A/N: Genderswapping is hard, m'kay?

Enjoy~

Kenny watched with brimming eyes, anger and frustration bubbling through them as Cartman paced about his room and looked at the arching ceiling thoughtfully. "Aren't you leaving yet? Don't you have a fucking kingdom to go run into the ground?" he demanded impatiently.

Eric looked at him and narrowed his gaze at the insinuation. "Not until I'm sure we have a full understanding, Kinny," he hissed. Kenny rolled his eyes, looking around at the ornate room the elves had set him within, or at least, ornate by elven standards. Plants curled up the walls, the fresh scent of pine lingered thickly in a comforting aroma. The bed he was seated upon was nice and plush, filled with feathers that dipped gently under his weight. Flowers bloomed along the headboard in arrays of purple and blue; a promise for good dreams upon his stay. The boy sighed, scratching his long hair and shaking his head.

"I know what you want," he finally said.

"And just how are you going to get it?" he asked expectantly with raised, thick brows.

He glanced at him through thick lashes, letting out a hefty breath through his nose. "By earning Kyle's trust."

He nodded curtly. "Shouldn't be hard. That Jew will probably trust anyone. Their entire race is built on 'loving your neighbor' or whatever 'holier-than-thou-art' bullshit they're so interested in selling to the rest of us that they are." He shook his head in disgust. Liars. Every last one of the elven lying bastards were nothing but a scourge to the rest of the lands. There was a reason humans lived in fear of them, watching them waving their hands and throwing glowing trees, putting out fires by lifting water from the lakes themselves. They were dangerous. No dangerous race would be so peace-loving with such an arsenal held right within their dirtied fingertips.

Cartman had figured them out the moment he'd met Kyle at the tender age of four, watching as he showed him in excitement the first spell he'd learned. The two of them sat in the courtyard of Kupa Keep, Kyle holding up his small hand and wriggling fingers still tinted with baby fat. 'Watch this,' he'd proclaimed proudly. Eric had backed up in fright as the Jew's face became knit in concentration, suddenly relaxing as his hand began to glow a bright green. The redhead had laughed quietly at his reaction as he knelt onto the ground, his oversized robes bunching in coils around him. The human had stared as the glowing palm was placed onto a patch of dirt, eyes widening at sprouts of grass popping up under and around the hand. Kyle had smiled at him as he took his hand off from the lush, gleaming grass. 'Isn't that neat?' he'd asked innocently, as though he were unaware of the evil magics working its way through his body. It was unnatural. It was horrifying. Cartman had called him a witch and Kyle had punched him in the stomach and began yelling at him, standing over his curled body, those evil magic-wielding palms flailing around in frustration. Eric couldn't remember the words, only the pure fury of the Drow, the absolute fear curling in his own stomach and wondering if he would use that devil magic against him and kill him right then and there. The words were long faded from his memory, but his plan was still clear: The elves had to be stopped.

"Well that's what good people do, they trust one another without needing fucking payment to cement it," Ken said sharply, snapping him out of his angered reminiscing. The blonde's tensed shoulders dropped and he shifted uncomfortably atop his down quilt, finger tracing mindlessly along the stitches of a fern pattern placed into the fabric. "Cartman...the elves are kind," he mumbled. The brunette stopped his pacing and tilted his head in disbelief. "Kyle doesn't seem to be the type to hurt someone, he seems nice. Why do you want to hurt him?"

The king rolled his eyes, "Not just him. Kinny, Kupa Keep is losing power. The only way to get it back is with my plans. And that scrawny little fuck just happens to be the stepping stone!"

"What about the fucking marriage?" Ken demanded. "That should heighten the authority just fine if we can get elves to begin coming into the land! Money will start flowing, the expansion of the army will be massive. You're going to have magic at your beck and call to assist in conflict! How can you not see the benefits that you yourself promised the poor king and queen?!"

He let out a dramatic shudder, his skin crawling under his heavily adorned robes. "I don't want any elvish piece of shit crossing my borders," he hissed. "Kupa Keep is a land of humans, and I want Zaron itself to be that way. It'd be different if they'd relocate to their own countries, but this faction refuses to leave!"

Kenny narrowed his eyes, "They were in Zaron first, Fatass. If anything, we should be the ones who-"

Cartman held up an angry hand, a hot breath seeping through his nostrils. He wasn't about to be told to leave what he'd worked so hard and patiently to grab a hold of. "You are not here to argue. You are here to get into Kahl's good graces. May I remind you of what brought you here?"

Kenny closed his eyes, a dry gulp receding down his slim throat. He knew exactly what brought him here. It was the same thing that placed him into dresses at the age of five, that convinced him to join the royal rankings as an 'adopted daughter' by Cartman's fiendish little mind. He shuddered, unbelieving that he'd been this monster's puppet for so many years. He let out a trembling breath, a joyous brunette girl passing through his mind, calling his name and tripping over thin, clumsy legs as she ran to hug him, kissing his cheek as he managed to scrounge up the money to buy her a small doll. She was ripping his heart to pieces. "How do I know my sister is safe?" he asked lowly.

"What?"

He looked back at him, an icy stare nearly penetrating the glutton. They watched each other in silence, Cartman nearly recoiling at the rare angered expression before remembering how many cards he held, watching as Kenny struggled to fish his own out of the deck. "How do I know you're staying true to your word and keeping Karen safe?" he repeated, getting to his feet and hovering over the king even from across the room. "How do I know that I'm not here following your ridiculous plans while she's starving or...or being sold to men?" he bit, frustrated and worried tears beading along his lashes.

The king rolled his eyes in annoyance, "My word is-"

"Shit," Kenny finished bitterly. "I want better than your fucking word, considering you just made a treaty with a kingdom that you have no intention of following through with!"

He crossed his arms and groaned impatiently, shaking his head. "Fine. Just what do you propose? Keep in mind sending her here is not an option," he added dryly.

He let out a growl through his throat, looking down in thought. "Tweek," he said softly.

"What about him?" he blinked confusedly.

"I want Tweek to be her watcher," he demanded, snapping those dangerous eyes back up to the king. "He doesn't lie. I want weekly reports, from him, informing me of her status."

"Fine, I'll-"

"I'm not fucking done," he snapped, watching those amber eyes glowing with warning but not feeling the slightest bit of fear of a retaliation. His plans all went to shit without Kenny, after all. "He's to be closely involved with her, to the point where he communicates with her," he ordered. "And in each letter, I want him to tell me something that Karen told him that only she would know about between us to ensure the authenticity of the words. Do you fucking understand me? Or should I write it down since you can't seem to keep a simple thought in that fat head of yours before you beat it down for more plans against the fucking Drows?"

Cartman shook his head slowly, shoulders heaving with an angry breath. "Look, you better damn well remember who your king is, Po'Boy."

He cocked his brow superiorly. "You pretty much sold me to the elves, Fatass. King Gerald is my king now. You heard the prince: You're nothing but a guest," he drawled, lips hitching in a smirk as Cartman fumed, a low growl escaping his throat. "They don't own people here," he repeated the young redhead with a casual shrug, flipping his long hair back behind him. "Guess you're not used to being put in your place, huh, Fatboy?"

The brunette stalked over to him and shoved him back onto the bed, glaring as Kenny scrambled up and returned the expression. "Listen and listen good, Kinny," he seethed. "You'll get your reports from Tweek, but I expect reports from you on a weekly basis as well, am I clear?"

He rolled his eyes, "Like what? 'Kyle and I went to the fucking market'?"

"Yes!" he snapped. "You have six months of courting before a wedding is planned. I want to make damn well sure that you're using your time wisely. Don't make me just show up for a random inspection, Kinny," he warned. They continued staring each other down until the king sighed and rubbed his temple tiredly. "I'm going back home. I can't stay here in their...dungeon any longer," he shuddered.

Ken scoffed, "It's nicer than Kupa Keep. At least they don't have bars on the windows."

"That's only for your room," he sneered, turning on his heel and heading towards the door. He took another look back at the blonde and shook his head. "Don't fuck up, Kinny."

The blonde just stared with those deadly blues as the king huffed and headed out the door, slamming it closed behind him. Kenny slumped tiredly, looking around once more at the nature spawning throughout the quarters and letting out a tired sigh. He plopped down onto the bed, letting his eyes slip closed and allowing himself to wander in the voice of Karen calling his name once more, letting the grip around his heart tighten all over again.

Kyle shifted uncomfortably at the table, letting his spoon sift through the soup steaming from his bowl and glancing around at his family quietly eating. He glanced to the empty chair now set beside him and sighed tiredly. "So...where the fuck is Kendra?" he asked blandly.

"She eats in her room," Sheila replied, casually shifting through correspondences beside her.

The redhead blinked, raising his brow and looking off to the adjacent room, seeing Stan, Token, Clyde, Butters, and Craig sitting and eating together bantering quietly and letting out a long breath. He bit his lip and tapped the spoon on the side of the dish, stealing a glance at Ike who was staring back. The Canadian shot him a knowing look, subtly raising his free hand and rolling it to convince him to move along with whatever questions he was wondering. The prince took a spoonful of the squash soup and took a bite to stall for a few moments, letting the velvet texture swirl around his mouth, the spices overtake his senses. He looked back at his mother and cleared his throat. "Um...shouldn't she...eat with us?" he asked.

"She's a very private lady," Sheila retorted without batting an eye, her finger moving down lines of text as she worked.

He narrowed his eyes, "Okay, but if she's supposed to be becoming family, then shouldn't she-"

"Kyle," Gerald interjected, looking at him with a sympathetic, tired glance. "Maybe one day she'll be comfortable enough. Right now she's tired and doesn't know where she is. There's nothing wrong with her being a little to herself."

Kyle's shoulders slumped and he brushed his hair back, scratching at the space where his crown had resided before he'd finally convinced his mother to let him take it off with Eric departing. He couldn't say that watching that carriage drive off didn't give him a certain sense of elation, especially after the initial terror of his mother inviting the king to stay and visit for a couple of days. According to the Wizard King, he had 'business to attend to, but couldn't thank her enough for the offer'. Kyle rolled his eyes. Business. Right. More like 'I hate the elves and I'll be damned if I stay in their treehouse'. He looked up at his focused mother, darting eyes between his father and brother who both wore looks warning him to tread cautiously.

"Ma?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Bubbeleh?"

He licked over his lips and took a deep breath. "Did you...meet Kendra before setting me up with her?"

She paused, finally raising her eyes and meeting her son's miserable gaze. "No," she said softly. "Your father and I went on word alone. We'd heard from many sources of how kind and generous she was, and Liane called her beautiful all the time. We figured that it was good enough."

"So...you didn't know that she can't talk?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes in the slightest.

Sheila shifted and cleared her throat, "No, Bubbie. We heard she was quiet. Not mute."

He took a steadying breath, drumming his fingers against his thigh. "How do you expect this to work?" he demanded. "How do you expect the kingdom to be all right with their queen passing notes?"

She narrowed her eyes, "Kyle, she-"

"Because," he interrupted, rage building quicker than he could seem to dismantle. "I feel as though were I a member of the kingdom who needed a solution to my problem, fucking reading about it wouldn't help. That's our thing, right? We don't do written decrees? Because better to hear straight from our mouths?"

She scowled, "The manner doesn't matter, Kyle. What matters is the message."

"According to you, the manner does matter!" he snapped. "Otherwise I wouldn't of had to bow and shit to this girl that I don't even know like she's my fucking soulmate!"

Sheila rapped her fist against the table, trying to force a calming breath down her throat. "Whether or not she's your soulmate doesn't matter anymore, Kyle. You will be courting her whether you want to or not. This marriage is happening," she said dangerously. "I suggest you come to peace with it as quickly as possible, because how you feel will not change the matter."

"Of course it won't," he spat. "Because what do you care? You got your happiness!" he gestured to his dad who watched his son guiltily. "And I'm sure when Ike comes of age, he'll get to go through a human's process of finding his soulmate, right?"

"We're not talking about Ike," she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes, "Of course not. Because you know I'm right! Everyone else in our family, everyone else in our fucking history has come out of their season with happiness! For the people or whatever, I know, but how happy are the people going to be when they realize that not only am I bringing a fucking human into our kingdom, but one who can't even command the simple art of speaking?" He stopped and his shoulders slumped, looking at his soup blankly. "They're going to hate me, Ma," he said quietly, voice cracking.

She watched him for a moment, Gerald and Ike looking at each other and their family members in worry. The group in the room beside them stopped their eating and talking, looking out the door to observe the commotion. The queen took a deep breath and shook her head. "Kyle, the Drows would never hate you. Larnion has loved you since you were a child."

"I didn't bring them a poison," he said bitterly.

"The princess is not a poison!" she said, mouth gaping a bit at her son's attitude. "She's a lovely-"

He waved his hands to stop her. "She herself seems...nice," he conceded. "But you've always told me there's two fucking sides: The person and the fucking sovereign," he reminded her angrily. "Our kingdom hasn't had me as their sovereign, they like me as a person who just happens to be in the royal fucking family," he rolled his eyes. "This could change all of that. She could bring our family name crashing into the fucking ground, Ma, regardless of how 'lovely' you believe she is."

She folded her hands, sitting tall in her chair and staring sternly at her son. "Then it's your job to change that."

Angry emeralds sparked and a furious breath whisked through his teeth. "Yeah. I'll just dismantle racism with one fell fucking swoop, Mother. Seems doable."

"You're going to be a king. It's your job to handle discourse within the people such as that," she reminded him firmly. He growled, shoving away from the table and throwing his ivory cloth napkin upon his lap onto the wooden surface. She glared, "You did not ask to be excused, young man!"

He narrowed his eyes, the both of them fighting for control over the matter, and the both of them knowing they were going to lose. "I didn't ask for a wife either," he reminded her sharply, turning on his heel without listening to her angry retort and storming out of the dining hall, shoving open the door and making way into the corridor. He ignored various servants and guards greeting him, quickly picking up the pace and nearly sprinting to get to his room, the frustration within him trying so valiantly to hit its peak. He couldn't do this. He just couldn't handle this.

He made way through the twisting halls and came to his door, throwing it open and storming up his steps, his heavy boots echoing within the stairwell. He hopped up onto the landing, ripping off his silken coat and angrily throwing it onto the ground, stripping as he made way to his bed and carelessly tossing the ceremonious garments aside. He finally got himself out of the clothing, making way to his destination and throwing himself onto the plush surface. He sniffled, grabbing his sheets and quilt and dragging them over himself, slamming his face down into his pillow and shaking his head.

This was awful. Everything about this was absolutely abhorrent to the young elven prince. He didn't ask for this. He'd behaved as he was supposed to throughout the years, had patiently waited for his time to get the happily ever after that he was promised throughout his entire life. And all it took was a single conversation with the enemy to make all his dreams disappear. He let out a choked sob, trying to shake himself out of it as his emotions swelled under the linen cocoon.

A knock from the side of his stairwell perked his sharp ears. "My Prince?" that familiar voice called. He looked over with tear-glossed eyes to see Stan's head popping through the landing. "Are you all right?" the ranger asked, heart lurching seeing his prince so distraught.

Kyle bit his lip, sniffling and turning his eyes back to his pillow. "No," he croaked. "This isn't fair, Stan. This isn't fucking fair."

"I know," he said pitiably, making way up into the room and sitting on the bed beside him, comfortingly rubbing his covered back.

"We were fine just having the humans in their own place and us staying here," he protested. "This union isn't going to do shit. It's just going to be me and this girl and everyone calling us the fucking interracial monarchy," he slammed his face back into his pillow and sniffed. "The other elven kingdoms will hate me for who I marry. The human kingdoms will hate me for who I am. I can't win, Stan."

The noirette bit his lip, continuing to gently rub his fingertips along the tensed muscle of the prince's back. "I don't know what to say, My Prince," he finally breathed out quietly. "Nothing I can say will make this situation better." The redhead looked back at him and blinked back another row of tears trying to descend, sitting himself up and letting the quilt slide down his bared chest. He reached up and grasped Stan's face, planting their lips together desperately. Stan's eyes fluttered and he leaned in before duty slammed into him and he backed up, panting lightly. "My Prince...Kyle," he breathed. "We can't-"

"I'm your prince," he reminded him, curling his fingers along the shoulder pad of his breastplate. "I'm not asking."

Stan gulped, eyes flittering nervously to the stairwell. "You're engaged, Kyle," he whispered.

"Engaged to a girl I don't know," he said bitterly. "You don't know what to say, so I'm telling you what to do," he emphasized, voice tinging in desperation hiding under his authoritative tone. "Stan," he whispered. "Please...don't let me lose everything in one day," he begged. "Please," he leaned up and kissed him slowly, wrapping his arms around his neck. Stan let out a long, shaking breath against his lips, genially allowing himself to sink into the kiss, hands lightly trailing over Kyle's hips and waist. Kyle wormed out of his covering, pressing his naked body flush against him, their breathing increasing as Stan slowly began to lead him once more onto his back, their fingers tracing along the other with precision.

They were the cartographers of one another, only each other knowing the ins and outs of their bodies, allowing them to become the masters of the helm. Tongues began to trace over necks and chests, nails scraping against one another and quiet sounds breaking through tender, swollen lips. Their one manner of stability, the only people they'd ever trusted was each other; And no marriage was going to take that from them.

A/N: Kahl u ho.

Thanks for R&Ring!