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emospritelet · 4 years

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Homecoming - chapter 20

I’ve had the final paragraphs of this chapter written for a long time...

[AO3]

Belle was dismayed, but not entirely surprised, to find that she was feeling rather worse for wear the next morning. She had tried to limit her consumption of alcohol after almost telling her employer that she had dreamed of him being her lover, but staying sober during the New Year’s festivities was easier said than done. It was after two in the morning by the time she fell into bed with blistered feet and an aching head, but she made sure to drink a large glass of water before turning in.

Splashing cold water on her face helped to wake her up, and as soon as the hot water arrived she washed, shivering a little as she dried off. The fire was burning, but the room had not yet lost its chill, and she dressed quickly in her warm woollens. If a trip to the castle was planned, she wanted to be properly attired.

The breakfast room was almost empty except for Alice, Ogilvy and the Professor, seated by the window. She greeted Ogilvy a little self-consciously, remembering her words of the previous evening, but he was his usual warm and polite self, pulling out a chair for her and pouring her some tea, and she managed not to blush. Mr and Mrs Mills entered as Belle was helping herself to eggs. Mr Mills looked a little heavy-eyed, but his wife was bright and cheerful. Belle suspected that she had gone to bed long before her husband, and without the numerous glasses of wine he had drunk.

“It looks like we’re the only ones up so far,” said Mr Mills. “I’m pretty sure Her Ladyship said we’d be heading out before midday, though. I’m hoping the cold air will clear this head of mine.”

“I’ll spend some time with Lucy and the twins while you’re hunting,” said Mrs Mills. “I believe you said you had your own expedition planned, Professor?”

“Yes, we’re taking some horses and heading out to a nearby ruined castle,” said the Professor, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, Langfell,” said Mr Mills, nodding. “Yes, we’ve been out there a couple of times. Parts of it are still standing, enough to give you a sense of what it might have looked like centuries ago.”

“What can you tell us about the castle?” asked Belle, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Not much,” he said. “It was owned by an old family, the Beauchamps, but after the plague devastated the area, it was left to fall into ruin. I think Travers might be able to tell you a little more. There are some ghost stories surrounding the place, I believe. The locals like to scare themselves.”

“The locals like to scare my stepmother,” corrected Mrs Mills, with a grin. “They know how she likes strange tales of the spirit world.”

“What are the tales surrounding Langfell?” asked the Professor.

Belle’s gaze flicked to Ogilvy. He was poking at his breakfast, appearing at a glance to have all his attention on his food, but she was sure he hadn’t eaten more than a few bites. He looked as though he needed to sleep for another twelve hours, his cheeks a little hollow, and she wondered if he was quite well.

“Something about a witch princess,” said Mr Mills. “Or was it a witch noblewoman, one of the family? I forget. Someone was tried and executed for witchcraft, anyway, and haunts the place. Or so the locals say.”

“Well,” said Belle, taking her eyes off Ogilvy and picking up her tea. “We’ll be sure to let you know if we encounter her.”

The air was bitterly cold, but the day was bright and clear, sunlight sparkling on the new snow that had fallen. Belle clutched the pommel of her horse’s saddle, watching the back of Ogilvy’s head as his own mount picked its way along a trail that wound up from the bottom of the valley between tall pines. Alice was behind her, with the Professor bringing up the rear. They had left before most of the guests had risen, even though it was almost eleven, and she wondered how many were nursing sore heads as they readied for the hunt. Her own headache had disappeared with the clean air, and she glanced around at the snow-covered trees and rolling fells, enjoying the quiet and calm of the open air after the noise and heat of the previous night’s party.

They seemed to come upon the castle all at once, the trail winding around the edge of the woods to where the bracken-strewn sweep of a narrow hill rose up out of the trees. An old sandstone building sprawled across its summit, towers jutting up at the sky and walls snaking along the contours of the upper slope. The walls were almost down to the snow-covered tussocks of wiry grass in places, its stones carried off by locals to build houses and animal pens, no doubt. A squat gatehouse showed where the entrance to the castle had been, its archway curving over what remained of the road that led to it. Most of the keep still stood, imposing walls of sandstone flanked with two towers, with arrow slits like eyes, frowning at them in disapproval.

Belle inhaled sharply at a sudden chill rippling through her, a sense that she had seen the place before, even as she was sure she had never set foot there in her life. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, it was as though she could hear the noise of hammers and chisels, stonemasons carrying out repairs, the shouts of farmers and the honking of geese and squealing of pigs headed for the castle kitchens. Scents drifted into her nose, animal dung and sweat and sweet, clean rushes, carried in to strew on the floors.

“Are you well, Miss Marchland?”

Belle’s eyes flicked open, and the picture her mind had created vanished like a pricked bubble, jerking her back to reality with the scents of pine and leather and horses. Her heart was thumping, but she nodded at Ogilvy as he drew his horse closer. There was a hint of concern in his eyes, and she tried to smile.

“Quite well, thank you,” she said. “I was just wondering what the castle must have been like centuries ago, when a noble family lived here. It must have taken hundreds of people to supply such a place.”

“It did indeed,” he agreed, glancing at the castle. “The town of Avonleigh was back towards where Willowbrook Grange now stands, and much of the food and labour for the castle would have come from there, and the fields around.”

“It seems sad,” said Alice thoughtfully.

“Yes.” Belle pursed her lips, eyes scanning the keep. “It does look a little grim, doesn’t it? Perhaps it’s the arrangement of the windows and the lack of a roof. I daresay it was cheerful enough when it was in use.”

“No, I mean it feels sad,” said Alice. “As though whoever lived here was unhappy. Did Mr Mills say it was abandoned when the plague came through? Why didn’t the lord who lived there stay and help the people rebuild?”

“Access to gold means nothing if you have no one to pay it to,” remarked Ogilvy, a twist to his mouth. “As Miss Marchland observed, a castle needs workers to keep it going, a veritable army of labourers and artisans. The town would have had its own guild of craftsmen, the blacksmith and his apprentices. Without such skilled people, it wouldn’t have lasted long.”

“There was a great deal of societal upheaval after the pestilence devastated the populace,” added the Professor. “Many towns and villages simply disappeared as the survivors went elsewhere, and those that were left were able to charge far more for their labour. I suspect that’s what happened here. Avonleigh died, and other towns rose from the ashes with the workers that fled.”

“Makes one wonder who was around to tell the tale of the ghost-witch,” said Belle dryly. “Perhaps Mrs Mills is right. Perhaps it’s just something the locals made up for Lady Tremaine’s benefit.”

“She does seem to see an otherworldly influence in everything around her,” agreed Alice.

“We’d like you to take a look in Her Ladyship’s bedroom, Alice,” said the Professor, taking off his glasses to clean them. “I can’t say that we felt anything in there - certainly not the coldness she mentioned - but perhaps you might.”

“Alright,” said Alice. “What are we supposed to be doing here at the castle?”

“Oh, we just thought we’d have a look around,” said the Professor, his tone light. “Lady Tremaine mentioned the tale of a ghost, so there’s no harm in exploring, is there?”

A thin stream of cold wind twisted around them. Belle’s horse whickered, shaking her head, and she patted the mare’s neck soothingly.

“Well then,” said Ogilvy, his tone somewhat grim. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

They tied the horses up outside the gatehouse, and Belle glanced around as she picked her way across the inner courtyard. Kitchens are off to the left, beyond the ramp that leads to the cellar. Once a barrel of wine was dropped, and broke open in the courtyard. It looked like spilled blood.

Belle stopped dead, heart thumping hard. Her skin was tingling, crawling, as though tiny insects were burrowing beneath it, spectral fingers tugging at her hair. She licked her lips nervously, glancing around at the courtyard walls and suddenly feeling as though she couldn’t breathe.

“Miss Marchland?”

Ogilvy’s appearance at her side made her jump, and she heaved a breath, feeling her heart pound in her chest. He was eyeing her with concern, and she tried to smile.

“I’m well,” she lied. “I’m just a little - the space is a little confining, that’s all. Strange, given that it’s open to the elements. Perhaps I’m being silly.”

“What do you feel?” he asked, and she hesitated for a moment.

“A little breathlessness,” she said. “I’m sure it’s nothing. A late night and a little too much wine.”

“Here.” He offered her his arm, and she took it gratefully, allowing him to lead her around the courtyard.

“I find myself imagining what it must have been like for those who lived here,” she said, in an undertone. “The sounds and smells, the bustle and noise. I suppose the family slept in the towers, didn’t they? And ate in the hall with everyone else.”

“The hall had a great fireplace in it, to keep winter’s chill from the room,” he said, gesturing in front of them. “Long tables groaning with platters of meat and jugs of wine and ale. Musicians played, and there would be a clear area for dancing.”

Belle smiled, squeezing his arm a little.

“I can almost see it in my mind,” she said. “Imagine the noble daughter trying to climb up to her bedchamber with a head full of wine.”

Ogilvy gave her a slanted grin, his eyes twinkling.

“Imagine being a guest at the feast and trying to sneak out of the tower after you’d been in the noble daughter’s bedchamber,” he remarked, and Belle blushed as she pressed a hand to her mouth to hold in a scandalised squeak.

“Really, you are terrible!”

“If your luck held, the guards were more drunk than when you sneaked up there in the first place,” he added. “If it didn’t, you had to have your wits about you to come up with a convincing lie.”

“I think I understand why you and Lady Ella are such good friends,” she said, still blushing, and he chuckled.

“I’ve known a lot of people in my time, that’s all,” he said. “I imagine they haven’t changed much over the centuries.”

“At least allow the noble daughter enough propriety to refuse her ardent suitor,” she said primly, and his grin widened.

“What makes you think it wasn’t her idea?”

Belle huffed in pretended offence, pulling her arm from his and hearing his low chuckle as she headed towards the entrance to the keep. Part of the back wall was gone, bright sunlight shining through into the remains of the great hall. She peered into the base of one of the towers, eyes following a narrow spiral stairway, just wide enough for one person. For a moment she felt as though she was climbing, fingertips scraping against stone as she followed the treads, her steps a little unsteady and her head heavy with wine. She pressed a hand to her belly, a wave of nausea coming on her all at once, and grasped at the wall to steady herself. The world seemed to blur and swim around her, and she heaved a breath, her heart thudding in her chest again.

“Belle!”

“Miss Marchland!”

Ogilvy was at her side, a hand on her elbow and a worried look on his face. Alice was a few steps behind him, looking equally concerned, and Belle tried to smile.

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “Forgive me, I’m quite well.”

“You’re very pale,” said Ogilvy. “Do you need to sit down?”

“A moment of faintness, that’s all,” she said. “I shall be fine, I’m sure.”

“You should have eaten more for breakfast,” said Alice. “Let’s ring for tea and cakes as soon as we get back to the house. I for one would welcome it.”

“An excellent notion,” said the Professor. “You had a late night yesterday, Miss Marchland, and an early morning. This cold makes us more in need of sustenance than usual, I find.”

Ogilvy took her arm, helping her out of the tower and back into the light of the courtyard, and Belle heaved a few breaths, letting the cold air fill her lungs and leaning on his arm to steady herself.

“I don’t sense any ghosts here, anyway,” declared Alice, hands on hips as she looked around. “If there ever were any, I imagine they moved on. All I feel is that heavy sort of sadness again. And cold. But not the ‘spirits from the netherworld’ sort of cold. Just cold.”

“It’s more ruined than I thought it would be,” said the Professor absently, looking around. “Time takes everything in the end.”

“If a woman was executed here, why would she care that the steward took some stones anyway?” Alice peered through a narrow archway. “I think Mrs Mills is right; I think the locals are having a little fun with Lady Tremaine. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if her weird moaning ghost turns out to be one of the servants.”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” agreed Ogilvy. “It’s something I’d asked Hatter to make some discreet enquiries about.”

“They may not admit it to an outsider,” said Alice. “Although Hatter is very good at making friends. I have to say that I haven’t sensed anything strange in the house. Have you, Belle?”

Belle hesitated, remembering the odd sensation she had felt the previous evening when descending the main staircase. Don’t be ridiculous. That was merely a silly fancy, nothing more.

“No,” she said. “But there again I am something of a sceptic. I imagine Her Ladyship would lose patience with me in less than a day if she relied on me to listen to her tales of the macabre.”

Alice giggled.

“She ignores me completely, which is fine by me,” she said. “She doesn’t seem to know how to react to you, though. I’m not sure she approves of you being Papa and Doc’s assistant, but she’s too polite to say so. But then she sees Lady Ella greeting you like a long-lost friend, so she has to try to make conversation.”

“She said I reminded her of one of the portraits,” said Belle, with a chuckle. “That was almost all of the conversation we had last night.”

“Portraits?” asked Ogilvy, and Belle turned to him with a smile.

“Yes, I think it was my gown,” she said. “She informed me that I was the image of someone who had lived in the house before the Tremaine family.”

“Aha!” said Alice triumphantly, pointing at her. “You are the ghost! Mystery solved! Did you see the portrait?”

Belle shook her head.

“She said it was on the second floor of the West Wing,” she said. “My shoes were already pinching, I wasn’t about to go on an expedition to find a painting.”

“Well, perhaps we’ll see it before we journey home,” said Alice carelessly, and turned on her toes, arms wide. “Papa, there’s nothing here but snow and ice and freezing wind. How long are we staying?”

“We’ll leave when everyone’s ready.”

Ogilvy was looking at Belle, and she had a strange feeling that he was waiting for something. Something she was either to say or to do. Not knowing what that was, she found herself growing irritated, and then impatient with herself because of it. She glanced around at the walls of the castle, shivering a little.

“It’s interesting to look around such an old place,” she said. “But perhaps the midst of winter isn’t the best time for exploring. I’m a little cold, I confess. Alice’s suggestion of tea and cakes is a welcome one.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Then let us head back to the house.”

They set a slow pace back to the house, and it was approaching three when they arrived, the sun already setting. Tea and cakes were quickly procured, and the hunting party returned not long after, the gentlemen full of jovial banter about missed shots. The previous late night was weighing on Belle, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up with a good book, but she dressed for dinner, hoping that it wouldn’t be another late evening. The guests that had spent the night were due to leave the next day, including Lady Ella and Miss Waters, and Belle imagined they would want to rise reasonably early to catch the train.

Once the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room after dinner, Belle excused herself as quickly as she could. Ogilvy had already left, bidding the other guests goodnight, and sending her a brief smile before leaving. The Professor was deep in conversation with Mr Mills about his plans to visit London in the spring, and Belle slipped from the room, heaving a sigh of relief as she made her way upstairs.

She looked in on the children, peering around the door to find them tucked in their beds, sleeping peacefully. It made her smile; they seemed a little more comfortable in the strange house. Perhaps it was having found a friend in Lucy Mills.

Closing the door quietly, she glanced at the bell pull. She had intended to ring for Ivy to help her out of her gown, but she decided to leave it for half an hour or so. The other guests would likely still be in the drawing room, and she had intended to read for a while before bed anyway. There was time enough for her to slip to the West Wing, and take a look at the portrait that Lady Tremaine had mentioned.

Ogilvy had been desperate for some time alone since they had returned to the house. Belle’s reaction to her old home had been interesting, if somewhat inconclusive. He suspected she had felt rather more than she admitted to; her reaction to being inside the castle had certainly been noticeable. There again perhaps her sudden faintness really was just the product of a late night and too much wine. She had been delightfully tipsy when she murmured that she had dreamed of him, but had appeared mortified by the admission, and had been more reserved than usual for the remainder of the evening. It was infuriating, even as he could understand her desire to adhere to society’s notion of decorum. The gods knew he didn’t, after all.

He made his excuses to the others and left as soon as he could, walking quickly to the dining room, where Thwaites the butler was about to carry out the port and brandy that the gentlemen had shared.

“Ah, Thwaites, perhaps you can assist,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I understand that there are some portraits on the second floor of the West Wing? Perhaps you might direct me.”

“Yes, sir,” said Thwaites. “If you turn right at the top of the staircase and head along the landing until you turn a corner, you will reach the West Wing. The portraits hang in the small gallery that looks out over the gardens.”

“Good, good,” said Ogilvy, tapping his fingers restlessly. “Are they portraits of the family?”

“The family that owned the house before His Lordship’s family,” said Thwaites. “Their name was Willoughby. A sad business, what became of them.”

“How so?”

“Lord Willoughby lost much of his fortune,” explained Thwaites. “They say grief made for poor investment decisions. Some years earlier, his only daughter had been sent to an institution, where she died. Madness, I believe. Though some say it was a broken heart. A pity. She was a great beauty, as you’ll see.”

“Thank you.” Ogilvy hesitated. “Did you say her heart was broken?”

“They say she refused a noble suitor three times, stating that she loved another,” said Thwaites. “She never married this other man, though. Perhaps her parents refused the match.”

“Who was he?”

“I’m afraid Elizabeth Willoughby took that knowledge with her when she died,” said Thwaites gravely. “Would you like me to accompany you, sir?”

“No no, I’ll - I can find my way, don’t trouble yourself. If I need to ask you anything I’ll come and find you.”

“Very good, sir.”

Ogilvy turned on his heel, almost running for the staircase, his body humming with nerves, anticipation warring with apprehension as the Seer’s words from five years earlier floated through his brain. She wanted to remember you...knowing the pain it would cause...she chose what little of you she could have. Had it been Belle, this earlier inhabitant of Willowbrook Grange? Had she been doomed to misery and heartbreak, just as he had been in every life since their parting?

He reached the West Wing, his footfalls almost silent on the richly-patterned carpet, his heart thumping so hard that he could feel it in the base of his throat. The corridor seemed to stretch onward for a long time, but then he turned into the gallery, tall windows looking out over the darkened gardens. Paintings hung on the walls, differing in size, all containing portraits of people from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Ogilvy dismissed them all, hands opening and closing in his nervousness. A shaft of silver moonlight cut across the room and he stopped just outside it, breath catching in his throat as the portrait at the very end of the room filled his eyes.

It was unmistakably Belle, her hair pinned up on her head with tiny curls brushing against her slim neck. She was wearing a gold-coloured gown, cap sleeves baring her arms and a gold necklace with a fiery red stone around her neck. Ogilvy shook his head in wonder. The fire opal. She had it. She had it, and she remembered.

He had no doubt that this was the life in which the Seer had found her, and restored her memories. Elizabeth Willoughby was beautiful, but there was an air of deep sadness in her wide blue eyes, a desperate hopelessness captured forever by the artist, reaching out to him across the years. His eyes stung as tears welled up, his lip trembling.

“Oh, my love!” he whispered. “All this time, all these years I was looking for you, and here you were, back in the place we were torn apart. I hoped you’d been spared my pain, my torture. I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you. Gods, I’m so sorry!”

“Mr Ogilvy?”

The sound of her voice from behind made him freeze, his name spoken in that familiar warm tone. He turned slowly on his heels to face her, his heart thudding in his chest, his skin humming with love and grief and desperate wanting. Belle was staring at him curiously, and he stepped towards her without thinking, his soul drawn to hers, his hands reaching out to touch her, to pull her to him. She sucked in a breath as he cupped her cheeks, his fingers pushing into her hair as his mouth found hers, hungry and desperate. Her skin felt like silk beneath his fingers, and for a moment he let himself remember how good it felt to make love to her, to have his body pressed to hers, to be inside her. The taste of her was heaven, her lips soft and warm against his, and she let out a tiny moan as his tongue touched hers, his hands trembling as they stroked her hair, tears brimming over and streaking his face.

Belle had closed her eyes, losing herself in the pull of his lips and the soft, comforting feel of his mouth on hers. A small, outraged voice in the back of her mind was screaming at her to pull away and protest, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Being in his arms felt right, as though she was meant to be there. There was a comfort to it, a certainty, a familiarity, and she opened her mouth for him, rising up on her toes as his tongue stroked against hers. It made her belly tighten and pull, and she felt her hands creep around his sides, sliding over the fine wool of his jacket.

He let out a low groan, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate down through her body, and she pulled him closer, her heart thumping as he pressed against her, the warmth of his body seeping into her. His lips were sliding against hers, slippery with their saliva, warm and wet and soft, and she could feel the heat of his breath on her mouth, drawing it into her lungs, letting him fill her.

He broke the kiss, forehead pressed to hers as he tried to catch his breath. She was almost panting, her eyes wide, and he pulled back, his lower lip trembling and an anguished look on his face.

“Gods, I’m sorry!” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, forgive me.”

He released her, stepping back and shaking his head.

“Forgive me,” he muttered, and stumbled away, striding off down the corridor.

Belle watched him go, heart thumping and cheeks flushed. She wanted to speak, to call to him, to bring him back to her, but the words caught in her throat. Her skin was tingling, and she pressed her fingers to her lips, where she could still taste him. She should be outraged. She should demand his heartfelt apology. Certainly she should leave his household, to ensure her reputation was protected. What she wanted, however, was to follow him to his room. What she wanted was to kiss him again.

#fic: homecoming #ogilvelle #ogilvelle fic #my fic #rumbelle fic

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ineverhadmyinternetphase · 7 years

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Steal My Heart (steal my whole life too) 16/24

Genre: Chaptered, fantasy AU, Prince!Phil, Thief!Dan, romance, enemies to lovers, angst and fluff, slow burn (like serious slow burn)

Warnings: some violence, mentions of death (no main characters), dark magic, descriptions of wounds/blood, some hints of sexual scenes (but no actual smut), murder, dangerous situations, stealing/thievery

Summary: Captain of the Royal Guard and Prince of Morellia, Philip Lester has never been given the chance to find love. Instead, he’s run from a system that works to end class differences and improve equality for its citizens. Happy as he is to make the world a better place, Phil can’t help feeling bitter towards his ancestors for making it impossible for him to find someone who will actually love him for more than just his title, and strives instead for a life of justice and doing good - only to meet his match in the King of Thieves, a man who will change everything he once thought he knew in life. Together, they must depart on a quest to save the kingdom, and, in the process, destroy their differences and find their own form of love.

Word count: 240,000+

Updates: Sunday

Thanks so much to @botanistlester for betaing this giant monster, as she’s been super helpful and encouraging with her little comments and endless excitement. We couldn’t have done it without you <3

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil

For reference, @snowbunnylester is Phil, @ineverhadmyinternetphase is Dan

(AO3 link) (Masterlist) (Previous)

Chapter 16

Sleeping in his tree with Dan was probably the most restful Phil had ever been. He was surrounded by the scent of the forest, curled protectively into strong arms that would always make Phil feel safe, and he was warm as all hell, naked body pressed up tight to Dan's. He’d almost never felt so comfortable in his life, next to the time in his bed at the palace, and then again with Dan on his cavern floor…

Okay, so, Phil felt the most comfortable sleeping anywhere with Dan, curled up in his arms, regardless of where they were, and if he was being honest with himself, sleeping in the tree only felt the most restful Phil had ever been after the previous few days of sleeping out in the hot desert night, under the stars and the moon with no Dan asleep beside him, constantly having his sleep interrupted in order to take his turn at a watch.

So, yeah, sleeping with Dan in his tree was one of the most restful moments Phil had ever had, and he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

In fact, he only got up because of the light beginning to filter in through the leaves of their trunk, his eyes coming open slowly and blinking against the shielded brightness. A lazy grin began to stretch out over his features, and he was just about to turn and face Dan, fulling intending to wake him up with something a bit more enticing than a nice kiss, when the sound of something that did not belong in any forest, let alone here, suddenly reached his ears.

"-il! Philip!"

Phil sat up with a start, suddenly on high alert as he pulled the furs he’d still managed to steal away from Dan to his chest. Carefully, Phil squinted his eyes and attempted to peer through the leaves of their tree. It was hard to see through the thick foliage, however, even from the inside, but Phil was doing his best, unwilling to so much as move lest he give up his location to just anyone. It wasn’t helping that the voice out there sure as hell did not belong to his brother, and whoever else it might be, Phil was certain they did not belong here.

It must have been the voice that had woken him, Phil realized suddenly, rather than the light through the trees. It made more sense anyway, considering Phil was quite used to ignoring bright sunlight filtering through his bedchamber windows and onto his face. It had never woken him before, so why now?

Because it hadn’t been the sun, of course. It had been the sound of an unfamiliar, unwelcome voice calling his name in a time so dangerous for Phil’s family that he wasn’t sure he could trust anyone but Dan.

The worst part was, the voice was getting closer, still shouting Phil’s name like they had no care in the world who should hear, their tone and intensity both strangely careless and foreboding. A shiver ran down Phil’s spine that sparked him with fear as the sound of footsteps grew closer.

Did Phil know this voice? It was that of a man, he was almost certain, but that wasn’t near enough information to build on. All Phil knew was that this person was an idiot, if they thought Phil would come at a call of his name.

If the man was lucky, he wouldn’t be killed by those who’d seek to prevent Phil from completing his mission - and that thought alone sent another shiver of fear down Phil’s spine, because that was a danger he’d yet to fully anticipate. Should the wrong person hear of his mission, surely, they would want him dead before he could cure those affected by the curse…

Just as the thought occurred to Phil, the sharp twang of a snapping tree branch echoed through their shelter, and Dan’s eyes popped open wide from beside him.

The sound of something moving around outside woke Dan instantly. He sat up straight, hand inching for the dagger he kept under his pillow at all times, eyes shooting to the exit of the trunk where the sound of a snapping twig, footsteps, and a voice was coming from. It wasn’t a voice he recognised. In seconds, he was upright, knife in hand, and flicked Phil a glance only to find his prince had already come awake, and was staring out of the trunk with a face white as a sheet. Dan turned to stare guardedly outside once again, before quirking a brow at Phil, nodding his chin forward as if to ask what was going on.

Phil had nothing in response to this except for a shrug, and he shook his head, trying to indicate that he didn’t know who was out there, calling his name.

Creeping out of the furs, not wanting to make too much noise, and still afraid to move a muscle, Phil got dressed as quickly as he could make himself, not wanting to be vulnerable to an attack, but not wanting to draw attention to his and Dan’s shelter either.

Dan moved with Phil, slowly pulling his clothes on. The fleeting thought that he was exceedingly unhappy this unwelcome interruption had ruined what could possibly be the best morning with his Prince so far crossed his mind, but he had to keep his thoughts trained on these matters right now, and possibly keeping Phil safe from whatever was about to attack them, so instead, he shoved his thoughts away for another day.

For now, Dan just needed to be on his guard.

It was just as Phil was finishing changing that the footsteps from outside managed to grow closer still, rounding the back of the tree hollow the two sat in, and breaking yet more twigs, leaves and bracken, all of which crackled under the intruder’s foot.

Suddenly, there was a break in the leaves, a low curse, and then a paranoid squeal, and Phil just managed to catch sight of the man’s face enough to recognize him at the same time as the man fell forward, and crashed into their shelter.

It took all that Phil had in him not to make a noise, not to react in anyway whatsoever, either to the knowledge of their pursuer, or their collision with their shelter, even more unwilling than ever to give away his location quite so easily now he knew who was looking for him.

The Duke. The man who’d intended to threaten Phil into a courtship with him, who had spiked fear into Phil’s heart. Someone dangerous.

Why was he here? How had he even found out where Phil had gone? How long had he been trailing after Phil and his thief? Phil had no idea, and the fact that he did not, made the terror rise all anew.

Racking his brain, Phil stepped back carefully as the Duke cursed to himself a few more times, and then finally shoved away from the tree he’d fallen into before moving off once again, the litany of calls after Phil’s name echoing through the forest once again.

There was no time to talk, and yet, as Phil turned to Dan with terror in his eyes, he knew Dan would be angry with him for this.

He needed to go. “Trust me,” he whispered to his thief, and then, before the man could speak a word, Phil dropped to his knees and rolled through the entrance of their wood in a burst of speed that kept him tumbling until he found his footing once again.

Dan reached out angrily, grasping for the edges of Phil’s cloak before he could disappear, but too late. Phil had already rolled out of their little shelter and disappeared into the foliage after the intruder.

“Trust me,” Dan hissed between his teeth, angrily digging his knife into the soil ground of their camp. “That isn’t fair.” It was plain cruel, in fact, for Phil to demand trust from Dan, something he must have known Dan would give him, before disappearing off into danger. He didn’t know who this intruder was, Phil could be walking into anything right now.

But Phil had asked for his trust. Dan couldn’t betray him, much as he was itching to go out and follow Phil, to make sure he was safe. He settled for crouching near the edge of the tree trunk, right by the exit, bending to peer through the foliage and watch as his Prince walked into what was quite possibly a trap.

Phil was surprisingly hard to see. He blended in well with the surroundings, clearly used to being in forests and much more comfortable in these surroundings than Dan. Another reason to trust him, Dan supposed, but his grip didn’t let up any on his dagger as he watched Phil stride purposefully forwards, right to where the intruder was searching another tree trunk.

Dan’s expression, however, soured the moment he took in the sight of their unwelcome stranger.

The Duke. The same Duke that Dan had thrown his dagger at, the one who'd made unwanted advances on Phil at the bachelor party.

Before Phil knew it, he was moving swiftly forward after the Duke, stopping just on the other side of the shelter he knew was behind him so that he’d be in sight of Dan, and straightened his shoulders to allow him to stand proudly in the face of danger. Not wanting the Duke to wander off any further than he already had, Phil called out, “Duke Hemsworth,” after the man, and waited patiently for him to turn around.

When he did, his eyes took on a dark look, and the exhausted expression on his face morphed into one of pleasure. There was nothing about the look that made Phil feel even a moment of peace.

On the other hand, everything about the Duke appeared bedraggled. He was covered in dirt and sweat unlike even Dan and Phil themselves, his hair matted down in direct opposition to the last time Phil had seen him at the party all done up. His clothes had tears in them, his pants alone not suited to life outdoors, and his shirt ripped at the sleeves to help the Duke endure the hot sun of the desert.

He did not appear to have survived the travel well, and yet… his expression belied triumph.

“It may serve you well to quit shouting my name, lest you want thieves on our tail,” Phil continued, when the Duke began making his way back towards where Phil stood. “While I applaud your aptitude in not calling my title, there are still many who might guess at who I am from my name alone.”

Slowly, Phil lifted his arms to cross them over his chest, showing off the curved dagger pressed tight against his arm. He might have flexed a little, but no one could prove that just then.

When the Duke did not respond, other than to bow his head lightly and continue to smirk, Phil merely quirked a brow and drew himself up taller still.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

Dan peered out through the leaves, his frown ever deepening. So Phil knew who this was, too. Dan hoped that meant that Phil would be on his guard.

The question seemed to strike a nerve, as the Duke recoiled as if he were not quite sure what to say, as if he hadn’t fully planned out how to handle this encounter, and he stopped a few feet away from Phil, dropping a hand to his waist and to the hilt of the sword there. It had to be heavy, and Phil found himself surprised to still find it sheathed there.

Phil didn’t move, as he waited for the Duke’s answer, but his gaze did flicker to the hand the rested there, and the bandage wrapped tight around the wound from the dagger Dan had thrown so many nights ago, now. A slow, pleased smiled curved at Phil’s lips.

“When I heard of the plague on the Castle, my lord, I found your parents as fast as I could,” the Duke began, his voice going high and false as he tried to rearrange his expression into something more compassionate. Phil wished he could speak up and inform the man that his best attempts to do so would prove nothing, as Phil already knew… he was dangerous.

“They’ve put the entire Palace on lockdown, and very few were privy to information as to why, and who the witch was, or where you were; but your brother… He understood my plight, my desire to do anything and everything I could to protect you and your family. He filled me in, explained to me what’s been happening… Cornelia…” the Duke explained, his voice fading as he ducked his head and shook it at the same time.

Slowly, the hand not at his waist raised up to cup over his mouth.

“Terrible,” he said, when he managed to pull it back away again. “Just terrible, her fate. And our Prince, on a mission to fight a dragon, all on his own. I couldn’t just leave you to such a mission! Surely, you thought to bring someone with you? But no, your brother assured me you were alone, and I could not believe it! I despaired for your safety,” he said. Slowly, he took a step forward, but Phil merely clenched his fingers around his own arms, threatening, and watched as the Duke stepped back from him, bowing his head once more.

Dan’s fingers tightened around his dagger. As if he ever would have allowed Phil to go after the dragon on his own, like this Duke was daring to insinuate. Only, of course, the Duke didn’t know about Dan at all, did he? Not beyond the King of Thieves, at least, and Dan was sure he’d stolen something from this Duke’s family before.

He wondered idly how the Duke would feel to know that said King of Thieves was crouching not three feet away.

At least Dan still had the element of surprise, and he was ready to move the second things looked like they were going downhill.

“What about the curse?” Phil asked, accusatory. “Did you not fear you would carry it, spread it among our people?”

The Duke cowered before him, but even Phil could tell it was false, and he nearly drew his dagger right then and there, demanding to be told the truth, but he did not.

His mind was still reeling with the fact that it had been Martyn who’d sent the Duke after him, the fact that his brother had entrusted a stranger to a mission to save his beloved. Why? Why would Martyn do that? It just didn’t add up.

“The King made sure of it I was checked out before I left, cleared of all traces of the curse. I would not have left otherwise. That is why I was so late in following after you, and yet, I still can’t believe how quicky you traversed the desert...” the Duke said.

That brought Phil up short. His father had been a part of this as well? Surely, surely the Duke was lying. There was no way his father would have ever allowed someone so untrustworthy as Duke Hemsworth to join in the mission to save Cornelia, not when what Phil was doing stretched far beyond her life?

Unless… unless the King and Martyn knew something that Phil did not, and they wanted him to find out.

He bit his lip, and did his best not to let any of his thoughts flash too clearly across his face.

Nodding curtly, Phil inclined his head for the Duke to continue.

“I am here to offer you my assistance,” he said, “With the full intent of helping you to save our people. And… maybe,” he said, looking up at Phil from under his eyelashes, “In the hopes that you will take my offer of courtship as serious as I intend it to be.”

From within the tree branches, Dan growled.

Phil’s eyes narrowed, and he was quick to put a hand up, making it clear from the action that he was trying to show off the bracelet that still adorned his wrist, the one that declared that he was already being courted, and that he wanted nothing to do with any other. The Duke, for his part, did nothing more than give the item a cursory glance, eyes narrowing at the sight of the new ring, and then moving about to every side of Phil.

Phil knew before he said it what he was about to bring up.

“I see that you are alone,” the Duke said. “Where might your other suitor be, then? Have you insisted they remain home, or were they merely too weak to join you on your mission? I assure you, my Prince, that I would never allow you to put yourself in danger above me. If I may enter my name for your consideration in matters of the heart, I promise you equality between us. You’ll never have to face anything on your own again.”

Dan snarled. This Duke was daring to insinuate that he was somehow a better suitor than Dan - and ok, that may be true seeing as he wasn’t a wanted criminal, but Phil belonged to Dan. There was no way Dan was letting some upstart Duke show up and ruin everything that had finally, finally been settling between them.

Even worse, the Duke was implying that Dan had allowed Phil to go on this life-threatening mission alone. The bastard. Dan hated him beyond everything else, then, and dug the dagger deep into the soil by his foot. He’d rip apart this Duke if he thought he could get away with it.

Dan had just been starting to feel secure about a future with Phil. He wouldn’t let that end now.

Dan would love to stride out there in his cloak and make it more than apparent to the Duke exactly who was courting Phil, in all his glory as the King of Thieves, but he knew he had to play it smarter than that. Something that would ensure that this Duke would not be bothering Phil again, because Dan had no doubt that this Duke would return, if he had any doubts that Phil wasn't taken.

Perhaps the time to become Daniel Howell had arrived sooner than expected.

Still seething, Dan ditched his cloak, and instead slid his dagger into his belt. He wanted to be threatening, yes, but not enough to make the dots join up. Part of him was terrified of showing his face, but this had to begin at some point. He loosened his tunic, opening it a little at the neck to show off the marks he sported at his throat, and ruffled his fingers through his hair to make himself look rumpled. The curls would stay - he was Daniel Howell now, not the King of Thieves.

Then, Dan strode out of the tree with all the swagger and confidence he could muster.

Shooting a snide glare at the Duke, he went straight to Phil's side and laid a hand on his arm, announcing loudly, "Ah, there you are! I was wondering where you'd disappeared to when you left the bed empty." Dan grinned at him. He ran his hand down to trap the bracelet on Phil's arm, the ring on his own finger glinting silver in the dawn sunlight. Dan drew himself up and finally turned to the Duke, looking down his nose at him, filling his tone with as much derision as he could. "And - uh - who is this gentleman, Phil?"

Phil absolutely froze when Dan quite suddenly appeared beside him then, not even giving Phil a chance to defend him from the Duke’s unwanted opinions. What surprised Phil more, however, was the fact he was wearing nothing to hide his appearance from the Duke. In fact, he was more undressed then he was dressed, with his shirt collar undone to show off the possessive marks Phil had left all over Dan's neck and throat. Phil also hadn't missed the way Dan moved to show off their gifts to each other, pressing his fingers tight around Phil's wrist. Dan couldn't have made it more obvious who Dan was to Phil if he'd tried - scratch that, Phil wasn't sure he wanted to know what Dan would have done had he felt a more pressing need to claim Phil right then and there in front of this man who he clearly already didn't like.

Doing his best not to let the fear show that Dan’s identity would be uncovered, Phil turned his haughty gaze from the Duke fully onto Dan, not even the least bit surprised to find his thief glaring at the man in front of them. Phil’s own eyes went soft, however, both for show and because the idea of Dan being so possessive of him somehow warmed his heart. His thief would always be there to protect him, that much was clear.

"I'm sorry I disappeared so suddenly, my love," Phil murmured, just loud enough for the Duke to hear, and leaned in to kiss Dan's cheek.

Dan’s eyes widened a little at the action, at the word. That word had still not been properly used between them, and for Phil to act as softly as he did, leaning in to kiss Dan’s cheek, was something extremely new. Dan guessed it was for show, of course, and he was reassured that Phil at least didn’t want the Duke to be after him, but… part of Dan also wished the first time he’d heard Phil call him love could have been for real.

This was still better than having to watch the Duke advance on Phil without being able to do anything, though. Phil belonged to Dan, and Dan alone.

Dan's fingers tightened around Phil's wrist, causing the metal of the bracelet to dig into his arm. Fighting not to wince at the pain, Phil turned back to the Duke.

"Dan, this is Duke Hemsworth of the Michebell line. He hails from the Southern Mountains. Duke, this is Daniel Howell, my partner,” he introduced, gesturing grandly between the two of them with as sweet a smile as he could manage. Trying to control the expression, Phil then offered the Duke a slight grimace. “I am sorry if it comes as a disappointment to you, Duke, but our courting has progressed far beyond the point of him being a mere suitor. We've exchanged gifts, and have devoted ourselves to each other," Phil explained, though he wasn't sorry at all and he was sure his voice belied that.

The Duke and Dan stared each other down. Obvious distaste wrinkled the Duke’s nose as he ran his eyes down Dan’s form, and Dan suddenly felt a little underdressed. Nothing he owned to wear would ever match the finery this Duke dressed himself in - riches that could be put to much better use in the market, if only Dan could find some way to steal it - but he could see that the Duke was sizing him up, and didn’t find him to be much competition at all.

Dan seethed softly, tightening his grip around Phil.

“I see,” was all the Duke said, his tone unimpressed.

"As you said before, Daniel and I are equals, and he makes his own decisions," Phil insisted, quirking a brow to show that the Duke had crossed a line with him earlier on, that he’d gotten it completely wrong, and Phil was merely given him a conscientious out by pretending that the Duke had not implied that Dan was anything less than equal. "He has chosen to help me save my family, my people, the palace. There is really no need for you here, though I give you my gratitude for making the long journey out here. Our mission becomes more dangerous the more people get involved,” he continued, bowing slightly to the Duke in a manner befitting his station. As Phil straightened back up, he did his best to tower over the small frame of the Duke, who really wasn’t that much shorter than Dan and Phil themselves.

Clearing his throat, Phil shifted so that he could swipe a hand across his brow, and then moved his hand subtly down to the dagger at his waist. It was a clear threat, and he could see the Duke follow the movement with keen eyes.

“The healers may have released you, Duke Hemsworth, but it is still not safe for you to be out here. If the cure comes, and the healers have missed something, you will not survive," Phil insisted.

He was doing his best to make it clear that Phil had no need for the Duke here, that he was merely a detriment to his plants if he stayed, and that Phil would only dislike him more if he insisted on being involved, his father and brother be damned.

How dare they send the Duke to Phil, for any reason?

The Duke didn't seem to take that hint, however, and Phil watched as his hard eyes scanned over the gifts adorning both men once again, and then over Dan himself, gaze lingering at his neck. Phil had to fight not to flush.

Dan, however, bared his neck with pride.

"I see," the Duke began. "A commoner, then, as your brother, father, and grandfather before you?"

Dan growled. A commoner. He’d always hated that word, but he hated it even more now, thrown at him like an insult.

The Duke continued, quirking a brow at the two of them, "I find it difficult to believe that the Prince whose choices matter so much has chosen to live his life with a commoner. Surely, you're aware that the kingdom requires royal blood to stick to royal blood to some degree?” he asked, making a shot in the dark that Phil had never once even considered. Why his heart started beating faster in response, Phil did not know. “King Lester's brother, your Uncle, married a Duchess, if I do recall, for that matter alone. I think, if you'd only give me a chance, dear Phillip, that I could prove myself more worthy of you,” the Duke added, staring at Phil coyly.

Phil could feel Dan's anger at the Duke’s implication in the way he gripped tighter to Phil's wrist, taking a very obvious step closer to the Duke that Phil stopped by stepping in front of him. Unfortunately for Phil, this also brought himself closer to the Duke as well, and he tried not to let the grimace show this time.

Instead, he cleared his throat, and leveled a hard glare on the man in front of him.

"You are overstepping boundaries that you should not be overstepping, Duke. I am still your Prince, and I have made my choice clear. I apologize if my answer is not what you were hoping for, but I do not accept your request to court me."

Phil could feel Dan seething behind him, and he did his best to ignore it, staring down the Duke instead, whose gaze was dark and narrowed. Phil could almost feel what was coming next -

"Allow me to assist you on your journey, then,” the Duke offered grandly, bowing low. “Give me one chance to prove my worth to you, and then, if you still pick your… commoner," he spat, "I will leave you be."

The end of his threat was corroborated by the Duke’s swift movement back upright, a lecherous grin tugging at the corners of his lips that told Phil all he needed to know; he could not refuse an offer such as this.

Were he to, his courtship with Dan would be preyed upon like no other.

It was not for the courter to prevent the one being courted from being open to other choices, and until Dan and Phil were betrothed, anyone could and would insist on being given a chance to prove their worth. Most Princes were lucky enough that the royals did not question their choices. Phil… was not so lucky.

Gritting his teeth, Phil merely bowed his head in acquiescence, desperate to prevent anything from getting in the way of his affair with Dan.

Perhaps it was for the best anyway… The King and Martyn had sent Hemsworth to Phil. Surely, there had been a reason.

Gritting his teeth, Phil bowed his head in acquiescence.

"Fine, then, Duke, but you will do as I command."

Dan stopped short at the words that fell from Phil’s lips. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing as he stared at Phil by his side, forgetting the presence of the Duke for a moment and allowing his mask to slip.

He must have heard that wrong. There was no way Phil had just agreed to let the Duke come with them on the trip? Not when there was absolutely no good reason for it. Regardless, Dan had made it far too obvious that he was more than a mere suitor to Phil.

...Wasn't he?

Suddenly, Dan was feeling very insecure. What if Phil allowing this Duke to come with them was actually Phil weighing up his options? What if he actually wanted to try out the Duke instead, see if he was a better fit than Dan? Would Phil play that kind of game? Dan hoped not, but he knew nothing of the way the higher classes socialised. What if all of Phil's words to him had been part of some ritual Dan didn't know about, and the Duke was now coming along as a threat?

Dan suddenly felt very hollow.

His eyes narrowed. He couldn't - wouldn't - believe such a thing of Phil, not after the things they'd shared and seen and experienced together. Besides, Phil had told him Dan was his first - and Dan believed him, could tell from Phil's reactions that he'd never been with anyone else. He couldn't believe that Phil would be so fickle.

Except the Duke was staying, now, it seemed.

Well, that didn't mean Dan had to be polite.

"I'm sorry your long journey has proved so unnecessary," Dan said to the Duke as lightly as he could, his tone walking the line of malicious. He released his death grip on Phil's wrist and instead slid his hand down to interlock their fingers. "As you can see, this mere commoner has well and truly captured Phil - sorry - Prince Philip's heart. But if you want to stick around, I'm sure that's ok, seeing as Phil said so." Dan said the last through gritted teeth, sending Phil a dangerous, sidelong glare.

Phil wasn't an idiot. He could tell already from the murderous intent Dan was giving off next to him that he was not happy about Phil agreeing to let the Duke stay. Phil had a terrible feeling in his chest that Dan didn't fully understand how courting properly worked, and as Dan reached down to thread their fingers together, squeezing hard, Phil tried to hide his wince.

It only became more apparent how pissed off Dan was when Dan turned a sidelong glare onto Phil after bad-mouthing the Duke in front of them. Phil didn't react, however, other than to blink wordlessly at the Duke who was staring between the two of them suspiciously. It was clear he was annoyed by the fact that someone other than him had won Phil's heart, but there was nothing he could do about it if Phil had his way.

And Phil would have his way, because there was no one who could convince Phil to leave his thief, not even if it meant saving one of their lives, because even then, Phil would go to Dan first before making a decision as stupid as giving up the love of his life.

He just hoped that Dan would know that.

It seemed so far from Dan's reaction that he might not be as secure in their relationship as Phil would have preferred. He would need to do something to change that, and fast, but for now. Phil had a terrible feeling the Duke was not going to leave them alone long enough for Phil to reassure his thief verbally.

Dan turned back to the Duke with a charming smile. "It'll be useful to have someone who can spread word to the people of mine and Phil's happy relationship! I'm sure you'll be witnessing plenty."

The Duke spluttered. He went so red in the face that Dan grinned in amusement, watching with delighted eyes as the Duke straightened up and fixed Dan with a hate-filled glare. The hand he used to adjust his tunic was bandaged, and Dan’s eyes zeroed in on it with a smirk.

Trying not to flush over the implication that Dan was most likely going to be all over Phil in front of his Duke, Phil squeezed Dan’s hand back in his, and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by his thief before he could. Phil knew before the words were out of Dan’s mouth that this was going to be something they’d both regret.

"Also, I should apologise for that." Dan nodded idly to the bandage on the Duke's wrist, no doubt from where Dan had thrown his dagger at the bachelors party so many long days ago, now. "I tend to be a bit - dramatic - when I point out what is mine."

As the words left Dan’s mouth, Phil could feel dread filling his stomach like never before, and he had to work to keep the flush of anger and terror from filling out his cheeks. His fingers turned into claws on Dan’s hand, but i didn’t seem to matter, because Dan was clutching Phil back just as tight that he could feel Dan’s anger through his skin.

Fuck, Phil thought. I am so, so fucked.

It was clear that Dan’s words held more than a modicum of rage, and the Duke seemed to recognize this just as surely as Phil had, if his expression was anything to go by. The man flinched back a little, but he didn’t leave, his fingers tightening around his tunic, clearly dying to hide the wound on his hand.

"My thanks for your generosity, my Prince,” the Duke suddenly said, turning to bow to Phil and ignoring Dan completely, much to his chagrin. “As ever, your wish is my command - for whatever you may desire." The flirtatious tone to his voice couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

Oh, Dan was really going to hate him.

Before anything else could happen to make this situation any worse than it already was, Phil was once again moved to step between the Duke and Dan, and finally interrupted their little squabble with instructions of his own.

"We've got a bridge to build if we want to cross that river before nightfall. If you want to be of use, Duke, then I'd like it if you could fetch me some wood to get started. We’ll join you shortly," he dismissed, and then turned back to Dan, his movements precise and measured to show the Duke that he had been well and truly dismissed.

Knowing that the Duke would be listening, that Phil was not safe to speak his mind, or explain anything to Dan, Phil did the only thing he could think of and cupped Dan’s cheeks softly in his hands, drawing him forward and then dragging him into as heated a kiss as he could manage. Back turned to the Duke, Phil couldn’t tell if he had left, but it didn’t matter.

In this moment, all that mattered was Dan. If Phil couldn’t tell Dan how much he meant to him, if he couldn’t promise Dan verbally that this meant nothing, then he would just have to show him.

Phil kissed Dan with all the passion in his heart. He meshed their mouths together as close as he could, pressed his tongue in alongside Dan’s own, and made love to him that way. He did what he could to replicate the closeness of last night, of the nights before that, of all that they’d shared between them, just to prove to Dan that nothing had changed.

That nothing would change.

The Duke meant nothing as anything more than a mere disruption to their peace that Phil would make sure to dispose of, one way or another.

Even if that took to the end of their journey.

Phil kissed Dan with everything he could, and tried his best to beg Dan to trust him.

Dan was more than relieved when Phil pulled him in for a slow, passionate kiss, for quite a few reasons. One, it was nice to see the Duke looking faintly disgusted behind them, and Dan would have cheered if he wasn't a better person. Two, Phil was kissing him, and that was always something that Dan could get behind.

But third - and most importantly - it told Dan that Phil still wanted him, still cared about him, at least on some level. That knowledge allowed Dan to relax marginally. The cold fear that had started to grip at his heart that maybe Phil actually didn't want him rapidly dissipated when he had Phil's lips pressed to his, his hands cupping Dan's face to hold him like he was fragile, something precious.

Dan could get used to that feeling.

By the time Phil had drawn away, they were both panting harshly, and the Duke had only just turned with a huff to go on his way.

"You have to trust me," Phil insisted quietly, the minute he thought they might be safe, even for just a moment, even for just this much. "Do you trust me?" he insisted, eyes soft and begging as he stared at Dan with all the love in his heart projected in his eyes.

He just hoped that Dan could read it.

That look, when Phil was staring up at Dan with beseeching blue eyes, was almost impossible for Dan to resist. As much as he didn't want to, Dan could already feel himself melting. There was very little he wouldn't do for Phil, especially when he used this look. It didn’t help much to calm the anger boiling beneath his veins, or even under that, the fear that maybe he wasn’t enough for Phil, that some highborn like the Duke might actually be a better suitor…

But Phil was asking for his trust. How could Dan not give it to him?

"Alright, fine," Dan griped, his expression making clear how very unhappy he was with this whole situation. Just the knowledge that the Duke, this awful human who stood for everything Dan hated still about the upper classes, who dared to look down on Dan like he was nothing, would be around for a while longer, still made anger burn in Dan’s eyes.

But Phil came first, and if, for some hellish reason, Phil thought it was important for the Duke to be here, then Dan would just have to trust him and go along with it.

Not that he had any intention of being polite to him. And Phil had better tell him everything as soon as they had a second to themselves.

"Of course I trust you, Phil,” Dan muttered, “I always will. But you have got some explaining to do the second we have some time to ourselves - which had better be happening, by the way, I wasn't done with you yet."

Phil almost immediately relaxed as Dan reassured him that he trusted him, and despite the unhappy look on his face, Phil knew they would be okay. For now, Dan would trust him, and after, Phil would explain everything to his thief. He just needed that little bit of time to prove to both men where his heart lay, to fill the social graces that forced Phil to allow the Duke to stick around and show his hand.

Grinning mischievously, Phil wrapped his arm around Dan's waist and drew him close. "Oh, don't worry, my love," he said, having noticed the reaction those words had garnered for Phil earlier. His lips hovered over Dan's. "My Dan," he added quietly. "I wasn't done with you yet, either," he purred, and then he was kissing Dan once more for good measure, just as heated and passionate as before.

Dan’s eyes fluttered closed, unable to help it when he had Phil calling him such sweet things. It surprised Dan, the way those words seemed to have the ability to make him melt. He’d never classed himself as a romantic before, but with Phil.... everything was different.

He leaned into the kiss, gently threading his fingers through Phil’s hair to better angle him, and kissed him softly, slowly, pouring all the emotions he couldn’t quite vocalise yet into his actions instead.

Maybe it was Phil's fault, maybe it was Dan's, but somehow they ended up with fingers tangled in each other's hair once again in a very intense kiss that Phil hadn't fully intended to let happen. He was making small huffing noises against Dan's lips, enjoying the attention far more than he could ever say, when the Duke suddenly cleared his throat from behind them, and when had he made his return to them?

Flushing darkly, Phil detached his lips from Dan’s with a surprised gasp, and whirled around to face the Duke. Clearly, Phil had lost track of time when he’d been so busy with his thief. The Duke, meanwhile, had apparently begun collecting the wood Phil had asked for, and was wearing an expression of import that implied he thought the two of them should be doing the same.

Refusing to wipe his mouth or react in any other way to show just how embarrassed Phil was to have gotten so caught up in Dan’s mouth, Phil merely nodded at the Duke.

“Yes. Very good. More just like that, thank you. I’ll be joining you shortly. The river is just down there, if you could set up a camp.”

Dan grinned. He hovered behind Phil, watching with delight as the Duke glared between them, obviously greatly put out at their make out session and just how long it had managed to stretch out. Well, served him right for wanting to stick around - Dan had warned him. He couldn’t help himself from sticking his tongue out at the Duke.

The Duke paled a little, probably because he’d never seen someone act like such a commoner before. Screw him. Dan had his Phil, not the Duke, and that was all that really mattered.

Pulling himself together, the Duke nodded curtly at Phil, ignoring Dan completely, but when Phil turned around, it was to find his thief was grinning smugly at the Duke. Phil couldn't even find it in himself to berate his thief. He'd seen women fight with Cornelia for Martyn's hand, after all; this was far from abnormal behavior between two suitors, and if the Duke wanted to win, he wouldn't speak up about the ways that Dan behaved.

Not that the Duke had any real chance of winning either way, but Phil had a feeling they both knew that too blatant bad-mouthing of Dan would give Phil all the permission he needed to dismiss the Duke completely. This was his one shot, and Phil knew better than to believe the Duke would give it up that easily.

Once he was certain the Duke was gone, Phil ushered Dan towards their camp.

"I don't want him in there. I don't trust him. For all I know, he's here to get me killed so that my family will die without the cure and he has a chance to take power. He cannot see the entrance, do you hear me, Dan? If I can avoid it, I don't want to have to kill him, but I'm not risking our lives either,” Phil insisted, stopping just outside the entrance to turn and grip tight to Dan’s shoulders. He needed his thief to understand this, needed him to do as Phil asked without asking questions for now. As it was, Phil had no idea what the Duke was doing here, or why the King and Martyn had sent him. All he knew was that they were playing a very, very dangerous game here.

“Get me the rope I asked you for, and any other materials you think we might need for the day, and then, when you're sure the coast is clear, return to me at the river,” he said.

Dan looked at Phil with surprise at those words. The brief mention of killing the Duke startled him a little - not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but more that Phil would be ok with it. That was good, another thing they wouldn’t have to fight over, and even though Dan still had no real idea why the Duke was even staying with them when Phil could have just sent him off without issue, the promise of a future explanation was enough to placate Dan. For now.

“Alright,” he murmured his assent, leaning in to press one more possessive kiss to Phil’s lips. “But later, you’re telling me everything. Including why the fuck I can’t just kill him now.”

The look Phil sent him was maybe slightly exasperated, but Dan didn’t even care. He was being possessive and jealous, yes, but Phil was his. He didn’t want to have to spend the next precious few weeks he got with Phil constantly looking over his shoulder for fear of offending some Duke he didn’t even like.

“I promise,” Phil agreed, voice breathy as he took hold of Dan’s shoulder tighter still, and drew him in for one last, heated kiss. Breathing in deeply as he did so, Phil took as much as he could before pulling away.

“Keep yourself safe,” he begged his thief, and then, he turned on his heel, and was gone.

Dan nodded once, the care that was hidden behind Phil’s tone apparent for anyone to hear. Dan didn’t miss it. Phil still cared about him, of that he knew, but… it was just hard to remain sure of it when the Duke was around.

Without further conversation, and watching his Prince turn on his heel to join the Duke, Dan turned as well, tight lipped and stressed, and ducked back into their tree to clear up the remains of their camp.

It was hard not to turn back around and get one last glance of Dan before Phil was forced to push himself back into the role of the perfect Prince, leader of the royal guard and his people, by all rights, but he did. There was no more time left to dally, no time to explain to Dan just yet what was going on, not when Phil didn’t even have all the answers himself.

Killing was a last resort to Phil. He didn’t even believe in the death penalty, so it was going to take a lot to convince him to murder the Duke. Before anything, Phil needed to find out what his plan was, and if, by any chance, he had some kind of information that his father and brother had known about.

It was still bothering Phil, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Why had his family sent the Duke to him? Why, when they knew what was at stake?

Before Phil knew it, he’d made it down to the river he’d heard last night, and found himself looking around the small open grove for the Duke. He might have let his guard down earlier when he’d been kissing Dan, but Phil wouldn’t let it happen again. He didn’t know what the Duke wanted, but there was a deep terror inside of him that there were only two options out of this whole thing; either Phil did what the Duke wanted, or he would be killed.

He swallowed thickly just at the thought of it. What would become of his kingdom if he lost his life here, now, before he could get the dragon scale and save the princess? Before he could save his family, his friends, his world?

He didn’t know, but he never, ever wanted to find out.

There were too many people here that were Phil’s responsibility. He couldn’t fuck this up.

As Phil’s gaze finally caught onto the Duke’s back, he allowed himself to relax marginally. The man looked just as bedraggled as before, standing off to the side of the rushing river bank hacking away at a tree stump with his sword.

It didn’t take very long for the Duke to catch sight of Phil, stood just at the fringe of the forest, but when he did, he turned to give Phil his most flirtatious smile.

Trying to appear as stoic as possible, Phil merely nodded back, and went about beginning to inspect the river so he could figure out how he was going to build this freaking bridge.

So it was more of a raft, then, but it wasn't Phil's fault. The sticks available to him were thin more often than not, with only a few strong enough that Phil could shove them in the ground and anchor his bridge on one end. The rest had to be tied together with thick reeds that Phil sent Dan to find while he used the rope to bind the first line to the shore line.

Initially, the Duke and Phil had attempted to make short work of the forest trees, but it became obvious rather quickly that the Duke had absolutely no skill in woodworking, and while Phil could teach him the proper way to cut logs for him, it would only eat up their time and turn into some kind of bonding that Phil did not want. It was just easier if they skipped the trees altogether and collect the thick branches that had fallen to the forest floor.

The lack of proper materials for building, however, were the least of Phil’s problems. The way that Dan and the Duke vied for his attention all afternoon was far worse, and he hated it. He hated it because he could see the foundation he’d been laying out for his and Dan’s relationships crumbling at his feet right here and now, and every time he tried to catch Dan’s eye, to fix it before he lost everything, Dan avoided his gaze.

There was so much pain on his thief’s face, so much worry masked by anger and obvious distaste for the Duke, and it was slowly killing Phil inside.

Phil wanted their relationship to be stronger than this, and yet, so far, it didn’t seem to be. Phil was determined, however, that by the end of this whole ridiculous adventure, the trust between him and Dan would only be strengthened. He could only hope that he would be given enough time to fix the cracks he could see already being made.

For now, however, there was nothing Phil could do about them except let them fester, as he was never alone with either man for very long, and he didn’t trust the Duke enough to say too much of meaning to his thief.

“My Prince,” the Duke introduced himself on his next delivery of sticks to Phil. Fully aware that Dan was watching, always watching, Phil accepted said bundle of sticks and very deliberately tossed three away as useless, wanting to feed Dan’s ego in showing the man that the Duke had no idea what he was doing, while Dan always brought Phil the best of the reeds. At the very least, it wasn’t a lie; the sticks Phil had thrown were useless, he just normally wasn’t so rude as to throw them away in such obvious proximity to the person who’d given them to him.

The Duke, however, was a very special case.

The Duke barely flinched at Phil’s action, however, and merely continued to grin at him as if nothing had happened. He shrugged it off, and then said, “I bear news of your family, if you so wish to hear.”

The words stopped Phil short with want for it, and he found himself practically staring at the Duke with desperation in his eyes. The way the Duke smirked at his need made it clear to Phil he’d done it on purpose, and yet he couldn’t hate him for it. How could he hate the man who carried news of his family?

Very easily, it turned out, as the man did not tell him tales right away. Instead, he merely grinned at Phil, and attempted to bargain for it.

“For a mere kiss on the lips, of course?”

The words were like a slap to the face for Phil, and he reared back from the man with disgust on his face. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, the sticks falling from his arms into the pile Phil had previously been using, and he glared at the man so darkly he hoped it was clear that he would hit him should the man even try.

Laughing off the moment, the Duke raised his palms flat in the air, and shook his head.

“A mere joke, of course. Just a joke, my Prince. Now, shall we sit?” he offered, still looking smug and as if he knew he had the advantage here.

Phil couldn’t deny that, in some ways, he most definitely did.

Nodding curtly, Phil followed the Duke in his movements, and settled down next to him near their pile of sticks. The Duke settled in far too close for Phil’s comfort, until their thighs were touching uncomfortably, but it was a small price to pay for news of his family. At least it wasn’t a kiss, as the Duke had nearly demanded before.

Phil listened with narrowed eyes as the Duke began to weave the tale of the King and his family, how the castle had seemed to be falling more and more ill as the days passed on, and how even the sky had begun to reflect the turmoil within. The townspeople were growing sick as well, and it seemed as if the curse was spreading, slowly, but surely, with the need for the cure the nurses seemed to have found increasing ten fold in the last few days alone.

Phil swallowed thickly. The news did not bode well, and yet it was what had been expected, in some ways. The Duke promised that the people were not nearly as ill as Cornelia herself, and that with each restorative, they grew stronger, but it was clear something was killing them.

The Duke poked and prodded, asked about the witch, explained in more detail what Martyn had revealed to him, and consequently told Phil all that he needed to know. His father and Martyn, they did not trust the Duke as far as they could throw him, but he had been the only way to send Phil a message.

The village people outside of the dragon’s lair, the ones who live on the mountain Phil had never visited before, definitely worshipped the dragon, but there was more. From the way the Duke spoke, and the way he’d likely spoken to Phil’s father and brother, he seemed to know the village people, and maybe, just maybe, the witch.

“They work with her, you know. Give her all that she needs in exchange for her blessings. She bestows such amazing powers to those who work for her…” the Duke said, granting red flags in Phil’s mind. He tried not to visibly react, to let on that the Duke had slipped up, surely the same way his own family had been careful.

They’d sent the Duke to Phil for him to poke at for information, as the only lead they had in this whole catastrophe of a curse.

The conversation between them led to their heads being close together, grouped over the pile of sticks they were sorting through, and Phil, despite everything, was hanging off the Duke’s every word. He needed the news from his family more than he’d realised, but to Dan, returning from the riverbed with an armful of reeds, it looked… bad.

Like they were curled up together having a very intimate conversation - one that Phil was more than happy to be part of.

Dan’s eyes narrowed. The trust Phil had asked him to place in him was getting more and more difficult to hold onto, and as much as Dan wanted to have faith in Phil, it was almost impossible when he had to watch things like this with absolutely no explanation.

Why was Phil allowing the Duke so close? Why did he look like he was avidly listening to everything the Duke had to say? Unless Phil really was considering his courtship.

That was impossible. Dan refused to believe it. But still… fear gnawed away at his heart.

Eventually, Dan couldn’t take any more of watching them cosy up, so he strode over, dropping the reeds between Phil and the Duke's bodies in a way that told Phil Dan was pissed Phil hadn't moved away. Phil sighed, trying not to feel his heart break with worry for what would be left between them by the end of it all.

The day wore on, long and weary, every second that the Duke was around Phil made jealousy coil hard and tight in Dan’s stomach. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d looked over and seen them crouched together, heads bent over one thing or another, while the Duke proudly announced more news from home. It hurt Dan to see the way Phil’s eyes lit up every time this was mentioned.

Rationally, he knew that was wrong - that of course Phil would want any slither of gossip he could get about his family, no matter how distasteful the source - but it didn’t stop Dan from getting angrier.

The thought of Phil - his Phil - allowing someone else so close, was more than Dan could wrap his head around. It just didn’t make any sense. Unless…

Unless there really was something to the Duke’s courtship. Unless Phil really was testing out whether or not he’d be a more suitable candidate for Prince Consort. After all, Dan wasn’t just a commoner, he was a wanted criminal above all. Sure, Phil had told him that would be ok, but had Dan just been stupidly naive to believe him? All those sweet things Phil had said, Dan knew he didn’t deserve them. Maybe having someone like the Duke around had made Phil see that, too.

The thoughts burned their way into Dan’s skull until they were all he could see. Every glance he threw to the Duke and the Prince hurt even more, twisting the sharp shard in his stomach. So Dan took to not looking, to hardly spending any time with Phil at all.

It hurt too much, when he thought that maybe all this time Phil had just been playing with him.

Every time he saw them together, saw Phil leaning into the Duke just the tiniest amount, saw the Duke pressing his advantage at every second he could, twisted the jealousy in Dan’s stomach. He walked with a constant scowl, bringing Phil the reeds he needed and then setting about building them a campfire, eyes always on the pair of them.

The second the Duke walked away to collect more sticks from the wider forest, Dan dropped everything he was doing and strode straight over to Phil’s side. He was going to show that Phil was his, however he could, in the only way he really knew how.

Dan hadn’t been threatened much since becoming the King of Thieves, but when he was threatened, he became ruthless and hard. He didn’t want to inflict that on Phil, but Dan’s nerves were fraying and he felt weaker, more vulnerable, than he ever had before.

He didn’t like that feeling.

So, as soon as he approached Phil’s side, Dan ignored the pleading look in his eyes and instead pulled him into a searing kiss.

Phil watched with hope as Dan approached him for the first time without the Duke being there, but his actions were everything but what he was expecting. He’d hoped for Dan to sit down next to him, embrace him, yell at him, something, but what he got was much more intense.

It was possession of the highest order. Phil hardly had a chance to look up at the sound of Dan’s approaching footsteps before a searing pair of lips were pressed to his, and if Phil hadn’t become so intimately familiar with them, he might have pushed Dan away in fear that it was the Duke kissing him or his own two eyes betraying him. Instead, he sunk into the kiss, despite how ferocious it was, not even minding the way Dan’s teeth dug into his lip sharp enough to hurt, to pierce.

Phil couldn’t be mad at Dan when he understood, when he felt the same pain searing through him at the idea of him belonging to anyone but Dan. At the same time, he wished Dan would be more gentle, show Phil that he loved him, not just wanted to possess him, but Phil would take what he could get for now.

By the time Dan was done with Phil’s lips, he made it clear he wasn’t done with Phil’s body, as the hands that had found their way into Phil’s hair before moved to yank Phil’s head to the side until Dan was able to press his mouth to Phil’s neck instead. Unable to help himself, Phil let out a quiet moan in response, feeling parts of him beginning to react, and his mouth falling open in pleasure. His eyes fluttered shut with the utmost trust, and he let Dan mark him as his; anything to make his thief feel better about all that was happening right now.

Anything to show Dan that Phil would always be his.

The moment didn’t last nearly long enough, however, as what felt like mere moments later, Dan was pulling away, leaving a throbbing mark behind on Phil’s neck and standing (when had he sunk to Phil’s level?) to walk away. Phil could see the glare he sent the Duke’s way, the self assured smirk that resided on his lips, and watched as his thief walked away.

For Phil’s part, however, he was left with nothing more than the sting of tears behind his eyes as the Duke approached him with yet another pile of sticks.

“I think that’s going to be enough for now,” Phil declared, not bothering to look up at the Duke. He was too busy trying to blink away the tears in his eyes.

"My prince," the Duke granted in response. Phil thought he could see the man move to bow from his periphery before he joined Phil on the ground, sighing as he sat down and his sword scraped across the earth in its sheath. "I do hope you know what you're doing," he said casually. "The kingdom looks to you, whether you believe it or not, just as much as to your brother, Crown Prince Martyn. Your choice of partner will define much about you."

Phil didn't dignify the remark with an answer, choosing instead to focus on the work at hand, his hands shaking as he tried to tie Dan’s reed’s around the stupid sticks the Duke had brought him.

Duke Hemsworth was unbothered by this, however, and he merely shuffled closer, until their thighs touched once again. Shuddering in disgust, Phil pulled away and tossed the man a dangerous look.

“I may not be betrothed, Hemsworth,” Phil spat, dropping the man’s title altogether. “But we are far more serious than you seem to believe. This trip is a mere courtesy owed to any who might vie for my attention, but I can promise you this is a lost cause for you. My attention is caught, and belongs solely to my Daniel. There will be no changing that. Your ploy for my heart is long past. I expect, at the end of this, for you to share this knowledge with anyone else who might try and pursue me.”

The Duke sent Phil a knowing grin that sent another chill down Phil’s spine. This man was far, far more dangerous than he should be allowed to be.

"Your Daniel is a very dangerous man, my Prince,” the Duke said, sending fear straight to Phil’s heart that he knew. “I hope you realize this. He may very well step on too many toes to ever become your betrothed."

Phil could feel the anger taking the place of everything else at that, and he dropped his work at his feet.

"It is for me, and myself alone to decide whether or not Daniel becomes my betrothed. He would be already if it weren't for my brother and his wedding followed so quickly by his misfortune. Hold your tongue, Duke, or I will be forced to dismiss you."

The air between them was heated, the Duke's grin fading into something malicious and hard that partially terrified Phil. He cared less for his own life just then and more for his relationship with Dan, though. No one would be allowed to destroy it.

Clearing his throat, Phil turned his attention back to his pile of sticks and reeds.

“Perhaps I do need more sticks, after all.”

As the afternoon wore on, Dan’s kisses became more and more possessive, taking the place of their primary mode of conversation entirely as Dan refused to say a word to Phil. In fact, from Phil’s perspective, it almost appeared as if Dan spoke more to the Duke than he did to Phil, and he couldn’t pretend that that didn’t hurt.

There was nothing Phil could do about it, however, as Dan seemed intent on giving Phil nothing more than kisses geared to remind Phil of who he belonged to, and while he loved it, Phil missed the way Dan would touch him with affection. He missed the time where he didn’t feel like a mere possession, when he felt like Dan was just as much his as he was Dan’s. If Phil did not know Dan’s heart, he might have thought Dan really did see Phil as nothing more than a plaything, but he thought he knew the truth, and that was not correct.

Dan was merely… hurting far more than Phil had anticipated, and all he could keep thinking was that he wanted this day to end already more than anything else so that he could pull Dan into their home and tell him everything, set his mind at ease, and piece back together the foundation of their love.

Dan really hated the Duke.

His time with Phil grew severely limited, such that Dan couldn't talk to him, couldn't tease him or laugh with him the way he'd come to enjoy. Worse, though, the more time stretched on, Dan found he didn't even want to spend time talking to his Prince anymore. Not when he'd seen the way the Duke wormed himself close to Phil at every possible opportunity, and Phil didn't push him away.

Dan couldn't even count the number of times he'd returned from collecting reeds to see Phil and the Duke cosied right up together, legs touching, or hands lingering for far too long when working on building the bridge (which really looked more like a ratty old raft to Dan - although he was sure Phil was trying. Was that another thing Phil had lied about?)

The sharp tug that ran through Dan's chest when he saw how close the Duke was to Phil was a new and entirely unpleasant feeling. Dan had felt jealousy before, and it had driven him to dangerous things, but he'd never ever felt so much hurt because of someone before.

Phil, though - Phil was hurting Dan, and it was because Dan had let him in so close, had given him a piece of his heart, and now Phil was stamping all over it.

This was exactly why Dan had always vowed never to let anyone close to him again.

His feelings for Phil worried Dan. This was the side of love that Dan had always feared and hated, and why he'd vowed never to let anyone in close to him again. If you loved someone, eventually you'd lose them, and Dan knew full well how much that hurt. But Phil had made him believe they might have a future - that maybe, just maybe, there might be someone in Dan's life who wouldn't leave him, who would fight for him.

Only now, that very same person was accepting the advances of another man - and he didn't even look too upset about it.

Things would be better if Dan could see Phil actively rejecting the Duke, but instead of pushing him away every time he leaned in close, Phil just sat there and took it. Sure, he didn't actively encourage the Duke in any way, but he wasn't exactly fighting him off, either. By contrast, whenever he was alone with Dan, Dan made sure to pepper Phil with kisses and marks to make it more than apparent who Phil belonged to, but even that didn't bring the same satisfaction when he saw how the same marks were later viewed with scorn by the Duke.

Dan could only watch for so long before he disappeared back into the forest, anger written all over his face.

The time alone at least allowed Dan to become used to the forest environment, as different from his desert as it was. He spent many hours trekking along the river bank for reeds, picking out only the best for his Phil. He was pleased when Phil seemed to favour his reeds over the pathetic sticks of wood that the Duke brought him, but it just made this feel more like a competition that Dan had never signed up to. He still had no idea why Phil had even allowed the Duke to travel with him, and the fear slowly crept in that maybe Phil wasn't happy with him. What if this had all been an act? A way for Phil to make a fool of the King of Thieves? Dan flared with white hot anger at the thought.

The Duke grinned insufferably whenever he saw Dan glaring through the trees. It didn't take long for Dan to get him alone - just because Phil seemed hell-bent on allowing him along, didn't mean Dan had to show him any kind of politeness. As soon as they were both out of Phil's earshot, Dan grabbed the Duke and dragged him backwards through the trees, using every inch of intimidation that he had from when he'd made himself the King of Thieves. Dan shoved him against a tree and leaned over him, towering threateningly, his dark eyes flashing. "I know your game, Duke. But I don't think you've quite got the message. You are not welcome here."

The Duke glared up at him. "Unhand me at once!"

"Or what?" Dan asked silkily, his fingers gripping tight to the Duke's collar. "You'll shout for help? Scream for your rich little parents? No one is out here to help you." Dan shoved him forcefully, grinning at the way the man squirmed. "You made the mistake of entering my world."

The Duke's face was white, and he trembled a little. But his next words were poison. "The Prince doesn't love you."

Dan's jaw clicked. "You know nothing about that."

"I know the Prince better than a commoner like you," the Duke spat. "He's only with you so he can follow in the lead of his grandfather.”

Despite himself, Dan recoiled.

Sensing weakness, the Duke grinned. “Exactly. Prince Philip admires his grandfather above all, he’d do anything to follow in his footsteps. He chased through half the city to try and recover his grandfather's crown from thieves, and was heartbroken when he failed.”

Dan paled. He knew about that - he’d been the one to steal the crown, after all. It was still sitting buried among his treasure in his cavern, hidden from prying eyes, even Phil’s.

“He's settling for second best to try and make his grandfather proud,” the Duke insisted, “because he also took a commoner to bed. He doesn't love you, he's using you."

Dan was breathing heavily through his nose. As much as he didn't want to believe the Duke's words, they carried a ring of truth that Dan didn't want consider. After all, he had been the one to take Phil's grandfather's crown. He'd seen for himself how much it meant to him.

The Duke shot out of Dan's failing grip with a triumphant grin. "Soon, he'll realise his mistake. The Prince should never settle for someone like you."

Wounded beyond belief, Dan could only stand and watch as the Duke returned to Phil's side. He felt cold; numb. He didn't want to believe the Duke, not over Phil, but - but surely it made more sense. Why on earth would a Prince so bound by duty take a thief over a Duke?

Dan's eyes hardened. He had a lot to say to Phil.

There came a point where Phil looked up from his work and saw Dan grab hold of the Duke’s arm through the thicket of the trees and pull him back and into the forest. For a moment, Phil sat and stared, unsure what was going on, and wondered if he should intervene, but the longer he sat with his raft, the more he realized that he didn’t want to.

The Duke had given him much information that day, but nothing more could be learned from him, surely? Phil could grill him for information on the witch, but it would have to be a careful extraction, and he’d yet to come up with a plan. He’d wanted to talk to Dan about it, but seemed that might not be happening after all, and the more Phil thought about it, the more pleasant the idea of Dan killing the Duke seemed.

If that was what Dan was doing now, Phil wouldn’t bat an eye. At that point in the afternoon, he wanted nothing more than to be done with the horror of this all, to have Dan back safe in his arms, and not questioning Phil’s love.

So, when the Duke reappeared, Phil couldn’t help the sigh of disappointment, but at least his thief had kept his word. No killing… not yet.

Before long, lunch had passed, and Dan was stopping next to Phil to drop off a bowl of stew for him. Phil was so absorbed with his work on the raft, however, that he hardly looked up, and when the Duke tried to engage him in conversation, Phil shut him out so thoroughly that the two ended up eating a sad lunch together alone behind Phil. Phil couldn’t bring himself to care. Whatever the Duke said now, it would only turn into bloodshed once Dan was given the okay from Phil to put an end to the Duke’s life.

It was a horrible thought, and part of why Phil wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to want to kill the Duke, and yet it was hard to think any other way when the man was ruining everything that Phil had worked so hard for.

Phil ate lunch alone, working feverishly on the raft, praying that before long he could just have it done.

Behind him, Dan was settled over his own portion of stew, doing everything he could to ignore the Duke who was sitting so gleefully beside him. The meal was small, but filling, and Dan ate without looking over, his eyes fixed on Phil’s back.

Phil didn’t look round at him, though. In fact, Phil seemed wholly absorbed in his raft-building task, completely taken up with sticks and rope and reeds, and not one look at Dan the whole time. It stung. Dan had been so used to having all of Phil’s attention solely on him the whole time they travelled, and now it wasn’t, and he hurt.

As if sensing weakness, the Duke shuffled closer until when Dan turned, he was right there with that stupid smug grin on his face. “See? What did I tell you?”

Dan scowled. He didn’t grace the Duke with an answer, instead stubbornly stabbing the stew with his spoon.

“It’s going to be easy to take him from you,” the Duke continued conversationally. “He’s much more suited to me, I’m sure you know, even with your common background.”

Dan shoved his spoon in his meal and glared. “Shut your mouth. It’ll be much safer for you.”

“Perhaps.” The Duke smirked. “I warned him you were a dangerous man, too. I’m sure if you laid so much as a finger on me, he’d send you away.”

“You’re wrong,” Dan hissed.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so.” The Duke’s tone was silky as he gestured at Phil’s back, just out of earshot. “See? He pays attention to neither of us. You are not above me, commoner. Not in this, or anything else, and you would do well to remember that.”

Dan hissed, his fingers curling into tight fists. He could feel his nails digging into his palms. “You know nothing of Phil.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t think you know much of him, either,” the Duke countered. “You clearly didn’t expect him to take another to court. Now you have to fight for your right, and I think it’s a losing battle. The Prince has favoured me all day.”

Dan didn’t want to believe that, only… it was true. He’d seen for himself how Phil had given the Duke all his attention all day, and now, he wasn’t even looking at Dan.

“I’m not wasting my breath talking to you,” Dan muttered, and picked up his meal and spoon and stalked away from both of them, feet padding soundlessly in the mud of the river bank. He wished he had his cloak with him, but it remained buried in the camp he had with Phil inside the tree, locked away along with his identity as the King of Thieves.

Dan wished he’d never given that identity up. He would love to tear the Duke apart, to see the fear dawn in his eyes as he realised just who he was messing with, but he’d promised Phil to protect his identity. He would never want to tarnish Phil’s reputation to show him consorting with a thief.

But it had led to this, and now, Dan wasn’t even sure if Phil wanted to court him anymore.

Dan settled into the sand far away from the Duke and Phil, just close enough that he could still see them, but with no risk at conversation. Phil had created this situation, he could very well deal with it alone. Unless, of course, he actually wanted the Duke there.

Phil looked behind him as soon as he heard the sounds of movement, and watched with a sad gaze as Dan stalked away, while the Duke looked gleeful.

Closing his eyes, Phil turned back to his work, and tried not to feel his heart break. He could fix this. He could still fix this. He just needed Dan to be strong for him.

Just a little longer, now.

The hours passed on, much quieter than the first. Phil was consumed with his work, unwilling to speak with either man after his hand now. He worked so quick and fast that Dan tried to make him stop, at one point, but Phil ignored him, eyes glued to the work in his hands, constantly checking how long the bridge was, eyes flickering up to check on the length of the river once more. He wanted to be done, to leave, and never have to look back again.

But he knew it would never be that easy, so while Dan and the Duke walked circles around each other, avoiding Phil who would not speak to them, Phil did his best to finish the bridge.

He was just about done, trying to come up with a way to make the bridge stay on the other end of the river since he couldn’t tie it up on that end, when Dan approached him and literally snatched Phil’s work from his hands.

“Dinner. Now. That’s enough work for today.”

His tone was curt enough, indicative enough that Phil understood what he was really saying. Dan didn’t want to spend one more minute alone with the Duke, and it had been enough to break his silence with Phil. Blinking for what felt like the first time in ages, Phil suddenly realized just how tired he was.

“Yeah,” he said, voice exhausted. “You’re right. I - I’m coming right now -”

“No,” Dan insisted, gripping Phil’s arm as he seemed to try and turn around to turn back to his work. “Leave it. Right this second Phil.”

When Dan’s voice got like that, there really was no arguing, so, stunned as he was, Phil turned and allowed Dan to lead him to the campfire for the first time all day.

The fire was warm against his skin as Phil settled his exhausted his body down on the ground, slumping against a log that had been set behind him. Dan was quick to join Phil before the Duke could, shoving him over with his hip for no other reason than because he could, and then ladeling out three bowls of the same stew from that morning. Phil took his bowl greedily enough, and slurped it down like no other, grateful for the warmth in his belly.

This time, however, he was aware enough of what he was eating to realize that this was far more than the thin broth Dan had been making previously, and he stopped just long enough to realize that Dan had done some hunting while he was in the forest that day, unlike the Duke who’d seemed wary enough to fetch Phil the shitty sticks he’d gathered, all just to make their dinner even better than it had been lately.

Lowering the bowl from his face, Phil was just about to open his mouth and compliment Dan on the meal, when the Duke cut him off to make some complaint about how the meat was far too sinewy to be any good, spitting it out for good measure.

His bowl, however, was empty.

Dan didn’t speak a word in response; he merely slurped down his own bowl and curled up next to Phil. Despite the stony look on his face, he insisted that Phil wrap his arm around Dan’s waist the minute he was done with his meal, and cuddled his head on Phil’s chest the minute he was done with his own.

The moment was so peaceful, so warm, that for a moment, Phil could forgot that this day had ever happened. He should have known better, however, as the Duke did not take long to interrupt it.

“So. After we get across this - bridge,” the Duke said, hesitating on the word as he cast a disbelieving eye towards what Phil was making, “What’s the plan for the dragon in the mountains? The village people, they worship him after all. How are we even going to make it to the thing’s lair?”

Upset as Phil was to have his moment with Dan ruined, Phil was slightly relieved to hear the Duke’s question. It was the perfect segue into what Phil had been hoping to ask.

Putting on his best Princely face, Phil smiled at the Duke.

“Actually, Duke Hemsworth, I thought you could help us out there. See, if you truly intend to stick with us through the entire mission, we’re going to need your help. As Duke of the Southern Mountains, I believe it is you and you alone who can get us up the mountain pass and to the Dragon’s lair. Surely, with all that you know of the villagers there, you can get us past them?”

Dan choked on his stew.

Phil was asking the Duke for help?! This, along with everything else he’d already done that day? But he and Phil had already planned for this, Dan had explained how they would get through the mountains to the dragon’s lair. They didn’t need some highborn scum trailing along after them.

Except, apparently, Phil wanted it. Dan went back to scowling, more disgusted with Phil just then than he ever had been.

Unwilling to give away their previous plans, Phil held his tongue on how he and Dan had intended to be let inside of the dragon’s lair. Knowing what he did now, about the Duke somehow being involved with the villagers and the witch, Phil wasn’t willing to give away just anything.

After all, Phil still had no doubt in his mind that at one point or another, the Duke was planning on killing Phil, if he couldn’t use him to his preference. Phil was just waiting for the moment to come, the moment where the trust he’d built with Dan would truly be tested.

Because in all that time Phil had spent thinking by himself earlier, he thought he’d figured out the Duke’s plan. He wanted to use Phil, in any way he could, and what better way to use a Prince than to marry him?

Soon, the Duke would make his attempts. Soon, the Duke would make Phil choose; Dan, or his home.

Phil needed to talk to Dan, and fast, but he couldn’t give himself away to the Duke just yet either. This was a very, very dangerous game they were playing.

“Of course,” the Duke finally replied, bowing his head, respectful as ever.

“Good,” Phil answered, grinning at the Duke and yawning as he moved to stand up, taking Dan with him. “I’ll set up your camp then, Duke. Daniel and I already have a place to stay. We’ll see you in the morning. Daniel, if you could get us settled?”

Dan stared disbelievingly at Phil. He was being sent away? Really, after being abandoned all day, Phil was now dismissing him like a small child?

Hurt ripped through Dan’s chest, replaced slowly with a dangerous, burning anger. Phil had asked for his trust, yes, but this - this was too much.

Phil was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

“As my Prince commands,” Dan said through gritted teeth, and then gave a florid bow to Phil that was all mockery, far more insult than respect.

Phil would know what he meant.

Dan whirled without another look, and strode off into the woods, anger coiling through him slow and hot. He wasn’t going to go back to the shelter, though, not back to that tree which held some of the best memories of himself and Phil, their precious time together.

Last night had been one of the happiest of Dan’s existence. He couldn’t go back to that place now, when all thoughts of Phil were soured by thoughts of the Duke, too. So Dan simply made his way into the line of trees and lingered there, dark eyes watching through dusk as Phil set about helping the Duke make camp.

Phil watched him go, wincing at the pain he could see hidden behind Dan’s motions. He knew that bow meant more insult than not, and had expected such movements from his thief after the way he was treating him. He just hoped that Dan would keep his word, and trust him, just for a little longer.

Phil was careful with what he did, and what he said, after Dan had left. Unhappy to be alone with the Duke, Phil did his best to keep his tone civil, despite their last conversation and the way he’d treated Dan all day. Phil curbed any conversation that might be flirting or speaking of Dan, and merely ordered the Duke around, until the two had hiked up to a nearby cave that was close to the river bank but not too close to Dan and Phil’s shelter, before make the man a fire and waving him off.

Not stupid enough to believe the Duke wouldn’t try and follow him, Phil ducked into the thicket nearby, and waited as the Duke got himself turned around and lost trying to follow Phil, before finally making his way back to his cave, defeated.

Dan was lurking in the forest, too, having watched Phil and the Duke set up camp. He was silent in the trees, much more used to this environment after a day spent alone among the greenery, and watched Phil hide behind a tree to lose the Duke, who was tailing him still.

Would that bastard ever give up?

Silently, and with anger still coiling hot in his gut, Dan edged his way through the forest until he was standing right behind Phil, his face a mask of fury.

Finally feeling safe enough to return to his tree, Phil turned only to find his thief stood just behind him, silent as Phil was in the forest trees. Eyes bugging, Phil only just managed to keep himself from gasping and giving away their position.

Dan barely even registered Phil's surprised expression as he grasped Phil's wrist and dragged him through the forest, his grip much tighter than necessary. Dan was torn between anger and betrayal, and didn't know which one to throw at Phil first, only he needed his Prince to see how furious Dan was, and how that mood often got people killed. If Phil truly had betrayed Dan...

Dan's expression darkened, and he didn't let up his grip on Phil's arm until they were already back inside their tree.

Dan had concealed the entrance earlier, as Phil wanted him to - and Dan wanted to believe that meant something, that all of Phil's little gestures meant he still wanted Dan, but it just didn't make sense. Why was he keeping the Duke around at all, if he was already convinced he wanted Dan?

Dan literally shoved Phil inside the tree, manhandling him without mercy, and bent down to thoroughly conceal the entrance so no damn Duke could come interrupting their time together again.

Spinning around, Dan sat inside the tree trunk and unleashed the full force of his gaze upon Phil, who sat there looking a little terrified. Good. There was a time when Dan had never wanted to scare his Prince, but in the midst of his anger and fear he wanted to lash out, to make his Prince feel something of what he'd done to Dan.

The silence was heavy between them, until Dan broke it with one stern, furious word.

"Explain."

#phanfic #snowbunnylester #iwritephanthings #phanfiction #thief!Dan #prince!Phil #steal my heart

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