Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Grand Wizard King’s plan was, in Gregory’s honest opinion, stupid at best and a malicious lie at worst. He’d raved for years about how much he hated the elves, going so far as to have a song commissioned about how their former queen was a bitch. He had a similar sentiment towards her son, the current ruler. The war between humans and elves had raged on and off for decades, something Gregory was all too familiar with from his military days. Yet now the Grand Wizard wanted their kingdoms to be united.

He’d summoned Gregory and Princess Kenny just a week prior. There was a gleam in his eye that Gregory had learned to never trust.

“You know how a bunch of our peasants stole the Stick of Truth and fucked off?” the Grand Wizard had said.

“Considering how you don’t shut up about it? Yeah, I know,” the princess replied.

“I believe the troubling situation concerning the Nyght Kingdom is on everyone’s minds,” Gregory said. The Grand Wizard rolled his eyes at that.

“Ugh, do not give them any credit by calling them a fucking kingdom. Just because some shitty little thief managed to—”

“Feldspar was quite renowned, actually,” Gregory interrupted. This earned him a threatening glare from the Grand Wizard.

“God, what is with you and defending them? They’re just dumbasses who just got lucky.” Gregory bit his tongue, knowing he was on thin ice. He’d hardly call his brilliant strategy for swiping the Stick just getting lucky. It was some of the most precise planning he’d ever done, in fact. Too bad he’d been betrayed the moment his plan was executed.

“I just don’t think they should be underestimated,” Gregory said and left it at that. The princess, surprisingly, nodded in agreement.

“There’s definitely more to them than meets the eye,” she said. “And if they’re really serious about wanting to destroy Kupa, which they seem to be, we can’t just ignore them. We gotta do something.”

“Well, my dear Kenny,” the Grand Wizard grinned, “that’s exactly what I wanted to talk with you about today. I’ve got a kickass plan.”

With the new Nyght Kingdom on the rise and in possession of the Stick of Truth, their two kingdoms (the humans of Kupa Keep and the elves of Larnion) were in a temporary truce and now on their way to a wary alliance. Gregory enjoyed the relative peace– he found the elves fascinating and loved learning about their culture. The partnership lasting beyond the defeat of the Nyght Kingdom would be a dream come true. Still, he was incredibly suspicious when the Grand Wizard declared he also wanted that and that the best way to seal a lasting alliance would be union between Kupa’s own princess and the high elf king himself.

Well, she wasn’t originally Kupa’s. The princess once had her own kingdom called Sony, but after Kupa had defeated it, the Grand Wizard shockingly let her continue to rule alongside him. Gregory suspected it was because he could tell how much the public adored the princess and hoped to boost his own image simply by associating himself with her. Now he hoped to use her yet again in what Gregory was certain was a plot to take over and destroy the elven kingdom. The princess usually kept much of her face obscured which made her difficult to read, so Gregory couldn’t tell if she knew the Grand Wizard’s intentions. The mischievous twinkle in her eye made him believe she did but didn’t care, or had another agenda all her own.

Despite his suspicions and distaste for the plan, as top royal advisor, Gregory had to accompany the Grand Wizard and Princess Kenny on their journey to Larnion. He was also an unofficial bodyguard, in case their paladin proved insufficient, which happened more often than it should. If the princess didn’t have a soft spot for him and the Grand Wizard didn’t find him so easily manipulatable, Gregory was sure the paladin would’ve been banished years ago. There was something about the two Kupa rulers that irked him and he wished more than anything that La Resistance had worked out.

Instead, he learned too late that what they ultimately wanted and what he wanted were two different things. At least they’d respected his wishes to refuse to join them when he found out. Perhaps it was his fault though for never stressing that the goal of La Resistance was reform, not destruction.

Maybe this alliance is for the best , Gregory thought as he pulled aside the curtain in the carriage to stare at the elven palace as they approached. The elves have a way of ruling that I’ve always appreciated. I could use this as an excuse to implement changes in Kupa, or worst case scenario, defect entirely. The latter didn’t appeal to Gregory, though, because he felt defecting was akin to admitting defeat. It was a coward’s way out, to use his connections to abandon Kupa and its citizens, rescuing only himself. Besides, even if he wouldn’t admit it outloud, what Gregory really wanted was to be in charge himself. He knew he’d need advisors and allies to keep track of an entire kingdom, but he couldn’t trust anyone but himself to be the one creating a truly fair system.

“Ey, close that, would you?” The Grand Wizard rapped the end of his staff on the back of Gregory’s hand that held the curtain open. “I don’t want street elves getting a view inside here.”

“Don’t you want to see the city surrounding the palace? It’s quite nice.” Gregory looked at the princess. “I’m sure you do, your highness, seeing how you’ll likely be living here soon.”

“Just let Cartman have what he wants,” the princess sighed, waving her hand dismissively. “He’s already in a mood just being here and I don’t want to make it worse. There’s so much of the trip still left.”

“I am NOT in a mood!” The Grand Wizard glared at the princess. “It doesn’t hurt to be cautious, Kenny! What if the elves already sided with the Nyght Kingdom, huh?”

“Intel says they haven’t,” Gregory said.

“Yeah, well, intel changes,” the Grand Wizard huffed, arms crossed in a pout because he knew Gregory was right and there wasn’t much anything to say to refute it. The princess still gave Gregory a look that made him sigh and close the curtain.

Once the carriage stopped, the paladin (who had been riding up front with the driver) rushed to open the door and announce each of them as they stepped out. The first thing Gregory noticed was how wonderfully fresh the air was. 

All around them were trees, bushes, and other greenery that embellished the front of the palace. It brightened his mood immediately, making him forget about how much of a pain the stupid carriage had been, especially when he was trapped with two of his least favorite people. He took a deep breath, relishing in the sweet aroma of the colorful flowers dotting the lawn. 

Gregory had been to the palace years ago, a young noble attending a gathering with his parents, and wondered if the ground had always always been this lovely. It would be unlike him to forget such a detail.

The second thing Gregory noticed was how disappointing the welcome party was.

Calling it a welcome party was too generous, actually, since the only person waiting for them was a man that Gregory had a strained acquaintanceship with at best.

“Ah, Stan Marshwalker! It’s been a while!” The Grand Wizard grinned as innocently as he could and clapped the ranger on his shoulder. Stan bit back a grimace.

“Hey Cartman.”

“Uh, it’s Grand Wizard King Cartman, actually. Or ‘your grand wizardness’.”

“I’m not calling you that.” Stan turned to the princess and bowed his head. “Your highness.”

“Hello Stan,” the princess smiled. The ranger smiled back. Gregory had once heard that they’d known each other as children in the kingdom of Sony, but when it fell, Stan fled and sought shelter with the elves. Anyone with a grudge against Kupa had been a friend to the elves back then, even if they were human. It was how Stan of Sony had become Stan Marshwalker, Larnion’s top ranger and the high elf king’s right hand man. He fancied himself an excellent strategist, supposedly, but every one of his plans that Gregory had had the misfortune of deciphering were terribly convoluted and confusing.

“So where’s your little king?” The Grand Wizard, obviously upset with the preferential treatment towards the princess, made a show of looking around at nothing. “We better not have come all this way for us to not even talk to him. That’d be so like Kyle though, to do that. Fucking elves, am I right?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Stan scowled. “Ky– I mean, the king is waiting for you in the garden. He just sent me out to get you. You can follow me.” He turned, then looked back over his shoulder. “And stay on the pathways. The royal gardener doesn’t want people walking on the grass and flowers and stuff.” Stan gestured for them to follow as he walked on a stone-lined dirt path around the side of the palace. Gregory walked next to him and stuck out his hand.

“I don’t believe we got to say hello, by the way.” He hoped that was a subtle enough way to let Stan know it had been rude to ignore him. Ignoring the paladin, understandable, but Gregory was a noble.

“Oh.” Stan looked at his hand, then sighed and shook it. “Yeah. Hi Gregory.”

“Of Yardale.”

“I don’t really do titles, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Hard to believe the king lets his royal advisor get away with that.”

“I’m not his royal advisor.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m his—” Stan paused his stride momentarily, thinking, then shook his head and continued on. “We don’t have the same political system as Kupa, you know.”

“I’m well aware,” Gregory sighed, wishing that the Grand Wizard and princess weren’t in such close range. Even if they seemed distracted, the princess and the paladin attempting to quiet the Grand Wizard’s complaining, he knew now was a bad time to say any of his true thoughts. 

Instead, he turned his attention back to the grounds, which were lush with plants of all kinds. Everywhere he looked was beautiful, but not in a forced and sterilized way. It was a little wild, but not in an overwhelming sense. More like whatever natural biodiversity there was had been nurtured and taught to compliment itself.

“You mentioned something about a royal gardener?” Gregory asked Stan. “They’ve done wonders around here.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty good,” Stan shrugged.

“I would love to meet him,” Gregory smiled. “I think Kupa could greatly benefit from any horticultural insight he’d be willing to share.”

“I mean, if you start talking to him about dirt and soil types he won’t shut up but…” Stan laughed awkwardly. “You probably don’t actually want to meet him. He’s kind of… intense.”

“How so?” Gregory asked. Before Stan could answer him, he heard the Grand Wizard say from behind him “Oh, there he is.” Indeed, a little ways in front of them, sat King Kyle at a table in a clearing. He noticed them and waved. Stan waved back, a proud smile on his face, before the Grand Wizard pushed past him and started to walk directly over to the king.

“Cartman, wait, you gotta stay on the path!” Stan called as the Grand Wizard was about to ignore the curve needed to get to Kyle and instead cut through a bed of soft blue flowers. The Grand Wizard flipped Stan off and proceeded to take his step off the dirt path. From seemingly out of nowhere, a man appeared and shoved the Grand Wizard back onto the path via a shovel to the gut. The Grand Wizard nearly fell, stumbling as he tripped on his robes, then turned to glare at the man brandishing the shovel, held pointed at his neck like a threat.

“Ey! You dare to lay a fucking hand on me? I’ll smite you right now, I swear to Dai!”

“Try eet, beetch,” the man snarled. The Grand Wizard let out a frustrated yell as he raised his staff.

“Stop!” The king ran from around the bend and placed himself between the Grand Wizard and the man. Stan quickly jumped in front of the king, his sword drawn.

“Oh jeez,” the paladin said. He fumbled to draw his own weapon, but the princess put a hand on his shoulder and shook her head. The paladin looked uncertain but stood down. This was already a diplomatic disaster, but there was no need to exacerbate it. The Grand Wizard still held his staff aloft, but when he realized none of the rest of them were jumping to assist him, his resolve wavered a bit.

“Kyle, tell your rabid bitch to heel and MAYBE I won’t smite him.”

“Shut up, fatass!” The king glared at the Grand Wizard, but turned around to face the man anyway. “Christophe, please, calm down.” The man, Christophe, glanced at the king, then turned his attention to Stan.

“Didn’t you warn zem?”

“Of course I warned them!” Stan rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you hear me yell at Cartman right before he stepped off the path?”

“You should ‘ave stopped ‘im instead of just yelling zen!”

“Christophe!” The king placed a hand on Christophe’s shoulder, sighed, and spoke in a softer tone. “It’s okay. Cartman is going to be careful from now on. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Gregory noticed how Christophe relaxed at the king’s touch and how the king rubbed his thumb on Christophe's shoulder. He had a bit of a guilty look as he did, likely related to how Stan broke his concentration on the Grand Wizard to frown at the bit of affection. Gregory decided to simply raise an eyebrow and say nothing. As long as Larnion’s emotional affairs didn’t interfere with their politics, it wasn’t any of his business.

“... d’accord,” Christophe muttered, a word Gregory didn’t understand. He knew some high, proper elvish, was this perhaps an offshoot dialect of it? It might explain the man’s odd accent too.

“Can you put the shovel down?” the king asked. Christophe slowly lowered the shovel and put it in a sling that went across his back. The Grand Wizard, satisfied with this, put down his staff.

“Glad to see you’ve got your dogs well whipped. Nice work, Kyle.”

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Cartman!” The king pushed past Stan to shove a finger at the Grand Wizard’s chest. “You come to my kingdom, blatantly disobey the rules that m y ranger gave you, and then insult and threaten my royal gardener?! You’re so—!” The king balled his fists and yelled in lieu of completing his sentence. Stan placed a hand on his shoulder and the king sighed, relaxing at Stan’s touch, but his smile seemed strained when he turned to face the Kupa nobles.

“Paladin Butters the Merciful. Gregory of Yardale. Princess Kenny,” he said, a small bow accompanying each of their names. “Welcome to Larnion. If you agree to be civil, I’m willing to enter into talks of a union with Kupa against the Nyght Kingdom. How about over lunch?” The king walked down the path, careful to follow the curve back towards the table he had been sitting at earlier. Stan followed right at his heels and Christophe shot them a warning glare before walking down a side path Gregory now realized he’d run in on. The Grand Wizard let out a low whistle and rocked on his heels.

“Well, this turned into kind of a shitshow, huh?” he muttered. “We’ve been here for five minutes and I’ve nearly been assassinated twice. Fucking elves, I’m telling you.”

“I don’t mean disrespect,” Gregory muttered, absolutely meaning disrespect, “but I’d hardly call it ‘assassination’ when you’re the one who provoked them.”

“Wha– I did not! It’s Kyle’s fault for hiring a fucking bastard. Feral halfbreed bitch, threatening me with a damn shovel...”

“He may have been a bit aggressive, but there’s no reason to call the man a ‘halfbreed bitch’,” Gregory frowned.

“I’m being literal, okay ass-munch?” The Grand Wizard rolled his eyes and grabbed Gregory’s face, turning him to look at Christophe. He was kneeling by a bush, half tending to it, half watching their group. “Look, see those ears?” As much as it hurt to admit, the Grand Wizard was right. Gregory didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed earlier, but plain as day, he now saw that Christophe’s ears were pointed, like all elves, but they were also rather… short.

“My God, he’s a half-elf,” Gregory mumbled.

“And kind of a catch,” the princess said. “Look how broad his shoulders are. You can really see the muscles under that peasant shirt. Think he gets all sweaty, being out here all day?”

“Goddamn it, Kenny,” the Grand Wizard said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can’t start fucking the staff until AFTER you’re married to Kyle, okay? Also, you can do better than him. He’s covered in dirt, like a… mole or something. C’mon.” He walked down the path, correctly this time, and the princess followed him. She nudged Gregory as she passed him, eyes darting in the direction of Christophe, and she winked.

“You see what I’m saying, don’t you?” she said, a smile in her eyes. The paladin dutifully trailed after her and left Gregory to bring up the rear. He tried his best to not stare at Christophe’s short ears, not wanting to be rude, but it left him staring at the man’s shoulders instead. The princess was right–

they were quite broad.

Chapter Text

King Kyle, like Gregory had always known and expected, was an incredible host and the most pleasant person he’d talked to all day. He was smart and actually well versed in the politics of the whole situation with the Nyght Kingdom, the implications beyond just the destruction of Kupa. All of Zaron’s kingdoms could be wiped out, maybe even the dwarves and Moorish beyond the sea. It’d been centuries since they’d had any contact with them, but Gregory had no doubt that what the Nyght Kingdom planned to do would affect more than their continent.

Kupa and Larnion needed allies if they were to stand any chance at keeping the worst from coming to be. And, once whatever they were to face against the Nyght Kingdom was over, it would be for the best if they remained permanent allies.

“No one would be happier than me for our kingdoms to be joined together forever,” the Grand Wizard said, his voice dripping with fake sincerity that no one at the table bought. “What’s more forever than marriage? That’s right– nothing. And it’s come to my attention that you, Kyle, are single.”

The Grand Wizard had that glint in his eyes— his matchmaking glint. Gregory felt his stomach lurch and his fists tighten reactionarily. This hobby was far from the worst of the Grand Wizard’s, but it was certainly the one that upset Gregory the most. Not without reason, of course. He did his best to try and calm his shaking. Thankfully, if anyone even noticed his momentary panic attack, they said nothing.

“I know your picky ass won’t settle for anything less than perfect,” the Grand Wizard continued, “and I’m sure you’ll find no one is more beautiful than our own Princess Kenny. You two would be so perfect for each other and, maybe one day, you could have your own little halfbreeds running around. I noticed you’re fond of them.” 

The king narrowed his eyes. “If you insult my royal gardener one more time, I’m going to put an arrow through your fucking throat, Cartman.”

“Whoa, I know you elves are an… emotionally volatile kind, but no need to get all that sand in your vagina.” The Grand Wizard held his hands up in mock innocence. “I have nothing but respect for, uh, Christopher.”

“Christophe,” Gregory corrected, earning an appreciative smile from the king.

“Yeah, yeah. Christophe.” The Grand Wizard barely held back an eye roll. “He’s so good at… digging in dirt.”

“What the Grand Wizard means,” Gregory sighed, “is that your grounds are beautiful. You did a wonderful job in selecting him, it’s clear that he’s very talented and knowledgeable. I was saying as much to Stan earlier.”

“I think so too,” the princess said, pushing her chair back and standing. “Actually, I was wondering if I could see more of it? There was some sort of rose hedge maze that looked promising.” She batted her lashes, gazing at the king with eyes that sparkled with mischievousness. “Could you take me there, Kyle? We could talk along the way.” There was definitely something going on, some agenda the princess had that was all her own, because the Grand Wizard clearly hadn’t anticipated her going off alone with the king. The uncertainty in his expression was fleeting, quickly replaced by a confidence that came with convincing himself that things were still going according to his plan. The king seemed to pick up on the princess’ strange actions too, as he stood, clearly intrigued.

“Sure, Kenny, I know exactly where you’re talking about.” He turned to Stan, who had stood behind him the entire time. “We’ll be going alone.”

“Alone?” Stan looked terrified by this prospect. “Wha– Kyle, you can’t seriously be—”

“I can handle myself, Stan. I’m just going to show Kenny around a little.” The king reached up to touch Stan’s shoulder, though nearly overshot it, as if he’d been aiming for his cheek. He corrected himself though. “Trust me.”

“I trust you,” Stan said.

“And I trust you,” the king smiled. “I need someone to make sure our guests are alright while I’m not here.” His gaze shifted to the Grand Wizard, who smiled innocently and tried to bat his lashes like the princess had. It did not have the same effect. Stan nodded, understanding the king, who then walked to the princess and offered his arm. She giggled and took it, letting him lead her away.

The air at the table grew awkward and tense without the pair there and Gregory wasn’t even sure if it was worth starting a conversation. Luckily (and suspiciously), the Grand Wizard broke the tension by loudly clearing his throat.

“Speaking of being shown places, anywhere around here that I could take a crap? That elf shit goes right through me, I swear.”

“Gross,” Stan said.

“I’m serious! Maybe your stomach has adapted to the food, but not mine,” the Grand Wizard said. “And while the princess and Kyle are gone…” Gregory felt him kick the paladin under the table. “I think now would be the best time for me to go take a crap. Tell me where I can go.”

“You’re not allowed to just wander off to ‘go take a crap’ unsupervised,” Stan said.

“Then I’ll shit in the garden. I swear I will, don’t test me.”

“I hate that I know you’re right,” Stan muttered. “Fine.” He looked at Gregory, eyes pleading with him to behave. Gregory scoffed in response, insulted that Stan even had to ask. “Alright. Cartman, you’re walking in front of me the whole way. I want to be able to see you at all times.”

“What, even in the bathroom? Is that some kind of elven culture thing?”

“Gods, just shut up already.” Stan pulled the Grand Wizard out of his seat and dragged him down a path back towards the palace. When they seemed far enough away, the paladin stood up.

“Where are you going?” Gregory asked, though he was certain he already knew the answer.

“Oh, well, I-I also gotta, um, take a crap,” the paladin stuttered. “I’ll be right back!” He proceeded to speed walk in the direction that the princess and the king had gone. Gregory sighed and took a final sip of the tea he had in front of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a figure moving stealthily in the same direction, body language suggesting that he was ready to strike.

“You don’t need to do that,” Gregory said. “The king isn’t in any danger.” The figure stopped, surprised that it had been caught, and Gregory glanced over to confirm his suspicions of who it was. The royal gardener stood straighter, out of his stealthy state, regarding Gregory with suspicion.

“Why should I listen to you?”

“Because I’m being perfectly candid with you,” Gregory said. “I doubt that the paladin is going to attack King Kyle. And even if he did, I’m certain the king could handle him. Our paladin is rather worthless.” Christophe seemed amused by this response and walked over to the table.

“For ze royal advisor, you don’t ‘ave very nice zings to say about other Kupa people.”

“Oh I have plenty of wonderful things to say about the people of Kupa,” Gregory said. “Its nobility… well.”

“You say zat as eef you are not a noble.”

“There’s always exceptions. I happen to be one of them.” Gregory sat a little straighter and did his best to regard Christophe with an air of aloofness, but couldn’t look at him without his eyes wandering to his ears. All the elves he’d ever known had pointed ears, the tips extending about five centimeters longer than a typical human. It was a bit jarring to see that typical pointed end on such a small ear. Christophe’s brunette hair was a bit long and shaggy. He could hide it, if he wanted to, and pass as human. His ears stuck out a bit, but not too much. Christophe smirked and pointed at the ears, making Gregory blush and immediately avert his eyes.

“You’re curious, pas vrai?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Ah, ‘pas vrai’ ees like saying ‘right?’ or ‘correct?’ after a sentence. Eet’s rhetorical.”

“Thank you for the language lesson,” Gregory said, genuinely, “though you know that’s not what I was referring to.”

“And now you know zat what I said was rhetorical so I know you’re just being stupid on purpose… pas vrai?” The grin on Christophe’s face infuriated Gregory more than he could articulate.

“Ha,” he chose to say instead. “Clever, I’ll grant you that. And I’m only curious in the sense that I’ve never seen a half-elf before. Heard of, certainly, but never seen. Honestly, I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Oh? And why not?” Christophe cocked his head slightly, the corner of his mouth upturned in a curious smile. “Do you zink elf biology ees really so different? ‘ave zey taught you nothing over een Kupa?”

“Wha– no!” Gregory would not stand for defamation of his character or the integrity of his education being questioned. “I know plenty about elven biology!”

“You know everything, hm? Like ze ‘eart size difference?”

“Everyone knows that, it’s for magic capacity reasons—”

“And ze ears?”

“Yes, past generations of forest dwelling required better ability to hear far away so—”

“What an elven dick looks like?”

“Of course I know what an elven—” Gregory puckered his lips inward to stop himself from talking as he had the sudden realization that Christophe was barely holding in his laughter. He was fucking with him. With an angry huff, Gregory turned away from the gardener. Christophe clucked his tongue and walked to the table, turning a chair around and sitting on it backward. He leaned forward and grinned at Gregory.

“Sticking your nose up at me already, mon ami? What ‘appened to being ze exception?”

“I believe I have a right to avoid someone actively mocking me,” Gregory grumbled. He shot Christophe a warning glare but the man’s grin didn’t waver. Fine, Gregory thought, if the gardener wants to play dirty, I’ll play dirty.

There wasn’t much he knew about the man, except that it clearly took a lot to rattle him. Not to mention he had absolutely no respect for social structure and nobility. Thinking on that, an idea began to form in Gregory’s head. He knew it was impolite to meddle in affairs that were none of his business but… sometimes one had to disregard politeness. He did his best to keep his expression only slightly judgemental.

“You don’t have much respect for nobles, do you?”

“Très bien! You’re correct.”

“And yet–” it took every ounce of Gregory’s willpower to not smirk as he said this “– you were so quick to listen to King Kyle earlier. Funny how people turn into such hypocrites when they’re desperately in love. Especially when he doesn’t return your feelings.” 

The way Christophe’s grin dropped and how he blanched, shaken when confronted with a truth he thought he’d hidden so well, made Gregory feel simultaneously incredibly pleased and incredibly guilty. Neither side truly won out so he hid his emotion in a sip from the cup in front of him, waiting for Christophe to deny it even though they both already knew it to be true. Christophe opened his mouth a few times but each time bit back his words, trying to formulate how to respond to Gregory. Eventually, he settled on an irritated sigh.

“So what, you zink you’ve got me pegged? I’m just some lovesick hypocrite beetch?”

“A one time action does not make a whole man. I’m simply stating what I’ve noticed.”

“Eet’s zat obvious?”

“Not to the unobservant,” Gregory assured him. The guilt was starting to win out. “Or even the mildly observant. I just… make a habit of noticing things.”

“Oh yeah? Zen you might ‘ave noticed zat your plan to ‘ave ze princess marry Kyle ees stupid. ‘e will not go for eet.” Christophe’s tone had soured and Gregory was now certainly feeling guilty that he had so quickly broken him. Their back and forth had actually been nice, especially when Gregory could tell there was no real bite to it.

Feldspar used to make quick jabs at him, before defecting to the Nyght Kingdom to serve as Clyde’s right hand man. The princess would occasionally drop a single comment that would shake Gregory but she never followed up. A good banter required a conversation partner just as witty and Christophe had potential to be just that. So long as Gregory got back on his good side.

“Yes, it does seem that the king is less single than the Grand Wizard presumed,” Gregory mused. “Are he and Stan an open secret around here?” Christophe made a “sort of” gesture with his hand. Gregory nodded. Perhaps more of an actual (though poorly kept) secret. 

“There’s a chance the princess noticed too,” Gregory said. “She does know Stan well, after all. And she’s the observant type, like me.” He frowned, studying Christophe beyond his short pointed ears and broad shoulders. The man had the idea of a beard on his face, stubble forming something, and his arms and part of his chest seemed rather hairy as well. It was another thing that hinted at his human heritage– elves tended to be more on the hairless side in terms of body hair. He was dirty, like the Grand Wizard had crassly pointed out, but suited him. Made him smell like the earth he worked, a vaguely fresh and homey scent.

Gregory felt compelled to reach out and so he did, gently touching Christophe’s arm. Christophe recoiled, but his expression softened into confusion when he saw how Gregory was looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“I…” Gregory didn’t have an answer and he didn’t feel the need to create one. He withdrew his hand and changed the subject instead. “Princess Kenny… She’s someone to watch out for. I feel as though she has some agenda other than marriage. The Grand Wizard likely does as well and his is obviously bad, but hers… I can’t say. She’s an enigma to me.”

“Ah bon?” The way Christophe said the strange words made Gregory assume he wanted more of an explanation.

“We’re quite disjointed,” he admitted. “At this point, the kingdom is held together by military control. I don’t know how much longer Kupa can last under the two of them.”

“What about you? Why don’t you change zings?”

“If it were that simple. I’m just an advisor. As things are, the Grand Wizard and the princess are the only ones with actual influence and control. They don’t have to listen to me. In fact, I wouldn’t be shocked if I learned they never have.”

Now it was Gregory’s turn to feel upset. Given a crumb of attention and ready to cry to practically a stranger, let loose his greatest secret of failed rebellion and what it had turned out to be. Years of hopes and dreams, wasted. The way Christophe’s expression shifted, curious pity, had Gregory longing to confess about La Resistance and his regretful hand in the rise of the Nyght Kingdom. It wasn’t like him to be so forthcoming with such sensitive information but he had no one anymore. Gregory was in desperate need of a confidant, or at the very least a friend.

Sadly, instead, he heard approaching voices behind him. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that it was Stan and the Grand Wizard returning from where they had been. Christophe looked like he wanted to talk further and unpack whatever Gregory had just dropped on him, but understood from the way Gregory tensed that that subject was done. Instead Christophe reached out and touched his arm, like Gregory had just done for him. What it meant for Christophe, Gregory couldn’t say, but he was deeply appreciative of the gesture.

“Oh my god, seriously? Not you too!” The Grand Wizard made an overexaggerated gagging noise at the two of them as he and Stan approached. “Kenny drooling over the halfbreed is fucking bad enough, but Gregory, can you go be a fag with LITERALLY anyone else?” Gregory made a series of incredulous sputters of denial while Stan glared at the Grand Wizard.

“I’m telling Kyle you insulted the gardener again.”

“Are you gonna tell him before, after, or while you have gay butt sex with him?” The Grand Wizard laughed at his joke, which distracted him from catching the panicked look that flitted across Stan’s face, briefly terrified that the Grand Wizard actually picked up on their affections. He hadn’t. “Besides, you’re calling him ‘the gardener’, Stan, so you obviously don’t think highly of him either.”

“That’s not true!” Stan said, but he only seemed to convince himself of that. One glance at Christophe, whose expression had soured, confirmed that the Grand Wizard did at least pick up on something. There was clearly some complicated tension between the two, likely mediated by the king. Stan may have won, and Christophe begrudgingly acknowledged it, but Stan nonetheless being a jealous lover wouldn’t surprise Gregory.

“Hey wait,” Stan said, recovering from being called out earlier, “where’s Butters?” The Grand Wizard offered an intelligent “Um” for an answer. Stan’s eyes turned to Gregory who gave a semi-truthful shrug. He could only guess as to where the paladin was, guesses that were most certainly the truth, but no concrete facts. Only Christophe had a helpful reply, pointing down one of the paths where the princess and king were returning, the paladin nervously fidgeting with his hands as he followed the pair. The princess had a rose in her hand that she kept twirling with her gloved fingers, a souvenir from their walk.

“Oh good, you’re all still here,” the king said once he, the princess, and the paladin reached the rest of the group.

“I thought you guys wanted to go alone,” Stan frowned, gesturing to the paladin.

“He just went wandering and happened to bump into us,” the princess said. She took her rose and bopped the petals lightly on the paladin’s face. “Isn’t that right, cupcake?” He nodded, blushing and avoiding eye contact with everyone. Before Stan could question the very thin cover story, the king cleared his throat.

“Anyway, like I said, it’s good that you’re all here. We have some news to share. I’ve talked over Kenny’s proposal and—”

“We’re gettin’ hitched!” The princess whooped and threw an arm around the king. The betrayal on the Larnion residents’ faces was only rivaled by the shock on those from Kupa's. No one had anticipated this to actually happen, except the look the princess gave Gregory made him dread that she did, indeed, have grander plans than marriage. A knot formed in his stomach. 

Staying on his toes and watching out for the Grand Wizard was emotionally taxing enough, but now the princess was looking to start something? Something she thought him worthy enough to be teased with but not worthy enough to be let in on? Truly, Gregory was on his own.

Chapter Text

The engagement announcement shocked both Christophe and Stan. Never had they suspected that the king would accept a marriage proposal from anyone besides the loyal ranger, let alone a human woman that ruled Larnion’s oldest rival. The rest of the afternoon felt hazy, like a bad dream, padding behind the group of nobles as Kyle showed all of them around the palace, inside and outside.

The princess hung on his arm and didn’t speak much except an occasional snarky comment that never failed to make Kyle laugh. That fat wizard, Cartman, was paying a little too much attention to everything, sizing up the sparring knights they passed and staring at the walls too long to be considered simple appreciation. The paladin, like the royal advisor had said, was little more than a bumbling idiot, needing to constantly be nudged forward, too in his own head.

Then there was Gregory of Yardale, as Kyle had called him. He was just a bit too eager to please for Christophe’s liking. There had been a flicker of genuine emotion on his face when he learned of the engagement before he replaced it with a tight smile and congratulations. Now, he was the only one listening to Kyle explain the history of the palace, actively engaging with him and asking questions. Gone was the moment of seemingly mutual sympathy in bitterness and isolation they’d shared.

As strange as it was for Christophe to admit, he felt in that moment that the only one he could trust was Stan. Any unwarranted jealousy or petty rivalry was put aside and they instead united in the one thing they agreed on. Throughout the whole tour, they constantly shared a look that said what they were both feeling but couldn’t bring themselves to voice:

What the fuck was Kyle playing at?

As the day reached late afternoon, Kyle sent the Kupa guests to rooms he’d prepared for them in the palace and promised to see them for dinner. Stan placed a hand on Christophe’s shoulder and whispered.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna ask him.”

“S’te,” Christophe said. “And let me know what ‘e says?”

“Uh-huh,” Stan nodded, then followed as Kyle walked off towards his own room, leaving Christophe alone. He could go to his room, which was just a cot in the garden shed at his own insistence, but he was too on edge to lie down.

In his pockets he felt the polished wooden pipe and the small bag of dried leaves he always kept on him. That was always an option. After only a moment more of consideration, Christophe found his way to the nearest window and packed his pipe. He lit the leaves with a small metal box, enchanted with a bit of fire magic, and took a drag of the pipe.

Smoking usually helped calm his thoughts, or his hands if he needed them steady for a tricky gardening job. Various people had commented that it probably wasn’t great for his health, to be so reliant on smoking to calm him down, but that wasn’t going to stop him. At least the leaves he used weren’t the kind that made you a drowsy or loopy sort of relaxed.

Perhaps Stan knew Christophe better than he wanted him to, because he didn’t seem surprised to find him smoking by the window. He didn’t even seem like he’d been searching for long. Tapping out the ash from the pipe, Christophe raised a questioning eyebrow. Stan fidgeted, looking around like he was unsure.

“Are you going to stand zere like an idiot or tell me what ‘e said?” Christophe said, finally breaking Stan from his awkwardness. He seemed to want to snap back but couldn’t think of what to say, so instead he crossed his arms, annoyed.

“Kyle is summoning you,” he mumbled. “I mean, he’s summoning both of us but I was sent to get you.” Christophe stood up straighter. In all his time working for Kyle, he’d never been summoned before. Asked to meet, yes, but not summoned. It had a heavy implication to it, the weight of importance and possibly bad news. If Stan knew what this was about, he didn’t give it away which led Christophe to believe they were both in the dark.

They walked in silence, down halls and past rooms Christophe hadn’t realized the palace had, until they reached an odd door. It was obviously a door in the sense that it was shaped like a door and was a different texture from the wall around it, but lacked a knob. There weren’t even hinges. Stan took a small vial of something out of his pocket, poured a drop on his fingertip, and smeared it across the face of the door. It groaned as it slid open, revealing a modest room with not much more than a table, chairs, and torches providing light since there weren’t windows. Five people sat at the table, in the middle of light discussion, but they looked up once Stan and Christophe entered. The door slid shut behind them.

“Why on Zaron is the gardener here?” a blond elf huffed, crossing his arms. Christophe recognized him as Chris Donnely, or Don as most others called him, head warrior under Duke Bradley. He had a rather holier than thou attitude that Christophe hated and his voice and blond curls were reminding him a bit too much of the uppity Kupa royal advisor Gregory at the moment.

“Ch-Chill out. I think he’s c-c-co… cool,” Jimmy grinned. He should have stuck out just as much as Christophe, being not much more than a bard. Instead he looked rather comfortable, actually, leaning back in a chair with his crutches propped against the wall behind him. As if he’d been in this secret room a hundred times before. Maybe there was more to him than Christophe realized.

“Yeah, and Kyle obviously does too if he’s here,” Ike said, looking at his brother for confirmation. Kyle nodded back in agreement.

“No one is here by mistake,” Kyle said. “Christophe, Stan, please take a seat.” They sat at empty chairs, Stan beside Kyle and Christophe next to Leslie. She smiled at him but there was no warmth behind it. Much about her lacked warmth. Most claimed it was because she was more magic than mortal, with how powerful she had worked to become. Even the most magically ignorant could see how it corrupted her in some way, her speech sounding forced and runes under her skin glowing a dull blue.

“Two new faces in the inner circle,” she said. “Interesting.”

“Interesting ‘ow?” Even if Christophe also felt like he didn’t belong among the others gathered, he wasn’t about to question it out loud. Wait, did she say two? Christophe glanced at Stan who looked back just as confused. They could tell she was referring to him, but it didn’t make sense.

“I’m already in the inner circle!” Stan frowned, but he looked uncertainly at Kyle. “Aren’t I? We don’t have secrets, Ky, you promised.”

“I did.” Kyle looked guilty. “You are already in an inner circle. This is just… a different inner circle. A need-to-know basis kind of inner circle. And now that things are falling into place, I think you both need to know.” Kyle nodded to Leslie, who nodded back and stood.

“Given the fact that we have new guests, I’ll read the prophecy once more before we debate it.” She materialized a book from thin air, opened it to a page, and placed it on the table. Christophe leaned over to look at it, but he couldn’t read what was written. It was an odd language.

“Whoa, wait, there’s a prophecy? Prophecies exist?” Stan furrowed his brow. “Since when?”

“A prophecy is really just anything predicted by magical means,” Kyle said. “This one is a bit more closely guarded than some others though. Elven magic scholars have been working on a translation for ages. It was only recently that Leslie and I finally figured it out, maybe within the last two years.”

“Makes sense you'd be confused though,” Ike said. “Humans don’t naturally have magic so prophecies and that junk probably aren't in your general education like it is for us.” 

“That’s true,” Kyle nodded. “Healers might not even study them. I’m sure wizards like Cartman know about prophecies, maybe even this one, but who knows how close he would be to having it translated.” Stan huffed, still processing this new information.

“Who even wrote this one?”

“It is unclear,” Leslie said. “Some believe one of the immortals did, or the ancient clerics who studied them. Some say it was powerful wizards, like the ancient ruler Dovahkiin. What matters, though, is that it foretells an approaching era of long lasting peace in Zaron.”

“Zat ees never going to ‘appen,” Christophe half laughed. “Not with everyone constantly shitting zemselves over zat stupid Stick.”

“The Stick of Truth is a sacred instrument!” Don glared at him. “You’d be wise to respect its power.”

“Ah, oui, ze incredible power to find water underground. Eef zat impresses you, zere ees a well een town zat will blow your mind.”

“Don’t push him, Christophe,” Kyle sighed. “You know how important the Spring of Truth is to our society.” He did, but he failed to see what made it so worthy of respect. So what if the immortals had some magic water that could cure any disease or bring someone back from the dead? They also decided to be assholes and ban all mortals from using it. Christophe figured they were probably lying about every plant drawing from this water and imbuing the elves with magic. The immortals seemed like nothing but deceitful rat bastards.

“The Stick has power beyond acting as a dowsing rod,” Kyle continued. “The prophecy says that it’ll declare a leader of all of Zaron, someone destined to bring peace. And I have reason to believe that that person… is Princess Kenny.” 

The news came as a shock to Christophe and Stan, but the others had expressions of grim acceptance on their faces. Don seemed pissed at the idea, but bit his tongue and kept his thoughts to himself. The idea of peace in Zaron, of immortals handing down prophecies for idiots to obsess over– it all sounded like bullshit. The rest falling for it, Christophe could believe that, but he had always thought Kyle was smarter than blind faith. Stan beat him to questioning everything though.

“Kenny?! Kenny is supposed to rule all of Zaron?!” Stan shook his head in exasperation. “Dude, I’ve known her since we were babies. No way is Kenny some kind of prophecy chosen one.”

“Oh, but what if she is, Stan Marshwalker?” Leslie picked the book up from off the table and her eyes glowed a dull blue as she read from it. “ The Branch will signal that a great age of peace has begun… when a noble draped in the colors of fire and hair as golden as the sun… shall turn on the Kupa king and work to see him undone… Once the Spring runs in their veins the war shall be won… and all of Zaron shall bow and answer to this one. ” She tilted her head, curious. “Does this not sound like Princess Kenny?” Stan mulled over this new information and Christophe decided to briefly consider it as well. He came to the same conclusion he’d come to earlier.

“Non, eet does not sound like ‘er,” Christophe said. “Sure, she wears orange which ees ze fire and she ‘as blonde ‘air but zat doesn’t mean anything. She ees from Kupa. Zey are all pussies obsessed with control and hierarchy. She’s not going to turn on zat stupid fat king.”

“She’s from Kupa now,” Kyle nodded, “but she wasn’t always. And she hasn’t forgotten that.” He took a deep breath and drummed his fingers on the table. Kyle reached over to take Stan’s hand. He looked slightly surprised, so abruptly pulled from his thoughts and confused denial, but immediately squeezed Kyle’s hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of it. Kyle smiled appreciatively.

“As you two know,” he began, “the Kupa nobles came today to propose a long term alliance which would be sealed via marriage. I had planned on rejecting her but Kenny took me aside and told me that she needs my help.” Kyle paused, as if waiting for someone to ask what for. No one in the room volunteered, but he continued without prompting. “Kenny wants to break away from Kupa and re-establish the kingdom of Sony.” Whatever Christophe would have guessed the princess wanted, bringing back a dead kingdom would’ve been one of his last guesses. The others must’ve known already, as the news did little more than make Jimmy and Ike nod and Don grimace. Stan’s eyes went wide.

“She… She’s going to bring Sony back?” The disbelief and shock were completely gone from his expression, replaced with something akin to hope. Christophe rolled his eyes. People argued that he didn’t belong, being only half elf. Yet they rarely said anything about Stan, fully human, obviously ready to abandon the elves at the single mention of his old kingdom.

“She’s going to try,” Kyle said. “She says it’s miserable there– oppressive taxing, Cartman using citizens as training dummies for his army and magic guinea pigs, burning books, a rigid class structure where the top have absolute control. Kenny can’t stand her former citizens being subjected to his tyranny anymore. She wants them out from under Cartman’s rule, even if it means a civil war that could destroy Kupa.”

“What makes ‘er plan so different from ze, ah, Nyght ‘kingdom’ zen?” Christophe asked. “Aren’t zey just a bunch of Kupa beetches ‘oo ‘ad enough of ze bullshit and now want to destroy Kupa?” The glare that Don gave him as he stood and slammed his hands on the table was vicious. If he cared about the man in any way, Christophe might’ve felt threatened. Maybe even flinched.

“I knew it was a bad idea to bring some ignorant gardener into this,” he sneered. “Leslie, wipe his memory and send him out!”

“Absolutely not!” Kyle yelled. “Don’t act like you’re so special– you only get to be here because Bradley isn’t and you’re his right hand. Now sit the fuck down or I’ll throw you out and have Ike report back instead!” Kyle’s tone rattled Don and he slowly obeyed. Christophe couldn’t help but grin. The whole world could be against him but he knew Kyle would still stand up for him. Or, the whole world minus one person. Specifically the person at the table who was scooting closer to Kyle, his possessive hand tightening its grip on their already interlaced fingers.

“You misunderstand, gardener,” Leslie said, tilting her head slightly as she stared at Christophe. “Nyght not only wishes to wipe Kupa from the land of Zaron, but us elves as well. They seek to eliminate all magic from existence by poisoning the Spring of Truth.” 

A chill passed through Christophe’s body. He didn’t believe much in immortals and prophecies, and sometimes he even doubted that the Spring existed. It was a sacrilegious thought to have but he remained skeptical– cynical, even. However, on the chance that there was a hint of truth to it all, then harming that water meant killing all the plants. Plants he’d worked tirelessly to grow and care for. That was something worth protecting.

The rest of the meeting was spent debating how close Princess Kenny should be to the prophecy. Did she already know? (Likely not, they all decided.) Should they tell her? Don and Jimmy argued they shouldn’t, while Stan claimed she had a right to know. Ike and Christophe shrugged indifferently, but ultimately Leslie ruled that they shouldn’t and Kyle signed off on it. He would find out if she knew anything later, when they were alone, and they would proceed from there.

Eventually, the meeting finished as the time drew closer to dinner. Since they had guests, they were all in for a busier than usual evening. Jimmy wanted time to prepare songs, Don left to report back to Bradley, Ike needed to remind fellow knights to be on their best behavior, and Leslie had to ask the kitchens for a small plate so she could ditch the gathering and eat while studying. Each said their goodbyes, exiting through the strange door in the same fashion Christophe and Stan had entered.

“Christophe, wait,” Kyle called out as Christophe stood to leave too. “I want to talk to you. Alone.” He looked over at Stan as he said the last part, who looked back at him, betrayal evident in the way he furrowed his brows. It was a recurring theme for him today.

“Are you sure I can’t stay?” Stan asked, his hands squeezing Kyle’s hopefully.

“I’m sure,” Kyle said. “It’ll just be a few minutes, Stan. Promise.”

“I don’t like that you keep shutting me out.” Stan’s voice dropped to a sad whisper.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s really just a lot of political stuff.” Kyle’s eyes dropped to their hands, his thumb caressing the back of Stan’s. “There’s just some things I don’t want to burden you with.”

“But if I don’t know what’s going on, how can I be sure I’ll always be able to protect you?”

“Stan…” Kyle said the name with a sigh, exasperated and happy all at once, as he threw his arms around Stan’s neck and leaned up to kiss him. Stan kissed back and cupped his cheek, brushing back any curls that were in the way.

Christophe shifted awkwardly in his seat. He hated being reminded how much of a third wheel he often was. Maybe it was his fault for catching them on top of one another deep in the hedge maze. It meant he was doomed to be one of the few who kept their secret, and therefore one of the few they could act so intimately in front of. Kyle had told him how grateful and impressed he was for Christophe’s discretion, as he worried what the other elven nobility would say to the relationship of the king and a ranger– a human one at that. Christophe was proud to keep the secret for Kyle but he and Stan often lacked self awareness. If only they realized how unsubtle they actually were.

When Stan started to move to push Kyle back on the table, Christophe loudly cleared his throat. Kyle quickly untangled himself from Stan.

“Shit. Sorry, Christophe. We can continue, um, talking later tonight, okay Stan?”

“Kay,” Stan said, no longer bothered about being left out. He let himself be practically shoved out the door, daring to steal one more quick peck on the lips. “Love you, Ky.”

“Love you too,” Kyle smiled. “Please go check up on our guests and tell them dinner is soon.” Stan gave an overdramatic bow, making Kyle laugh, before wandering off. Kyle turned to Christophe as he let the door close.

“I’m really sorry,” he said again. Christophe shrugged in response.

“Can I smoke een ‘ere?”

“Sure, I guess.” Kyle crossed the room to sit next to Christophe as he lit his pipe again. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted you at that meeting.”

“Mm. Ze zought ‘ad crossed my mind.”

“Let me ask you a question.” Kyle propped his elbow on the table, leaning his face into his palm. “What did you think of Gregory?”

“Gregory?” Christophe wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Ze royal advisor?” Kyle nodded. “Euh… at first I zought ‘e seemed interesting, eef a little too prim and proper. Asked a lot of questions, but mostly ze type where ‘e already knew ze answer. So ‘e ees clearly a showoff. Seems to zink very ‘ighly of ‘imself, self absorbed and conceited like all nobles. Except you.” Christophe frowned, fiddling with the pipe in his fingers. “But… zere’s more to Gregory zan meets ze eye. I zink ‘e notices much more zan ‘e lets on. Very sharp, unlike ze princess or zat stupid wizard.”

“I don’t think you’re giving Kenny enough credit,” Kyle said, “but otherwise I agree. Don’t get me wrong, I want to like him. Gregory seems like a good guy, certainly better than Cartman, but I can’t help but feel that he’s hiding something. Like it’s all just a facade.”

“Zat would make sense.” Christophe hadn’t known what to make of Gregory so smugly calling him a hypocrite, then undergoing a complete personality shift, comforting Christophe and revealing Kupa secrets. The man was a fake, silver tongued and so sure that one charming little smile could convince a stupid half elf like Christophe. He knew the type.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Kyle smiled and Christophe couldn’t help but stare and feel his heartbeat quicken. He tried to shift his attention to his pipe and not long for things that would never happen. He needed to focus on the subject at hand.

“What does Gregory ‘ave to do with me? And being ‘ere?”

“Oh, right. Well, obviously I care about the prophecy. It’s super important and stuff, but right now I think we should focus our energy on reaching out for allies and stopping Nyght. We’ve always been self-sufficient, but just the two of us, Kupa and Larnion, might not be enough to win this.” Kyle sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I honestly have no idea how much of a threat Nyght is, but if they managed to swipe the Stick from Cartman, they’re obviously smart and can’t be underestimated. Plus, if Kenny wants to re-establish Sony, she’s going to need more allies than us. If there’s one thing Cartman doesn’t skimp on, it’s military power.”

“Ees zere anyone we could even ask?”

“The most obvious choices are the Moorish Federation and the dwarven society.”

“Ze what?”

“They’re some of the other beings that live in Zaron, on the other continents,” Kyle explained. “No one’s had any contact with them in generations, but we’ve never needed to before now. I floated the idea of reaching out to Kenny and she likes it. Neither she nor I can go in person, though, which is where you and Gregory come in.”

“Ze two of us?” Christophe raised an eyebrow. “You want us to ask? But I zought you didn’t trust Gregory.”

“I don’t,” Kyle sighed. “However, Kenny is going to suggest gathering allies to Cartman under the pretense of defeating Nyght. And she’s pretty sure that he’ll send Gregory as a diplomat, which means Cartman trusts him, which honestly makes me trust Gregory even less. Since you saw right through him, I’m thinking of sending you. Make sure he’s not doing any evil shit for Cartman, or worse, Nyght.”

Kyle reached forward and placed a hand on Christophe’s arm. Anything else he said went through one of Christophe’s ears and directly out the other. He was nodding dumbly, torn between being thrilled or pissed that Kyle was so close to him. Close enough to smile and trust him, not close enough to do anything more. Not that Christophe would dare ask for anything more, not after he was so thoroughly rejected last time he tried, before he’d known about Stan. No, he knew better than to upset the only one who didn’t look at him like he was little more than an inconvenience to deal with.

“You got all that?” Kyle asked, drawing Christophe out of his head. He stared at him blankly, making Kyle laugh. “Yeah, it was a lot. Don’t worry, we can review it more in the coming days. Just be sure you come to the dinner party tonight, okay? Make yourself more known among the royals. Talk with Gregory, figure him out more.” He smiled when Christophe nodded in response. “Thank you. C’mon, I’ve kept Stan waiting long enough.” Kyle stood and led Christophe out of the room, leaving him behind as he went to find Stan.

Christophe leaned on the wall, taking one final drag from his pipe before dumping the smoldering remains on the ground and snuffing it out under his heel. It seemed like his life was about to get much more complicated than he wanted it to be, just because the immortals decided to have a prophecy of some kind. Fuck them.

Chapter Text

While there was sure to be a grander, more official party when a grander and more official announcement was made about Kyle and the princess’ engagement, for tonight, the dinner was treated like a scaled down version of what was to come. Everyone who happened to be at the palace at the time was invited and the kitchen served tables upon tables of food in one of the larger hosting rooms.

Christophe thought every room designed to entertain looked tacky– there were always so many tapestries. They hung all over the palace, but there was an overwhelming concentration in this room and the throne room. Noble lineages with their house colors and crests were annoying. Kyle’s wasn’t so bad, green for the plants that gave elves their magic and red for the sun that grew them (as well as a nod towards all the past rulers’ hair color). Not like Kupa’s, red and blue with symbols that Christophe was sure meant nothing to the whole nation and applied only to the wizard.

Normally Christophe avoided parties, or any social gatherings, but Kyle had given him a mission and he knew he had to follow it. If he’d retained anything from his days as a mercenary, before breaking into the palace went all the right ways for him, it was how to gather information in a short amount of time. There were many ways to go about it, but the easiest way was to find the most informed and least involved, then question them.

The intermingling had already begun by the time Christophe arrived at the dinner party; it was surprisingly good natured considering how recently the countries had been at each other’s throats. That paladin had been surrounded by various knights and they were sharing stories of battles, most of which involved beating said paladin (he took it all in good humor though). Kyle was of course talking with the princess, but Christophe could tell it wasn’t about anything important like the prophecy. Instead, she seemed to be telling him stories that kept him grinning, plus the occasional laugh. Stan watched them from across the room, barely paying attention as Gregory rambled onto him about something.

Everyone was talking to someone– even the wizard was engaged in a conversation with Jason, one of the wealthiest merchants in Larnion. Christophe could have gotten away with fixing himself a plate of food and retreating to eat it while leaning on the wall before leaving. He wanted nothing more than to do that but instead he walked towards where Jimmy was playing. The music of his lute was soft and enchanting, his hands clearly practiced. He raised an eyebrow as Christophe approached.

“And to what do I owe the p-p-ple-pleasure?” he said, fingers never missing their next beat.

“I didn’t expect to see you earlier today,” Christophe replied.

“Not surprised,” Jimmy said. “You’re qu-quite the insular fellow. Don’t notice much.” He then chuckled as Christophe scowled at him.

“You’re just a bard.”

“And what is a bard without st-sto… sto… without stories?” Jimmy grinned. “I’m privy to much more than you think.” The way he pursed his lips, so cocksure and confident, irked Christophe more than anything. Growing up a half elf he was used to the condescension, but he’d never grown to accept it. Sure, Larnion was better than the surefire death sentence that was Kupa, but elves underestimating and belittling him had gotten tedious. He started to walk away when Jimmy spoke again.

“You know, b-being crippled, people don’t think much of me. They think ‘Wow, a cripple elf, no one will take any st-st-tock in what he has to say’. It loosens everyone’s tongues. Even those from Ku… from Kuuu… from K-Ku… Kupa Keep.”

“... people from Kupa tell you secrets?” Christophe had to admit, that intrigued him.

“They don’t tell me. They just talk a little too loud and a little too close.” Jimmy wiggled his ears. “And I listen.” He began to play a little louder as he spoke with a low voice for just Christophe could hear. “I’ve got tales of all the Kupa nobles. Take your p-pick.”

Christophe looked out at the room. There was really only one that he needed to know about, but admittedly, he wondered about all of them. He had heard horror stories of how they treated their citizens, the wizard keeping them in line with violence and fear, but he’d never bothered to learn of the nobles beyond caricature.

“... ‘ow about ze princess?” Christope decided. It made sense to test Jimmy’s knowledge before he actually needed him. Plus, Christophe was curious about the princess. Kyle said he was underestimating her– he had to know, was he really? “Something about ‘er, anything. Especially eef eet ‘as to do with ‘er… old kingdom.”

“Ah, Princess Kenny. The most beautiful woman in all the la-land.” Jimmy hummed thoughtfully and to the tune of the song he strummed. “Yes, she once had a kingdom that was all her own. Her and her t-two siblings.”

“Siblings?”

“Mhm. Kenny was actually the middle child. She had an older brother Kevin and a little sister, K-Ka… Karen. They liked those ‘K’ names, the McCormicks.” Jimmy's eyes were downcast as he continued. “It’s a real shame they’re g-g-gone. Dead after their castle collapsed in on itself with the whole family inside.”

“Ze whole castle? ‘ow does something like zat even ‘appen?”

“Well, it was during Kupa’s final siege into the capital of Sony. No one is really sure what happened, but the castle was old and pretty sh… shi… shii… pretty shiiii… rundown.” Jimmy shrugged. “The official story is it just collapsed.”

“So zey all died?” Christophe looked over at the princess, who was currently trying to see how many spoons she could hang off the branches of Kyle’s crown. He wondered if she cared about her siblings, if she missed them, or if she’d moved past it all and healed. That second line of thought gave him pause and he frowned.

“Wait, ‘ow did ze rest die from ze castle collapse but not ‘er? Was she not zere at ze time?”

“Oh, she was there alright. It’s a miracle that she survived. B-But then… some say it’s not the first time she’s pulled that kind of miracle.” Jimmy looked at Christophe with a sly grin. Before Christophe could ask what he meant by that, Stan appeared in front of them, looking antsy.

“Hey, can one of you keep Gregory occupied?” he asked. “He’s been following me around all night but I wanna hang out with Kyle and Kenny.”

“We’re busy.” Christophe waved his hand dismissively at Stan. “Jimmy, you were saying?”

“I was saying, if you wanted to know more about Gregory of Yardale, you should g-go t-ta-taaa… talk to him yourself,” Jimmy chuckled. “And now you’ve got a golden opportunity.” Christophe grit his teeth.

“Zat ees not what we were talking about.”

“No,” Jimmy admitted, “b-b-but it’s what you wanted to talk about, wasn’t it?” He laughed as Christophe flipped him off. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“C’mon dude, please? Gregory’s just… a lot. If I talk to him any longer, I’m going to go insane.” Stan gestured across the room where Gregory stood, staring at the stupid tapestries. Everything about him screamed high class and stuck up noble, from his impossibly straight posture to the delicate way he held the glass in his hand. He glanced over at his shoulder and caught sight of them staring at him. He tilted his head curiously.

“Goddamn it,” Stan muttered as he gave an awkward wave. “Christophe, you have, like, thirty seconds to go over there before he comes over here. Please.” It seemed that Stan was right, as Gregory had taken the wave as an invitation of sorts and turned away from the tapestries, now facing them. Any hope Christophe had of milking more information from Jimmy was gone. The bard had started to play a more complex tune anyway, one that required all his attention (or at least, he was pretending as such). With a resigned sigh, Christophe accepted his fate.

Despite the fact that it had only been a few hours since they’d last seen each other, Gregory had changed into an entirely new outfit. It was more casual than his earlier attire, if only slightly. He’d lost the side cape and stiffness of his military blazer at least, but added a ruffled undershirt that peeked out of the new blazer he wore, this one embroidered with small flowers. Christophe didn’t often feel self conscious about his clothing choices, but he still felt the need to dust some dirt off his peasant shirt as he approached.

“Hello again,” Gregory greeted him with a smile. “Stanley’s tired of me already, hm?”

“You knew zat?” Christophe frowned.

“Oh, I suspected as much. I’ve tired of him too honestly, he’s so hard to keep a conversation going with. Gives me nothing to work with, it’s like talking to a wall with how dense he can be.” Gregory turned back to the tapestries. “I had hoped to talk with you anyway.”

“With me?” Christophe raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Pourquoi?” The way Gregory laughed at that only affirmed his decision to not trust the man.

“How could I not? You’re a fascination.” Gregory looked over his shoulder, the smile on his face falling when he saw how Christophe was glaring at him. “I do mean that as a compliment.”

“Mm.” Christophe exhaled, doing his best to keep his annoyance from showing. Even if he wanted to punch the man for seeing him as some sort of fun oddity, he needed a little bit of his trust. He stuck his hands in his pockets and stood beside Gregory, following his gaze.

“You seem to like zese zings,” he said as neutrally as he could. Gregory immediately lit up with excitement.

“The decor? Certainly! The elven kingdom has such an intriguing relationship to Dai and I love how proudly you display it everywhere. Very unifying. I mean, even the king’s robes have the sun on them.” Without even needing to look, Christophe knew what he was talking about. The gold stitchings that ran over Kyle’s red robe and twisted themselves into an intricate interpretation of the sun and its light were the most ornate evidence of his royalty.

He looked anyway. Stan, having successfully escaped what Christophe was now trapped in, stood by Kyle’s side. Kenny was on his other side and she was in the middle of a story of some kind. Even if he couldn’t see her mouth to read her lips, Christophe guessed it was a fairly lewd story from her gestures and how Stan and Kyle blushed.

“As a gardener, you must appreciate Dai,” Gregory said, dragging Christophe’s attention back towards him and away from his thoughts.

“Hein?” Christophe wrinkled his nose. “Non.” He rolled his eyes as Gregory blinked, genuinely taken aback, and cut him off as he started to open his mouth. “I appreciate ze sun for ze plants, oui, but Dai ees not ze sun or light. Like ‘ow Nyght ees not ze moon or dark. People just like to conflate zem. Eef you want my opinion, ze immortals are a bunch of beetches ‘oo are to blame for everything bad een Zaron.”

“... I see.” Gregory sipped the wine in his hands. He almost seemed hurt by Christophe’s comment. If he put the immortals on a pedestal, it was all the more reason for Christophe to dislike him, though he was confused. Kupa wasn’t known for their appreciation of the immortals. Apparently even the leader of the largest group of worshippers, which was still fairly small, had suddenly abandoned the cause a year or so ago. Kyle had offhandedly commented that he had probably been seeking attention and disappeared when he didn’t get it.

“A fascination, indeed,” Gregory murmured. “I’ve never met someone from Larnion who doesn’t value the immortals at least a little.”

“Most of Northern Larnion ees more neutral,” Christophe shrugged. Most, he emphasized in his mind. His mother had been one of the few more fanatical ones, much to his chagrin growing up.

“Northern Larnion? Oh, of course!” Gregory lightly slapped his head, his stupid grin back. “Your accent– you’re from the northern kingdom. I can’t believe I forgot about it.”

“Kingdom?” Christophe laughed at that. “Eet’s always been more like a territory, even before Prince Ike was orphaned and ze Broflovski line took ‘im een.”

“I suppose. Still, it was its own place and culture. I wish I’d been able to see it back then. The last remaining neutral territory in all of Zaron… a rare thing indeed. I can only imagine how difficult it must’ve been. You know, neutrality is why Yardale fell to Kupa.”

“Why what?”

“Hm?” Gregory blinked in confusion, then his eyes widened as he realized. “Ah, of course– that’s history even Kupa citizens seldom learn. Yardale is little more than a pocket of land in Kupa now, but it was once its own place but… well, no one knows or cares much about it anymore. I mean, it is ancient history, gone before even my grandparents’ time. All that’s really left of the country is me, doing my best for our name’s legacy.” His laughter could not have sounded more forced if he tried.

Christophe felt a smile tugging at his lips. It was almost cute how Gregory wore his heart so obviously on his sleeve. No, not cute– useful. He was exactly as Christophe had suspected– a stuck up and glory-hungry noble. Maybe there was something positive to be said about the princess. At least she was trying to do something after Kupa had taken everything from her. Gregory apparently came from a long line of cowards and lap dogs, rolling over for Kupa in the name of self preservation.

There wasn’t much else to be gleaned from conversations with Gregory. Most of the night, he kept trying to get Christophe to leave the grand hall and show him the grounds. Even if he was confident he could take Gregory in a fight, Christophe was wary of any secondary location, away from anyone who could help. Clearly there was something other than admiring nature on Gregory’s mind anyway, as he was increasingly annoyed every time Christophe refused and changed the subject. Eventually, he realized Christophe wasn’t stupid enough to fall for whatever he was planning, so he excused himself and wandered off to talk with others. Christophe made himself scarce for the rest of the evening.

The dinner party as a whole gradually wound down. Jimmy’s ballads turned soft and slow, most of the knights retired to their rooms, and Kyle did his best to clear out stragglers while Stan trailed behind him, constantly glancing at the door and waiting for the both of them to be able to leave. Suffice to say, it was a perfect time for Christophe to slip away and back to his shed.

He lit his pipe as he made his way outside. The air was cool and the smell of cut grass from earlier in the day lingered. Christophe smiled. It was hard to imagine it had all been in such shit condition before he broke in to start taking care of it. It still felt like a dream that Kyle had not only refused to arrest him for it, but gave him a job instead.

Once, Christophe had thought that Kyle was proof that not all nobles looked down on anyone not like them. Or, maybe more specifically, they could appreciate and even respect someone like him. It took one meeting with Bradley and Don to realize that Kyle was an exception.

As he lay on his bed, he couldn’t help but feel sad about having that twinge of hope again, thinking about Gregory. Their interaction in the garden had seemed like something, what exactly though Christophe couldn’t be sure. Any fragment of hope from earlier was dashed the second Kyle told him how Gregory was essentially that stupid wizard’s right hand.

“Shit.” Christophe took a deep drag of his pipe and exhaled. He almost wanted to get angry, or any flavor of upset, but he just felt tired. He hoped for too much when it was better, easier to just take what worked. The pipe tasted more of ash and smoke than anything, so he emptied the contents on the floor, put it on a small table beside his bed, and closed his eyes.

Christophe couldn’t be Gregory’s equal. They both knew this– no need to be upset over things that were impossible to change.

Chapter Text

Even if it was only a few extra days longer than originally predicted, Gregory was glad for the time in Larnion. As much as he could manage it, he wandered outside the palace grounds to the surrounding city streets. The capital of Larnion was gorgeous, the architecture incorporating the surrounding nature in many ways, such as ivy climbing every wall it could. Even though Gregory had no inherent magic like elves, nor had he ever devoted much time to studying it like the Grand Wizard had, he had to believe that what he felt was magic permeating the air. There was a sense of vitality that could be found everywhere he looked.

On practically every single one of these excursions into the city, Gregory was accompanied by Christophe. He was fairly quiet, contrasting Gregory’s initial impression of him in the garden, but he listened. If Gregory ever asked for his opinion directly, Christophe complied and told him his thoughts on the cafe Gregory was thinking of going to, what the plant over there was, or translated the elvish whisperings of people they passed by.

“Zey gossip, mostly,” Christophe told him. “Lots of zings to say about both of us.”

“Well, of course I understand for myself,” Gregory said. “I’m sure seeing a human in their city must be just as fascinating to them as seeing an elf in Kupa might be to me. But shouldn’t they already know you?”

“Oh, zey know me.” Christophe’s tone was bitter and biting. “Zat ees why zey talk so much. You would be ‘ard pressed to find someone ‘oo approves of a ‘alf elf being friends with ze king. Not zat Kyle cares. ‘e ees always ‘iring zose ‘e shouldn’t– a ‘alf elf, a ‘uman, a cripple, a… whatever Leslie ees.”

“Really? I always thought that Kyle having such diverse people in high rankings meant the kingdom as a whole was more accepting,” Gregory frowned. “I’ve always wished that the Grand Wizard would expand his council beyond me, the princess, and the paladin. All blonds, isn’t that odd? Well, there was Heidi too but… well.” He left the thought at a hum, not wanting to stray into a new subject. “You’re saying you’re not respected?”

“Kyle respects me,” Christophe said. “And ‘e respects ze others. Zat ees all zat matters, but some people still don’t like eet. We’re less like staff and more like a band of circus freaks, something Terrance and Phillip would come up with.”

“Who?”

“Terrance and Phillip? Zey used to run a popular satire show up in Northern Larnion. Very low brow ‘umor. Ze past queen tried to ‘ave zem killed once for ‘treason’, but Kyle loved zeir show and convinced ‘er not to.” Christophe looked at Gregory but he shook his head, the pair still not ringing a bell to him. Christophe shrugged, declaring the subject unimportant and switching to a new one about his thoughts on the flowers that fought their way through cracks in the street.

Small moments like that, the cultural exchanges with a personal touch, made Gregory continue to hold Christophe in high regard, despite how he looked at him with a surly expression much of the rest of the time. There was still a chance at friendship in Gregory’s eyes. Sadly, before it could be truly cultivated, it was time for all of them to leave. Nearly all of them, at least. The princess insisted on staying to oversee preparations for her wedding, which she claimed would be a grand celebration, prepped and ready to go the moment the war against Nyght was won. There was a surprisingly touching goodbye between her and the Grand Wizard, and then a more predictably tearful goodbye with the paladin.

“The castle is gonna feel real lonely without you there,” Gregory heard the paladin whimper into his hug with the princess.

“Aw, Butters! What, do you care about me or something?” she joked, but her eyes looked wet. “It’s just until the wedding. And Cartman wants me to send ravens as often as I can, so it’s not like you won’t hear from me.” The princess gave the paladin an extra squeeze before walking over to Gregory. There was something akin to curiosity, or maybe a challenge, in the stare she gave him. He smiled, hoping his uncertainty and nervousness weren’t showing, and bowed respectfully. When Gregory lifted his head back up, the princess was still staring at him, but her expression was more unreadable.

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time living in Larnion,” Gregory said, trying his best to get anything out of her. “I’ve been around these past few days, it truly is a lovely place. Congratulations again on your engagement.”

“Thanks Gregory,” the princess said. Her eyes crinkled in a way that Gregory was almost entirely sure was a smile. She curtsied, then waved them all off as they loaded into the carriage back to Kupa Keep.

The days after passed more tediously than Gregory had ever experienced before. He had always considered the princess’ constant jokes little more than a frustrating distraction, prolonging meetings between them and the Grand Wizard, but now he would’ve given anything to have her levity again. There was a grimness in the air, the Grand Wizard becoming further upset as daily news reached the palace of how the siege on Nyght was going (it was not going well). His temper set everyone on edge– even the normally jovial Tolkien, a healer that Gregory had gotten to know during his time with the Kupa army, devoted himself to little else but making sure all returning soldiers were ready to fight again soon.

Gregory also came to realize that he’d been wrong to think of the princess as an annoyance. The palace was full of staff, obedient to him for his title, but he knew they didn’t actually care about him like the princess had seemed to. At the very least, she was one of the only people who had regularly talked to and checked in on him. Rotating between sitting at a desk in the palace library to a desk in his room was incredibly isolating and lonely without her there to break up his routine.

Sometimes he went to watch soldiers sparring, but any friends he thought he’d made never talked to him beyond a respectful “Sir”, salute, and then polite but firm request to not distract them from further training. Whether it was out of fear of disappointing the Grand Wizard, true dedication to the cause, or a want to just not be talking to Gregory anymore, he had a hard time deciphering.

About a week or so after returning from Larnion, Gregory heard that the latest round of front liners had returned. He quickly made his way through the halls to the sick bay, poking his head in the doorway to see the damage. There were more bodies on beds than he thought there would be and the paladin was kneeling at one, healing hands over a gash on their arm. His eyes blinked slow and heavy, clearly exhausted, but he shook his head to fight the urge to sleep. Further in the room, Tolkien also knelt by a bed, working his magic on a woman who sat talking to him.

“Wendy?” Gregory called, uncertain. The woman looked back over her shoulder and smiled.

“Gregory!”

“Oh, dear, it is you!” Gregory rushed over and sat beside her. He opened his arms but hesitated, trying to figure out how bad her wounds were, but she leaned in and hugged him before he could make a good assessment.

“Hey, not too much movement, okay?” Tolkien said, though he smiled. “I need you stable to heal your ankle.”

“Right,” Wendy said, backing out of the hug.

“What’s wrong with your ankle?” Gregory frowned.

“Just a sprain,” Wendy smiled reassuringly. “It could heal on its own, but I want to get back out there right away. I don’t know how, but Nyght found some of our most critical bases and they’ve been destroying them. There’s barely enough rations or weapons or medical supplies to go around anymore. It’s really doing numbers on everyone’s morale.”

“How awful…” Gregory tried his best to look upset rather than guilty. He knew exactly how Nyght knew of the bases. As if he could forget the many nights he and Feldspar spent pouring over the details of the Kupa military, readying La Resistance’s rebellion. Feldspar was a quiet but quick learner, and apparently a good enough teacher to pass along all the secrets Gregory had entrusted to him.

“And on top of all that,” Wendy grumbled, “there’s that back-stabbing, two-faced bitch Heidi.”

“Better not let the Grand Wizard hear you talking about her,” Tolkien said. “You know how he hates Heidi for betraying him. One little reminder could set him off and that’s the last thing we need. He’s been extra crabby since the princess lives in Larnion now.”

“Ugh, of course Eric reduces this to something about him and her!” Wendy groaned. Gregory glanced over his shoulder to the doorway, feeling relieved when the Grand Wizard wasn't there. Wendy was one of the few that refused to use his title, claiming he didn't deserve it, and had publicly beat him near death after he got upset about it. He let her continued transgression slide after that, but Tolkien was right– even the smallest stressor might break him.

Wendy, confident in her choices as always, didn't even worry or pause, continuing on in her rant. “If this was just about her surpassing him in magic and wanting to take the title of Grand Wizard from him, she would be the rebellion leader! But no, it’s some stupid merchant.”

“Clyde,” Gregory said.

“I know who he is, Gregory. You don’t forget the name of the man who took your best soldier and best friend from you.” Wendy huffed angrily. “Bebe should know better than anyone that you don’t fuck with Wendy Testaburger.” She flexed her ankle as Tolkien sat back on his heels and let out a big sigh. “Good as new! Thanks Tolkien.”

“No problem,” he nodded. “Tell Nichole that I love her and to be careful whenever you next head out, will you?”

“Of course!” Wendy stood and stretched, then looked down at Gregory, nodding her head toward the door in invitation. He rose and followed her out, leaving the paladin and Tolkien to their work.

Talking with Wendy was the relief Gregory had been yearning for. They’d been good friends growing up, both noble in blood, distant children of long forgotten kingdoms Kupa had conquered, hearts set on making a name for themselves. Sometimes it felt like she was the only one in all of Zaron who understood Gregory.

Or, at least, she was at one point.

Despite the guilt of each of Wendy’s battlefield stories eating at him, Gregory couldn’t help but feel at ease to be laughing with her as they strolled past the grand lake on the palace grounds. The water was a bit murky, not much to look at in the summer, but gorgeous once it froze over. Gregory picked up a stone and tossed it across the surface, watching it skip twice before sinking. Wendy took it as a challenge and found her own stone. She grinned triumphantly after it skipped a whole one time more than his had.

“Alright, I concede,” Gregory chuckled. His expression softened as he studied Wendy’s face, so set with fierce determination as she grabbed another rock, wanting to outdo herself. “When do you go back?”

“Tomorrow if I can.” The rock made the same three skips as earlier. “Ugh.”

“Tomorrow?” Gregory’s face fell. “So soon? Don’t you want to stay and rest? Spend time with your husband, maybe?”

“... I should go see him, shouldn’t I?” Wendy sighed. She fiddled with the new rock in her hands, turning it over and inspecting its smoothness. “Sorry. That sounds mean. I like Darwin. We talk about academia a lot. I’m happy.”

“But?”

“But I hate that I let Eric talk me into being part of his matchmaking bullshit.” Wendy threw her stone in the water, making a loud splash. “When I told him I was willing to go with whoever he chose after he wouldn’t stop breathing down my neck about it, I guess I expected he’d get it right like with Tolkien and Nichole or Scott and Sophie. Darwin isn’t bad but I always thought…” She laughed, a little bitter but mostly sad. “It’s silly, but I thought he’d put you and me together.”

“Oh.” Gregory looked at the ground. “Well, I’m sure the Grand Wizard has his reasons for who he pairs with whom. You’d hope, what with how it’s all but required for nobles to ask him.”

“Yeah,” Wendy sighed. “I think he’s saving you for when Estella eventually asks.”

“Perhaps.” He brushed imaginary strands out of his face just to give his hands something to do. Gregory didn’t have the heart to tell Wendy that Estella already did ask and Gregory had adamantly refused his match with her. And with Wendy.

“What the hell do you mean you don’t want Wendy?!” the Grand Wizard had yelled at him. “Look, she might be a high maintenance bitch, but she’s worth it if you put in the work! That ‘focus on securing your legacy’ excuse is honestly such bullshit– you’re not going to put Yardale back on the fucking map. The best you can do is continue your line and you know it. Two golden opportunities, and you’ve refused both of them. There has to be a better reason you’re breaking my fucking balls here.”

Gregory hated how right the Grand Wizard was. What he did now was shaping up to be a futile attempt to keep Yardale from slipping into complete obscurity– he needed heirs.

A life with Wendy wouldn’t have been awful. He cared for her, deeply. She was the only woman who led her own battalion and that was quite the feat. Still, pretending he loved her while his heart belonged to another just to continue the Yardale line would’ve broken them both. She didn’t even know the most damning thing about him, a choice he initially made to keep her safe but now it was a selfish secret.

The best Gregory could do was offer a sympathetic smile, assure Wendy she could make the best of anything, and see her off the next morning. Darwin was there– a nice but bland man, generations ago related to a kingdom that fell to Sony before it fell to Kupa. He politely kissed Wendy’s cheek as she left before returning to his position as professor to the few young nobles and higher ranking soldiers’ children.

Things were fine.

As much as it had been a relief to have Wendy to talk with for a day, Gregory felt his isolation hit harder than before she’d been there. News of Nyght expanding and claiming border towns meant that no soldiers gave him the time of day. The Grand Wizard was even more on edge than before and Gregory was often left to deal with the aftermath of unlucky servants who’d become victims of his lightning blast. Some were fine after consolation from him and healings from Tolkien. Some he’d have to issue an official apology to the families of.

The only good thing left was the frequent raven that came from Larnion with news from the princess. The Grand Wizard made Gregory read each letter aloud before taking it and reading it quietly to himself. He then usually spoke his reply, leaving it up to Gregory to transcribe, edit, and send back. If the paladin caught Gregory in the halls before he’d finished editing, he always asked if Gregory could tell the princess he hoped she was doing well. She always included a line assuring him that she was.

At one point, a second raven came much later in the day than usual and the Grand Wizard’s reply to it was long and rambling. Gregory found himself rubbing sleep out of his eyes by candlelight, trying to make the reply as concise as possible. Apparently, while the king was rallying support to send to the Kupa military, he thought it wise to start seeking more allies. The princess agreed and hoped the Grand Wizard would too.

“Any idea an elf has is sneaky and suspicious,” the Grand Wizard said.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Gregory said. “Kupa doesn’t have endless resources, and neither does Larnion. We’re going to need more help.”

“And look weak by asking for it? Lame.”

“Or appear strong by uniting Zaron and spearheading the fight against a common enemy.”

The Grand Wizard then proceeded to rant about his thoughts on the Federation ( “Stupid Moorish brutes who won’t share their fucking dragons” ), the dwarves ( “Short hermit weirdos with weird mountain problems” ), and the creatures of the enchanted forest ( “Useless faeries and squishy gnomes that—” “The alliance we have with the faeries is already shaky, please don’t insult them further” ). Still, at the end of it all, the Grand Wizard seemed to start coming around to the idea. Figuring out how to tell the princess this was proving difficult and Gregory ended up falling asleep in the middle of his sentence.

A whistle of cold wind cut through his sleepy state and Gregory sat up with a start. Moonlight leaked into his room through an open window and curtains, which he found strange. The palace got drafty enough without opening anything, so he never did. Gregory walked over to the window and shut it, then turned and nearly had a heart attack.

“Dear Dai!” He glared at the man leaning casually on his bedroom door and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “Feldspar! What on Zaron are you doing here?”

Chapter Text

Nothing about Feldspar’s relaxed posture gave away any hint of urgency, so apathetic to the fact that he was in the stronghold of a country that wanted him dead. If Gregory didn’t know better, he’d have pegged him for an idiot. They both knew he had no reason on alert though– if he’d made it this far, no one knew he was here. And Gregory wouldn’t be raising the alarm any time soon.

“Don’t mind me, just breaking into your room.” Feldspar stood and crossed to Gregory’s desk, picking up the letter draft. “So you guys teaming up with Larnion is true, huh? And you’re looking for more allies?”

“Give me that!” Gregory snatched the paper from his hands. “You’re not allowed to be privy to sensitive information anymore. How’d you even get in here?”

“Few new tricks.” Feldspar held up his gloved hand and snapped his fingers, magically conjuring a small flame that he used to relight the candle at Gregory’s desk. “Heidi’s been teaching a bunch of us.”

“Of course she has,” Gregory muttered. He’d never intended for the Grand Wizard’s star apprentice to be a part of La Resistance– she’d just been conveniently close to the Stick and Gregory took pity on how she got treated. She’d always been like the perfect older sister to him and Wendy growing up. Hers was another betrayal he’d never expected.

Gregory watched as Feldspar shrugged and walked over to his bed, sat on the edge of it, and began rooting through his bedside table. Having a wanted thief in his room had always been illegal, but now that Feldspar was known far and wide as the one who had stolen the Stick, harboring him had to be akin to high treason. The sooner he was gone, the better.

“I know you didn’t come in the middle of the night just to scare me half to death,” Gregory said, folding the letter and slipping it into a desk drawer. “What are you really doing here?”

“Same reason I always come back here.” Feldspar stopped his search and looked at him. “Gary’s map.” Gregory felt his chest tighten and his breath got shaky. It was hard to swallow as he broke eye contact with Feldspar.

“Don’t just say his name like… like that. So casually. And asking for his things as if nothing—”

“I’m not trying to reopen any wounds.” Feldspar’s normally nasally and monotone voice was soft. “Or belittle your feelings but… it’s been over a year.”

“He wouldn’t’ve wanted this.” Gregory crossed his arms, an attempt to be defensive and a want to be small, disappear, avoid this conversation. “What Clyde plans to do. The Spring of Truth is sacred and should be shared, not destroyed. You should know, you listened to him preach.”

“I did. That whole ‘blessings of Dai’ thing. But Gary also said that mortals misused it, right? That’s why Nyght took the Spring away. We weren’t supposed to have it or anything that came from it. Like magic.”

“Says the thief turned mage!”

“Sometimes a mirror’s the best weapon,” Feldspar shrugged. His eyes pierced through the darkness and bore into the side of Gregory’s face. It wasn’t often they spoke nowadays, given how things had turned out, but it was always like this. Feldspar broke in, tried to sell Gregory on Nyght’s philosophy, and the conversation that followed was always a disagreement. Why he thought Gregory’s mind would ever change when his argument never did– it was a mystery. The tension wore his patience thin and Gregory sighed, giving in to the inevitable conclusion faster than he usually did.

“You can’t have it,” he murmured. “I’m not expediting your mission to destroy everything we ever dreamed of. If you’re so dead set on sullying his memory, you can wander all over the continent with the damn Stick until you find the Spring yourselves.”

“Believe me,” Feldspar groaned as he got off Gregory’s bed, “we’re fucking trying. It’d just be a lot easier with that map.”

“I’m aware.”

The window pane that always creaked when Gregory touched it was silent as Feldspar pushed it open, just wide enough for his slim frame to slip through. He stopped halfway through the gap, his shadow blocking any moonlight, denying the room of light besides the lone candle on the desk. He sighed, frustrated and tired.

“I’m not the asshole here, okay? I could rifle through your shit while you’re out and just take the map instead of asking. But I won’t because that’s the asshole thing to do. But you have to know Clyde’s right about magic and corruption. Taking the power from those who have it and destroying it– that’s what you were fighting for, wasn’t it? What Gary would’ve wanted the map to be used for.”

“Don’t you dare imply I would ever disrespect Gary’s wishes.” Saying his name made Gregory’s eyes burn as hot tears started to gloss over his vision. “If he were here, he would be so sad, knowing what you’re doing now.”

“You sure about that?” Feldspar’s face was mostly turned away from Gregory, watching out for any particularly observant guards. Still, Gregory swore his lips were pursed, doubtful and contemplating, gears whirring and turning an idea behind his eyes. Not that it mattered– whatever plan he was forming wouldn’t change anything.

“I know Gary.”

“You knew him.” Feldspar glanced one last time at Gregory. “I’ll be back for that map.” With that, he left, a gust of wind replacing him and blowing out the candle in the room. Gregory shivered and hurried to close the window and draw the curtains again. He thought of relighting the candle and finishing the letter to the princess, but couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything except crawl under his sheets and try not to cry.

The palace’s dining hall, normally empty at the hour Gregory ate breakfast there, was a flurry of activity as servants ran in and out, setting platters of food down on the table. At the head sat the Grand Wizard, scrutinizing the whole affair. While he didn’t turn his attention away from the food as Gregory walked in, he waved.

“Good morning, sir.” Gregory sat down. “A bit on the early side for your usual breakfast buffet, isn’t it?”

“I like having options,” the Grand Wizard said, a scowl on his face as he puffed up indignantly, defending his choice in meal.

“Of course. I meant more that you’re not usually up at this hour.” The Grand Wizard grunted at that, acknowledging without wanting to speak further.

“You send that letter to Kenny last night?” he asked, changing the subject. He snapped his fingers and gestured to a servant standing nearby to start piling a plate with some of the food on the table.

“No, I haven’t gotten around to it quite yet,” Gregory said. “I was going to eat something, then finish it and send it off.”

“Good. I slept on what she sent yesterday and what you said, and I think I’ve changed my mind.” The Grand Wizard leaned back in his chair as the servant placed his plate in front of him, then motioned towards Gregory. “Go ahead and give him some too.” He shrugged as Gregory raised an eyebrow at this rare instance of sharing. “You’ve been useful to me lately, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Almost enough to make up for your earlier transgression.”

“Oh.” Gregory felt simultaneously proud that all his tip-toeing and obedience had paid off, as well as sick that he’d done enough of it for the Grand Wizard to reward him for it. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m just glad we’ve been able to reach an understanding,” the Grand Wizard said.

“Of course,” Gregory said, doing his best to control his breathing and keep from leaping across the table and strangling the man at the head. First Feldspar last night and now this– the world seemed intent on keeping Gregory’s worst tragedy fresh in his mind today. “I know how vital it is for us to be on the same page.”

“Damn right. Now, about that letter.” The Grand Wizard took a bite of the pancakes on his plate and spoke as he chewed them. “I think Kenny was trying to warn me about Kyle. He’s already made up his mind about making friends with the others, probably using this war against Heidi and those other Nyght assholes as an excuse. I know what he ultimately wants– to turn against me with the help of all his new buddies and destroy Kupa.”

“I highly doubt that’s what the king is planning.”

“Of course you would. You’re thinking what he wants you to think, Gregory. No one understands those fiery bastard elves like I do. Trust me– I know what he’s going to do.” The Grand Wizard’s face was hardset with a conviction that Gregory knew was near impossible to talk him out of. He settled on a resigned sigh and quietly ate the food in front of him, the Grand Wizard continuing on.

“Thanks to Kenny’s warning, we have an excuse to get in on this betrayal and stop it before it starts. I want you to write back to her and say that we’re in, and I’ll be sending you.”

Gregory nearly choked on the bit of egg he had in his mouth. Once he worked to swallow it and water, he sputtered an incredulous “Me?!”

“Yeah, you.” The Grand Wizard handed his empty glass of juice to a servant, who immediately put a new full one in his waiting hand. “Probably that ranger Scott Malkinson too, maybe a third man if we can spare it. But what I really need is you working your ass kissery bullshit on the Federation and the dwarves. Fuck it, even those gnome bastards if that won’t get the faeries’ wings in fucking knots.”

“You want me to represent the kingdom of Kupa Keep.” Gregory said this slowly, tasting the idea on his tongue and letting the weight of it sink in.

“Uh, yeah, douchebag, that’s what I said. I want you to represent Kupa. I saw the way you were with Kyle, pretending to be interested in his culture and shit. Do it again with the others, get them on Kupa’s good side and not Larnion’s, got it? Oh, and—” the Grand Wizard put his hands on the table and leaned forward— “if I find out that you’ve failed me or fucking defected, Wendy and I are gonna have a little chat.” He smiled and Gregory’s blood ran cold. Whether the Grand Wizard meant a literal chat to expose and exaggerate Gregory rejection, ruining their friendship, or the type of “chat” he’d had at before that led to the mess Gregory found himself in, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to let either happen.

As soon as the princess’ reply reached the palace, confirming that Larnion would join in this diplomatic mission, Gregory’s mood completely turned around. Although the path of his routine hadn’t changed much and he spent a majority of his time shut up in the library, he frequently found himself humming while reading old texts. Kupa was such an insular place– the borders were hard and set unless the Grand Wizard was trying to expand them. 

Aside from the mostly outdated texts on elven culture in the archives and Nichole, a faerie from the Enchanted Forest and Tolkien’s wife, Gregory knew very little of the outside that wasn’t blatant propaganda. The opportunity to not only travel but interact with, learn from, and educate outsiders excited him immensely. While the Grand Wizard’s intentions were less than pure, Gregory would really be the one in charge. The future of Kupa was in his hands; he would not push the idea of power, but instead of unity and opportunity– what he hoped and knew the country could be someday.

Over the course of a few weeks and many ravens sent back and forth, the two kingdoms formed a plan:

Kupa would send three diplomats, headed by Gregory, and a few spare guards to Larnion. They would travel through the north and stop at the coast, where they would be joined by Larnion’s diplomats and some guards. Larnion agreed to lend one of their ships (although the Grand Wizard insisted that it fly the Kupa crest and colors) for the group to sail from the coast to the continent of the Federation, then sail to the Enchanted Forest and the dwarven mountains, and finally return.

Gregory was delighted to learn that Christophe would be among Larnion’s diplomats, along with a woman named Rebecca Cotswolds, a renowned academic in the kingdom, and Don, the head of the Larnion group and a man Gregory had met once or twice before. The Grand Wizard, on the other hand, found Christophe’s inclusion incredibly suspicious.

“What the hell is he sending the gardener for?” he sneered upon first learning the news. “Half breed, not a royal, not a knight, not even smart—”

“You don’t know that,” Gregory frowned. “In my experience, he’s intelligent enough to be a lovely conversationalist at least. Besides, the king clearly holds him in high regard to send him on a mission this important.”

“Maybe,” the Grand Wizard shrugged. “Or maybe he’s a spy. There’s rumors, you know. About how he used to be a mercenary and wanted criminal. Maybe he still is and this ‘gardener’ thing is a cover. He’s gotta be like… Kyle little mole, there to learn about what we’re planning and tell Kyle all our fucking secrets.”

“And what are we planning, sir?” Gregory quirked his brow. “Beyond gathering allies, the same as they are?”

“To stop Kyle’s evil elf plan to take over Kupa and rule the world, duh! We went over this, damnit!” The Grand Wizard launched into the rant he always had ready, going on about how certain he was that the king would bring about Kupa’s demise. Gregory had learned to not really listen but look engaged enough that he wouldn’t be punished for not indulging him. There were more important matters occupying his thoughts than the Grand Wizard’s bigotry.

The day of departure from Kupa came too soon for Gregory’s liking, though he greeted  the day with utmost enthusiasm. A two travelling carriages waited at the front of the palace– one for the guards, the other for the diplomats. Gregory thought the guards unnecessary, considering that he and the other diplomats were all soldiers in their own right. Aside from him was a ranger by the name of Scott Malkinson, a bit wet behind the ears in Gregory’s opinion but very subservient to the Grand Wizard’s whims. He stood at the gate, clinging to a woman with braided hair and sobbing on her shoulder as she patted his back comfortingly. Gregory made eye contact with her as he approached and she smiled slightly.

“He’s nervous,” she said.

“I’m not nervous!” Scott spoke with a heavy lisp that worsened with his tears. “I’m just… I’m not gonna see you for months, Sophie! Maybe a whole year!”

“And that’s okay, Scott! We can send ravens. I’ll be here when you get back.” Sophie gently pushed him off of her and straightened out his uniform, brushing a bit of dust off the front.

“I guess we all had to d-dress up,” a voice stuttered behind Gregory, punctuated with an awkward and shaky laugh. He turned around to see a man with wild blond hair, tugging at the emerald, gold-stitched cloak on his back. The thin gold chains keeping it on his shoulders were tangled with the collar of his haphazardly-buttoned moss green jacket.

“Tweek, your uniform can’t look messy. We’re supposed to be representatives,” Scott said. Gregory knew the name but he hardly recognized the man in his full regalia. Tweek had been named his replacement when he switched from commander to advisor– though he wasn’t quite sure why. From what he knew, the man hated the pressure of responsibility.

“D-Don’t you think I know that? Argh, I’m just so not used to wearing all these layers!” Tweek fidgeted with his belt and the sword on his hip.

“Here, let me,” Gregory said. He pushed Tweek’s gloved hands aside and set about rebuttoning the jacket and adjusting the cape in place.

“Thanks,” Tweek mumbled. “The stupid gloves kept– nngh– slipping on the buttons.”

“Why would you put your gloves on before buttoning?” Gregory asked.

“I don’t know, man! The gloves, the jacket, the undershirt, the cape– th-there’s too many pieces to this!”

“You should get used to it,” Gregory said. He finished helping as best he could (fixing the wrinkles in the fabric and combing his hair would take too long) and turned so he was facing both men. “Shall we?” They nodded to him and, after making sure they had everything for the final time, their group departed from Kupa Keep.

Gregory watched out the palace grow smaller out the carriage window until it disappeared behind a hill. He ran his fingers over the grooves of the locket around his neck, reassuring himself that he hadn’t forgotten it. If Feldspar came again to search while he was gone, he’d come up empty handed. The map was safe and Gregory was on his way to show the world that all of Kupa wasn’t a lost cause like Nyght assumed. The potential for good, for compromise, lay in wait, patiently hiding from an oppressive ruler who wasn’t here to hold Gregory’s tongue.

This was it– his second chance at opportunity.

Chapter Text

There were a lot of presumptions that Christophe had about the princess of Kupa and she proceeded to shatter every single one of them in the short time he knew her. She attended the same important royal meeting Kyle had to go to, ones Christophe was never privy to, but he never failed to catch the annoyed faces or frustrated yells of whatever representative had come to consult with Kyle that day. They threw mini tantrums, barely restrained ones that all nobles learned how to do, and stomped through the garden paths. These outbursts tended to be accompanied by grumblings about that “stupid human princess” and manners. When he saw Kenny later that day, she would have a knowing and amused look about her.

Whenever Kyle had a moment free, he and Kenny ran around the palace grounds, getting up to some kind of harmless trouble. Whether it was a silly decree for the cooks to use sugar in everything they cooked that day or teaming up with Ike to pull pranks on the knights, the two were always giggling about something. Once, on a day when the sky let loose and the grounds turned swampy, Christophe caught them running barefoot through the muddy paths. Soaked, laughing, and not giving a damn– Christophe never thought he’d seen Kyle so openly at ease.

“Does eet bother you?” he asked Stan once, having caught him in a rare moment without Kyle. “Do you zink she’s—”

“No,” Stan answered immediately. Whether it was because he was certain or because he was defensive, Christophe couldn’t quite tell. “I’ve known Kenny since we were babies. I trust her with Kyle.”

“And you trust Kyle with ‘er?”

“Of course.” Stan rolled his eyes at Christophe, like he was insane for ever insinuating anything other than total trust in Kyle. Christophe did feel that way after he said it– guilty too, for assuming Kyle would ever purposely hurt someone who meant so much to him. He’d only ever been kind to Christophe, after all, and Christophe knew Kyle loved Stan more than he ever did him.

Whatever was going on between Stan, Kyle, and Kenny, it didn’t really concern Christophe too much. He had more pressing matters to attend to, such as making sure the hands that Kyle hired to help him tend the grounds were even halfway competent. He’d never needed help before, but soon he would have to leave for an indeterminately long amount of time to gather allies against Nyght. The garden was not so fragile an ecosystem that it couldn’t survive a day without Christophe lovingly tending to it, though he always acted like it was.

Still, a day was a day. Weeks? Months? That much neglect wasn’t good for any living thing. Christophe needed an apprentice but didn’t have the patience to train anyone young enough to listen without question and older folks were set in their gardening ways. Most elves took snobbish pride in the thought that they were more in tune with nature than a half elf could ever be, which at least tripled the difficulty of any training.

“Whoa,” Jimmy said one evening as Christophe stomped into the dining room, fuming after a particularly difficult day. “If looks c-could k-ki… ki-kiii… kill.”

“Shut eet.” Christophe grabbed at some of the food on the table and shoved it into his pockets, intending to eat alone in his shed.

“It is a shame to witness you struggle so,” Leslie hummed. She sat at one of the dining tables with Jimmy, absentmindedly picking at her food, her attention more on the book open in front of her. “All in vain too– I could easily enchant something that will help the grounds self-maintain.”

“Non. Using magic ees bad for ze plants,” Christophe glared at her. Leslie stared back, her expression blank but her head slightly cocked, her only hint of emotion. A curiosity, a question as to why he was so anti-magic when most everyone else in Larnion used it to expedite the growing process. Maybe there was some method they all learned growing up in schools, or a more particular one Leslie knew of from her niche studies, but the way Christophe had always seen it, using magic was stagnating. The plants gave magic and putting magic back in just equaled nothing, or worse if you used more than you gave back.

What they needed to grow was simple: good earth for their roots, sunlight to reach for, an appropriate amount of water, and actual attention and care. If Leslie and the others refused to understand something that simple, Christophe refused to bend over backward explaining further. He grabbed a final bread roll and headed for the exit before colliding with someone coming around the corner.

“Watch eet, beetch!” he snarled, then paled as he realized the person in front of him was the Kupa princess. Being passive aggressive and snarky to underlings like Don or thinking bad thoughts about nobility in the privacy of his mind was one thing– out right insulting royalty tended to have devastating consequences.

“Je suis désolé– er, I am very so—”

“I knew you were built like a brick wall but, shit, I didn’t know you’d feel like one too,” the princess interrupted. She patted his chest and let out a low whistle as he stood there, debating whether smacking her hand away was fine since he’d already apologized for calling her a bitch, or if it would seal his fate. Before he could reach a decision, Kenny put her hands on her hips and her eyelids crinkled like a smile.

“Glad I ran into you, actually,” she said. “Do you have time to chat?”

“... tu veux me parler?” Christophe tended to slip back to his native tongue when his brain was busy processing other information. Kenny cocked her head and furrowed her brow, trying to decipher what he said before nodding.

“Yeah, uh, we can talk in the parlor… does this place have a parlor? You know what,” she shook her head, “I changed my mind. Parlor’s no good. C’mon.” Kenny gestured for Christophe to follow. He did, warily, weaving through hallways until they reached one of the palace bedrooms. He guessed that this was where she was staying for the moment. Kenny opened the door and nodded at the entryway.

“You want me to go into your room?” Christophe frowned.

“No, just letting you know where it is,” Kenny said sarcastically. Christophe still hesitated, so she took his wrist and pulled him in, shutting the door behind them.

The room was more spacious than Christophe had ever seen a bedroom be, with a bed big enough to fit a horse, a towering wardrobe, and a desk strewn with papers and open letters. They weren’t for him to read, but out of the corner of his eye Christophe caught a large signature at the bottom: “The Grand Wizard King, Eric Theodore Cartman”. The penmanship was rather elegant, much neater than he would’ve ever assumed the wizard to have.

A vase also sat on the desk, the bouquet of flowers in it drooping sadly even though they added a fresh scent to the room. Christophe picked it up and started pruning the dead leaves off, frowning when he noticed the water wasn’t fresh anymore. He threw open the window and dumped it before refilling it with a pitcher by a glass and adding some plant food he kept in his pockets. As he set the vase back down, he remembered that Kenny was still there. Christophe turned to see her leaning on the closed door, watching him.

“What?” he frowned. “You’re doing a terrible job preserving zem.”

“Good to know for the future,” Kenny said. “Kyle gave them to me from some place in town. He said you’d be mad if he took anything from the garden here.”

“I would be. ‘e knows me well.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Kenny pushed herself off from where she was leaning and walked over, running a thumb over a petal. “Kyle speaks pretty highly of you.” Christophe scoffed, but his gaze fell to the floor. Tending the palace gardens were enough, but knowing Kyle actually spoke of him when he wasn’t around thrilled him more than he’d ever admit. Kyle was not and would never be Christophe’s; logically he knew this. It didn’t stop his heart from racing, imagining Kyle singing his praises.

“I’m not kidding, you know. He does.” Kenny placed a hand on Christophe’s arm. He made a move to jerk away, but stopped himself, choosing to brush her fingers off of him instead. This just made Kenny laugh, much to Christophe’s confusion. “So jumpy.”

“I don’t know you,” Christophe said.

“I guess you don’t,” Kenny hummed. “I don’t know you either, but I know Stan and Kyle. They’ve assured me that you’ve been good to them and they’d trust you with anything. Which is why…” Kenny reached up, tucking her fingers behind her ear. She unworked a little clasp and her mask fell away, revealing a button nose, freckled cheeks, and tooth-gap smile. Christophe’s breath caught in his throat.

“Your face…”

“Yep, behold! The most beautiful face in all the land.” Kenny presented herself in an overdramatic fashion, her smile becoming more of a cheeky grin. “So gorgeous it can render anyone speechless. Including you, it seems.” Christophe, who realized he’d been staring at her, slackjawed, cleared his throat and shook his head.

“I just… I’ve never seen you without ze mask before,” Christophe said.

“It’s just as weird for you as it is for me,” Kenny laughed. “I started wearing it back when Sony fell. It was a defensive thing at first I think, didn’t like others knowing how I was feeling. Now it’s just a regular part of me.” Her expression fell a bit, gaze and smile dropping. “But I’d like for you to trust me because I need to trust you.” 

She crossed the room to the nightstand by her bed. It was an unassuming though ornately decorated wooden thing, but Christophe watched as Kenny expertly tapped and pushed hidden parts of it. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and bit down hard, drawing blood, which she swiped to open a final compartment. Kenny retrieved something from inside of it, then turned back to Christophe.

“Kyle told me he wants you on the quest to get allies for Sony.” She stood and walked back over to him. “Or, technically, Larnion’s joint quest with Kupa to find allies in the fight against Nyght. Gregory and I are finalizing the details.” Kenny touched the letter on the desk.

“Gregory?”

“Yeah. He writes all of these. You can tell because Cartman would never let Butters add on a hello– at least, not more than once. Gregory just signs it with Cartman’s name because he has to give him credit. But that’s not important.” Kenny took Christophe’s hands and placed a velvet box in them. “I want you to have this on you during the quest.” Christophe looked down at the little box and opened it. Inside lay a pendant shaped like a heart, inlaid with glittering jewels and delicate gold holding it together.

“What ees zis?” Christophe murmured, scared that if he spoke too loudly he’d shatter the precious thing.

“An old family heirloom,” Kenny smiled. “One of the only things I was able to grab before everything was gone.”

“I can’t take zis,” Christophe shook his head and shut the box, but Kenny wrapped his hands around it and pushed it gently towards him.

“It’s only a temporary gift,” she admitted. “I’m expecting it back when you return. But when you go out into the rest of Zaron, this will let people know you’re a friend of Sony.”

“Why would I need zat? Sony ees gone, pas vrai?”

“It’s got at least a few supporters out there. Trust me.” Kenny winked, grinning mischievously. Christophe awkwardly chuckled, too confused to even question what she meant by that. Perhaps the princess was just delusional, but she was friendly and entrusting him with perhaps the only thing besides herself that remained of the McCormick line. It was only fair that Christophe let her know her trust was not misplaced.

“I’ll take eet with me.” He carefully tucked the box in one of his pockets. “And I’ll take care of eet. I promise.”

“Thanks Christophe.” Kenny leaned up and kissed his cheek, pulling back and laughing as his face scrunched in displeasure. She took her mask from where she’d placed it and put it back on. The two walked to the door, which Kenny opened and ushered Christophe out. A servant passing by gave them a quizzical look.

“Thank you so much for showing me proper flower care, Mr. Gardener,” Kenny said, a bit louder than necessary. “I’m sure that the bouquet from Kyle will last twice as long now.” The servant bought the clumsy alibi and kept walking. Kenny winked and gave Christophe a thumbs up before shutting the door. As he walked away, he paused briefly, frowning in confusion. Christophe could’ve sworn Kenny had drawn blood to open the secret compartment for the pendent. Why did her thumb look completely fine?

There were plenty of people upset that Christophe was Kyle’s choice of representative for the upcoming quest for allies. Most had expected him to choose Stan, or maybe Ike, even Leslie would’ve been better as far as everyone was concerned. It didn’t help that Kyle offered only a vague interest in the flora of the Enchanted Forest as an explanation. The grumblings from nobles died down eventually, however, especially with the two dukes announcing their selections.

Duke Bradley, of course, sent Don, who was also selected to be officially in charge of their whole group. The two came to the palace about a week before they would all depart and Don spent his whole time overseeing and critiquing the process. Bradley was an odd man that Christophe had barely spoken to since their first conversation, in which he asked if Christophe had ever considered cross pollinating a mint bush with a berry bush to make a new powerful scent. After Christophe rightfully called him out as the idiot he was, Bradley nearly had Christophe permanently locked up. Even though Kyle smoothed things over, it was better to not talk to Bradley ever again and risk breaking the thin ice Christophe knew he was on with him.

Duke Mark’s choice came as no surprise either, as most everyone knew his younger sister Rebecca to be one of Larnion’s greatest academic minds. Christophe met her for the first time when the two siblings arrived a day after Bradley and Don. She was a bit odd, constantly playing with and tapping her fingers together, eyes darting around too quickly to hold anyone’s stare. Maybe it was the constant shut in studying that had made her that way, or the overprotectiveness that Mark showed, or just how she was. Christophe wasn’t certain if she had even experienced any of the world that she knew so much about, which only validated the decision for Don to be the leader of their mission.

With Rebecca now there, the three of them met to discuss exactly what they should be doing and might encounter. Christophe wished Kyle could sit in on the meeting, but he was too busy with other royal duties. This left him to be little more than decoration that was looked down on everytime it tried to speak, as Don ignored him and Rebecca, though she kept looking at Christophe curiously, deferred to whatever Don was doing.

“So once we meet with those Kupa selections here, we’ll set sail,” Don said, pointing to a point on the map spread out on the table. “I still can’t believe Kyle agreed to let them fly their colors on our ship. The nerve of that damn wizard for even asking.”

“I’m more surprised we even have a ship,” Rebecca said, her leg bouncing quickly, absentmindedly. “No one’s participated in maritime trade in centuries. Not since we fell out of favor with the Federation. Do you ever think about how they used to be elves just like us?”

“No,” Don answered plainly. “Elves in the Federation are as long gone as pirates. They’re all Moorish now.”

“I heard they kept some traditions.” Rebecca bit her lip as she leaned forward, her fingers tapping on the table. “The Moorish might look more like orcs but they still act like elves. Isn’t that fascinating? Isn’t it just the perfect example of cultural integration?”

“Well, if that’s true, then maybe we’ll have some common ground,” Don said, dismissing the rest of her excitement. “It’s as good a segway as any into talks of alliance. Now, after them we’ll go to the Enchanted Forest and I plan to leave much of that discussion in Kupa’s hands. They already have a connection there, don’t they?”

“They have a faerie in Kupa Keep,” Rebecca nodded. “Nichole Black. The Grand Wizard King had her brought over to study the faerie’s inherent magic. She was supposed to go back but, well, she didn’t.”

“So she was kidnapped,” Christophe said. Rebecca’s eyes flitted to him and then to Don, who rolled his eyes and sighed.

“That’s a cruel rumor started during our times of conflict with Kupa,” Don said. “She actually married but her husband is one of Kupa’s only skilled healers which meant he couldn’t leave. She chose to stay and enlist in one of Kupa’s battalions. I’ve seen her before on the battlefield. If all faeries are as fierce as her, we’re going to appreciate that they’re already friendly with our companions.”

What Don was describing sounded like kidnapping with extra steps and a prettier cover story, but Christophe decided to drop it. Especially since Rebecca took over the conversation, going over what she knew of dwarven society. It sounded complicated, more complicated that Christophe cared to memorize, and he was only in the room listening to this plan for show. All of his energy was meant to be devoted to Gregory, and Christophe didn’t think he was something Rebecca had ever read about nor someone Don needed to convince of the benefits of an alliance with Larnion. He was a project for Christophe and Christophe alone.

Their departure from Larnion was grand, with Kyle, Bradley, and Mark throwing a whole procession in their honor. Christophe felt a bit overwhelmed by the whole affair, especially dressed in the nicest clothes he’d ever touched in his entire life. The collar was too tight, the fabric too stiff from newness, and the jacket had small coattails that kept getting caught on things. Kyle had assured Christophe that he could change once the carriage had left, but an event as big as the sendoff required formal clothes.

“Plus, if you take good care of the outfit, you can wear it at my wedding,” Kyle said. “You should, too.” He adjusted the cravat and ran his hands along Christophe’s chest, smoothing out any wrinkles in the vest fabric. ”You look good.” Christophe fought to keep the blush that reddened his face at a minimum.

“Oui. Your… Your wedding.” He said it a bit forcefully, as a reminder to himself more than anything else. “To Kenny?”

“Mhm.”

“Ees zat something you’re looking forward to?” Christophe hoped Kyle understood the question he was really implying. Kyle frowned, understanding but a bit annoyed at him for asking. He answered nonetheless.

“Maybe,” Kyle said. “We’re talking about it.” Christophe nodded, not wanting to press further into who exactly was included in this “we”.

The carriage ride took about a week, travelling through hills and towns and dense forest. Don and Rebecca kept to themselves mostly, Don with his planning and Rebecca with books and a journal she’d brought to document the journey. Christophe found this agreeable. He spent most of his time staring out the carriage window, especially once they passed into what used to be Northern Larnion.

Seeing his home the way he was now, with a sort of status and far removed from the grit of life as a mercenary, was something he’d never expected. Finding beauty had always seemed a struggle, one well worth it but still a struggle, but now he saw that cities dripped with it. It seemed like they always had, like he’d been crazy to think beauty impossible to find. There was something upsetting about this new realization, but Christophe couldn’t voice why. Either way, he decided, after this trip, Northern Larnion wasn’t worth returning to.

Chapter Text

Christophe grew up isolated and landlocked, then never bothered to find his way to Northern Larnion’s coast prior to his life in Larnion’s capital. Many old songs spoke of the freedom of the ocean and he’d heard Jimmy sing a few of them. He’d be lying if he said he never considered it in all his time running away. Still, ultimately, Christophe never understood the pull. The thought of being separated from the ground so long that his legs might quake and find the earth unfamiliar when he returned upset him.

Because of that, this was the first time Christophe had ever been to a seaside town and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He was used to grime, but the way it clung wetly to everything was new and terrible. The stench too– rotting fish and brine assaulted his senses when Christophe stepped out of the carriage. Don, his face scrunched and equally displeased, huffed beside him.

“Elves were not made to leave the woods,” Don muttered. Christophe grunted in agreement. It felt odd to be on the same page as him. Rebecca delighted in the experience, a grin across her face and her body bouncing even when it was standing still.

“Are we going to get to meet Charlotte tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.

“Actually there’s been a change in plans,” Don sighed. “Northern Larnion’s regent is a bit too preoccupied to meet with us. Nyght found out about our alliance with Kupa and has started directly attacking our border towns.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “We may not be safe ourselves. I want to leave as soon as those Kupa diplomats arrive and I’ve approved the ship along with their head representative. You’ve met him, haven’t you?” Don glanced at Christophe, who blinked in surprise at Don not only acknowledging him but asking a question. He nodded in response.

“We spoke when ‘e came with ze princess.”

“Yes, it’s a shame I was only there on their arrival day and had to go back to Bradley right after the… meeting.” Don cleared his throat, his eyes flicking in Rebecca’s direction. She didn’t notice, too fascinated by the fishing boats in the water. Christophe wasn’t sure why they knew of the prophecy and she didn’t, but Kyle had chosen who was in his inner circle for a reason.

“So you never met any of ze ‘umans,” Christophe said.

“Not on friendly terms,” Don said. “Of course I remember the brief time Gregory of Yardale served as the commander of Kupa’s main army. We were enemies then but I could still recognize and respect his strategic genius.” He let out a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, talking more to himself than anyone now. “Dai knows what those other humans will be like, but I expect some manners and decorum from him at least.” 

“Can I go and talk to them?” Rebecca asked, pointing to the dock workers, completely oblivious (or indifferent) to the conversation that had been happening right next to her. “I want to know what sort of things they’ve seen and how far out into the waters they’ve gone. All of my maps are at least a century or two old and—”

“Mhm, go ahead,” Don interrupted, not in the mood to hear about the history of maritime trade yet again. “And you go with her.” He gestured to Christophe. “I’ll inspect the accommodations Charlotte requested we and the entourage be given for our time here.” Christophe wanted to protest, but Rebecca grabbed his hand and dragged him with her, excitedly babbling about how she could learn about the waters surrounding the continent and practice her northern elvish at the same time. She had insisted that Christophe listen and correct her earlier on the journey. Her accent could use a lot of work, but her grammar was alright. He hadn’t told her that– just shrugged in vague approval.

The diplomats from Kupa arrived later the next day, about midafternoon, and Don immediately whisked Gregory away to go over the ship preparations. Christophe managed to get in one second of eye contact and Gregory gave him the briefest nod of acknowledgement before he turned all his focus to Don. It made sense, but irked Christophe nonetheless. Besides the fact that his one job was to keep an eye on Gregory, being left alone to make small talk with Rebecca and the other humans was the last thing he wanted to do. Rebecca asked too many invasive questions about half elves for his liking and Christophe was immediately wary of the two humans.

One came across sort of a klutz, a fumbling ranger who carried himself like a self important coward and had only praise in response to Rebecca’s questions about Kupa and the wizard. The other was a bit quiet, distracted, jumping with a yelp whenever someone touched him to bring him back to reality. His uniform, though disheveled, was highly decorated and Christophe could tell he had significant muscle under it too. Christophe wondered– was this really some of Kupa’s best? Or did they just send an expendable yes-man and absent-minded warrior who would automatically default to Gregory, who in turn would default to the wizard? Either way, Christophe didn’t care for them, especially when the ranger also started asking questions about half elves.

“Is it hard to make a half elf?” the ranger asked only minutes after meeting Christophe. “Like, are you rare?”

“Half elves have always been uncommon,” Rebecca answered, ever eager to share knowledge. “Even back when neutral territories existed, there were very few documented marriages between elves and humans. We’ve always just been so separate. Christophe’s the only half elf I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, me too.” The ranger reached out to try and touch Christophe’s ears, but Christophe smacked his hand away and snarled at him. The ranger shrunk back and Rebecca frowned at Christophe in a way that seemed disapproving. He left them to go smoke his pipe, which helped but not by much. The leaves were damper than usual thanks to the seaside air, burning slow and tasting slightly of salt. He wasn’t looking forward to the projected weeks of this, but likely even worse, out at sea and sailing to an unfamiliar land.

Not satisfied with his smoke, Christophe decided to wander over to the docks again and catch a glimpse of Gregory. He wasn’t on the docks, but instead aboard the deck of the grand ship they would embark on. Christophe assumed it was grand at least– it was much bigger than any of the fishing boats or sailboats he’d seen, with two tall masts adorned with sails sporting the ugly red and blue crest of Kupa Keep. He grimaced. By “flying Kupa’s colors”, Christophe had assumed it would just be a small flag atop everything, not this tasteless mess that could no doubt be seen from miles away.

“It looks so official now!” a voice behind Christophe squealed. He tensed, startled, only to find Rebecca and the Kupa humans. Rebecca seemed delighted, clapping her hands together. “Oh, I can’t wait to set sail! Can you believe it? We get to spend months at sea. Months!”

“Y-You want to be on that– nngh– thing for that long?” the jittery warrior asked. He looked as wary as Christophe felt at the prospect, or maybe he always looked that way.

“Who wouldn’t?” Rebecca beamed. “Did you know, back when the Federation were elves, some of them spent their whole lives out at sea? Most people think they did all their navigation by stars, but I’ve read some historical accounts claiming they used technology beyond our understanding. It was back during the reign of Dovahkiin so most everything is lost to time but I do wonder if they have any personal records left.”

Rebecca continued to ramble on about what she knew of the Federation and what else she hoped they would see on their trip. Christophe slipped away as soon as he felt he could– he’d already heard weeks of this and would no doubt have to hear countless weeks more. It wasn’t that he hated her in particular, he was just already tired of the whole thing. Christophe just didn’t have the patience for diplomatic work.

The night before they were to set sail, the city threw a grand festival with dancing and a feast. They had been preparing for such an occasion anyway, though mostly for when the queen regent Charlotte showed up. Christophe couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable about how gleeful everyone seemed. This trip was about gathering allies for a war that was already at their doorsteps; it’s why Charlotte was absent. It’s why Gregory and the other humans were here, laughing and mingling like everything was fine.

To make matters worse, Don had forced Christophe to wear the fancy outfit. It was still stiff with newness and hard to breathe in, making his awkward standing around more uncomfortable. The only reason he’d caved was because Don reminded him that he was there representing Kyle. Kyle did like how Christophe had looked in the outfit, hadn’t he? He would appreciate knowing Christophe looked nice for his sake. It’s what he had to keep telling himself at least.

The Kupa diplomats were all in their full regalia too and Gregory’s eyes widened when he saw Christophe. Talking with Gregory was all Christophe was on this mission for, but he still felt annoyed that it was only now, dressed up like this, that Gregory finally approached him.

“Hello Christophe,” he smiled. “Sorry we didn’t get to chat earlier. It’s lovely to see you again.” Christophe grunted in acknowledgement but Gregory had already learned that he’d need to force conversation if he really wanted it.

“You know, I was surprised when I heard you’d been selected as a representative for this,” Gregory said. “I had thought King Kyle would want someone more used to politics. I presume you had to go through a lot of training to catch up to Don and Rebecca.”

“Something like zat,” Christophe shrugged.

“Of course. But now you’re here, dressed the part and everything. May I?” Gregory held his hands half up, looking to Christophe for permission. What for, Christophe wasn’t quite sure, but he cautiously nodded. Gregory reached out and fiddled with Christophe’s collar. Breathing was suddenly much easier and Christophe’s chest rose and fell as he relished in that.

“There we go,” Gregory murmured. “It was folded all wrong. You really don’t know how to wear this, do you?”

“I already ‘ate wearing zis shit. You don’t ‘ave to point out zat I look stupid.”

“You don’t look stupid, Christophe,” Gregory sighed. “You look nice. Proper, like a diplomat ought to. I meant more… it doesn’t seem very you , is all.” Christophe huffed, irritated. Politics and being proper didn’t suit him, true, but he heard the underlying message: You don’t belong here . It was obvious in the way that Gregory frowned when he said it and the exasperated look he gave in return to Christophe glaring at him.

“You can’t bristle at every comment like this,” Gregory said. “You’re a representative, for Dai’s sake. We’re going to be meeting people who might be rude or hostile, but we need their support. You’ve got to learn to keep face. Didn’t your training cover that?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Christophe scowled.

“I’m sure,” Gregory said in a clipped way that told Christophe he didn’t believe that. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Rebecca I’d talk with her about some of Kupa Keep’s history books I brought with me.” He nodded as a goodbye before slipping away. Christophe let him, too pissed to care about talking to and investigating him further. He had the whole trip to do so, and anyway hadn’t Gregory just alluded to being two-faced? At least, that’s how Christophe was interpreting his comment about needing to “keep face” in front of people he needed the support of. He’d never seen Kyle never compromise himself, so neither would he. Kyle knew what he was doing, so obviously Christophe knew what he was doing– fuck Gregory’s preconceived notions.

Not even Kyle could’ve kept Christophe there after the human ranger (Scott, apparently) tried once again to interrogate him about being a half elf again, this time with a few other elves from the city joining in. For a bit, he regretted having pushed Gregory away earlier in the evening; he would’ve known where to draw the line. He’d been nice enough to hold his tongue when he first met Christophe anyway. Gregory spent the party talking with Don and Rebecca, though, leaving Christophe to sort out the situation on his own. As much as he wanted to, Christophe knew punching Scott would cause more problems than it would solve, especially since they were going to be stuck together on an inescapable ship for the foreseeable future.

He opted to run off instead.

So much of the land was rock and sand, inhospitable to the greenery Christophe was used to, but he managed to find a small hill with dry grass overlooking the beach. The dirt wasn’t the quality he was used to, but it was still dirt. Christophe lay down and dug his fingers in the ground, gripping the soil, and sighed. His fancy outfit might have a stain now, but he felt much calmer.

“Y-You too, huh?”

Christophe’s head whipped around and he saw the human warrior standing a little ways off. He scowled.

“Did you follow me?”

“No!” The warrior held up his hands defensively. “Argh, I mean– I did but not intentionally! I-I just was feeling really anxious around all those– nngh– people and saw you leave. I figured it’d be a good excuse for me to leave too.”

“And zat’s all? Ze only reason?” The warrior nodded in response but Christophe narrowed his eyes. “You’re not ‘ere to ask me about my ears or talk about me I’m like some freak?”

“No way, man! Was Scott doing that again?” The warrior looked sympathetic. “I wanted to say something before but I was n-nervous.” Moonlight was all Christophe had to see by, so it was hard to get a real read on the warrior, but his tone sounded genuine. Christophe sighed and lay back down. The warrior took this as an invite to step closer and sit next to him on the hill, which it was not. Christophe glared at him, which for some reason made the warrior smile.

“Do you wanna fight?”

“Hein?” Christophe frowned in confusion.

“Argh, sorry, I-I’m just sick of this stupid outfit a-and just standing around!” The warrior grit his teeth and messed with his buttons. “All these buttons– it’s like when I was working at my parents’– nngh– stupid shop all over again! I just wanna rip it off a-and punch something!” He balled his fists up and made a punching motion to accentuate his point. Christophe found himself smiling a bit in appreciation. It’d been a while since he’d actually fist-fought someone, but he always liked having something to do with his hands.

“Eef you are offering, zen I will be ‘appy to beat you up,” Christophe said, standing and unbuttoning his top. The warrior looked relieved as he set about shedding his own stuffy outfit.

“No way are you gonna beat me up, man. I mean, you’re King Kyle’s gardener, aren’t you?”

“Mm, zat’s right.” Christophe kicked off his pants, leaving him in an undershirt and boxers. “And you are?”

“D-Did you not have to learn who we were before you got here?” The warrior seemed frustrated at the idea. “Gregory made us study you guys the whole carriage ride here! Argh– I’m Tweek, barbarian commander of Kupa Keep’s capital army?!”

Tweek gestured to himself like that was supposed to help Christophe remember. Christophe shrugged; he didn’t remember, but he would now. Incensed, Tweek launched himself at Christophe, hitting him square in the gut. Christophe grit his teeth, baring the pain, and swung for Tweek’s face in retaliation. It wasn’t the hardest he could hit, but it was hard enough that the skin where the blow landed was already yellowing, hinting at a next-day bruise. Tweek touched where Christophe had just hit, wincing slightly. He recovered from his shock quickly, dodging Christophe’s next punch and trying to tackle him to the ground. They fell, wrestling and trading blows until they mutually agreed to stop.

The breeze coming off the ocean and the night air were a welcome coolness in contrast to Christophe’s heavy breathing. His body buzzed with energy still and, despite how he’d disliked it earlier, he knew smoking would be the best solution. With a grunt, Christophe sat up and walked to where he’d left his pants. Tweek watched him as he found what he was looking for in his pockets and lit up.

“Gah, that smells awful,” Tweek said, wrinkling his nose. Christophe blew a puff in his direction, making Tweek cough. He moved to sit a little ways in front of Christophe, upwind of the smoke. Despite this, the silence between them was amicable. This moment, post-fight quiet besides the waves lapping beneath them, was much more their speed than whatever was happening at the festival.

“A-Are you worried at all?” Tweek asked, breaking the silence after a while.

“What do you mean? Are you wondering eef I’m worried about something een particular, or eef I am just… worried?”

“I meant the diplomacy thing but also in general? This whole war with the Nyght– nngh–  rebellion.”

“Mm.” Christophe fiddled with the pipe in his fingers. He wasn’t about to admit that he was only here to keep an eye on Gregory and didn’t really care about whether or not the diplomacy mission went well. The war wasn’t something he felt strongly about either– this was Kupa’s conflict first and foremost. They pulled Larnion into it, but that didn’t bother Christophe outside of knowing how Kyle would stress over it, and maybe even get involved in the conflict himself.

“I zink ze whole war ees stupid,” Christophe settled on. “So I don’t care. But others do, so I’ll worry a little bit for zem.” Tweek frowned, seeming to have expected this answer but still not be very happy with it.

“It is stupid,” he agreed, “but I think that means you should care more. People are dying over because some – nngh– stupid people betrayed Kupa for stupid reasons. It’s because they didn’t care that we’re in this mess.” Tweek’s face was hardset and he stared out at the sea angrily. The way he said it made Christophe wonder if he really idolized loyalty to Kupa or if he was upset at someone, or ones, in particular. He hoped it was the latter. There was potential camaraderie here. If they could do this again, the mindless fight with no consequences, this upcoming trip might actually be bearable.

It was impossible to put this mission off for any longer. The sounds of celebrations and lights in the town were quieter now, signaling that it was about time to retire for the night. Christophe could picture Don and Gregory’s appalled faces now, seeing the state he and Tweek were in. Having them pissed at him wasn’t how he wanted to start the trip, but he could spin it into a smartass comment about bonding and strengthening the alliance between Kupa and Larnion. They’d eat that shit up.

Christophe gathered his clothes from where they lay near him. They weren’t ruined, but they weren’t nearly as nice as they’d been when Kyle had presented them to him. There was dirt and grass clinging to them and Christophe ran his fingers over it. Now they actually looked like clothes he’d own.

“Y-You coming, man?” Tweek, having also stood and collected his clothes, looked at Christophe over his shoulder. Christophe took a deep breath, trying his best to smell the dirt and greenery they stood on. It was there, but barely, already too drowned by the ocean salt.

“Oui, I’m coming.” Christophe followed Tweek down the hill, back into town, and the worry finally started to set in.

Chapter Text

Gregory once fancied that, in another life, he could’ve been a privateer. It was a game he and Wendy used to play when they were young and first learned that people used to live out on the waters. She was the fearsome Captain Wendy and he would try to chase her down and destroy her ship, successfully protecting the people of Kupa Keep. Once, they convinced Bebe and Butters to join them, Bebe as Wendy’s first mate and Butters as Gregory’s. Kupa lost terribly that day, but it had still been fun. Gregory wondered if she still remembered it all as fondly as he did and what she would say to him now, as the ship cast off from Northern Larnion.

Mere days into the journey, Gregory started to suspect there was a reason beyond kingdoms isolating that no one sailed anymore. Waves rocked the ship constantly, making doing anything an incredibly difficult task. He adjusted fairly well, only suffering the most when it came to eating without spilling all over himself, but many others were much worse off. Scott complained how he kept being thrown out of his bed in the middle of the night and Christophe turned out to be very prone to seasickness. The crew they had hired tried their best to offer suggestions, but they were mostly fishermen by trade. Actually living at sea was as new for them as it was for everyone.

Gregory took solace in the fact that their allyship was already a rousing success. To him, King Kyle and the princess’ marriage, though suspicious, was a blessing. He’d always loved elven culture and wanted to connect with them, but he had never quite known where others stood on their merging kingdoms. Rebecca was of the same mindset and Gregory took much delight in talking with her about what this could mean for their futures.

“I think Zaron is on its way to another age of unity,” she often said. “It’s always hinged on Larnion and Kupa Keep, after all.”

Gregory thought it was a bit early to assume that, but he wanted peace as badly as she did so he didn’t pick apart her dreams. Besides, she was the first person he’d met who knew even the smallest bit about Yardale and was excited to listen to him talk about it. Even Don, who Gregory had thought would enjoy history, seemed to only sit in on their discussions for lack of anything better to do. He was polite at least, and Gregory appreciated that.

Scott got along more with the sailors of the crew, elves that he’d gotten to know at the party before the castoff. Gregory picked up on how operating a ship worked a little bit, but Scott really figured it out after only a day and started helping. He even volunteered to be a part of the night crew, though that might have started from him being awake nightly anyway from his poor sleeping situation.

The most exciting show of allyship, though, had to be Tweek and Christophe. Gregory had been devastated when he first saw the two of them the night before they were all about to leave. It was a bad sign of things to come if they were already fighting. Don had lectured furiously at Christophe, and while Gregory was upset too, he felt the way Don was speaking was going just a bit overboard. Before he had a chance to intervene though, Tweek stepped in and said the fighting had been his idea. Besides, it had been a fun fight. No hard feelings before or after.

It was a relief to Gregory that the two of them got along. As much as he wanted to believe he and Christophe could be close, lately it’d been hard to convince himself. He always felt like he was trying to reach out but Christophe was a brick wall, scrutinizing his every move. After Christophe spent the first day at sea groaning over a bucket, Gregory went to him with a hot cup of tea.

“Feeling any better?” he’d asked. Christophe scowled in reply, more than enough to answer Gregory’s question. He held out the cup. “Here.”

“Ah, merci, because zat ees just what I want. Something else for me to throw up later,” Christophe said bitterly. “Beetch.”

“I can see where you’re coming from, but this will help. It’s chamomile.” Gregory held the cup toward him again, more insistently this time.

“Non. I know what chamomile smells like, zat ees more zan chamomile. You can’t trick me into drinking zat shit.” Christophe started to close the door, but Gregory stopped it with his foot.

“For Dai’s sake, won’t you just trust me?” he sighed. “This is going to help you, Christophe.” He shoved the cup into Christophe’s hands. “If it doesn’t, you can come throw up all over my room or something.” Gregory turned and quickly walked off, not wanting to know if Christophe drank the tea or simply poured it on the floor. It didn’t matter. If he was intent on being purposefully difficult, Gregory wasn’t going to offer it to him again.

Their connection in the garden was a distant memory, more like a dream. Gregory racked his memories trying to figure out what he’d done or said that made him the enemy and the only thing Gregory could come up with was potential anti-human backlash going on in Larnion. He’d heard reverse grumblings from Kupa’s side, after all. Many of them had fought in prior wars against the elves, or internalized all the propaganda the Grand Wizard spouted without realizing it needed to be questioned. Larnion surely had much less propaganda (he hoped) but the personal grudges of generations of war had to color their perception in some way.

While he was once again stumped on the reason, the way Christophe befriended Tweek at least assuaged Gregory’s fears of this diplomatic mission turning into a disaster. This was his moment, his chance to show the world that they were better united than divided. If it had gone up in smoke before it even began, Gregory wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Guilt weighed on him heavy enough, knowing that Larnion too was now suffering due to his failure with La Resistance. He had to fix it.

Another downside of life on the ocean was waking up to the wet stench in the air. Gregory had gotten used to it after a week out at sea, but he never enjoyed it. He made his way above deck as soon as he could, hoping the fresh sea air would be just a bit better. Much of the crew was already milling about, including Scott. 

“Up early, I see,” Gregory said as he approached him. “Helping out as usual?”

“Yeah,” Scott said. “Wind’s picking up today.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Depends on if it keeps blowing the direction we want. We’re letting the full sails out hoping it’s good though.” Indeed the sails were unfurled to their full glory, colors bright in the morning sun. Gregory harbored a small petty dislike of Kupa’s insignia, feeling robbed of Yardale’s superior one, but he did feel a swell of pride at seeing it fly on the sails. Their grandness, full in the wind, felt so official and important.

“Well, let me know if anything changes,” Gregory said. “Are the others awake?”

“Tweek is. I saw him getting breakfast.” Scott gestured towards the stairs leading back the way Gregory had come. Breakfast sounded like an excellent idea to Gregory too, so he nodded a goodbye to Scott and went to the dining room below. Indeed Tweek was there with Christophe sitting next to him, groaning with his head on the table.

“Good morning,” Gregory greeted them.

“No eet’s not,” Christophe grunted in reply. Gregory chuckled a little at this as he got himself a piece of hard bread and jam.

“There’s– mn– coffee left,” Tweek said as Gregory picked up a cup. He’d guessed that that was what was in Tweek’s cup, given the strong, bitter smell in the air, but Gregory shook his head. Coffee was far too acrid a taste and he’d disliked it all of the few times he’d tried it. Being made on a ship couldn’t be doing it any favors either.

“You sure?” Tweek asked.

“I’m sure,” Gregory nodded. “Besides, Scott just told me that the ship may be moving faster today with the strong winds and I won’t risk my stomach with that and coffee. The stuff never sits right with me.”

“Ze stupid boat ees going to get worse today? Shit!” Christophe banged his fist on the table frustratedly. Gregory frowned sympathetically. It had to be so depressing to have to spend the whole day way below deck like Christophe tended to, but he supposed it was better than getting sick everywhere.

While the wind was strong all day, the rocking of the boat didn’t worsen until much later. He and Rebeeca had been watching Christophe and Tweek spar after dinner. Tweek was teaching Christophe some of his signature barbarian moves, something Gregory had really only ever observed, not studied. It wasn’t as if he’d assumed there was zero thought behind them, but they did come across as erratic and impulsive. That was a key part of the strategy, according to Tweek.

“If you never know what might happen, neither will they,” he said. “A-And you don’t ever know what’ll happen! There’s always new shit people try and throw at me, man!”

“A good strategy leaves room for adaptation,” Gregory agreed. Rebecca nodded alongside him, taking furious notes. Her pen scratched the paper in a wild zigzag as the boat suddenly lurched. Christophe immediately fell to his knees and looked green. The waves out in the distance looked to be getting choppier.

“Oh dear,” Gregory murmured. “This won’t make for a fun night, will it?”

“I think the ship can handle it,” Rebecca said. “It was made to withstand long, treacherous voyages.”

“The ship, sure, but what about her passengers?” He frowned as Christophe shakily stood and rushed to get below deck. Another wave crashed the side of the boat and though it held steady, Gregory felt concerned. The sky seemed to be darkening in a way other than the setting of the sun.

“You two head below,” he said to Tweek and Rebecca. “I’ll talk to the crew and see what they make of this in the meantime.” The pair left as Gregory found one member of the crew at the helm, an elven woman who acted as captain. An uncertain frown was set on her face as she stared up at the sky.

“Should we prepare for an emergency or anything?” Gregory asked. The captain jumped a little, having not noticed him before, but shook her head.

“We should be fine,” she said. “Maybe in for a rough night as we position ourselves to cut through these bigger waves, but fine. While it looks like all the elements of a storm, my barometer isn’t registering one.”

“That’s odd.”

“Odd, sure, but I’m taking it as good news. Just stay below deck, sir.” She spoke with confidence so, despite his worries, Gregory listened and made his way below. He let Tweek and Rebecca know there was no cause for concern and asked them to pass the message along. Everything was fine. He was certain of that as he lay down to sleep.

A rough shake abruptly woke Gregory some hours later. Someone was desperately hissing his name and as he came to, he realized it was Scott. Gregory held up a hand to shush him and rub the last of sleep out of his eyes.

“Scott, what in Dai’s name..?” he started to mutter, but as Gregory finally really looked at Scott, fully awake and eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the sheer terror on Scott’s face. A chill went through his body and he quickly gripped Scott’s arms, bracing himself. “What’s happened?”

“There’s…” Scott shook like a leaf, pale with fright but he sounded confused more than anything as he spoke. “There’s a pirate ship headed our way.”

Gregory thought for a moment that he was still half asleep and misheard Scott, or entirely asleep and dreaming. Still, he quickly followed Scott up to the deck of the ship and there indeed, on the horizon and fast approaching, was another ship. The whole crew of his own ship stood watching this too, their faces full of the same terror and confusion as Scott’s. Gregory quickly spotted an elf holding a telescope. He went over to them and held out his hand. The elf handed it to him and he looked through it.

It was a massive and intimidating ship, clearly fortified and boasting jet black sails. Canons lined the sides, as well as large pointed objects that seemed fashioned out of the bones of some large animal. The hull too screamed danger, razor sharp to cut through waves and anything the ship might want to ram into. A blood red flag flying atop the tallest mast made Gregory’s stomach lurch worse than any rough waters had their entire trip. He remembered what that meant from back during his play days with Wendy, but this was clearly not play.

“They intend to kill us,” Gregory breathed, the reality of the situation and panic finally setting in. The lookout beside him stiffened.

“They’re gonna kill us?!” Scott shouted from behind him, alerting everyone else on deck.

“That’s what a red flag means,” Gregory said, handing the telescope to Scott so he could see for himself. Scott looked, his brows furrowed. He sputtered out a few half sentences of denial, before finally shaking his head.

“But why!”

“I don’t know,” Gregory shook his head, “but if that is truly their plan, we don’t have time to worry about a reason. We need to form a plan now.”

Chapter Text

Fighting back was the most obvious option and Gregory’s first choice, but Scott quickly shut it down, scrunching his face in denial and shaking his head.

“This isn’t a combat ship! And even if it was, they’ve never fought at sea before!” He gestured helplessly at the ship and crew. Scott was right, now that Gregory was thinking about it. To their knowledge, no one had fought at sea for centuries. He even remembered touring the ship with Don and one of the people in charge of restoring it for the journey mentioned that they’d taken out the defunct canons. There was no need for those big bulky things, and getting rid of them freed up space for more ration storage. Both Gregory and Don had approved of such a practical decision.

He’d made the right decision then, given what information he’d had in the moment; he had to remind himself of that as he felt the impulse to curse himself. There was no time for lamenting hindsight. Gregory had to follow his own advice and act fast.

With no way to retaliate on equal grounds and a clearly experienced ship in pursuit, they had two clear options: stay and fight as they were, or flee. They had some of Zaron’s best warriors on board among the diplomats and their bodyguards, but the crew was entirely civilians. Beside them he had to worry about Rebecca and Christophe, both never having seen combat before. Christophe might have been able to handle himself well enough on land, especially with Tweek training him, but here on the waves he could keel over sick any moment. They would be overwhelmed for certain, especially if the entire pirate crew were fighters.

Besides, if the pirate ship fired their canons or rammed into the ship at all, it wouldn’t matter how experienced their fighters were. They’d be doomed. Even if they managed to live through the fight, they were too far from any shore to dock their ship and fix it before sinking. No matter what, Gregory couldn’t see a scenario where they stayed on board and lived. The other option didn’t boast a high chance of survival either, but it was their best bet. He turned to face the crew.

“Everyone, start loading all the lifeboats with enough supplies to last us a trip back to Larnion.”

“A trip back to Larnion?! In the shitty little lifeboats?!” Scott’s eyes were wide with terror. “There’s no way we could do that, you’re insane!”

“We can,” Gregory said, trying to convince Scott as much as he was trying to convince himself. “It’ll be tough, but not impossible. Take bedding and other materials to rig them to be like sailboats. If we don’t light any lanterns, it’ll be near impossible to see us in the dark water. With that, rowing in shifts, and proper rationing, we could just barely escape and make it back.” He could see the gears turning in everyone’s minds, doing their own calculations and coming to similar conclusions. No one looked happy about it, but they could do it if they had to (which they did).

“But… But…” Scott frowned. “What about the diplomacy mission?” Gregory’s heart sank. He had to be afflicted by some terrible curse. It ruined everything he put his hope into, from this mission, his perfect chance at breaking free and bringing change, all the way back to Gary. The locket and his memory continued to hang heavy over Gregory’s heart.

“We’ll report it back as a failure,” Gregory said, his voice thick from trying to hold his tears back. This might be his dream, but he would not risk innocent lives trying to achieve it. There was enough death on his conscience already. Scott didn’t have that same weight, but he understood the gravity of the situation well enough. He nodded at Gregory.

“We’ll start getting everything together. C’mon you guys.” Scott rallied the crew and they headed off, some going to the lifeboats, some below deck for supplies. Gregory followed those going below and went to Tweek’s room first. He was already awake, which wasn’t all that surprising. He’d always been a light sleeper.

“Gregory? W-What’s going on?” Tweek stared wide-eyed at the crew members running past the door. “GAH! Oh Dai, there’s something wrong isn’t there?! I-Is the ship sinking?!”

“No, not sinking, but we do have to abandon it,” Gregory said. “There isn’t much time. I need you to help carry supplies up to the lifeboats.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Pirates are trying to kill us.”

“Pirates?! Those still exist?! ”

“Yes, apparently, so we have to hurry! I’ll go get our guards and then wake Don to get the rest of the elves and then come help too.” Gregory pulled the alarmed barbarian into the hall and nudged him in the direction of a crew member who had taken a bit more than they could actually carry. Despite his clear panic, Tweek adapted to the frenzied action, grabbing a crate and hurrying up the stairs. Gregory went to the rooms of the others that had come with them from Kupa Keep and sent them to help however they could.

Don’s room and the other elven quarters were on the other side of the stairs so Gregory wasn’t too shocked to find Don still asleep, oblivious to the situation. He was quite peeved when Gregory shook him awake, but quickly recognized Gregory’s urgency.

“What’s wrong?” Don asked, getting out of his bed and already going for his sword.

“There’s pirates headed toward our ship intent on killing us,” Gregory said. Don paused in the middle of putting his regalia on.

“... pirates? Really?” His tone sounded insulted, appalled that Gregory would be pulling such a prank on him.

“I swear it,” Gregory said. “You can go above deck and see them for yourself, but I made the executive order to abandon ship and go back to northern Larnion.”

“What!” Don shook his head. “Absolutely not. We have a mission, we have to see it through. We can take on some archaic water-dwelling bastards.”

“You don’t know that! They have cannons and could have a full crew of soldiers trained in ship combat, something neither you nor I know anything about. I’m not risking the civilian lives we have on board.”

“Coward’s talk,” Don scoffed. “I expected a soldier under the command of the Grand Wizard to know sometimes a little sacrifice is necessary.” Gregory bristled, then grit his teeth as he grabbed Don by the lapel.

“I’m not under his command out here,” he said in a low tone. “I’m under my own, and a good commander knows sometimes it’s smarter to fall back. The crew and everyone from Kupa has already started abandoning ship. Now you can wake everyone from Larnion to join them and keep them safe, or I will and leave you to take on the pirates all on your own.” 

Gregory huffed irritably as he let go of Don, watching as he stumbled back a bit. Don seemed shook and Gregory refused to break eye contact, though his cheeks were hot with shame. He hadn’t wanted to lose his composure like that, but he was just so stressed and infuriated. Thankfully. standing his ground seemed to work, as Don pushed past him and mumbled something about going to get Rebecca. After a deep breath to gather himself, Gregory joined the rest in preparing.

The whole affair was utter chaos, debates on weight distribution, what personal valuables could and couldn’t go. Rebecca sobbed when she was told she had to leave any books that weren’t priceless antiques. Not that any of them would fare well on the journey, given how much more exposed everything would be to the sea air in the lifeboats.

The pirate ship continued to draw closer and Gregory was, on some level, grateful for their deadly red flag. Black dominated its color scheme, making the ship almost disappear against the cloudy night. He tried to stay focused on making sure everything was set, but he couldn’t help but watch it warily in the corner of his eye the whole time. Gregory wondered if they knew they were all leaving. He hoped they didn’t.

Once they’d fit all they could, they started boarding and lowering the boats into the water. Each boat had at least a few members of the ship crew and someone from both Kupa Keep and Larnion. They hadn’t decided on that ahead of time, but Gregory had been working it out while they’d all been packing. 

When it came time to load and lower the boat he expected to put Christophe in, Gregory called for him, but there was no answer. He looked around, puzzled.

“Christophe didn’t stowaway with Scott and Don, did he?” he asked Tweek, who was halfway through getting on the boat. Tweek frowned in confusion and shook his head then, after a moment, screamed.

“GAH! H-He’s not here!”

“What?!” Gregory felt sick as he realized Tweek was right. He hadn’t noticed before with all the chaos. Rebecca gasped beside him.

“He must still be below deck!” she said.

“Didn’t Don wake him after he got you?!” Gregory asked frantically. Rebecca shrugged her shoulders and looked lost. Gregory cursed under his breath. “Surely Christophe would’ve woken up from all the noise in the halls though?”

“N-Not if he was all the way at the bottom of the boat!” Tweek said. “He told me he sleeps there sometimes when his seasickness gets really bad. Argh, I can’t believe I didn’t notice he was missing before! I-I can get him!” He started to clamber out of the lifeboat, making it rock and tilt against the ship.

“Stop!” Gregory said. He glanced nervously at the pirate ship again and it seemed like it was nearly on top of them. There was still a whole other lifeboat to load and lower; they didn’t have time to delay this one.

“Rebecca,” Gregory said, turning to her, “I want you to get in with Tweek.”

“Huh?” she squeaked.

“Take Christophe’s place,” he said, gently but urgently pushing her towards the boat. “This is one of the heaviest boats so Tweek needs to stay there so there’s enough manpower to row as far away as possible. I’ll find Christophe and we’ll take the last one.” The pair looked at him, scared and apprehensive but determined. Rebecca threw her arms around Gregory before finally stepping in the lifeboat.

“See you soon,” she said, but the way she bit her lip made it seem like she wasn’t sure if that would be true.

“Of course,” Gregory smiled, trying his best to act like he didn’t worry the same as her. “I haven’t even begun sharing what I know about the immortals. Tomorrow, perhaps, we can start. For now, may Dai see you all out of this unharmed.” Gregory made pointed eye contact with Tweek, who froze in place for a moment. There was a clear understanding what this silent exchange meant– should anything happen, he was to take Gregory’s place as leader. For a moment Gregory feared he’d crack under the pressure, crying out that it was too much, but Tweek nodded, expression resolute, and he and Rebecca descended down toward the waiting sea.

Once Gregory saw for certain that they’d safely detached from the pulley system, he turned to the few remaining crew members and guards he’d come with.

“Go ahead and start loading the last of it. I should be back shortly.” He turned and ran for the stairs, making his way below deck. Tweek had mentioned Christophe was likely at the very bottom of the ship. Each hall had a staircase on their end, one side going up and the other going down. There were more layers to the place that Gregory’s mind had remembered and he felt as if he’d been running forever by the time he reached the end of the stairs. It was like a dark damp hole here, smelling so strongly of salt and wet wood. Gregory wrinkled his nose. He was surprised this place didn’t make Christophe’s sickness worse.

“Christophe?” he called into the darkness, wishing he’d brought a lantern with him. In his rush he’d forgotten to grab one but now he felt too antsy to run back and grab one. He settled for blind groping and calling Christophe’s name again.

“Gregory?” came the half-awake and confused reply. Gregory felt his heart soar upon hearing this and headed in the direction of the voice.

“Christophe!”

“What ze fuck are you doing down here?” Christophe grumbled. He was somewhere to Gregory’s right, and down. Gregory’s eyes had also adjusted to the darkness better so he could make out the stirring shape of a man.

“We’re evacuating the ship,” Gregory said. “Hurry, nearly everyone else has left!”

“Quoi?!” Christophe scrambled to his feet. “We’re– why are we—”

“Pirates,” Gregory explained. “I made a call. The last of the crew are all above deck waiting on us, come on!”

“Us?” Christophe said, confused, still processing everything. To be fair to him, he had just woken up.

“Yes, us.” Gregory took his hands, dragging him towards the stairs. “I’m sorry to be so insistent, but time is of the essence and I’m not leaving without you!” Despite his wobbly sealegs, Christophe shook off his sleepiness and kept pace behind Gregory. The two of them dashed up the stairs and to the end of the hall. They were only two floors from the top when Gregory rounded the corner and saw a young man he didn’t recognize.

He was standing at the bottom of the stairs on the other side, decked head to toe in black clothes and silver metal. Despite the intimidating clothing, Gregory thought him to be quite young, or perhaps just small. The man’s youth and size didn’t make him any less fierce though. His eyes, the lids blackened by makeup of some kind, narrowed and his lips, similarly dark, sneered when he caught sight of the two of them.

“More of those Kupa Keep conformists down here!” he cried. Another man dressed in a dark outfit came down the stairs to his side and rushed at them, sword drawn. Gregory quickly stepped in front of Christophe and drew his own rapier at his side, meeting the man in a clash. Both were momentarily impressed with the other’s strength.

“What are you, head jock or something?” the man grimaced and flipped hair out of his face. “Whatever. I can get rid of you just like the other bootlicker conformists up above.”

“Like hell you will!” Gregory pushed the man back and slashed, only to be expertly parried. If he wasn’t so upset at the news of the probable death of everyone he’d left above deck and now fighting for his own life, he’d be thrilled by his opponent’s skill. Neither were letting the other get a hit in, pushing back and forth in the hallway. 

Adrenaline burned through his veins but Gregory could feel exhaustion weighing on him. He’d been woken up in the middle of the night and then ran all around the ship, carrying supplies and readying the lifeboats. It was hard to keep up with someone so skilled. He felt himself quivering and panic flooded his brain when a particularly hard hit knocked his sword out of his hand. Just as his opponent was about to slice at Gregory again, a shovel clocked the man upside the head, sending him to the ground.

“Tu vas bien?” Christophe asked as he turned to look at Gregory. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but he could guess well enough.

“Yes, thank you,” Gregory nodded, though he was out of breath as he said it. Christophe nodded back then stepped on the man on the ground, pinning him in place, and knocked his sword out of his hand with the end of his shovel.

“You’re not going anywhere, beetch,” he growled, then squinted at the words on the back of the man’s coat. “Why ze fuck does zis say ‘rouge’? Because of your ‘air?”

“It says Rogue , you dick,” the man scowled. “That’s my name.”

“Zat’s a stupid name,” Christophe decided. 

As Rogue sighed and rolled his eyes, Gregory noticed the young man from earlier creeping quickly toward Christophe, a dagger in his hand. No time to pick up his sword, Gregory dove toward the man before he could get to Christophe, who stared at Gregory wide eyed when he realized what had happened. The young man swore and slashed at Gregory with the dagger, nicking him above his eye and opening a gash on his side before Gregory wrestled it from his grip and pinned him to the wall.

“Staind!” Rogue cried from the ground, struggling to get out from under Christophe. Gregory couldn’t help but laugh, a little delirious from the blood now trickling out of him. Now seeing the man up close, Gregory was certain he was much younger than him. That, or he had quite the baby face, despite all the piercings; they decorated his brows and lip and ears. The last of those caught Gregory’s attention and his eyes widened.

“Are you a half elf!?” he asked incredulously. Christophe’s head whipped around.

“What did you just ask ‘im?”

“His ears are just like yours, so I—” Gregory stopped and glanced down at Rogue, wondering if he too had the small but pointed ears that Christophe and Staind both sported. Turning away proved to be a mistake as Staind used the brief distraction to break free and push Gregory away. Gregory stumbled back and barely dodged out of the way when Staind charged at him again with a second dagger. The next attack missed too but caused Gregory to trip backwards and land on his back. In an instant Christophe was above him, shoving Staind back with his shovel.

“Wait!” Finally free, Rogue scrambled to his feet and stood in between Christophe and Staind. Both of them halted, though still tense and poised to strike any instant. Rogue turned and looked up at Christophe, then his eyes widened.

“No way,” he murmured. “He is a half elf!”

“Can’t be,” Staind scowled. “He’s protecting some human on a ship with those stupid Kupa sails and no half elf would ever align themselves with people from Kupa Keep. Even Mike’s stupid poser crew steers clear of that conformist continent.”

“Wait, there’s more half elves?” Gregory asked.

“Yeah, don’t you know that?” Rogue asked, looking at Christophe who was looking back with utter confusion. “No way… Staind, I don’t think he knows. Where are you from?”

“Why ze fuck should I tell you?” Christophe bristled but Gregory answered for him: “He’s from Larnion.”

“No way!” Rogue turned to Staind. “He doesn’t even know there’s another way. We could bring him onto our crew. He’d be good. Like, look at those muscles.” Staind frowned, but squinted at Christophe. After a while of consideration, he groaned and rolled his eyes but lowered his dagger.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Bring him up to Storm and have her lock him up. We’ll decide what to do with him later.” Staind gestured to the ground where Gregory still was. “Kill the conformist though.”

“You take me, you take ‘im,” Christophe scowled. “Or I kill ze both of you.” This compromise seemed to further piss off Staind and he opened his mouth to argue, but Rogue whispered something in his ear that he found begrudgingly agreeable.

“Ok, follow me,” Rogue said. Christophe nodded, then turned and held out a hand to Gregory. He took it, his body shaking as it strained through pain and exhaustion to get him on his feet. He nearly blacked out and fell over again as soon as he was upright, but Christophe caught and steadied him, wrapping one of Gregory’s arms around his shoulders. Gregory smiled, weak but grateful, and leaned into the support. Together, they followed Rogue up to the top deck, passing many other black-clad individuals on the way. All of them were half elves.

“Thank you for saving me, by the way,” Gregory murmured as they walked. “They were quite ready to kill me back there.”

“You could ‘ave gotten away with ze others,” Christophe said. “Eet was stupid, coming back for me. You should’ve left me behind.”

“Why would I do that?” Gregory asked. Christophe stopped, just briefly, studying Gregory. Something shifted in his expression, and he went back to following Rogue.

Above deck, they were handed off to a woman (presumably Storm) who seemed just as suspicious as Staind had been. She even had the same resigned eye roll once Rogue explained what was going. She gave them a once-over.

“What’s with the shovel?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Rogue said. “He hit me with it though. It fucking hurt.”

“Larnion is using shovels as weapons now?”

“He’s a gardener,” Gregory explained. Storm glared at him when he spoke, then reached for the shovel. Christophe pulled it in protectively, refusing to let go. A stab to the leg from Rogue convinced him otherwise.

There were long planks connecting their ship and the pirates’, likely what the crew had used to board. They were led across the planks where Storm brought them below deck and chained their hands to a wall in a cell. Soon after, a tall half elf with curly hair came in. He patted them down for any more weapons, finding none. He did find a velvet box in Christophe’s pocket and the locket around Gregory’s neck.

“W-Wait!” Gregory reached out, weakly grabbing as the half elf took their things. “No, please don’t—!”

“Like I’m gonna listen to you,” the half elf scoffed. Of course– nothing Gregory had to say would sway him. All he could do was sob and crumple in on himself, devoid of any energy or will to fight like he heard Christophe trying to do for his box. The half elf, indifferent to both, left. After a while, the clanking of chains stopped, leaving only Gregory’s crying and Christophe’s exhausted panting. Deafening explosions and the great cracking and groaning of wood drowned out any other sounds about an hour later. Gregory wasn’t sure how many cannon balls had been shot, but it was certainly more than enough to sink the ship.

He thought about the others off in their lifeboats. He hoped they were safe, that they would make it back to Larnion. It was the only thing he had left to hope for.

Chapter Text

The castle staff were under strict orders to not come to Kyle’s chambers after a certain hour. One reason was because he hated to be disturbed once he’d turned in for the night, even more so when he was trying to sleep. The bigger and more secret reason, though, was so the staff wouldn’t see Stan with him. His actual bedroom was adjoining so there was some level of plausible deniability. Still, being Kyle’s right hand and personal guard wouldn’t explain why they were tangled in bed together.

Most nights, the staff was good at keeping to the rule. Kyle naturally commanded their respect but he tried his best to earn it too. He always stressed not overworking them on normal tasks so they were more willing to follow his more puzzling orders. Luckily, for the nights that they slipped up, Stan was a light sleeper.

A sharp, quick series of knocks sounded at Kyle’s door in the middle of the night. Stan’s hands’ instinctively flew to his sword at the bedside, but when he realized there wasn’t any immediate danger, he relaxed and jostled Kyle lightly.

“Wake up,” he whispered. Kyle groaned and pushed his hands off. The knock came again, this time succeeding in rousing him. He sat upright, frowning, and exchanged a confused glance with Stan. Stan shrugged, but slowly got off the bed and crept to a corner where he’d be out of eyesight of anyone standing in the doorway. Kyle too stood, grabbing and donning a robe.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

“A messenger, your highness,” a voice on the other side answered. “With an urgent raven from the diplomatic party.” Kyle’s frown and confusion only deepened. The diplomats had only been gone about a month. How had they made it all the way to the Moorish and sent a raven back here already? He opened the door, taking the envelope from the young elf standing there. It was sealed with Larnion’s royal seal, so it was clearly real. An “URGENT” in Don’s swooping scrawl was written across the back.

“Thank you,” Kyle said, turning the letter over in his hands, wondering just what could be so pressing. The elf nodded and started mumbling something, but Kyle waved his apology off and shut the door. Stan stepped out from the corner, moving to the desk to light a candle. He brought it and a letter opener over, handing the latter to Kyle.

“Maybe the raven just got here super late from Northern Larnion,” Stan said as Kyle tore the envelope’s seal. “Like, they could’ve cheaped out and gotten a shitty raven.”

“No, Don wouldn’t do that,” Kyle murmured as he took the letter out. Stan watched him as he read it over, then felt a cold sickness seize his guts as Kyle’s face paled and his grip on the edges of the paper started shaking. The strangled sob trickled out of Kyle slowly, but then gushed forth in a scream as he fell to his knees. Stan panicked and set aside the candle before going down too. Kyle collapsed into his arms, weeping.

“He’s dead!” Kyle managed between his cries. “Oh gods, Stan, Chr-Christophe is dead!”

“What?!” Stan took the now rather crumpled letter from Kyle, reading it as best he could by dim candlelight and while still cradling Kyle. 

He didn’t know Don all that well, but one thing he could say for sure about the man was that he took his job seriously. Don wasn’t the type at all to make up stories about pirates attacking the ship while out at sea, sending most everyone back towards Northern Larnion’s shores. He wouldn’t lie about “most everyone” not including Gregory or, more importantly, Christophe, or about watching from lifeboats as the ship was set ablaze and sunk, all left aboard presumed dead.

“Holy shit…” Stan pulled Kyle off of him, promising with a kiss to be back in just a moment. Kyle just curled up on the ground as Stan ran to the door. The young elf who had delivered the message was still awkwardly standing there. They were presumably shocked to see Stan at the door (and nearly nude to boot) but Stan didn’t have the time to worry.

“Go get the princess,” he ordered the elf. “Tell her to come here, and hurry.” The elf jumped a little, startled, but stammered out a “Y-Yessir” and ran off. Stan went right back to Kyle who took the offer of his arms immediately. On some level, he felt as if he ought to cry too. Ike had teased him just the other day for crying over one of the castle koi dying. Despite their personal conflicts, Stan had thought Christophe was a good man. Another time, once he fully processed his death, he’d cry. Maybe he’d cry for Gregory too. 

For now, Stan could only think about Kyle. He rubbed his back and murmured what he hoped was comforting as Kyle choked out sobs.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I never should’ve—”

“No way,” Stan shook his head. “There’s no way you could’ve known, dude.”

“But there has to be a reason we don’t sail anymore! I-I can’t– I can’t remember why, gods, that should’ve been a fucking red flag—!” Kyle’s words got more incoherent as his voice was too thick with tears, burying his face in Stan’s chest and unable to even make noise anymore. His body just shook, his breath ragged. Stan picked him up off the stone floor and brought him to their bed. He held Kyle, steadfast, hoping it was enough to keep the king from sinking too deep in his sorrow.

They both barely registered when the bedroom door opened and the princess stepped through.

“You know, I’d been hoping you two would invite me to your nightly sleepovers but I gotta say, sending a flustered messenger was a weird way to go about it.”

“Kenny,” Stan frowned, his tone grave. The sly grin Kenny had walked in with vanished as she realized something was off. She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge.

“What happened?” Kenny reached out to touch Kyle’s ankle, bringing him out of his depressive state for just a moment. He didn’t do much besides shift and collapse onto her like he’d done with Stan. She wrapped her arms around him, confused but whispering comforts to him anyhow. Stan stood and crossed over to the desk, retrieving the letter and bringing it back to Kenny. Her lips moved just barely as she quietly read it to herself. Tears pricked her eyes as she got to the end, but she took a deep breath, swallowing down her sobs. She did cling tighter to Kyle, though, bunching his robe in her fists.

“I’m so sorry,” Kenny said, barely able to speak more than a whisper. “Gods, Kyle, I… I can’t even– I am so, so sorry.”

“Me too,” Kyle managed in response. “About Gregory. I-I know you weren’t as close but…”

“Yeah,” Kenny murmured. “It could be hard to tell sometimes but I… I think he was kind. At least, um, he had… he had good intentions.”

She took a shaky breath to collect herself. Looking up, she made eye contact with Stan, who sat frowning next to the two of them. His face was set, holding his emotions back for Kyle’s sake just like her. It wasn’t as if either of them believed Kyle to be some delicate thing that needed protecting, but Stan had watched him bite his tongue for the good of his kingdom for years. Kenny understood, having done more than her fair share of it too. Soon Kyle would have to push down any of his personal mourning and put on a brave face. This moment might be all he got for grieving so it should belong to him, and him alone.

Before the sun even rose, the inner circle had gathered in their sanctum, sooner than any of them had thought they would. Ravens had been sent out to Bradley, Mark, and Charlotte, who would likely spread word to the nobles under their care as well. Don was absent, but Kenny sat in his place, doing her best to catch up. Kyle had explained bits and pieces of what was going on to her, but now Leslie was recapping everything to her at a lightning quick speed in such a flat tone of voice. The princess blinked, trying to keep her eyes open. She wished the bard across the table was the one telling this tale instead.

When she glanced over at him, he seemed distant. He shot her a quick smile when he realized she was looking, but went back to staring into space. In his hands was the letter, though he’d already finished reading it a bit ago.

“You will have to forgive him,” Leslie said, seeming to read Kenny’s mind. “Jimmy had a special relationship with the gardener.”

“Oh shit, really?” Kenny blinked in surprise. “Like… special special? Were you two a thing?”

“Nothing so sc-scaa… scaaa… scandalous,” Jimmy laughed quietly, breaking out of his stupor. “I don’t think he ever even th-thought of me, but I owed a lot to him. He saved two men who were basically my dads.”

“He saved your dads?” Kenny leaned across the table, much more interested in this than whatever Leslie had to keep talking about. Jimmy nodded, but shrugged like it didn’t really mean anything. 

“When I was younger, I was part of a traveling cir-circus. It was where I learned how to be a bard. The men who ran it supported and t-taa-taught me, so I always thought of them as father figures. At one point, they got themselves in some hot water with the qu-queen.”

“That was a weird time,” Kyle sighed. “Gods, I still can’t believe my mom tried to have Terrance and Philip executed for some jokes. I feel like I can never apologize to you enough for that.”

“It’s all good, Kyle,” Jimmy smiled. “We were all just k-kids back then. And yet, you fought for them to be p-p-pardoned. And Christophe broke them out right before they could actually be executed.”

“And then he showed up in my backyard years later, angrily digging up weeds instead of whatever he was probably supposed to be doing,” Kyle smiled, but Kenny saw the immense sadness in his eyes, the way he looked away and blinked slow to keep tears from spilling out again. After a slow shaky breath, Kyle shook his head and looked more serious.

“Now isn’t the time for stories and reminiscing though. Save those for his… his funeral.” He took another pause as that reality sobered the room in the grimmest way. “We have to talk about what our next steps are regarding the prophecy and Kupa Keep.”

“Kyle’s right,” Stan nodded. “Without those allies we were planning on the diplomats getting us, overthrowing Cartman is going to be tough.”

“Do you have any insight, princess?” Leslie cocked her head at Kenny. “You are the one meant to ‘overthrow him’ and ‘see him undone.’”

“I…” Kenny hesitated, unsure. While she wanted Cartman off the throne, it was less about overthrowing him and more about restoring Sony. As callous as it sounded, she didn’t really care what happened to Kupa Keep once she had her own citizens and country back. Cartman could keep it, or maybe Gregory could’ve had it if he hadn’t died. He’d always seemed patriotic.

“If I know Cartman, right now, he’s probably still got something up his sleeve.” Kenny sighed, deciding it best to keep quiet about her thoughts. “He’s very good at pivoting when his schemes don’t pan out. I don’t know how long this back up plan will take to happen, or what it is, but he’s definitely already thought it through.”

“No surprise there,” Kyle frowned. “Do you have any allies you could ask to keep tabs on him?”

“I could try Butters,” Kenny hummed thoughtfully. Stan snorted disbelievingly at this suggestion and Kenny glared at him. “Paladin Butters is a good man!”

“Uh, sure, maybe,” Stan admitted, “but he also seems pretty… soft?  And easily manipulated?”

“Pliable. Befitting of his name.” The slightest hint of a smile formed on Leslie’s face, basically laughing at her own joke.

“Fuck you guys! He may be soft spoken and nervous, but he’s kind and genuine and hell of a lot more capable than you give him credit for. He’s a paladin, for gods’ sakes, that’s not an easy feat!” A gentle hand on her shoulder brought Kenny out of her brief rage. She softened, slumping back in her seat, still annoyed but she’d said her piece. Kyle patted her reassuringly before retracting her hand.

“I trust you Kenny,” he said. “So if you trust Butters, then I say he’s worth a shot. Why don’t you go write a letter to him and see if he’d be willing to help? And one to Cartman about Gregory while you’re at it. I doubt any response he’ll have will be important, but it might help if he thinks you’re still sympathetic to Kupa Keep.”

“What about the rest of us?” Stan asked.

“Right now, keeping Nyght from finding and destroying the Spring of Truth has to remain our top priority,” Kyle admitted with a grimace. “They’re getting more aggressive towards us every day; we can’t afford to divert our attention to nothing. Until we have a better idea of what Cartman is planning, we just have to stay alert and prepared for anything.”

The horse’s hooves hit the road, so hard and fast it was almost more of a constant drone than individual sounds, especially after hours of riding. Butters was fearfully certain that the Grand Wizard had enchanted them in some way to make them go like this. Questions kept rising to the back of throat, but he quickly swallowed them when he saw the way the Grand Wizard gritted his teeth and muttered angrily to himself. 

He’d been like that ever since receiving the raven from the diplomats about their ship being overtaken by pirates. Butters was fuzzy on the exact details, since the Grand Wizard had screamed and crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in his pocket the moment he finished reading it, but after his tantrum he’d forced Butters down to the stables.

“Gregory’s fucking dead,” he told Butters, “so I have to do this shit by myself, as always. Get a carriage ready.”

“Wh-Where are we going?” It was the one question Butters had managed to get out. The Grand Wizard grabbed him roughly and stuck his staff in his face, crackling dangerously with power.

“Just turn the carriage whenever I tell you to, got it?” The furious tone and expression on the Grand Wizard’s face scared Butters more than the threat of the staff, so he nodded and together they raced off into the night.

For two days they rode, only stopping when one of the horse’s ankles gave out and the Grand Wizard had Butters heal it so they could continue. Butters had no clue where they were or how far they were from wherever they were going. The roads they took were all overgrown with weeds and roots, old paths far from any towns that no one had any business travelling down. 

It wasn’t until sundown of the third day that Butters saw another person. They’d been charging along as usual, Butters’ attention dulled by lack of sleep. Perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the arrow until it was nearly too late. With a startled cry he quickly pulled the carriage reins, causing the horses to swerve and the arrow to miss him by a hair.

“W-We’re under attack!” Butters drew his hammer, eyes darting around frantically. The Grand Wizard poked his head out, glowering at the arrow stuck squarely in the carriage.

“Fucking great,” he muttered, rummaging around his robe. “Butters, put that shit away.” From his pocket, the Grand Wizard pulled out a white handkerchief and waved it around. Another arrow whizzed toward them, piercing through the handkerchief.

“Goddamn it! That was my favorite one!” The Grand Wizard growled and stepped out of the carriage, staff in hand. With a single shout, he slammed it on the ground and body fell from a nearby tree at the same time. Butters gasped.

“Bebe?!” 

Somehow, this wasn’t nearly as shocking to the Grand Wizard. He approached Bebe with no hesitation, levitating her prone body back up with a slight raise of his staff.

“Don’t you know what a fucking white flag means?” he glowered. “Maybe not, since you were stupid enough to run off and pledge allegiance to Clyde.”

“I know what it means, fatass,” Bebe scowled. “Like hell I’d believe it coming from you though!”

“I wouldn’t use it if I didn’t mean it, bitch! I could just kill you if I wanted to, I’m so seriously!” Whatever magic was keeping Bebe held in place glowed, making her cry in agony as the Grand Wizard showed her just how much he meant it. The glow faded and Bebe dropped to the ground as it did. She coughed harshly, trembling as she struggled on her hands and knees.

“You’re welcome,” the Grand Wizard said, though the glare Bebe gave in return didn’t express any gratitude. “If you’re ready to listen, I didn’t come here to kill you, even though, as you now know, I totally could. I want to talk to… ugh. Clyde.”

“Nothing you have to say to him could make him change his mind.”

“Oh really? What if I told you the elves just killed Gregory?” 

Bebe tensed at the mention of his name, her eyes wide. “Y… You’re lying!”

“Read for yourself.” The Grand Wizard produced the crumpled letter from his pocket. Bebe snatched it from him. With dawning horror, she realized he was right. She stood shakily, folding up the letter and tucking it in her vest.

“... come with me.” Bebe started walking back into the woods and the Grand Wizard smiled smugly before following. Butters still sat in the driver’s seat of the carriage, mind reeling. They’d been at war with Nyght for months, lost so many lives to this rebel army. Now they were here, waving white flags in their territory, about to talk with their leader. And apparently the elves had murdered Gregory? This wasn’t right. Butters wanted to turn the carriage around and head straight back to Kupa Keep but before he could make up his mind to, the Grand Wizard yelled for him.

“Aw hamburgers,” he murmured, scampering off to follow along too.

Chapter Text

There were no windows in the cell the pirates had thrown Christophe into, but he wagered it was almost morning; the ocean was usually less rough then. He was almost too exhausted to feel sick though. Fighting the chain that kept him no more than three feet from the wall had taken a lot out of him. The stab wound in his leg burned too— infected, no doubt. Gregory’s injuries were probably the same or maybe even worse.

Christophe glanced over at him again. Gregory was still slumped against the wall, the occasional rattling breath letting Christophe know he wasn’t dead yet. The grim lantern light outside their cell added to his haggard expression. It upset Christophe greatly.

He blamed that stirring feeling on the blood loss and infection taking hold, muddying his thoughts. This was Gregory, that stupid wizard’s dog, who Kyle warned Christophe to be wary of. He was a pompous know-it-all noble who treated Christophe like a child, fixing his clothes and acting like he knew what was good for him. There was every reason to resent the man and take some joy in his suffering.

As much as Christophe tried to re-correct himself and return to his truth, some stubborn and idiotic part of him made him hesitate. It made him remember Gregory bringing him tea that settled his upset stomach. Gregory, frantic and out of breath, pulling him off the floor of the ship so he wouldn’t be left behind. Gregory, defending him as if on instinct when that pirate charged at him, and Christophe doing the same in return without even thinking about it.

“Gregory?” Christophe’s throat hurt, sore from all his shouting when he tried to break out of his restraints earlier. Still, the silence was worse. Gregory groaned in lieu of a real response and shifted just slightly, his face now tilted towards Christophe. “Zis blows.” 

Gregory let out a snort of air, then a weak chuckle, the first hint of real life left in him. “Not one for sugarcoating, are you?”

“What ze fuck ees zere to sugarcoat?”

“I don’t know,” Gregory sighed. “I’m sure we can… find some silver lining.” His words were faint, barely louder than the heavy breathes he took between pauses, but Christophe was already back to rolling his eyes at him.

“Bullshit. Name one good zing.”

“Well, there’s other… other half elves. They want to… welcome you into their community.”

“Zey’re going about eet ‘orribly. So far zey ‘ave stabbed me, taken my shit, and chained me to a wall. Zat’s not what I would call welcoming.”

“It is a… lousy first impression,” Gregory admitted, another bout of weak, strained laughter shaking through him. He winced. “I am sorry they took your… your box.”

“Ah…” Christophe frowned. The box wasn’t his, but of course Gregory wouldn’t know that. It was almost sweet how he thought Christophe was just upset about some box too, since he didn’t know how precious the thing inside was. Christophe gritted his teeth, guilt replacing the anger coursing through his body. If he lived to make it back to Larnion, he didn’t know how he could face the princess and admit he’d gotten her precious heirloom stolen.

“Merci,” he thanked Gregory. “I’m sorry zey took your, uh, necklace. But you’re a noble, pas vrai? I’m sure you ‘ave others.” Christophe flinched, taken aback by the harshness of the glare Gregory shot at him. He had assumed the necklace was just some pretty trinket, considering how quickly Gregory had stopped fighting for it.

“I have no idea how you’ve come to see me as such a shallow asshole,” Gregory huffed, “but you don’t know me, Christophe.” His voice lost its edge as he sadly mumbled “You don’t know me.”

“… Non. I don’t.” That much, Christophe had begun to accept, might be true. Kyle had asked him to keep an eye on Gregory because he thought Christophe could see past whatever facade Gregory put up. Christophe thought he could too, but maybe he let Kyle’s suspicions and his own biases color his vision too much. His mother had always scolded him over his stubborn opinions, which made him wear them with pride.

Maybe she hadn’t been wrong all the time.  

Christophe leaned back against the wall and sighed. “Was eet a… relic from Yardale?”

Gregory glanced over at him. “No. A gift. From someone… very dear to me.” 

Of course— a favor from a sweetheart or something. That explained it. Despite Gregory’s fancy outfits, he didn’t seem the type to also wear jewelry. Besides, a handsome, self-important noble and former soldier like Gregory was bound to have some pretty royal girl to take around to balls or provide heirs for his precious bloodline.

Christophe grinned, imagining what sort of prissy girl Gregory would fall for. “I bet she’s blonde like you.”

“He was.” Gregory smiled, perhaps at the memory or perhaps at the way Christophe was stunned into silence, his eyes wide. After Gregory talking up his Yardale lineage and legacy so much, it had only made sense to Christophe that he’d be the type to insist on bloodheirs. For him to take a male sweetheart…

There was a lot Christophe needed to start reassessing.

“I used to be a mercenary,” he blurted out. This got Gregory’s attention. He scooted a little closer to Christophe.

“You— really? The Grand Wizard had said he heard rumors but I presumed that was him spouting judgemental nonsense like he usually does.”

Christophe raised his brows thoughtfully. So Gregory thought the Grand Wizard was an idiot too? Perhaps they could be on the same page. Before he had a chance to respond, footsteps sounded from the stairs and the woman from last night, Storm, appeared. A ring of keys clinked on her belt and she used one to open the cell and another to unlock the chain specifically holding Christophe to the wall.

“Get up,” she commanded. “Captain wants to see you.”

Christophe gloured at her, but complied. They’d already demonstrated before that they were fine hurting him if he didn’t, not to mention they already wanted Gregory dead. He held Gregory’s gaze as Storm led him up the stairs, hoping that he understood:

Christophe would get them both off this damn ship, no matter what.

Though he had tried his best to keep himself off people’s radars, Christophe wasn’t too unfamiliar with what an interrogation looked like from his mercenary days. None had ever taken place in a wooden room like this, but the setup was the same. The captain (Staind? Isn’t that what the rouge guy had called him?) stood across from him, arms crossed. He couldn’t be older than his mid to late twenties, certainly younger than Christophe, but his black clothes and dark makeup did give him an intimidating aura. The rocking of the ship didn’t do Christophe’s resolve any favors either.

Staind raised his chin to give himself even further height. “Who are you?”

“A gardener,” Christophe answered. Gregory had unfortunately already given that much away when they were captured.

“From Kupa Keep?”

“Fuck no. From Larnion.”

“Why were you in a ship flying Kupa Keep’s colors and travelling with a human, then?” Staind scowled in frustration when all Christophe did was glare back silently. He leaned across the table between them. “Wanna know what I think?”

“Non.”

Staind shoved the table violently into Christophe’s gut, timed perfectly with a lurch of the ship that made Christophe cough out acidic bile, burning his throat. “I think,” Staind hissed, “you and that human are hired scum working for the conformist tyrant wizard.”

“I would never work for zat fucking fatass.” Christophe could barely open his mouth, let alone speak, without feeling like he’d be sick again, but like hell he’d let alone believe he worked for Cartman.

Staind went on, unconvinced. “He hired you to kill Princess Kenny so he could finally rule unopposed, didn’t he? I bet that human with you was your inside man. Then the wizard gave you a ship and crew to sail around while all the suspicion died down.”

“What?” Christophe shook his head. “Zat’s ze stupidest conclusion you could ‘ave come to.”

“Really? Then how else could you have this?” Staind reached in his pocket and slammed a small object on the table— the box containing Princess Kenny’s pendant. Christophe’s brows furrowed, utterly confused

“Zat was a— wait, ‘ow do you know what zat ees?”

“Nevermind how I know! All that matters is that it’s irrefutable evidence that you’re working for those Kupa Keep conformists and you killed Princess Kenny and stole this from—”

“She GAVE zat to me, you idiotic—!”

“LIAR!”

Both Christophe and Staind’s attention was suddenly directed to the door that Christophe had been led in through. Someone, presumably whoever had just shouted the accusation, sounded like they were fighting to get in. After a muffled argument, the door swung open, revealing a young woman.

“You’re a liar!” she shouted again. “She would never EVER just give it away!”

“Hey, I told you I could handle this!” Staind stormed out from behind the table to try and direct the young woman back out the door, but she squirmed and fought him.

“No, Firkle! I’m not going to stand out there and listen to him drag her character through the mud!” She broke free of his grasp and ran to Christophe, grabbing the front of his shirt roughly. “What did you do to my sister?!”

Sister?

Christophe glanced at the woman’s ears. Unlike all the other pirates, hers were rounded. She was human.

Princess Kenny once had two siblings.

“Holy shit,” Christophe gaped. “Karen?”

“Great, he fucking knows who you are now,” Staind muttered.

“I don’t care,” Karen scowled. “I’m gonna kill this guy for stealing from my sister anyways.” The ship’s rocking and the burn of his likely-infected wound were really starting to take their toll on Christophe. Perhaps it was arrogant to assume without the malaise he’d never crack, but the death grip Karen had on his shirt and intense hatred in her glare made him shake.

“I-I didn’t steal eet!” Christophe babbled. “Ze princess did give eet to me because I’m ‘elping her reestablish your fucking kingdom!”

The confession stunned Karen and Staind into silence, but Christophe wasn’t sure how long until they turned on him again. He started rambling. “Look, ze princess wants to bring ze Sony kingdom back but she needs allies so Kyle sent me as part of a group looking for zose zat could ‘elp. She gave me zat so people would know I was a friend of Sony which I zought was stupid because Sony ees dead but—”

“Wait.” Karen held up her hand to stop him. “Who’s Kyle?”

“Ze king of Larnion. ‘e and ze princess are engaged.”

“Kenny’s engaged?!” This news seemed to completely reverse Karen’s mood, an excited glint lighting her eyes. “Is Kyle a nice king? Does Kenny really love him? Are they getting married soon or—”

“How do we know this isn’t a lie?” Staind interrupted.

“Because this sounds like something Kenny would do.” Karen took a small dagger out of her boot and knelt behind the chair Christophe sat in. Despite Staind’s protests, she cut the ropes holding Christophe before sitting on the table in front of him.

“Now—” Karen leaned forward, smiling warmly. “Tell me everything.”

Karen had been quite young when Sony fell to the hands of Kupa Keep, just barely old enough to recall her parents’ faces, so she knew very little of what had become of her kingdom or the rest of her birth continent. She listened with rapt attention as Christophe described, as best he could, how things had progressed; he settled mostly on calling things “shitty”.

“Gregory could probably tell you more,” he admitted.

“Is that the human with you?” Karen asked. Christophe nodded. “Did Kyle also send him?”

“Not… not exactly,” Christophe frowned. He regretted now how he zoned out during Don’s lectures on the Nyght situation, the politics nothing but a boring frustration. At least with Gregory’s earlier derisive comment about the wizard, Christophe could confidently tell Karen that Gregory believed he was just on a mission to find allies to fight Nyght, who was definitely the enemy of everyone involved.

“Gregory was ze princess’ friend, zough,” he assured her, though he didn’t fully believe it himself. The only evidence he had was that she enjoyed the letters he’d sent her because he let a friend of hers include a hello. “She trusted him. Not enough to tell ‘im about ‘er plans, but… she zought ‘e was nice.”

Karen nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. Then we’ll trust him too.” She added “To an extent!” after Staind sputtered protests by the door. “You don’t have to be friends with him, Firkle. Just don’t kill him.”

Staind (if that really was his name— Karen kept calling him something else) rolled his eyes and grumbled something under his breath. Karen smiled brightly and Christophe stared at her, a little in awe. While she was a princess by birth, that couldn’t mean anything when her kingdom was gone. It probably meant even less to these pirates operating completely outside of the monarchy. And yet, somehow, she could sway the captain with just a few words and a smile, none of which seemed dishonest. Christophe couldn’t help but compare her to her sister who had somehow convinced the wizard she was worth keeping around, and who had endeared herself to Kyle in just a few short weeks. If this is what its rulers were like, maybe it was a good idea to reinstate the kingdom of Sony.

And maybe Kyle wasn’t the only kind-hearted exception among nobles.

There weren’t any proper rooms left aboard the ship, but Karen had a storage space cleared out somewhat. The quarters would be tight, but Christophe didn’t care when she gifted him with a thin mattress on some boxes instead of a hammock; their swinging had always exacerbated his sickness. Gregory would still have one but as far as Christophe knew, it didn’t bother him.

Karen also turned out to know a bit of healing magic, a skill she said came in quite handy when living with pirates.

“You should’ve seen Firkle after he fought for the title of captain,” she sighed. “I told him not to overexert himself, but he was so stubborn.”

“So, ze captain ees… Firkle?” Christophe asked. “Not, uh, Staind?” Karen snorted a giggle at the name.

“Oh, they’re all so silly with that,” she said affectionately. “Firkle is his real name, but he thinks it doesn’t sound dark and intimidating enough so he chose a pirate name to be known by. A bunch of the others have them too. Mine’s Crow, but I hardly ever use it.” She informed him that two of the pirates he’d met also used these pirate names: Rogue, who was really Pete, and Storm, whose real name was Henrietta.

Once she fixed up Christophe’s wound, Karen rubbed her eyes and blinked, stifling a yawn. After taking a moment to stretch, she told Christophe she’d go heal and release Gregory, then be back to give them both a tour of the ship. He was beginning to understand what made Karen so beloved by the pirates, despite everything; her compassion and loyalty were unparalleled. He’d known it when she was ready to murder in the honor of a sister she hadn’t seen in decades, but he was only comprehending it now. 

Christophe put a hand on Karen’s arm, stopping her before she left, knowing she would understand his request even better than him.

“Zere was something zey took from Gregory, when they locked us up,” he said. “A necklace or something. Eet’s… what your sister’s pendant means to ‘er, zat’s what ze necklace ees to Gregory. Can you get zem to give eet back to ‘im?”

“Of course,” Karen nodded sympathetically. “I know exactly where it is, I’ll go get it before I go down.”

“Merci,” Christophe smiled. “And don’t worry about ze tour right after. We ‘ave time tomorrow, pas vrai? I zink Gregory and I will need time to rest.” Karen smiled back, looking relieved— the healing clearly exhausted her and Christophe was more than fine with letting her take a rest. She gave a little wave as she left him alone in the room.

Christophe lay on the makeshift bed, chewing on a sort of candy Karen had left him with. It had a sharp, spicy taste that was offset just slightly by the dried sweetness coating it; supposedly, it would help ease the sick he was feeling. The nausea didn’t entirely disappear, but it did lessen to a less debilitating point. 

He was grateful to himself for having told Karen that he didn’t want that tour. Now that his body was less tense with nausea, exhaustion took its place. Christophe wasn’t sure if he actually fell asleep or simply zoned out, but muffled voices and the rattling of the door some time later made him sit up, alert.

“Sorry it’s cramped,” Karen apologized as she opened the door. Gregory stood behind her, dirty and weary, but otherwise looking much better than when Christophe had last seen him. He was even smiling a bit, placing a gentle hand on Karen’s arm.

“It’s wonderful,” he said. “Thank you so much for everything, princess.”

“I told you, you can just call me Karen,” she giggled. “And thank you for telling me about Kenny. It’s been a relief to hear she’s doing so well.”

“Of course,” Gregory said. “And I’ve got plenty more stories, trust me.”

Karen beamed. “I can’t wait to hear them later then!” After promising to check in on them around dinner, she left the two of them alone in the little room. After a few moments of silence, soft laughter emanated from Gregory that built to a joyful relieved cacophony.

“The other Sony princess is alive!” He turned to Christophe, bewildered but grinning. “And she’s been living with pirates all this time and she’s— oh great Dai, Christophe, this is…” Gregory gestured wildly, at a loss for words, eventually settling on just shaking his head. He reached into his pocket and took out a silvery object— the locket, Christophe realized, its chain broken, rendering it unwearable. Still, the gentleness of Gregory’s thumb as he caressed it was nothing short of reverent. 

“The princess— Karen— she said you asked her to get this back to me,” Gregory said, his voice suddenly soft. He glanced from the locket to Christophe. “Is that true?” Christophe nodded. Before he could blink, Gregory was sitting on the bed beside him, arms flung around his neck. His breath was hot on Christophe’s skin as he sobbed. “Thank you.”

A shiver went through Christophe’s body, which was odd since he felt a blush burning his cheeks as well. He raised his both arms, uncertain, then settled on just putting one around Gregory and offered an awkward pat.

“You’re, ah, You’re welcome,” he said. “Eet’s— I could tell zat eet was special, so eet’s nothing really—”

“It’s not nothing,” Gregory interrupted. He backed out of the embrace but his arms remained around Christophe, now hanging loosely by his shoulders. “You’re incredible, you know that? Staying so brave and compassionate in the face of such danger… it’s really something, Christophe. And this—” Gregory pulled his arms back in front of him to stare at the locket in his grip. “It’s everything, to me.” 

He brought his gaze up to meet Christophe’s. His eyes were a stormy blue-grey, shiny from tears, but gentler and kinder and more stunning than any Christophe could swear he’d ever seen before. The urge to do something struck Christophe so profoundly yet so confusingly that all he could do was stare back at Gregory. He watched Gregory stand and tuck the locket back into his pocket, stretch, and declare they should probably both get rest, considering all that had happened. Still in a somewhat trance, Christophe lay back down on the bed, head turned to see Gregory crawl into his hammock and pass out after just a few minutes.

He turned his attention to the ceiling.

He suspected Gregory was growing on him.