Chapter Text
A spare. That’s who Phil had been known as through his life in the royal family. The second son. Useless in many ways, but irreplaceable in others. Only a son can inherit the throne, as backwards as the system is. That grants him some worth.
Phil isn’t a normal prince. That much has been made clear to him since he could remember. He has been treated well enough in his family even though it became apparent early on that he wasn’t like his brother.
Normal.
A man that can be the head of the household, or in Phil’s specific case, the kingdom. By the time Phil realized that he felt no attraction toward women and told his mother as much, it wasn’t a huge shock to her.
As much as Phil’s royal parents wanted to love and accept him as he is, the realities of the royal family put restrictions on their acceptance.
Unconsciously, a system was developed. Phil was allowed to live his life as he pleased, as long as he was kept out of the public eye. Without much of an explanation, slowly the official narrative was molded so that the second son of the royal family became the daughter.
Phil was referred to as the princess of the kingdom. He didn’t make any official appearances that weren’t absolutely necessary. This system weeded out any marriage proposals from foreign countries. Phil’s royal parents could use the excuse of being over protective of their youngest daughter for not having her married off.
The truth is, of course, that Phil is still the spare. If anything bad were to happen to his older brother, he could still be installed in his place as the crown prince. At that point his preferences wouldn’t be of importance. The royal lineage is more important than anything.
Phil has learned to live within the limitations his situation has bestowed upon him. Inviting the occasional secret lovers that his parents pretended not to know about and taking part in official events, wearing a dress and a face cover were his normal in the castle.
The servants that are allowed to know the truth are few. He has been lonely since his childhood in the huge place. Talking with his parents about his woes feels awkward, they had already done more than most noble families did for their children that didn’t fulfill their expectations.
Every day that Phil isn’t forced to marry a woman is a win in his books.
If Phil is something, he’s resourceful. Instead of making friends in the castle he had made friends with all kinds of animals. His horse that he was afraid to ride, the ducks in the yard, the ants that entered his bedchambers. A few birds frequented his window in exchange for some bread he would give them.
His peaceful way of life is precious to him. Even though Phil doesn’t believe in the gods, he prays every day for his brother to stay safe so that he wouldn’t have to step up to the throne. Living like this, in the status quo is enough for him.
There is a knock on his door.
Phil turns to look at the door from his writing table. It is unusual for someone to summon him in the late afternoon since dinner is to be served soon.
“Yes, come in.”
The door opens with a creak. Phil furrows his brows: it’s his mother’s lady in waiting.
“Your Majesty, Her Royal Majesty has summoned you. I’ll have you get ready.”
Phil is puzzled. Somehow this feels too formal to be for afternoon tea. Usually Phil could wander around the castle without his disguise as a princess. But today for some reason his mother insists on him wearing it.
“I’ll get ready. Where does mother want to see me?”
“We have prepared tea in the rose garden.”
“Thank you.”
The lady in waiting, Mary, curtsies and signals for her attendants to help Phil get ready.
Phil sighs and stands up. He has already resigned to his fate.
At this point getting ready as a princess is a routine procedure. A dress is selected for the mood of the day, today it’s pink, his hair is brushed. Phil has let it grow long for his disguise to be more practical. When he dresses in his preferred clothing he usually gathers it into a bun with some pieces covering his forehead.
A servant brushes his bangs, trying to lay them in a way that frames his face perfectly. Phil can see the platinum blond strands, he should get it cut again soon.
“Here, please wear these shoes with the dress. The embroidery goes with the color, Your Majesty.”
Phil never complains about his clothing. He has no preference or a reason to be difficult. It is what it is.
“Thank you, Elaina.”
The shoes are flat. Phil is extremely tall, which makes his disguise as a princess that much harder. That’s why he always wears flat shoes with his dress.
Some rouge is applied on his cheeks and lips even though no one other than his mother is going to see his face.
To finish it off, Elaina places a headpiece with some sheer fabric flowing down on Phil’s head. The sheer fabric conceals his face from outsiders in every social event and even during lunch and dinner.
“Follow me, Your Majesty. Her Royal Majesty is waiting for you.”
Phil stands up and follows Mary obediently. He knows that rebelling against the attendants that are doing their job is not going to do any good. The only way for him to make his feelings heard is talking with his mother.
The journey from Phil’s remote bedchambers to the rose garden takes twenty minutes. It’s an exercise in and of itself.
Phil watches through the cloth how the different chambers and hallways pass by. No one pays attention to him. He is a ghost.
When he finally arrives in the rose garden, his mother is already there, waiting for him. She turns around and smiles gently.
“Phil. I’m glad to see you.”
It is odd how agreeable his mother is from the get go.
“Your Royal Majesty,” Phil curtsies out of habit.
“Come sit here. I have some things to discuss with you. Mary, please stand guard over there. It’s a personal conversation.”
Mary curtsies and steps to the entrance of the courtyard.
“What is it mother?” Phil is too intrigued for pleasantries.
“Sit down first.”
Phil sits down on the empty chair and pulls the fabric off his face. There is nothing to hide from his mother.
Her Majesty looks nervous. She pinches her dress between her fingers and bites her lower lip. The matter must be heavy.
“Phil, as you know, your brother has four children.”
“Yes, you are very pleased with him. Please don’t tell me you want me to produce children for your bloodline. I’ve told you —”
“No, it’s not that,” Her Majesty interrupts him. “You have been given many liberties for years. Your brother’s oldest child is ten years old and getting training for his royal duties. There are three younger ones too.”
Phil starts to realize what his mother means. “Oh, you mean to say that I have served my purpose as the spare and you don’t need me any longer?”
There’s a hint of pain flashing through Her Majesty's eyes before she hides it again.
“You can truly choose the most hurtful words when you want to punish me.”
Phil doesn’t respond. He feels like this isn’t the end of it.
“As your nephew is preparing for his future role and there’s no imminent threat to the throne, we have decided that you can finally get married.”
Phil’s heart sinks to his stomach. This is precisely the worst thing he could imagine happening.
“But mother, you promised me that I don’t have to get married. I promise to live quietly, like a mouse in my own wing, never to bother anyone.” He is getting desperate.
“I haven't finished yet.”
Phil closes his mouth and lowers his gaze. Whatever Her Majesty is about to say will change the trajectory of his life. That much Phil can deduct.
“After the last state banquet, where you were present, we got a letter of proposal for you.”
Phil looks at his mother with fear filling him to the brim. Is his life really over now? Is he really going to marry some woman he doesn’t have the capacity to love?
“The letter was from His Highness, the Emperor.”
There is a thick silence. Phil couldn’t understand what his mother’s words mean. The pity in Her Majesty’s face is revealing: it’s not good.
“Mother, what does that mean? The Emperor? I didn’t even meet His Highness.”
“You may not have met His Highness, but he saw you. He wasn’t interested in you, the youngest princess of this kingdom, but you, the youngest prince.”
Phil couldn’t believe his ears. He had been exposed.
“What? His Highness wants to marry off someone from his court to me, a prince that’s disguised as a princess? How does that make sense?”
Her Majesty draws in a breath and looks Phil dead in the eyes.
“No, child. His Highness wants to marry you himself.”
All the air thins out. Phil finds it hard to think. The Emperor wants to marry him? A man?
“Mother—”
“His Highness explained himself clearly in the letter. He wants to take you as his concubine. He knows about your true identity and wants to marry you, using your fabricated identity as a princess.”
“What? He wants to marry me because I am a man?”
Her Majesty smirks humorlessly. “Phil, did you think that you are the only man that yearns for other men? His Highness has an immeasurable amount of power and means to do whatever he desires.”
Phil is speechless. He has never considered such a scenario unfolding.
“Are you selling me to His Highness now? I said I don’t want to get married and that includes other men.”
Her Majesty looks mad now. She draws her lips into a thin line before she starts talking.
“Phil. You have been granted more freedom and resources than any other noble man could even dream of. I haven’t forced you to marry a woman or produce heirs. Now your hand in marriage has been asked for and the other party fits your preference. If you fancied women you would have been married a decade ago. I have been more lenient with you than any other mother in this kingdom.”
There is a twinge in Phil’s heart because he knows it’s true. In another family he would have been taken to an asylum for the crime of being himself.
“What did you sell me for?”
Her Majesty's face falters. She pretends to be tough and ruthless, but Phil knows her soft interior. Maybe he wanted to hurt her with this question, just to see her sad as well.
“The Emperor informed us that being the in-laws of the empire grants us significant tax reductions,” Her Majesty says without looking Phil in the eyes.
“I knew it. You sold me off for some tax benefits. That’s how it is to be born into a royal family, huh? I have been a chess piece since the day I was born, haven’t I?”
“Philip! You know I have done everything possible for you. A proposal from His Highness can’t be rejected. I am a mother, but I am also the queen. Your father and I are also responsible for the people. You know how dire the situation is with the crops that were lost. I wouldn’t consider sending you to get married if it wasn’t the absolute last resort.”
Phil hates that he sympathizes with his mother. The people of the kingdom have been suffering due to a disease that killed a big portion of the crops produced. Having the taxes lifted would be a huge help. Phil knows all of this. But the matter is about his own life.
“So you are sending me to the capital? As a bride?”
Her Royal Majesty swallows. She turns her head and looks at the rose garden.
“The convoy is coming in a week to escort you there. The wedding shall be held soon after you arrive in the capital.”
It is all too much for Phil to hear. He has been living in peace, invisible. Now his anxious fears are coming true: he is being used as a political pawn with no agency over his life.
“Mother, there's nothing I can do to change my fate, is there?”
Her Royal Majesty's face betrays the pain underneath. She reaches her hand over the table and looks Phil in the eyes, like a normal mother would.
“Forgive your mother. I have tried my best to protect you, I wish for you to know this.”
Tears sting Phil's eyes. Even though his world is falling apart, beneath it all he knows Her Royal Majesty is not lying.
“Mother.”
“I know, it's not fair. I have done everything to keep you from having to marry a woman. But in front of the Emperor even your father and I are powerless.”
A tear slides down Phil's cheek. He hurries to wipe it off.
“Please don't hold a grudge against us. The only reason why I have solace is that you get to marry a man. A powerful man. He is going to protect you better than I ever could.”
The unsaid, hopeless part of that statement remains silent. Phil may be sheltered but even he knows that being a concubine in the empire is dangerous in and of itself. Knowing too much, making enemies in the harem or losing the favor of the Emperor are all fatal mistakes.
Phil takes pity on his mother. Saying any of his thoughts aloud now would break her heart.
“Yes, mother,” Phil manages to say.
Her Royal Majesty's eyes fill with tears and she pulls Phil up with her and squeezes him into a tight hug.
The action goes against the etiquette but that's how their relationship has always been: cold and distant on the surface but warm and soft behind closed doors.
“Child, I’m so sorry I couldn't protect you better,” Her Majesty whispers. Her voice is breaking more with each word.
Phil's heart squeezes painfully in his chest. He wants to be angry at everyone but he knows that his mother has done everything she could for him.
“Mother, I understand,” Phil whispers back, embracing his mother.
The embrace lasts for minutes, or hours. Phil has no idea. The finality of the moment hits him: he has to move out of the castle next week to be claimed by an old man.
Her Royal Majesty pulls back and cups Phil's face between her hands.
“Child, you must write to me every week. I won't be able to live if something happens to you.”
Phil summons all the courage he has. Reassuring his mother is the last filial duty he can fulfill.
“Yes, mother. I will.”
Her Royal Majesty smiles and wipes the tears off Phil's cheeks.
“I wish things were different.”
“Me too, mother. You have given me more than I could ask for. I will fulfill my duty to keep you and the people safe.”
Her Royal Majesty closes her eyes and breathes in.
“My little flower, my most precious treasure. It pains me to send you off. You are so stubborn yet you have never disappointed me, ever. ”
Phil pulls his mother into an embrace and soothes his hands up and down her back.
“Thank you, mother. For raising me all these years, for accepting me and for protecting me. I will forever be in a debt of gratitude.”
Her Royal Majesty can't respond to his words. Instead, she weeps into Phil's shoulder, digging her nails into his shoulder blades. Maybe she could hang onto her youngest child if she could hold on tighter.
Mary steps into the rose garden. Phil can hear her timid steps.
“You Majesty, it's time to get ready for the evening meal.”
Her Majesty squeezes Phil one last time and pulls away. She looks at Phil with red-rimmed eyes.
“Get ready for the meal. We shall discuss the details of your marriage later.”
Phil nods and steps back. He curtsies his mother to show his respect in front of her lady-in-waiting. “Yes, mother.”
Without further pleasantries, Her Royal Majesty leaves the garden with Mary.
Phil stands still. He pulls the fabric from the headpiece back down to cover his face. Tears start streaming down his cheeks again. He feels frustrated and angry, not at anyone in particular, but at his fate that has been sealed with a royal edict.
The week leading up to Phil's departure feels like a haze. Formal meetings with seamstresses that design and sew a formal enough dress for his arrival to the capital, arrangements, meetings, polishing up his etiquette.
Phil would rather spend his time in the forest, talking with animals, finding shapes in the clouds and writing stories. But that part of his life is coming to an end.
Every day that passes is a reminder of his looming departure.
Phil can see it in the eyes of Her Royal Majesty and His Royal Majesty: the guilt. His brother tries to keep their relationship light and fun, like it used to be. But nothing is the same.
In the evening before the convoy from the empire is due to arrive, Phil's brother visits him in his bedchambers.
The atmosphere is artificially light. Phil can feel the tension below the surface. An uncomfortable feeling that neither of them wants to address.
That's how their relationship has been: Phil got to be the weird younger brother with less expectations placed on his shoulders while the crown prince had to balance the whole kingdom’s future on his.
“Brother. I know you don't want to bring it up. But I must.”
The crown prince’s face falls slightly. Maybe he expected this topic to come up.
“—Yes. you are leaving tomorrow.”
Phil nods. The sick feeling in his stomach hasn't left him in three days.
“I don't know when we'll see each other again.”
Suddenly, the crown prince's whole facade falls. He grabs Phil's shoulders and looks at him with glossy eyes.
“I’m so sorry Phil! I did everything I could to stop this marriage from happening. I am so useless in front of the Emperor! There was nothing I could do.”
Phil could feel tears stinging his eyes too. The crown prince is never this emotional with him, the sudden outburst makes his heart hurt.
“Brother, I am grateful that you tried. You are bound by your status too, I understand.”
“No! I am useless and weak! I couldn't even protect my little brother from that tyrant!”
A cold feeling washes over Phil. He has tried to avoid thinking about His Highness as much as possible. There are rumors about him, just as there are about his own royal family. Some of the things he has heard scare him.
“I tried to insist on sending one of our knights with you, but my request was declined. The Emperor is sending one of his own knights to escort you. He is claiming our knights aren't as competent, but I know he just wants to control you and the information about your journey!”
Phil feels even more sick to his stomach. It would be dishonest to say that he didn't consider paying off his escort and running away on the way to the capital. Apparently the Emperor is two steps ahead.
“Brother, you are the crown prince. You have a heavy responsibility as a father and as the future king. I can't live with myself if you endanger yourself because of me.”
The crown prince's face flashes with many emotions. He knows Phil is right, he must know. Sometimes his instinct to protect his younger brother overwrites his rational brain.
“You know that I have always loved you just the way you are, right?”
Phil feels warm. No matter what happens after tomorrow, he can have peace in the knowledge that he is loved.
“I know. I love you too, brother.”
The goodbye turns teary fast as the crown prince is secretly very sappy. Only the nuclear family knows this. To the people the crown prince is stoic and rational.
Phil looks at his brother, really looks at him one last time. If they could never meet again, God forbid, he wants to have a clear memory of him.
After the crown prince leaves Phil's bedchamber, reluctantly, Phil is left alone with his thoughts.
He opens the window. A surge of fresh air fills his lungs.
Is this what freedom feels like?
A frequent visitor, a raven, flies to the window sill. Phil takes out a dried loaf of bread and breaks a piece of it.
“Hi Steve. I missed you.”
The raven coos at him and eats the piece of bread Phil offered.
“This is the last time we’ll share bread in this room. Tomorrow I am going to be sold off to the capital.”
The bird tilts its head and makes a little sound. Phil is convinced that Steve could understand him. He scratches Steve’s neck carefully while the bird makes content sounds.
“Promise me that you will live a long and healthy life here. I won’t be able to look after you any longer,” Phil whispers. He could feel tears building up in his eyes, he hates goodbyes.
Steve is one of his best friends, as weird as some people may find it. Being different and a part of the royal family has its downsides, namely loneliness in Phil’s case.
That night Steve flies into Phil’s bedchamber and sleeps on his writing table, wrapped in a scarf. Maybe the bird understood what Phil said to it earlier, that would not be unexpected in Phil’s mind.
Phil doesn’t fall asleep that night. He stares at the ceiling and tries to calm his wildly galloping heart.
The thought of marrying the Emperor is terrifying and paralyzes his every sense. He does get to marry a man, but at what cost? Does it even matter if His Highness is violent or doesn’t care for him?
The first rays of the sun inform Phil of the dreaded day starting. He sees no point in laying in bed for any longer.
Phil breaks his fast with his family in the dining hall. Everyone is quiet. There’s nothing else to say. Her Royal Majesty glances at Phil a few times, but he doesn’t meet her eyes in fear of losing control. He can’t cry in front of the king.
“The convoy from the capital has arrived. Sir Daniel Howell is leading them. He is waiting for the king in the hall of peace."
The king looks at Phil, for the first time that morning.
“Thank you. I will be meeting him soon. Offer him tea and gifts from the castle.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The attendant bows and leaves the room quickly.
“Phil. You know your duty. Go back to your chambers to get ready. Your luggage is ready for your departure.” The king’s voice is stern and leaves no room for argument.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Phil stands up, curtsies and leaves the dining hall. He couldn’t look at his father’s indifferent face for much longer.
The fact that the king refused to look at him at all haunts him. Like a lifeless puppet, Phil lets the servants dress him. It’s another dress, of course, since meeting the convoy is to be a performance for the people. To show how the beloved princess of the Lester royal house will bring honor to the kingdom by winning over the Emperor with her beauty. Leaving her royal family for the capital is the ultimate badge of honor for a princess. That’s the script.
Phil is escorted to the hall of peace. It takes a long time to walk all the way over there. There’s a huge crowd of attendants, servants, and the king’s people surrounding him. Everything about today is a performance and no mistakes are allowed.
The king’s attendant stops the group behind the huge double doors. He hurries alone inside to announce the arrival of "the princess". Phil draws in a long breath. It’s his time to step on the stage.
“Her Royal Majesty, the youngest princess of the Lester family has arrived!”
Phil squeezes his fists into tight balls. He couldn’t afford to fall in front of the convoy from the capital, no matter how clumsy he is.
The double doors open dramatically and all the people around him scatter to let him shine in the middle of the doorway.
All the heads in the hall of peace turn around to look at him. Phil stares at the floor. He doesn’t want to be seen. If he turns into an ant right now, he would be happy.
After a moment he stepped into the hall of peace. The cloth in front of his face conceals the convoy from his line of sight. Phil can see his father’s cape on the floor and follows it to orient himself in the room.
He curtsies for his father and then for the other figure sitting at the table. He doesn’t look at the other man in fear of making a mistake.
“This is my daughter, Fiona. She is my youngest. I’m sorry for her silence, she has been mute since an incident in her childhood.
That is a lie, obviously. Such a story was crafted when Phil’s voice dropped and it was impossible to pretend that he is a princess instead of a prince.
“That’s okay. Your Majesty, it’s a great honor to meet you. I’m a knight appointed by His Imperial Highness, the Emperor to escort you to the capital. My name is Daniel Howell.
The voice of the knight is smooth, charming and youthful. Phil is flustered by it but manages to offer his hand.
Sir Howell takes it gently, so carefully that Phil can't help but steal a quick glance at his face.
Immediately Phil’s face heats up and his breath catches. The knight is absolutely gorgeous. He lifts Phil’s hand softly toward his lips, letting them briefly, feather-lightly touch his fingers.
As Sir Howell tilts his head to kiss Phil’s fingers, he can see the soft, brown curls decorating his head. There’s a slit on his left eyebrow where hair doesn’t grow, probably an injury from a sword fight.
When Sir Howell tilts his head back up and looks Phil straight into the eyes, his heart skips a beat. The eyes. Brown, warm, big eyes that tell him that this knight is trustworthy. Phil can’t know that, of course, but he is willing to bet anything on this fact.
And just like that, the moment is over.
Phil takes a step back and walks over to the chair that was prepared for him. He sits there like the doll he was made to be. Usually he would just look at the floor and imagine that he is somewhere else, probably in a field of flowers, counting how many varieties he can find. But now his cheeks are burning fiercely. He is thankful for the fabric that conceals most of his face. Phil can’t help but steal a glance at Sir Howell every few minutes.
It’s dangerous. He shouldn’t be having these feelings. He is a bride heading to the capital. The Emperor’s bride.
But why is his heart stubbornly beating faster when he looks at Sir Howell?