just for a second, before the blade comes down and I close my eyes because I don't want to see what comes next.

"You know what the worst part is? I wasn't even in love with Carlton. He was just my friend, a really close one. My father was just too paranoid and too careless with his life to even care. After all, what would it matter to him? One servant versus the...I don't even know, sanity of his son."

"Oh, Phil." Dan wrapped his arms around his back. The prince flinched and he moved them to his neck. Phil gathered the fabric of his tunic in his fist and held onto the wool like an anchor to the seafloor. He suspected that Phil wasn't going based on his imagination by this point; it was real, and he was reliving the death of his best friend.

"How did you do it?" He asked, once the prince had calmed down. "I thought the king was a mule when it came to his decisions."

"He is." Phil didn't so much as chuckle at Dan's words. In fact, he only seemed more upset. "And what physical pain I was able to lift from you I took on myself. It was well worth it, but I'm afraid now you will only suffer more. And how are we supposed to see each other now? We can't gallivant around town; that would be suicide for us both. And without you always in the palace, how could we even arrange any meetings?"

Dan pushed the last thoughts away; those were things they could figure out. If Dan could find another job before he starved to death, at least. However... "What do you mean, you took on the pain?"

He sat up, forcing Phil to move his weight from off him. The prince shook his head, obviously holding back more tears. "I-I can't, Dan. I don't want to make you any more upset."

"Just you saying that means you've automatically failed. I am very much upset, Phil. Now tell me."

The prince, hesitantly, moved on the couch so that Dan was facing his back. Taking the hem of his tunic in shaking fingers, he lifted it slightly so that Dan could see his back.

Phil's normally pale, smooth skin was marred with long red gashes, the edges of which were tinged purple. His whole back was covered in them; in some places, the cuts overlapped painfully.

"It's not so bad, really." Phil looked back at him over his shoulder. "It kind of hurts with the fabric against it, but I just remember what would've happened otherwise and it kind of helps. This will last for a while, to be sure, but death...death is permanent. Your death would've hurt far, far more."

"I'm not worth this." Dan moved his hand over Phil's back, hoping the whispers of his touch wouldn't cause him any pain.

"Maybe not to him. The king, the man who calls himself my father. But you are to me. To me, you are the sun and the moon and the stars and I would take a hundred lashes to spare you just one."

Dan wished he had been given the chance to prove the same.