The Prince and His Peasant

127 6 4
                                    

Word Count: 2738

Summary: Dan is a prince about to be married. Phil is a peasant who has loved him for years. Based off Sleeping Beauty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was the finest prince in all of the land, and it was his wedding day.

            “Daniel, are you ready?” King Timothy of Carielle asked him, his gray hair peeking out from under his golden crown.

            “I guess, Dad.” Dan answered, still looking in the mirror while straightening his dark purple bow tie. He had his celebratory suit on, completely black except for the collar, which was the same purple as his tie.

            “Daniel, I have asked you so many times to call me sir or father.” The King said through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes in anger.

            “And I thought I asked you to call me Dan.” His son snapped back while carefully placing his black metal crown with purple jewels lining the bottom on his perfectly styled brown curls. “I already have to go through with this marriage because of you.”

            He turned around slowly and glared at his father with crossed arms and fire in his eyes.

            “Daniel- Dan. We both know the Princess is beautiful and kind. Why do you hate the idea of marrying her so much?!” The King slammed his arms against his sides in frustration.

            “Because I don’t like girls…” Dan mumbled under his breath, a frown planted on his face.

            The Prince had always known something was different about him, while all the other boys in the kingdom would chase after the girls and try to plant their little five- year- old lips on theirs, he would sit in the corner and watch them in confusion. He simply didn’t understand while the boys felt the urge to kiss the girls in their long play gowns. Six years later he still didn’t get why he only ever saw his friends grabbing the hands of the blond beauties when he so desperately wanted to fit his hands in one of theirs.

When he turned sixteen though he left the castle for the night to visit his friend who was leaving the school the next day, he had to help his family on their farm as they hadn’t had enough man power to harvest all the carrots and potatoes. Once he had finally ran to the front door of his best friend’s small shack beside the rest of his family’s, he had pulled the present he had brought out of the pocket of his long coat and knocked on the wooden door excitedly. The door opened and a broad smile grew on his face.

“Phil!” He jumped on his friend, holding him in his tan arms.

“God Dan, don’t scare me like that!” Phil yelled angrily while pushing his friend away from him jokingly.

“Oh, well then I guess you don’t want your present.” Dan stated haughtily, turning around and starting to strut away from Phil.

“Ah shut up you twit.” Phil said and grabbed Dan’s shoulder, pulling him back into the small building. The house was made of scrap wood and grass cut from the large open fields of Carielle that the two boys used to explore together when they were young. The roof was thatched and the only furniture in the shack was a bed, table, two chairs, an open hearth, and a shelf filled with sheets of paper that Dan would bring to Phil as he loved to write stories.

Phil dragged Dan back to flop down on his bed next to him. The straw mattress bounced beneath them while the blue eyed boy grabbed the small parcel from his best friend’s hands. Dan dropped his hands in his lap and watched Phil pull the tan string to open the present. He really was a beautiful man, or really boy at that point. Phil had always been the person to stay with Dan and never ran after all the girls which they actually seemed to have liked considering many of the lower class girls had offered their hands to him in years prior. But Phil never said yes, he simply sat next to Dan and politely declined their offers with a smile. Dan had always appreciated and loved him for that, but he was still really confused about his urge to hold Phil’s hand. It was practically uncontrollable; he almost had to hold his fingers away from his best friend at times.

Phan One ShotsWhere stories live. Discover now