As soon as the parchment entered the room gripped in the hands of an exhausted servant, Cartman's attention piqued. The telltale dark ivory of an unperfected paper bleaching technique and the eye-gouging green of a wheatgrass-infused wax seal were impossible to mistake. The wax seal in particular always made him bristle, knowing that the letter was coming to him from one of Kupa Keep ancestry, not from one of the pathetic Drow that refused to emblazon their letters with the striking red wax infused with cochineal powder for days at a time.
"Hurry up!" he barked, the servant flinching and eyes growing wide as their pace jumped to a brisk jog down the long throne room hall. Cartman made slight notice of Tweek giving a startled yip of his own, absorbing it as an all-too-common echo to be rocketing through his domain. He shifted atop the plush crimson cushion of his throne, looking over to see Garrison making no attempt to stifle a yawn as he flipped through a travel ledger on the table in front of him, free hand swirling a gauntlet of rich red wine. The continuing plodding of lightly-padded feet rushing their way across the stone floor made for no hitch in the duke's everlasting boredom with court duties.
Finally, out of breath and terrified of the well-known short temper of his king, the servant slid to a kneel on the steps leading to Cartman's throne, hand held out delivering his parchment. Cartman swiped it, the thin paper crinkling in his plump grasp. He grunted, waving away the man without a word and not catching as he turned to back away from the potential angry tirade that could be blasted at any moment. Cartman's index finger slid under the wax seal with the swirling font of a bold PK, eyes narrowing as the paper flipped open and he caught sight of the minimal amount of message waiting to greet him.
'Fatass –
Things are fine. I included instructions for your deliverer to hold on to a message for after you finished reading this one. It's for Tweek from Craig, make sure he gets it and Tweek writes back so we know you're keeping your end of the deal.
-K'
Cartman's teeth grinded against one another in frustration. He was more than used to Kenny's repeated insolence against him, his casual demeanor against the man who owned him, but how blatantly he was trying to express power in their dynamic was taking it too far. With the last letter that requested he begin allowing contact between Craig and Tweek, he'd allowed it only for the simple reason of not wanting to invoke more of an issue than need-be with his troublesome "princess". However, Kenny seemed to forget the other half of this deal that Cartman had made more than clear in his return letter, the one that demanded far more detailed accounts of his work other than "things are fine".
Blazing amber eyes slid from the inked spit in his face up to the terrified servant standing up a good ten feet from his chair, waiting for his directions to proceed in handing Tweek his own letter. "Tweek," he said, all eyes turning towards him at the poisonous, sharp tone exploding throughout the room. Tweek looked at him with wide eyes, teeth bearing down on his lower lip in anticipation for a haranguing to ensue. He blinked as Cartman's arm gestured towards the silent man before him. "You have a letter from your rogue. And since our dear princess did not fulfill her end of our little bargain, you will read it aloud."
"I'd really rather he didn't," Garrison commented airily, taking a swig of his wine. "God only knows the perverted shit Craig comes up with."
"He doesn't!" Tweek shot back with a light blush riding along his cheekbones. He took quick, light strides to take the paper from the servant with a grateful nod, backing back up to his post along the eastern wall and fidgeting with the wax seal. His nose twitched at a strong scent coming from the letter, jerking back in surprise at a small, burlap sack that dropped onto the floor as the parchment fell open.
Cartman immediately straightened, eyebrows hiking in suspicion. "Drow poison?" he said, beyond ready to leap back as fast as he could and throw Garrison closer to it than himself.
Tweek reached down, for once far more confident than his king, knowing that nothing from Craig would pose such a threat. He brought it up towards his nose and took another long inhale, recognizing the deep roasted aroma of beans and a sprinkling of spices. "It's coffee," he stated, getting a long eyeroll from Cartman.
Craig had a fucking job to do, and he was out buying gifts for a fucking barbarian. Typical disobedience.
Garrison let out a sound of distaste. "If it's as weak as their wine, don't even bother, Tweek," he advised.
"Read the goddamn letter!" Cartman yelled. "And you, get out!" he shouted at the servant, who quickly turned heel to do as ordered.
Tweek gulped, hands shaking at the full page of Craig's trademarked even penmanship and rolled his shoulders back. He cleared his throat, hazel eyes worriedly scanning through for key words now that Garrison had planted the worry in his mind.
"TWEEK! DID YOU FUCKING FORGET HOW TO READ?!" Cartman bellowed.
"S-SORRY!" he sputtered, coughing in nerves.
"'Tweek –
The last few weeks haven't been easy here. Prince Kyle was sick for nine days, the entire kingdom may as well have stopped entirely waiting for him to heal. He was sick enough no one was sure he would pull through, but apparently Fatass-…'" Tweek trailed off, looking at Cartman nervously and wincing at an infuriated curl of the man's lip.
"Keep. Going," he ordered, shooting Garrison a glare for a poorly-concealed snicker.
"…'W-won't be getting his wish. Prince Kyle pulled through and has spent the last few weeks recovering fairly quickly for as close to death as he seemed to be. The queen has been shoving food down his throat nonstop, so even more for Fatass to be jealous of.'" Tweek closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head, making a mental note for his reply letter to plead for Craig to lay off on referring to the king as such for his own sake. He continued, "'While she's done so, she's also made sure to give the same treatment to myself, Butters, the princess, and all of the prince's companions. If I have to eat another full bowl of squash soup I may not be able to walk again. How Fatass manages it I'll never know. I did manage in one of her fits to get you a sample of Drow coffee. I'm not sure what they put in it, but the prince assured me that this is the best of their selection, or at least his favorite. If you hate it blame him.
Hope you're doing well stuck in the Keep, keep me updated when you can and murder anyone who agitates you too much.
-Craig'"
Cartman's eyes were shut; long, angry breaths seeped through flared nostrils. Why did he have the most disrespectful people working for him? He should've kept Butters around, at least he knew how to goddamn mind his place. Or maybe he needed someone even more loyal, someone who would have made sure the Drow witch had actually died.
With a grunt and grinding teeth, his eyes snapped open, landing on an apprehensive barbarian waiting for his next move. "You can both leave," he said, voice cutting through the throne room. "You can tell Craig to go fuck himself in your reply," he finished. Tweek nodded, hurriedly turning to leave as instructed. Garrison was slower to comply, groaning and complaining about having to move.
"Shouldn't've pissed you off that much, Fatas-"
"OUT I SAID!" he yelled, getting a replying smirk as the duke took a final swig of his wine on his way out.
As the heavy door shut behind him, a movement from the shadows of the heavy drapery along the western windows caught his eye. He grumbled to himself, watching Damien coming into the light of the room with a sly grin. "Problems, Your Majesty?" he purred.
He rolled his eyes, not willing to deal with these damn visits of Damien's at every turn. "Kinny is pissing me off," he grumbled, getting to his feet and plodding over to the desk where Garrison's journals laid abandoned.
"Oh and what a change of pace this is," he scoffed, feet moving in a swirling pattern as he stepped forward towards the king shuffling through parchment. "Seems you're also rather upset about my little prince surviving his ordeal."
"Well it certainly doesn't make me happy," he drawled, finally snatching a blank sheet from the pile and fiddling with the quill resting in its inkpot.
Damien rolled his eyes, leaning against the table and watching him dipping the quill. "I keep telling you, he can't die, or my plans go to shit. Besides, the power won't let him."
"Uh huh," Cartman muttered, gaze flickering up to him. "Still think it'd be better to just kill him off."
"And that's why you're not pulling the strings like I am, Fatass," he hissed ignoring the aggravated huff from the plump face before him. "What are you doing?"
"Making sure Kinny remembers what he's supposed to be fucking doing," he grumbled, attention turning down to the over-sopped quill splattering on the parchment. "If he's going to be a concise prick, two can play at that game. But me being precise is more troubling for him, I would think," he said, getting an agreeing nod and smirk from his Olath counterpart.
'You have four months left. Make them fucking count. Or else.'
It had been slow-going, but finally there was a rhythm back in the Broflovskis' castle. Between the prince's ailment and the routine follow-up of his guard's bout of exhaustion, things had trouble starting back as they were supposed to. But as Stan healed and Kendra finally had time to rest after his recovery and knowing Christophe would not be alone with the prince, things finally seemed to be slowly crawling their way back like the vines along the stone walls.
Kendra sat in the library, eyes drooping with a restless sleep still pressing against her. It seemed to be more common after the worry of Kyle's health had passed. Too many nights she found herself waking in a cold sweat, wide-eyed at the flowers towering above her head. The pressure was becoming near-unbearable as she wrestled hour after hour with the decision she had to make.
It didn't matter what she chose in the end, she figured. Either way, she was destined to lose.
"You okay?" a sudden voice came from beside her and she nearly leapt back, ripped from the book in front of her and heart pounding.
A hand immediately came to her arm to stabilize her and the touch was unmistakable, knowing well enough that it was the hand of Kyle and an impending apology.
"Sorry, sorry," he blurted, right on cue. A small smile crept up onto Kendra's face at last, having been without one since dinner with him and his family the night prior. "I need a bell or something; I keep doing that to you," he pouted, taking his hand back and straightening up, a tired breath sneaking through his words.
Kendra looked up at him as he stood, noting his cheeks full of more color and more shape than the week before. He still wasn't where he was when she'd first met him, but three weeks of steady food and Gollum's medicinal wares had seemed to fast-track him back to where he should be. He could walk on his own again, despite Stan's insistence that he shouldn't have as soon as he did. Kendra couldn't say she was the least bit surprised how Kyle had shoved him away to go recover from his own ailments and limped away shouting back orders for him to rest. She couldn't say she minded the separation all that much, after all, she got to be the one to catch Kyle's stumbles.
"What're you up to?" Kyle asked, blindly reaching beside him for a chair to pull up.
Kendra tongued her lips, cringing at the texture of the overlaying silken veil on her mouth as she turned her book to its cover for him to see.
His head cocked as he sat, reading the inscription. "Agriculture. How thrilling," he teased, getting a shrug and smirk as her hand fiddled with a letter of response.
'Well I feel like it's important to know what you all grow, my prince.'
He nodded, "It is. Just… man, you're gonna regret it. It's a never-ending nightmare," he snorted.
Her hand continued and he watched the words slipping onto the parchment like watercolors, 'One problem, however. All the fucking names are in Elvish.'
Kyle winced, nodding again. "Yeah that's on purpose. So invaders can't take our gardening secrets," he rolled his eyes. "I can help if you really want it."
She nodded hurriedly, shoving the book between them and scooting up against his arm. He snorted and shook his head, looking at her gloved finger jabbing in frustration at a scripted st'allneni. "Ah, that's strawberries," he said, raising his own hand and directing her to the word. "The ni? It means berry, essentially. It's kind of adapted from the human terminology," he waved his hand aimlessly.
Kendra squinted at him and he bit his lip, hand dropping to tap his finger in thought of how to explain.
"We call them berries because humans classed them that way. A lot of Elvish is just kind of… rebranded human language. All the Drows have done it that way, it just makes it easier to generalize and to… sell to trusting humans in the few places they exist," he shrugged. "Back when you know, things were more peaceful, there was the common tongue. But when all the elf slayings started we kinda just… stole words and made them our own."
Kendra winced, quill dipping back into her inkpot. 'Sorry to bring it up.'
He chuckled, catching glimpse of Stan and Craig arguing quietly in their own corner. "You didn't, I did…" he continued looking at their guards, Kendra turning and looking as well, confused with his fascination at the two of them doing what they always did best. "Humans just… really like to fight," Kyle finally said. "Never can agree on anything."
She turned back to him, offering an apologetic shrug and another note. 'I don't particularly like that about us either.'
"I know," he assured her. "I know there's evil elves here and there… And I know there's peaceful humans. They're just, you know, never the ones in power. Or, at least rarely," he corrected, gesturing to her.
She let out a quiet breath of a laugh through her nose, hand back to work. 'I don't have power. If I did, Fatass couldn't have sent me here. Not that I hate it, I just had no choice.'
"Well. You and me both," he reminded her with a small smile. "But hey, when my parents are gone we both have power. So, we'll get there someday. Hopefully not too soon," he added. She nodded with a grin, shouldering him lightly.
'So, bit of a large task to ask, but, could you teach me at least a little Elvish? It'd be a lot easier to understand what I'm getting into if I could actually speak the language.'
He read over the request a few times, making damn sure he was certain of what was being asked. "I… Y-yeah, sure," he said, nodding. "Uh, I might be the worst teacher though."
'How? I thought you were fluent.'
"I am, I am," he nodded, teeth clacking in embarrassment. "I'm just… impatient. Very impatient. I feel like you've learned that at this point."
She smirked, flicking his cheek. 'Won't you make an exception for me?' she wrote, sneaking a little inked heart at the end of her message and giving him an exaggerated wink.
He blushed immediately, face scrunching in frustration. "I feel like accepting now would be letting you get away with that," he complained, rolling his eyes at her shoulders shaking with laughter. "So, ignoring all that," he gestured around her paper, "Yeah, I'll teach you. And I'll try to be nicer with you than I was with Stan, Token, and Clyde."
'Oh? Do tell.'
"…I threw books at them because they refused to try pronouncing things right. Mind you we were about five at the time."
She snickered to herself, patting his head to soothe some of his obvious embarrassment. 'Well, you don't have to worry about pronunciation with me, so that's stress off your shoulders.'
He looked up at her and smiled shyly, letting out a quiet laugh. "True."
'Then it's settled,' she wrote. 'Now tell me what the hell soil density means.'
Kyle nodded with a larger smile before launching into an explanation that poor Kendra's city-dweller background could only follow with the barest of understanding. But it seemed to be enough, Kyle's voice picking up in self-assuredness as he was received with a few nods and follow-ups that he deemed good enough to carry on the conversation.
As he talked, Kendra's chest heaved with a heavy sigh. She certainly didn't like her schooling back home, but that was merely mannerisms and how to stay silent and pretty behind her king. Here, she was in the know-how, would be part of an ensemble of royals that let tilled soil slip through their fingers as it would any peasant's. It was good, she told herself, chuckling to herself at her teacher's tendency to break off of a direct answer into anecdotes and little historical tidbits.
She could tell, this is where he thrived. His knowledge of his people, of his culture and his history. His pride in coming from such a background and being able to share it with a willing participant who wouldn't blow off trying to understand the most basic of his ways. The robe hanging loosely off his undernourished frame didn't seem so baggy, his confidence in what he knew swelling between them and the glow of excitement at the prospect of harvesting cycle discussion rushed through his lips. She smiled, moving a bit closer and only throwing off his rhythm for a beat as she leaned against his arm. He blinked before allowing himself to lean into the touch as well and continuing to press forward with Kendra's eyes diligently moving between the text and his lightly freckled face.
She sighed once again, comfortable in their own little bubble and just wanting it to last as long as it possibly could.
Every day, her decision just got so much harder
A/N: Hi sorry it's been a year. School and mental breakdowns galore and a shot muse got in the way what can I say. (Also writing Cartman parts are so boring to me it's not my orange idiots nothing matters but them)
If you're still around, thanks for stickin' with me despite my horrendous updating schedule, seriously I appreciate it! Thanks for R&Ring!