The Truth About Love (Stan x Kyle)

Dark Past

I dragged Stan around the rest of the castle on a whirlwind tour; the ball room, dining room, meeting rooms. I couldn't really be bothered to show him the rest. He could work it out in his own time. Instead we returned back to the library where we sat by the large bay window. The golden guardian of nature calling it a night and slowly setting in the distance.

"You really like it in here huh dude?" Stan questioned, sounding almost peaceful.

"Yeah, I guess, it's my favourite room. There's so many awesome stories! Not to mention books all about our world and the people living in it. You can learn everything! It's awesome." I said grinning.

"Dude, you're such a nerd." He teased though he said it smiling so I knew he was joking. Nevertheless, I punched his shoulder lightly. "What's your favourite book?" He asked curiously.

"Oh, uh, I've never picked a favourite." I said thoughtfully. "I guess, Alice in wonderland."

"That was written by a human though, right?" Said Stan sounding confused.

"Yeah, by Barry J Simpson. Is that a problem?"

"No, just... surprising." I smiled at him.

"Elves aren't really known for being emotional, so I guess a lot of my favourite authors are humans." I said sheepishly.

"I dunno, you seem pretty passionate dude."

"Yeah, my relatives are all really disappointed in me because of that. A lot of them think I shouldn't be the next King." I said glumly looking down at the floor.

"What, dude! Like your parents?!" He said, sounding aghast.

"Nah, but I know my Dad thinks it, just like mainly my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. Everyone." I sighed, "I need to learn to be more emotionless, and elf like, or I'm never going to be able to run this kingdom effectively." Being the heir to the throne sucks some times. Especially when none of the elves take me seriously. Middle earth problems though, am I right?

"Dude, no way!" Said Stan surprising me. "Fuck them, you're awesome as you are. Just stay yourself." I stared at him in shock for a second. No one had ever told me that before. I guess he was right, I'm not going to get anywhere being something I'm not anyway. I grinned at him. I then realised we were late for dinner. Shit.

"Dude, it's dinner time!" I said panicking. We ran down to the dining hall at lightening speed. The dining room is a bit ridiculous. We have this big ass table, which about four metres long and is hardly ever filled; even if we have the whole family over! Mom sits at the head of the table, Dad at the other end with Ike and me sitting across from each other in the middle.

Stan wanted to stand dutifully and be my taste taster but I was having none of it. I demanded that a chair was brought in and that he sat next to me as my equal and that was that. I could feel my parents glaring at me, but I didn't really give a fuck. Usually I care quite a lot about what they think but Mom did specifically tell me he was having a rough time, and to be nice, so it's her fucking problem.

After that I wished Stan good night and we headed to our respective rooms. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I heard something through the wall connecting my room to Stan's. I pressed a cup to the wall and realised he was crying. I sat on the floor for a minute. Should I ask him if he's okay? Or should I leave him alone. Maybe he'd rather I didn't know he was crying and he'd rather cry in peace. No, no one likes being alone when they cry, I decided.

I summoned a little courage and walked out of my room and knocked gently on Stan's door. "Stan, can I come in?" I asked. There was silence for a minute. But then a stuttered,

"S-Sure." I opened and closed the door as quietly as I could; then stood in the middle of the room looking down at Stan who sat crying on his bed. Without making eye contact he patted the spot next to him on his bed and I slowly sat down, trying to make sure he had space. His eyes were red and he was furiously trying to wipe away tears. In his lap was a dog carved out of wood, he had a purple scarf wrapped round his neck and he was hugging a ragged, pink woollen jumper tightly to his chest.

I pushed down his hands gently so he could focus on cuddling the jumper, got a handkerchief out of my pocket and gently dabbed his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked once his breathing rate had calmed. He looked conflicted, as if he was having some internal argument, but eventually nodded. There was silence for a couple minutes but that was alright Stan needed to gather his thoughts and calm down; I would give him as long as he needed.

"I presume you know what's happened in the south?" He asked eventually. I nodded grimly. Anger coursed through my veins like fresh oxygen. The son of the grand Wizard king, one Eric Cartman, had recently murdered his father; then fed him in a chilly to the advisors the dead king had trusted the most, before Cartman had promptly fired them. His mother, too scared to stop him, had handed the throne over to him and he now ruled supreme over the south at the age of ten, the same age as me. Cartman hated elves with a passion, and had been executing all elves and all people with connections to elves in his domain. I shivered at the thought.