Dan spends the majority of his time on the way to Divum sleeping or sitting in silence. The carriage is small and unsteady, every little rock or bump on the road making him sway or bounce around. The stops they make for the night are always welcome, as they give him a chance to stand up, stretch his legs, and eat a good, warm meal. He doesn't see Phil very much, the king probably too busy or too tired to pay his prisoner much mind.

The carriage stops for the last time on its way to Divum and Dan gets to his feet, waiting for the two guards he's used to to take him to his tent. When two unfamiliar guards appear in front of the carriage and unlock it, he immediately tenses.

"Hello, your majesty," one says, a smile on his face. For a reason that Dan can't explain, that smile puts him on edge.

"We've figured you've had it pretty easy, so we're here to make sure you know what it really feels like to be a prisoner," the other states.

Dan's stance is defensive as he backs away from them, arms crossed over his chest. "Stay away from me."

"He doesn't sound very scary for someone who's supposed to be a king, and an evil king at that," one of the guards says, earning a laugh from the other. "Get him out of there."

One of the guards steps in and Dan recoils even more, black magic starting to swirl around his digits. One of the men flinches at the sight of his power, but the other seems unfazed. Dan attempts to shove him back, but his magic bounces back the moment it gets too close to the carriage walls. The guards laugh and one of them lunges forward, punching him in the gut and dragging him out of the carriage by his hood. Winded, Dan collapses to the ground, which is covered in a thin layer of snow thanks to the recent snowfall.

Immediately, instinct kicks in. He rolls over, barely avoiding the boot of one of the men, and gets to his feet, black magic swirling even faster around his hands. He shoves forward with his hand as one of the men runs up to him, and a strand of magic flies forward and sends his assailant flying back. The other guard grits his teeth and pulls out his sword, dodging one of Dan's attacks and swinging at him. The king brings up a shield and the blade skids off of it, missing Dan by inches. While the royal is preoccupied with keeping himself alive, the other guard stumbles to his feet and sneaks around Dan, landing a kick to the small of his back the moment the king lets his shield down again.  Normally, he would probably have a better time defending himself, but after hours of exhausting, disorienting carriage rides, he physically can't fight to his full potential. 

Dan stumbles forward and the guard with the sword kicks him in the gut. Dan gasps and barely regains his breath before another flurry of fists and boots comes down on him, and he has to hold back the cry that wants so desperately to rip itself from his throat. The guards, seemingly unafraid of his magic now that they have Dan trapped, laugh and jeer as they push him around and beat down on him.

"Kneel, 'your majesty'," one mocks, forcing him to his knees the moment he tries to stand up. "Kneel to our king and we'll spare you."

Dan grits his teeth, weak, painful strands of magic swirling around his forearms and hands. Blood trickles from the corner of his lip, a bruise starting to form on his jaw. "I will kneel to no one."

"Aww, he thinks he still has a choice. Jeez, we thought you were powerful, with your black magic and your witchcraft, but it turns out that you have no power at all," the other guard jeers, burying his boot in his gut and sending him sprawling into the snow again.

The guards laugh, and as one of them raises his foot to kick again he freezes. They look in the same direction and then to each other, their posture straightening and their hands folding behind their backs. Dan doesn't glance over, his gaze trained on the ground ahead of him. He lets his magic absorb back into his body, doing his best to hide his trembling.

"Get out of here, both of you. You shall NOT interfere with my prisoner. If I see either of you around here again, the cells in Divum will be your new homes," an authoritative voice commands. The two guards nod rapidly and scamper off like dogs with their tails between their legs.

Dan picks himself up slowly, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. Phil steps into his line of sight and takes his chin between his fingers, tilting his head so the king of Tenebris looks at him. Dan aches and badly wants to cry, but doesn't. He maintains his composure even as Phil's gaze fills with concern and his thumb wipes away a trace of blood on his lips. He tilts his head to the side and frowns a bit at the bruise on Dan's jaw.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he says, the authoritative tone completely gone from his voice. "Come along."

Dan doesn't move, meeting Phil's eyes with an intensity that makes most people shrink away. The king of Divum, however, does not hesitate to meet his gaze and hold it.

"I can clean myself up," Dan insists, his tone cold.

Phil's lips twitch up into the slightest of smirks. "Can you now?"

Dan summons his magic and immediately grits his teeth, the black strands reflecting his pain back onto him. He pulls them back into himself and crosses his arms over his chest, a frown pulling at his lips. "I can clean myself up without magic."

Phil chuckles and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Come with me."

Once again, Dan resists. "You're going to scar me if you heal me with your magic. I don't want scars from this."

"None of your wounds are bad enough to warrant a scar. I promise, I will not mark you in any way."

Dan wants to keep arguing, but he can't find it in himself to do so. He's tired, he's sore, and he wants to go home so badly he could cry. Phil places a hand on his back and leads him to his tent, walking beside him in order to block him from view.

"Sit there," Phil orders when they reach his tent. He gestures to a small chair in the corner and Dan moves towards it, observing Phil's tent as he goes. It's not too different from his own, which surprises him. There's a cot, a small rug, a chair, and a few other basic necessities, but not much else. He honestly expected something a bit more... extravagant.

He settles in the chair and watches Phil grab a small bowl filled with water and a cloth before moving towards him. It's the first time he's seen or talked to him since the first night of his capture, and the many questions that have been swirling around in his head can't be held back anymore.

"Why did you capture me in the first place?" Dan demands, making Phil stop in his tracks. "Why did you target my kingdom instead of all the other kingdoms around you?"

Phil exhales heavily and sets the bowl and cloth down beside him. "I have my reasons. I tried to negotiate alternatives, but none of them would work."

"That does not answer my question at all."

"I know."

Dan grits his teeth, hands balling into fists. "Can you stop being mysterious for two seconds? Give me one reason as to why you targeted me and I will stop asking."

Phil dips the cloth into the water and lets it soak for a moment before ringing it out. He sighs a bit and meets Dan's gaze, blue eyes intense. "The colour of your magic."

The king of Tenebris frowns a bit and summons his magic. However, the moment it swirls around his hand, it reflects his pain back onto him and he bites back a cry. He pulls it back into himself and looks to Phil again, whose eyes are locked onto his hand.

"What about the colour?" Dan asks, his voice strained.

"It's black. Many people in my kingdom believe that that colour is evil."

"You targeted me out of superstition?!"

Phil pauses and sighs heavily though his nose. "That was only part of it."

Dan stares at him incredulously for a moment before looking away, his jaw clenched. Phil squeezes a bit of excess water from the cloth and reaches over, turning Dan's chin so the king is looking at him. He wipes the blood from his lip before applying a little bit of magic, which makes Dan's magic pulse and jump the moment it touches him. Despite wanting to avoid his gaze, the king of Tenebris finds himself watching Phil's every movement. His eyes are the most fascinating thing to Dan. Nobody in Tenebris has eyes that light and blue, and he hates that he's enthralled by it.

"Why are you helping me? I am your prisoner. You could have easily left me to clean myself up," Dan asks, breaking the silence that had become more and more prolonged.

"You are a royal, not a dog. Just because you are my prisoner does not mean you should be treated poorly." Phil meets his gaze for a moment before pressing a hand to Dan's stomach. "This will hurt a bit."

Phil's magic lights up his stomach and immediately, searing pain passes through every forming bruise and ache in Dan's body. He grits his teeth and tries not to scream, fingers tightening around the armrests of the chair he sits in. It's over a few moments after it started, but it still leaves Dan sweating, shaking, and on the verge of tears.

"I am sorry about that, Daniel. I was just healing any internal and external bruising," Phil says.

"Th-thank you," Dan stammers in response, clutching his stomach.

"You're welcome. Don't worry, the pain will subside soon. You should feel completely normal by the time you go to bed."

The king of Tenebris gets to his feet slowly, making his way to the door of the tent. Before he leaves, however, he turns to face Phil. "Have you made a decision about me yet?"

A small smile tugs at Phil's lips. "No, I have not."

Dan nods once and turns, exiting the king of Divum's tent.