A/N: Lil bit of Stan and Ky history up in here

Enjoy~

Green eyes scanned listlessly over the text in front of him, a long sigh escaping his throat. Kyle smacked his lips in boredom, stifling a yawn as his finger mindlessly scraped along the side of the tome before him. He'd almost prefer being forced to interact with the princess above his studies. Almost.

He glanced to beside him, seeing Stan looking about as enthralled in the day's activities as himself as he polished his broadsword. Sliding down the blade and hitting the hilt, the golden handle gleamed in his eye. Twisted vine embossing twirled along, providing better grip for the ranger in the unlikely event he'd need to use it to protect his prince. The Drow's lips curled in the slightest, remembering when Stan had graduated to that particular sword at the age of twelve. He'd been nearly pushed over by the new weight compared to his training weapon, arms just barely long enough to be able to press it back into its sheath. When he walked, the tip of the container smacked against the ground with every step. Kyle had teased him countless times about how useless he would have been as a rogue for his loud entrances.

He smiled in fond remembrance, seeing twelve year old Stan with his helmet too big and his chest armor loosely over his torso, only the shoulder pads keeping it in place. He'd graduated from his training with flying colors and an undying devotedness to the royal family. Clyde and Token had passed their own exams weeks after him, the both of them watching in jealousy as he had taken the Guard's Pledge. Kyle had almost felt bad for him, after selecting him specifically to be his personal protection, Stan's training increased tenfold. The Captain of the Guard had always been rough on him, pushing the human to his limits as a personal vendetta to prove that non-Drows had no place in their army. Stan never stopped, though. He and Kyle talked about the fun they'd have always being together, how they wouldn't get bored like Kyle did with the stick in the mud guard he'd had until then and Stan being stuck in the line of duty outside the palace walls.

He recalled the smile on the noirette's face as he kneeled to accept his title, unable to keep his excitement bottled within as they were supposed to. Rangers were supposed to never let emotion interfere with duty, but coming from Stan, it was always too charming to rectify. Kyle had stood next to the Captain of the Guard for the ceremony, beaming nobly at his best friend as he officially asked for him to become his sworn protector. Stan had accepted almost too eagerly, wincing as the Captain gave him a deadpanned expression, but lightening up as Kyle started to laugh.

He'd flawlessly made his oath: Duty came before himself. The guard unit was his family, Larnion was forever his home, the royal family was forever his where his loyalty was to lie. Kyle's life came above all else, and he was willing to give his own and more to protect his prince. He'd kissed Kyle's hand, flickering his eyes up shyly at the elf's proud grin, the both of them holding hands for maybe just a touch too long before Stan unwillingly had let him go and bowed his head.

That day had cemented them, bonded them far beyond any relation that Kyle had felt before. From that moment on, Stan was constantly at his side, training complete and on constant alert for his safety. At first it was something Kyle considered amiable, watching those dark blue eyes scanning about, on his side as his constant companion. As the years wore on, however, Kyle was tired of the vigilance against nothing. He'd one day snapped at the noirette, telling him to relax around him, because between his constant tenseness and Kyle's relentless studies, things were starting to get to him.

On that night, Stan had sat in Kyle's room with him, nearly in tears as he apologized. He told him of his fears, how even if he wasn't a guard, Kyle's safety came first. They both weren't stupid, there were enemies lurking out there beyond their kingdom. Safety was something that had to be taken seriously, even if Kyle didn't always see it that way. They'd come to a compromise, for their friendship to take precedence, but for Stan to still be wary. It resulted in a night of the two of them laughing, stealing wine to laugh some more, and ended with a kiss and the both of them falling into each other for the first time.

Kyle's grin nearly turned drunken as it had that night, eyes hazily looking back towards his book and unable to absorb the slightest of information. That night had been a disaster. They didn't know what they were doing. Things were clumsy and intoxicated and full of too much concern. But as first times go, the prince couldn't call it anything less than absolutely perfect. The way Stan cradled him in his hands, their inexperienced fingers curiously tracing along bone and muscle. The sweet taste of kisses tinged with grapes and pastries. How Stan was cautious at every turn, even through his haze recognizing that Kyle's comfort came above his own. He remembered with a small huff of a laugh how he'd grown impatient, demanding that Stan 'just fucking hurry up already'.

Then there was the feeling of being filled, the irrevocable bond that formed with the heat pressed inside of him for that first time. The way he'd nearly cried at the unfamiliarity and Stan had patiently stayed still for minutes, wiping tears off his lashes, peppering him with those tipsy kisses. Everything had turned from a nerve-wrecked mess of pain and confusion into a sopping puddle of warmth within a few gentle thrusts. Stan's lips had to stay attached to his own to keep the prince's noises down, hands tracing his hips and waist as though handling pottery. Kyle's own were busy clawing into his back, demanding more, insisting on remaining as close as possible. He wanted to be smothered in the warmth, he wanted Stan to steal his life away and make it his own. He didn't want to be a prince and his guard in that moment. He wanted to be two boys teetering on the edge of adulthood forming together in a flawless mess of bodily fluids and fervent whispers; And he'd gotten fairly close on that occasion and every one since. His own royal dignity was tossed to the wayside, too into the moment to so much as think of acting as though he held any sort of cards in their relationship as his legs were spread and he was helplessly trapped in Stan's vortex. His ranger, however, could never quite let go of accountability. He still handled Kyle as though he were precious, still refused to make any sort of move that might so much as make him wince with discomfort. The redhead had yet to decide if he appreciated the care or, more likely, just wanted both of their inhibitions completely tossed out the window.

Kyle sighed to himself, knowing that that just wasn't going to happen in this lifetime. Stan was far too invested in his safety for his own good, far too set in the clear facts: Kyle was royalty, so 'his life mattered more' than his own. The redhead rolled his eyes to himself, flicking the corner of his book listlessly. He couldn't complain, Stan was the best thing he had to look forward to on lonely nights, on days when life just got too hard for him to handle. Still, though, he needed escape from who he was. And Stan could just never quite give him so much freedom in the long run.

"You okay?" a voice perked.

Kyle snapped his head over to Stan watching him in concern. He nodded briskly. "Yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

He gave him a knowing smirk, "Because you never take so long on one page," he gestured to the tome in front of him.

The prince shrugged sheepishly, "Well, if someone could make foreign policy a little more interesting, maybe I could actually focus on it." Stan laughed and shook his head, going back to working on his sword. Kyle twisted his lips a bit, watching him. "What would you do if I wasn't a prince?" he asked quietly.

Stan paused and blinked, looking at him confusedly. "What, you mean when you become king?"

He rolled his eyes, "No, you idiot. I mean what if I wasn't royalty? Like, we met outside the palace and I was just...I don't know...a weaver's son or something?" he shrugged.

The noirette licked over his lips, putting his weapon down and staring at him confusedly. "What do you mean what would I do?"

"Would we still be friends?" he asked softly.

He nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. Let's face it, Kyle, you act about as un-princely as possible when it's not required," he snorted. Kyle chuckled and nodded in agreement. "I mean, I can only assume that you'd be the same way if you weren't an actual prince."

His lips formed tightly together, letting out a thoughtful hum. "Would you still be...so...protective?" he winced.

Stan frowned, "I've lightened up, give me some credit here."

"I know, I know," he conceded, waving his hands in front of him. "But c'mon, Stan. You're still beyond defensive of me."

"That's my job," he reminded him, waving his sword hilt a bit. "I'm not your officially declared best friend, Kyle. That's just a perk to my duties."

"What if it wasn't your job, though?" he demanded. "What if I was just some random kid who you happened to be best friends with. Would you still be like this?"

He sighed tiredly, "Your Highness, I don't think-"

"Stan," he snapped. "Answer me."

Stan paused, looking down at the bright silver gleam of his blade, taking a heavy breath. He looked to see those green eyes he was so fond of staring at him impatiently. His eyes traced lightly over the dusting of freckles just barely tinging his pale profile. He nearly shuddered. His lips had touched them so often, tracing down his cheek and under his ear, along his neck and chest. He adored every inch of the fiery elf before him; Every yell, every laugh, every tear. Kyle was his entire life, and a life that he was happy to indulge in every chance he could.

He finally met his stare once again, nodding softly. "Yes."

Kyle's shoulders nearly sank and he looked at him sadly, "Why?"

"Because I grew up with you," he shrugged. Kyle cocked his head confusedly and he gave him a sad smile. "I watched you getting sick time and again, always thinking I was going to lose you..." he paused and brushed some of his hair back. "Do you remember that time you got sick when we were about eight?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "Which time?"

"You know which time," he said firmly, Kyle sinking into himself guiltily. It'd been awful all around. Kyle couldn't stop throwing up, he couldn't walk or talk. Stan had only been permitted to see him a handful of times in the weeks that he was incapacitated. He'd seen his prince looking so scared and fragile, the vibrant green of his eyes muddled and hidden in layer upon layer of agony. He'd lost so much weight that he'd never quite recovered, even to this day. His cheeks were sunken in, ribs prominent under his loose shirt. Stan recalled with a chilling shudder how he'd grabbed Kyle's hand, begging him to hold on while they looked for a way to make him better. The redhead's eyes had welled with tears, unable to say a thing, only able to weakly clutch his fingers back around the boy's own.

Sheila and Gerald were an absolute disaster, barely able to run the simplest of tasks for Larnion. Ike, toddling about at barely two years old, had come into Kyle's room time and again, crawling into his big brother's bed and holding onto him in tears. The kingdom was prepared for mourning, candles being made quicker than they could sell, gardens being prepared for the planting of new life as all citizens did upon a royal member's passing.

Their answer had came from the Drows of Beaverton across the lands resting beside the sea. A high healer had heard of his ailments and came to assist as best as he could with the request of their land's king and queen. A couple trials of potions later and the young prince was on an upswing, regaining color and able to make raspy words here and there. The kingdom had rejoiced, a permanent friendship with the faction had been set into place. They'd sent the healer off with mounds of gifts and powerful flowers grown only in Larnion's soil as a token of their eternal gratitude.

Even as Stan had celebrated along with the rest of Larnion, his heart had ached beyond what it ever had. He'd almost lost his best friend to a way that he could never have prevented. As he watched Kyle slowly regaining strength, laughing quietly and thanking servant after servant for their constant vigilance, he'd found himself in the thrall of his own destiny. What Stan couldn't prevent, he'd have to accept. But he would never let any outside force within his realm of control steal his best friend, his prince from him. As soon as Kyle had been able to form a cohesive sentence and smile without nearly passing out in exhaustion, Stan had stormed up to Sheila and Gerald requesting to train within the royal guard to protect Kyle. They'd been thrilled with the notion and set him up within the next day, despite Kyle rolling his eyes and telling him it was all unnecessary.

The noirette shook himself out of it, looking at his prince still shying down guiltily. "I almost lost you," he said quietly.

Kyle looked at him and bit his lip, "But you didn't. That's what matters."

"What matters is that I don't until you're like, three hundred, okay?" he scoffed.

Kyle snorted, "Pretty sure even your overprotectiveness can't get me that far, Stan."

He smirked and shrugged dismissively, "I can damn well try."

The elf smiled sadly and put his hand on the human's arm. "You realize how much more dutiful you are over this than any of my family's guards...right?" he winced.

Stan shrugged again, "Well, you're my best friend on top of it all, so I just happen to hang a little closer to you, that's all."

"Filmore is Ike's best friend," he cocked his brow.

Stan was quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, "It's different."

"How? Because of...what we do?" he said cautiously, sharp eyes glancing for any potential passer-bys.

The ranger tongued over his lips, "In a way, yeah," he said softly. He blushed nervously, stomach bubbling and forcing himself to stop a possible projectile of bile as he felt Kyle continuing to study him carefully.

"What do you mean...in a way?" he narrowed his eyes curiously.

"It's not important," he said quietly.

Kyle blinked, "Obviously it is or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"You started it, Ky," he reminded him.

"And you added the new element," he argued. "Stan, what the fuck is going on?"

He refused to look at him. He couldn't. The ranger stroked over his hilt with his thumb, eyes locked down on the intricate detail lingering under the ridges. "It's not important," he repeated.

Kyle's eyes shifted on a dime to frustration. "Dammit, Stan, what on Earth is up with you?"

Stan finally dared to look at him, heart lurching at the anger and hurt returning his stare. A soft lilac movement caught his attention and he looked past Kyle to see Kendra approaching in the distance, caught between relief and his own resentment. "Princess," he said hurriedly, getting to his feet and bowing, feeling Kyle's anger beaming at him from changing the subject.

"Don't you dare try to get away from me, Stanley," Kyle demanded, getting to his feet as well as Kendra watched in confusion. "Don't use her as your escape-"

"I'm sure you two have some...uh...talking to do?" he winced, looking at Kendra who silently laughed and nodded. He looked down at his fuming prince and gulped. "Have fun, Your Highnesses," he said, grabbing his sword and stepping away from the table, gesturing for Kendra to take his seat before heading away to the other side of the room.

Kyle watched after him, fists clenched and an annoyed breath escaping him. Kendra stepped up beside him, looking between the redhead and the receding, nervous noirette and cocking her head. Kyle flinched as a paper was pushed against him, 'Are you all right?'

He looked up at the concerned blonde and took a deep breath. "I don't know," he said honestly. "He's acting...weird," he cocked his brow. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Oh well, I'll corner him later. Bastard can't stay away from me for long without thinking there's an arrow in my fucking neck," he rolled his eyes. He sighed off some of his stress to redirect his focus. "How are you, Princess?" he asked tiredly.

She just nodded with a small smile, sitting down and grasping his wrist for him to do the same. Kyle gulped and did as directed, the both of them staring at each other silently.

"So..." Kyle broke through awkwardly. "What's...up?" he winced.

Kendra smirked, glancing between him and his parchment as she wrote, sliding it over to him with a cocked brow. 'Are you always so adorably awkward? Or is that also just for me?'

Kyle's face burned, eyes lingering on the adjective. How casual it'd been written, how easily she'd wormed it into the sentence as though she'd been saying such things to him all her life. "Uh..." he looked at her embarrassedly as she eagerly awaited a response. "I...I uh..." he couldn't find his words, every ounce of eloquence he held seeping from his lips and dripping onto his shaking fingers, passing through them like fine sand.

Another note caught his attention, 'Please, My Prince, save some of this utterly romantic banter for the wedding night. I feel spoiled.'

She winked at him and he burned deeper, Kendra watching with a wide grin. "Shut up," he finally snapped in fluster, watching as she placed her head into her arms in laughter, shoulders convulsing as she tried so desperately to keep herself silent. Kyle scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair, staring at his book with a pout. She looked up at him and smiled at the light crinkle on his nose, the frustrated furrow of his brow, the quick batting of thick lashes. He finally looked over at her, lips still twisted. "What?" he bit.

She grinned, 'Nothing, My dear. I just didn't realize that you would be the one needing a fan to cover your blush at gatherings is all.'

He groaned and hid his eyes with his hand, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. He felt her hand gently being placed on his back, rubbing subtly and he froze, eyes shooting open under his palm. Her hand left automatically with the tension, another note pressing against him a few moments later. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Touch wise, at least.'

He glanced over to her wincing and shook his head. "You're fine..." he said hesitantly. "It just surprised me is all." They stared at each other again, light green and blue locked against one another like a stormy sea, waiting to see which one of them could take hold of the tide. Kyle finally shook himself and cleared his throat. "Did you need something?" he asked finally.

'Just wanted to see you,' she replied honestly. 'You're the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm a freak.'

He looked back at a saddened expression and his own fell pitiably, "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "The others just aren't used to humans they haven't seen for all their lives."

'Even the other humans?' she looked up in Stan's direction with a quick challenging brow.

Kyle glanced between the both of them, seeing Stan's eyes locked on the princess and a slight crinkle on his forehead, just barely hidden under his choppy bangs. Kyle sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "They will get used to you, I promise. This is an adjustment for everyone."

'You seem to be adjusted to me quite well,' she teased.

He shrugged with a returning smirk, "I don't have much choice in the matter, do I?" She rolled her eyes in good humor and nodded. She glanced to the book in front of him and cocked her head, pointing at it curiously. He sighed, "Studies on foreign policy." He flicked the book in boredom, "Always updating. I'll have a new edition by next week regarding Kupa Keep I'm sure," he grumbled. "Don't know about you but it's the first time I'll be in one of these stupid things," he waved towards it dismissively.

'What are you reading about now?'

He licked over his lips and cleared his throat. "Well, it's in regards to the Drow faction in Canada and our currency exchanges when we make trades."

'Sounds fun.'

"Oh, it's a riot," he drawled. "We actually have a meeting coming up with their king next week, we're wanting to up our export rate of soil so we can increase our profits."

Kendra raised his brow, drafting her response with a cautious stance. 'You export dirt?'

He shrugged, "Soil is important. Up in their region it's hard to find any soil fertile enough to grow what they need, so we send it to them to use within their botanical houses. You wouldn't think just 'dirt' would warrant a two hour discussion, but that's honestly one of the shorter meetings," he chuckled.

She smirked, 'Sounds awful.'

"Oh, it is," he nodded with a grin. "Welcome to the always enthralling land of the Drow," he teased. She laughed and he slid the book between the both of them. "I'm probably going to the meeting, which means you're welcome to, too, if you want," he offered with a wince.

Kendra stared at him for a moment and blinked, passing him another hasty note. 'I've never been in a meeting like that.'

He glanced up at her worried face, smiling assuredly.

"Well, you can just observe, then. You said you're a better listener," he reminded her. "So you can listen and see how we handle things...If you're okay with that idea," he added hurriedly.

She smiled gently and nodded, scooting herself closer, their arms resting against one another's. Kyle coughed lightly, eyes widening before focusing his attention back onto the book, starting to shakily pick out specific points and explain them to her. The princess took in every word, nodding attentively and eyes sparkling with curiosity as his words flew between them as smooth as silk.

From across the room, Stan watched them with crossed arms, teeth grating against each other as he watched how close the two of them were sitting. His eyes darkened, narrowed dangerously at the foreign blonde, sitting there so casually close and personal, daring to touch his prince.

A/N: Stan you jealous little bean.

Thanks for R&Ring!