This part was always the hardest.

When the pain really set in, when he could comprehend just what muscles he'd strained, how hoarse his throat was, how many bruises he'd garnered from being wrestled back down onto his bed. Kyle was in no hurry to come back into the waking world as the bittersweet echoes of consciousness finally shuffled within his reach. No, he just wanted to stay where he was right before here, where he couldn't quite recognize the light weight of his quilt and the plushness of his mattress underneath his aching back. He could feel his arms and legs tingling from their lack of use, his neck locked with a cruel crick.

His chest heaved with a shaking breath, forcing a dry gulp to roll down his throat, trying to reinvigorate his salivary glands to lessen at least the barest of his struggles. A quiet whimper left him before he could stop it, trying to move but only managing his head falling limply to its side on his pillow. A foreign sensation became apparent as nerves flooded back into use, brows furrowing at the feeling of light pressure in his hand, slid between the webbing of his fingers. He groaned under his breath, a shudder racking through him.

He needed to get up. Needed to face this. Quicker he did, the quicker it would go away, his weary brain reminded him. Kyle allowed himself once more to take a preparatory breath, feeling his lungs expand and contracting with approval.

With great struggle, he creaked open his eyes, graced by the scraggly vision of thick lashes before a beam of sunlight smashed against his retinas and forced him back into hiding. He hated when he woke up in the daytime, it was always so much goddamn harder to cope with. Another breath, another attempt. His nose scrunched with effort, brow knitted with concentration as he pried his lids up just enough for light to sneak back through, forcing himself to remain in its touch for adjustment.

A good ten seconds of keeping himself stasis granted him self-given permission for a recovery blink before opening back just a bit wider. The world was coming back into his view, seeing blurred outlines of a multitude of items at his bedside. God, he just wanted it back. Just wanted to spring up out of his bed feeling refreshed and greet the day with an utter thankfulness.

Instead, he was here, slowly wallowing through more misery before he could so much as consider lifting an arm. It wasn't fair, forever trapped by this ridiculous pattern of his. There was no celebrating when he woke up, at least, not on his part. The kingdom would be more than pleased, and he would be showered in nothing but 'oh thank the gods' and hugs for a week at the very least. But he couldn't come back with a smile, he'd come back with legs that hardly functioned and a starved body that even he couldn't believe kept him upright.

Another blink and a little more into the light. He forced down a determined breath, prying his lids up until fully opened. It burned, it ached, but it was nothing compared to how the rest of his body seemed to be faring. 'How long was I out this time?' he wondered. He felt worse than he usually did when he woke up, like his muscles had atrophied a tad more and his aching shoulders seemed more pronounced.

A quick succession of allowing his lashes to flutter back into life rewarded him with a clearer picture, seeing the mostly recognizable outlines of his left-hand nightstand. He narrowed his eyes in confusion, seeing what seemed to be books piled atop it. He knew he didn't leave them there, and Stan rarely read one thing when he was out, let alone an entire archive. Squinting, he could make out the vague spellings of 'Drow Land Routes' and 'Elven Translations' rested atop the pile.

'Why would Stan need a translation?' he wondered in utter bewilderment. Nearly jerking at the sensation, he felt the pressure on his hand moving, something stroking the back of his knuckles.

He took a long, heavy breath, allowing himself one more blink before shifting his head to look down at what was keeping a hold of him. His head almost spun at the unexpected sight of blonde hair swept into a disheveled braid. A face was worn with worry and exhaustion, but locked down on a book, trying to keep awake in the silence of his bedroom. Kyle gulped, fighting to convince himself that yes, he was seeing this. That it wasn't Stan diligently at his bedside upon his awakening, but the newcomer that he had never wanted to see him in this awful condition. He supposed it didn't matter at this point, just looking at her own tired face, he could assume she'd been around him for a good while, had seen him go through some of his more troubling circumstances as members of the palace had called them.

Kyle just stared, lost in another haze, unbelieving that Kendra was keeping so close to him as she flipped through her book, never letting her touch waver from his hand. He didn't know how to react to this. If he should be embarrassed or grateful. He was both, he decided. But humiliation seemed a far-off notion with how groggy he felt, it could be saved for a later time.

With forced exertion, he dropped his mouth to speak, jaw trembling with the strain. "…Kendra?" he finally fought out, coughing quietly as the last syllable lingered a bit too strongly on his throat.

Kendra's head shot up and pivoted towards him, eyes brightening at once at the sight of confused, tired green looking back at her for an explanation. She practically threw down her book, twisting in her chair and immediately moving to place her forehead down against Kyle's. He let out a quiet grunt at her arm coming to wrap around his chest and shoulder and tug him closer, face heating as she nestled down against his head. He wasn't nearly conscious enough for this. He opted to not give into the embarrassment, instead just simmering into her hold, just grateful to be awake to know the touch of another being once more.

His head fell limply against hers, and his lips curled subtly at that homey scent coming right back to him. He needed this. Needed someone with him, needed to come back into the world to familiarity, to comfort.

"Your Highness?" a timid, scratchy voice broke between them. Kendra lifted with a sigh, annoyed at the immediate interruption, but helping turn Kyle's head to see Stan on the opposite side of the bed, the ranger looking at him with teary eyes.

Kyle couldn't help but smile softly at him, eyes drooping with grogginess. That same damn look. Stan never wavered from routine. "Stop… bein' a pussy," he breathed out, feeling Kendra letting out a gentle, shaking laugh around him.

Stan let out a long, tremoring breath of relief. "How do you feel?"

"Like hell," he answered honestly. "Sort of."

Kendra cocked her head down at him and he shrugged. "Just sorer than usual… but I-I can think at least. I usually can't for… a few days after t-this stuff," he laughed humorlessly.

Stan sighed to himself. She'd changed the entire damn game. "Princess," he spoke, getting Kendra's eyes back on him. "I can fill him in on what happened. Why don't you go… freshen up and then come back up here? We can send for food and you can eat up here with him."

She blinked, both locked in a stare of bewilderment, but understanding. They'd both spent the last few days trekking through Hell with one another, arguing semantics of who stood where were the furthest thing from their mind. They were both just too damn grateful to have their mutual party back up and talking to them. Kendra looked down at Kyle still wrapped in her hold and he gave her a small shrug, "I'm fine," he promised.

She shook her head. He was lying out of his ass, but she was nothing more than a bystander here. She couldn't exactly force him to read an essay on what he'd put her through. Not yet at least. She nodded softly, leaning down and tugging her scarf enough to plant her lips firmly against Kyle's forehead, making sure to linger long enough to hear the slight churning of Stan's stomach. Replacing her scarf, she moved back up, smirking at Kyle's blush and petting his tousled hair before getting to her feet and nodding to Stan.

Kyle watched after her as she genially made her way towards and down his stairwell with calculated precision, blinking. He must be worse off than he initially assessed, he thought he'd felt the telltale pinprick of stubble brushing against his head with her touch.

He shook himself as she went out of sight, looking back up to find Stan looking caught between utterly brokenhearted and relieved. It was a common expression after these bouts. "Help me," he whispered, rolling his eyes at Stan diving beside of him in frantic panic.

"With what? What's wrong? What hurts, Kyle, what can I do?!" he rambled.

Kyle shook his head. "Help me sit up," he ordered.

"…Are you sure you want-"

"Stan f-for the love of God, s-sit me up!" he snapped, falling into an immediate coughing fit with the vocal strain. Stan groaned to himself. So goddamn stubborn. He sat next to him, sliding a strong arm underneath his back and helping lift him upright, genially scooching him to rest against his headboard. Kyle practically flopped against it, panting and struggling to look back at his timid ranger. He granted him a small smile. "Dude. You've seen worse," he reminded him.

Stan sighed, eyes burning but refusing to rub at them for fear of missing Kyle lurching with pain and needing his assistance. "Doesn't make it easier, Ky," he whispered.

Kyle's shoulders slumped in culpability. He knew how hard these bouts hit Stan, how he would usually find himself ill in the days to follow from running himself ragged keeping his eye on him. He gulped, a weak arm strained with atrophy and bruises working its way slowly to land atop Stan's own shaking appendage. "I'm okay," he promised him, voice nothing short of a lullaby to his ranger's ringing ears. Stan looked down at their hands, turning his own over and gripping his palm, squeezing with the geniality one would show a newborn. The protruding bones of Kyle's knuckles and wrist worried him. They always so starkly stood under ashen skin, but it was so much more prominent in these times. Kyle followed his sight, wincing at a fuzzy vision of red still pressed into his wrists. "Got th-that bad again… huh?"

Stan sighed through his nose, nodding softly and stroking his thumb along the side of Kyle's index finger. "Yeah. You were really fighting that first time. Took a few of us to get you down."

"And you say… I can't defend m-myself," he teased breathlessly, small grin fading as heartbroken blue eyes finally found their way back to his weary stare. "Stan? W-was something d-different?" he whispered, reading so much more in that familiar face than he was used to. More exhaustion, more pain, more fear.

He bit his lip, fighting with himself over the right thing to do. "You were out… for nine days," he murmured.

Kyle's face fell, blinking rapidly. He'd never been out from these bouts for so long. Not since his first fall. Six had so far been his maximum, and no one planned for more than that to be had anymore. Kyle wondered if he'd unintentionally thrown the palace into a full-fledged frenzy. The implications were of numerous possibilities, each more staggering than the last. "Was it… Did I…" he couldn't find the words, still too worn and now too overwhelmed to figure out something so menial as coherent sentence structures.

"The first few days, you were as bad as usual," Stan shrugged. "A little worse, actually. You had a few fits closer together than you usually do. Caught me off-guard a few times. But then…" he hesitated, wondering how far he should delve into explanations. "A few days later, you stopped having any. You didn't seem to be in… as much pain as usual," he winced. "You stayed pretty much fully asleep from the third day until now. Only a few times waking up and just kind of… mumbling," he scratched through his hair with his free hand. What Kyle had said was complete gibberish in those days, his and Kendra's names occasionally popping through the cracks and Kendra confusedly wondering if he was spouting off another round of Elvish until Craig confirmed what Stan had told her, that he was nothing but nonsensical.

Kyle's face twisted, looking down at their hands and brow furrowing. He seemed so much sorer than usual, but apparently, something had been different. Something had kept him planted down and nothing but unconscious. "Why… why do y-you think that is?" he asked, looking up again at his best friend, praying for an answer he'd like to hear. All he could conclude on his own was a morbid 'you're getting weaker. It's eating you from the inside-out. You're creeping closer to the end than you realize.'

Stan gulped, squeezing his hand again. How much he wanted to reveal, he still hadn't the slightest idea. He just wanted this to be a normal wake-up, where Kyle would take a little longer to find his words but he wouldn't look so defeated and scared. He wanted Kyle to have woken up to him, recognized him before all else…

His lips pursed tightly, disappointed in himself. That was selfish. Far far too selfish of a thought to have for the prince he so desperately cared for. His mind kicking back so quickly had to be a good thing. It just had to be. It meant his Kyle was still the dominant presence, not this power that was so bitterly trying to consume him. And Kendra was bringing that out, whether he admitted to it or not.

"I don't know," he lied, the words slipping through his lips before he could stop them, heart sinking for betraying his conscious. "What… what's important is you're up and thinking. That must mean something good, right?"

"I was… out for so m-much longer though," he mumbled, a tremor roaring down his spine. He didn't know what this meant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it was a one-off, maybe it meant he was stronger, or weaker. He just didn't know. Kyle sighed. He supposed, for now, it didn't matter. If Gollum felt something so sinister was on his horizon, she'd be sure to let him know and take the proper precautions. For now, it was nothing more than a waiting game, only able to hope that he'd be walking out of it with the full deck. "Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

"Same as always," Stan offered him a weak smile, lips still twitching to go back into their anxious, fallen state that had been so permanent the last week and a half. "Just… glad you're up."

"You a-and me both," he snorted. "Why was Kendra up here?"

An ache rang through Stan's chest that he forced down. It was a reasonable question. And Kyle had asked as to his wellbeing first, so he at least had that on his side. "She was insistent," he told him. "Forced herself up here."

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "Forced herself? Why would s-she need to do th-that?" he coughed, rubbing at his eye with the hand not still locked in Stan's worrisome grip.

"We didn't want her up here," he murmured, looking back at the frail fingers he held. "Didn't know if she could compromise your health further. But… she barged in a few days after you went down." he shrugged, trying to keep an expression of displeasure from ravaging his face.

He blinked slowly, trying to follow along with his implications. His immunity be damned, why was she kept out? He knew well enough there were more than a handful of palace workers that cared for him when he had his spells, and he doubted any of them were scrutinized so heavily…

He frowned. Why was he even questioning it? He knew the answer well enough: Stan, Ike, Token, and Clyde were the only humans that'd been permitted to see him as he was. Any healthy elf with the proper permissions could see him to aid the healing process as they pleased. Seemed they tried to blacklist his damn fiancée of all people. "Next time," he croaked, getting Stan's attention back on him, "there's to be no q-question as to whether or not she's allowed up h-here. Unless ya know… s-she's sick or somethin'…" he trailed off, slumping exhaustedly. How he could be so tired with nine days of nothing but sleep, he would never understand.

Stan sealed his lips tightly, forcing down a round of vigorous rebuttals against the order. Mattered little and he damn well knew it. Kyle made those calls, only his parents or Gollum could officially override them. "Yes, My Prince."

"Oh Lord, d-don't start that," he rolled his eyes. "Just get me clothes and help me g-get dressed," he said, struggling to worm himself from out under his quilt.

"Kyle," he winced, "maybe you should-"

"Stanley, get me out of this bed," he ordered, voice gaining vibrato as he neared the end of his patience. He was too tired for this. Stan had played doting caretaker since he started working his way towards his fall, he couldn't goddamn deal with it right now. He needed food, he needed to move.

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly and nodding. "All right, give me a second." He allowed himself one more squeeze of Kyle's palm before unwillingly taking his hand back, getting to his feet and making way to the wardrobe.

Kyle grunted, managing at last to free his bared legs from the confines of his sheets, wincing at the thinness of his calves. "God," he muttered, fighting to bend his knees and bring his hands to rest on the withered muscle of his right leg, shaking his head. "I look like an elder," he mumbled in misery.

Stan looked at him from digging through Kyle's shirts, shoulders falling. "Ky, no you don't. You'll be back to normal soon enough."

"No, it's n-never soon enough," he replied, tongue laced with bitterness. Weak fingers pressed against the skin, feeling it tingle with the touch. He didn't want to do this. This was going to hurt. But it was so damn necessary. A deep breath swelled through his chest, exhaling as he went to twist his body, toes pointing down to plant on the floor. "Okay," he murmured under his breath, face scrunching with pain as he made way to stand and yelping as his knees immediately buckled and sent him down onto the floor. "FUCK!" he yelled, beating his fist against the polished wood.

Stan was back at his side immediately, pulling him back up to sit on the bed, ignoring Kyle's furious squirming all the while. "Kyle, give yourself a few minutes," he lectured. "You can't just go running off right now." Kyle's face fell into a pitiable pout, eyes locked on the floor in shame.

He didn't know what to do if this continued into his age of reign. He couldn't exactly promote the image of an impenetrable monarchy if he couldn't goddamn walk. Sickly sovereigns were never of substantial use to their people if history remained tried and true. Whether through mutiny or just the notion of having an inability to perform their duties, they were seen as an inconvenience to their kingdoms, considered feeble and helpless when they were supposed to strut out with their heads held high, too strong for the common man to believe they could take down. 'Guess Kendra has to take over that part when it gets like this,' he thought miserably.

"All right, let's get you dressed," Stan suggested, heart lurching at the dismay spelled on his prince's face. "C'mon," he urged, snagging a pair of pants he'd tossed onto his bed in his hurry and beginning to help him maneuver his legs to slip them on under his nightshirt. Kyle blankly went through the motions with him, save for the occasional grunt as Stan threw his arm over his broad shoulders. "Need to stand you up," he said, Kyle nodding, teeth gritting as Stan lifted him up onto his feet, legs trying again to falter. "Just hold onto me," Stan encouraged, Kyle keeping as tight a grip on his shoulder as he could manage. They both struggled to pull the clinging fabric up his sweated legs, cursing Larnion royal dress code the whole way through. Kyle always wanted what their people lightheartedly called 'peasant pants'. Loose and easy enough for the hard laborer to slip on with ease if one had overslept. But no, he was confined to these damn contouring clothes that accentuated just how much mass he'd lost.

He hissed as Stan lightly guided him to stand in front of him, lifting his nightshirt to help keep it from getting stuck in his pants, rough fingers brushing over Kyle's ass and making him shudder with what seemed to be such a foreign touch in his weary state. A loud sound from the stairwell made them shoot their heads around, seeing Kendra with wetted hair tripped over herself atop the landing staring at them from the floor blatantly. Stan immediately shoved Kyle aside onto the bed with a yelp and covered him with his fresh shirt, glaring at the unwelcomed visitor. "Your Highness, maybe next time you knock?!" he stressed.

Kendra blinked, realizing just what had happened and waving her hands frantically in apology, struggling to swivel herself up and turn herself around to stare down the steps, planting her burning face into her hand and shaking her head. Whoops. Definitely not intentional. Not regretted in the slightest, but not intentional.

Kyle stared up at his ceiling, silent and cringing. He was not awake enough for this level of embarrassment. 'Please tell me I'm still sick and stuck in a goddamn coma dream, or at least that she didn't fucking see anything,' he prayed.

Stan turned from his glare at Kendra's back to his humiliated prince and sighed, wordlessly hoisting him back up to quickly finish what had been started. Dark eyes flickered between the princess and his work, not trusting her to not turn around and take herself another goddamn peek. "There," he muttered as Kyle's pants were securely in place, looking at Kyle still staring at the floor in discomfiture. He leaned towards his ear, "Want me to get her out of here?" he whispered.

"No," Kyle finally answered, shaking his head. "I-I just want food."

Stan frowned, "Ky, I can go get you-"

"I want out of this r-room, Stanley," he bit, shaking with the clash of tiring emotions piling on top of him. "Please."

"Okay, okay," he assured him, looking over at Kendra as his peripheral caught her hand waving wildly. He glanced down at Kyle who shrugged.

"You're fine," he answered her. Stan frowned, tugging pointedly on Kyle's shirt and Kyle looked at him with a wry face. "Dude, calm t-the fuck d-down," he sighed. She'd goddamn seen him without a shirt before, and she'd probably gotten more than that just seconds ago. He was too tired to care, he just wanted to go get food.

Kendra whirled around, standing and shooting Stan a cautious glance as she approached them. Kyle looked from her down to the shirt Stan had picked and sighed. "Stan? Can you get me a robe, too? I don't w-want people to… see," he frowned, glancing down at his spindly legs.

Stan nodded, patting the small of his back and guiding him to sit back onto the bed. "Yeah. Just a second." He shot Kendra a warning look before turning to head back to Kyle's wardrobe. Kyle sighed, whimpering as he fought to get his nightshirt off. Kendra hesitated before stepping forward and sitting next to him, assisting him in pulling it off over his head and tossing it behind him. Kyle barely took note of her proximity, too stuck looking with distress at his protruding ribs and collarbone.

Kendra peered at his back, the way his spine stood so starkly under his skin and she shuddered. She'd watched Gollum feed him a liquid of nutrients through her week at his side, something he could unconsciously swallow to keep him from withering into nothing. She frowned. Didn't seem to work all that well. He looked awful. Movement caught her attention and she looked back at him reaching to touch his face, feel his cheekbones and scrunching his eyes shut. "Not fair," he whispered to himself, bowing his head and sniffling, his other hand reaching to grab at his flat stomach. Kendra's face fell, seeing him digging his nails into the flesh.

She'd been warned about this, how he would fall into a brief period of self-loathing after awakening. It only lasted a few days more often than not, but he would have a rough time making sense of his ailments as he came back into the ever-moving world, having to readjust once more to get back into his typical steps. She bit his lip, taking the pressing hands from his skin and pulling him forward in a tight embrace. She didn't know what to do, couldn't tell him not to worry, because she had no idea what he was going through. She could only be here.

Kyle blinked, cheek pressed against Kendra's shoulder and staring at the wall, shaking a bit. He felt like he should be more embarrassed being so emotionally fragile around her, needing to be coddled. But she seemed to understand. She seemed to get that he didn't need a thousand reassurances piling on top of him as he so often got from his family and Stan, he just needed someone with him right now. He sunk into her hold, tremoring arms timidly moving to wrap back around her. She blinked in surprise, not expecting a return but welcoming it with a long, content sigh and pulling him in further. She'd been nothing short of terrified that he would suddenly take a turn for the worse, despite everyone proclaiming the contrary. Having him up again was nothing short of a miracle in her eyes, eyes that were rarely blessed with anything going in her favor. Kyle waking back up seemed to repay a lifetime of loss and then some.

Kyle's eyes slipped closed, relishing in a moment of tenderness against the cacophony of turmoil raging inside of him. Her head lightly fell atop his own, and they just let themselves breathe, let themselves lose sight of the Hell they'd been subjected to and soaking in the smell of one another.

Stan watched from the closet, fingers digging bitterly into the silk of Kyle's tawny robe before his shoulders merely slumped in defeat. This was getting ridiculous, he was getting way off track with what mattered here. He wished it was himself Kyle was going to for physical comfort, no doubt, but it didn't matter. What mattered was Kyle was breathing properly, he wasn't going into an immediate breakdown as he had so many times in the past. He was just taking things one step at a time and letting himself find gratitude for being able to wake up once more. It was all that was important.

But damn if it didn't hurt.

Slowly and a little unwillingly, Kyle pulled back from Kendra's embrace, the two of them finding themselves staring at each other with comprehension for the first time in over a week. Kyle vaguely remembered being with her when it all started to fade away, saw the bags against golden skin and the bloodshot vines through her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Kendra's brow furrowed, head cocking. A silent 'What the fuck are you talking about' that Kyle could hear with crystal clarity.

"Just…" he sighed, gulping guiltily. "Just… everything. I'm sorry." Kendra shook her head, moving forward and giving him another quick hug, pulling back to slide a gloved hand up to cup his cheek. He stared at her like a man far too lost for one she'd thought so confident, and it broke her heart.

Stan hesitated before moving to stand beside them, clearing his throat lightly and hating the sour taste sweeping over his tongue. "She really took care of you," he forced out, Kyle tilting his head and Kendra's eyes going wide in shock. "She never left once she got up here. Wouldn't leave that chair," he jerked his head towards said furniture. Kyle needed this more than Stan needed his damn pride. Needed to know that there were more people than he knew of taking care of him, worried for him, making damn sure he would always make it to the other side.

Kyle slowly looked at Kendra's slightly blushing face and blinked, "You d-didn't have to do that," he said quietly.

She frowned, nodding curtly before softening and gesturing between Stan and him dramatically.

He smirked, "Well. He's always here. E-even when I tell him t-to beat it."

"Not happening. Ever," Stan rolled his eyes with a small smile, grasping Kyle's shirt and holding it towards him. "Should probably get food in you. I'm sure your mom will order a feast."

"And then yell in p-panic when I can't eat m-more than a quarter of my plate," he shook his head, genially reaching to take the shirt and beginning to slip it on. Kendra and Stan shared a look, one of little more than exhausted understanding. Neither of them could claim to be his one and only here, neither could declare they alone had nursed him back to health with their constant vigilance. Kendra bit her lip, pausing before reaching forward and gripping Stan's hand, giving no more than a small squeeze of a momentary truce, pulling back before Kyle could see.

Stan got more than enough from that, knowing that his behavior upon her arrival wouldn't be told, that she would never divulge his humiliation of disobeying one of a higher standing. It relieved him more than he imagined it would. But, he knew he shouldn't be shocked that it did. Last thing he wanted was to upset Kyle, or to anger him for being so disrespectful to someone that he'd already been lectured on more than once.

Kyle finally pulled his baggy shirt down, satisfied enough that it hid much of what worried him. He gripped his robe, slowly sliding it over his shoulders while staring at the stairwell. "Need coffee," he mumbled, mind blurring with a malnourished body fighting to stay awake. Stan looked back at him and nodded, kneeling to help him slip on his boots.

"Are you sure you don't just want me to bring you something?" he winced, taking his time to knot the right for Kyle to have the time to consider his offer.

"I-I don't wanna meld to the bed," he sighed, looking down at Kendra's hand lightly falling over his own, their fingers loosely threading along one another. He wondered if she'd held his hand nearly her entire time by his side, and he couldn't seem to place how such an occurrence felt to him. With a heavy sigh, Stan finished securing his shoes and got back to his feet, waiting for Kyle to look at him and giving him a tiny smile of encouragement. Reaching up and lightly gripping the fabric atop Stan's shoulder, Kyle hissed with the attempt to tug himself up. He winced as Kendra's arm slid around his back and helped him up onto wobbling legs, both moving to his sides to keep him steady.

"One at a time," Stan coaxed, moving him towards the impending staircase. Kyle's brow furrowed in concentration, hating how he had to remember how to move his goddamn feet. Kendra kept a firm grip around his waist, watching to make sure he didn't trip over himself while Stan led the pack. Stan glanced at Kendra and twisted his lips, "Princess, I got him."

Kendra looked at him with a frown, reaching up with her free hand and flicking his nose.

"Hey!" he complained.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Will you t-two knock it off?" he pleaded. They could save their antics for later when he could properly play the middleman. For now, he just needed them to walk with him. They came to the stairs and his mind seemed to gain a cloud, the steps seeming to stretch endlessly towards the bottom. 'Have they always been like that?' he wondered, wobbling in his place.

Stan and Kendra shared a look before looking at Kyle with stern faces. "You're not using the stairs on your own, Kyle," Stan decreed. "C'mon, I'll carry you-"

"Like hell," Kyle spat, pulling back from him like a man on fire.

Kendra shook her head, holding onto Kyle's shoulder and motioning for Stan to crouch in front of him. Kyle opened his mouth for another protest in favor of his dignity before yelping at a hand gently smacking into the back of his leg and forcing him to collapse onto Stan's waiting back. He groaned, trying to wriggle away before strong arms hooked around his thighs and Stan slowly stood up, Kendra's hand keeping firm on Kyle's back to keep him situated.

"Nooo," he whined, face burning and wooziness rampaging like a hurricane.

Without another word, Stan and Kendra carefully set out down the stairs, each step taken with expert precision to keep precious cargo from slipping out of their grasp. Kyle groaned, head falling limply onto Stan's shoulder, watching the different colored magic lights as they passed. He'd made those, he tiredly recalled. One of his only forays into the world of light transmutation after stumbling across a dusted tome in his studies. His parents hadn't exactly been pleased with his experiments and had hidden the book away, something even years later, he still couldn't comprehend.

Magic was one of the few things he had. It showed the world that he could be strong, even when trapped in such a feeble frame. He wondered if some of those ancient texts could hold some answers for his own health, something that even Gollum hadn't stumbled across in her decades of study. Maybe there was hope for him yet. Once he was king, no one would be able to take anything away from him. He would have free range to devote to finding a way to make himself healthy.

He smiled somberly. He just hoped he could make it that long.

Stan grunted, shifting Kyle on his back, heart dripping into misery at the frightening weight, or lack thereof. Kyle would have next to no appetite; his meals would be nothing but fats and proteins that slugged him down more until he had the energy to go back to a typical diet. The aftermath was nearly as hard as the sickness itself for the entire palace. 'Just a little longer. He'll be back to normal,' he reminded himself staunchly, stepping slightly to the side for Kendra to reach past and shove open the door.

"You all right, Kyle?" Stan asked as they stepped down at last to the corridor.

Kyle sighed through his nose, nodding. "I'm fine." Stan bent down, Kendra moving to help Kyle step tingling feet back onto the floor. Dulled green eyes flickered up and down the stretching way, barely noticing as his companions helped secure his grip around their shoulders. He glanced between their hesitant expressions before gritting his teeth. With a furrowed brow, he forced his legs to move one in front of the other, tightly keeping hold on his ranger and fiancée. The three of them stayed closely aligned with one another, all exhausted but relieved, all set and ready to make their way towards their next steps.