A/N: A new story based (very loosely) on The Iliad.

So excited about it =D

Enjoy!

I can feel the soft earth being trampled down step by step as we make our way across a large field of olives. Their scent fills the air in a thick blanket of delicious atmosphere. It's divine in its own right, and makes me just a bit jealous as I think of the lack of the fruit of the gods that we possess back home. I run my fingers gently through the mane of my grey-speckled mare as I see our destination approaching fast, a large palace of beautiful marble and stone. Statues of the gods watch us as we make our way out of the field and onto the dirt path leading up towards the large, wooden door of the gate. We step in front and nod respectfully to the guards on either side.

"And who may you be?"

"I'm Prince Kenneth of Troy," I proclaim. "I've come to speak with your king."

"Troy?" one of them repeats. "What brings you to Sparta? Is our king expecting you?"

"No," I shake my head. "I'm an old friend," I smile. They look at each other and shrug before each taking one of the large golden handles into their palms and prying the door open for me and my mare to make our way through. "Thank you," I nod softly before we cross completely into the front yard of the castle.

I pull back on my reins, "whoa, Philana," I urge softly. She slows to a halt and I dismount, smoothing out my tangerine-colored tunic and my brown satin sash. I lead Philana up towards the door of the front hall and am halted by a small servant with ebon hair.

"Let me put that horse away for you," he nods.

"Thank you..." I cock my head at him, feeling as though I recognize those dark chocolate eyes. "What is your name?" I ask, cupping his chin and forcing his direction up towards myself.

He looks up at me, fear tinting his gaze. "I am Ike," he swallows.

It takes a moment, but I feel the familiarity of the name and I smile. "Ike. My gods, how you've grown," I pull him into a tight embrace.

"E-excuse me, Sir...," he starts shakily. "But do I kn-know you?"

I pull back and smile at him. "How can you not recognize the old pervert, Kid?"

His eyes widen and he breaks into his own smile. "Kenny?"

"Heya," I wink. He tightly grasps me back and sways me back and forth a bit. "I knew you'd come back!" he rubs his face into my chiton.

"Heh, came for a visit," I smile down on him. "How've you been?"

He pulls back and looks up at me sadly. "I've been better, that's for sure...," he clears his throat and his smile returns, though notably much more forced. "Prince, huh?"

I nod. "Yep. Thomas and Gary made me and Stan their runner-ups."

He chuckles. "Sounds nice," he says dreamily. "I don't remember being a prince, but I'm sure it was wonderful. Much better than being a stablehand."

I smirk a bit, "It's a lot more work than I want, but it's something," I shrug. I look up towards the castle and back towards him with my gentlest of smiles. "Can you take care of Philana for me?" I ask, petting my mare's neck. "She's pretty worn out."

"I'll give her the best treatment I can," he nods, taking the rein from me and beginning to lead her off. "Nice seeing you again, Kenny!" he calls back at me.

"Same to you," I nod sharply before turning and making my way up towards the door. Another servant bows and opens it for me, thrusting me into a stage of nostalgia as I step through the archway. I look around, seeing the familiar bleached floors and the rich, velvety drapes that stretch towards the ceiling down and piling onto the floor below. Tall golden pillars stand strong, adorned with glorious depictions of the gods crafted into their strong surface. I take note of the changes, such as the abundance of golden figurines lining the walkway towards the king's main hall, and the golden silk that threads through banisters and doorways as though they were rivers.

"Prince Kenneth?" a voice calls. I turn from my admiring and see yet another servant standing by. "The king will see you," he smiles, gesturing for me to enter the hall.

"Thank you," I smile before passing him in through the giant archway, coming across a large golden throne with plush cranberry cushions. Atop it sat a man that I had not seen for so long.

"I wasn't aware that such poverty could be considered royalty," he smirked down on me.

I smirk right back. "As I was not aware that eaters of entire olive fields could be as well."

He steps lazily from his chair, his white and gold-spun tunic hanging loosely from his hips, swaying gently as he approaches me. He holds out his hand and I accept with a firm and quick handshake.

"It's been quite some time," he comments.

"Yeah," I nod. "What?...six years?"

"At least," he states. "Well, come along. We'll chat for a bit as they prepare the feast, hm?"

"How could I not expect food right away coming to your castle, Cartman?"

"Hey, that's Eric to you," he crosses his arms and raises his brow. "I demand some respect for my authoritah, thank you."

I roll my eyes. "Sorry, Eric."

"Yeah, you better be," he smirks, leading me along to a side room. We step into an area with a small round table surrounded by large plush chairs. He sits me down in one before claiming one opposite of me for himself. Two servants rush in with wine glasses and a large bottle, pouring generous amounts into our gauntlets.

"Thank you," I nod off my pourer. Cart-Eric...Gods, that's weird...waves his away briskly and the two of them scurry out of the room, posted outside the door to keep an eye on our cups.

He raises his and nods for me to do the same. "To Dionysus," he smiles. "And his gift of the drink of the gods."

"To Dionysus," I agree, clinking our glasses together and each taking a sip. I pull back and smack my lips. "This is delicious."

"Grapes grown right here in Sparta," he boasts. "Most fertile land in Greece."

"What of Athens?" I challenge.

"Most fertile," he repeats. I shake my head. Same old Cartman. "So," he starts. "What brings you from Troy? Not coming to steal our cattle, are you?"

"It'd be difficult," I smirk. "Only myself and my mare? I don't think that'd work so well."

"You took your mare overseas?" he raises his brow.

I nod. "Yes. I took her and the men necessary to row the boat. I'm merely here on friendly visitation, Cartman."

"Eric," he corrects.

I sigh. "Look, you're not gonna get me to call you that, so drop it."

He leans back and waves dismissively. "One day, you'll learn to call me by my proper title."

"What? Your royal fatass?"

"Watch yourself, Prince," he mocks. "I'm a king. I have authority that outranks your own."

"Only by three people," I roll my eyes. "You're still Cartman to me and you always will be."

"And you'll always be a poor sack of shit," he sighs. "So, only here for visitation, hm?"

"Well, that and just to see how much stuff around here you'd changed since...," I trail off awkwardly.

He just takes a gulp of his wine and licks his lips. "Much better looking than it was, isn't it? Much more decorated and fit for a king such as myself."

"Well, it's more...decorated for sure, I'll give it that," I shrug.

"Better," he repeats.

"I'd call it gaudy, myself."

"Well, you lived in dirt for most of your life. You don't understand the beauty of the vessels I've gained over these last few years."

"Cartman, you lived in the dirt with me," I roll my eyes.

"And now we're both royalty," he adds with a smirk. "Oh how the tables turn, hm?" I just nod quietly, looking at the translucent purple tint from inside my gauntlet and swishing it around softly. "So how go things in Troy?"

"Fairly well," I look back up at him. "We're running into some economy problems, but other than that, we're holding on."

"Mm," he nods, obviously bored. I have a feeling were it not for the hospitality that we're all supposed to offer, he would have shoved me out the door before I could step my second foot in.

"How about here?"

"Well," he replies. "You're actually here at a pretty good time. I have a group of diplomats here and we're working on some final pacts between our lands."

"Ah," I nod. "I personally hate dealing with diplomats, but that could just be me," I shrug.

"How come?"

"I'm in charge of foreign policy so I deal with them all the time," I sigh. "They really hit my nerves after hours of debate."

"True," he nods in agreement. "How are your affairs going then?"

"Well, we're not in any wars, so I guess pretty good," I smile sheepishly. "Stan's still training the military though."

He smirks. "Always knew that he'd end up at the front lines."

"Ares himself made him ready for war," I contribute with a grin. "Doesn't matter how peace-loving he is, he was built for it."

"I haven't seen him in years, but I remember him sword fighting in our free time," he nods. "We always said he could take the head off of a soldier before they could blink."

"He probably could if he wouldn't throw up afterwards," I snigger.

He snorts. "Still?"

"Ah, gods, yes," I laugh. "Still a weak stomach on him, but he makes it. He's building up more and more of a tolerance."

"Good mark of a military man is one who can handle the sight of blood," he snickers. "He'll grow used to it one day."

"Well, in a way I hope that's not true," I shrug. "War isn't our main objective ever. We just need to be prepared on the in-case kinda level."

"War's fun though," he raises a brow. "Winning and gaining the respect of people under your fist?"

"We do that with our words," I retort. "We can fight, but why spill the blood of your own people in order to gain so little at the expense of their lives? Property is not worth killing over."

"Power is."

I have to roll my eyes. Same damn Cartman.

"My king?" a servant steps into the room with his head bowed slightly.

"Yes?" he sighs irritably.

"Your feast is ready when you are. The diplomats just finished theirs."

"Ah, excellent," he smiles, getting to his feet with me following suit. "Come, Kenneh," he motions for me to follow. "I'll show you how royalty truly eats." I shake my head and follow his lead as we exit the room and journey down the hall. I can't help but lick my lips in anticipation. If this is fatass' castle, I'm sure that the food is everything I could hope for.

He leads me through a large archway into the dining hall with a lengthy oaken table stretching down the middle, surrounded by a few hefty men sitting in cushy crimson chairs, servants surrounding them and pouring wine as they talk and laugh amongst themselves. Cartman nods dutifully to each of them as do I as we reach the far side of the table and he seats himself at the head, gesturing for me to take the chair to his right. I do so, a servant pushing in the chair as I'm situated.

Cartman clears his throat loudly and I look down to see the diplomats staring back at him. He raises his cup of wine and we do so as well. "To peace between us all," he smiles.

"Here, here!" They nod sharply before we all take a large swig of our drink. I look down the table again, counting six other men besides myself and Cartman. I look across from me at an empty chair and just stare at it as a servant sets a plate of fruit and meat in front of me.

"He'll be along shortly," Cartman comments as he sees my gaze.

"Huh?" I snap back and stare up at him in confusion.

"I said the one who sits there will be around shortly," he restates.

"Oh," I nod slowly. I seriously need to stop spacing out like that. I did that once and accidently stared at a woman's chest and her husband tried to beat the shit out of me until Stan intervened. I softly shake my head and grab the leg of meat I was given and take a large bite.

"Good, huh?" he asks with a full mouth.

"Very," I reply in the same muffled fashion.

"We have some of the best mutton around," he swallows.

"I can see," I nod. I lick my lips and take another bite, watching as a cloaked figure enters the room.

"There he is," Cartman rolls his eyes. "Get over here, now!" he shouts. The figure's head is bowed and his footsteps quicken as he makes his way towards the seat to Cartman's left. "Sit," the glutton orders. He does so after a short, respectable bow, his head still staring at the table as servants hasten around him and prepare his food. I cock my head slightly at his hooded face. Why is he hiding?

"Is this him?" one of the men nods towards the cloaked boy.

"Yes." Cartman nods. He sets his food down and leans forward with clasped hands. "Make your highest bids now."

"Why? We can't even see him," another questions.

"Make your bids. Then you'll get to see him and if you wish to outbid the highest after seeing him, you may," he smiles. "Otherwise he automatically goes to the first highest. Leander?"

One of the men cocks his head towards the man and bites his lip. "100 drachmas."

"Proteus?"

"If he's as good as you say, I bid 200," an older man nods.

"Very good. Rasmus?"

"I won't exceed that until I see him."

"Very well. Will anyone else care to challenge that bid?" The other four men shook their heads. "Alright." He looks towards the boy. "Cloak off." he commands. I watch as pale and slender arms work their way out of the cloak and unclasp it at the neck. He slides it off his shoulders before pulling the hood back and handing the cloth off to a servant.

My eyes widen as I take in the view of crisp tangerine curls bursting into view, swaying softly as he shakes his head. "Look at them," Cartman tells him. He raises his head with his eyes still lowered at the table, revealing a pale and slim face. He turns his head and looks up at the men, and I watch his long eyelashes slowly flutter just slightly as his eyes adjust to the light of the candles surrounding us.

The men stare at him for a moment before Rasmus speaks again. "250."

"300," another one pipes up. I look between them all confusedly.

"310."

"370."

Cartman grins and leans back in his chair.

"500."

"There's another option as well," Cartman interrupts, tapping his finger on the table.

"What would that be?"

"For 200 a piece, you can all have him," his smirk grows.

"All of us?" one raises his brow.

"All yours for the night," he nods. The men all look at each other wondering before nodding and each tossing Cartman some coins. "Excellent," he praises, gathering the coins and putting them into a small coin purse under his sash. I watch the boy across from me, who's back to staring down at the table, his curls gleaming in the soft lighting. "Are you all finished with your meals, then?"

"Yes, it was excellent," one of them comments.

"You did always have a fine palate, Eusebio," he smiles back. "Please," he looks at them all. "One hour from now, you'll find him in the third room past the conference hall. As of now, go and drink in your rooms or go and wait wherever you may please aside from that room. You'll have him for the rest of the night as of then."

"Very good," Leander nods, standing first with the others following him. "Thank you, my king," he smiles.

"Not at all," he smiles. They all give their bows before moving away from the table, servants trailing behind them. "You may eat now," he looks at the boy.

"Thank you," he mutters softly, gently grasping a grape and delicately putting it into his mouth.

Cartman looks at me and smirks. "Do you know him?" he asks.

"I...I...," I shake my head slowly, still staring at the damnable curls.

Cartman takes his hand and cups the man's chin, lifting him slightly. "Look at him," he orders.

I watch as his eyes suddenly flicker up into mine and I swear to the gods, my heart stops.

Emeralds.

Those gorgeous, jade iris' of my dreams are staring back at me. I watch as his pupils shrink and his small jaw drops slightly as Cartman removes his hand. He looks between the two of us amusedly.

"I see you remember each other?"

There's no doubt in my mind now. I slowly get to my feet, still staring down at him. "Kyle?" I croak, hearing the shaking in my voice.

"Ken?" he shakes his head in disbelief.

That settles that.

He leaps to his feet and I run around Cartman's seat and clasp onto him tightly. "Holy fuck, Kyle!" I cry out, holding onto him tighter and nuzzling into his hair. He returns the embrace and buries his face into my tunic. "I thought you were dead!"

"I thought you were!" he replies, muffled by my clothing.

"Ahem," Cartman clears his throat loudly. Kyle pushes away from me abruptly, but stares back up into my face, a small smile breaking out in-between his faint freckles.

"You're really here," he croaks out. "You're alive...," I watch as a tear rolls down his cheek. I wipe it away and smile myself.

"You...Gods, you're alive....," I echo, still in disbelief.

"I think we've established that," Cartman interjects in boredom. I ignore him, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"You're okay?" I ask, brushing some stray hair out of his face.

"I'm fine," he assures me, his eyes flickering towards Cartman for a moment. "Are...are you?"

"Couldn't be better. Especially now," I half-laugh. "Gods, you're alive," I repeat, drawing him in and hugging him again. This time he doesn't return my embrace, but sighs happily and leans into me more. I pull back and we smile at each other, still both in somewhat of a shock.

"Why don't you sit?" Cartman suggests. I pull away from the kid and make my way back to my chair and we both sit back down, our grins still prominent.

"You're a prince now?" he asks softly, nodding towards the gold embroidery on my tunic.

My smile fades slightly and I nod. "Yes, of Troy."

"I always told you that you could be more than a servant," he grins wider, his teeth a brilliant white.

"Yeah, never believed you," I chuckle. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," he shrugs.

"I treat you like royalty and you're just okay?" Cartman raises his brow.

I swear I feel my eye twitch as I look at him. "I'm sorry," Kyle whispers. I shoot my eyes back at him and blink confusedly.

"You had better be," he warns. "And that little act of yours from earlier has cost you dinner, Kahl." he nods at a servant who removes his plate from under his nose. Kyle's shoulders sag slightly and I narrow my eyes at Cartman.

"What was that for? What act?!"

"He knows what act and that's all that matters," he replies, taking a drink of his wine. I look at Kyle once more, who's staring back at the table, looking...guilty for something.

"So...," he looks up at me slowly. "How's Troy?"

"It's alright," I reply softly. "How is it here?"

"P-perfect," he stammers. My blue eyes look swiftly towards Cartman, who's nose is practically hitting the food on his plate. I stare back up into Kyle's gaze, seeing the worry engraved into his features. I can't help but wonder just how long that expression has been there.

"Kyle...," I start slowly. "Where were you?"

He stares at me for a long while, and I see his adams apple bob slightly as he gulps. "I ran away."

"And smeared blood in your room?!" I ask.

"I needed to get away," he sighs. "Setting the scene was needed."

"Why?! Where the fuck did you go?! Why didn't you tell anyone anything?!" the questions I had asked myself for so long came tumbling out of my throat before I could stop them.

He blinks at me slowly. "I...I can't answer that, Ken."

"WHY NOT?!" I plead. "You...you run off and make us think you...that you were killed?! And you drove the whole kingdom into insanity trying to find the murderer....Kyle, why the fuck can't you explain that to me?!" I almost scream at him, blinking back six years worth of tears.

He stares. "Ken...," he shakes his head slowly. "I can't," he whispers. Cartman looks between the two of us and sighs impatiently.

"Kahhhhhl?," he drags out.

He darts his eyes towards the heavyweight. "Yes?"

"You need to go get ready," he waves him away. "Do so. You can talk tomorrow."

Kyle nods and slides to his feet. "I'll see you in the morning," he says to me softly.

I just blink at him. "You're leaving?!"

"I have to," he whispers. "I...," he sighs. "I'm sorry. I have to," he repeats more firmly. "We'll talk in the morning. Good night, Kenny," he nods to me.

"N-night..." I stare.

"Kahl?"

"Good night, Sir," he bows.

"Come here," he curls his finger. Kyle steps closer and the man grasps his chin roughly, pulling him in and connecting their lips. I swear, I can feel my last four days of food crawling it's way back up my throat. Kyle pulls away slowly and clears his throat.

"Thank you, Sir," he bows again. Cartman pats his head and waves him away. Kyle's eyes sweep over mine and I see the embarrassed blush creeping up his face and neck. "Good night," he repeats, turning on his heel and hurrying out of the room. I watch after him before slowly turning towards the man beside me.

"You...you two..."

"Kahl's mine," he smirks.

"How...how...you hated...," I shake my head in disbelief.

"He was lonely and I was here," he smirked. "Plus, who can deny one of the most powerful men in the world?"

My face drops a bit. "You weren't always, you fatass."

"Watch it, Kenneh," he warns. "Remember that I have the ability to sentence you to execution if you piss me off enough."

"You kill me, you unleash Troy and our allies," I scowl. "And we have a lot."

"As do I," he raises his brow.

"Just watch who you threaten," I state.

"And you watch who you cross," he retorts.

"Who the hell am I crossing?" I blink. "I'm just saying that you weren't always a king, Cartman! You were a servant with me!"

He rolls his eyes. "Well that's the past," he states. "Now we're both rolling in riches, so let's leave that ugly shit behind us, shall we?"

"If you two are...together," I grit my teeth slightly, "you should know what he was thinking when he ran off."

"That's our business, not yours."

"He was my best friend, Cartman! I thought someone fucking killed him! How is that not my business?!"

"It's just not," he sighs. He pops a grape into his mouth and looks at me tiredly. "Look, do you wanna go to your room?"

"Please. Just tell me where. I'll find it on my own."

He raises his eyes in thought. "Hm. Alright, you remember the old quarters?"

"Yeah..."

"Take the room three before that in that hallway," he states.

I raise my brow. "The library?"

"We got rid of that place," he smirks. "Turned it into a spare room. Take that."

"Fine," I stand from my chair and begin walking towards the doorway. "Leave me be," I tell a servant who tries to follow me. "Goodnight, Cartman," I call behind me.

"Night Po'boy," he nods me off, turning and talking to a servant about cleaning up the mess faster.

I make my way down the familiar halls when I look down another breaking off from my path and stop. I see the old conference room and my eyes narrow just slightly. I walk down its hall, passing it with soft-stepping feet. I count three doors down and slowly open it, peeking inside.

No one. Good.

I step in and close the door once again, finding myself in a large bedroom draped in red and golden sheets, soft candles lighting it aglow.

I look around confusedly before finding a large table with pillows and blankets stashed underneath. I step around and crawl underneath, concealing myself within the soft material. I drum my fingers on the hard floor and bite my lip.

Now to play the waiting game.