Long ago, in a faraway place, there lay a kingdom by the name of Zaron. The land was ruled by two kings and their child successor, whom they both loved dearly. As they trained him to grow up just as wise and skilled as they, a tragedy took hold of them. A powerful ancient artifact, the Stick of Truth, was stolen by the young child from under the kings' noses, dividing the land into three.

Ten years later, an unlikely relationship formed between the child's henchman and the king of a barbarian tribe. Together, they set off on a quest to find out the secrets of the Stick and reunite the kingdom once and for all. They gained and lost many friends along the way, but all was over when Douchebag, the one pulling the strings, was shot dead and the Stick returned to the rightful owners. The kings and their child were reunited, and all was said to be at peace.

The broken kingdom was finally able to heal…

The knife felt heavy in his hand as he hacked at the bark of an old tree. Little by little it wore away until a clear X could be seen in the pale wood. With a small grunt, he dropped the tool to the ground, backing away.

Step. Step. Step. Pause.

He stopped at a considerable distance, the little white marking in the tree still within his sight. Fingers grasped behind himself until they caught the wood of his bow, lifting it from his back, the other hand fumbling for the feathered end of an arrow.

He exhaled, positioning his weapon. It had felt like forever since he had attempted to shoot anything. His bow had been tucked away, sworn off, at least for a little while. It was only because he had been overusing it, he insisted to himself, but his shaking fingers reminded him otherwise as he pulled the drawstring back.

"It's just a little target, that's all, just a target…" he whispered to himself, steadying his aim. He could feel his fingers twitch as he relaxed, letting out another drawn out exhale.

Why was he so scared?

"Tweek."

He jumped, quickly turning around, bow still loaded and drawn back, ready to fire at whomever-

"Oh." He widened his eyes, quickly lowering the weapon. "C-Craig, I'm…"

The boy in front of him, Feldspar, looked alarmed, but softened his expression when he lowered his bow. "It's just me," he said quietly, trying not to startle him further. "What are…what are you doing out here?" A gloved hand ran through his thick, dark hair, attempting to appear casual.

"You should know, I bet you were watching me." Tweek cracked a smile, giving him a little nudge. "You're a shitty liar."

"Come on, I know that!" Feldspar laughed, nudging back. Despite his giggles, his face quickly dropped back into something that the barbarian couldn't quite read. "No, but really… what are you doing?"

Tweek looked down towards his bow, still gripped tightly in his left hand. The arrow had dropped into the dirt by his feet. "Practicing."

"Didn't look like practicing to me. You didn't shoot nothin'." Feldspar moved a bit closer, a hand moving to rest on Tweek's shoulder. "Hey," he whispered. "You don't get that scared look on your face when you're shooting, not ever."

He was finally able to understand as he looked at his face. He was worried.

"Pshhhh… It's nothing. Barbarians don't get scared, especially not the king." He let the bow drop to the ground, arms reaching out and wrapping around Feldspar's shoulders. His head rested against his chest, letting out another shaky breath, eyes closing.

The two stood in silence for a moment, nothing but the wind through the trees and the sounds of birds echoing through the woods.

"What…what happened to me? To us?" Tweek finally managed to say, opening his eyes and looking back at Feldspar.

The thief said nothing at first, hand cradling the other's chin and giving him a brief kiss. "We saved Zaron, didn't we?"

"We did." He let another long pause pass them by. "I mean… things feel different now."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Just…Different."

"Hmm."

Tweek slowly released his hold on Feldspar, taking a step backwards and picking up his bow. His fingers traced the deep carvings along the frame. "My mother taught me to shoot this bow. I killed the man who murdered her, I killed so many people, and I never thought twice. This is who I am; this is what barbarians do…" He trailed off, looking back up at the thief. "I don't know who or what I am anymore. I'm a hero because I killed someone, is that…is that right?"

Feldspar just nodded.

"I killed Douchebag."

He nodded again.

Tweek turned the other way, kicking at the dirt as he wandered back to his position in front of the tree. He pulled a new arrow from his quiver, setting himself up, letting out a deep breath. He stared down his homemade target. "Do you remember what he said? What he said to me?"

Feldspar was still in place, watching him from a slight distance in silence.

"He said…'You're no better than me'…. For killing him." Tweek furrowed his brow, letting the arrow fly. It struck hard into the center of his carving, deep into the wood. "The way… the way he looked at me when his hood fell… with all his faces…" He lowered the bow again, staring the mark, studying it.

"Do you regret it?"

Tweek's focus broke, eyes darting to meet his boyfriend's. "What?"

"Do you regret it?" Feldspar repeated, stepping closer.

He didn't know how to answer. Instead he slung his bow onto his back, pulled his arrow from the tree, walking back to Feldspar and collapsing against him.

"It's gonna take a long time to get over all this," Feldspar sighed, letting his arms wrap around Tweek and rest on his back. "The kingdom is struggling to heal…and so are we."

It had only been two weeks now since the event at the center of the divided kingdom. Feldspar and Tweek had decided to lay low for a while in the barbarian village while the kingdom continued to celebrate. They claimed it was because they didn't want to be overwhelmed with their new hero status, but in reality, they just wanted some time alone.

Without another word, the two of them took hands and began to make their way back to camp. It was only a short walk until they reached the gathering of carts and people.

"It feels empty here," Tweek whispered, looking around. Too many of his people had died when the Grand Wizard had raided the camp in search of the Stick.

Feldspar frowned, squeezing his hand tighter. He hated seeing his boyfriend so tense. Perhaps hanging around the camp right now was a bad idea. "Do you want to go somewhere else? I think we've been mourning here too long."

Tweek gave a half shrug, looking the other direction. Despite disliking his wording, he didn't object. "Like where?"

"We could go to the tavern and see Token. We haven't, not since…" He trailed off, trying to avoid directly mentioning it. "…so. How about it?"

Tweek smiled, nodding. "Yeah…it would be good to pay him a visit."

With a decision made, the two turned towards the west, again leaving the camp. It wasn't too far to the nearby village where their friend, the cleric, owned the local tavern. Almost a month earlier, Feldspar had saved his life and secured his friendship before they had taken off on their journey. Feldspar's eyes trailed up to the trees by habit, searching. Time with the elves had trained him to be on the lookout for an ambush, despite the kingdom's newfound peace. Things still didn't quite feel safe.

"What are you doing?"

"Hmm?" His gaze snapped back to the barbarian, looking startled.

"There's nothing up there, you know. Hasn't been for a while," Tweek told him. "Not since we won, right?" Feldspar felt his hand squeezed again as he let out a little sigh.

"Yeah." He let himself instead focus on the blond's face, studying the intricate war paint. "We're all good now. Douchebag is dead, the kings are united and happy, the kingdom is free… nothing to be afraid of. For either of us." With that, he kissed his cheek, and the two continued the long walk in silence.

Almost an hour later they arrived at the door to the tavern. Familiar memories flooded back to Tweek as he stared down the old building. A laugh escaped his lips as he remembered his drunken conversation with Feldspar that initiated their adventure in the first place.

"What's so funny, your highness?" Feldspar gave a little nudge as he pulled open the door, gesturing for Tweek to enter.

"You dork," he grumbled, trying to force a frown, but he couldn't help but smile. His hands found their way to his hair, adjusting his crown, before walking in.

"Tweek! Feldspar!" A familiar voice called from somewhere near the bar. The tavern was bustling with life tonight, and right in the middle of it all was their friend.

"Hey, Token!" Feldspar took the lead, walking over to the bar and sitting at the empty stool. Tweek quietly sat beside him, looking around wearily. Despite his hero status, the barbarians still didn't have a great reputation around the village.

"What are you two doing here?" Token asked, seeming surprised. "I thought you two were at the barbarian camp. Didn't expect to see you so soon." He offered then both mugs of some sort of alcohol, which Feldspar took graciously.

Tweek just snorted, giving the thief a little nudge, before taking his own. "Don't give Craig any more," he commented, taking a sip. "You know how he gets."

"Couldn't forget if I tried," Token laughed, going back to his work. "No, really though, what brings you out here?"

"We missed your face," Feldspar answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Nah, in all seriousness, we needed to get out." He dropped his voice to a loud whisper, not even trying to be quiet. "He was getting kinda antsy."

"Was not." Tweek scowled, setting his cup on the table and crossing his arms. "This was your suggestion."

Feldspar shrugged it off, finishing his mug with one long gulp before slamming it back on the table.

"Careful there, sweetie, don't drink that too fast, you won't have enough to last you the night." A cheery voice came from behind them, the owner swinging gracefully behind the bar beside Token. She kissed him briefly on the cheek before turning back to the two heroes, hands resting on her waist. "My goodness, it's you!"

Token let out a laugh, sliding closer to her. "Hey, boys, meet my wife, Nichole."

The woman, Nichole, held out a hand to each of them. "I'm so glad to finally meet you! You've done so much for our kingdom, I'm honored."

"Eh, Token deserves as much credit as we do," Feldspar laughed. "It's great to meet you too."

"I'm so glad the kings are united and happy again," she continued, grabbing the empty cup off the counter and wiping it on her apron, "we've never seen the tavern so busy! There's people from all over, traveling this way for that ceremony this week."

"Ceremony?" Tweek had been sitting silently for a while, but the word had caught his attention. He slowly lowered his cup, interest peaked. "What ceremony?"

"You haven't heard? News travels so quickly around the kingdom-"

"Well, when you're a barbarian…hah…" Tweek let out a nervous laugh.

Nichole let out a nervous cough. "Ah…anyway… The kings are intending to hold a big ceremony as they begin to tear down the walls that divide Zaron. With the Grand Wizard, the High Elf, and the Dark Lord- er… does he have a new name now?"

"I have no idea," Token said, shrugging.

"Well, the three of them are all united now, so there's no reason to have separate factions. The elves from the south-west, the beasts and child army from the south-east and the humans from the north can all go wherever they please for the first time in ten whole years."

"Won't you two be going?" Token asked curiously. "I mean…me and Jimmy will be there. We all should, we're kind of the reason why all this could happen."

"I don't think-" Tweek started, but Feldspar immediately interrupted.

"Well, yeah, of course!" He looked back towards the barbarian king, giving a huge smile. "Come on, Tweek, this could be really good for us."

"I don't want-"

"Tweek, come on. You can't hide in the barbarian village forever." Feldspar stared him down, grabbing for his hands. "What's the worst that could happen?"

He let out a sigh, eyes closing tightly. There really wasn't a rational reason for him to be so nervous about all of this. Maybe he was right, he just needed to stop mourning and take a step in the right direction.

"Okay, okay. We'll go."