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dvp95 · 4 years

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quiet on widow’s peak (15)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter), 49.6k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"So," Phil starts, and then pauses. He has no real idea how to say this.

His parents wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts and his mum mutes the telly. Having their undivided attention doesn't really help, it just makes Phil sweat a bit. He can't even bring himself to sit down, too wired with anxious energy as he is.

The video has only been live for a day, but it's already one of Phil's most popular. People are clamoring in the comments for more; demands for proof and simple curiosity about what could explain his experiences. He's already had a call from Martyn about the benefits of going back and doing an update, but PJ and Sophie have put their two cents in as 'absolutely not'. Chris offered a don't care and then asked for Phil's mum's lasagna recipe.

Phil wants to stay. It's not so much about the mystery, for him, but he's pretty sure his friends and maybe even his brother already know that. He's got his own reasons for not buying a train ticket the moment the video went live and asking his divisive audience what they wanted him to do. Yeah, he'd been sort of hoping for this outcome.

He's not sure if he wants to stay for himself, for the stagnation that being here allows him, or if he wants to stay for deep dimples and a nice laugh. Probably a bit of column A and a bit of column B, if he's honest with himself.

"I uploaded the video on this case," Phil tells his parents. "And there were a lot of, um, unanswered questions. Because of that whole thing with the footage."

"Phil," his dad says, exasperation in his voice already.

"And that means more money from one case," Phil presses on, "because I don't have many expenses here and the ad revenue was really good in comparison to my last five videos. Martyn really thinks I should look into this some more. I promise I won't be here for months or anything, I just - just give me another week. Please, I just need a week."

Money talk usually gets his parents to back down a bit, but they exchange a long look between them that convinces Phil it isn't going to work this time. His mind is already whirring quickly, trying to settle on arguments that it thinks might win him this battle. He considers telling them that this is more than just a video to him, that his whole future feels like it's resting on this one mystery, but he has a suspicion that they wouldn't be very impressed with that lack of foresight. He's ready to bring out specific numbers when their silent communication breaks and his mum gives him a small smile.

"Phil," she says, echoing his dad with a bit more warmth and a lot more pity. "You know we need to talk about this, dear, why don't you sit down?"

He shakes his head and shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets so they don't see the trembling. He's not scared, he's just anxious, and his brain and body are conspiring to make him feel like he's going to die if something unexpected happens.

Phil doesn't like change. He doesn't like seeing his childhood house like this, he doesn't like having his career up in the air, and he doesn't like the way his parents no longer trust him to do what's best for himself. The worst part is that he's not even sure they're wrong - Phil knows he isn't thinking logically right now, that Martyn is the one who even mentioned ad revenue while Phil was busy wondering how best to prove himself.

"I'm good," says Phil. He hopes that the nerves aren't as palpable as they feel to him.

"Okay, well," his mum says, briskly rearranging things on the coffee table like she has to be doing something with her hands while they talk about this. He's reminded a bit of Dan in the coffee shop, of Chris in the attic, and he wonders what it is about him that makes people need to split their focus like that. "Your dad and I have been talking."

"About how I need to grow up?" Phil offers, heart in his throat. It feels like he might laugh or cry at any moment. "Yeah. I've noticed."

"We're retiring, Phil," his dad says. That's not exactly news to Phil - he knows why they're selling the house, after all - but he bites his tongue and lets his dad speak. "We've understood the... unstable nature of your work for several years now, but we can't keep bailing you out whenever you have a bad month. You're a smart man and you've got a good degree, you should have something steadier under your belt."

"We love how creative you are," Phil's mum chimes in. It almost sounds like they've practiced this. Phil bites down harder. "And if you can channel that creativity in a way that isn't so dangerous, you'll have our full support."

Phil kind of wishes that he already had their full support, but he's already had this conversation with himself. The work isn't fun for him anymore, and the risk of getting arrested for trespassing isn't a low one. It's almost not worth it when he doesn't have that full-blown excitement about a case.

He doesn't need every haunt to have a nice ending wrapped up with a bow, but he does need to like the content he's producing. Otherwise there isn't any point to it.

Still. It sucks to hear.

Phil deflates a little bit. His automatic defensiveness that springs up whenever his parents start questioning his many bad decisions in life is fading to something that feels like bone-deep exhaustion. The anxiety is still there, thrumming under his skin, but there's nothing he can really do about that. The truth is that he's been feeling listless and defeated and trapped for a lot longer than he's been back in his parents' house. There's no real point in pretending otherwise.

"Give me a week," he repeats, quiet. "I want to finish this project either way, y'know? Just let me stay for the rest of this week and - and if it doesn't pan out, if I don't find anything new, then... then I'm done. I'll stop. I'll find something else."

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" his mum asks. The relief that pulls at her shoulders and her pursed lips is enough for Phil to be sure.

"Yeah," says Phil. He gives them a little shrug. "I'm comfortable with what I'm doing. I like making videos and exploring places with cool stories, and even talking to people has been getting better. But you're... you've got a point. I can't keep doing this forever. Not at the pace and quality I like to maintain. If this video goes well, it might help me break into a more diverse and less dangerous niche, which would make everyone happy, I think."

His dad nods at him. "Okay. You can stay until Sunday, because that's when we're going to the Isle. You can do whatever editing and post-production stuff you need to when you get back to Brighton. We'll expect a call when you know for sure what you're going to do, Phil."

Phil swallows, clenches his fists tighter in his pockets. "You'll be the first to know."

Nobody asks Phil to leave, but he can't stay in the aggressively neutral version of his parents' house and field their 'casual' questions about what sort of things he might want to do if YouTube doesn't work. He escapes to the city again, sending a message to Dan on the bus. Instead of asking if they want to hang out with him, he simply asks where he can meet them today. As if it's a given that they're going to be spending time together.

Maybe that's presumptuous of him, but Dan uses an exclamation mark when they reply, im at home!, so Phil thinks it's probably fine.

Dan meets him at the door this time, mid-ramble about the broken dishwasher in their flat as if social niceties are no longer expected of them. That suits Phil. He grins back at Dan and joins them in the small but tidy galley kitchen, letting Dan talk his ear off while they scrub at some discoloured Tupperware.

"Sorry," Dan interrupts themself, turning big and apologetic eyes on Phil like they've just registered that he's standing there. "I'm having a weird brain day. Bit all over the place, you know."

"That's fine," Phil says honestly. He smiles, because Dan doesn't look all that convinced by it. "No, really, I don't mind. I like listening to you talk."

The blush spreads across Dan's face too quickly for them to hide by turning away. They try, anyway, and Phil is left looking at their face in profile, turned down and rosy as it is. "Normally I at least break for breath. What's new with you?"

"Since two days ago?" Phil teases. Dan's dimple makes an appearance right before the smile splits their face, and Phil has to twist his own fingers together so he doesn't reach out and poke at it. He's still working through some stuff, still doesn't want to make any decisions about this without thinking it over carefully, but he's never been good at resisting temptation either. "Uh, not much. My parents are still on my case. I'm getting good feedback on the video, but you probably know that already."

"It was a good video," says Dan. They pause as they dry their big hands on an old tea towel. "I... appreciate you saying that stuff about me."

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

Dan meets his eyes again, almost stubbornly ignoring the colour in their own cheeks. "I can appreciate things that you think are true, dingus. Take the gratitude already."

Phil grins. "Never."

There are snacks after that and some video games that Phil loses spectacularly and some good ferret snuggles. As the afternoon turns to evening, Phil watches Dan rearrange some titles on the bookshelf as they chatter about one of their science-y classes, no longer self conscious about how much they're talking. He's sitting on Dan's soft, unmade bed with Pixel, who keeps rolling around in the sheets like she's trying to get comfortable.

Phil is already comfortable. It's hard for him to ignore that Dan's bedroom feels so much like a safe haven in the way that his old house no longer does.

At some point Dan gives up on whatever system they were trying to implement. They pick Tofu up off the floor and flop onto the bed with Phil, wiggling around in almost the exact same way Pixel had. Phil presses his lips together tightly so he doesn't laugh.

"I think that things can be improved," Dan is saying, and Phil tries to figure out if they're still talking about the environment or if Dan has picked up the loose thread from their earlier rant about Bethesda. Pixel and Tofu are both running around like Dan and Phil are just bony jungle gyms, and Dan barely even stutters when one of them steps on their nose. "Of course they can be improved, it's not something you just give up on when things get tough, but the problem is that the people in charge have to implement the changes that are necessary for improvement, and - ow, that's my ear, don't bite that - and, uh... where was I?"

"You were telling me about climate change," says Phil. "Or potentially Todd Howard's ambivalence towards a quote-unquote 'perfect game'. I honestly lost track."

For a moment, Dan is quiet. Phil's anxiety rears its head for the first time since he got here, but luckily he hasn't stuck his foot in his mouth this time - Dan starts laughing, more or less cackling, and they roll closer to Phil to bury their face in a pillow.

Phil grins and reaches out to tug at one of Dan's curls, fascinated by the way it just springs back into place. He's done this to PJ once or twice or six times, but he's usually had a couple drinks before he resorts to it. Dan comes out of hiding with tears of laughter welling up in their pretty brown eyes and their dimples in full force, grinning up at Phil like he's the funniest person in the world.

"Those are both really important issues," Dan says, trying their best to sound deadpan when they're so obviously gleeful.

They wiggle around again and Phil says, "You look exactly like Pixel when you do that."

He's pretty sure that Dan honks at that, but he's immediately distracted by a ferret trying to bite his eyebrow.

This is good. Phil likes this. He's trying to dig himself out of the mindset that he'd backed himself into when he first started noticing Dan, because PJ might have had a point. Okay, so PJ definitely had a point, and Phil has been a bit of an idiot.

He won't know for sure how Dan feels about him being gay and uncompromising about that fact unless he asks, and he doesn't think he's ready to do that just yet. But there's a rainbow flag on Dan's wall and they don't consider themselves not not a guy, so... Phil thinks that maybe he's been assigning a strictness to Dan's own relationship to gender and sexuality that isn't actually there.

Dan is talking again, to their ferrets this time, and Phil is almost overwhelmed by the force of affection that washes over him now that he isn't trying so hard to hold it back. Dan's leg is pressed against his own and they're holding Pixel up like they're playing airplane with her and Phil likes them so goddamn much.

"Did you want to," Phil starts, interrupting Dan's musing about what goes on in a ferret's tiny brain. Dan looks up at him with such genuine happiness on their face that Phil's words stick in his throat. He should be asking if Dan wants to go out for dinner again or if they've seen whatever blockbuster action film is playing in cinemas this week, but that's not what comes out of his mouth. When Dan raises their eyebrows quizzically, what Phil ends up asking is, "Uh, come spend the night in the haunted house with me?"

Great. Real romantic.

Dan doesn't make a secret about how much they hate this plan. They say it over and over, but they don't take any of the outs that Phil offers them.

"I hate this plan," Dan says as they make a bunch of sandwiches. It seems like way too much for just the two of them, but Phil isn't about to say no to having a near endless supply of peanut butter and bread when they're stuck in a dusty attic again. "This is stupid. You should have just left it at the first video, Phil, that was fine."

"You don't have to come with me," Phil reminds them for the umpteenth time.

Dan glares. "No, I'm coming."

"You're a very complicated person," says Phil.

With a heavy sort of sigh, like they've been dealing with Phil for years instead of a week, Dan finally sets the peanut butter down. "Look," they say, pointing the dull knife at Phil for emphasis. "I can hate this plan and still want to make sure you don't get fucking arrested or possessed or trip down the stairs or something. PJ knows where I live."

"I think he'd be in the camp of me deserving it if I died in the Wilkins place," Phil says, his lips tugging into a grin. "But thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan mutters. "Will you at least tell me why we're going back? I know you're fucking stubborn and all, but I didn't figure you for someone who beats dead horses."

"Oh, that's a terrible idiom," Phil says, mostly to himself. He reaches out to squeeze Dan's shoulder when he sees them get all huffy at the apparent avoidance. The tension leaving Dan's body under his palm is frustrating to feel, because there's nothing Phil wants more than to lean into it. The problem, of course, is that he really does need to talk to Dan before he starts trying to hug them in their own kitchen. Phil lets his hand drop awkwardly between them and shrugs. "Well, uh. This is the first time in a long time I've actually been excited about a project. And that makes me think that maybe I've worn out my welcome here. Not... not here like Manchester here, but here like... my job, here."

Dan leans their hip against the counter and looks at Phil with their brow all furrowed. "This is an ultimatum," they say. "Like, to yourself."

"Yeah," says Phil. "I need to solve this - or at least find something else that I can show to people. Because if I don't, then I need to actually look at myself and admit I'm not doing something I like anymore."

"It sounds like you're already looking at yourself," Dan says quietly.

"I guess."

"No, you are," Dan insists, their voice stronger now that they can assert an opinion. "Trust me, I'm a pro at unproductive self-reflection and existentialism. Who am I, what does it all matter, I know the song and dance. And I don't think that getting more footage is going to erase what you're already thinking, Phil. Tell me if I'm out of line, whatever, but if you want to do something else with your life then just do something else with your life."

The automatic defensiveness threatens to make Phil snap back at Dan that this isn't any of their business, but he's had a lot of practice in keeping his negative thoughts to himself. He gives Dan a little humourless smile and shrugs his shoulders.

"You're twenty-one," Phil says. "And a student. I don't really expect you to get it."

Dan puts their hands on their hips like they're settling in for a proper row, but instead they just say, "I know. I don't know what you're going through, sure, I doubt anyone knows what anyone else is going through at any time. And, yeah, I've got another year before I have to worry about my career. But I've made some fucking tough decisions in my life, mate. I dropped out of my law course after two lectures. I don't talk to my family anymore. I've tried on so many different names and labels that it would make your head spin. You don't like your job anymore, and one video isn't going to change that."

"Yeah, probably not." Phil looks down at their little collection of sandwiches, feeling lost and stubborn and a bit scared about how much Dan sees him. "But I have to try, y'know? I can't just give up. I have to try."

There's a long moment of silence. Then, Dan sighs.

"Okay. Put these in a container, we don't use unnecessary plastic in this flat. Just whatever they fit in. I'll make some coffee for the road and find our Scrabble board."

#quiet on widow's peak #words words words

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moviessilently · 6 years

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A rare Lubin feature film about a young woman who goes west and ends up being forced to marry an alcoholic mine owner. Based on a smash hit play from the same era, this film was hailed as one of Lubin’s best.

I will also be reviewing the 1929 remake with Dorothy Mackaill, Ian Keith and Myrna Loy. Click here to skip to the talkie.

Home Media Availability: Not currently available.

Go west, young woman

An enormous thanks to Martyn Stevens for generously granting permission to review this rare print from his collection.

A few disclaimers before getting started: While I consider myself to be a reasonably tough reviewer, I do try to give movies a fair shake and not draw the knives without cause. This movie has given me cause. You’ll see what I mean as the review progresses but this is fair warning that I will be hitting below the belt. This picture deserves nothing less and, frankly, if the hero had been hit below the belt a bit more, a good deal of trouble could have been saved.

This is our hero, by the way.

Even though I did not care for the picture, I am thrilled to have this opportunity to review it because I have been dying to get my hands on later Lubin work. So, again, Mr. Stevens has my gratitude.

Siegmund Lubin was among the first independent filmmakers to rival the Edison film production unit and his brash, sleazy films and ripoffs have raised eyebrows ever since. While he eventually allied with Edison and joined the Motion Picture Patents Company, Siegmund Lubin remains a quirky figure in film history. His company didn’t survive the transition to features but his technical knowhow saved the future Paramount from ruin.

America’s greatest play? Look, I know we’ve made mistakes but I’ll be hanged if I take responsibility for this! (Beautiful typography, though.)

That’s not to say that no Lubin features were produced. The company tried to keep up with audience tastes but was eventually forced into bankruptcy in 1916. The Great Divide was released at the very end of 1915 and was hailed as one of the finest productions Lubin had ever created.

Just so you know, I will be spoiling the heck out of this thing. Content and trigger warnings in place. Let’s do this.

Look out, guys, she’s gazing heavenward!

Like all good westerns, the film opens in Massachusetts. Ruth Jordan (Ethel Clayton) has decided that she and her brother (Hayden Stevenson) will head out to Arizona to seek their fortune. They are accompanied by sister-in-law Polly (Mary Moore) and Dr. Winthrop Newberry (Warner Richmond), who has an awful crush on Ruth. Of course, as we all know, nobody with a name like Winthrop Newberry stands a chance of winning a heroine’s heart.

So, our merry band of Massachusites head west (the film was shot on location) and Ruth thinks it’s all marvelous. If only she could find a rough and unpolished man. Well, in the proud tradition of Monkey Paw wishes, Ruth’s is about to be granted.

Did I hear “a violent alcoholic?”

One night, Ruth is left alone at the house. Three drunks break into the house, overpower Ruth and resolve to shoot dice for “Exclusive rights to love, honor and cherish ‘til we’re tired of her.” Ruth appeals to the least ugly drunk, Steven Ghent (House Peters), promising to marry him if he will save her from the others. Ghent agrees, buys off one man with a necklace of gold nuggets and shoots the other dead.

And this is where Charles Bronson, Charlize Theron or their 1915 equivalent breaks down the door and shoots Ghent in the face.

What’s that? They don’t? What kind of joint is this?

Okay, fine. Sigh.

Our hero. Let that sink in. Our hero.

Ghent makes Ruth write a note saying that she has gone off to marry the man she loves and then he takes her to a frontier minister who ties the knot. And then it’s off to Ghent’s cabin, located conveniently atop the Grand Canyon. When Ruth locks him out of the bedroom, he declares that he married her and paid for her, so he owns her to do with as he sees fit.

And this is where Charles Bronson, Charlize Theron or their 1915 equivalent breaks down the door and shoots Ghent in the face.

They STILL don’t? You have got to be kidding me.

Our. Hero. Hero. Ours. Our. Hero.

Ruth learns how to weave baskets and she works to earn money to buy herself back from Ghent. (Um, it’s not legally binding, she does know that, right? Ruth really hasn’t two brain cells to rub together, does she?) Ghent goes to town, gets drunk, returns to the cabin and forces himself on his wife.

And this is where Charles Bronson, Charlize Theron or their 1915 equivalent breaks down the door and shoots Ghent in the face.

Oh, you cannot be serious. Who shoots him in the face? You can tell me. Nobody EVER? What kind of nonsense is this movie?

Ruth doesn’t like to be kidnapped. Spoilsport!

He’s totally sorry the next day and promises he is a reformed man, said EVERY ABUSER EVER. Will Ruth find (gag) “love” with her kidnapper and abuser? Will she return east? Will she sell more baskets than anyone? Those questions are answered in The Great Divide.

Okay, you can see why I have problems with this, right? And if anyone questions the tales of abuse told by actresses, this movie is a prime example of why I believe them.

The plot is essentially The Sheik with a smelly bum in the lead. Now The Sheik is obviously problematic but it has kitsch to soften the blow, for better or worse. In this film, the grit and realistic settings just make it so, so, so much more awful.

Hide all the breakable objects, Ruth is posing again.

The leads of The Great Divide contribute to its problems. Ethel Clayton is beautifully photographed and gets kudos for her subtle makeup but her performance is just the sort of thing trotted out to make fun of silent films. Clayton does not act so much as glide from one pose to another, always playing to the cheap seats. There’s lots of gazing heavenward, flailing of arms, that sort of thing. Clayton is not helped by the fact that her character is a complete nincompoop but I would have preferred less thrashing about.

Our hero. Our big, strong hero.

I am not the biggest House Peters fan in the world. He plays his parts with this irritating “Look, ma, I’m in pictures!” grin and displays very little range beyond it. Reviewers of the time politely remarked that he does crank his drunk scenes up to a rather exaggerated degree. I would go further and say that he plays them like a slapstick drunk.

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This may sound strange but my biggest problem with House Peters as an actor is his hands. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with them. In The Captive, he just kept them shoved in his pants, which was weird but I was willing to forgive because it was Blanche Sweet’s movie and he was just there as eye candy. In the case of The Great Divide, Peters keeps his elbows bent and his wrists limp, looking not unlike someone who has just soaped up their hands to wash but has discovered that the running water is on the blink. Or maybe he thinks he’s a kangaroo. I can’t imagine what it’s supposed to mean and must conclude he was just a peculiar man giving a peculiar performance.

The supporting cast is better. Mary Moore easily has the best part in the picture as Polly and she plays it for all its worth. While the leads are making dramatic pronouncements and striking poses, Polly says things like this:

In 1915, Polly would have come across as the comedy relief but to modern viewers she’s the voice of reason. I kind of love her. Is it too late to get our heroines swapped?

I feel you, Polly.

Warner Richmond, probably best remembered by silent film fans as Richard Barthelmess’s big brother in Tol’able David, does good work as Ruth’s rejected suitor. I mean, the character needed to take a hint but Richmond plays him well, with subtly and no weird kangaroo hands. A low hurdle, to be sure, but one worth mentioning.

And now we have to talk about the rather distressing story. With the exception of lopping off the third act, the film follows the play closely. We get everything from soup to nuts to rape. Oh goody gumdrops. Reviews of 1915 and 1916 did not phrase it quite like this, of course, and chose instead to focus on the scenery, and what they called powerful themes and an unusual romance. Um, that’s a bit of an understatement.

What a prude!

The worst part is how everybody gingerly steps around the pachyderm in the parlor to this day. Here is how the Encyclopedia Britannica describes the story: “A prose play about conflict between eastern U.S. puritanism and the individualism of the western frontier.”

Okay, let’s start from the top, Britannica. Not wanting to be raped is not generally classified as being puritanical, just so you know. And if this is western individualism, I am packing my bags for Connecticut immediately.

Britannica: Women, eh? Can’t live with them, can’t find them sometimes.

Normal Person: I hope to spend an evening in my own home and not become the victim of a violent crime.

Britannica: Oh, where’s your sense of humor? You’re no fun anymore!

At least my faith in humanity was restored slightly by a review of a revival in the New York Times:

“A more obscure 1906 melodrama that provides a new set of clichéd characters who, at their best, are intriguing reflections of a changing nation… Because the play is crudely drawn and clumsily plotted, its chief value might be as a cultural artifact.”

Amen!

Look, I’m all for twisted romance. Heck, The Forty-First is one of my favorite movies. But the characters have to behave like actual human beings, okay? Ruth’s bizarre acceptance of the “bargain” she made with Ghent strains audience suspension of disbelief to the breaking point and beyond.

Deals with home invaders are null and void. This is basic stuff.

Let me put this another way. If the heroine’s house was broken into and the burglars threatened to burn it down unless she signed the lease over to them at a lawyer’s office the next day, she would definitely be smart to go along with the plan but she would be nuts if she actually signed the house over in front of witnesses. “I have to keep my word!” has no power if the promise is extracted through threats of violence. This is, like, Promises 101 stuff.

Not only does Ruth sign the marriage license when she is among people who could have helped her, she also accepts that her value is a string of nuggets. Um, I believe the 13th Amendment is a thing. A war was fought about it, is this ringing any bells?

In short, the characters act like characters in a play and not like any normal human beings who ever walked the earth.

Actual dialogue from the play. I can’t even. I hope Ruth gets indigestion.

I should give the film credit for toning down the character of Ruth a bit. In the original 1906 play by William Vaughn Moody, she is so smug and superior that I was rooting for Polly to haul off and slug her by the end of the first scene. She’s still annoying in the film but it’s more of the typical “Ooo, look at the tree! Look at the flower! I must swing my arms and prance!” kind of thing, pretty common in silent films.

As stated above, the play also has a third act in which Ruth does leave Ghent and return east but (spoilers for a place released eleven decades ago) decides he is absolutely marvelous for sending her mother money. For somebody who declares that she cannot be bought, Ruth is certainly happy to accept cash once it passes through an intermediary. Obviously, Ruth doesn’t deserve the horrors that the play visits on her but let’s just say that I would not be sorry to see her stub her toe in the night.

The Great Divide, based on a movie, based on a play! (Anthony P. Kelly wrote the screenplay.)

Oh well, I suppose it’s better than the tie-in short story by Norman Bruce published in Motion Picture Magazine. That bit of deathless prose features descriptions like “gallant girl-person” and “woman thing.” Gollum, is that you and how did you come to be hired by Motion Picture Magazine?

Gallant girl-person, precious, we loves them, we does.

The movie has its flaws but it definitely could have been worse.

So, there you have it. The Great Divide is a rare surviving Lubin feature and while the story is not at all to my taste, I am very glad to have had an opportunity to see it and to research a forgotten bit of early twentieth century American pop culture. I can’t say that I recommend it for pleasure viewing but it is interesting all the same.

Where can I see it?

Not presently available on home video but I will let everyone know if it ever becomes available.

I know what you’re thinking. “Sure, The Great Divide was pretty tacky but at least Hollywood moved onto more sophisticated fare during the studio era.”

About that…

Home Media Availability: Released on DVD.

The Great Divide was remade in 1925 (a copy is presently held in a Swedish archive) and again in 1929 as a talkie. It was remade once more in Technicolor in 1931 and given the eyebrow-raising title of Woman Hungry. I’m tackling the 1929 version today because it’s the one on DVD. I’m not sure it was such a great decision.

Poor, poor, poor Myrna Loy.

While the 1925 version and the 1931 version both follow the play reasonably closely, the 1929 version goes its own way and makes up its own plot. Given the horrors of the play, I would normally be in favor of this but the new 1929 plot is just as disturbing. What it lacks in sexual harassment, it makes up for with racism.

Steven Ghent (Ian Keith, who was Mr. Ethel Clayton when this film was released) is a mine owner who has been supporting his late partner’s daughter in New York for years. He remembers her as a kid but kids do have a way of growing up.

Oh yeah, totally not interested at all.

Ghent is the object of affection and obsession for Manuela (Myrna Loy, still in her exotic vamp period) and while he doesn’t say yes, he doesn’t exactly say no either. The film tries to portray this as honorable when it’s really eye-rolling.

Anyway, that kid back east, Ruth Jordan, is now played by Dorothy Mackaill and she is a sassy flapper who can knock back a cocktail and loves to dance. The screenwriters (all men) hope to convince us that she is the wild spawn of Satan and Everything Wrong With Young People These Days. To me, she comes off as a perfectly normal young woman whose idea of a wild time is stopping off at a fiesta and having a cocktail sometimes. Is this the direct 1920s equivalent of those “Millennials are killing…” articles? I think so. No word yet as to whether or not Ruth eats avocado toast.

One of those awful flappers in her cloche.

Ruth stops off at that fiesta, makes a few racist remarks, casually calls for genocide and runs into Ghent. He affects a Mexican accent and pretends to be a bandit. At least I think it’s supposed to be a Mexican accent. It could have been Irish, Russian or Cambodian for all I know.

He follows Ruth and her friends (including silent veteran Creighton Hale, who plays her fiancé) into a bar where he is persuaded to sing a song. Now Ian Keith actually could sing but you’d never know it from this film. Keith’s lipsyncing is so bad that I kept waiting for some kind of punchline, like wheeling out a gramophone or something. But no, this is supposed to be his real voice.

Ghent better not get on Manuela’s bad side or she might sing another song.

If that wasn’t enough, Manuela sidles up and sings a seductive song to get Ghent’s attention. Myrna Loy does a better job of lipsyncing but the song…

Actual lyrics: One dance with me, Si Si senor. One chance with me, Si Si senor.

Ugh. Please explain to me again how talkies won because I am still a bit baffled.

Live by the goofy accent, die by the goofy accent. Ghent deserved what he got.

Anyway, Ghent is ogling, which makes Ruth jealous and then he romances her (still with the terrible accent, mind you) and she starts to fall for him. But then he is exposed as being an American, Ruth is like “What the heck?” and then heckles him for being a dweeb (fair).

And then Ghent discovers that Ruth is really the daughter of his late partner and he gets angry. He storms into her train car, declares that she is promiscuous, shouts at her for drinking and smoking and generally comes off as a pompous, prudish ass. Kids these days, amiright?

Ruth’s expression is exactly what mine was at this point in the film.

So, he kidnaps her, a mature reaction. What follows is your typical Teach the City Girl a Lesson cliché stuff. Fear of wild animals, sore feet, the whole enchilada. Let’s see, drag someone out into the wilderness, frame yourself as their protector, regulate every aspect of their existence. Yep, sounds like a recipe for Stockholm Syndrome to me.

And, of course, our young lady changes her tune about Ghent after another session of insultingly incompetent lipsyncing. Seriously, grade school kids manage to lipsync convincingly, it’s pretty darn easy.

I suppose I shouldn’t reveal the ending, though a reasonably intelligent sea sponge can see it coming.

At least SOMEONE can act in this joint.

The cast is pretty mixed. Ian Keith clearly has no idea what to do with Ghent but Dorothy Mackaill is able to bring a little charisma to the table. It’s a thankless role as the Straw Flapper who symbolizes the excesses of her generation (a cocktail before bed, the minx!) but she does what she can.

Poor Myrna paying her dues.

Roles like Manuela were par for the course at this point in Myrna Loy’s career. Her sharp comedic timing had not yet been discovered and she was still being wasted in clichéd vamp parts. There’s always a certain amount frustration in watching Loy at this point. It’s like seeing a fully qualified lawyer being obliged to serve coffee.

And the winner is..

The Talkie

I want to be clear that this was a race to the bottom. Both films are deeply disturbing, the 1915 version because it glamorizes rape and the 1929 version because it glamorizes an abusive, paternalistic relationship and embraces Stockholm Syndrome.

Basically, this is a contest between stylized nastiness and something that can and does happen in the real world. Neither option is particularly savory.

The 1929 version also gets some points for most excellent hats.

But a winner must be chosen and so I will say that the 1929 version wins because Dorothy Mackaill is a good actress. She deserved better but she gives this silly, dangerous film much more than it deserves. Incidentally, after her film career ended, Mackaill spent the rest of her life in Hawaii. Good for her!

The talkie does suffer from set-bound sequences and rather fakey scenery, along with some painful from Lucien Littlefield as a singing cowboy but I think Mackaill’s performance makes up for it.

Singing cowboys AND bad lipsyncing? Oh swell.

I don’t like the Code one little bit but I must grudgingly admit that I am grateful that it saved us from further remakes of The Great Divide.

***

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The Great Divide (1915) A Silent Film Review A rare Lubin feature film about a young woman who goes west and ends up being forced to marry an alcoholic mine owner.

#1915 #Edgar Lewis #Ethel Clayton #House Peters #The Great Divide #Warner Richmond #Western

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irphanfic · 7 years

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Moonshot - Chapter 8

Hey, I'm back! Yes, it took me a bot longer to update but I've been struggling with this chapter more than I expected because I had another ide in mind first but my mind went crazy and it took me another week to finish this one.

As always, hope you enkoy it and any feedback is welcome!

summary: Phil had a feeling that this Friday was going to be different.

That didn’t mean he was ready to meet his favourite baseball player, Daniel Howell, while he was cleaning the windows of a building.

or the au in which Phil is a shy window cleaner and Dan is a famous baseball player. This is their story.

words: 3.1k

no trigger warnings

Read on ao3 - (x)

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7

Chapter 8: Only A Week

Dan woke up to his phone ringing on Saturday morning. His agent Estelle wanted him to come over to her office to talk to him about 'some secret project' that she had some information about.

''Why so early?'' he had asked over the phone, but Estelle just sushed him and told him to get ready.

So, still sleepy and with only a coffee on his body he took a cab and headed to her office, yawning as he knocked on the dark brown wooden door.

''C'mon in!'' Dan heard Estelle shout from inside of her office.

Dan opened the door and walked inside, finding a suit claded Estelle already standing up from her chair to envelope him into a big hug, ''Dan! It's so nice to see you!''

Dan hugged her back, ''Yeah, it has been a while, hasn't it?''

He felt Estelle nod against his shoulder before separating their bodies and walking back to her office chair, indicating Dan to sit in the one in front of her, a glass table being the only thing between the two of them.

After asking the informal 'how are you's', Estelle went straight to the point. ''Look Dan, I received a new email from the sport clothing brand we worked with a year ago. As you know, you being the face of their last clothing range was absolutely marvelous. Anyways, they plan on launching their new campaign soon and they want an immediate response since they had talked with another player but he turned the offer down last minute and they were planning to strat all of it next Wednesday so yeah, really last minute, I know.'' Estelle rolled her eyes but continued, ''The new baseball season is about to start but you have handled the promo stuff and games other years so it should be okay.''

Estelle handed Dan a few papers so he could see what kind of clothes he would be wearing and more stuff he didn't really understand about budgets, promo shoots and more along with the contract of this campaign.

Dan really had enjoyed working with this brand before and it had been a while since he had done it. This could be another good opportunity for him. ''I really like how it sounds...'' Dan said pensive, still trying to understand the papers Estelle had given him.

''Apparently, you will be modeling with Claire Vickard, the tennis player, and they want to take you both to Ireland for a few landscape shoots, nothing too difficult, but you will have to stay there for a week. I've already talked to your coach and said it's fine, you are doing great at practice so...''

Dan listened attentively, picking up every detail Estelle was saying. Wait, a week in Ireland without seeing Phil? It shouldn't be that hard, right?

''So, are you interested? It is secret till the campaign is revealed so you cannot tell anyone, okay? If someone know they could ruin you, you know that, right?'' Estelle asked, looking at Dan with her big eyes as he nodded in understanding. You wouldn't like to mess up with the contracts, oh no.

''I think it looks great, it's a good deal and you have already worked with them, you can think about it a bit more but I advise you that we don't have much time,'' she said.

''No, I think I'm ready to sign the contract,'' Dan said, trying not think much about what it would suppose not to see Phil in those days, ''as you said, I already know them, so it shouldn't be really different.''

Estelle handed him a black pen and Dan started scribbling his signature in the bottom of almost every page, giving the stack of papers back to his agent once he was done.

''Perfect! I'll send the papers later and I will call to ask about the travelli...'' but Estelle's sentence was cut off by Dan's phone loud and repetitive chiming, indicating someone had sent him a few messages.

''Wait,'' Dan said, taking out his phone and instantly smiling as he read Phil's name on the screen. Without reading the messages, he quickly turned the phone on silent and pocketed it back in his trousers, ''sorry for that Estelle, continue please.''

Estelle's face expression changed form serious to soft, making Dan frown, ''What?''

''Who has you smiling like that?'' she said, as if he had noticed Dan's wide smile.

''Wha- what smile? What are you on about?'' Dan tried to dismiss it, but knowing she wouldn't buy it. It was Estelle, for God's sake.

''That smile!'' she pointed at his mouth, ''Your dimples don't show for anyone! So tell me, who has the powers to make you grin at your phone, uh?''

Dan groaned. There was no way he was getting out of this, right? ''Okay, his name is Phil. He is the window cleaner of my new building and we started talking by writing messages to each other on papers, you happy now?''

''Tell me more, c'mon Dan! How is he like? Have you meet each other without a big ass window in between? Tell me!'' Estelle almost whined, dragging the last 'e' of 'me' for emphasis.

''Fine, I will.''

So Dan spent all Saturday morning at Estelle's office talking about him and Phil. How nervous he was of meeting him that first time, how the blue eyed asked him on a date first, their last trip to the bookstore, even showing Estelle the few pictures he had taken so she could see with her own eyes how 'attractive and adorable' Phil was, his smile getting somehow bigger at each detail he could remember about Phil.

''You really like him, don't you?'' Estelle asked once Dan had managed to tell everything.

''I really do, Estelle. I really do.''

______________

Phil was waiting for Dan to come to his flat so he was franatically tidying his living room.

He had been writing, well, trying to, since he hadn't gotten any responses from the publishing houses yet so he wanted to keep writing something else in case his last story didn't work, but his brain wasn't cooperating. Phil could swear he had spent around two hours staring at the blinking cursor on the document, as if it was moking him for not writing. Why was so hard to write something!?

In all his groaning he texted Dan, asking him if they could do something today. Apparently Dan had been on a meeting with his agent all morning, asking if it was okay to show up now, to which Phil answered it was okay, whatever to distracting form his responsibility of writing.

Phil had been wanting to go outside, but since it was pouring down, he invited Dan over to play videogames in some of the consoles Martyn had lend him a few years ago, not realizing his flat was kind of a mess.

He had just managed to arrange a few cushions on the sofa when he heard the doorbell, meaning Dan was here.

''Hi'' Phil greeted him as soon as he opened the door, breath hitching at the sight of Dan just standing there with his messy and somehow dry curls atop of his head, a maroon jumper with the sleeves rolled up his toned arms that he had combined with black ripped skinny jeans, letting Phil see a bit of his thighs.

Those ripped jeans were making Phil have some thoughts he prefered not to share.

Dan greeted him back and steped inside Phil's flat, surprisedly pecking Phil's cheek, which instantly turned pink as if he had some magical powers to make the blue eyed blush each time he touched him.

''Thanks for letting me come over this last minute, it was so sudden so I hope I'm a good distraction for writing.'' Dan said, chuckling and showing Phil a small smile.

''Nah, it's okay, I needed to detach myself from my laptop, otherwise I will end up with the keys glued to my fingerprints'' Phil said, making both of them laugh at his remark.

''So, which game you wanna play? I have a few...''' Phil started listing the videogames he had as he led Dan to his living room, where he had already put the consoles out and a few snacks on the table.

''What about I race you in Mario Kart? I'm gonna destroy you! Best of three?'' Dan said mischeviously, sending a smirk at Phil.

Oh, so it was a competition then, uh? If Dan wanted to play, let's play. ''And what do I get when I win?'' Phil said, copying Dan's smirk.

''So confident, Lester. I will think about what I want when I win.'' Dan said, sitting down and picking one of the controllers.

Phil hummed in agreement and also sat down next to Dan, their thighs grazing as Phil picked up the controller that was left and starting the game, ''Bring it, Howell. You are going down!''

Phil suddenly felt Dan's gaze on him, making him a bit nervous, ''What?'' Phil said, turning his body a bit to face the brown eyed, who was biting his lower lip as his eyes travelled up and down Phil's body.

''Believe me Phil, I would love to go down... in more ways that you can imagine,'' Dan said in a low voice. Phil flushed deep red but didn't say anything. He wanted nothing more than forget the videogame and jump Dan just right in his sofa but no, he was determined to win this and the 'lame' flirting from Dan wasn't going to get him to lose. Oh no. No way.

Phil pressed play and both customized their characters, bickering about 'how boring and bad' car choices the other made, playing rock-paper-scissors to decide which one got to choose the traks they would be racing.

They kept bumping each other's shoulders and elbows from time to time, losing their balance for a second, enough to send the other's cars few places behind, hearing a few swear words from Dan and Phil letting out a few child-like screams everytime that happened.

It was the last race and they were even. As Phil had won the first race and Dan the second, this last one would decide who was the ultimate Mario Kart winner. Oh, and Phil was so sure it was going to be him.

''You ready to get destroyed?'' Phil said, selecting the last track they would be racing.

''Ha! You wish! C'mon, press play, I cannot wait to win this already.'' Dan remarked, rearranging his position on the sofa pressing his body even more closer to Phil's.

He pressed play but the strong and nice smell from Dan's cologne was making his head heavy, wanting nothing more than to press his face against his neck and not move for hours...

''Oh, Phil, look at you, so far behind already, you aren't gonna catch me if you keep racing like this!'' Dan laughed, making Phil come back to reality only to realize that he hadn't been plying attention and was in last place!

'Phil, concentrate, please.' he said to himself in hopes that he could beat Dan, who was in first place already and there was only a lap left.

Trying his hardest, Phil raced as good as he could, managing to be on third place just seconds before Dan's car crossed the balck and white checkered line.

''Yes! I won!'' Dan exclaimed, jumping up from the sofa to make a silly victory dance that made Phil chuckle, not even bothering to stay mad at the fact that he had lost, appreciating the adorable Dan in front of him just dancing and carefree.

Phil let him dance a bit more before he decided to take revenge, also standing up to be at Dan's eye level, ''It's not fair! All or nothing!''

Dan stopped dancing and crossed his arms, frowning at Phil, ''How is it not fair? I won two out of three, that's what we decided, I'm not risking an 'all or nothing', oh no!''

''You distracted me!'' Phil said, not knowing what more to say.

''How did I even manage to distract you? I was just playing next to you!''

''With your good looks and nice smell and...'' Phil put a hand over his mouth as he realised what he said. Could the earth swallow him now, please?

He suddenly found himself in front of a smirking Dan who was slowly taking a few steps closer to Phil, backing the blue eyed against the sofa till his thighs touched the soft armrest.

Dan touched their noses together, brushing them against each other sweetly. Phil closed his eyes, enjoying this little feather-like touch and hoping Dan would just kiss him, but apparently the player had other ideas, since he moved his head to Phil's left ear, lips just caressing the skin ''You smell pretty good too, Philip.''

Phil shivered. He freaking shivered thanks to Dan's sensual and low voice.

He felt Dan's lips against his skin, but now on his surely rosy cheek. Then again on his jaw, multiple times, getting closer and closer to his lips, where Phil finally felt Dan's salted lips on his, moving them slowly but repeatedly till Phil finally got his thoughts clear and kissed him back.

Phil felt Dan push him backwards, till both of them ended up on the couch, he under Dan's toned body, enjoying how well their bodies fitted together.

They made out for a few minutes till Dan suddenly separated, smiling mischeviously at Phil.

''What?'' Phil asked softly, admiring the job he had done by messing Dan's curls even more.

''I didn't tell you what prize I want for winning yet,'' he said, pecking Phil once more on the lips.

Phil looked at him a bit scared. What was Dan thinking about doing to him? Was going to be something sexual!? He hoped not, it was too soon, right?

''O...kay. What did you think about?'' Phil's voice trembled a bit, but not enough for Dan to notice, who sighed deeply and looked at Phil's chest, were he kept fiddling with the top button of his shirt.

'Why is he suddenly so downcast?' Phil thought. He hoped nothing was wrong.

''So, I'm leaving for a whole week this Wednesday for a secret project I cannot tell you about yet but I was thinking you could let me read some story of yours? I mean, I will probably have a few hours spare so I thought it would be nice to know what kind of stories you write, but only if you want to, of course...'' Dan rambled, still not looking at Phil.

Wait, Dan was leaving on Wednesday? For a whole week to do a 'secret project'?

And also, he wanted to read his stories? Phil wasn't used to people asking him about his stories, and less when the publishers had always told him 'no'. It felt a bit like a failure to be honest.

He heard Dan sigh frustratedly before speaking again, this time looking up at Phil, ''It's just, I'm in the public eye and you know so much about me already and I don't know half of the things about you, and I think your stories will let me see more about you, but again, only if you want to.''

Phil showed him a tiny smile. Oh Dan. He wanted to learn more about him by reading his stories? It was a touching gesture to be honest.

''Dan, yes, of course I will let you read them. I can give you the last manuscript I sent a while ago if you want to.'' Phil offered. 'Why is he so sweet?'

''Yeah, you sure?'' Dan asked, eyes a bit wide Phil had agreed.

Phil hummed and nodded, smiling at him, ''Yes, I'm sure, let me just get it, okay?''

Dan smiled back at him and separated himself from Phil, who got up and walked fast to his office, picking up the stack of papers that had been lying on his table for a while now and putting them inside an envelope.

'But what if Dan hates it? Would he ever tell him? What if he thought Phil was a mediocre writer and laughed at him for wanting to be an author?' Many thoughts passed his mind. Phil had to admit he was scared of Dan's opinion on him, but dismissed them and walked back into the living room nonetheless, where he found Dan sitting on the couch instead of lying down.

''Here,'' Phil handed him the envelope as he sat down next to him, ''my last manuscript. It's a bit long, I don't know if you will finish it in a week but...'' he trailed off, realizing he won't be seeing Dan for a week.

Taking into account that they were getting used to see each other often, Phil didn't know what would happen with them. A week wasn't that long but they were just going on dates, not even developing whatever they had further or not, they were... stuck. No labels. Phil wasn't really sure where he stood with Dan and even though it might seem silly, it made him feel a bit insecure.

''Thank you. I'm sure I will manage to read it all, don't worry. I will tell you what I think about it, see if you are a better author than I already think you are,'' Dan chuckled.

Phil laughed a bit but changed the subject, ''So... this secret project... it's only a week long, right?'' he tried to keep the question casual, not really succeding.

''Yeah, from Wednesday to Wednesday... It was very short notice and it's such a good opportunity I couldn't let go to waste.'' Dan said, ''but I will text you or call you and we can skype if you are avaliable! I don't want to stop seeing you, I'm kind of used to seeing your face, and holding your hands... and... and kissing your lips.''

Phil could have melted right into his sofa but instead he leaned in and pecked Dan on his rosy lips, ''like this?'' Phil said in a low voice, smiling, knowing Dan would probably enjoy a bit more of... action.

''No, more like...'' Dan closed the small gap between them with a bit of more force, moving his lips as he had done a few minutes before, Phil's following him in sync, enjoying the little moment between the two.

''I'll miss you. It only a week but I know I'll miss you.'' Dan said almost quietly as he touched their foreheads together once they both felt the need for oxygen.

''I'll miss you too.'' Phil repeated, leaning in for another short kiss. ''Only a week, Dan. It's only a week.''

#moonshot #moonshot - chapter 8 #amazingphil #daniel howell #phanfic #phanfiction #phanfic au #phanfiction au #fic #irphanfic #phan

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auroraphilealis · 7 years

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Steal My Heart (steal my whole life too) (3/24)

Steal My Heart (steal my whole life too) 3/24

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 @phansdick 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, @insanityplaysfics is Phil, @ineverhadmyinternetphase is Dan

(Masterlist) (AO3)

Chapter Three

Dan stood underneath the grate, eyes bright and appraising as he watched the Prince easily haul himself up to the surface. His gaze lingered on the way the Prince's muscles bulged, the way his new-found cloak flared behind him as he pulled himself up, demonstrating that the Prince did indeed have strength to match Dan's own.

This knowledge was interesting. Dan filed it away in the small corner of his brain quickly labelled 'things to remember about Prince Philip'. He was adding up every new thing he learned about this strange, intense, bumbling man who’d made it his life's mission to capture Dan, and so far, it was making an interesting picture.

...Only because Dan was doing research so as not to get killed, of course. He didn't actually have any interest in this Prince - not beyond escaping him.

At least, that was what Dan was telling himself.

The Prince's parting words struck a strange chord in Dan. So the Prince wanted things to be different next time they met? What exactly did he think was going to change?

The world had made Dan a cynic, he'd never believed in the Royal family's supposed generosity in reaching out to those less fortunate than themselves. Sure, they might let a chosen few slip up the ranks, but for the majority of the poor, poverty was all they would ever know. Dan had seen that, in the deaths of his parents and then his little brother, and no one had been able to do a thing to help them. That was when Dan decided to turn his back on a world that had done him no good, and turn to a life of riches instead.

He'd never regretted that decision - until a certain Prince with intense blue eyes had unsettled him.

Honestly, Dan shouldn't care what some stupid highborn thought about him. It made no difference. The fact that Dan's only foe in the entire land of Morellia was the Prince himself was testament enough to just how far Dan had come from that lonely orphan boy he’d once been. He was the King of Thieves. His reputation was lauded throughout the land. No, he shouldn't care one bit what some stupid Prince thought of him.

And yet... he did. Dan didn't want Prince Philip's harsh words or looks to cut through him ever again. He knew he was nothing more than a petty criminal in the Prince's eyes, but Dan - Dan was so much more than that. He felt a sudden strange desire to prove to the Prince just how much more than that he was.

Dan shook his head, attempting to rid himself of these ridiculous thoughts. Let the Prince think what he liked - he'd never change Dan's world.

Instead, Dan turned on his heel, and launched himself up and out of the passageway into the dark city streets, the black of his cloak blending in perfectly around him. He tugged his hood back down low over his face, hiding, and retreated up to the rooftops to head back to his base.

He had a crown to admire, a bloody nose to sort out, and a Prince to set another trap for.

The walk back home was a long one. Phil had maintained his calm in those last few moments with the King of Thieves, trying to prove himself in some way despite the epic meltdown he'd already managed to have in front of his thief, but now that he was free from the presence of another, he was falling apart all over again.

The panic attack hit hard then as he walked the streets of his city, and he didn’t make it a quarter of the way in before he was turning down a random side street and dropping to the ground, shoving his face between his legs as he cried and tried to re-regulate his breathing. He wasn't sure why anyone had ever bothered with the technique, though, because it wasn't helping. Instead, it was making Phil's head spin, and that only served to make him cry harder.

He didn't know what it was about tight spaces, but Phil hated them - and maybe sort of kind of hated himself a little as well: one, for allowing his thief to get away with his crown when they should have battled down there, and two, for saying the horrible things he'd said to his thief - not to mention the fact that he’d allowed his training in the Royal Guard and the way he'd been treated by the street urchins and peasants who'd tried to crawl into his bed turn him from the wants of his people, and the fight of his family.

Phil was meant to be a Prince. Perhaps he wasn't the crown Prince, but he was still a Prince, and as Prince, the needs of his people were meant to come before his own.

All this time, he'd thought taking the thieves and thugs off of the streets would be enough, but there was so much more to do, so many more important things to do. Phil had a fight to win - and it wasn't in taking down the King of Thieves anymore, though he vowed to himself he would still get justice for all the people the man had robbed. His crimes couldn't just be ignored after all.

Still. Phil wanted something to change.

His heart was heavy and he was covered in sweat by the time he managed to pull himself together, the panic attack having taken almost everything from him. It was a miracle he even made it home after all that, but he managed.

Long past the time Phil expected his family to have gone to bed, Phil trudged through the Castle doors with the intent to head up to his rooms. He’d hardly made it passed the throne room doors, however, before his older brother Martyn and his mum called out to him, having clearly been waiting up for him.

“Philip?” his Mum asked as soon as she laid eyes on him, finding Phil covered in dirt and not wearing the usual clothes of his station. “What’s happened to you? Are you alright?”

"I'm fine, mother," he reassured the Queen, smiling weakly at her. “Nothing’s happened to me. I was just doing my job,” he reassured her.

"What job? You've taken every thief off the streets, taken down the wanted list to it's very least, and we are not at war! Philip, where have you been all day?" the Queen demanded.

"Chasing the King of Thieves,” he shot back, just as sharp and keen.

Martyn and Phil's mother groaned at him, sighing as they shared a troubled glance that Phil couldn't help being annoyed at.

"Stop chasing your pride, Philip," his mother admonished.

"Stop chasing your dick," Martyn added rather unhelpfully.

The rage that had been quick to mount in Phil lately rose, and he whirled on both his family members with a heated glare.

"Perhaps I'm just trying to do some good for this kingdom, have you ever thought of that?" he spat. "Perhaps I'm trying my best to learn my place, here, to learn how to bring Grandfather's dreams to fruition. Forgive me for trying to retrieve his crown, for doing my best as head of the King's Guard and learning as I go along. I would apologize for never being home, but someone must do something to help this Kingdom before it all goes to hell. It's not all peaches and roses out there on the streets. Politics and economy aside, society has not far improved since Grandfather's time, and someone has to fix it."

Phil’s words seemed to act as a slap to the face to his family members as they recoiled from Phil, sharing a concerned look, but not bothering to reply.

“This is not a game, Mother, Martyn. I’m not just some figurehead. I have a job to do,” he added for good measure, and then he was turning on his heel, and escaping rather quickly.

Dan's base was lonely that night, as it was every night. He used to meet with the other thieves, his comrades, on cold nights like these, and while Dan wouldn't go so far as to call them his friends, he did miss their loud laughter.

Yet another thing that Prince-fucking-Philip had taken away from him.

Dan growled as he bit savagely into his roll of stale bread. A day of running around the city had left him tired with no energy to steal himself some proper food, so Dan was forced to rely on his reserves. He didn't have much here in his city base camp - it was too much effort to haul things up atop the Guardhouse roof, and he always risked getting caught if he made too much noise. After all, the Royal Guard led by Prince Philip himself were situated right underneath Dan’s feet.

Dan couldn’t help his thoughts from going back to the Prince as he finished up his meagre dinner. The conversation they’d had wasn’t quite what Dan had been expecting. At first, Prince Philip had been exactly the way Dan believed he would, calling Dan thieving scum who shouldn’t dare to even breathe the same air as him. But towards the end… when he’d led the Prince back up to the surface…

Dan was sure he’d seen something close to empathy in his Prince’s eyes.

Prince Philip had apologised, as well. He’d said he didn’t truly believe those awful things he said, that he didn’t believe Dan was truly beneath him. He’d even promised that things would change, that the system would become fairer. Dan snorted. As if anyone highborn would waste a second thinking about those beneath them, let alone to help them out.

And yet, Prince Philip had seemed so sincere. He’d seemed grateful, too, when Dan led him to the surface, and hadn’t spoiled his pride by trying to reach for the crown again. No, he’d let Dan keep that. Dan fingered its gold-and-silver surface thoughtfully, admiring the jewel in the light. It was old, but not too old - belonging to either Phil’s grandfather or great-grandfather, Dan would hazard a guess. He'd head back to his cavern in the desert tomorrow now he had the crown, and then begin to set a new trap for the Prince.

Dan sighed as he settled himself down under his furs for the night. He only had a rough pelt to sleep under, from a desert wolf he'd killed and skinned, and it was old and tattered now. He wondered what Prince Philip was sleeping on tonight - probably silken sheets surrounded by finery, as befitted highborn scum.

An image of Prince Philip in bed suddenly rose in Dan's mind, and he narrowed his eyes, casting away the appeasing thought quickly. He didn't need any more complications added to his relationship with the Prince, thank you very much, and he was already trying to do his best to rid himself of any pleasant thought he’d had of him today, replacing them with the horrible things the Prince had said.

Besides, any lingering attractions he might have had nothing to do with the Prince himself, and everything to do with the fact that Dan hadn’t lain with anyone in ages. There was no use dwelling on images of the Prince in bed, let alone anywhere else.

Dan slept little that night, knowing that the city was far less safe for him than his desert cave. Not only was there the Royal Guard to fear, but the city was full of plenty of other small-time thieves who might try their hand at sneaking into the King of Thieves’ den. Dan’s hideout was rather well concealed, up on the rooftop of the Royal Guardhouse, but he knew it wasn’t hidden from the more daring thieves who might also make use of the roofs of the city. As such, he napped with one eye open and a hand at his dagger.

As soon as the sun peeked its first rays over the horizon, Dan was up and moving, eager to get back to his desert cave. He dug around for the crown in his belongings and took a moment to admire it. The gold and silver were expertly woven together, with the Lester family crest imprinted in pride of place. Dan felt a strange little tug when he saw it. Lester - Prince Philip Lester. This crown was a tie between Dan and him. Dan didn't think he'd ever forget the trusting look in the Prince's eyes as he'd taken Dan's hand, or the way he’d almost seemed sorry that his station was so far above Dan’s. If only Dan could trust him.

Plus, now Dan knew that the Prince was afraid of confined spaces. This was news that Dan could use.

It seemed the news of Phil’s grandfather's crown being stolen from the archives had not yet quite reached the majority of Phil's family when he’d arrived home the previous night, and therefore it wasn’t until the next day when Phil woke up that he realized he’d dropped a literal bombshell on his family. The maids were the ones to rouse him come morning with the news, and he was forced to dress and make an appearance in the royal champers before six am. When he entered, he found his family's most trusted Guard already gathered and on the defensive as the King drew up a bounty with a frown on his face.

Phil took one look at the image presented there - a cloaked figure with his head lowered and glowing eyes coming from under his hood - before he realized what was happening, and then he was immediately on the defensive.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, storming in with a glare at his brother and mother, knowing this had to be their doing, as his father was largely against setting bounties.

It was his brother who turned and answered him, making Phil’s jaw clench and his fingers curl into angry fists. It was always Martyn who failed to understand the needs of their citizens.

“I’ve set a bounty on the King of Thieves. He’s gone too far, Philip. If you have been unable to apprehend him on your own -”

“Absolutely not!” Phil demanded, his worst fears coming to life as his brother spoke. He felt a swoop of fear surge through his chest, and immediately, he wanted to throw up at the very idea of his thief being hunted down by men far less capable let alone understanding than himself. Not bothering to acknowledge his strange need to protect the King of Thieves of all people, Phil didn’t hesitate to take a furious step forward even under his brother’s angry gaze until he was stood in front of his own guards, glaring up at his often naive brother.

“I’ve already had them drawn up, and the King is putting his seal there now. There will be reward for the safe return of our Grandfather’s crown, and another for the thief’s head -” his brother continued, not bothering to react to Phil’s clear anger at him. In fact, he seemed quite pleased with himself, staring smugly at Phil as Phil’s blood began to boil under his skin.

“No!” Phil shouted at him, taking another furious step forwards. “That is not how things are done in our kingdom any longer, Martyn!” He was seething and trembling with anger now, but it was more than that; for years, Phil had been working to change the ways of the guard, and now his brother was taking steps backwards to undo everything that Phil had worked so hard to accomplish.

“He’s stolen our Grandfather’s crown, Philip. That’s capital punishment.”

Phil rushed forward, then, and slammed his hands down on the table his brother and father were sat at, chest heaving as he glared at them.

“There will be no more death on my watch, Martyn. Father has agreed to repeal the Capital Punishment. The news was meant to go out tomorrow. I will not allow this bounty to be released! The King of Thieves is my problem. I will take care of him, and there will be no blood on our hands.”

When Phil looked to his father for back-up, he found the King smiling and winking at him as he verbally agreed to do as Phil had said, already taking the thousands of bounty pages they’d had drawn up that morning and scraping them in the bin, not bothering to look twice or acknowledge Martyn’s indignant squawk of betrayal next to him.

“That’s unfair, father! You agreed! There needs to be a punishment for this! A common thief such as him should not be allowed to get away with stealing from the royal crown!” Martyn complained, sending Phil the most hateful look that he had ever seen. It made Phil’s blood boil, because he and his brother had always gotten along, but not when it came to punishment and politics, it seemed.

“Father also agreed to repeal capital punishment, Martyn! Putting a bounty on the King of Thieves will only weaken our arguments. Do you have any idea what kind of damage that would cause to our regime!?” he demanded, only for his father to cut in before the two could get any more heated than they already were.

“That is quite enough. Martyn, your brother is right. We’re trying to move forward with the justice system, not back. The King of Thieves will pay for his thievery, but not with his life. We will give your brother a little more time to stop him, and that’s that,” the King insisted, looking both stern and amused all at once.

Phil could do nothing but roll his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest because he, at least, had the grace to know when he’d won.

Martyn, on the other hand, failed to throw a tantrum when he lost, and before any more words could be said, he was storming from the room with his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

The Queen was staring disapprovingly at Phil, but Phil didn’t care.

“He was only trying to help, dear,” she tried.

Phil shot her a look.

“And how does killing anyone who does the smallest thing wrong, help? It’s just a crown, mother. And it’s not as if he broke into the actual castle. I hardly see how murder is the way to go.”

The Queen didn’t have a reply to that, turning her gaze away, slightly ashamed. They’d had this argument before, when Phil had still been trying to get capital punishment repealed in the first place, and he knew that he had won.

The King, meanwhile, was giving Phil a knowing look - one that it took Phil a moment to decipher. His grin was suggestive, and he kept glancing at Phil’s outerwear. Phil realized with a start that he’d automatically put on the green cloak he’d bought himself to blend in on the streets better, and flushed.

“Stop it, father,” he commanded, cheeks turning a bright red. “There’s nothing going on,” he insisted.

The King shrugged his shoulders.

“I never said there was.”

With another annoyed huff of embarrassment, Phil turned on his heel, and left. It was more than obvious to him that his father seemed to be on the same page as Martyn when it came to Phil’s obsession with the King of Thieves, but while Martyn was teasing, Phil’s father seemed to be serious in his belief that Phil had an ulterior motive to stalking the King of Thieves.

There was nothing going on, no ulterior motives, and Phil was sick of his family teasing him. His unreasonable need to protect the man was nothing more than pride on his part. Phil wanted to be the one to take him down. Phil wanted to prove that he was better.

But mostly, Phil just wanted to repeal capital punishment, and do as he had promised just last night - make a change, and create a safe place for his people.

Reassured that no god-forsaken mercenary or would-be-hero would be out on the streets ready to attack should they see the King of Thieves, Phil retired to the guard house, discarding his cloak as he went so that fewer people would have a chance to recognize him in said outfit.

There would be no more death in the name of justice in this kingdom, for that, Phil would make sure, and he would not allow any more of his people to become criminals in the name of “justice.” Encouraging murder in return for riches was never going to happen again, so long as Phil could make it so.

Phil spent the rest of the day locked away in his office in the guard house, right next to the palace gates. If he was wallowing in self-pity and ruminating on confused thoughts regarding the King of Thieves, well no one had to know, even if it was more than obvious with the way he snapped at everyone who tried to speak with him.

There was paperwork to be done, and no time to think on petty thieves who had gotten under Phil’s skin.

He didn’t have a crush, no. He didn’t like his thief, of course not. How could he? That just wasn’t possible.

And yet, as Phil scribbled away on parchment after parchment, trying to press forward with bills of change, he couldn’t help thinking that yeah, there really was something more going on here. It wasn’t just Phil’s desperate desire to avoid murder staying his hand anymore; it was something more.

Sighing, Phil dropped his quill and shoved his face in his hands.

HIs heart was beating way too fast to be anything but - no, he wasn’t even going to think the word. He wasn’t going to fall in love with a criminal. Phil couldn’t do that. The King of Thieves was no-one. It didn’t matter if he’d been kind to Phil last night, it didn’t matter if he was more loyal and honest than most people Phil knew, it didn’t matter if he treated Phil like an equal.

Phil could not fall in love with the King of Thieves. He could not.

And even if he did, the King of Thieves would never fall in love with him back.

Shaking his head once more, Phil turned back to the papers on his desk, and started to draft up something entirely different, rather than just signing off on requests.

Come morning, he’d start initiating changes to go along with the repeal of the capital punishment, ultimately changing Morellia for the better.

It wasn’t going to be easy, Phil knew that. He’d been dealing with his family and the guard for years now, and the justice system in the Capital in particular was rigid, but Phil was Head of the Royal Guard and a Prince. He would find a way to get his way.

Things would change, or else the people would revolt. Phil just had to make the rest of the Royals, the Guards, and the High Court see this and make a change. Things were not well the way things were now, and while crime was never the answer and would always be punished, Phil had decided it couldn't continue on like this.

So, over the course of the next week, Phil drew up plans to help destroy the class differences that had existed since long before even his own family's time, knowing even as he wrote them that this would be the most difficult task he’d ever faced.

A week passed before Dan entered the Capital again.

He’d spent that week squirreled away in his desert hideout, hunting to replenish his stock of food out where it was easier to come by. He’d lived alone in the desert for years, and knew it like the back of his hand; where the best spots to find water were, and where he could hunt down animals for their meat and their skins. The rest of the time he spent curled up on his blankets, reading scrolls by lamplight or scratching out his own words with an old, scrappy quill and whatever parchment he could steal or make himself from the skins of the animals he caught.

His desert cavern wasn’t much, but it was his.

Still, he had a job to do, and Dan’s time wasn’t spent idly. No, he spent the week plotting, thinking of the best way to go about stealing the next time he entered the Capital in a way that was bound to get Prince-fucking-Philip’s attention.

Dan still had the ring he’d stolen, the one in which the stone looked like the exact shade of green-blue-yellow as Prince Philip’s eyes. Sometimes, Dan would catch himself taking it out of his pocket, playing with the fine gold and admiring the jewel, lost in his thoughts.

The Prince was a quandary, a problem, for Dan. If nothing else, he was Dan’s biggest foe, and the only man with the capability of capturing him. Not that Dan would ever let that happen.

Dan should have just killed him while he’d had the chance. The passageway where they’d fought had been tiny, yes, but the Prince had been terrified and it would have been easy. It wasn’t as if Dan had never killed before.

It was just… for some reason, the thought of seeing the light drain from Prince Philip’s stormy eyes set Dan’s stomach roiling.

It was ridiculous. Dan didn’t have much of a guilty conscience left - he knew he stole for the greater good, that what he did for the poor was worth whatever crimes he might have to commit to get there. Prince Philip was standing in the way of that good, and yet…

And yet, Dan enjoyed his company too much to kill him. These past few weeks had been the most fun he’d had in ages, deliberately setting up traps for the Prince to walk straight into. He hadn’t had someone to play with since he was a child, and this feud with the Prince was exactly like the kind of games Dan had invented for his brother, before he fell sick. They used to chase each other all around their village, setting traps or lying in wait prepared to ambush each other, or ganging up together to surprise their father.

Dan missed those days, and the Prince was giving him a chance to have fun again. Dan wasn’t ready to give up the game yet.

So he plotted. And when he returned to the Capital a week later, it was with a plan; only, Dan was more than surprised upon finally sneaking back through the city gates with his hood pulled low over his head to find the city in uproar over rumours coming from the Palace itself.

Apparently, Captain Philip, AKA Prince Philip, the leader of the Royal Guard and the bane of Dan's existence, had started drawing up plans for a drastic remodelling of the class system. His ideas weren't perfect, but they were certainly better than anything else currently in place, from what Dan could gather, and his remodeling of the justice system was even more drastic.

Dan secreted himself into a corner of his favoured tavern to hear more, where he was known enough for no one to ask questions, but not known enough for his name to be dropped. As such, he kept his cloak hood pulled right down over his face. He had no doubt that there would be some sort of description of him floating around by now - Captain Philip had seen his face twice, after all.

Dan listened to the gossip from the table next to his, nursing a cup without actually drinking from it. He needed to keep up appearances, but he couldn't afford to get drunk - not with what he was planning.

"Have you heard?" One woman was excitedly telling her husband one table over from Dan, "The Prince has been out in the city again today, conducting talks with the people."

"Which Prince?" the husband responded gruffly.

"The younger one. Philip - Captain of the Royal Guard." The woman lowered her voice secretively. "I've heard people calling him 'Protector of the Realm' now. He's all but eradicated crime, and he's only been Captain for less than a year!"

Dan snorted into his drink. That bumbling fool, Protector of the Realm? Dan couldn't help but wonder what Captain Philip himself would make of all this, if he knew of these rumours. No doubt it would give him something else to lord over Dan.

Perhaps Dan would ask him, when he no doubt saw him later that night.

Having gathered enough news for the time being, Dan rose to his feet and dropped a few coins on the table (stolen from unsuspecting citizens out on the street). On his way past the other table, he deftly swiped the man's wallet, secreting it into one of his many cloak pockets on his way out of the door.

Once he was outside, Dan made sure his cloak hood completely covered his face before he began striding purposefully towards the city library. He'd been chased over its rooftop by Captain Philip not so long ago, but now he had plans to lead the Prince deep underground - and he was counting on the fact that the Prince wouldn't like it.

Dan had never managed to retrieve his favourite dagger from his last spat with the Prince, so he'd been forced to settle on a slightly lesser blade - which was something else Dan planned to bring up in their later confrontation. But first off, he had to set things up.

Once Dan reached the grand entrance to the library, Dan slipped into an alley where he had a good view of the wide oak doors, gripping his knife in his hand. For this to work, he needed to make a lot of noise, and he had to wait for it to get dark.

He watched closely as the working day came to an end, and the last of the workers began trickling down the steps. When the only person left was a single guard preparing to lock up the giant, heavy doors, Dan made his move.

Quick as a flash, he was right up behind the guard with a knife to his back. "Stay still if you want to live," Dan purred into his ear, a thrill going through his veins when the man tensed, a sharp gasp escaping him.

"Shut up, too," Dan added, "And obey the King of Thieves."

The man's eyes were wide with horror when Dan span him around, tilting his face just enough to reveal his dark eyes. The man looked utterly terrified. "A-are you really...?!"

"Yes, you've looked your fill," Dan answered impatiently. He didn't have time for this. "Now, do exactly as I say, and maybe I'll let you live to go home to your family tonight. Understand?"

Speechless, the man could only nod.

"Good." Dan released the man, making sure to keep his knife very evident. "Now. You're going to unlock those doors and give me access to the crypt. Once I'm safely down there - with no interruptions - you're going to run along straight to the Palace and give a message to Prince-fucking-Philip. Understand?"

The man nodded faintly.

"Good. Tell him these exact words: The King of Thieves is waiting for him, if his scared little arse dares come down to meet me - I'll be in the crypt."

The man all but gasped. "I can't speak to a Royal with such disrespect!"

Dan grinned evilly, playing with his knife. "If you’d prefer, I could just kill you right here."

The man's face blanched. With a final, hate-filled stare, he got to work unlocking the doors.

Dan grinned as he was shown the way down into the crypt. He'd have plenty to entertain himself with down here among the ancient scrolls, and the cramped, tight, underground space was absolutely perfect. Exactly what he figured the Prince would hate. He might even manage to steal a few precious manuscripts while he was here - he'd heard there were some exquisite first editions.

Dan sent the guard on his way to the Palace then, settling in to lie in wait, knife still in hand. He'd have the Prince's full attention again soon.

Phil's time in the city streets had only been growing since the night he’d determined to make some changes, and it was now split between protecting and serving his people, and talking with them. Desperate to know everything he could from every walk of life, Phil had been pressing and pressing, digging into the deep, dark crevices of city life, until he’d managed to crack open more than a few eggs. While Phil could never claim to truly understand completely, as he could never truly be in their shoes - and not just because he didn’t want to or because he thought he might not be able to survive on his own, but because that kind of vulnerability would lead to attempts on his life - he was happy to hear their concerns.

There were plenty of people who were angry with him, though, plenty of peasants who claimed there was nothing Phil could do for them or that they didn’t want his pity, throwing mince pies and even knives on more than one occasion at Phil’s face. There were plenty of the working class as well who reacted in much the same way, merchants and healers and blacksmiths who spat at Phil’s shoes, angry and spiteful that a royal dare even attempt to understand them.

But there were also those who looked at Phil with curious, suspicious glances, and spilled all - including their crimes, just trying to make Phil understand. These people, Phil looked on with concern, nodding along grimly as they admitted to the horrible things they’d been forced to succumb to just to survive, reaching out with a calming hand to promise they would not be harmed. These people filled Phil in on their concerns, on the hardships of their lives, and grimaced with half-hearted belief that Phil might actually one day make it all better, filling Phil with the hope that maybe… maybe he might actually be able to do it.

The hardest part, though, was when Phil walked into the most desolate part of town and met the orphans, all curled up together in small huddles of warmth under low hanging shelters that hardly offered any help from the elements of the earth. His heart broke at the very sight of them, at the way they formed their own families and killed to survive, turning to lives of thievery and ganghood. Speaking with them… that nearly crushed Phil’s soul.

He’d known, of course he’d known, how many children went hungry on the streets of his home, but he’d never been forced to confront it quite like this, inviting their stories and pardoning them for all that they’d done, offering them snips of food and money that Phil had on his person in a sad attempt to alleviate some of his own guilt.

Looking at all those children, lost behind the veil of poverty and merchanthood, reminded Phil of just how much he’d failed them. With no safeguards in place, Phil had left these children with no one to take care of them, desolate and living in their own filth, unable to move up in the world because there was nobody around to help them step up. Seeing the suffering of these children, these children who Phil and his family had abandoned, broke his heart, and he knew right then and there that there was something he had to do - only he didn’t know what.

The centuries of increased crime rate could be blamed for this, not to mention the lack of care on the governing facilities’ part throughout the years even before the Lester family had taken the throne, but Phil didn’t know quite how to fix it. It was a system so old, far away kingdoms still used it, abused it, and Phil was left with a pile of broken ideas and a sunken heart. As nothing more than a prince who’d spent most of his life learning how to be proper royalty, learning of his own history, and training to be in the King’s Guard, he had no real idea how any of his ideas would pan out, how he’d implement them if he could, or if they’d even work when he did.

So, with sunken shoulders and a great burden weighing heavy on Phil’s heart, he set out to return to the palace with a list of ideas for his most trusted advisors to help him look over. Peej, as city director, had been the most helpful so far, but even he was unsure quite what Phil wanted, not that it was his fault. Phil only had grand ideas, and overly wishful hopes. It wasn’t much to go on, even for someone as knowledgeable in city politics as Peej.

Phil was just on his way to Peej’s chambers for the millionth time that week when a guard shot past him, headed straight for the palace gates through the gardens Phil had grown up in as if his ass was on fire, looking breathless and terrified.

Phil’s fingers launched straight to the dagger at his waist, curling there as he glanced about himself in fear that something terrible had happened and that the guard was trying to deliver the news.

He didn’t have much time to ponder that thought at all before the guard seemed to catch himself, skidding to a halt and turning back to shoot towards Phil, eyes wide and frightened as he took in the man much taller than himself.

"Prince Philip, sir!" he shouted, breathless.

Reaching out to clasp the man reassuringly on the shoulder, Phil nodded at him, brow wrinkled in worry. "What is it? Are you okay? What's happened?"

"The King of Thieves," the guard stuttered out, eyes darting everywhere but Phil's face as he swallowed thickly, arms rigid at his sides.

The name was like a shock of cold water down Phil's spine, all previous thoughts of his day completely wiped from his mind.

"What's happened?" he demanded this time, only he couldn’t decide whether the terror he was feeling was for his thief or his kingdom.

"My deepest apologies, sire, I had no choice,” the guard said, his voice shaking with very real fear as he tried to keep it together for his Prince. “He held me under a knife, threatened my life and my family’s, I had to, sire, please forgive me," the guard continued to ramble.

Heart beating hard in his chest, Phil merely shook his head, rattling the guard by his hold on his shoulder.

"Yes, fine, you are forgiven, your life was at stake. Just tell me what's happened!"

"The King of Thieves, he asked me to deliver a message to you. He said, and forgive me sire, 'The King of Thieves is waiting for him, if his scared little arse dares come down to meet me - I'll be in the crypt.'"

Immediately Phil's blood began to boil, and he was seeing red, fingers tightening involuntarily around the guard’s shoulder. He only noticed when he saw the man flinch, and immediately released his hold on him, but his mind was spinning, and his already elevated heart rate only seemed to increase more with his own fear, because the crypt was one of the lowest points of the semi-public library, the rooms small and cramped.

It was Phil's worst fear come to life. He'd rarely been down there, and it had always been terrifying to feel the weight of the Earth nearly crushing him the few times he had. The ceilings were low there, and despite the concrete and stone creating the rooms, the smell of dirt and soil lingered until it was far too obviously underground for Phil to trick his mind into thinking otherwise.

And the King of Thieves was waiting down there for him, more aware of Phil's fear than anyone else in the entire kingdom, including his parents and brother.

Swallowing hard, Phil nodded and sent the guard on his way.

"Go home to your family. Take the next few days off. What is the name of your supervisor? I will speak to him. Did you see his face?" Phil asked, eyes glazed over and unfocused until he realized the danger his thief had put himself in by revealing himself to this guard.

The guard shook his head. "No, sire. He kept his hood low. I saw only his eyes." Here, the guard shivered, as if the brown that Phil had come to quite enjoy were terrifying instead of intriguing.

"Right. Off you go then," Phil dismissed him, and hardly payed it any mind as an officer’s name was thrown at him, easily recognizable, before the guard bowed and ran.

The crypt, then. Phil had promised himself he'd never let his thief use his weakness against him again, and yet here they were, with Phil being forced to face his greatest fear once again.

He didn't bother continuing his trip up to the Castle. It hardly mattered now when Phil had everything he needed right there on his person, and he headed straight down a different path that would lead him to the library, and the crypt below.

It was a struggle, keeping his breathing and fear under control, but Phil would do it. The King of Thieves was taunting him, and Phil was determined to prove himself once again.

Dan spent his time in the crypt well, browsing the shelves as he moved in slow circles around it, getting to know his surroundings enough that the Princel wouldn’t have the upper hand - not that Dan truly thought he would considering Dan knew of his fear of enclosed spaces, of which this most certainly was.

He never revealed this to anyone if he could help it, but Dan absolutely loved reading, and being in this room was the best thing in the world. He loved the feeling of parchment under his fingers, the way words could make him feel, and how much knowledge they could hold. Being surrounded by so much pure knowledge was destined to make him glow with satisfaction, even if the Prince didn’t show up.

Not many thieves knew how to read, but Dan had been lucky enough to have an educated father. Some of his fondest memories, from before he'd been orphaned, had been of his father reading to him, gently pointing out the strange symbols until Dan could make sense of them himself. After his mother's death in giving birth to Dan's little brother, his father had begun to waste away, and the only time Dan had ever been able to get through to him had been through written words. After his father's death, Dan had then read to his little brother, and then he'd been taken away from Dan too, until Dan was left all alone.

For some time after that, Dan had been too furious to read anymore. He’d ripped up every single one of his father's manuscripts, even the fairy tales that had been Dan's favourite - an action he regretted to this very day. As he'd grown into thieving and quickly become the best of the best, Dan had stolen scrolls whenever he could, always on the lookout for those same fairytales his father had once read to him. Dan had never had any luck finding them, though.

But he'd never spent much time looking anywhere quite as extensive as this crypt, let alone the library above him.

Dan scoured the shelves slowly, his fingers ghosting through the rows and rows of dusty scrolls. Perhaps he could ask Prince Philip about it, once he finally got down here - maybe they could strike another deal. Dan would be willing to relent a little for such a precious item. If things went sour, though, Dan knew of a secret way to escape out of the back of the crypt and back into the passages of the underground world. He wouldn't allow the Prince to capture him this night.

The easiest bit was walking in. Phil had tight control over himself in the beginning, he always did, and it often allowed him to move through passages that otherwise would have made him throw up without alerting anyone else to his fear. The difference this time, however, was that Phil wouldn't be moving through this place and out to the other side as fast as he could. He would be spending an undetermined amount of time down here instead, and it didn't escape his mind that this was an obvious ploy on his thief's part.

The longer they stayed in the crypt, the harder it would be for Phil to fight, and the more his honor would be destroyed. No, Phil had no plans to fight tonight, nor any plans to try and capture his thief. Instead, he’d come down here to show his thief that there was nothing that could be done that would frighten him away - the Prince would always face his fear.

Of course, his reluctance to fight had nothing to do with his secret desire not to catch his thief at all, nor did it have anything to do with his unwillingness to give up his time with the King of Thieves, and his willingness to meet the man down here at all was completely unrelated to any desire Phil had to merely see his face again.

The further down Phil went, the thicker the air seemed to grow. Panic was squeezing at his chest already, but Phil had practice ignoring it, and at least for now, he knew he would be fine. His eyes darted about the small enclosure he walked down towards the crypt’s normally locked door, as he kept a lookout for any signs of traps or his thief the closer he got.

It occurred to him then just how disconcerting the blind faith he seemed to have in the man actually was, and yet, Phil couldn’t help thinking that he he had proven himself.

Perhaps Phil's life was far too boring if he was this trusting, this excited, to meet the one person who made things that little bit fun. Not that Phil would admit it. No, the King of Thieves was infuriating, annoying, and that was it.

When Dan finally heard footsteps, he was instantly alert, dropping into a crouch and drawing his cloak tight around himself. He still had his hood up, and he left it that way for now in case the new arrival wasn't the Prince. He knew this strategy was risky. The Prince could very well come down here with a whole host of backup, or even not come down himself and just send down others to fetch Dan for him. But Dan had a hunch that catching him had become a matter of pride for the Prince, and his hunches tended to serve him well.

As Dan sidled amongst the shelves, peering through them at the easily viewable entrance to the crypt, he caught sight of the Prince moving reluctantly into the library, already breathing heavily. Even better, he seemed to be alone. Dan smirked a little - he was right, these places clearly upset the Prince, and he didn't appear to have brought anyone else with him.

The Prince even looked a little faint, red faced and quite obviously trembling.

For some reason, something in Dan's chest tugged at that, wanting to allow the Prince freedom from his fear. Maybe he shouldn't have picked the underground to do this, not when the Prince was so clearly upset by it.

But Dan was a ruthless thief. He couldn't - no, he wouldn't - have such feelings about a highborn.

Instead, Dan stayed well hidden behind his row of shelves, and spoke into the flickering light with a low, sultry voice. "Well, well, well. Prince Philip. What a delight it is to see you again."

Phil’s breathing had gone completely uneven by the time he reached the cracked open doorway of the crypt, and he did his best to ignore the spinning in his head as he pushed it open and stepped cautiously inside. After a quick look around, Phil found no sign of his thief until a voice piped up, and then Phil was running an even more calculating gaze around the rather large room.

His eyes scanned over scroll upon scroll lined along the walls and bookcases scattered about. This was the most attention Phil had paid to the crypt, well, ever.

"The same could be said for you if you'd only reveal yourself to me," Phil taunted back, surprised by his own flirtation, and blushing madly as it hit him what he'd said this time. "Why have you summoned me? You're clearly looking for more than a fight,” he added, clearing his throat and trying to pretend he was more confident than he actually was.

Dan couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face at that. He'd hoped the Prince would come and see him, yes, and he'd hoped they would talk rather than fight, but he wasn't expecting the prince to be quite so flirtatious or playful with him.

Not that Dan was complaining. This game, he could play.

"Is that eagerness I hear?" Dan taunted, edging a little closer to the edge of the shelves he was hidden behind. "I am flattered. First, though, I need to know you're alone. I only let certain people see my face."

For the first time in his thief's presence, Phil chuckled. Actually chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest. He liked the way his thief's voice sounded, curling that accent around his words, but also clearly elated by the excitement in Phil's voice that Phil had never even meant to let get across.

The way his stomach curled in delight at his thief announcing he only showed his face to certain people, Phil being one of those disclosed few, was something Phil would have to analyze later.

Aware that the King of Thieves’ gaze was upon him, Phil glanced pointedly around him, and moved further into the room, planting himself in the center despite how that seemed to make the room swirl and spin even more around him.

"I believe if I had an escort, you'd be able to hear them by now, nor would they allow me to put myself in such direct danger, exposed as I am with no view of yourself," he announced, glancing pointedly around him again as his breathing hitched a bit. He had to close his eyes against the spinning, but it only made it worse, and he opened them again slowly, not wanting to show any more weakness than he already had.

“But I’ll ask again. Why did you summon me here?”

Dan's lips curled upward when he heard the Prince chuckle, but he paused as his brain registered the Prince's question. He couldn't very well give the Prince the real reason he'd come down here - because he’d wanted the Prince's attention back on him, where it belonged - but he didn't really have another excuse. The Prince was right about the fact that he didn't want to fight.

Trouble was, Dan hadn’t given himself an alternative excuse - which may have been a mistake, with hindsight.

As it was, Dan cast about for something he could say, and his gaze alighted on the scrolls again. He hummed softly. "Yes, well, I didn't want to fight. You're right. Actually, I want your advice."

His thief's next words came as a direct surprise, and Phil's eyes narrowed, almost expecting a trap though he continued to wait, still stood still in the middle of the room, wishing his thief would just reveal himself already. The comfort of another human being in the room might actually help Phil’s panic just then.

"It is my duty as your prince to help you. I'm all ears," he stated lowly, a low curl of something forming in his stomach at the idea of belonging to his thief. Not that that was what he'd meant, of course not, not at all.

"You're my Prince, are you?" Dan's brows shot up, his tone still teasing, and he finally stepped out from around the shelves, pulling his hood down in the process.

It took another few seconds before the King of Thieves revealed himself, but when he did, he pulled back the hood of his cloak easily enough, revealing himself in all of his glory to Phil. Brown hair had been swept back and off of his thief's forehead in an appealing way, but it was the eyes that captured and held his attention.

The trust that movement alone represented, the King of Thieves showing himself to Phil, made his heart pound even harder in his chest, and it really wasn’t helping the tight control he currently had over himself.

Where was his usual anger that he couldn't capture this man? Why was Phil so… so distracted by his desire to know him instead? He couldn't be thinking like this, no matter how attractive his thief was. Phil had to remind himself that this man's flirting meant nothing, that no one could ever want Phil as more than the promise of royalty in their life.

He had no room for love or lust. Not that he'd know what to do with either even if he did.

Dan's lips curled up again at the way the Prince's gaze alighted upon him the second that Dan showed himself. He liked that, he liked having the Prince's attention solely on him, right where it belonged.

And Dan was definitely not going to be analysing that feeling.

"Well, if you are my Prince,” Dan purred, stepping up closer to the Prince until he was right in his space, “Do I get to order you around? Force you to do my bidding? Will you answer the wishes of a lowly thief?" Dan looked down at him, lowering his tone. "Even if I am the King of thieves?"

Phil might have been a bit mortified to have his thief coming so close to him with that tone in his voice, suggestive and eager and flirtatious all in one. "I answer all my people's wishes," he whispered, gulping. His words being thrown back at him hurt, knowing that he'd called his thief that first. "Or, I try to. I do my best," he continued, turning sad eyes to the floor with the knowledge that he'd let his people down. He didn't react in any other way to his thief's words, knowing they were nothing more than teasing, that the King of Thieves had no desire to do the things his tone of voice suggested.

Dan licked his lips, considering the Prince’s words. He was implying he could help Dan, and while Dan didn't know if it was a good idea to reveal this much of himself to the Prince - this wasn't anything Dan had told anyone before - something innate within him trusted the Prince. After all, it seemed that the Prince had come down here entirely alone, and Dan did still need an excuse for why he’d asked the Prince to come here.

"I want a scroll. A particular one - the story of the fairytales. I think the author is Alexandrus. Do you know it? And more importantly - is it here?" Dan waved a hand around the shelves of the underground crypt, watching the Prince's face closely for his reaction.

"Alexandrus' fairy tales?" Phil repeated, intrigued by the request. His eyes scanned the crypt they stood in, and then flitted back out to the rest of the library. Something like relief fluttered through the all encompassing pressure on his chest as he realized where they might be. "I do know it. And it is here, just not in this room. The original scrolls have not found their way into our collection. Perhaps not as precious as you'd usually prefer, but we do own a copy. In the central library."

Phil wasn't sure a copy would be good enough for his thief, but regardless, he would be relieved to leave this room as soon as possible, and preferably with his thief in tow.

Despite himself, Dan's eyes brightened with interest the minute the Prince mentioned that they had a copy of the fairy tales. Not a first edition, but a copy was more than enough. Dan longed to run his fingers over the familiar words again, to reacquaint himself with one of his father's greatest loves. And he wanted to show them to the Prince, as well.

But no. That was ridiculous. The Prince wouldn't care, and Dan would never ever reveal his true motives for wanting the manuscript. No matter how much those intense blue eyes might make him want to spill his entire life story. Dan never let anyone in. If people got close to him, it only hurt more when he lost them. And a Prince would be worst of all.

"A copy will do just fine." Dan, despite his best efforts, could not keep excitement completely out of his tone. "And I imagine you want to get out of here. I'd apologise for making you come down here, but I had to get your attention somehow." Dan gave him a cheeky wink, smirk back in place. "Go ahead - take me to your central library. I trust you're not going to turn me in."

Clearing his throat, Phil looked up and met his thief's gaze once more, trying for a weak smile. "As of now, you’re right. I would very much like to leave this place, now. Though, if you really wanted my attention, there are other ways to get it." The tease was back in Phil's voice as well, but he didn't have the confidence needed to pull it off quite the way his thief did, the great flirt himself, and he found himself terrified to dig himself a hole he couldn't get himself out of.

Flirting with the King of Thieves would do nothing but breed feelings in Phil. Soft hearted, he'd always been, leaving him with the need to cut himself off completely from the lost idea of love. Too many times to count, Phil had very nearly fallen for the ploys of his classmates and the girls who’d wanted nothing more than to rule over Phil and the rest of his Kingdom.

Surprised by his thief's reassurance that he trusted in Phil, Phil turned a stunned gaze onto him, watching as he moved to allow Phil to lead the way for both of them.

"Come along, then. I'll show you where our greatest treasures lie." Phil didn't know what his thief wanted with the copy of the tales, and he didn't truly believe his thief would see his scrolls as important as Phil did, but at least to him, they were his greatest treasures, treasures he was happy to share with his thief.

If his expression was a little bit more sad now, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Phil wanted, in that moment, to have more with this man in his company.

Dan couldn't cope with the sad tone in the Prince's voice. It was in his eyes, too - those big sad eyes that somehow managed to hold Dan in place, to pin him down, to capture him in a way that the King of Thieves should never be captured.

Dan recalled thinking that those eyes were dangerous, and he thought he was being proved right, right now. With those eyes turned on him, Dan found himself with an irrepressible itch to make everything better, to bend over backwards to make sure this Prince - his Prince - was ok.

Dan couldn't reveal any of those thoughts, but he was powerless to do nothing.

"Don't worry," Dan said lightly as he followed the Prince out of the crypt, "From what I hear, you're doing a good enough job of protecting your people. Have you heard the latest things they're calling you? 'Protector of the Realm.'" Dan allowed himself a small chuckle. "I admit, I snorted when I first heard, knowing what a bumbling fool you really are."

To soften the harsh words, Dan's tone was soft and almost fond. He narrowed his eyes a little. This was just playful - that's all. A little bit of playful teasing, because the Prince was too much fun to play with.

"I'd be interested in these other ways to get your attention," Dan added. "Might be easier on you if I don't have to keep tearing up half your city just to have a word."

As soon as the King of Thieves had given Phil the go ahead, he was leading them out from the underground and back up into the main library, making a quick turn to the left to take his thief to what was considered the Central Library, breathing deeply in relief when his chest almost immediately seemed to relax, the terror and panic gone. As Phil breathed deeply and smiled in relief, he turned right, leading his thief further into the library, knowing almost exactly where he might find the scrolls his thief was looking for.

Casting his gaze behind him, and all too surprised he'd been so willing to have the King of Thieves trail behind him where he could pounce on Phil when he least expected it, Phil furrowed his brow in disbelief at his words. "Protector of the Realm?" he questioned, not wanting to focus on the fond tone of his thief's voice as he spoke of Phil's work this last week. He couldn't read too much into that.

Shaking his head, Phil closed his eyes briefly. "That's - far more than what I am," Phil replied. He sighed, though, at the thief’s tiny jab. "For a bumbling fool, I've been quite good at managing to surprise you."

They took another turn at Phil's direction that led them down a slightly darker hall of bookshelves and scrolls, hidden towards the back where Phil used to hide from the girls in his class who were all trying to vie for his attention. This is where he'd read the fairy tales, discovered the tales his family didn't want him to read, about dragons and ghouls and the men who'd faced them. They were just stories, made up, his family had told him, but Phil had always enjoyed them.

"I thought you enjoyed tearing up my city," Phil rumbled back, but he couldn’t deny the giddy feeling in his chest at the idea of his thief occasionally just wanting a chat. "But, perhaps… we could have an agreement. A way to meet on neutral ground. That is, if we thought we could trust one another."

Phil thought they'd proved that so far, but he still had to ask.

Dan couldn't stop himself from lighting up the minute they entered the central library. He'd been to some of the richest places in the land, seen treasures far greater than any in this room, and held priceless jewels worth more than his weight in gold, but never before had Dan been so immediately enraptured with a place.

The library was beautiful.

It was all Dan could do to force himself to keep a steady pace behind his Prince. All he wanted was to run around the aisles screeching excitedly about how much knowledge there was contained in this room, and devour every single scroll he could get his hands on. But Dan had a reputation to uphold - a reputation he'd already been letting slip around his Prince.

Dan was a little worried by that.

Instead, he focused on his Prince's words, although his eyes constantly moved around the room, taking in as much as he possibly could.

"Don't get cocky, Captain Philip," Dan murmured, leaning forward just a little to breathe his words directly into the Prince's ear. "It's probably in your best interests to remember just who you're dealing with here. You may have surprised me, but only because I let you get too close."

Perhaps not entirely true - the Prince was far more skilled than Dan had been expecting - but Dan wasn't about to tell him that.

Phil shivered as his thief pushed close to him again, whispering directly into Phil's ear the way he'd done before. No longer fearing for his life, Phil was able to take in the way it made him feel, and, well… that was different. That was new. Phil liked the way it felt so intimate to have his thief this close, as if they were sharing a secret the way he whispered into Phil's ear.

"Then why'd you let me close?" Phil whispered back, snaking an arm around his thief's waist to drag him near enough to say it into his ear as well, releasing him again almost immediately with a vicious smirk of his own that would never betray the way Phil's heart was racing hard in his chest.

Stop it, Phil, he told himself. Don't fall for this. You know it means nothing to him.

Dan froze the instant he felt his Prince's arm wind around his waist. No one ever touched Dan. No one. Not unless they were trying to kill him, which no one had dared try for years, or steal from him, in which case Dan would not hesitate to cut off their hands. This touch - this kind of teasing familiarity - was not something Dan was used to.

He wasn't sure how to react, and that threw Dan off. He was always self assured and unsurprised, but somehow, this Prince with the deep blue eyes constantly stopped him in his tracks.

Trying to cover his momentary shock, Dan dropped back behind his Prince, watching his every move with sharp eyes. The proximity to the fairy tales was making Dan jittery, and he could feel the familiar rush that came with thieving accompanied by something warm and new - a feeling he hadn't had since he'd lost his family.

He put it down to the memories of his father, and refused to believe the warm sensation had anything to do with the Prince beside him.

"I could agree to a neutral meeting ground," Dan agreed easily enough, although his brown eyes flashed at the Prince's back. "As long as this copy you fetch for me is adequate. And, of course, you'd have to trust me." Dan hummed, his tone turning dark for a minute. “Will you throw your lot in with the likes of me? You said yourself last time, no one of your stature should bother themselves with peasants. Am I correct?" Dan asked, wanting to move the conversation along, and not dwell on the way that Phil had touched him.

Behind Dan's teasing sat a hard truth. Dan was still cynical, despite hearing the way the citizens of the capital had been talking about the Prince's latest plans. Dan had seen the Prince's true colours in those underground passageways - even if the Prince had apologised. Dan was not one to easily forget.

They moved on, Phil's thief dropping back to follow behind Phil as he led them down the corridors he knew so well. Phil had a thought, then, that his thief was trailing after him to see if Phil would trust him as more than just a threatening presence, which he was not just then.

Glancing behind him at his thief's easy agreeance, Phil shared a small grin with him, but it quickly wilted in the face of his thief throwing Phil's words back at him once again.

"I'm certain the copy will be adequate enough for you," he agreed, turning forward solemnly again and coming to a slow stop. The fairy tales would be here somewhere.

Trailing his fingers over familiar scrolls, Phil ducked his head again.

"But considering I've said before I regretted my words, I hope to one day prove to you that they were not my true feelings on the matter. As such… I think I can agree to trust you... in certain situations, that is. I doubt you'll give up your life of crime?"

“As if I would give up my life of crime,” Dan snorted, “I’m the King, it’s my profession. I suppose I wouldn't be against you proving yourself to me, though." His gaze remained sharp. "But you've got a lot of work to do if you expect me to believe you consider us equals."

Phil let out an unsurprised, disappointed sigh as his thief confirmed Phil’s fears that he would never give up his life of crime, and tried to shove that reminder into his brain as yet another reason he couldn’t let his heart get involved in this situation. There was no use, when Phil put justice before all else, and he could never be with someone who didn’t value the same things as him.

The King of Thieves didn’t stop there, though, offering Phil what almost felt like an out. Phil already knew he had to prove himself to his thief, but to be told that his thief was open to that, potentially open to a change in their relationship, wheedled in alongside the block Phil had just tried to put on his heart, and filled him with hope. The very idea of something changing between them was sending a thrill through Phil, something he rarely felt except on the hunt for criminals, and it made a smile tug at the corners of his lips, even while his thief reiterated that he would not be giving up his thieving.

Phil shouldn't be okay with that, wasn't okay with that, and yet he didn't argue. Despite feeling like he could never, ever be friends with someone, let alone partners with someone, who didn’t hold true the same morals as him, Phil couldn’t help suddenly being filled with desire and excitement of knowing his thief, of gaining his trust, of proving himself to him. Suddenly, capturing the great King of Thieves was nothing more than a game, and Phil swallowed at the very realization of that to himself, of the very realization that in a single moment, everything had changed, and Phil had most definitely fallen.

"I thought so,” Phil answered lowly. “I will never stop chasing you, then, but as it is my family's fault you have turned to a life of crime, the least I can do is allow you my help, from time to time. I'll meet you at a place of your choosing anytime you send a raven. Weapons will not be drawn, and I'll do what I can, within reason, for you. Will that do?"

Phil knew his offer put him at risk, but he felt as though he had to give up more, if he wanted his thief to trust him. Meeting his thief at a place of his thief’s choosing should be sufficient enough.

"I’ll put myself at risk for you. It's the least I can do, after treating you the way I have. And if I die, then. That is nothing more than I deserve for failing you and my people.".

Dan leaned languidly against the shelves, trying not to shudder at the way the scrolls brushed against him. He was itching to read as much of this collection as he could, but not even the multitude of knowledge surrounding them could distract Dan’s eyes from his Prince just then. The Prince - Phil - stood tall among the shelves, almost as tall as Dan, and the way he studied the scrolls was with a familiarity that Dan envied. If he ever did meet the Prince again - and Dan was coming up with more and more ways to orchestrate their meeting in the future - he might well demand to spend some time uninterrupted here in this library, to discover new works without the stress of having to steal. Not that Dan would be giving up stealing; he lived for the thrill.

"If it's ravens you wish to use, then a raven I shall send." Dan lowered his lashes again, dropping his voice into a purr, and sidled up closer to his Prince. He wasn’t quite done yet, was itching with a strange curiosity to know more about this solemn Prince, to get behind the face he made in public. So Dan asked, "Perhaps you have another name I could call you by, though? I doubt you want a parchment from the King of Thieves addressed to Prince Philip to appear in the wrong hands." Dan allowed one hand to encircle his Prince's wrist, stopping him from getting the fairy tale out just yet. He wanted to spend as long here as he could.

"What can I call you, my Prince?"

Phil’s fingers trailed over a familiar marking on a familiar scroll, but just as he went to pull it out, his thief pressed his large hands over Phil’s once more, forcing him to stay in place instead. There was so much strength to him, so much power, that it sent a thrill through Phil.

Turning his head slowly, Phil caught his thief's gaze, face suddenly so close that Phil’s mouth went dry and his heart started pumping hard and fast in his chest. He'd never been quite this close to another human being before, never felt an energy so charged between him and another person, and he couldn't help loving the way it felt to have his thief's fingers move from Phil's hand to encircle his wrist, chaining them together, inseparable.

Yes. Phil was the King of Thieves’ Prince alright, and there was no turning back now.

"Phil," Phil whispered softly.

Dan stared down at him, suddenly much closer to his Prince’s - Phil’s face than he remembered being. Phil’s hand was on a particular parchment in the row of shelves, presumably the fairy tales, but Dan kept his fingers tight in place around Phil’s wrist, keeping him still. He wasn’t quite… ready, yet - not to be faced with the fairy tales again. He knew they’d bring back happy memories, but also… also, there was a lot of bad back there that Dan didn’t want to have to face again.

Phil, it seemed, picked up on some of the tension in Dan’s features, because before Dan knew what was happening Phil was asking, “These fairy tales - why do you want them? Forgive the question, but they are not the most expensive scroll in this library. I’m sure a thief like you could want more.”

The question had come kind of out of nowhere, and yet not at the same time. Phil truly had been curious as to why his thief wanted this particular scroll when there were so many more in this library he could sell for a much higher price, but more than that, he’d been intimidated by his thief’s face being so close to his own. The way the King of Thieves was holding onto him wasn’t helping either, tethering them together in a way that made the pull in Phil’s chest towards him that much stronger.

Dan drew in a breath, a little taken aback by the question. He hadn’t prepared an answer, hadn’t meant to get quite this deep into conversation with his Prince - Phil. He hadn’t even meant to ask for the fairy tales, not really, but now they were here, right within Dan’s reach, Dan didn’t think he was capable of walking away.

Especially with Phil’s eyes on him, glinting green-blue in the dim lighting, exactly the way the ring in Dan’s pocket did. Those eyes held no secrets, they were open and honest and fair. And dangerous. Dan was scared that, if he stared too long, he’d end up spilling all of his secrets to Phil.

“The fairy tales are not expensive, no,” Dan answered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But they hold - other value, for me. Memories. Of a happier time, perhaps.”

Phil felt frozen in place, trapped between this bookshelf of scrolls, and the body of who was meant to be his greatest enemy, but who was becoming more and more like -

Something he never could be.

Phil’s heartbeat was loud in his ears. He could hear his own blood rushing, and pumping. He could feel heat starting to radiate through him like he’d never felt before, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

Was this thief casting a spell over him? Did he have the ability to use magic on Phil?

But it didn’t feel like that - no, not at all. Phil had had a spell cast over him before, back when he was about twelve, by some smarmy student in one of their classes, and he knew the feeling of ice rushing up your spine. This didn’t feel like that at all; this was molten heat unlike anything Phil had ever felt before, and he swallowed thickly as he stared into the prettiest brown eyes that he had ever seen before.

Memories. Memories, Phil could understand. He held many objects dear purely for the sentimental value of them, and he could understand a man like his thief wanting to hold onto those things just as much if not more than Phil. Phil had his own suspicions about the man’s past, after all.

Phil was still looking at Dan. It was dangerous, that look. Phil managed something that Dan hadn’t seen in a long time - an expression of complete honesty, looking absolutely harmless and utterly charming, a safe place that Dan could sink into unless he tread very, very carefully.

The silence stretched on. Dan should look away. Dan should definitely look away, but… he also really didn’t want to. This Prince, this harmless Prince who was standing right in Dan’s clutches, having come when Dan called even when he knew what Dan was - this was a new figure in Dan’s life.

The air between them grew more tense at that, with Phil feeling trapped under his thief’s unwavering gaze. His thief was conflicted, he could see that much, fighting with himself, unsure if he should say more, perhaps unsure why he’d said anything at all. Phil wasn’t sure why he’d said anything at all either, knowing that he’d merely blurted out the question in self defense in the first place, having expected his thief to recoil from him in reaction to it and stop these strange feelings brewing inside of Phil from getting any worse.

That hadn’t worked. In fact, if anything, it had only made it worse, and now… now Phil’s eyes were flicking down to his thief’s mouth, a yearning growing in the pit of his stomach to just lean in and kiss him.

Perhaps Dan could bend just a little more.

“My father,” Dan explained, eyes lost in Phil’s, “He read these to me. A long time ago. Before he-- well. Before I was alone.”

Dan snapped his mouth shut, then, biting his tongue and trembling, just a bit. The memories were there, hiding in the back of his skull, threatening to bubble up to the surface if this honest Prince looked at him any longer. It was dangerous, too dangerous. Looking at Phil made Dan feel vulnerable, and as much as he knew he should walk away, Dan couldn’t move. Not with Phil leaning so close, and his hand still around Phil’s wrist, and the air between them feeling so charged suddenly.

Phil’s eyes flicked back up at the mention of his thief’s father, at the mention of his thief being alone, and something clicked home. Phil’s suspicions had been nothing short of right, and he ached with the pain that thrummed through him in reaction to it all.

He wanted nothing more than to take it all back, make it so his thief was no longer alone.

“You don’t have to be alone,” Phil whispered, and leaned in that tiny bit more, drawn in by intense brown eyes and a desire swirling around somewhere behind his belly button, even as he knew that this was wrong, that he shouldn’t be doing this, that they couldn’t. His thief thought nothing of him but as a plaything he could use. They couldn’t do this, they couldn’t -

Dan’s breath had been stolen away as soon as Phil’s words hit him. He didn’t have to be alone anymore. No, that wasn’t possible, even as Dan watched Phil leaning closer. Dan knew all too well that he was destined to a life lived alone, had been cursed with nothing but loss since he was young. There was no way this Prince could be offering something he shouldn’t be.

The hope of a life of companionship was something Dan had lost long ago.

Dan tried to be angry, tried to find the right emotions to fit how he should be feeling - he should be furious that this Prince even dared to guess at Dan’s past, that he had somehow made Dan reveal so much of himself - but Dan couldn’t. Instead, he was lost in the sudden flare of hope that rose within him. Hope that maybe, just maybe, Dan had given up too soon. That his Prince really could offer him companionship - that Dan didn’t have to do everything alone.

The thought crashed down around Dan’s ears, drenching him in sudden warmth. It was painful. He couldn’t. Dan knew he could never have this, And yet, Dan was captured by the look in Phil’s eyes, so open and trusting, sincere and honest, that it was the most intense look Dan had ever shared.

Dangerous. That look was dangerous. It made Dan want to cross boundaries he most definitely should not want to cross, especially not with a highborn Prince.

Dan's eyes fluttered closed, and he was leaning closer too, and then--

A strange voice broke the spell.

"Phil? Philip, where are you!?" a voice suddenly shouted, ringing through the library clear as a bell. The King of Thieves and Phil jumped apart, the scroll Phil had been holding jumping free from it's place in the stacks. Phil whirled then, his cloak swirling around him, and cursed.

Martyn. The guard must have sent Martyn after him.

"Brother, what are you thinking!? Tell me where you are! You can't just go after the King of Thieves on your own, you idiot!"

Whirling again, heart racing in fear, Phil ducked to grab the scroll, the fairy tales, and jammed them into his thief's hands.

"Go. Go!" he whisper-shouted, eyes wide with fear. "Get out of here, before he finds you. I'll stall him. Go!" Phil demanded, and then he was whirling about once more, and walking as fast as he could in the direction of his brother's voice, hoping and praying that his thief would get away.

Dan jumped back from the Prince - Phil - as if he'd been burned. Instantly, now the moment was over, he became aware of his brain screaming at him just how much of a bad idea his feelings were. Dan couldn't have feelings. He didn't let anyone close to him, hadn't since his brother had died. He was safer this way. It was the only way he knew.

Pretty Princes with sincere blue eyes could not break that. Dan wouldn't allow it.

Dan had to get out of here. With the fairytales clutched in his grip, Dan backed up, watching as Phil strode away from him and out into the main part of the library, presumably to stall his brother.

In other words, Crown Prince Martyn.

Dan's eyes glinted dangerously. Crown Prince Martyn was right there, right within Dan's reach. One of Dan's greatest enemies, one of the people he hated the most in the world was right there, and Dan was armed and had the element of surprise. He could dart around the shelves, murder the crown prince, and then be gone within seconds, disappearing into the passages. Nothing could stop him.

… Except… Phil.

Crown Prince Martyn was Phil's brother. His only sibling, if Dan's history books were correct. If Dan killed him, he'd be robbing Phil of a brother.

Dan remembered all too well what it felt like to lose a brother.

Frustrated beyond calculation, Dan tightened his grip on his dagger and released a quiet, feral snarl. He couldn't afford to get caught. If Crown Prince Martyn saw him, Dan would have no choice but to kill him, because Dan sure as hell was not spending any time in a dungeon.

But he couldn't do that to Phil.

Dan wanted to scream, only he was still in a library, and most definitely in hiding. Beyond angry, all Dan could do was turn and flee, tied down by a Prince he'd met all of three times.

But something about Phil was captivating, and Dan couldn't do anything to hurt him. Much as he wanted to.

Dan disappeared into the passageways with heavy anger sitting in his heart, but the scroll was in his cloak, and Dan couldn't wait to run his fingers over the familiar words again.

He'd make Phil pay for the feelings he gave Dan later. At least now he knew all he had to do was send a raven, and the Prince would be his again.

Dan had plans to take advantage of that fact, and this time, no brothers would be around to interrupt. Dan tried not to think about what might have happened had he and Phil not been interrupted right when they were.

Dangerous. Phil was dangerous.

But Dan couldn't stay away.

Phil strode out with resolute anger building in his stomach and chest, fingers clenched in hard fists at his sides.

How dare his brother come after him? Especially shouting as he was. What if Phil had been about to draw his dagger on his worst enemy of all time? What if he’d had the King of Thieves trapped right where he’d wanted him, and his idiot brother had come along and gotten Phil killed?

Tossing aside all thoughts reminding him just how close he'd gotten to doing the exact opposite and kissing his greatest enemy, Phil finally rounded a corner and found his brother stood there with sword drawn and ready to - what, save Phil, the literal Head of the Royal Guard?

"What the hell, Martyn," Phil hissed. "I nearly had him, and you come barging in here shouting and making a racket like my life wasn’t on the line!? What if you had gotten me killed!?" Phil demanded to know. "I had it under control. I know what I am doing, Martyn!"

Lowering his sword, Martyn turned an equally fierce glare onto Phil. "And how was I to know whether you were safe or not, brother? You didn’t tell anyone where you were going, and it took some smarmy guard to tell me what you were doing at all!” he shouted, fuming. His gaze cut at Phil, but Phil didn’t budge.

“I’m Captain of the Royal Guard, Martyn. When something comes up, I don’t stop to tell you about it,” he hissed, pressing in close and shoving his hands at his brother's chest. Martyn growled, and nearly struck out, but Phil was ready for him, and he seemed to think better of himself.

“Strong as you are, brother, you're ruled by your emotions, and you always have been. You can hardly blame me for my concern. No one knows what you're doing anymore, with silly little notions like changing the world," Martyn scoffed. "How was I to know you wouldn't get yourself killed, or whether you truly were trying to take down the King of Thieves at all!? Your obsession with him is unfounded. Give it up already, before you go getting yourself in over your head. That man knows more than you, Phil, and mark my words, he will take advantage of that soft heart of yours."

The words struck a nerve, causing Phil to pause, heart lodged uncomfortably in his throat. Was he allowing the King of Thieves to take advantage of him? Look what he'd already allowed the thief to make him do, look at what agreements they'd made, and how Phil had put himself on the line for him.

Phil should have known better than to trust a thief. He knew, he knew the flirting wasn't real, and yet, he’d fallen for it anyway. The thought of that hurt his heart, and with eyes flashing, Phil whirled away from his brother, standing with his back to him, unable to face him.

He didn’t want Martyn to be right, and even as Phil considered that he was being played, he couldn’t begin to feel even an ounce of betrayal at the hands of his thief.

No, his feelings were dangerous, that was true, but he felt just in his trust and desire to do something for the man whose life his family had failed to protect, even if he was putting himself at risk playing with his heart on the line the way he’d promised himself never to do again.

Scoffing, Phil tossed his head at Martyn, turning to glare at him over his shoulder. "You don't understand the people, brother. And you most definitely do not understand my fault with the King of Thieves. I am only trying to do right by our people. And next time, maybe you should trust me, or you might one day get me killed,” he threatened, voice venomous with concealed anger and hurt, even as he turned tail and fled deep back into the libraries he’d grown up in, wishing that his thief had stayed.

#iwritephanthings #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #snowbunnylester

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