For a few days, Dan is content with simply sleeping, reading the books Phil provided, and looking out the window. The view from his room is fantastic, the clear view of the mountains and the valleys around the castle giving him a small sense of peace that he feels is lacking in every other area of his life currently. He's actually kind of grateful to have some time to himself where he doesn't have to worry about advisors or peasants demanding answers that he doesn't always have.

However, he can only stay entertained by reading and sleeping for so long. Without anything to do or anyone to talk to, he feels himself getting more fidgety and his thoughts growing darker. He didn't think that anything could possibly be lonelier than his life back in Tenebris, but he's been proved wrong. He finds himself wishing that he had gone to the stables with Adrian or talked more with his parents. He wishes he had gone to Rose's shop and spent an entire afternoon talking with her and getting advice. He wishes he had spent more time with PJ as a friend instead of an advisor.

He never will. No matter what, he's going to get executed and he'll never see any of them ever again. He doesn't want to die without telling them goodbye, though, so he gets up from his spot at the window and moves to the desk. A small inkwell and some parchment perch on the glossy surface, and Dan gets right to work.

He spends the next few hours writing out personalized letters to every person he holds dear to his heart. Most of them are apologies, things he feels he must amend for before he dies. He's sorry to Adrian for not being a better brother. He's sorry to his parents for not being the king they needed him to be. He's sorry to PJ for not being the friend he could have been and Rose for not giving her the time she deserved. He writes apology after apology, so far gone into his own headspace that he doesn't even notice when the door opens.

"Your majesty, I have some lunch for you."

Dan's head snaps up and in an instant, he's standing. A servant girl, probably no more than seventeen or eighteen, stands at the door with a tray of food. Her eyes are wide, and Dan feels a stab of guilt when he realizes that getting up that fast probably startled her.

"Thank you," he says, relaxing only minutely. She may be young, but he's known girls her age who are far more dangerous than they look.

"You're welcome, sire," she replies, moving slowly towards the desk and setting it down on the wooden surface. Her eyes are glued to his hand, so much so that Dan has to look.

The entire side of his left hand is smudged with ink. He knew he was smudging his papers occasionally (he lost a few drafts thanks to it), but he didn't realize how bad it was. In a kingdom this superstitious, being left-handed and covered in black ink probably puts him on equal footing with the devil.

Dan can't really think of anything to say. He feels like he's already done enough to scare her, and he doesn't want to make it worse. So, he remains silent. The girl sets down his tray and frowns a bit, her gaze landing on the stack of letters.

"If you don't mind me asking, sire, what are you writing?"

Dan exhales, a little bit more of the uncomfortable tension that had been lingering melting away. "They're letters. It's a bit silly, actually, because I know that I will be unable to send them, but I still wanted to write them. Maybe after I die someone will find them and send them for me."

The girl bites her bottom lip. "I am sure that someone will send them for you."

"Before I die? Unlikely."

"I guess." The servant bows and backs towards the door, a strand of light brown hair falling from the bun at the back of her head. "Enjoy your meal, your majesty."

He watches her go, running over their entire conversation in his head. Who knows when he'll talk to someone next? He hopes it's soon. The door clicks shut and he settles at the desk once again, eating his food in silence.

~

"Mother, I have a problem."

Phil's mother's room is large and lavish, a very comfortable place for an elderly queen to sleep and lounge in. Phil knows that when he has a problem, he can always find her in this room, sitting in her chair by the fireplace, sipping a cup of tea. Sure enough, that's where she is right now. She smiles at him as he approaches, stress obvious on his face.

"What's the matter, dear?"

"Daniel. Daniel's the matter," Phil replies, plopping down in the seat across from her. He sighs heavily, settling his crown on his legs and running his fingers through his hair.

His mother chuckles. "Daniel?"

"King Daniel. Yes."

"Why is he a problem, Philip?"

Phil exhales heavily and resists the urge to sink down on the chair like a child. "Because I don't want to execute him. My advisors keep reminding me that I have to execute him and I don't want to."

"Oh dear, that is a problem, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Do you have any advice on what I should do?"

His mother sighs and glances down at the teacup in her lap for a moment before meeting her son's blue-eyed gaze. "At some point, every king must make difficult decisions. What will you do with him if you let him live? Keep him locked in his room for the rest of his days? He will not stand for that. As well, executions are something that every royal has to deal with at some point."

Phil shakes his head. "I have never dealt with an execution before and I never want to. What if I decide to outlaw executions altogether?"

His mother smiles faintly. "That would be a bold, brave move, Philip. Some of the members of your staff and kingdom will not be happy with that decision."

"I am aware."

"The best advice I can give you is to go with your heart. If your heart says that this dark king deserves to live, listen to it."

Phil nods and stands, pressing a kiss to his mother's cheek. "Thank you, mother."

"You are very welcome, dear," she replies. The king starts off towards the door, but before he can leave his mother's voice reaches him once again. "Oh, and Philip? Give the boy some fresh air every once in a while."

A faint smile tugs at Phil's lips. "Will do, mother."