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The first time Stan competed in a tournament, he thought he might die of nerves. The night before, he tossed and turned in his bed until he couldn’t take it anymore. Stan crept out of his room, which was far too extravagant for him, and made his way down to the kitchens. He hoped the staff was asleep, as they’d never taken to his presence in the Elven Kingdom. Stan walked slowly, careful not to wake anyone in the castle, and was greeted with a familiar face when he entered the kitchen.
“Stan!” said Kyle, and though there was only one lit candle in the kitchens, Stan could still see the bright smile painting Kyle’s flawless visage.
Stan deeply bowed to Kyle and murmured, “Your Majesty.”
“No need for all that.” Stan lifted his head. “May I ask what keeps you up this late? You have a busy day tomorrow.”
“My king does not need to be so polite,” Stan said. He wanted to get some stew but felt too nervous to eat in front of Kyle. “I do not deserve such courtesies. To answer, I must admit that I find myself nervous about tomorrow’s events. My king has done far too much for me, and I worry that I will perform poorly. I worry that I may embarrass you.”
“You could never.” Kyle moved to the cabinets and took out two bowls, carefully filling each one with stew. “Would you like a bowl? Careful; if you refuse your high king, I may have to take your head.”
“You are too kind, Your Majesty,” said Stan, walking closer to Kyle. He took a bowl, and the warmth of the beef stew went into the rough skin of his hands, through his veins, and all the way into his soul. Stan sat down, and Kyle sat closely beside him.
“It is normal to be nervous, Stan,” Kyle reassured, his voice strong and comforting. “But know this: you, of all people, should not be afraid. You are the greatest warrior of your age in the Elven Kingdom.”
“That’s not true.” Stan hated to disagree with a king, but it wasn’t. “I can’t even use magic. I’m not an official knight, either. And I’ll never be a knight, all because I’m human.” No one in the Elven Kingdom would ever wish to be protected by a human, not while they were still sworn enemies of the humans in Kupa Keep.
“Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Told me what?”
“That you couldn’t be a knight because you’re human,” Kyle clarified. Stan dared to look him in the eyes and see the fire and fury that lived within him.
“No one needed to tell me. I just know.” Stan busied himself with his stew, which was truly excellent. Food meant for royalty always tasted the best.
“You are not ignorant, yet you think such a silly thing. You will surely be a fine knight the moment you come of age."
“To whom?” Stan snorted before covering his mouth and lowering his gaze. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I am acting—”
“You are acting perfectly normal,” Kyle proclaimed. “In fact, I’d rather you be more informal. I do hate being called king this, king that. It’s far too much pressure, if you ask me. And, because you asked me who’d you be a knight to, how’d you like to serve me?”
“Do not make fun of me.” Stan shook his head at Kyle and moved to stand up. “It is cruel.”
“I do not jest.” Kyle took Stan’s arm and lightly pulled him down, returning him to his seat. “Like I said, you are a fine warrior. I do want only the best guarding me.”
"But... I would not deserve such a privilege.” To serve the king was a privilege reserved only for the most experienced knights who had proved themselves to the kingdom. It was not Stan’s place, not while he was a human ward born in an enemy kingdom.
“Are you a betting man?”
“Do you think me immoral?” Stan said, scowling to himself.
“Well, not any more than I am.” Kyle smiled at Stan with a sly smile that made him shiver. “I am a betting man. In fact, I’ve bet at every tournament the crown has ever held.”
“Were you even betting as a child, Your Majesty? The crown was holding tourneys before you could even speak.”
“Before you could speak, as well. Would you like to hear the bet I’m making today?”
“If I must.”
“If you win,” Kyle promised, speaking slowly. Before he continued, he lightly touched Stan’s face, directing Stan to make eye contact with him. “I shall knight you right there. I will proclaim you a knight to the king, with all there to witness.”
“And why would my king do that?”
“Because I like you,” said Kyle, looking away and going back to his stew. “And it is somewhat lonely for me.”
“Lonely? You are the High King.”
“Yes, and I suspect that is why I am lonely.” Kyle sighed and took a long sip from his stew. “To be royalty means all those ahead in the line of succession have perished. My mother, my father; I did not even get to say goodbye.”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” Stan hesitantly put his hand on Kyle’s shoulder and squeezed tightly when Kyle offered no complaints. “I lost my father, as you well know, before I was taken in by the Elven Kingdom. And now I have no family. I think if I were to see my mother now, I would not even recognize her.”
“Me neither,” Kyle admitted, his voice uncharacteristically weak. “I was too young when he passed. I cannot remember his face or his voice.”
“That is okay. You remember his kindness, don’t you? You know of the former High King’s intelligence in arguments and the former High Queen’s love for the common elves. Your parents would not be disappointed in you, Your Majesty; they know well that memory is fallible. They would only be proud of the king you have managed to become at the young age of sixteen.”
“Oh.” Stan looked at Kyle and was shocked to see glimmering tears flowing down his face. “No one has ever said something like that to me before.”
“I have been told I’m too emotional,” Stan sheepishly admitted.
“Have you?” Kyle lightly chuckled, falling into silence for a few delicate moments before he continued, “What a silly thing to be. Too emotional. You are certainly not too emotional. Stan, you are the only one who has managed to say something to make me feel better about my parents.”
“I doubt that, Your Majesty.”
“I think I’d know better than you,” Kyle chastised, but his tone was light and teasing. “I got a lot of congratulations, if you’d believe it.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. On getting the throne.” Kyle loudly sighed and slumped against Stan’s shoulder, causing Stan to turn rigid. “As if I were to be grateful. I do not think I particularly like ruling.”
“Yet you are exceptional at it.” Stan meant it. Kyle graced Stan with an indulgent smile before slowly standing up.
“You are exceptional, Stan. I cannot wait to name you Sir Stan.” Stan felt himself flush—a new experience—and was left alone in the kitchens with only his stew and Kyle’s words echoing in his head. They did not stop, not when he finished and cleaned his bowl, nor when he was finally asleep. The first thing he thought of in the morning was Kyle; the dream of being Sir Stan. Specifically, Sir Stan, knight and protector of High King Kyle Broflovski.
Stan didn’t like jousting. He was unsure who truly did and found it a dull affair to watch. Actually participating was nerve-wracking, no matter how hard he trained. Stan went down to the stables and met with his horse, Sparky, petting him. He was going up against trained warriors—those who had already been knighted; who were older and wiser than him. Stan may have been heralded as a prodigy, but experience truly trumped everything else.
Yet he knew he had to win. Stan went to the armory and held his lance, the heavy thing, and prepared himself. This wasn’t just fun; this was his chance. He would prove himself to Kyle, and he would be a true knight.
Stan’s heart was pumping by the time his first joust came. He was to face off against one of the few unknighted participants, the young Lord Bradley Biggle. Lord Biggle, after his father’s demise, recently came into great fortune and thus could afford the tremendous costs of jousting. Stan was lucky enough to have his covered by the crown. Stan felt tentative comfort in his match against Lord Biggle and truly believed he could beat the man.
“The Lord of Mistport, Stanley Marshwalker!” Stan trotted out and saw the crowds neutral to him, which was better than expected. He couldn’t expect elves to take kindly to him, not when he was only a ward. It was kind of the announcer to not include that in his title.
"And... The Lord of Whitpeak, Bradley Biggle!” Shockingly, the crowd was unreceptive to Lord Biggle. Likely, Stan thought, because he did not take this seriously. Stan doubted that Lord Biggle genuinely wanted to be a knight; he just wanted to invest his late parents’ money into a new hobby.
Thankfully, Stan’s comfort was not misplaced, as Lord Biggle had lightly grazed Sparky as they jousted, disqualifying him from the tourney. Before Stan left the ring, he looked through his helm at Kyle, shocked to see Kyle staring right back at him. Stan was, at first, considering asking one of the elven ladies for a favor, but felt the inscrutable urge to approach Kyle. He knew it was absurd and knew he could not ask him for a favor, yet he longed nonetheless.
Time passed by, and he didn’t even know who he was facing until he was called yet again. This time, after his name was said, Stan thought he heard a bit more cheering. He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, safe in the knowledge that no one could see it under his helm.
"And... Sir Chris Donnely!” There was thundering cheer for Sir Chris, who was well-liked among the common elves. He did not come from nobility but rather worked his way up to his knighthood and lived with honor and valor. Stan was not particularly confident, but he steeled himself nonetheless.
If Stan could only dismount Sir Donnely, then he would have a real chance. Stan readied his lance, and they approached one another, with Stan carefully going for a strike that would not shatter his lance and give him full points, but a strong strike that would unseat Sir Donnely. Luck was on his side once again, and Stan smiled as he dismounted his horse. He felt deeply confident in his abilities in a swordfight and, though he knew it was an arrogant assumption, often thought himself to be the very best.
After only parrying Sir Donnely several times, Stan had his sword against Sir Donnely’s vital point. He swiftly kicked Sir Donnely’s weapon out of his hand and heard the roaring of the crowd. Stan took a dramatic bow and looked, once again, at Kyle. He was smiling and, once again, looking directly at Stan. Stan bowed again, directing his body towards Kyle, and when he looked up, he saw Kyle with one perfectly raised eyebrow.
Stan exited the ring and readied himself for his final match, thinking of Kyle’s expression. Was it because winning twice wasn’t enough for him? Stan knew he had to win the entire tournament but wondered how that was even possible. He watched as Sir Jason White shattered his lance in his match and loudly exhaled. Sir Jason was famous, well-liked, and adored among the nobility. He had the skill and grace while still being a lord, and Stan truly doubted that he could win.
“Sir Jason White of Stillpass!” the announcer said, and Stan watched as Sir White pranced out, the picture of grace and confidence.
"And... the Lord of Mistport, Stanley Marshwalker!” Stan exited and took a deep breath. Sir White surely was an exceptional jouster, but Stan could unseat him. He could still win this. Stan readied his lance and his horse and, before he knew it, was rapidly approaching Sir White. He tried to do a similar move as he did with Sir Donnely, but it was to no avail; the moment Sir White’s lance touched Stan, it shattered. The perfect hit.
The crowd raged and cheered, and Stan couldn’t hear a thing, too focused on Kyle and his potential disappointment. He looked up to his king but only saw the same pleasant smile. The smile remained as Kyle did the unexpected and began a speech.
“Sir Jason White of Stillpass!” Kyle began, his voice somehow booming across the ring. “You are well known for your honor, and your noble blood has been pledged to my family for centuries. It is with great respect that I offer you a place in my Royal Guard. Do you accept?”
Sir Jason deeply bowed and seemed as though he was about to pledge his sword, but Stan couldn’t focus. He knew he wouldn’t be knighted if he didn’t win, but it stung nonetheless.
“—Stanley Marshwalker,” Stan heard Kyle say and sharply looked up. “of Mistport, who has lived in the Elven Kingdom since his youth. He resides in my own castle and is known among the crown’s companions as a man of loyalty. Not to Kupa Keep, but to the kingdom that raised him! To Stanley Marshwalker, I offer knighthood!” Stan wasn’t even a squire, but there was no complaint from the crowd. They cheered without discrimination, and Stan thought he might pass out.
“And, for his bravery and exceptional skill, I offer Sir Stanley Marsh a place in my royal guard!” Stan thought this may be where the crowd turned on him, as he hadn’t even said his knight’s vows yet, but still, there was only support. Stan looked at Kyle and almost cried; he didn’t even win, and Kyle was still honoring him. Stan would give up anything to stay in the Elven Kingdom. He would give up his right to Mistport and would take a vow of celibacy if it was necessary. Anything for the man who gave Stan a place in history as one of the youngest knights, for the man who eased his nerves, and for the man who betted on the underdog.
❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
“Do you believe in creatures of myth?” Kyle asked, and Stan rolled his eyes.
“Would it kill you to be more specific?” There were far too many mythological creatures, and, technically, elves were one of them. Stan believed in the old myths—krakens in the deep sea and mischievous forest faeries—but thought little of creatures like mermaids and unicorns.
“Referring to your king as ‘you?’” Kyle questioned, his voice taking on a mock-affronted tone. “You were once a most trusted knight... I fear I’ll have to behead you now. Farewell, Sir Stan.” Kyle loved threatening beheading as a punishment, which Stan thought was truly strange, considering Kyle himself had ended the practice when he ascended to the throne.
“Please. All your other knights are too dull. You’d be bored to death without me.”
“That I would be. I was particularly referring to sirens.” Kyle glared at a piece of parchment he was holding as if it had personally affronted him. “My naval commander is claiming a ship fell in the deep seas because all the sailors jumped overboard after hearing a siren’s song.”
“How did he know they heard a siren’s song if they all jumped overboard?” Stan also thought that sirens were certainly fake. There is no need to lure men with a song; many would jump overboard just at the sight of a woman.
“That’s what I wonder.” Kyle continued to read, sighing as he said, “He said that one sailor somehow managed to escape the clutches of a ‘particularly naïve siren’ and returned to tell the tale. Lord Prince is a good man and a notably honorable one, but he never considers that his sailors may simply be lying.”
“He trusts his soldiers.” Stan shrugged and stood behind Kyle, massaging his shoulders. “It is frustrating, but it is also what makes him a good man.”
“You’re right,” Kyle said, but frustration still bled into his voice. “I wish, sometimes, that I could just do everything. This kingdom would run so much smoother if I could be in a hundred places at once.”
“You sound self-obsessed, my king.” Stan kept his voice light and continued to massage Kyle, leaning in closer as he whispered, “What of your Royal Guard? Would you rather be protected by an army of yourself?”
“No, Gods no,” Kyle said, and Stan felt him shiver underneath his touch. “I have little prowess with a sword. Maybe my guard could just be an army of you. Though that would get unbearable.” Stan took his hands off of Kyle and scowled.
“Unbearable?!”
“Well, one of you is okay. But an army of you?” Kyle seemed to think about it before firmly shaking his head. “I’d hear an army of footsteps every night, a gaggle of restless Stans going to the kitchens to steal my food.”
“It’s not my fault food for royalty is so much better.”
“We dine at the same table, Stan.” Kyle rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, making eye contact with Stan. “We eat the exact same food.”
“That’s what you want me to think,” said Stan, resisting the urge to color his words with laughter. It was much funnier when he acted serious. “It’s okay, Your Majesty. I know you are secretly poisoning me, and I do not hold a grudge. I am only your loyal servant.”
“Oh, hush.” Kyle stood and said, “Perhaps I should have never knighted you. Look at your insatiable pride.”
“You are a gambler. That is much worse.”
“I am a king,” proclaimed Kyle, turning up his chin. “All my sins are excusable.” At that, they both laughed.
“You sound like the grand wizard king,” Stan teased, and Kyle’s grin fell.
“I truly hate that man.” Stan nodded; it was all Grand Wizard King Eric Cartman’s fault that the true war between the Elven Kingdom and Kupa Keep had ever begun. He was a thief, a liar, and a man who utterly despised elves.
"Perhaps one day, the princess will rule in his steed,” mused Stan. He didn’t know much of Princess Kenny but knew that she had the true claim to the throne. The grand wizard simply stole it with his magic.
“I can only hope. He got in the way of everything, truly. Our kingdoms could have been at peace by now.” Kyle looked at Stan with burning intensity, his lips quivering as he said, “You could have gone home.”
“Nonsense. This is my home.” Stan had to stop himself from feeling insulted by Kyle’s insinuation that the Elven Kingdom wasn’t his home, and he was rewarded with Kyle’s watery smile. “You are a capable ruler. Far more capable than the grand wizard. You will ensure peace; I’m sure of it.” Kyle pushed his forehead against Stan’s and shut his eyes. Stan could look at Kyle up close and freely; he stared at the flush on his cheeks that always came when he was frustrated, the twitch in his nose, and the delicate pink color of his lips.
“I fear you may be the only one who believes in me, Sir Stan.”
“You bet on me, once,” Stan said, taking his hand and resting it on Kyle’s cheek. Stan stroked his cheek with his thumb, sighing as he continued, “So I will always bet on you.”
“You’re a loyal one,” Kyle praised, and Stan prayed that the gods would forgive him for his insatiable urge to close the gap. He wanted to kiss Kyle, his high king, more than he had ever wanted a thing before. He would give up his knighthood for it, even if the kiss only lasted half a moment. It would surely be worth it, as Stan knew there was nothing in this world as rare and sweet as Kyle. “Would you like to join my high council?” Stan snapped out of his thoughts, and Kyle opened his eyes. They looked at each other, and Stan replied,
“I have no political insight.”
“You are human,” Kyle began, and he didn’t blink. Stan found it off-putting but still enjoyed the sight of Kyle’s burning green eyes. “You are a fine knight and a lord in Kupa Keep.”
“I am barely the Lord of Mistport,” Stan dismissed. Last he heard, Shelley was regent in his name and was quite good at the role. “I only know that they fish there. Maybe there’s some ships, too.” Kyle laughed and said,
“Maybe?! I’d say half of the Keep’s ships are in your land.”
“Truly?” Stan frowned. “How rude of them. Maybe I’ll go back just to burn their fleet.”
“Stan!” Kyle lightly chastised, his voice rich with laughter. “You cannot do such a thing. You are still respected in Kupa Keep.”
“Oh,” Stan said, thinking about it for a moment. “I do not think I care to be respected there. I’d rather they hate me and never bother me so I could spend eternity with you.”
“I wish eternity was an option,” Kyle whispered, and Stan smiled. “Please, Stan. Please join my high council. I want you there.” Stan, powerless against Kyle’s wants, accepted. He said yes and left the room, but even if his distance from Kyle grew, Stan’s endless longing to be closer to Kyle seemed ever-present.
❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
“I am concerned, Your Majesty,” admitted Lord Prince. “I do not doubt I could match the Keep’s naval forces, but I fear for the casualties.”
“You are right to be considered, Lord Prince, but I assure you there will be no magicians among the Keep’s navy. The grand wizard keeps them with him, and he certainly will not be in the seas.” Lord Prince nodded, but Stan could still feel his nerves. It was fair; everyone was scared. It would be strange to be calm on a war council.
“Sir Stan,” Kyle said, turning to face him. Stan nodded, and Kyle continued, “On foot, we have twenty thousand soldiers, two-thirds of whom are proficient in battle magic. What does the Keep have?”
“I am unsure of the specifics, my king, but I do know that our forces will pass through the Keep’s front lines. It’s the castle we must worry about. All of the grand wizard’s powerful magic forces will rest in there, so I advise us not to push that far.”
“There is something in that castle we must reclaim,” Kyle insisted. “Do you have information or counsel?” Kyle’s voice was unusually stern, and Stan had to stop himself from shrinking back.
“Yes, well, we know the grand wizard will be supplied with an extra two thousand barbarian forces, but it seems as though they’ve convinced the clan leader to send another thousand.”
“How in the world?” Lord Petuski muttered.
“How, indeed.” Kyle looked deep in thought, staying silent for a few long minutes before saying, “Barbarians, despite their name, are truly kind. I do not understand why they’d ally with Kupa Keep without a deeper motive. Sir Stan, you still have contacts within the keep?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“See if you can contact someone who can tell us more about this topic.” Kyle rubbed his forehead, let out a long, rumbling exhale, and ordered, “Everyone out, please!” Stan moved to leave, but before he could, Kyle grabbed his arm, looking up at him with a pleading expression. Once all the other lords and knights left, Stan sat down next to Kyle.
“Did you need something, Your Majesty?”
“No, Stan,” Kyle whined, his soft voice a stark contrast to before. “I don’t think I have any idea what I’m doing. I don’t think we’ll win this war.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Stan comforted, though he was concerned for the same reasons. If they invaded the castle, Stan truly believed the Elvish army would collapse. “We’re the ones gaining ground on them, okay? We’re winning. Their navy is nothing compared to ours, and elvish foot soldiers are much better trained.”
“It really all comes down to magic.” Stan sighed, but Kyle was right.
“Maybe. Let’s hope Grand Wizard King Cartman fucks up a spell and ends up in some... I don’t know, eternal abyss? Is that possible?” Kyle seemed to truly consider it before firmly shaking his head.
“I only wish we had more allies,” Kyle complained, and Stan rested a hand on Kyle’s shoulder.
“I do, too. But we don’t need them. We’ll be okay, truly.” Stan, noticing something, let out a soft laugh before he continued, “Sometimes, whenever I try and comfort you by touching your shoulder, I think of the day before you knighted me.”
“Oh, that was a great day,” Kyle said, sighing to himself. “You were one of the few people my age, and I wanted to be your friend more than anything. And you were very good with a sword, which I was always jealous of.”
“Jealous? You can do actual magic.” Steel was nothing compared to magic, which could save or condemn thousands.
“Well, I was jealous anyway. And then you came to the kitchens and said the perfect, kindest thing to me, and I knew I had to have you by my side.” Kyle smiled and took Stan’s hand off his shoulder, intertwining their fingers. “You were so timid, then. I thought you’d be all nice and sensitive when I got to know you and yet, look at you now! You’re rude and vile.”
“I wouldn’t be nearly as great if I wasn’t rude or vile,” Stan said, and Kyle nodded.
“And I wouldn’t be nearly as great if you weren’t here. You know, even if you got last place in that tournament, I would have found a way to knight you.” Stan felt himself flush at this, his heart pounding more so when he felt Kyle gently squeeze his hand. He never thought Kyle would do such a thing; Stan had always believed Kyle knighted him then because he had truly proved himself, even without winning.
“So, you did not care for my fighting prowess?”
“Of course, I cared for your skills!” Kyle said, and Stan found himself exhaling in relief. “I just already knew them. I didn’t need you to prove them to me. And yet, you did.”
“If I knew you would’ve knighted me anyway, I wouldn’t have had to try so hard,” Stan mumbled, thinking of his anxiety throughout the whole event.
“Perhaps. Or, you’d try as hard anyway.”
“Oh, I definitely would have.” Stan chuckled. “I looked up at you after every match. I just wanted to prove something.”
“You did,” Kyle said, and, for once, Stan was confused about what Kyle was saying. Kyle was looking deep into Stan’s gaze, and, with their fingers intertwined, Stan finally realized their improper position.
“What did I prove?” Stan whispered, and though he knew Kyle would talk of Stan’s loyalty or bravery, he only wanted Kyle to say Stan proved his love.
“Well.” Kyle stood and looked down on Stan, smiling as he said, “You proved your loyalty by trying so hard to win for me. Your bravery, facing against establishing knights. But, more than anything,” Kyle’s words tapered off as he kneeled down, eye-level with Stan. He leaned in close, so close that Stan could feel Kyle’s warm breath against his skin. “You proved something to me. Only me, because you didn’t do that just to be a knight, did you?” Stan shook his head.
“I did it for you,” Stan admitted, his voice full of cracks and soft shame.
“Are you embarrassed? Ashamed? You shouldn’t be.”
“I think I should be, Your Majesty,” Stan said, shutting his eyes. “You are a king, and I am a knight, but every time you get close to me, all I can do is long for more. How is that not cause for shame?”
“Of course, it isn’t shameful,” Kyle reassured, and Stan felt Kyle’s hand against his cheek. “Open your eyes." Stan obeyed and nearly fell to pieces at the affection present in Kyle’s gaze.
“Are you certain?”
“Surer then I’ve ever been.” Kyle leaned in, and Stan thought—and desperately hoped—that Kyle was going to kiss him, but he only softly pressed his lips against Stan’s forehead. “Would you call me Kyle?”
“That may be more improper than even this,” Stan said, a light laugh in his voice.
“None of this is improper.” Kyle clinked their foreheads together and said, “Please?”
“Kyle,” Stan relented, and he only just got the word out before Kyle’s lips were on his. Stan had worried once that kisses and romance wouldn't live up to the poems and stories, and perhaps it wasn’t the same because there weren’t any sparks, Stan kind of reeked, and they were in the middle of a war—but it was real. It was real, and that made it better than anything. Kyle and he were truly intertwined; Kyle was truly kissing him, and it was all of Stan’s dreams come true. It felt like acceptance, as if the gods were telling him that everything was going to be okay and that he belonged in the Elven Kingdom.
They separated, but Stan couldn’t bear to be separated, so he leaned in once again. He held Kyle’s face flush against his own before moving his hands upwards, holding onto Kyle’s curls. Eventually, Kyle drew back, and when Stan tried to chase his lips, Kyle held his face.
“Stan,” Kyle said, and Stan shook his head.
“Come on,” Stan whispered, but Kyle stayed stern.
“Listen, won’t you? This is important.”
“Yes, my king.” Kyle rolled his eyes and admitted,
“I love you, Stan. We’re going to war, and I’m responsible for everyone, but all I can think of and worry about is you. I love you so, so much, and if you die and—”
“You love me?”
“Well, yes.”
“I love you,” Stan replied, and nothing had felt as true as those words. “I’d choose you over everything and anything.”
“I’d do the same.”
“I don’t want you to.” Stan pulled Kyle in and hugged him tight, desperate to chain his soul to his body and to keep Kyle from death. “I want you to pick yourself over me every time, the way kings do. So that you can live a long, happy life and that I can protect you.”
“Can’t I protect you?” Stan laughed into Kyle’s shoulder and felt a slight wetness before realizing that he was silently crying.
“We protect each other,” Stan said, though he would never allow Kyle to protect him.
“Okay,” Kyle said, and Stan lightly kissed along his neck. The war didn’t matter, not at all. The entire council could walk in, and Stan wouldn’t care. Nothing mattered because Stan loved Kyle, and Kyle loved him back.