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Dan would like one singular moment of fucking peace. Ever since he's been in Genovia it's been like this, followed and shadowed by some staff or security. And now it's this twat.
This twat, who Dan thought could be a friend when they first met: charming and kind, handsome—not that that mattered. They had first met at the ball after Dan's arrival to Genovia. He had met an astonishing amount of people that night, lords and ladies, foreign dignitaries, but Phil—the twat's name is Phil—had stood out, tall and blonde, his wide smile hid behind a hand when he laughed, his stumbling dancing on their first attempted waltz tripping over both of their feet at once.
That all would have been lovely, except for the fact that Dan learned later that night Phil was scheming to take the crown from him, and the only way for Dan to stop it was to find a spouse in the next thirty days. An insane situation, solved only by arranged marriage, there was no way a real romance could form in such short a time. Dan was living both the best and the worst of his fairytale life after discovering he was a prince.
It could be worse, his fiance, Sven—insane to be calling someone his fiance—was kind, handsome, respectful. A bit boring, and there was no spark, but through history he knew many loving partnerships had been grown with time nurtured, and for his country he was willing to make that investment, even if he knew it would come after the marriage.
All that does nothing to explain why Phil is following him now. They're at a damn garden party, there are plenty of people for him to entertain himself with, and yet he insists on following Dan around trying to bait him into an argument. Dan is stalking away now, through the garden, listening to that stupid Northern accent get closer and closer.
"Not very modern is it, you'd think an outsider like you would want something a bit more progressive for yourself." Phil's shoes were tapping against the cobblestones as he got closer, catching up to Dan next to the fountain. "And Sven doesn't seem your type anyway."
Dan whirls around at that, stopping Phil in his tracks with a hand to his shoulder . "And what the hell would you know about my type anyway?"
Phil's grinning like cat that caught the canary. "Mmm, well someone a little more fun I would think."
Dan scoffs, "Sven is plenty fun. We were playing croquet just yesterday."
"Yes, I'm sure that's exactly your type of fun. Standing around in the sun and politely chattering while people wack balls in slow motion."
Dan shoves him away. "You don't know me at all."
"I think we're a lot alike Daniel," Phil gives him a slow look up and down, "And I know that all this dress up and royal play-pretend isn't the real you. You deserve to be yourself."
Dan's heart is pounding and his face his hot, how dare this man. Barge into his life, tell him how to live, tell him he doesn't have the right to decide to prioritize his duty over himself.
Dan leans in close, he needs Phil to feel this. "I. Loathe. You."
The smirk is still on Phil's face, "I loathe you too."
The moment hangs, chatter of the distant party goers drifting through the hedge, sun bright against Phil's blue eyes, sculpted nose inches from his face. And then somehow they're kissing.
Dan's hands are tangled in the back of Phil's hair, holding him close. His stomach swoops and dives, it's hot and raw and messy and he wants. Phil's got his hands on his waist, pulled in tight. He wants those hands all over him, its feels so much more than when he kissed Sven—
Sven.
Dan shoves Phil away from him.
"What are you doing? You can go around kissing people like that, especially not engaged people!"
He tries to flee again but Phil still follows, "I don't think I was the only one at fault there, you were doing plenty yourself. Should we go again?"
Dan's walking the wrong way, he loops back around the fountain.
"I know exactly what you're doing. You're trying to make me like you so I won't marry Sven and you can have the throne."
Phil grabs his arm and turns him towards him. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I just like kissing you." He pulls him in close again, their bodies feel like magnets. Dan cannot, he cannot.
"You need to stay away from me." He pushes as Phil pulls, as ungraceful as their first dance, and suddenly they're both falling over sideways into the fountain.
Phil is cackling as Dan emerges from under the surface. His suit is absolutely fucked. Phil looks a mess too, skin glistening and blonde hair plastered to his forehead. Dan hates him.
Dan pulls himself out of the water, "This is your fault," finger jabbing. "I am absolutely done with you Phil Lester." He stomps, dripping wet, back to the castle with the sound of Phil's laughter behind him.