So apparently, it was either, "Hold on to the stick for ninety percent of your day," or "Risk leaving a fiery crater in the place of the entire fucking castle."

At least, that's how Kyle summarized it later after listening to Bebe's explanation for his little display, who then in a haughty tone, made it known she thought the description was an exaggeration.

Stan disagreed.

Still, as disjointed as this all felt, Stan was now mostly calmed down. Though his thought process still felt similar to South Park's snow during July, he could see where Kyle was coming from better with his reasoning earlier. Yes, weird shit did happen to them - often - but since his friend's "Dimensional Travel Theory" proved true, then this day probably... at least cracked the top fifty.

That still didn't exactly take away the uneasiness Stan had admitted having to Kyle earlier. While they had both been involuntarily sent to an alternate dimension before, at least back then Stan knew why he'd wound up somewhere close in comparison to Hell. This? As far as he could tell, whatever the hell this was, didn't have an explanation. Even Bebe, the apparent "expert" on their current location, didn't have an explanation outside of - "You two are fucking dumbasses who are always doing annoying shit together that fucks you over like this" (he may have paraphrased her words) and something to do with Cartman, though there was no proof for the latter (didn't mean Stan doubted that bastard's capabilities).

So Stan felt like he'd been pretty justified in passing out almost as soon as his eyes landed on that very real kingdom and waterfall. It'd all just been a little too much for him to handle after he'd so peacefully gone to his own bed at home and waking up to Elf Twink Kyle, then finish it off by having his sensitive eight-year-old stomach come back from the dead.

And he didn't even want to think about that fucking scar right now.

Besides, he hadn't even gotten to the worst part of it all.

Though terrifying, now that Kyle seemed mostly recovered, Stan couldn't help but think just how... ok wait, there was a good descriptive word for this - something that would make his English teacher proud, uh... tuh-tuh... tumultuous...? Yeah, that word worked. Stan thought the events leading up to everything felt super tumultuous.

Once Bebe again denied their honest claims about where they came from, Stan started to feel - in the best description -uncomfortable; like an irritating match had been lit inside him, with the smoke rising to his chest. At first, Stan thought it was just his stress, after all, it was still plenty tolerable, and Kyle beginning to spontaneously glow like a Christmas light seemed more worrisome.

Then that whole mess of "Kyle Wriggling on the Floor in Agony" happened, and his tolerance was consumed by a fucking wildfire. In a blink, Stan thought his heart was about to fucking burst from sheer panic, only for it all to hit him like a truck one second, then fade almost to obscurity in the next. Still there, but as some kind of ghost or wisp. But he couldn't focus on that since - duh, Kyle. Stan had almost keeled over himself, but no one else noticed because of the obvious suffering Jew splattered on the floor.

Was it too soon in saying that had been one of the scariest moments in Stan's life? He didn't want to be overdramatic or anything, but he was pretty sure the sight of your best friend suddenly dropping to the ground like someone had shot them through their head would garner a similar feeling even out of the most emotionally constipated person.

So after many apologies from Bebe, and a mostly calm-downed Kyle, the trio decided it would be best to sit down (Kyle refused Stan's offer in helping him walk) and officially talk through the mess they were in. Again. Except this time, no bullshit question game. Just straight answers.

It had been a huge fucking disaster.

Ok, to be fair, maybe not all of it.

Good news first, Bebe seemed to mostly accept that Stan and Kyle - were in fact not her Stan and Kyle. It only took the two going into the specifics about their lives back at home (nothing very personal), until she had to beg them to stop.

Bad news, this definitely didn't give the young blond any more comfort, and seemed to only succeed in somehow upsetting her even more than before at the thought of this being something… a simple mind spell couldn't fix? That's what Stan assumed from the way she talked. It also didn't help that as soon as their interdimensional travel conflict was settled, the only words that came out of Kyle's mouth were questions with few pauses in between them.

"What the fuck just happened?"

"Why do I need this stick?"

"Am I going to die if I don't have it on me all the time?"

"Why did that happen just now and not while we were arguing earlier?"

"Why didn't you tell me about this before I flipped my shit?"

Stan could admit he felt just as eager to know, but it was clear how much each question got under Bebe's skin. To her credit, she did do her best to answer them in a calm(ish) manner, but still had to take multiple breaks and walk out of the room in order to gather herself.

But in the end, Bebe succeeded in explaining the gist of Kyle's predicament.

And well…

According to Stan's best summary, turns out this "Elf Kyle" was born like - really strong, but not strong in a quote-in-quote, "normal" way, even for the Drow Elf Royal Family, who were always born stronger than "the average elf."

Now, King Kyle - ever since he was little, had a difficult time controlling his magic. Magical outbursts could be random (usually resulting in something cracking, exploding, growing out of control, or catching on fire), but most of the time occurred when the elf king exhibited strong emotions, specifically - anger.

And the staff? Well, the gem mounted at the top apparently had the unique ability to absorb Kyle's - and only Kyle's - pent-up magic, which was what Bebe meant by - "He's spent most of his life cooped up here." Thanks to "The Queen," Elf Kyle had that fucking gem with him nearly 24/7 for all of his life; first as a necklace. It was only when Kyle was crowned king, where he was able to roam outside the castle boundaries on his own terms, and also have the gem converted to a staff, in the hopes that it could act as a symbol of him not needing to rely on an object as much.

This is when the redhead decided to break free from his sudden silence and interrupt.

"Hold up."

"What is it?"

"I'm king." A statement.

"Yeah?"

"My mom... is the queen... right?"

Bebe froze. Stan knew instantly what was coming, and judging by the dread on Kyle's face, he probably did too.

Then -

"Was the queen."

Kyle didn't make a face. Nor did he move a muscle. Not a single twitch to show how he felt.

The bluish mist began to leak from his skin.

Before Bebe or Stan could say or do anything, the window fucking exploded.

It thankfully only burst outside in a small, perhaps even lackluster burst (if Stan's experience with explosions said anything), glass blessedly not advancing far beyond the balcony, and hopefully wouldn't slice open any unsuspecting citizens. However, with that said, the sound alone still caused him to leap back and cover his head in preparation for the broken shards that never came.

Whether or not Kyle was too enwrapped in his own head to notice what just happened, Stan didn't know, since his face continued to remain blank. Then, and still without a reaction, Kyle stood up. "I gotta go think this through."

Despite her eyes blinking incredulously, probably still in shock as well, Bebe shot up. "Where are you going?"

Kyle didn't stop walking, nor did he answer, mist continuing to trail off his body. Perhaps taking whatever powers he had built up inside out on that window helped, since the redhead didn't seem like he was in danger of collapsing this time.

The initial shock of seeing glass shoot out dying down, and upon his friend walking off without him, Stan did his best to regain his senses. He felt his legs scrambling to stand up as they made their way to the Jew who was now nearly out the door. Bebe did the same.

"Wait, Kyle -"

Unfortunately for all three of them, the door opened. Kyle froze a mere three feet away, as well as the other two delinquents.

A figure then stepped inside. A woman - one who had gold leaves interlaced into dark brown hair, weaved carefully together into a long, single braid like exquisitely crafted bread in a French bakery. Red painted lips rested above her small chin. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, and oddly familiar, though Stan couldn't place her face in a specific setting. As she stepped fully inside, her outfit came into view, revealing finely shaped baby blue robes with loose sleeves and a hem risen just above her feet.

She's an elf, Stan then realized as his eyes landed on the long, sleek ears poking out from the side of her head.

There was a pensive pause as the elf lady stared at everything one-by-one with a blank expression, as if trying to figure out the context of the situation.

It was Bebe who broke the silence.

"High Healer Fran," she addressed respectfully, standing straighter while putting a fist over her heart, in what Stan could only assume was some kind of salute. She followed the stance up by nudging Stan with her foot.

He immediately got the message, and hurriedly copied Bebe's pose in what must've looked like a half-hazard attempt, but if the woman noticed, she didn't say.

The elf lady - Fran - while had confusion clearly etched over her features, nevertheless, lowered herself into a dutiful bow. "High Warrior Stevens, Ranger Marshwalker, his Majesty." Stan felt a weird tingle shoot up his spine at the title. Fran brought herself back up, looking the silent elf (god it felt weird to call Kyle that) up and down with analytical eyes. "I decided to have an assistant take care of the class so I could check on my king." She tilted her head curiously, gaze still focused on Kyle. "You seem better than expected. I admit I didn't think you would be in here rather than your own room, but I couldn't help but overhear what sounded like an intense situation."

Kyle remained silent. From shock, fear, confusion - maybe a combination of all - Stan couldn't tell, since Kyle seemed to be in no rush to turn around.

Lucky for him, Kyle didn't need to say anything, since Fran's eyes landed on the shattered window standing proudly behind them.

Her gaze fell back onto the culprit, face softening.

"I thought you'd gotten better at this," she admitted in a soft yet pointed tone.

"High Healer," Bebe spoke up defensively, stepping forward. "If I may -"

"I will speak for myself, High Warrior."

Bebe froze, eyes widening in shock. Stan bet his face looked similar. Kyle hadn't even bothered to turn around, but he clearly didn't need to. Though the redhead hadn't used many words, his voice came across as eerily even for someone who just barely shattered a window with their mind alone (Though if memory served correctly, maybe it was because this wasn't the first time something like this happened? Still, he didn't think of his best friend as one to simply brush off his feelings). This somehow alarmed Stan more than any of his screaming fits, as well as make him sort of annoyed at everything, for whatever reason.

Bebe's mouth opened, seeming ready to argue, but probably seeing her position, quickly snapped it shut. She then took a step back, putting her hands behind her back, placing her feet together with an evenly held head, staring forward. A waiting stance. Stan quickly copied it before she could kick him again.

"Of course," the blond settled with cooly.

Satisfied, Kyle put his attention back on Fran, who was eyeing him curiously. "I apologize, High Healer. Sensitive matters were brought up this morning which caused an irrational reaction on my part. " Stan could see Kyle was already holding himself a little higher, much more confidently, as his voice oozed with a noble authority, almost sounding as if he'd done this his whole life. That light haze no longer emitted off him either.

It threw Stan for a loop. Kyle naturally soaked himself into the "high and mighty" leader position, but geez, he'd just been pretty damn hoarse not long ago, hotly demanding answers to their predicament. Now suddenly all of this was a piece of cake? What the fuck Kyle?

Unaware of Stan's concerns, he continued. "Nevertheless, I understand I acted childishly this morning in not attending or sending a note of reason for my absence."

Fran must've respected Kyle's privacy, feelings, or both, in order to not question him on said "sensitive matters. "

"Bebe stated you weren't feeling well."

"Then I apologize and pardon the High Warrior's behalf for her fib. Though unnecessary, she was only attempting to preserve my pride," he retorted without missing a beat.

While that asshole part of him wants to laugh at the way Kyle so passive-aggressively phrased it, if not to lighten his own mood, Stan can't deny he's taken aback by the obvious blow. Bebe on the other hand, showed no distinct sign of being offended, though her red eyes (how did he miss that her eyes were red until just now?) certainly seemed to be boring into the redhead as if they alone could shoot toxins through his pores.

Fran's face didn't change, though her eyes did flicker to and fro the accused. "I see. Well, I would still prefer to carry out a check-up on you, Your Majesty."

Kyle shook his head. "Unnecessary, High Healer. I am perfectly well, as you can see."

Fran argued before Stan could. "Kyle, you know it will only take a moment."

The Jew didn't respond, probably unable to come up with an excuse, since no, Kyle didn't know that whatever procedure Fran had in mind would "only take a moment."

"Very well," he relented, tone hesitant, yet recognizing it would only look suspicious if he continued to refuse the offer.

Fran smiled. Stan wasn't sure exactly what she was planning on doing, since she had no equipment on her to perform any type of diagnosis he'd had with doctors.

His confusion only continued when she proceeded to close her eyes and place a gentle hand on Kyle's forehead without warning, a soft yellow glow emanating from the palm. Stan felt his body stiffen and could see Kyle's doing the same, but stopped himself from making any sudden movement when after just a few seconds, the healer lowered her hand.

Fran opened her eyes, smile still there, though she now appeared relieved.

"Well, it seems you are in good health, Sire." As she spoke, her eyes traveled to the uneaten food resting on the small table. "Though I could detect slight lightheadedness from a lack of nutrients. My only request is that you finish all your breakfast, then get fully dressed."

"I... I-I…" Realizing no comprehensible words were coming out of him, Kyle quickly cleared his throat, once again composing himself and rolling with whatever-the-hell she just did. "My thanks, High Healer."

She nodded, then turned her attention to the one person she had yet to address.

"The same goes for you too, Ranger Marshwalker. Would you like an examination as well?"

Stan blinked, realizing she was talking to him, and how right then, all eyes were on him, including Kyle's. They locked for a split second, and the message that rested within Kyle's was clear. Don't you dare blow our damn cover, Marsh.

Stan abruptly felt an expectedness for himself bloom in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but found that no sound could move past his sudden desert of a tongue, so the Marsh simply shook his head. He didn't really want any glowy, magical hands on him anyway.

Fran frowned but didn't press. "Very well then. I will inform the castle designers that a new window is needed. Now, Kyle -" his attention snapped back to her. Fran still appeared maternal, though her dark eyes twinkled with a sharpness that held no room for compromise."I suggest you set up a lesson with High Mage McDaniels sooner than what's on your schedule. I take this as an unfortunate slip-up that won't happen again, but it's better to be safe than sorry." Kyle stayed frozen and unspoken. Whatever he was thinking couldn't be that bad, since none of that mist began emanating.

Though Stan thought he saw his right hand - the one which held the staff - quivering.

"Bebe," she addressed next, who stood herself taller. "You have served Larnion well for years, so please do not think of me as ungrateful. However, while I am sure your intentions were in His Majesty's best interest, lying to your fellow Council mates will only result in mistrust."

Stan could hear the blond take in a shutter of a breath.

"I will not tell them about your mistruths, but it will take time for you to earn my trust again fully. I admit I'm quite disappointed. I cannot have you lying about our King's health." Like Kyle, Bebe said nothing.

Knowing full-well the weight of her words, Fran gave one last bow before turning away. "I will see you three later."

But before Stan could even relax from his tense pose, just as she set a foot out from the entryway, the healer paused.

Fran glanced behind her shoulder.

Directly at him.

"And Stanley."

Stan felt the lump lodged in his throat drop straight down to the pit of his gut, heart beginning to race as the burning eyes of a passionate doctor met his own. Maybe that last fact alone was enough to cause his muscles to tense up as if it were a drill instructor calling him out.

Of course, no such tone rang from the tender woman's lips, but the raw sincerity in her earnest voice alone would have been enough to garner any fleet's attention away from even the loudest official.

"As always, take care of your King."

NOTES:

I promise you we're getting out of this room next chapter!

Also, I'm beginning to realize just how long and poooooosibly complicated this story will be? If I get all that I want to get done, done, then there's gong to be a lot of characters and their backstories to sort through.

So with that said, right now, I'm looking for a beta reader for this story, to help me with continuity, grammar, and things like that. If you are interested, please let me know if there's any other stories you've beta read, as well as the best means for communication.