The corridors had never seemed so goddamn long.

Kyle's aching eyes narrowed in the slightest, fuzzy distortions of plants crawling along the walls seeming more sinister than anything else. They looked like they wanted to eat the palace alive, wanted to engulf every precious elven heirloom, and every heir along with it. He shook his head, the backs of his wrists flying up towards his face and rubbing over his eyes. That kind of mindset was beyond ridiculous, but damn it all if he could help it. The last three days had given him a total of eight hours of sleep. He was fucking exhausted, could barely keep a thought straight if he tried. He hadn't been allowed in the library, his parents more than aware that any form of reading would ship him right into a deep sleep they'd be practically unable to rouse him from. He wasn't allowed to go outside any further than the palace garden, his immune system especially vulnerable in this waiting period.

Not to mention, as Kyle knew despite how they never mentioned it, he looked like a walking disaster of an elf. Large bags under his eyes and a frown that could barely be moved, slurred speech and dizzied walking all were not exactly the presence that the royal family should be exuding to the people. As much as Larnians prided themselves on putting character before much else, there was still a certain standard for the royals to adhere to. Kyle couldn't make his way through the city looking like a half-drunken fool. Despite knowing that every single elf would know of the true plight he was enduring, there was a matter of his pride that he had to keep an account for. He wasn't about to voluntarily become a pitiable story families spoke of around their dinner tables, not again. Not if he could help it.

He glanced to either side of him, Stan and Christophe flanking him, ready to catch him if he happened to stumble over yet again. Kyle pouted. He had never been the epitome of grace, only able to pull off the ruse when in the midst of diplomatic tension outweighing his gangly nature. In his youth, his mother had gone so far as to use the old ridiculously tired trick of making him walk with books atop his head, trying desperately to impose some form of poise onto her eldest son. It'd taken months of walking everywhere as such before he could finally stride across a room with his back straight and his robes gliding behind him like the smooth tail of a comet. But even then, he shed such a gait if he could avoid it, much more comfortable with letting his tensions fall behind him as he walked, not looking as though they were all shoved in beside his spine to keep him up and rigid. But here, he had no choice, even his mother disregarding her usual tutting at him for not carrying the air of a king at all times. They all knew how he would struggle to do so much as turn his head in these bouts, something so trivial as his posture could wait until his spell had passed and he was back on the upswing.

"Your 'ighness, are you ok?" Christophe asked, looking down at the stumbling elf with a cocked brow. "Per'aps you should seet."

Kyle made a small groaning noise and waved off the notion. "No. No sitting. I'll fucking fall asleep if I'm not moving or talking or something."

Stan smirked, "Well you could talk to us."

"You two are boring," he drawled, beyond the point of politely dancing around the truth with pretty, misleading words. "Half your dialogue is you telling him the proper way to jump in front of an arrow for me," he jerked his thumb towards Christophe.

"'e 'as eenformed me zat ze best theeng to do ees take eet zrough ze arm. So you 'ave time to run and I weell be able to defend you longer."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "For God's sake, Stan."

His ranger shrugged, "My prince, that's training that all guards are taught."

"Ugh," he groaned, rubbing his temple. "Speaking of, is Craig getting special training from Murphy or not?"

"Whaddya mean?" he blinked.

Kyle glanced up at him, rubbing at a near-leaking eye. "For Kendra. Is he getting more training for Larnion protocol or just sticking as he is?"

Stan cleared his throat, "There's a different guard undergoing training for her protection right now. Craig will only assist."

Kyle stopped in his tracks, the two of them stumbling to stay at his side as Kyle stared up at Stan. "What are you talking about? Craig's her guard. Her human guard. If she has a second one, it should be the elf who's the assistant unless Craig feels otherwise."

He winced, "I-I don't think Craig would care either way…"

"Well I do," he declared. "God, Stan, she's far away from enough of her culture. Why not just get the paladin trained as her second guard? She's already surrounded enough by us elves; it wouldn't be the end of the world to give her some human companionship."

Christophe snorted, Kyle whipping his head around and staring at him questionably. He shrugged, "I am sorry, Your 'ighness. But… ze paladeen? Ze princess would be safer weez a rock as 'er guard zen zat fool."

"Hey," he pointed up at him sternly. "Listen. Butters is… dumb," he said slowly, not having the mental capacity to skip around the blatant truth. "But he cares about the princess' safety. That's what he's supposed to do." He ran a hand up through his hair and sighed, "Look, I'll talk to Kendra about it, see how she feels."

Stan frowned, "Why does it matter how she feels? Royal safety isn't your job, my prince, it's ours," he gestured between himself and Christophe."

"Haven't you listened to my mother?" he drawled. "Keeping Kendra comfortable here is my job, and if that means our duties cross paths then you're just going to have to deal with it. I'll talk to her, and take whatever she feels up with Murphy."

"I really don't believe that's your pla-"

"Keep in mind, Stanley," he scolded, "that were it not for me having say in the happenings of the guard, you would probably be working the stables and not breathing down my neck. So please do not question me. I am way too fucking tired to goddamn argue with you." Stan slowly closed his mouth and nodded, the guards picking back up pace as Kyle did. He wasn't wrong. The fact that a human had been permitted into the guard, much less one of the guards for the royal body, was a feat in of itself. Kyle had played part in his, Token's, and Clyde's positions, not willing to let them be reduced to nothing more than stable hands kept out of the public's eye.

Kyle stumbled a bit, Stan and Christophe automatically catching under his arms and straightening him back up. He sighed, muttering his thanks and a light blush spreading across his cheeks. He hated this. Hated seeming so fucking weak and vulnerable. Kyle wasn't stupid, knew that it couldn't be helped. Didn't make it any less humiliating, though.

He glanced to the large, leaf-adorned door down the way and twisted his lips a bit, making his way towards it. Stan and Christophe kept their eyes half-focused on him, Kyle feeling their piercing wariness with vigor and trying to ignore it. He stepped up to an at-attention guard outside the door and smiled softly at him, the guard bowing. "Your Highness," he greeted.

"They in a meeting or…?"

He shook his head, "Not to my knowledge, Your Highness."

"Thank you," he nodded, moving forward and pushing the door open with some effort before the guard could get to it, the men shaking their heads at Kyle's insistence of taking care of himself as he struggled his way through. Kyle looked up to find three faces looking his way, blinking at Kendra sitting with his parents and waving at him excitedly.

"Kyle!" Sheila greeted. "Bubbie, how are you?"

"Dying," he muttered, finally sliding through the threshold with Stan and Christophe in tow. He raised his hand to his mouth to conceal a long yawn as he made way towards the group off to a side conference table below a massive detailed map of their city. "What's goin' on?"

Sheila smile a bit, turning to Kendra. "Honey, why don't you head off with some of the maidens and they'll help you get started?" She waved to a servant standing along the side of the room who stepped up with a curtsey.

Kendra smiled back and nodded, smoothly sliding up onto her feet. She patted Kyle's cheek dotingly, shooting him a wink before slipping around the group and heading off to follow the servant's lead with Craig on their tail. The remainder watched after them for a bit before Kyle turned back around and raised his brow at his mother. "Started with what?"

"Oh, Kyle, it's wonderful," she gushed, gesturing for him to sit down. He hesitated before moving into the chair, waving Stan and Christophe back against the wall with his parents' own guards. He watched longingly as his mother poured him a large cup of cinnamon-soaked coffee, sliding it over to him with a pint of cream and a jar of sugar. "Kendra had an excellent idea," she continued.

"Oh?" he mixed his drink, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs as he watched their happy faces suspiciously. He took a long sip of his brew and savored the spark it lit within him at once. Kyle smacked his lips a bit, "What was her idea?"

Gerald grinned, taking a sip of his own drink. "You know her dresses she brought from Kupa Keep?"

"Those gaudy monstrosities? Yes," he scoffed.

His parents shared a look and a bit of a laugh, "That's exactly what she called them," Sheila smirked, Kyle blushing in the slightest and hiding behind the lip of his mug.

"She asked us for help with them," Gerald continued, Kyle looking up at him questioningly. He shrugged, "She wants to sell most of them to human lands, use the money for some extra to have in the treasury for travelers."

"She wants a Larnion-made wardrobe!" Sheila said, clapping her hands a bit. "Isn't that wonderful?"

Kyle took long blinks, looking between the creamy coffee and his parents. He couldn't help but wonder if he was just too tired to comprehend reality, if he'd been making conversation with a goddamn tree this entire time. "I… W-wow," he managed to stammer out. He wasn't sure why it surprised him so much, if it was merely the exhaustion or maybe some deep-seated bias he still held despite getting along so well with the princess. Or maybe it was both. He certainly couldn't tell in the state he was in. But he very distinctly remembered telling her of their money customs on the first day they'd met. The day she'd been thrown into an entirely new world and things would have no doubt been overwhelming for her. But she remembered, remembered such a tiny detail that he'd told her about. A small, subtle smile crawled up his lips. "That's… great," he said earnestly. "Fantastic, actually. And that was her idea?"

Sheila nodded, "Yes, she requested to see us and had papers written to propose and everything," she waved to a small stack of parchment on the end of the table. The queen leaned back a bit, watching the grin playing on Kyle's face and brimming with glee. She was eating every bit of this up, every single moment. "She's certainly growing accustomed to our ways, isn't she?" she prodded.

Kyle nodded softly, "She is. It's… almost unnerving," he laughed a bit nervously.

Gerald leaned back and cocked his head, "Whaddya mean, Kyle?"

He cleared his throat, "I mean… I don't know, I never expected her to do anything but just kind of… uh…" he narrowed his eyes, fighting for a coherent sentence.

Sheila smiled sympathetically at her son, watching the turmoil raging over his face. "Expected her to sit there as nothing more than an outside figurehead?"

"Yeah. That," he nodded, taking another long sip of his drink. "I mean… I'd only heard her name before she got here, never anything she ya know… did."

"She's been a very quiet power," Sheila explained with a subtle shrug. "Most of her work involved helping divvy funds to divide amongst the poorer citizens of Kupa Keep."

Kyle cocked his brow, leaning back and letting the notion stew over him. "What kinda divvying did she do?"

"From what Queen Liane told us, she was very involved in making sure money went to making jobs for the lower class," Gerald said. "She apparently just kept charge of running banquets and securing cheaper food so their people wouldn't go hungry."

"Huh," he said with a small nod. "Well I mean… we're not doin' so hot ourselves with money. Think she could give some input on that?"

Sheila grinned wider, watching her son's weary wheels turning with a deep, ringing pride. "Well, Bubbie, that's something you should discuss with her first. You know better than she would what methods would stick with Larnians."

He gave a weak smile, "I don't think I should be discussing anything political right now. I'm likely to start a war I'm so out of it."

Their faces both fell, taking long breaths as they watched their always-headstrong child struggling so much with just lifting his cup. "Well no one said right now, Kyle," Gerald said gently. "Wait until this bout passes and you're back to feeling like yourself."

Kyle sighed, tapping his index finger steadily against the ceramic in his hands looking between them both with drooping eyes. These last few days of exhaustion had left an ever-present question ringing through him, as it always did. However, now there was a new element added to the quandary, he just wasn't sure how to interpret how it would possibly play out in his inevitable future. "Do you think she can rule by herself?" he asked quietly.

Sheila's eyes widened in slight horror at the implication hidden in his words, "What? What do you mean? Bubbeleh, you're going to be king, she won't have the throne on her own."

He winced, "Maybe not initially, no. But if I'm down and out for a week twice a year, she'd be completely in charge in that timeframe. And… and we don't know what this shit'll do to me when I'm older…"

"Language," Gerald half-heartedly reprimanded. "Kyle, you're right, we don't know what it'll do. But maybe it'll go away as you age," he winced.

Sheila shuddered to herself out of Kyle's redirected line of sight before straightening back up into her practiced, rigid stance. "Well, Kyle, ask yourself," she pushed. "Do you think she could handle Larnion on her own should that be the case?"

Kyle looked at her and gave a small, tired shrug. "I don't know. I've never seen her truly participating in something diplomatic. Being a nice person can only get someone so far on the throne… right?"

"It's the most important part of being on the throne," she reminded him. "Being a kind person means imparting fairness onto all matters. You've said yourself she's very kind, it'll take her far with our people."

Kyle nodded a bit, looking back down into his cup and sighing. "Yeah. I guess."

Sheila frowned, "Kyle. Do you truly believe we would have set you up with her if we didn't believe she could hold her own?"

"You'd never even met her," he reminded her with a slight drawl.

"No, but Queen Liane was never one to lie about her beliefs in someone's political prowess," Gerald said.

He rolled his eyes, "I don't know about that one. Look at her lardass of a son."

"Kyle, remember he is king," Sheila emphasized, brow raising in warning.

"A king who's driving his land's economy straight into the ground with his lavish spending," he scoffed. "Besides, he won't give me any ounce of respect now or once I'm in the same standing as he is, why the fuck should I waste the energy feigning anything instead of just allowing my disdain?"

Sheila sighed, rubbing her temple and shaking her head. He was her son all right, beyond opinionated and often not afraid to show it. At least he knew to keep it within closed doors, to not risk turmoil sparking from ill-placed words of distaste. "King Eric is young," she reminded him. "He'll come into his own."

Kyle sneered, "That's no excuse. Let's say for a moment that I was in his situation. You'd be looking down at me screaming your head off if I was acting so irresponsible with my power and hateful towards another land so outwardly."

"He did give us Kendra," Gerald reminded him.

"Yes. And that makes me more suspicious," he narrowed his eyes, putting his emptied cup down onto the table with a loud bang. "She was working on helping the unfortunate, the group he despises most within his own culture. The majority. She could've helped keep them appeased and staved off the inevitable revolt and mutiny. Why would he just hand us an asset like Kendra when he clearly needs the assistance? And when he hates us, me in particular, so fucking much?"

Sheila frowned a bit. He certainly wasn't completely off his rocker with such an inquiry. She'd found herself wondering the same thing that first night that Kendra had been brought to their home. "Perhaps he believed an alliance would strengthen his people's faith in his rule," she reasoned.

He cocked his brow, "Really? You really think that? Can you imagine how the humans are reacting to this right now? I guarantee Kupa Keep is full of hearsay about how we're torturing and experimenting on Kendra with our 'witch powers'," he wriggled his fingers a bit. "The poor innocent princess being held hostage by the big bad elves. And if she proclaims to them that we're not so bad, they'll call it mind manipulation or something of the sort. Humans are hateful creatures," he said darkly.

Sheila's frown turned heavier, shaking her head at her son. "You believe Kendra to be hateful?"

Kyle paused, a subtle blush sweeping over his cheeks. "Well… no. But she's an exception."

"You think there's only one exception in all of humankind to your racist mindset?"

He blinked at her, "I'm not being racist, I'm being factual!"

She crossed her arms, "Kyle. You have a very limited knowledge of the human's culture and lifestyle. You know only of diplomatic happenings and stories from the War. And elves were not very kind in that conflict either, may I remind you. The only person on either side allowed to make any kind of judgement like that is Kendra. She's the only being who's lived through both sides and can remember both clearly. Do you understand me?"

He sunk a bit and scratched through his hair. "They kill elves, though."

"You think elves never killed humans?" Gerald raised his brow. "Kyle, before your mother and I took the throne, my parents were beyond hateful of humans. Any spotted near our lands were killed without question. Our mercy is a very new thing. You've just been raised around it so it doesn't seem that way."

"We didn't want to continue being so horrible and hateful like our parents," Sheila continued somberly. "Each generation has the obligation to improve on the past one's behavior. We're merciful, so you need to learn to be compassionate. It's the only reasonable next step."

"I'd say making me marry one kind of takes it a few steps beyond just the next one," he scoffed. "You threw me a few fucking miles away from where you are."

"And yet, look how well you're adjusting," she reminded him with a small grin quirking on her lips again. "There will always be more humans like Kendra than like King Eric. Just as there will always be more elves like you than like the Olath. Words of evil spread faster and stronger than words of kindness. Always remember that." She paused, looking as Kyle's shoulders slumped, his fingers sheepishly scratching at his arm and his eyes falling to the ground. The echoes of guilt rang across his exhausted face and she couldn't help an inward beaming. Kyle was headstrong without a doubt, but the notion of he himself being what he so hated always brought him back to where he was supposed to be. It grounded him, made him more determined to be a better person. It had ever since he was a child. "Bubbie," she continued, waiting for Kyle to look back at her with remorse-laced green eyes, "It's hard," she sympathized. "I know it is. And I know you were thrown into this without warning."

"That's an understatement," he muttered, flinching as she lightly smacked his knee.

"But do you really think being with her is so awful?" she pressed.

Kyle opened his mouth a bit, eyes flickering to Stan leaning against the wall, very purposefully diverting his attention towards the windows on either side of the thrones. Kyle's heart sank, seeing the subtle quiver of Stan's strong jaw and he ducked his head down with a sigh. "I don't know," he whispered. "Everything's changing… I wasn't ready for it."

"Yes, you were," she corrected. "If you weren't, you would have tried running off. You would have fought much harder against it than you did. You wouldn't be making the effort to make this work."

He rolled his eyes, "You didn't exactly give me a choice, Ma."

She smirked, "No. But, if you were given a choice, we'd probably still be having this conversation."

Kyle paused, looking from her to Stan again and slumping, giving a tiny nod. "Probably," he muttered. "I just… I don't know how it's going to work," he said. "If she could talk, it'd be so much simpler. Maybe for a princess, it's a charming thing. But as a queen, I feel like that could easily incite a declaration that we're incompetent as a monarchy," he winced.

Sheila nodded softly, "It'll be hard. But you two are already communicating well, you'll only get better with time, Bubbie. Just be patient with her. She's being patient with you."

He narrowed his eyes a bit, "Whaddya mean?"

She chuckled, waving him off. "Nevermind, Sweetie." She watched him trying and failing to stifle a yawn, swaying a bit on his chair. "Why don't you go back and walk around a bit?" she suggested. "Within the next hour we'll find someone to send for you and let you get some rest."

He nodded, rubbing at his heavy lids and getting back to his feet. He glanced over, seeing Stan and Christophe already up and at attention waiting for him and rolled his eyes. "Sooner I can sleep the better," he mumbled, turning on his heel and walking up between his guards, leading them on the way out of the throne room with a small goodbye wave to his parents.

They watched after him until the heavy door shut behind Stan and Christophe, finally looking at each other with tired, proud smiles. "He's handling this much better than I thought he would," Gerald commented.

Sheila grinned, picking up her coffee and taking a long sip. "I told you he'd find her suitable. You know how he is. You just have to let him get there on his own."

He nodded, pulling over the stack of papers Kendra had handed them, eyes lazily lingering over a few lines of her delicately etched script. "Hopefully he doesn't take too long with what concerns Kendra."

She hummed, "I don't think it's concerning. I think she finds it endearing more than anything."

Gerald cocked his head, face scrunching a bit in skepticism of the claim as he read over a set of lines. 'I would have asked Prince Kyle for his opinion on the matter, but he seems to have a bit of a problem with giving me an opinion that could seem like he's asserting his beliefs hold more weight than my own. I'm aware he never means it like that, but he's very timid, at least when it comes to matters of Kupa Keep. Perhaps it's merely a fear of possibly insulting me, I'm not quite sure, but I'm very careful to not mention what life previously was for myself around him, for fear of him following my lead and going mute.'

"You really think so?" Gerald questioned his wife. "I've never known Kyle to be… 'timid'," he quoted. "I don't think that boy's feared anything but you punishing him for getting out of line," he laughed.

She joined him and shrugged, "He doesn't want to hurt her feelings, he still doesn't know how to approach their differences. Nothing wrong with that."

He hummed, "Well, considering they only have five months left before they're married, I don't think he should be so unsure."

She rolled her eyes a bit, taking another small sip. "When have you ever known him to keep his opinions to himself regarding the humans? Or step carefully around someone's feelings?" Gerald stared at her a bit, blinking slowly and she smirked. "Exactly. Learn to read your son, Gerald. This is going much smoother than we thought it would."

He shifted back in his chair, tapping his foot a bit. "You sure it's not just because she's a lady? Or because he doesn't want to risk upsetting you?"

"Remember how he treated Princess Bebe?" she reminded him. "He was very blunt about how her lands were being foolish with their spending. Didn't hesitate to tell her it was her allowance on parties that was aiding their deficit more than anything."

Gerald shrugged, "But they're friends."

"Well yes, now," she drawled. "They weren't when Kyle launched into his tirade against her. You know how he is; he'll step carefully around us, Ike, and Stanley. That's it. Only people he cares for," she emphasized. She paused, gazing into her cup and smiling, "And judging by the way they looked at each other as she was leaving, I don't think it's merely a matter of respect."

He looked between her and the door, "Whaddya mean? What'd they do?"

She sighed, "Oh, Gerald." He just continued staring at her, Sheila chuckling to herself. She'd easily caught how their eyes had softened, how her very private son had allowed her to touch his face without the slightest of a flinch. Not to mention the look of fondness and pride that Kyle exuded upon hearing of Kendra's intentions. It was a marvel, something she'd never seen from him in all his eighteen years. Perhaps Gerald couldn't see it; he wasn't expecting anything more than a monarchal union built on the principle of royal ties alone. But Sheila, she could see more. That second day of Kendra's being within their walls, seeing that passing comment of Kyle's blushing at her presence, more than told an observant mother all she needed to know. She'd just been waiting, waiting for that chance to sleep comfortably at night knowing that no matter how he tried to hide it, Kyle was comfortable, if not happy with the arrangements made in his name. Today in his tired state, he'd shown more than he probably ever intended to, and it sent Sheila's worrisome, guilted nature for forcing him into a marriage down into a calmed tranquility.

She knew she'd made the right choice, and Kyle, whether he chose to believe it or not as of now, agreed.