In the end, Dan did end up serving Phil breakfast. He'd woken up of his own accord for once, not having to be roused again and again by servants. The sun had still been low in the sky when he'd tumbled out of bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
It was then that he'd remembered Phil's insistence that he serve him breakfast, which Dan had rolled his eyes at in the privacy of his own room. Still, he was a great friend, and great friends sometimes did what their friends requested of them. And so he had slipped out of his rooms, his hair still a mess and clad in pajamas.
"Prince," one of the guards greeted with surprise. It was the second shift of guards, seeing as no two people could be awake to guard him for the entire day. It wasn't strange for the guard to be surprised, Dan couldn't even remember the last time he'd woken up this early, the sun still chasing the night from the sky.
Dan nodded at the guards, not quite remembering their names and barely recognizing their faces. He moved to step around them and the second guard cleared her throat. "Would you like us to accompany you, Prince?"
Dan looked at her in surprise. "Oh—no, uh. I'm good. Just going to get some breakfast."
"Do you want us to call you a tray?" the second guard asked. He seemed concerned, which made sense, anyway. Dan wasn't one to wake up early, much less fix his own breakfast. But he wanted to do this for himself.
"No, I'll be fine," he assured, before shoving his hands into his pajama pockets and walking away from his rooms. He walked silently through the castle, surprised at how active it was so early in the day. Servants were running to and fro, carrying mops and brooms and tubs of hot water, trays and linens balanced on their shoulders. They gave Dan concerned looks when they saw him, all bowing their heads respectively before hurrying on their way.
"I did," someone further down the hall was insisting. "But every time I try they always come out burnt."
Someone turned the corner exactly as Dan was passing by, smacking harshly into his side. Irritation bubbled in his gut as he spun to face the offender, only to see a little girl stumbling backwards, colliding into another girl. They looked to be about eleven, both of them with their hair pulled up in the familiar fashion of the servants. They were wearing maid's clothes, both of them gaping at Dan.
"I hit the prince," the blonde one whispered—still staring at Dan—something akin to horror in her eyes. Her hand found the hand of her friend, both of them clutching the other tightly. The annoyance melted out of Dan.
"We're terribly sorry sir! Prince! Your Highness!" the girl's friend shouted, bending at the waist to bow before Dan.
"Oh!" Dan said, stepping backward in surprise. "No, you're fine. I wasn't paying attention either."
Both girls stared at Dan, something like reverence and confusion mixed in their gazes. Finally, they nodded and turned around, sprinting back the way he came.
"I thought I was going to get kicked out!" the blonde one whispered, her voice carrying down the stone hallway.
"I thought you were going to get executed!" They turned the far corner with a series of giggles, and Dan shook his head and continued on his way, a bit perplexed. He'd never really realized that there were younger people working in the castle before, though he guessed it made sense. And it wasn't as if he was normally looking either, nor was he usually out and about at this time.
He continued down the stairwell and through another long, echo-y hallway, torches burning brightly on either wall, though the sun was now filtering quite nicely through the windows. He slowed down as he approached the kitchens, suddenly feeling anxious about going in. When was the last time he'd been in the kitchens anyway? He could remember sneaking in with Phil when they were younger, usually in the middle of the night, only to be confronted by the night staff. He vaguely remembered the head of the kitchen staff at the time, short and stout, her graying hair curly and close to her head. He and Phil had often dug through the cabinets in search of any kind of snack, only to be intercepted on multiple occasions by her.
"Didn't I tell you that snacks this late aren't good for you?" she'd reprimanded, suddenly appearing with a torch in hand. He and Phil had screamed in surprise the first couple of times it'd happened, but had learned she wasn't actually there to send them back to bed soon after. She'd simply rolled her eyes when they insisted they needed a snack and then made them one herself, a platter of fruit or a warm cake. Dan had forgotten about her, he realized, as he hadn't been to the kitchens in so long. He didn't even know if she was still working here.
He shrugged off his anxiety with a shake of his head as he pushed open the kitchen door. Even if she was still here, she wouldn't be working at this time anyway.
There was a ton of activity in the kitchen, people bustling all over the place and shouting questions over the heads of their companions to someone else across the room. They held pots and pans and moved quickly and surely, absolutely skilled and assured in their actions. All of it paused when Dan arrived in the doorway, silence quickly falling upon the staff—a wary, nervous sort of quiet. Dan felt himself scowl. They didn't need to stop just because he was here.
"What can I help you with, Your Highness?" the head cook (presumably) asked, having snaked his way through the abundance of people.
"I just wanted to get breakfast for my—friend," Dan replied. Though he realized now that there wasn't really any room for him in here, and he didn't exactly know how to make anything anyway.
"What would they like?" the cook asked, and slowly the work in the kitchen resumed, though muted.
"Um. Pancakes," Dan decided. "And eggs. And bacon." The cook looked up at him as if making sure the order was done. "Please."
A blink of surprise. And then, "Of course, Your Highness. You can wait in here if you would like, or we could deliver it ourselves."
"I'll wait," Dan said quickly. He glanced around again, re-noticing the awkward atmosphere that had fallen as a result of his presence. "Out there," he added, gesturing through the door. And with that he disappeared back through the doors, retreating to the other side of the corridor. He slid onto the low windowsill, his back pressed against the cool glass, and waited. God, Phil was going to owe him after this. Dan was never going to go into the kitchens again.
Soon the cook emerged with a tray piled with food. Dan shouldered the tray, much heavier than he was expecting, and continued back the way he came. He felt irrationally embarrassed, doing the work of a servant, but he figured it was worth it once he was arriving at Phil's door, pausing before his guards.
"I got Phil breakfast," Dan said to them in explanation. They were both burly and scary looking, their faces set in glares. Dan glared back after a moment, neither of them having responded to him. They shouldn't be glaring at a prince!
"Let me in," he commanded.
"The Prince has not requested your presence," one of the guards answered.
"Then knock," Dan said. "Tell him I'm here."
"The Prince has not yet woken," the second guard answered. Dan had to resist snarling at them, his temper instantly flaring.
"Phil!" he yelled. "Let me in!" He kicked the door between the guards, making it thud loudly, before one of them shoved him roughly backwards. He stumbled, barely managing to keep hold of his tray as his head clunked into the wall behind him. He hissed as pain flared in his head, before rage flooded through his body.
"GUARDS!" he yelled, and he heard the footsteps of his guards running towards him; they were just around the corner, guarding his own rooms.
"What's wrong, Prince?" one guard demanded as he skidded around the corner, his eyes wide with worry. The man in front of Phil's room let in a small intake of breath.
"This man assaulted me," Dan said, turning to glare at Phil's idiot guards. He didn't know how Phil could stand them.
Dan's own guard was immediately stepping in front of him in a protective stance. The second one stepped forward and took the tray from him, which he thankfully relinquished, his arms aching.
"What is the meaning of this?" his guard demanded. Phil's was silent. "Answer to me, Lin of the Royal Guard!" Lin demanded. Phil's guard cleared his throat.
"We didn't know he was the prince," he admitted. Dan scoffed loudly. Sure, he was in his pajamas, and sure, he'd been carrying a breakfast tray, but come on! He was the prince!
Suddenly, the door behind the guards opened, a tired-looking Phil filling the doorway.
"What's going on? Clint? Henry?" Phil's guards stiffened.
"Your bumbling guards attacked me," Dan said loudly, peering around Lin. "Let me in. I brought you breakfast."
Phil grinned. "You said you weren't going to."
"Well I did." Dan grabbed the tray from his guard's hands and stepped around Lin, glaring at Phil's guards as he walked between them. Phil stepped back and allowed Dan into his rooms, grinning all the while.
"Would you like Elaine and I to accompany you, Prince?" Lin called, casting a distrustful glance between the royal guards of Leona.
"I'll be fine," Dan replied, before shutting the door behind him with his foot. He then transferred his glare to Phil. "Your guards suck."
Phil just laughed, taking the tray from Dan's hands and leading him through the suite. They ended up in Phil's bedroom, both of them climbing onto the bed with the tray in between them (there was enough for two, after all). "They're just a little overprotective," Phil finally answered, before picking up a piece of bacon.
"My head hurts," Dan complained. "It hit a /wall/."
"Want me to kiss it better?"
Dan threw a chunk of egg at Phil. No, getting breakfast for his friend had not been worth it. Though he couldn't deny his mood improved as they ate. There was just something unexplainable about being around his friend that made him so happy.
Phil's guard, Clint, did eventually apologize to him for shoving him. Both he and Henry, Phil's second guard, stared at him with wide eyes throughout the entire encounter, after which they scurried out, talking in muffled voices. Dan supposed it wasn't every day you met and attacked a prince, so he understood their surprise. Still, he wouldn't be forgetting the event any time soon.
"So?" Dan said finally, flicking through a book on Phil's bedside as the prince returned from the bathroom. Phil had apparently brought the book with him, as Dan didn't recognize it. "Are you gonna tell me why you're here?"
"Are you gonna stop spoiling that book for yourself?" Phil countered. It was true—Dan was spoiling it. He tended to read books after Phil had read them, every letter between them containing suggestions for new books to read. Dan couldn't help it though, he was curious.
"Lilith finally looked at her lover, her eyelids heavy," Dan read dramatically, before looking over the pages at Phil, who was rolling his eyes. "'Oh Hal,' she said longingly. 'Don't you love me?"
Finally, Phil scoffed and leaped towards Dan, diving for the book in an attempt to rescue it from his hands. Dan rolled off the bed, giggling, and sprinted out the bedroom. Phil gave chase, the two of them darting around furniture and through doorways, laughing and panting and screaming (mostly on Dan's behalf).
"Give it back, you bastard!" Phil yelled. Dan glanced behind him as he ran into the bathroom, trying to shut the door behind him. He wasn't quick enough, the door bursting back open beneath his hands as Phil exploded through the doorway. Dan gasped and scrambled backwards, climbing into the tub and shoving the book under himself as he laid on top of it.
Phil followed him easily, jumping into the tub and grabbing his arms, trying to yank him away. "No!" Dan cried. He ripped his arm out of Phil's grasp and snatched the book, only managing to fumble it. It flew to the ground outside the tum, a folded piece of paper falling out of it.
"What's that?" Dan asked, both of them coming to a pause. Phil had one of Dan's hands secured behind his back, the rest of his body pinning him to the edge of the tub. Dan squinted.
"Is that... one of my letters?" Dan asked.
Phil was silent for a moment. And then, "Maybe."
"Get off," Dan grunted. "I want to read it."
With that, Phil shoved off him and climbed out of the tub, snatching the letter from the ground and sprinting from the room. Dan followed with something sounding like a battle cry.
—
"I don't think I'll be in attendance today, Cecily," Dan said, his feet hanging over the side of the armchair. He had a book perched open on his knees and he was resolutely ignoring the servant.
"You have to go, Your Highness," she insisted. Dan leaned forward and picked an invisible piece of lint off his sock.
"I fail to see how it's important to me," Dan continued. "I'll never use it in my life. I'm always surrounded by guards anyway."
"Anyone in your position should know how to handle a sword, Your Highness," Cecily said matter-of-factly. "It'd be embarrassing if you couldn't."
Dan finally looked away from his book, only to glare at her. "I can spar just fine."
Cecily sighed, long and drawn out. "Prince Philip is going to be there." Dan's finger twitched, the page of his book scraping against another.
"And why should that convince me?"
"Do you know how long he's staying for?"
"No," Dan admitted. "Do you?"
"Of course not," Cecily said, sounding surprised that Dan had even bothered to ask. "But what if he was leaving in the next week? Or even in the next month? Wouldn't you want to spend as much time with him as possible?"
Dan grit his teeth. Annoying as it was, Cecily was right. Even sparring practice didn't sound so horrible with the prospect of Phil being there.
"I'll go," Dan said finally with a sigh. "But only because I plan to steal the sword and chop your head off."
Cecily looked utterly unfazed by his proposition of murder. "Very well, Your Highness. You're to be expected in fifteen minutes."
Dan raced to the door the second it was closed, pressing his ear up against the soft wood.
"How did you know that Prince Philip thing would work?" Bentley asked. Dan rolled his eyes, realizing the guards must've been eavesdropping while Cecily was talking to him. Though he wasn't one to talk.
"Prince Philip was here three years ago," Cecily said. "Prince Daniel was always in kinder spirits with him around. After he left, the Prince seemed to draw into himself."
Dan scoffed quietly and pushed away from the door, going to change into his sparring outfit. They could believe whatever they wanted, but Phil didn't change a single thing about him.
Soon enough he was in the sparring room, a sword dangling from his hand as he waited for his friend to arrive. Guards lined the walls, each and every one of their eyes on Dan. It was standard for them to be there; the fact that he was in a room with armed people was a hazard to his safety. Though Dan figured if someone wanted to murder him, they'd be able to do it before any of the guards reached him.
He shifted his weight from foot to foot idly, already bored. Sparring was never much fun. It seemed like it'd be a cool concept, and he'd definitely relished the idea of training when he was little, but it wasn't nearly as interesting as it sounded. It was mainly Dan getting told that his footing was wrong, that he needed to swing with his whole body, that he needed to step into his thrusts. He ended up storming out with a huff more often than not.
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Dan's attention, and he glanced up as Phil entered the room, a guard handing him a sword as he did. Phil nodded and smiled, taking a moment to say something to the guard, before he was heading Dan's way, sword swinging easily at his side.
"Ready?" Phil said.
"As I'll ever be," Dan drawled. His normal sparring teacher had agreed to let him practice with Phil today.
They both took a few steps back, dropping into a stance, before a whistle was blown and they were stepping closer together. There was a clash as their swords hit, Phil deflecting Dan's blow as easy as breathing. Dan took a step to the side, swung again, and Phil slid his blade down the hilt, flicking his wrist and snapping the sword out of Dan's hand. It went flying.
Dan gaped, staring at his sword laying feet away from him, and then back up at Phil, who now had his sword leveled with his throat. All around the room, the guards had their own swords drawn.
"Have you not practiced since I was last here?" Phil demanded. Dan glowered.
"You know I hate sparring."
"You'll have to get better," Phil insisted. "Otherwise I'll be much too bored. I need a proper sparring partner."
Dan rolled his eyes. "How long are you staying, anyway? And why are you here? You still haven't told me."
"Beat me and I'll tell you," Phil said with a smirk. Dan stalked to his sword and snatched it up, pointing it at Phil's face.
"Bring it."
They sparred for nearly an hour, Dan pressing and pushing, dodging and sidestepping, swinging and thrusting to no avail. Phil was always one step ahead of him, one step quicker than him. He danced out of the way and disarmed Dan as easily as one brought a spoon to their mouth. His fighting was fast and fluid; he barely seemed to be trying. His ease only made Dan angrier, which made his moves more wild and erratic, which made Phil's disarming of him even easier.
By the time they were done, Dan was doubled over and panting, meanwhile Phil had barely broken a sweat.
"How," Dan huffed, "the hell... do you do that?"
"I practice," Phil answered simply. "And you better start, too. You really suck."
Dan growled and leapt forward, slashing through the air swiftly. The swords were fake, but still hard enough that it would give Phil a good bruise if he could get a hit in. Phil deflected it.
Annoyance flooded through his veins and Dan threw his sword to the floor before spinning towards the exit.
"I'm done for the day," he announced, shoving his sweaty hair out of his eyes.
"Okay," Phil called after him. "Don't forget to bathe. You smell disgusting."
Dan made a rude gesture behind his back before disappearing through the door.