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Festivities in Zaron were nothing new. Both within the Keep and inside the elven realms: royal ceremonies, feasts, even when treaties were being signed. Now was no exception as the leaders of both respective factions would be meeting. To keep things at peace, it’d been at the high wizard Cartman’s insistence they hosted a ball.
Surprisingly, the elven king Broflovski conceded to the suggestion.
Though he refused to go without his personal guard, Stanley Marshwalker, at his side. Who knew what could happen when faced with Cartman?
Kyle and his personal guard, Stanley Marshwalker, had been escorted into the palace and instructed to wait until the grand wizard appeared in order to start their meeting. He sighed, arms crossed over his chest. Just how much longer would this irresponsible human make them wait for?
“So you did make it, I see!” The wizard’s voice cut through the crowd.
“The treaty is of the utmost importance,” Kyle bristled, tail lashing from behind. “I’m sure you can understand why I’m wanting to make an alliance with the Keep. I think this feud has to reach its end eventually.”
“Oh, but of course!” Cartman exclaimed, grinning widely. “There’ll be plenty of time for drinks and the ball once we’re done.”
“Charmed,” Kyle deadpanned as he made his way into the meeting room. “I’m sure you’ve got your terms. Lay them down on me.”
“You’re really impatient, aren’t you?”
“Get to the point. We don’t have all day to waste,” the elven king bristled, keeping his anger in check just enough for them to talk civilly.
“Fine, fine! First, all elven goods will be inspected before they can be brought into the Keep! What do you think, Kahl?”
That’s nowhere close to my name, Kyle thought to himself but he opted against saying something. “Is that all?” He asked instead as his ears twitched, knowing full well nothing could ever be that easy when it came to the Keep’s leader.
“If you want this treaty to go through, I want access to some of the elven lands,” Cartman added.
The elven king’s tail swung rapidly, shooting upright.
“You can’t be serious,” Kyle hissed. “What makes you think I’d allow more of your kind to step foot into elven grounds?”
“I thought you wanted peace between the two kingdoms! Or is that now off the table?” The wizard chuckled, eyes gleaming.
For a moment, the two royals seemed to be at a standby before a low, rumbling snarl echoed out and then cut off into a sigh.
“Very well. Under the conditions you notify us in advance and the elven guards will greet you at the point of your destination,” Kyle conceded.
“Excellent. I knew we could be on the same page.”
The meeting continued for another hour before they finally created a finalized version of the treaty. Cartman was the first to sign – large letters looping to write out his first initial and complete last name. Kyle’s bush-tipped tail flicked to one side before he signed in neat cursive.
And so it was… for the first time in a while, humans and elves had set their differences aside in order to coexist in peace.
“Though now, Kyle, we celebrate!”
Had it been up to Kyle, he would’ve left as soon as the treaty was signed but he had an image to maintain. As a king, he needed to demonstrate the new era between both kingdoms which marked him into being the guest of honor. His ears pricked at the familiar footsteps of Stanley Marshwalker.
“Are you enjoying the party?” Marshwalker broke the silence. “We can always be on our way if you don’t want to stick around.”
“No,” Kyle answered. “This is the first step toward the alliance.”
He couldn’t tell Marshwalker about the building pressure in his head. Kyle’s ear twitched as he brought the wine glass up to his lips, taking a careful sip. He forced himself to keep standing – not needing the rumors which might form if they knew about his flare-ups.
Whatever they were.
“If you’re sure,” Marshwalker sighed. “Are you feeling alright, your majesty?”
“Of course I’m alright,” Kyle said, taking a half step forward before a wave of dizziness washed over him. The king’s knees buckled out from underneath him. Right when he thought he’d hit the ground, a pair of arms broke Kyle’s fall.
“Your majesty,” Marshwalker addressed him, dropping his voice into a whisper. “I think we should find somewhere for you to rest for the time being.”
“I can walk just-”
“No, you can’t. Please, let me help you.”
Swallowing, Kyle conceded with the other’s request and gave him a nod.
Under the pretense Kyle had drunk a little too much whine, Stan had escorted Kyle into a private suite. He eased the elven royal to sit down and handed him a glass of water.
“Drink. Your strength isn’t at its highest right now,” the royal guard murmured.
“I’m- I’m aware,” Kyle sighed. “I’ve had this… illness even as a child, but no physician could ever figure out what it was. Sometimes standing for too long becomes difficult. I hate feeling so weak.”
“You’re not weak,” Stan pointed out. “Whatever it is, I’ll always be at your side, your majesty.”
There was a beat of silence before Kyle shakily answered.
“I… Thank you, Stan,” he replied quietly. The walls he’d built up were crumbling but he couldn’t bring himself to look too vulnerable in front of Stanley. Not when Kyle was the king. Certainly not when he–
Kyle pushed the turbulent thoughts away, allowing Stan to sit down beside him.
“I’ll keep your secret safe. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to,” Stan began, tone far too gentle. “You can count on me.”
“I know,” Kyle whispered. “There’s much I still have to learn as the king and I want you at my side for that.”
“Do you want to just stay here for now?”
“Yes, I’m still feeling a bit woozy,” Kyle admitted.
It wasn’t too long before the king dozed off, head resting on Stan’s shoulder, but the guard stayed as still as he could. For however long Kyle needed, Stan would be there for him.
Come hell or high water, Stan vowed to protect Kyle.
Almost as if they were bound by the red strings of fate and honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.