A/N: Two sections up in here

Enjoy~

Stan's eyes hadn't left the window in hours, watching as the sun sank down below the horizon. He was exhausted, mentally and otherwise. He just didn't know how to handle all the changes that were coming to his kingdom, how to deal with the fucking princess who'd just waltzed right in and taken Kyle's hand like it was meant for her. He growled to himself, seeing those blue eyes gazing up and down his prince's body earlier that day. Maybe she thought she was subtle, who knew. But something about the tone of her eyes changed, going from a curious clarity to a deep-seated haze. Stan knew that look, he wore it himself for the prince, catching it many a time in his reflection or even seeing Kyle giving it right back to himself: It was lust. She lusted for his prince. This foreigner who didn't know their ways, who was so casually impetuous with the royal figure that was above herself...Stan shook his head. He didn't get it. Why couldn't Kyle see what she was doing? Why was he allowing this girl to get to him like she was?

It didn't make any sense. Kyle was far too smart, far too grounded in the means of chivalry with everyone but Stan himself. The noirette was the one person that Kyle let go of himself for, opened himself up to the possibility of living like, as Kyle put it, a normal elf. He could shove down everything with Stan; His status, his duties, his overwhelming magic that only Stan knew how to help him control when it got out of hand. But the prince was seeming adamant on letting the princess into the circle as well, going so far as to hold her hand.

He bristled, biting his lip and letting his canine dig into the thin skin. Kyle wouldn't even do that with him, not even behind closed doors. The most he got was an afterglow kiss and a few brisk touches here and there while Kyle reeled from his hormones. He didn't like to be overly affectionate, he'd always wanted to keep himself at that distance, where the both of them fell into each other for sex and sex only. It was something that Stan loathed, and an irritating element of his existence that he wished the Drow would reconsider...But it was enough for him to get by with at least. But now? Watching Kendra and he clasping fingers, phalanges sliding disgustingly flawlessly against one another.

Kyle had once told Stan when they held hands during sex that he hated holding the guard's hand, that it was too big for him to feel comfortable slipping in and out of. He had noted how Stan's palms sweat, how his calluses from his sword grip distracted him from the task at hand. He'd laughed at Stan's pout at his observations, kissing the back of his hand and shrugging sheepishly. "Well, we can't be perfect in every way. You have your hands, I have my fucking knees," he'd pointed to his knobby patella and laughed. Stan had been dumbfounded, thinking every inch of Kyle was perfect, loving how his knees stood out starkly against his lean legs, just another element that beckoned him in, demanded another glance like his fiery hair or his stunning eyes.

But, apparently his hands just weren't good enough. No, Kendra's were. Fingers nearly as slender as Kyle's own sliding between the webbing, metacarpals clasped against one another like it was the most natural thing in the world for the both of them despite their awkward stance. Stan sighed irritably and shook his head. He hated every bit of this situation.

He hated being nothing more than the fucking guard. He had no real say in anything. Kyle had asked his opinion on matters countless times, but in the end, all that mattered was what the prince declared. And he'd made his declaration loud and clear: You're not the most important one in my life anymore.

"Stan?" a voice popped up, the ranger whirling around to see Clyde looking at him tiredly. "Stan, Prince Kyle is requesting you visit him in his room." His heart skipped a bit, eyes lighting up and he nodded, hopping to his feet. He started to hurry off before Clyde held up his hand to stop him for a moment, worry in his hazel eyes. "Stan...what happened?"

"Whaddya mean?" he narrowed his gaze.

"You came back from the kingdom. Without Kyle. You never leave Kyle alone," he frowned.

Stan shrugged awkwardly, "He told me to."

"Why?" he demanded.

He bit his lip, "I...wasn't particularly kind to something the princess said."

Clyde frowned, "You know better." Stan just nodded and Clyde sighed, "Stan, don't mess this up, all right? The two of them together is a good thing," he insisted. "Don't let your own possessiveness of Kyle cloud your judgement," he warned.

Blue eyes flickered up into his own, Clyde reading a heavy misery within them. "I won't. I have to go," he murmured, speeding past him and refusing to give him the chance to say another word. The brunette just shook his head, turning to go return to his duties.

Stan hurried through the halls, nearly shoving servants over to get to Kyle's door. He placed his hand on the knob and gulped, straightening himself up and taking a deep breath. He had to go about this calmly. Losing his temper against Kyle was a battle he'd never win. The Jew had a hell of a lot more lung power than he did, after all. Carefully creaking open the door, he stepped inside, moving within the stairwell and clambering up the steps. He licked over his lips, watching the light of Kyle's room grow brighter as he ascended, pausing four steps from the landing and taking a deep breath. He knocked on the wall.

"Come up," Kyle's voice called, Stan did as allowed, his head poking up from the stairwell and cringing at Kyle sitting on his bed, staring at him darkly. "Get up here," he growled.

The ranger made his way onto the landing, taking a deep breath and wincing. "Yes, Your Highness?"

Kyle got to his feet and shook his head. "Stan...I have never been so angry at you," he snapped, the guard recoiling. "You embarrassed Kendra. You embarrassed yourself. You embarrassed me," he gestured to himself. "You are supposed to represent my ideals and you have the fucking nerve to talk to her like that? What the fuck can you even say to explain yourself?!"

He shifted and rubbed his arm sheepishly. "She...what she said was...lewd," he said quietly.

"Oh, wow. Because lewdness offends me so. Oh my god. Thank you for saving me," he said dryly.

"Kyle, you're a prince," he reminded him. "You aren't just another street merchant or something, she can't talk to you like that!"

He narrowed his eyes, "And she's a princess," he countered. "Our conversations are between us, not you." Kyle stepped closer to him and sighed angrily. "Dammit, Stan. I'm marrying her," he insisted.

"Maybe your mom will call it off," he shrugged meekly, feeling so much tinier than the small menace across from him.

Kyle scoffed, "For one thing, we both know my mother. That isn't happening. For another, what the fuck do you think is going to happen if it is called off?"

"She goes home, things go back to normal?" he winced.

"And you get me all to yourself," he continued. Stan was silent and he crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Stan...You just said it yourself: I'm a prince. What we have...It isn't going to last forever," he said quietly.

"I was prepared for you to have your season," he said quietly. "I...hated that it would happen, but I knew it would and there'd be nothing I could do..." He frowned, "But I wasn't ready for someone like her."

"Why do you hate her so much?" he demanded. "Because she fucking teases me? Fucking everyone teases me, Stan," he reminded him wryly. "I'm fucking tiny, it's easy to pick on me," he rolled his eyes.

He sighed in exasperation, "No."

"Then what?!"

Stan looked up at him once more and shook his head. "I don't like how she looks at you."

Kyle cocked his head, "Whaddya mean?"

Stan blinked at him, "Do...do you not see it?"

"See what?" he looked at him in bewilderment.

"She has moments where she...she looks at you like..." he struggled for the words, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "She looks at you like you're a fucking piece of meat, Kyle."

He hitched his brow, "What? Like I'm less than her?"

"Oh my god, this is why you can't marry her," he said miserably, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're too fucking innocent about this whole thing."

The prince narrowed his eyes before they widened in realization. "Oh. OH!" he exclaimed. "Dude, I think we established a few years ago that I ain't innocent, all right?" he scoffed. He paused for a moment, nose scrunching in thought. "Wait, she actually wants to sleep with me?"

"Pretty fucking sure," he muttered.

"Is it bad I didn't even think about that?" he twisted his lips. "Gross. I'd have to do all the work," he pouted. "I've never slept with a chick, I don't know how that whole thing even works."

Stan stared at him in shock. "Really? That's your problem with the situation? Not the fact that she's eying you like a fucking piece of bait?"

"Oh no, my future wife is attracted to me, what will I do?" he looked at Stan as though he were stupid. "Fucking hell, Stan, I don't know what you want me to say here."

"Do you want to sleep with her?"

"Not particularly, I don't know her that well," he shrugged. "But that whole thing is like, five months off," he waved dismissively.

Stan watched him carefully, hearing a slight quiver in his voice, watching his feet shifting his weight awkwardly. "Why do you hold her hand so much?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, not this again," he rolled his eyes.

"You did it once for appearances with the Canadian kings," he frowned. "But...but you can't seem to stop now."

He quirked his brow, "So I fucking hold her hand, so what? Is that really so fucking weird considering our current position?"

"Yes!" he insisted. "You don't like that cuddly shit, remember?" he reminded him harshly.

That seemed to stop Kyle in his tracks for a moment, looking at the ground thoughtfully and furrowing his brow. Stan was right. He didn't. He'd hated the idea of being so public about any kinds of affection with whomever would end up as his betrothed. He didn't even like cuddling with fucking Stan in private after the ranger fucked him. But with Kendra...he didn't even notice what he was doing. "I...I'm merely...showcasing that our...our union is-"

"Bullshit, Kyle!" Stan snapped, the redhead recoiling in shock at the outburst. "I know you better than anyone," he rambled on, clutching at his hair. "You don't make those kinds of political moves without it being glaringly obvious! At least to me!" he gestured to himself. "You're doing it without even thinking!"

The elf watched him carefully, throat bobbing with a gulp. He straightened himself up once more, trying to regain the stance that had wavered. "She's in a foreign land and can't talk, Stanley," he reminded him solemnly. "She needs someone."

"Then why isn't her paladin helping her?"

"Because she's not marrying her paladin!" he snapped. His face dropped miserably and Stan's along with it. "Stan...what do you want me to do?" he asked, voice cracking in the slightest. "Do...do you want me to make her hate me? So I'm living the rest of my life with someone who resents me?"

"No, I just-"

"Because," he cut him off, teeth grating against each other and frustrated tears just barely dotting his lashes, "regardless of her feelings or my own, we're stuck together, okay? And I don't want to live the rest of my life with someone who can't stand me."

Stan watched him carefully, eying the tense, defensive stance that Kyle exuded. "Can you stand her?" he asked softly.

"Yes. I can," he snapped. "She's nice. She's making the effort to get in good graces with my people! That's fucking important to me, Stan!" he insisted.

The ranger sighed, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "Kyle, she's not treating you like a fucking prince-"

"And there's nothing wrong with that!" he shut him down in an instant, Stan staring at him with wide eyes. "I don't want someone who fucking...bows to me or...or acts like my opinion matters more!" he exclaimed. "Fucking shit why the fuck do you think you and I get naked all the goddamn time?!"

Stan's heart dropped, staring at the small, panting prince with rage firing in those deep green eyes; Those eyes that he saw in his sleep, that he wanted to see more than anything. "So that's all I am?" he asked meekly. "I'm...I'm an escape?"

Kyle blinked, going rigid at the realization of his statement. "Stan...Stan, no," he insisted, walking up to him and grabbing his arm. "Stan, I'm sorry, you're not just an escape," he winced. "Look...I can't...explain it," he said exhaustively, looking up into Stan's devastated stare. "You...you aren't royalty," he said quietly. "You don't understand what it's like to be...holed up like this. And to put on such a fucking face and be someone you're not."

"I've seen you enough that I kno-" he stopped as Kyle's finger pressed against his lips and a small, sad smile hit the Drow's face.

"No, you don't. Otherwise you never would have attacked Kendra like that..." he sighed, moving forward and placing his head against Stan's chest. The ranger gulped, wrapping his arms around the Drow and holding him tightly, eyes clenched shut in misery. "Stan, this is happening whether you approve or not," Kyle reminded him. "I need you. I need you to be supportive. This is hard enough for me without having you against me as well."

Stan gulped, nuzzling down into his wild curls. "You don't seem to be having too hard of a time," he muttered.

"I'm trying to make the best of the situation," he murmured, closing his eyes and letting Stan's familiar warmth envelop him.

The ranger took a deep breath, opening his eyes and staring across the room dully as he let the prince's words settle on him uneasily. "Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

He bit his lip, terrified of a coming answer. "Are you falling for her?"

The room fell deathly silent, the boys clinging onto each other just a little tighter in the heavy tension trying to push them apart from each other. Kyle let out a shaking breath, reopening his eyes into Stan's armor, letting himself slide his gaze along the twisting design of his breastplate. Finally, a meek reply broke through, both of them closing their eyes again and delving their heads deeper against one another, afraid to lose the closeness all at once from the implication: "I don't know."

Maybe on another day, Eric would have been perfectly content with sitting and watching person by person passing along by his window. He'd catch his citizens staring up at his grand home in jealousy, just wishing that they could indulge in such a lavish lifestyle as that of their monarch.

Too bad, so sad.

However, today he just couldn't seem to care. Something was feeling off, he just couldn't seem to put his finger on it. He glanced over to see Garrison knocking on the frame of his door. "You wanted something?" the duke asked in boredom.

"I need your counsel," he said blandly, listlessly waving to the chair beside of him. The duke sighed to himself. This was the worst part of his job, in fact really the only part, but one that wasn't overly enjoyable nonetheless. Luckily for him, the pay kept him seated enough to at least pretend to be interested.

"All right, what is it this time?" he asked, plopping down in the chair and leaning his cheek into his palm.

The king didn't meet his gaze, flickering down towards the people passing by and sighing tiredly. "My mom."

Garrison nearly jerked back in shock, clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure. The king had nearly banned all talk of Liane from his palace since her funeral, proclaiming that their job was not to wallow in the past. "What about her?" he managed to work out smoothly.

"How did she get so much respect?" he asked, brow furrowing. "Everyone knew of her past, but our people still adored her." He grit his teeth just slightly, cheeks flushing. The entire kingdom, as well as outlying lands, knew well enough of Queen Liane's endeavors when she was merely a princess. Passing her time in the company of dukes and sailors alike, garnishing quite the taste for wine and pleasantries with men. It'd been a scandal like no other in Kupa Keep's history. But as Eric had learned, when she'd taken the throne and calmed herself down, all bad press seemed to come to a grinding halt. She became beloved almost overnight, something that Eric had not yet been born to see, but had heard well enough time and again.

Herbert blinked, clearing his throat once more and shifting in his seat. "She was kind and cared very much for the people, Eric," he said quietly.

"How did they change their opinions so quickly, though?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at a couple of children stopping and making faces up towards the castle. He growled as one particularly brave girl flipped off the walls and the group ran off giggling.

He shrugged, "She managed to calm the masses when your grandfather died."

"Calm the masses," he repeated blandly.

The duke nodded, "King Harold...did not leave Queen Mabel with much to rule," he said slowly. "Your grandmother literally couldn't handle the responsibility, so she passed it onto your mother without Liane even knowing," he rolled his eyes. "Bitch move if you ask me."

"'Ay, watch it," he warned. "Grandma-"

"Spoiled the shit out of you, I know," he scoffed. "Left you way too many jewels in my opinion."

"I wasn't asking for your opinion, I'm asking for the story!" he snapped.

Garrison waved him off and sighed. "Anyway, your grandpa was the second of the Cartmans to hold power, and didn't know how to handle it. He was already grown when your family came into the throne, so he was never trained properly. Kupa Keep had barely recovered from the Great War as it was, and he couldn't handle fiscal management or anything of the sort. We were on the brink of collapse if we're being completely honest," he shrugged. "Your family was used to things just being handed to them when you were all just marquesses and lords and whatnot," he waved dismissively.

"What does my mom have to do with that?" he rolled his eyes.

"Will ya let me get there?" he snapped. "God, Eric, ya can't just jump into the goddamn climax, let there be some buildup first! This just proves how much of a damn Cartman you are."

He narrowed his amber eyes in warning, "Watch it, Duke."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved him off. "Anyway. Your mom goes through her coronation and on the first night, there's supposed to be a grand ball for the upper class, you know," he shrugged. "You remember your own, no doubt," he said dryly and Eric smirked smugly.

Indeed he did. Filled with gold, dancing subjects, mountains of lavish food and drink piled upon tables and plates alike. It'd been a work of wonder, sitting atop the highest throne, his crown so proudly set upon his head as he watched the band playing, the maidens of the land dancing with their swooping skirts swishing so elegantly across the polished marble floor of their grand hall. It'd been a glorious night that'd lasted until sunrise and all were too drunk and full to even think of partying any longer. One to last through the ages, subjects had said.

Garrison watched him fondly reminiscing and shook his head. "Well, your mom didn't want it to be so exclusive." The brunette shook out of his memories and blinked at him in shock. "She wanted it to be a new beginning for the entire kingdom, not just herself and the royal court. So she held the ball down in town, taking expenses from her own personal vault to pay the bars and food vendors to provide for them. It was actually kind of amazing, what I can remember anyway," he snorted. "It was my first coronation party so I got pretty loaded pretty fast."

"What a shock," he rolled his eyes.

Garrison shrugged dismissively, "Anyway. She set the example that night that everyone was going to be treated fairly, regardless of their upbringing. It was something that your family desperately needed, less you be usurped from the throne like the royals before you," he hitched his brow. "She was a mess of a princess, but she was a fantastic queen. It's how she and Queen Sheila forged such a friendship."

"Blech," he stuck his tongue out in distaste. "I figured those Drow fuckers came begging for money."

"Other way around, actually," he said superiorly, watching Eric's face falling in despair. "Whenever Queen Sheila and Prince Kyle came to visit, your mother was showing Sheila around the kingdom and explaining our financial situation. The Drow Queen is actually the one who helped us get back on our feet because we were treading water for so long. She appreciates anyone who can come from a darkened background and gain such respect as your mother had, that's the only reason we haven't fallen into financial ruin."

Cartman blinked rapidly, a nausea rising in his gullet. "But those Larnion fuckers can barely make their own ends meet!"

"Because of us," he continued. "They're stable enough, they live off of the bare necessities for the most part," he reminded him. "The king and queen came to the agreement to share some of their financial profit from the Great War with us to help us rebuild, so long as we promised some of our soil, to stay out of their forest," he raised his brow, watching the king shifting uncomfortably, "and a promise to build a future together somewhere down the line."

Eric's face was twisted in disgust, looking out over his kingdom, eyes flittering across the shops he could see from his view. "We're built on dirty money," he whispered.

Garrison sighed, "No. We're built on money from potential allies. Big difference."

"Elves are not that giving, especially that Jew sect!" he spat, hopping to his feet and pacing in worried thought. "They could turn this against us."

"They didn't even mention it when you went to arrange the princess to Prince Kyle," he reminded him firmly. "Elves don't expect payback, they just expect your respect, Eric."

"What if they consider Kendra to be the payback?! What if they think I'm thanking them for this?!"

"And what if they do?" he blinked at him. "For fucks sake, Eric, you're the one who's promoting this union! You've spread word around the kingdom already! Probably faster than Kyle and Kendra are presenting themselves to Larnion!"

He stopped and glared at him, "What if they consider us handing Kendra over to make us even? And then, they decide 'well, they don't owe us now' and decide that they can wage war?!"

He put his face into his palm and sighed irritatedly. "Eric. They won't." He said firmly. He looked up at his frantic monarch and rolled his eyes, getting to his feet and putting his hands on his shoulders. "Look at me!" he snapped, waiting for those amber irises to find his own. "Look, the Larnion's do not want war. They just want to live peacefully, all right? And they're going to be far too busy getting Kendra acclimated to their race to even fucking think about waging war."

"So acclimated that they turn her against us?!" he spat. "She's still a princess of Kupa Keep, Garrison!"

"Not once her and Kyle tie the knot," he rolled his eyes. "Then she's Larnion's and only 'ours' by heritage. Are you regretting this already?" he demanded. "What you did was the right thing."

"I don't want the elves to think we're weak!" he snapped. "Giving them a figure of royalty so easily...They probably think we'll hand them anything!"

"Oh for God's sake," he murmured, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Will you please calm down?"

"Look, just...just get out," he spat exhaustedly, shoving the duke off of him.

Garrison watched him for a few moments before frowning. "Fine. Stay here and wallow in your fucking stupidity, Eric. Figures the one time you do the right fucking thing, something that your mother would have done, you fucking pull this shit." Cartman gritted his teeth, fists clenching against his sides as Garrison whirled on his heel and made way out of his room, slamming the door behind him.

The king looked back out his window and shook his head angrily. Unbelievable. No wonder his mother didn't fucking tell him where the influx of money had come from. He knew that it'd come from another land, but he didn't expect this shit.

He yelped as his arm was snared and he was wrenched from the window, tossed back into his room and landing in a tangled heap on the ground. "The fuck!" he shouted, scrambling up onto his knees and lips parting to scream for his guards before glancing up at his attacker, finding furious red eyes glaring down on him. He met the ferocity point for point as he made way back onto his feet. "The fuck do you want, Damien?" he hissed.

"The fuck are you trying to pull?!" he snapped back. "Are you trying to make our plans go to shit?!"

"I have a serious problem with the elves being more respected in my fucking kingdom than I am!" he snapped.

Damien narrowed his eyes, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

He sighed in aggravation, gesturing towards his window. "Talk of Kahl and Kinny. It's everywhere."

"As you wanted it to be," he raised his brow suspiciously.

He bit a thin lip roughly, staring down at his carpet and an angry breath seeping through his nostrils. "They're happy," he hissed. "People talking of how the elves treat everyone so fairly or some shit," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I don't get it! We're supposed to hate them!"

Damien rolled his eyes, "Only the eldest two generations hate elves, Fatboy, the rest don't fucking care."

"They seem to!" he protested. "Talking about being paid for working in the palace and all this other shit that I'm not willing to give them!"

He shrugged casually, "Word of kindness spreads slower than evil, but it spreads nonetheless. People tend to gravitate towards such things," he rolled his eyes again. Fucking humans. All the same, never wanting to settle for a medium, only wanting one of the two extremes.

"Well what do I do then?" he grit his teeth. "I'm losing favor!"

Damien sighed, "When you come into the power you desire, such things won't matter."

"I have a lot of time between then and now."

"Hm...not as much as you may think," he smirked.

Eric blinked at him, "Whaddya mean?"

He chuckled and tongued over his fangs, "Little Prince is falling just as we wished," he purred. "Kenneth's already molding him just fine."

The king looked at him skeptically, "Already?"

"Mhmm," he nodded. "Holding Kenneth's hand, defending him against his precious little ranger...He's turning into clay. He just needs watered down a bit more," he hiked his brow.

Cartman straightened up, eyes gleaming. "How?" he asked excitedly. "It's been so little time!"

"Hm, yes, well...That may be a problem in of itself," Damien said dryly, sliding over towards a chair and plopping down onto it, swinging his foot over the arm listlessly. "Seems its going both ways."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Seems our dear little Kenneth is going the same route," he relayed, watching Cartman's face falling.

He blinked, "Wait. You don't think Kinny would-"

"I don't know," he cut him off. "It's between my little prince and his sister, so I can't be sure which way he'll fall." He cracked his fingers and sighed, looking at his claws disinterestedly. "I suggest you send a note of some sort, King-boy. Remind him of his mission. Risking him wanting to protect the prince could set us back a bit. Or, at least you. I'm set no matter what," he said smugly.

The brunette narrowed his eyes, "Oh, is that so? And if I send an armada after you?"

"I use my pretty little prince as a meat shield," he replied without missing a beat.

"My people won't care if it's Kahl in their way."

"Oh? From the way you're talking...seems as though they'd sooner cut you down than one who could bring them such kindness," the Olath drawled, smirking at Cartman's angry bristling. He sighed, hopping back onto his feet and stretching, feeling his vertebrae popping and rolling his shoulders contentedly. "Either way, our joined method makes things easier on both accounts, so I'd rather your end didn't fail, Your Majesty." He watched Cartman's worried expression and sighed. "Look, just remind him of his mission and of his sister. Whether or not he falls for the little prince is moot. Don't threaten him away from that, because it could make it all the more fun," he smirked, waving off Cartman's skeptical stare. "Trust me, I can work with either side. But...if they do happen to fall for each other...My side will be so much more simple," he purred deviously.

"And if my people decide to revolt?" he demanded lowly.

Damien chuckled, "They won't. Not once things finally get set into motion."

"A lot can happen in five months," he said wearily, eyes flickering to the outside world.

"Hm, yes," he grinned devilishly, red eyes dancing with mischief. "Indeed it can."

A/N: Political turmoil oh no

Thanks for R&Ring!