A Royal Pain

EPILOGUE

Dear Dan,

I shudder to think of how many times you're going to read these words—whenever you're anxious or angry or sad. It makes me want to think very hard about every word I write, but then this letter would take a thousand years and we don't really have that kind of time. Instead I'll just write as I normally do, but if you're reading this right now, having just had a good cry or possibly thrown a torch at Charlotte's head, know that I love you and hope you find comfort reading this letter. The next time I see you I'm definitely going to scour your rooms to find all my letters and see how tarnished they are—evidence of how many times you've read them.

I hope you're not sulking around the castle currently, ignoring everyone and glaring daggers at anyone who happens to come across you. It wouldn't be so conducive to your professional image as a king, now would it? Of course, you've never been overly concerned with your image around the castle, so I can't necessarily say I'd be surprised.

I told my family about us! Everyone was completely supportive. Dad had about a thousand questions and Mum (very subtly) started asking about what you thought about having kids. Martyn apparently thought we'd been dating this entire time in secret anyway. I'm glad it all turned out so well, I'd barely even given myself a chance to think about what would happen if it didn't.

I don't really have much time to write—I'm unfortunately very busy—but I wanted to tell you as soon as possible. By the time you get this you can probably expect to have another letter in the next few days.

I love you,

Phil

—

Dan very carefully refolded the letter once he was done reading it, tucking it back into the envelope it'd been delivered in. Phil was wrong. Or he was about one thing, anyway. Phil would never know how often Dan was reading his letters when he took such careful care of them like this.

He was right about everything else.

Dan huffed in annoyance, shifting uncomfortably and trying to stretch out his legs in the small alcove he was stuffed in. It was a new hiding spot he'd found, one where he'd yet to be discovered. In the past month and a half he'd managed to accomplish several of his king's duties, including yelling at his advisors (Alfonzo and Bentley yelled back), rescheduling his meetings as often as he scheduled them (to avoid actually going to them), and several other menial tasks that weren't worth the effort to actually think about.

When he wasn't doing or avoiding doing the things he was supposed to be doing, he was hiding. He found places where he couldn't possibly be bothered and busied himself with writing letters to Phil or rereading Phil's old letters. Once through with that, he usually managed to struggle through a few chapters of a novel, barely able to concentrate on the actual characters and storyline. Even riding Alamo wasn't quite like it used to be. While it was true that riding him was as exciting and joyous as ever, he was unable to shake the unease and sadness that seemed to tug at him no matter where he went.

Holding in a sigh, Dan looked out the window, letting his eyes groom over the land he owned. It still didn't feel as if he was the king. He knew it to be true, and was aware of the fact that he'd been dealing out laws and punishments, arranging trials and satisfying citizens, but he still didn't feel like a king. He felt like a child in big-kid clothing, simply pretending to be something he wasn't—his pants dragging on the floor behind him and his sleeves falling miles past his hands.

He figured that, with time, being king would start to feel natural. That he'd stop thinking of himself as a prince and stop thinking that he wouldn't possibly be able to do something, that his father would never allow it. Then, of course, he'd remember that he could do whatever the hell he wanted, which for some reason always seemed to result in him eating far too much cake and becoming horribly ill, which only ended in him clinging uselessly to the toilet with Cecily rubbing circles on his back despite his demanding her to leave. Rather than that whole fiasco, Dan would very gladly settle for living happily with Phil. He didn't have to court women anymore, and he definitely didn't have to marry one, which meant... Well, it meant that one day, if Phil even wanted to, of course... that they could get married. And then they could rule over Hirona together, the king's duties shared between them. Their entire lives shared between them.