The princess was coming, and the one thing that was going to ruin the whole event seemed to be a mere latch.

Most butlers and maids had to worry about cleaning, about making sure all the rooms were ready and windows washed. Simple things that they did every day, though on a (much) gaudier scale. But no. Dan was missing a latch for the prince's suit jacket, and that was it. This small, insignificant-seeming piece of silver was going to get him killed. He was sure of it.

As he was pacing (not a good idea when one should be searching for something, but seemingly the only thing he was physically able to do at the moment), Dan heard the door open behind him.

The prince walked in, wearing simple trousers and a red tunic with a hood that almost fully covered his eyes. He pushed it back, revealing a head of messy and sweaty black hair. He had been on a riding trip all day. Dan had hoped the group would take longer to come back, but obviously luck was not on his side.

This whole ordeal was ridiculous. If they had simply hired another butler in the two months Dan had been working for Phil, as expected and promised, this would never have happened.

"Is something wrong, Dan?" He asked, draping the cloak over a chair and running his fingers over the shelves as if looking for a book to read. Which, having known him for so long, Dan knew was not the case. Phil just liked the texture of the spines, and the thought that he could read one, and pick which one to read. It gave him a sense of control he liked after long days with his father. Days that usually entitled giving orders that weren't his and watching people die who were innocent, when he knew it was far from the right thing.

He was a slave to his father, and Dan was a slave to him.

Dan knew better than to lie to Phil. Not only because was he the prince, but they had built a sort of trust. Dan would tell him anything, whether sarcastic or just a problem, and Phil would make sure to give him updates of things going on around the palace and extra lineage. In exchange, Dan would act as a sort of friend towards the prince. He may not project the fact and even seemed to go out of his way to keep it secret, but Phil was lonely. He had something sadder about him than anything Dan could've imagined someone rich feeling.

"It's the latch," he admitted, hanging his head. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I'm afraid I lost one and now the maids cannot complete the suit."

"Are you telling me there are no other latches anywhere in the palace? None at all? How crucial exactly is this one, anyways?"

Dan blushed and admitted that everyone around the palace was too busy to ask, and the ones that weren't refused to talk to him. After the last butler had died, they all felt there to be a certain taboo tied to the position. "Besides," he added, "It's important that it would match the other latches on the suit jacket. So I need to get all new latches or one that matches, before the princess arrives tonight."

The prince shook his head, looking at Dan as though the answer were obvious. "So just go into town and get a few latches."

"It's not so simple, your highness."

"Well, why not?" Phil gave him a bored look, "I can give you a few coppers, if that is what you would require. The latch shop is just barely into town. Impossible to miss, really. You could even visit your family while you're there."

"That's very kind of you," Dan smiled at the thought of being able to see his brothers and sisters, a rare occasion when he returned at midnight and later. "But I'm afraid I'm not to leave the palace without a guard. It's a matter of...loyalty, I suppose. They don't want any of the staff to slouch from their jobs. And all the guards are in training, preparing for the ball tonight."

"I've never heard of that rule." Phil stretched his arms in front of him with a yawn. "Alright, I'll go with you." Dan started to protest but he waved him away, "No, I'd like to. You never stop talking about these siblings of yours and beside, I haven't been into town in so long. I really needn't be back before the ball, and that starts after dark. We could eat dinner in a tavern."

"You would do that, Your Highness?" Dan was genuinely surprised. After all, the royal family wasn't known for their interest in their subjects, especially not those who lived in the beggar's section of the village. The prince had seemed to listen when Dan told him of how Peter and Luke had gotten jobs, or how the twins, at eight, had started to read, but wanting to meet them all came to a whole other level of curiosity.

"Of course. I'm very partial towards you, Dan. I can see how happy your siblings make you, and how hard you work to keep them safe. I admire you for it and, if this isn't too forward of me, I consider you to be one of my closest friends."

"Your Highness-" Dan felt guilty of all the nights he had cursed the palace, cursed the people inside it, cursed the prince himself, even, for sticking him in this job. The pressures were too great, the work to risky. Only now did he realize that no one had bothered to find a replacement because the prince hadn't wanted one.

What an ungrateful brat he was.

"Phil. Please, how many times do I have to tell you, call me Phil." The corners of his mouth lifted, which seemed to be the only thing close to a smile Dan could ever pull from him. Phil grabbed his tunic from the back of the chair and pulled a cloak from the bureau, throwing it to Dan. "I've noticed," he said, as he pulled on his own garment, "that you do not have a cloak of your own. I, on the other hand, have many. You may keep the one I just gave you, no payment needed. With winter coming I wouldn't want you to get sick."

"Thank you, Phil." Dan pulled it on, trying not to gasp at how light the material felt against his skin. It was made of a cloth he couldn't identify, being that he himself didn't make the clothing. It wasn't the coarse wool he was used to, that was sure. It was smooth, but something that would obviously be very warm when needed. Loose and soft. The inside of the hood was lined with black fur.

Most nobility dressed for comfort, to show that they could. The peasants, such as Dan, would dress in tighter, more durable clothing, more likely brightly dyed to make up for the plainness. This cloak was an obvious mixture of both; strong, yet fashionable. Dyed a deep green like the ground underneath a tree, a color Dan wouldn't know so much as where to begin to look for.

This was a cloak of a prince, and he was only the pauper.

He latched the cloak (silver! Silver latches!) and looked over at Phil, who was waiting for him with an amused look on his face. Obviously, Dan hadn't done too well with hiding his surprise. However, the prince only gestured towards the door, and off they went.

👑🌙👑

A matching latch wasn't to be found, but Dan and Phil did find five new ones with crescent moons engraved in the front that were tarnished beautifully.

By the time they had bought what they needed it was noon. They stopped at the market and Phil picked up an apple to eat on the way to Dan's home. The latter declined any food, feeling to nervous to eat.

What would Phil think of his home? Heaven only knew it had been ages since Dan had forced the children to clean; hopefully Timothy had some control over the household. Agnes was constantly off at her suitor's home, so was often too busy to watch the younger ones. Dan had lost count of the number of times he had come home to find them still up, just then getting dinner started. In the middle of the night.

The long was long and silent. This didn't seem to bother the prince, who took in the low-roofed and dirty brown buildings with a look of pure awe. Dan struggled to see what he was so impressed by; the nicest thing about this part of the village were the flower beds in front of many of the houses, and even those were withered brown at this time of year.

Dan's home was set between a tavern and the church. To him, it had always looked as though someone had built those two and the house as an afterthought. The sides and top sunk in dangerously with wear, brown boards graying with age. There were only two windows, and the parchment used to cover them was barely hanging on. The garden was only a tangle of weeds and overgrowth; nothing but another part of the mess to make a scowl deepen.

Lowering his hood, Dan looked over at Phil. The prince didn't crinkle his nose at the ramshackle building; instead, he stepped onto the wobbly stones that made for a crude path and opened the door. Dan followed him closely.

Luke wasn't home, having left for his job at dawn, but Peter, a night worker, was stoking the fire. Timothy carried several pieces of wood in his arms, ready for his brother to grab, and next to him Phillip held an armful of sticks. His small chest was puffed out proudly.

The three older boys, Luke (eleven), Peter (twelve), and Timothy (fifteen) all looked like younger versions of Dan, who himself was eighteen. They all shared the same slightly curled oak-brown hair and muddy eyes, though their skin all went through varied shades of tan. Dan was the palest, as he worked indoors, but the younger two were olive skinned from hulling grains in the field. Timothy did odd jobs, so his coloring remained the natural tanned hue that their parents passed down. Like Phillip, they all had stick-like arms and legs from too little food but still towered over most others they met.

He introduced the three boys to Phil, who smiled at the little one especially. "Philip," he said, shaking his head. "What a wonderful name."

Dan chuckled nervously. "My parents were running out of things to call us by that one. There's also Agnes, who's probably at her suitor's house right now, and Alice. Er, where is Alice, exactly?"

"Right here!" A small voice squeaked. Dan turned just in time for his little sister to slam into him in a hug. "Why are you home so early? Who's that? Did you bring home any food? I'm starving."

She let go of him and went to join Philip by the fire. The two were twins, together since day one and virtually inseparable. They were the only two who never fought, a blessing as Dan had enough to deal with as it was, screaming kids being far, far off his list.

"My name is Phil," the prince said, another one of his small smiles forming on his lips. "Dan is one of my friends." Not I'm one of Dan's, Dan noted. He had never given Phil confirmation on that, which made him feel absolutely horrid. Phil continued, "We were going to head to the tavern for lunch, and I'd love it if you could all join us. My treat."

The others cheered, running into the rooms they shared to get clothes to change into. Dan gritted his teeth and turned to Phil. "You don't have to, really." He whispered, looking around for his change box. "I can pay. I can't owe you." He found it, sitting on the desk on the opposite wall, and started to reach for it.

Phil put a hand on his arm. Dan had never realized how intense his eyes were, like the green-blue water when it crashed against the ocean cliffs, until he was forced to meet them. "You won't have to owe me," he said in a measured voice. "I have the money and nothing to spend it on. I'm happy to pay, really."

Dan tried to look away, but the prince only lowered his head, as though in Dan's eyes were the secrets to everything and he refused to look away until he had learned them. "Really, Dan. I am."

Dan was never a pushover. He was naturally a stubborn person and very set in his ways. He would never lie, cheat, or scam. He would never break a law. He would raise his siblings best he could in honor of his parents. He would never owe anyone anything, because he of all people knew how easily that could be used against him.

And yet, he found himself agreeing.