Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Remember, men!" Cartman's voice boomed across the camp.

"The Kingdom of Kupa Keep has been at war with the Elven scumbags for years. They show no mercy, and neither do we! The Stick of Truth is the most powerful artifact in the universe, and it belongs to us! We've got a lead on where it might be, so we need to make sure we retrieve it before those pointy eared assholes do. Sharpen your swords, prepare your spells, and tomorrow, we fight for glory itself!"

Tweek and Craig stood side by side in the training yard, exchanging a quick glance before diving back into their drills. Craig twirled a dagger effortlessly, while Tweek pulled back his bowstring with steady focus, their movements syncing in perfect rhythm only they seemed to share.

Tweek loosed an arrow, striking the dummy clean in the chest. Craig's dagger struck into the exact spot a heartbeat later.

Craig smirked, resting his hand against the handle. "Not bad. Still not as fast as me, though."

Tweek huffed, stringing another arrow. "Ngh- I hit the target first! You just like to look cool."

Craig leaned closer, chuckling softly. "Maybe. But between the two of us, no one's getting close enough to touch you anyway."

Tweek faltered, his ears pink as he tried to steady his next arrow. "C-Craig?! D-don't say stuff like that while I'm aiming!"

Still, the arrow landed dead center.

Craig kissed his boyfriend's forehead lightly. "Good shot, honey."

Cartman groaned loud enough to rattle the camp. "Ugh, nobody cares about your gross couple shit! This is WAR! I can't believe two of my three greatest warriors are fags." His glare shifted to Craig.

"Craig! Quit flirting with your boyfriend and go over your mission. You're infiltrating the Elven base. Scope out their defenses, find weaknesses, sniff out anything they're hiding. Got it?"

Craig gave him the finger. "It's Feldspar to you, dick." To everyone else, he was Feldspar. But to his boyfriend, he was Craig, and no one else was allowed that closeness.

Then he turned, pressing a quick kiss to Tweek's cheek, and murmured, "See you later, babe."

Tweek flushed as Craig strolled off.

"Goddamn asshole..." Cartman grumbled. He whipped back toward Tweek. "And you! I know your aiming's solid, but we can't afford mistakes. So quit thinking about Feldspar's dick in your mouth and get back to training!"

Tweek's face burned red as he fired off another arrow in silence.

"Butters!" Cartman barked.

"Yes, Grand Wizard?" Butters piped up, halfway through polishing his armor.

"Go make yourself useful and double check the supply wagons. If we're out of healing potions tomorrow, it's on your ass."

"Yes m'lord!" Butters scrambled off.

Scott raised his hand nervously from the sidelines. "Uh, I-I'm ready. My weapon's polished and... my diabetes isn't acting up today."

"Fucking great," Cartman muttered. "One hit and you'll topple over. Go get healing spells from Tolkien, we can't afford to lose you during the fight."

"Hey," Tolkien cut in sharply, closing the cover of his healer's book. "Don't dump him on me, I've got men from yesterday's battle still waiting on bandages. We need to prioritize the wounded, just give him a epi-pen."

A loud crash cut through the camp.

Clyde stumbled in, red faced, carrying a crate way too heavy for him. "Do you guys even realize how much potions weigh?! At least let me fight for once!"

Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Clyde. For the last time, your only job is to sell. You're useless at literally everything else."

Clyde glared but set the crate down with a thud, muttering under his breath.

"Jesus Christ," Cartman snapped. "Is no one ready for this fight?! Don't you lazy assholes understand this is WAR?!"

From the back, Scott mumbled, "Well... you don't say anything about Kenny just sitting on a throne all day."

The entire camp froze.

Kenny rose slowly, dress swishing as he adjusted his wig. "...You dare dishonor the princess?" His muffled voice was icy.

"N-No, your highness!" Scott squeaked.

Kenny flicked his hair with a smug little hum and sat back down.

Cartman finally lost it. "That's IT! Everyone shut the fuck up and prepare! If we lose a single man tomorrow, I'm working you all to death in training until you puke blood!"

The camp went dead silent

Then the clamor of weapons and armor doubled as everyone scrambled to get ready.

-

Cartman's shadow spilled over the table where Craig sat casually, one boot propped on a chair, idly spinning a dagger between his fingers.

"Feldspar, do you have your mission planned out?" Cartman demanded, arms crossed as he loomed over Craig.

Craig leaned back in the chair, not bothering glancing up. He let the blade tap against the wooden table with a faint clink before catching it by the handle.

"Yeah. Their base looks easy enough to slip into. Won't be a problem." His tone was flat, unconcerned.

Cartman smirked, satisfied. "Good. After tomorrow's battle, you sneak in, listen in on their meeting, and dig up anything they're hiding. Clear?"

Craig finally looked up, his blue eyes cold, unreadable. "Alright."

Cartman's eyebrow twitched, lips curling in irritation. "That's 'yes, m'lord,' asshole. Show some Goddamn respect!"

Craig slowly rose from his chair, slipping the dagger back into his belt. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted his hand and flipped Cartman off with deliberate slowness, his expression blank. "Respect that."

The tent flap swayed behind him as he left, Cartman muttering curses about "respecting his authority" under his breath as Craig walked off.

Outside, Craig smirked faintly to himself, already thinking about returning to Tweek.

-

Craig slipped into their tent, lit only by a small lantern. Tweek was curled on the bedroll, dozing lightly. Craig crouched down and pressed soft kisses across his cheeks until Tweek stirred, rubbing his eyes, then smiling once he realized who it was.

"Sorry for waking you, honey. I missed you," Craig murmured, pulling him into his arms.

Tweek giggled softly. "I-I tried waiting for you, but you took so long. How's the plan? Cartman's been cracking down on you about it nonstop."

Craig brushed his thumb over his boyfriend's cheek. "It's fine, their defenses are pathetic. I couldn't stop thinking about you anyway."

Tweek's face flushed. "Ngh!- s-stop saying things like that!" He giggled despite himself.

They laid together in the quiet, just staring at each other. Tweek yawned, and Craig pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Get some rest, baby. We'll need it tomorrow."

"Mmm. Goodnight, Craig."

Craig blew out the lantern. "Goodnight, honey."

Chapter Text

The first light of dawn stretched over the camp, carrying a metallic scent of freshly sharpened blades. Swords scraped against stones, bowstrings strummed as they were tested, and armor plates were strapped tightly into place. The camp was filled with controlled chaos, a storm of preparation for the battle to come.

Tweek crouched at the edge of the training yard, adjusting his arrows with jittery precision. His blonde hair spiked in every direction, black warpaint streaking his face and bare torso. Leather straps and fur lined cloth covered his lower half, offering protection without hindering his movement.

Craig leaned casually against a barrel nearby, coat open enough to reveal a brown tunic underneath, and a belt slung diagonally across his chest carrying knives and tools. His eyes lingered on Tweek, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he flipped a dagger lazily between his fingers.

"You're up early," Craig teased, voice soft.

Tweek shot him a playful scowl over his shoulder. "-Ngh- If you're gonna waste your time messing with your dagger, at least waste it sparring with me."

Craig chuckled, letting the dagger spin before catching it in one fluid motion. "Waste time? Never...just can't resist when my favorite barbarian's watching."

Tweek's face flushed pink, though he kept his gaze on the target. "Hmph... then just focus on your own drills, thief."

Craig stepped closer, grin widening. "Can't help it when my boyfriend insists on showing off. Thought I'd show you a little appreciation in return."

Tweek raised his arrow like he might loose it at him, though the giggle that slipped past his lips betrayed him.

The tension between them was electric . Everyone in camp knew they were Kupa Keep's golden couple, and today would prove it once more. They always moved as one in battle, pace perfectly synced, a lethal combination sharpened across countless battles. And without question, the most unstoppable pair.

Together with Tolkien, the healer whose magic could mend allies or cripple foes, they were the Kupa Keep Kingdom's greatest three warriors.

"Listen up, men!" Cartman's voice thundered over the camp, snapping both Tweek and Craig to attention.

"Today's not just any battle with the elves, The Stick of Truth is rumored to be in that forest. The stakes are high! If we don't grab it before those douchebag elves, we're screwed. Whoever wields the stick controls the universe, and that Jew King doesn't deserve it!"

He paced the camp, eyes sharp as he scanned every fighter, ensuring their attention.

"So grab your weapons, recite your spells, and remember, Kupa Keep fights for power!"

A roar of cheers shook the camp, voices clashing with the clang of steel.

Tolkien adjusted the satchel at his side, double checking vials of potions and herbs. "And don't get sloppy. If anyone gets injured, come to me first. No heroics without healing."

Scott fidgeted with his weapon, glancing nervously at his sugar levels. "Uh... yeah, I'm ready, and my sugar's in check... mostly."

Clyde stumbled, struggling under the weight of a crate of potions. "Why does everything have to weigh a ton? Can I please just fight in the battle for once?"

Cartman rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. "Clyde, don't even think about swinging a sword. Your dumbass would slice your own fingers off before you hit an enemy."

The two bickered back and forth until Clyde's eyes welled up with tears, the usual scene. He'd always been a crybaby.

Tweek and Craig exchanged a glance. Despite the chaos around them, they were steady, already predicting each other's moves and strategies for the battlefield ahead.

Cartman slammed a fist onto a table to get everyone's attention. "Alright, men! We move out now! Grab your gear, check your ammo, and stay in formation. Don't screw this up!"

The camp erupted again, warriors rushing to armor, sharpening their last blades, and loading supplies.

Tweek loosed one final arrow into the target, Craig driving his dagger into the bullseye beside it. Together, they turned toward the forest's direction, standing at the edge of camp ready for the chaos of war.

-

The army of Kupa Keep formed at the edge of the trees. Across the land, the Elven Kingdom stood assembled, a wall of green and brown armor, formation tight with discipline. Sunlight flashed on their drawn blades and the steel tips of their arrows.

Kyle stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding. "Kupa Keep! Step onto the field if you dare try to claim what isn't yours!"

Cartman squared his shoulders, raising his staff high. "The Stick of Truth belongs to us, elf boy! Today you learn that Kupa Keep doesn't lose!"

"It's High Elf King, fatass!" Kyle shot back, raising his weapon. "Elves, together we fight for justice!"

The elves pushed the attack first.

From the side, Craig murmured to Tweek, "Ready?"

Tweek nodded, knuckles tight around his bow. "Let's do this."

The first wave of combat struck as the two armies clashed. Tweek and Craig moved in sync, arrows and daggers cutting in perfect rhythm. Tweek's bow snapped with precision, arrows piercing through shields and armor gaps, while Craig slipped through the shadows, flanking enemies and striking with lethal accuracy.

"Watch your left!" Tweek shouted, loosing an arrow at a charging elf.

Craig twisted aside, dagger spinning through the air. The arrow struck first, pinning into the elf's shoulder, before Craig's blade caught him in the back. The two lovebirds exchanged a brief smirk, victory without words, before turning to the next threat.

"Hey, Kupa Keep scum!" an elf snarled, swinging a sword toward Tweek.

Tweek ducked low, releasing an arrow into the elf's chest.

But then- a sharp sting at his side. He stumbled, eyes widening as he looked down. A small, well aimed arrow had pierced his chest. Tweek gritted his teeth, staggering back.

"Tweek!" Craig's voice cut with worry. His hands caught him before he fell, fury blazing in his eyes.

With one brutal strike, Craig's dagger slashed the archer's bowstring. The elf stumbled back, only to feel cold steel pressed to his throat. "You fucking touch him again, and I'll carve this into your lungs."

Tweek blinked, heart racing from both the pain and Craig's intensity. "I-I'm fine!" he gasped, straightening as Craig's hand lingered for a moment protectively.

Tolkien rushed in, pressing a glowing hand to the wound. The arrow slipped free, the flesh closing itself before Tweek staggered back to his feet.

The battle went on.

"Hold the line!" Cartman yelled, staff glowing. "Don't let them take ground!"

"Butters!" he snapped. "Smash them!"

Butters swung his hammer high.
"For Kupa Keep!"

Across the field, Kyle's voice answered like steel. "Push them back! Don't falter!"

Jimmy sang a quick, sharp tune on his lute, and arrows flew fast with his magical rhythm.

"The Stick belongs with the Elves!" Stan leapt into the battle, sword clashing against Craig's dagger. "Your Kingdom doesn't deserve it!"

Craig smirked, shoving him back with a twist of his blade. "Funny, I was just about to say the same thing."

Tweek loosed an arrow that whistled past Kyle's crown, making the elf commander flinch. "-Ngh!- stay still, damnit!"

The fight dragged on until the ground was littered with splintered shields and broken arrows, the air heavy with blood and exhaustion. Both sides slowed, panting, weapons faltering as silence pressed against the chaos.

Kyle raised his hand, signaling his archers to hold. His chest heaved as he called out, "Stop! Look around, we are bleeding each other dry. The Stick isn't even here!"

Cartman spat, face red with rage. "You think I haven't figured that out yet, asshole? Quit stalling and fight like men! You're just calling it cause you're losing!"

A ripple of unease spread across both sides.

Stan took a shaky step forward, glaring across the field. "You want to spill more blood when the stick was never here to begin with? Is this what you wanted, Cartman? A pointless slaughter?"

Cartman slammed his staff into the dirt. "Shut the hell up! The Stick belongs to Kupa Keep! This war isn't pointless until I have it in my hands!"

Kyle's jaw tightened, his eyes sweeping over the wounded. His voice cut like a blade,

"And that's the difference between us. You'd destroy everything just to say you won."

The silence that followed struck heavier than any weapon.

At last, Kyle exhaled. "...Enough. Take your wounded and go. We'll do the same. This fight is done for now."

Cartman's eyes narrowed, but even he saw the toll on his own forces. He gave a short, sharp nod. "Fine. But hear this, when we face again, the Stick is ours! No matter how many of you have to die for it!"

Kyle didn't flinch. "Power isn't the same as worth. That's something you'll never understand."

The words hung between them.

The two armies began to pull back, dragging the injured, carrying the fallen.

Craig held Tweek's arm, steadying him as they walked. His voice was low, meant for him alone. "You alright, honey?"

Tweek let out a shaky breath, jittery but steadying himself.
"Y-Yeah..."

Craig's hand brushed against his back, firm and grounding. Tweek leaned into it for just a heartbeat before straightening, bow still clutched tight in his grip.

The clearing fell to silence, broken only by the groans of the wounded. Both armies retreated into the trees, bloodied, bitter, and still hunting the same artifact.

Chapter Text

The sun dipped low, the day's battle leaving many warriors injured and bruised. Kupa Keep would need a few days to recover their strength. Cartman muttered curses at the Elven Kingdom before storming into the Command Tent to lay out tonight's mission.

Craig guided Tweek to a shaded spot near their tent, hands gentle as he inspected the small gash on Tweek's side.

"Shit... those elves didn't go easy on you," Craig muttered, frowning as he brushed a stray lock of hair from Tweek's forehead.

"I-I'm fine, Craig," Tweek said, flinching slightly under his boyfriend's gaze. "It's just a scratch."

Craig shook his head, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of the wound. "You always say that, but you're bleeding. That's enough for me to worry."

He knelt beside Tweek, carefully pressing a cloth to the small gash.

Tolkien's voice cut through, calm but firm.

"It's my job as healer to disinfect and tend to wounds. Allow me to take over, Feldspar." His hands glowed faintly with magical light as he stepped forward.

Craig opened his mouth, about to protest.

"I-"

Tolkien raised a single hand, cutting him off. "The Grand Wizard needs to speak to you, I will handle this."

Craig glanced at Tweek, who offered a small, reassuring smile. He exhaled, shoulders relaxing.

"I'll be back, honey." He pressed a light kiss to Tweek's lips before stepping back just enough to let Tolkien work. The wound closed under Tolkien's practiced touch, and Tweek relaxed, easing into the healer's care.

Satisfied, Craig turned toward the Command Tent.

-

Craig lifted the tent flap open, and Cartman's sharp voice tore through.

"Feldspar!" Cartman waved his staff impatiently, eyes flashing with authority.

Craig crossed his arms, voice even but cautious. "Is this about the infiltration?"

Cartman's jaw tightened, his glare sharpening. "Of course it's about the mission, dumbass. You think I'd call you in here to just fuck around? Now listen clear!"

He stepped closer, staff tapping the ground with each deliberate word. "Tonight, you're sneaking into the Elven Kingdom's base. I want eyes on their defenses, patrols, and any lead about the Stick of Truth. You get caught, you get back in one piece. Understood?"

Craig nodded, his expression calm but alert. "Understood. I'll be ready."

"I know you will. You're one of my greatest warriors for a reason. You're too damn slick to get caught, so just bring back whatever intel you can grab."

Cartman waved his staff dismissively. "Now move fast, and don't screw this up."

.

Craig stepped out of the Command Tent, the camp quiet under the flickering lanterns and torchlight. The wounded were tended, and the remaining warriors moved sluggishly toward their tents, exhausted from the day's battle.

Above, the sky stretched dark and clear, a thin crescent moon casting a pale light over the tents and scattered weapons. Craig's eyes landed on him and Tweek's small tent.

He lifted the flap, and Tweek's face brightened at the sight of him, a small smile spreading as he patted the bedroll beside him.

Craig crouched down, brushing a loose strand of blonde hair from Tweek's forehead. "Hey, Tweekers," he murmured. "Cartman needs me for a mission tonight, I wanted to say goodbye before I leave."

Tweek's smile faltered. "Th-That's tonight?!"

Craig nodded, his voice soft but steady. "Yeah... I might not be back until morning. Their defenses aren't perfect, but it's better to stay careful. Their base is far, and it could take hours just to get in and out."

Worry flickered across Tweek's face. His fingers twisted together nervously, fidgeting with the edge of the bedroll. "B-Be safe, okay? I know this is your thing, but I- I can't help getting nervous whenever Cartman sends you out alone."

Craig pressed a gentle hand to Tweek's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin. "I'll be careful, I promise." He leaned in, pressing his lips to Tweek's in a lingering kiss before pulling back.

"I'll see you in the morning, honey."

Tweek's hands were still twisting together, his chest tight with anxiety, but his voice came out soft, though a little shaky. "I-I love you, Craig."

Craig held Tweek's hands firmly. "I love you too, babe."

He planted a soft kiss on Tweek's forehead, slowly stepping back until their fingers slipped free. With a small grin, he blew Tweek a final kiss before closing the tent flap behind him.

-

The forest around Kupa Keep was still, shadows stretching long under the moon. The Elven Kingdom's base lay an hour away, but Craig didn't allow himself think of the time, only of remaining unseen.

To be a thief required patience and control, each step was measured, careful not to snap twigs or rustle leaves. The crescent moon peeked through the branches, casting silver light across his path. Craig moved like a shadow between the trees, cloak blending with the darkness.

.

.

.

The Elven Kingdom's base sprawled across the land, elegant and intimidating. High wooden walls interlaced with polished stone. The faint glow of the elves patrol torches ahead promised trouble. Craig's jaw tightened. One misstep here and the mission could end before it began.

He adjusted his coat, fingers brushing the daggers at his belt and checking the small pouch of smoke bombs.

The elves were vigilant, but Craig noticed a pattern. Brief pauses, predictable turns, and gaps in their coverage that could be exploited.

He slipped through the side entrance, careful to stay out of sight. The warm glow of torchlight spilled from the corridors ahead, but the patrols moved with foreseeable rhythm, giving him just enough time to cover.

Craig crept along the dimly lit hallways, ears straining for any sound. Up ahead, muffled voices drifted through a slightly opened door, clearly a meeting of some kind. He pressed himself flat against the wall, careful not to cast a shadow, and leaned closer to listen.

Inside the room, several elves spoke in hushed tones, their faces tense with concern.

"-and we can't split our forces," one replied firmly. "If Kupa Keep discovers the artifact first, it could tip everything in their favor. The High Elf King won't forgive such a mistake."

Another elf piped up nervously, "Should we reinforce the perimeter? What if they try to sneak in tonight?"

"Calm yourself," a commanding voice said. "Patrols are doubled, and we keep the defenses active. We can't let fear dictate our actions."

Craig's fingers tightened around his dagger as he inched closer, trying to catch every word. The meeting continued, hints of strategy and concern spilling out, every detail a potential lead for the Stick of Truth.

A sudden creak echoed from behind. His head whipped around, eyes scanning the shadowed hallway, but the dim torchlight revealed nothing.

"Who's there?" a voice hissed sharply.

Craig froze, pressing himself flat against the wall, breath shallow. The sound of deliberate, careful steps drew closer.

He drew his dagger, muscles tensed, waiting for the attack.

Then-

Silence

The only sound the soft echo of the meeting beyond the door.

.

.

.

.

He slowly exhaled, letting his shoulders drop slightly. They've moved on... he told himself, heart still hammering.

.

.

.

.

A hand shot out from the shadows, grabbing his shoulder. Craig's eyes widened, heart skipping a beat.

"You're predictable," a voice murmured, low but sharp. "We were expecting you."

Before Craig could react, a hand clamped over his mouth, and another yanked him backward.

Struggling, he caught a glimpse of movement, but it was too late.

Everything went black.

Chapter Text

The world came back in fragments.

Craig's head throbbed, vision blurred as he blinked against the dark. The air was damp, carrying the faint smell of metal and old wood. Rope bit into his wrists, his arms pulled tight behind his back.

He shifted slightly, only to hear the chair scrape against the floor, a soft, deliberate sound that made his stomach twist.

A voice cut through the haze.

Low, measured, but edged with familiarity.

"So. The thief finally wakes."

Craig's jaw tightened. He forced his eyes to focus, catching the faint outline of figures in the dim light. Torches burned on the walls, casting long swaying shadows.

Another voice spoke up, firmer, laced with command.

"Cartman's missions are never subtle. We knew he'd send someone. Predictably, it was you."

"So tell us, Feldspar. Was spying for your 'Grand Wizard' worth the risk?" The first voice added.

Craig stayed silent, muscles tensed. Silence was safer than saying something that could be twisted against him.

A hand slammed down on the table in front of him, the sound echoing sharply in the confined space.

"Answer. Now."

The figures leaned closer, but the dizziness in Craig's head and the flickering torchlight kept their faces half hidden.

He finally spoke, voice low and steady. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't think it was worth it."

One of the figures leaned in, lips curling. "Worth it?" The figure laughed, short and sharp. "Cartman plays checkers. I play chess. You were expected."

Craig's vision wavered. He blinked hard, willing the dizziness to settle. Slowly, the blur sharpened.

The edges of a table, the glint of sharp steel at someone's hip, two figures looming across from him.

The flicker of torchlight finally caught their faces.

His stomach dropped.

.

.

.

.

The High Elf King, and his loyal right hand man.

Kyle and Stan, standing before him.

Kyle's tone hardened. "Cartman may not care how many lives get thrown away, but we do. So I'll ask you once. Why are you here?"

"You already know why I'm here," Craig shot back, voice tight. "You wouldn't have been waiting if you didn't."

Stan and Kyle exchanged a glance, brief but heavy with meaning.

Kyle leaned forward, tone sharp but controlled. "We've seen your work before. You're an excellent thief, too careful to get caught like this."

Stan crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. "But we were ready for you. Had we not received intel ahead of time, you would have slipped through clean."

Craig's jaw tightened, but he didn't break eye contact. "So what, you're saying Cartman set me up?"

Kyle didn't answer immediately. His silence was heavy, deliberate.

Finally, he leaned back, shaking his head.

"I'm saying Cartman's careless. You're here because he treats lives like pawns. He doesn't value your safety, he doesn't value anyone's, truly. If he actually valued your life, he wouldn't have thrown you into a suicide mission."

Stan's voice, quieter but firm, followed. "We didn't kill you when we had the chance. That should tell you something."

Craig's eyes flicked between them. The pieces began to settle, uncomfortably. "If you're trying to recruit me, it's not going to work."

Kyle shook his head again, arms crossed, expression grim.

"You need to realize the truth, Feldspar. Your leader doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about any of his people. This war to him is about control. About proving he can bend everyone to his will. The Stick won't bring balance, it won't fix anything. All it will do is give him more power to manipulate everyone around him, and Cartman will use anyone to get it."

Kyle leaned forward, voice low and cutting.

"And you should know exactly who I'm talking about when I say anyone."

Stan added, tone steady, eyes locked on Craig.
"Cartman already knows you'll do anything for Tweek. You think he won't use that against you?"

Tweek.

The name hit Craig like a punch to the chest. His stomach twisted, heart hammering. He didn't even know what time it was, was it morning already? Was Tweek awake, pacing, worrying himself sick for his arrival?

Fuck.

Craig's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent, eyes narrowing.

Stan crossed his arms, gaze steady.
"We're giving you a chance to make a different choice. Work with us. Stay undercover in Kupa Keep until the next battle, give us information when we regroup. But you can't tell Tweek. If he knows, Cartman will find out. And once Cartman sniffs it out, he'll use him as leverage until the day he doesn't need him anymore."

Kyle's voice dropped, low but sharp, each word weighted with warning.

"If Cartman figures out that Tweek is your weakness, it won't matter if you're his best warrior. He'll dangle Tweek's life in front of you to make you obey. He'll throw him onto the battlefield as bait, or worse, dispatch him on a mission designed to get him killed, just because it's convenient for him."

Kyle's next words landed like a blade.

“You need to cut things off with him, Feldspar. Protect him from Cartman. That greedy, power hungry bastard doesn’t care who gets hurt, and if he finds out you’re working with us while still tied to Tweek, he’ll use him against you. He’ll exploit every bit of your feelings, every bond you have, to manipulate you, to make you obey him. Once the Stick belongs to us, you can safely tell Tweek the truth and bring him over. But until then, you stay silent, and you stay apart.”

Craig's fists clenched, knuckles white. His voice, low and controlled, trembled slightly with tension.

"You don't know Cartman like I do. He's... reckless, yeah. Selfish, yeah..."

The weight of realization slammed into him. Cartman wasn't just reckless, he was corrupt. Using the war for his own gain. And Tweek... Tweek would be right in the crossfire if Craig didn't act.

His jaw tightened. "...So that's it. He doesn't give a fuck about us. About me. About Tweek."

He paused, breath shallow, mind racing.

Finally, eyes burning with resolve, he said, "Fine. If this is the only way to keep Tweek safe, I'll do it. I'll work undercover."

Kyle nodded slowly. "Then it's settled. We'll have our guards escort you through the gates. From there, you'll remain under their Kingdom until the next battle. No mistakes, Feldspar."

Craig nodded, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest.

-

The elven guards slipped Craig off at the gate, then closed the wooden doors behind him with a dull thud. Silence pressed against him, heavier than any weight of armor or weapon.

Craig's boots crunched softly against the gravel path, but the sound barely registered in his mind. His thoughts spun in a storm of disbelief, anger, and worry.

He swallowed hard, the reality settling in with a cold, sharp edge. Every playful smile, every shared glance with Tweek, every moment in battle, they had been under the shadow of Cartman's corruption all along.

His chest tightened, fingers flexing as if trying to wring out the tension from his own hands

He thought of Tweek. Bright, jittery, brave, and always on the edge of nerves. Tweek didn't deserve to be caught in Cartman's schemes, didn't deserve the danger that Craig could now see coming for him.

The last realization hit him like a hammer.

He couldn't stay with Tweek, not like this. Not while Cartman's influence still lingered.

If he loved him, truly loved him, he had to let him go.

Craig's shoulders slumped as he slowed his pace, the daylight casting long shadows across the path.

Every step felt heavier than the last. Every breath, a reminder of what he had to do.

His jaw tightened. His mind was made.

.

.

.

He had to break up with Tweek.

Chapter Text

Craig returned late afternoon, the weight of the past hours pressing down on him, the usual ease in his stride replaced by a subtle stiffness.

The Kingdom's warriors gathered around, voices overlapping with questions, curiosity, and concern.

"Feldspar! Did the elves capture you? Do you need any healing?" Tolkien asked, his voice calm but edged with worry, eyes scanning Craig for injuries.

"Uh... yeah, are you okay? You were gone forever, man. Did they, like... hurt you or something?" Clyde added, scratching the back of his head, stumbling over his words.

Tweek spotted him instantly. Panic flared in his wide, green eyes as he sprinted toward Craig, wrapping him tightly in an embrace. Tears streaked his pale cheeks.

"C-Craig! I was so worried! We were all so worried! I'm so glad you're okay!"

Craig's chest tightened. Every instinct screamed to wrap Tweek in his arms, to hold him, to kiss away the fear in his eyes. God, he wanted nothing more than to let himself be soft, to forget everything else.

But he couldn't. Not with what he knew, what he couldn't risk.

He gently shifted out of Tweek's hold, keeping his face neutral, unreadable.

Tweek faltered at his boyfriend's coldness, a frown creasing his brow. "C-Craig...? Did something happ-"

"Took you long enough, dick!" Cartman barked, stomping toward him with his staff clutched tight. "Where's the intel? What are those elven assholes hiding?"

Craig's stomach coiled. No greeting. No concern after he'd been gone half the day. Just demands. Just Cartman. How the hell had he ignored this for so long?

He kept his face blank, giving only a shrug. "No useful intel, sir. I scoured their entire base. They're just as clueless about the Stick's location as we are."

Cartman's face turned red, spit flying as he shouted. "You've been gone for over half a fucking day, and you didn't gain a single ounce of intel? Seriously? What the hell do I even keep you around for, Feldspar?!"

He jabbed a stubby finger at Craig's chest, voice dripping with venom. "You're supposed to be my greatest warrior, and you come back empty handed? Pathetic! Consider yourself demoted, asshole!"

With a dramatic stomp, Cartman spun on his heel, cape swishing as he marched off.

"Butters!" he screeched, muttering orders under his breath as he went. "Get a team together and start combing the forest for any information about the Stick's location. I don't care how small! I want results!"

Butters scrambled after him, tripping over his own feet. "R-Right away, Grand Wizard Sir!"

Craig didn't move. Didn't flinch. His expression gave nothing away, though the silence behind him was heavy with the eyes of the kingdom watching.

The rest of the kingdom, shaken for a moment, slowly drifted back to their tasks. Warriors limped toward the healer's tent. Others sharpened weapons or reinforced the barricades. A few followed Butters, grabbing supplies and murmuring plans for their search.

Within minutes, it was as if nothing had happened at all. The camp returned to its rhythm.

Tweek stayed where he was, eyes fixed on Craig. Something about his posture, the way he carried himself, was off. Subtle, but in a way that didn't feel like his boyfriend at all.

-

Night fell.

The change wasn't subtle anymore.

Craig hadn't stuck close to Tweek, not once. It wasn't like him. Usually he was glued to his boyfriend's side at every possible second. Now, though, the space between them was sharp. The rest of the Kingdom noticed too, throwing quiet, confused glances when they saw Tweek sitting alone.

Tweek's stomach twisted in sadness and frustration. He rubbed furiously at his face as tears slipped out, only for more to follow. Craig was avoiding him. It was obvious. Obvious to everyone.

"Hey... you alright?"

Tweek startled, his gaze flicking up.

Kenny had dropped down beside him, pulling his hood back just enough for his muffled voice to sound clearer.

"Oh... Princess... hi."

Kenny gave a muffled laugh. "You can just call me Kenny, Tweek. The dress thing's just so Cartman lets me sit out of fights. I'm not trying to die again in battle, dude. Getting my throat sliced once was enough."

Tweek blinked at him, half laughing through his tears, confused. Die... again? He didn't understand, but maybe it was just a bad joke Kenny was making to help him feel better.

Kenny must have sensed the awkwardness, because he scratched the back of his neck, then leaned in slightly. "So... what's up with you and Craig? He seems... pretty distant."

Tweek let out a shaky breath, fingers twitching. "I... I don't know. He won't talk to me. He just- he just pulls away, like I did something wrong." His voice cracked. "B-But I don't even know what I did..."

Kenny leaned back on his hands, eyes softening. "Hey, chill. You didn't do anything. Craig's always been a little cold, you know? Guy's like... ninety percent stone face, ten percent actual feelings."

Tweek blinked, tears still clinging to his lashes.

Kenny rested a hand on Tweek's shoulder. "Sometimes he shuts down, sometimes he opens up. Doesn't mean he cares about you any less."

Tweek's hands trembled as he wiped at his eyes. "...So what do I do?"

Kenny shrugged, casual but gentle. "Don't overthink it, man. Give him some space. If there's one thing I know about Craig, it's that he always comes back around."

"M'lord!!! M'lord!!!"

Butters frantic voice carried across the camp, high and piercing enough to cut through every conversation. Heads snapped toward him as he came barreling in, clutching something tight against his chest.

He stumbled to a stop in front of Cartman, breathless, eyes wide with urgency. "W-We found something on our scavenging trip! A map! It's got a lead to the Stick of Truth on it!"

Gasps rippled through the kingdom as Butters unrolled the weathered parchment, hands trembling with both excitement and nerves. Lines and symbols crisscrossed the page, pointing toward an unmarked path deep in the forest.

Cartman's face lit up, his greedy grin spreading ear to ear. "Well, well, well. Look at this, men," he said, snatching the map from Butters hands. "Looks like destiny just dropped itself right into my lap. The Stick is as good as ours! Tomorrow, all those elven assholes are gonna bow down to the Grand Wizard King!"

The camp erupted with cheers, weapons raised, energy buzzing.

Craig didn't join in. He stood blank faced, eyes locked on the map. Every line and symbol was burned into his memory. The elves would need this intel later.

He noticed, however, the markings were uncomfortably close to the Elven Kingdom. If the Kupa Keep force stormed that area, an encounter was inevitable.

Their next battle might come sooner than anyone anticipated.

-

The kingdom fell into slumber, the camp quiet except for the occasional crackle from the distant fires. Craig stepped into the small tent he shared with Tweek, every movement deliberate, heavy with the decision he carried.

He had rehearsed the words.

But the moment his eyes fell on Tweek, the sight stopped him cold.

Tweek sat curled on the bedroll, hands pressed to his face, shoulders shaking as silent sobs shook his body. Tears pooled, dripping into the folds of the blanket, a trembling form of the boy Craig loved more than anything.

Craig's chest tightened a sharp, painful twist. He sank to the floor beside him, staying just far enough to give space, but close enough that Tweek could feel his presence.

Tweek lifted his head slightly, puffy eyes blinking, cheeks wet. "Craig...?"

The sound of his name on Tweek's lips ripped at him. He had no choice but to follow through, yet seeing Tweek like this made it unbearably real.

Craig faltered, caught between protecting Tweek and shattering both their hearts.

But he needed to do it.

For Tweek's sake.

Craig swallowed, forcing his voice flat and controlled. "Tweek... I... I can't stay with you."

Tweek eyes widened, lips trembling. "Wh-What? What do you mean, Craig?"

Craig didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened, gaze fixed on the floor.

He exhaled slowly.

"I'm breaking up with you."

.

.

.

Tweek froze at the words he never thought he'd ever hear. Every worry he'd pushed aside, every sense of unease, it all came crashing back. His chest felt tight, and the world around him blurred into the pain of disbelief.

Craig's words echoed in his mind, sharp and cruel.

"C-Craig..." Tweek's voice was barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of disbelief. "Wh-Why...?"

He scrambled to sit upright, panic rising. "I... I don't understand! I thought... I thought we were okay! We-"

His hands clutched the edge of the bedroll as tears streamed freely again. His chest heaved, breath coming in uneven gasps. "You can't-... You can't just-"

Craig's chest tightened, shoulders heavy with the weight of the choice he had to make. He shifted slightly, keeping his distance, voice low and controlled.

"Tweek... I wish I could explain. I... I can't."

He took a slow step back, giving Tweek a little more space, but his presence still hung heavy in the small tent. The silence between was suffocating.

Tweek's chest heaved, voice cracking with a mix of sorrow and fury. "A-Are you serious? All our time together... all this time, and you just...?"

He trailed off, staring at Craig, eyes wide and searching, demanding answers he wasn't sure he'd get. His sadness twisted into anger, sharp and raw.

"H-How long have you fucking felt this way? Th-This is so out of nowhere! We were fine yesterday, what did I do? What the hell changed?"

Craig's gaze stayed fixed on the floor, unable to meet Tweek's. The ache of leaving him like this pressed down on his chest. His voice faltered.

"I'm so sorry."

Tweek's lips quivered, his hands shaking as if he could reach out and somehow pull Craig back.

But Craig didn't move closer.

Without another word, Craig lifted the tent flap and slipped out into the night, the cool air biting at his skin. Behind him, only the sound of the flap falling softly, and Tweek's quiet, broken sobs.

Chapter Text

Morning broke over Kupa Keep, pale light filtering through the camp. Warriors busied themselves, sharpening weapons, checking armor, and gathering supplies, readying themselves for the long journey the map promised.

Craig and Tweek moved through it all, but something invisible hung between them. Neither glanced at the other. Neither spoke. Their usual closeness, the ease of shared glances or casual touches, was gone.

It was obvious to anyone paying attention. Something had shifted. Something had broken.

Tweek stood a distance from the training dummies, bow in hand, quiver slung over his shoulder. His normal jittery energy was replaced with a cold, focused intensity. Every movement precise, each arrow hitting the bullseye without fail. Each shot carried the weight of frustration, confusion, and heartbreak. He looked less like the frantic warrior everyone knew.

Craig trained in another field, dagger in hand. His normally sharp strikes and flawless footwork faltered, each swing sloppy. The usual precision that made him one of the kingdom's greatest warriors was dulled, replaced by a weight pressing in on his shoulders and the storm inside his head.

Whispers rippled through the air, mixing with clang of daggers and the snap of bowstrings. Everyone knew something had happened, the tension between the two warriors was undeniable.

From the edge of the camp, Cartman's voice cut through the usual morning prep.

"Alright, everyone, shut the hell up and listen!" he barked, slamming his staff against the dirt for attention. "Training time's over! We've got a map, and we're moving out this second!"

He strutted in front of the gathered warriors, chest puffed, cape dragging through the mud. "The elves are out there, sniffing around for the Stick just like us. If we don't beat them to it, we're screwed. So we march now, while we've got the lead!"

Scott timidly raised a hand. "Uh... now now? Like, right this second? We just-"

"Yes, Scott, now now!" Cartman snapped. "What, you wanna sit around while the elves steal our destiny? Grab your crap and move your asses! The Stick of Truth waits for no one!"

"Butters!" he pointed, "map check!"

Butters scrambled forward, nearly tripping over his cape as he held up the parchment. "R-Right here, sir! Safe and sound!"

Cartman snatched it out of his hands, holding it high. "Behold, men! The path to ultimate power! And by sundown, it'll lead us straight to victory!"

Excitement rippled through the camp. Armor clanked, weapons were strapped tight, supplies hastily gathered. The air filled with a mix of determination and adrenaline.

Cartman led the way out of Kupa Keep, staff held high like a torch to guide them all, cape dragging proudly behind him.

-

"Stay in formation, men!" Cartman shouted, stomping forward. "Eyes sharp, ears open! Elves could be lurking anywhere, the sneaky little bastards."

The warriors followed, boots crunching against the forest trail. The deeper they went, the quieter it grew. Birds fell silent, replaced by the creak of leather straps and the occasional clank of metal.

Butters hurried at Cartman's side, fumbling with the map. "U-Uh, according to this, we just follow this trail and then- oh jeez, it sorta forks up ahead, sir..."

Cartman ripped the map out of his hands without slowing. He squinted, lips pursed, then jabbed his staff dramatically toward the left path. "That way!"

Farther down the line, Tweek trudged with his bow slung across his back, jaw tight, fingers flexing restlessly at his sides. But the tremors in his body weren't nerves. They were anger, grief, confusion. He didn't look at Craig once.

Craig followed several paces behind, dagger at his hip, shoulders stiff. Normally his eyes would be scanning every angle of the forest, sharp and calculating. But now, his gaze drifted, unfocused. His steps lagged just enough for Tolkien to nudge him back in line.

Whispers passed through the ranks. Everyone could feel it, the divide between their two best fighters.

"Stay sharp, men! We're on enemy turf now. If you see pointy ears, you kill them with no hesitation!" Cartman barked, voice commanding.

The forest closed in as they marched, the trees crowding the path, branches snagging at cloaks and armor.

Every step forward felt heavier. With Cartman shouting orders at the front and their numbers crashing through the trail, there was no chance of subtlety. They weren't sneaking anywhere, and everyone knew it.

It was only a matter of time before the elves caught on.

-

The path narrowed, forcing them into a tighter line. Shadows stretched long across the dirt, and the silence grew suffocating. Even Clyde, usually oblivious, whispered nervously to Tolkien. "Dude... it's like, too quiet."

And then it happened.

The sharp sound of bowstrings split the air, arrows whistling from the treeline. One slammed into the dirt inches from Cartman's foot, another rebounded off a warrior's shield.

"Draw your weapons!" Tolkien shouted, raising his hands as a surge of magical energy crackled around them.

Figures dropped from the trees, cloaked in green and brown, blades flashing as they surrounded the enemy.

The Elves.

From the shadows, a commanding voice rang out, steady and sharp.

"Grand Wizard King! You trespass on elven lands. Turn back now, or be cut down where you stand!"

Kyle stepped forward, parting his soldiers. His blade caught the the fading daylight, glinting as he leveled it toward Cartman. His eyes burned with authority, unwavering.

"Your greed for the Stick blinds you. This forest will not suffer your foolishness any longer!"

His right hand man, Stan, moved up beside him, fists at his sides, steady and cold.

"Cartman, this ambush is blatant. Pull your forces out. We won't let you turn our land into a slaughterhouse. We don't want a fight, but we will stop one."

For just a moment, their gaze flicked to Craig. A sharp, deliberate reminder of the agreement they had made, of the role Craig still had to play.

"Hold the line! Protect your King!" Cartman shouted, shoving Butters in front of him like a human shield.

Butters yelped, nearly tripping over himself as he raised his hammer. "O-oh jeez, I don't think I'm ready for this!"

Kupa Keep surged forward, cries of war ripping through the air. Steel clashed, arrows hissed, the forest now alive with violence.

Cartman's shrill command pierced above it all, "FOR THE STICK! SLAUGHTER EVERY LAST ONE OF THESE POINTY EARED COCKSUCKERS!"

-

The battle roared on relentless.

The clash of steel against steel rang through the trees, each cry and clash driving deeper into the night. Warriors fell on both sides, trampling into the dirt as the lines broke and reformed, blood painting the forest floor.

Craig cut down another elf with a quick twist of his dagger, but each strike lacked its usual lethal precision. He moved with deliberate slack, holding back enough that his daggers grazed rather than stuck true. Every motion screamed restraint, a conscious effort to avoid causing real harm.

From across the battlefield, Tweek caught it. Even in the chaos, it was clear. Each slash of his dagger lacked its usual bite, each strike barely grazing the elves instead of cutting deep. His movements were hesitant, slower than they should be, his footwork off.

He never fought like this. Craig was always sharp, unshakable. Tweek's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as he watched each hesitant strike. Something wasn't right. Craig was holding back.

"Tweek! A little help here!" Tolkien shouted, deflecting a blow as an elf lunged past him.

Tweek snapped back to the fight, drawing his bowstring, the arrow burying itself into the attacker's throat before he could even blink.

Another cry split the forest, Cartman's shrill panic. "Protect me, you useless fucks! I'm the King!" He was pinned against a tree, Butters desperately holding off two elves in front of him.

Over the roar of the shouts and strikes, Kyle's voice rang clear. "Feldspar!" His blade cut down another warrior, eyes locking with Craig's through the chaos.

No one else understood. To Kupa Keep, it was just the High Elf King calling out an enemy's name in the heat of battle.

But Craig knew better.

He knew exactly what Kyle meant.

The weight of it slammed into him, suffocating.

Around him, his kingdom fought and bled. Steel, arrows, screams, loyalty poured out on the ground. Every one of them trusted him. Every one of them believed in him.

Craig. Their anchor. Their strongest warrior. The one who never faltered. The one who never broke.

His knuckles whitened around his dagger. His pulse pounded, louder than the clash of the war raging around him. His breath came shallow, chest coiling tighter with every second.

And then-

he moved.

A sharp swerve, dagger slicing through the dim forest light, deliberate, precise...

.

.

.

.

.

and it drove straight into Cartman's side.

The shriek that followed tore through the battlefield. Cartman's staff clattered to the ground as he staggered, eyes bulging wide in disbelief.

The Kupa Keep warriors froze. Blades hung in the air. A few mouths opened, then shut, as the battlefield went suddenly quiet around them.

"W-What the fuck, Craig?!" Cartman sputtered, voice raw and ragged, spit and blood smearing his lips as he glanced down at the gash in his side. "You- you Goddamn traitor!!"

Around him, the battlefield seemed to still. Warriors halted in stunned disbelief, some lowering their weapons, the forest ringing with the echoes of betrayal.

Tweek's eyes widened, bow slipping from his hands, falling uselessly to the dirt as the scene unfolded before him.

Craig stood over Cartman, dagger still slick with blood, face unreadable.

Tweek's chest tightened until it ached, his breath catching as the full horror sank in,

Craig had betrayed them.

Chapter Text

For a moment, the battlefield was still.

Then it erupted again.

"Shit!" Tolkien's voice cut through the chaos as he lunged forward. His palm glowed with healing light, pressing hard against the gash in Cartman's side. The Grand Wizard wheezed, face twisted in pain and outrage.

Tolkien's jaw clenched. He split his focus, keeping Cartman alive while deflecting Craig with precise bursts of magic. Each clash sparked with raw energy, every movement a desperate scramble for survival.

And in that moment, it became clear. This battlefield was no longer just a war between kingdoms. It was a war of trust, loyalty, and betrayal. The warrior Kupa Keep had counted on was now a traitor in plain sight.

"Feldspar!" Kyle shouted, cutting through the chaos. "Stay sharp! Trust your skill and hold our ground!"

Craig's eyes flicked to Kyle's, a sharp acknowledging nod passing between them.

Breaking from his clash with Tolkien, Craig broke off sharply into the heart of the battle, dagger flashing, every move precise, intentional, deadly.

Craig moved like a shadow, not holding back this time. Every swing carved paths for the elves, every maneuver designed to give them the advantage. Kupa Keep warriors scrambled, shields clanging, weapons raised to defend their king who staggered under the assault.

But before he could reach his next target, movement caught the corner of his eye.

Tweek.

Standing just a few feet away, bow drawn, arrow pulled and aimed straight at him. Tweek's wide eyes burned with fury, hands steady despite the adrenaline running through his body.

Craig froze for a heartbeat.

He didn't want this. He didn't want to hurt Tweek.

But Tweek's stare made it clear, he would not hold back.

The forest around them blurred into the background. The shouts, the clashing steel, the whistling arrows. There was only Tweek, and the impossible, heart wrenching confrontation between them.

Tweek's hands trembled, not from fear, but anger. The arrow sat poised against the string, his aim unyielding, his glare heated with betrayal.

"You- how could you- after everything?!" Tweek shouted through tears, voice raw.

Craig's chest tightened. Words slipped out before he could stop them. "Babe... it's not what it looks like."

Tweek froze, scowling.

"Babe?! Don't 'babe' me! So what is it, huh? That you're just a backstabber? How long have you been siding with them?!"

Craig said nothing. Kyle and Stan's watchful eyes left him no room to explain. He had to follow through, for Tweek's safety.

Tweek stepped closer, arrow aimed, eyes blazing.

"All this fucking time...was it a lie? Our relationship, was any of it even real to you?!"

His voice cracked under the weight of rage and heartbreak. He advanced, arrow trembling but steady.

"I was totally wrong about you. I opened myself up, and let you in. But you've got spikes, man." His breath hitched, a tear slipping free. "You've got spikes..."

The bowstring strained, the arrow ready to fly.

Craig's stomach twisted. Every instinct screamed to move forward, to pull Tweek close, to explain it wasn't true.

But he couldn't. Not here. Not now. Not with the elves counting on him. Not with Cartman's authority still blinding so many to his cause.

Craig lunged deliberately, gripping Tweek's wrists and pinning him just before the string snapped. His jaw clenched, breath ragged. Every muscle ached from the effort, not just physical, but the emotional strain of holding back the only person he had ever truly cared for.

"Agh?! Craig?!" Tweek's voice cracked in disbelief.

Craig's hands moved quickly, pulling a rope from his bag. Chest tightening, heart hammering. Words he wanted to speak, pleas, confessions, apologies, were trapped in his throat.

He forced control over everything.

"No, it's Feldspar to you now."

Tweek's eyes widened, disbelief flickering into shock and terror. The rope tightened, restricting his movement. Every word Craig had denied, every fear Tweek had voiced, felt set in stone.

This was confirmation.

Craig bound Tweek with practiced precision, with just enough slack to breathe but not enough to fight. Then without a word, he turned back into the battle, leaving Tweek restrained, alive, but broken.

The elves pressed forward, striking with lethal coordination. Craig's guidance made them deadly. Kupa Keep warriors, already scattered and shaken by Cartman's wound, began to falter.

Tolkien shouted, pressing healing magic against Cartman. "We can't hold him like this! Fall back! Fall back!"

Kupa Keep hesitated, but the sight of their leader clinging to survival, broke their resolve.

The elves pushed their advantage.

Slowly, Kupa Keep began a hurried, chaotic retreat, dragging their wounded leader from the battlefield while still defending against the rival kingdom.

The battlefield opened behind them as Craig and the elves forced them to withdraw, every step a reminder of the betrayal they'd just witnessed.

Tweek struggled against the rope, grief burning in his chest.

A Kupa Keep warrior swung his sword, slicing through the rope in one clean motion. "Let's go!"

Tweek yanked his arms free and bolted, desperation in every stride.

Everywhere he looked, the elves pressed forward, claiming the field. Shouts of victory and screams of defeat mixed together as the enemy celebrated their decisive win.

Before disappearing into the trees, Tweek cast one last glance over his shoulder.

Craig stood at the center of the devastation, dagger in hand, elves moving like extensions of his will. Kupa Keep was scattered at his feet. The betrayal hadn't just hurt, it had won them the battle.

Tweek's chest burned. Hands trembling. Heart screaming. But he forced himself to run and not look back.

-

Back at the Elven Kingdom base, the camp was quiet, the battle over, the forest beyond the walls still echoing faintly with distant cries from the enemy.

Craig leaned against the wooden wall of the camp, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of forest beyond. His dagger secured at his side, but his mind was still sharp, racing with the chaos of the battle.

And threaded through it all, was Tweek.

His trembling hands, his voice breaking, the tears Craig couldn't forget.

He shut his eyes, but the image only burned deeper. He told himself it was necessary, that Kyle was right, that the elves needed him.

But no matter how he turned it, the guilt pressed heavier, that he hadn't just betrayed his kingdom.

He'd betrayed the only person who had ever trusted him completely, even if it was to keep him safe.

Kyle and Stan approached, eyes sharp, reading the storm behind Craig's calm expression.

"You did good, Feldspar," Kyle said, nodding firmly. His gaze held a rare warmth beneath the authority. "Your timing, your execution, it turned the battle in our favor."

Craig said nothing, simply tilting his head in acknowledgment.

Stan stepped closer, concern lining his features.
"What was your kingdom doing in the woods anyway? Was this a planned ambush?"

Craig shook his head slowly. "No. They found a map. It led to the Stick's location."

With a smooth motion, Craig slipped the map from his belt pouch and spread it across the table with a thief's precision. "Wasn't hard grabbing this when everyone was so distracted over Cartman's wound," he said flatly.

Stan and Kyle leaned over the map, eyes narrowing as they took in the details.

"Incredible," Stan breathed, awe breaking through his worry. "Your skills... they-"

Kyle shook his head, cutting him off. "While Feldspar's skills are impressive, the map could still be useless. Our scouts reported the Stick doesn't stay put. It shifts, moves unpredictably. We don't know how long it can lie in one place."

He traced the circled location with his finger. "But if this lead is even partially true, timing is critical. We need to act fast."

Stan's frown deepened. "Kyle... our soldiers are wounded. They need time to recover. A few days at least."

For a moment, their eyes met, speaking the unspoken words only they understood.

Craig's jaw clenched, anticipation behind his unreadable expression. He had already calculated the next step.

"Kyle..." Stan started, hesitating. "It's too risky."

"Feldspar," Kyle continued, his voice sharp. "Tolkien's healing abilities are unmatched. Your old leader will be recovered and ready for another strike soon. We need you to act before Kupa Keep regroups."

Kyle cleared his throat.

"You will infiltrate Kupa Keep's base. Gather Tolkien's healing supplies, weapons, potions, any intelligence you can find. Every piece counts. Everything you bring back will shape our next raid on the Stick's location, and aid our allies recovery."

Craig's eyes flicked down at the map again, then back to Kyle.

A brief nod sealed the agreement.

"I'll do it."

Stan's brows knitted. "And... you're sure you can get in and out without being seen?"

Craig leaned back slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't underestimate my abilities just because your kingdom got lucky once. I've slipped through your base countless times, and not a single guard noticed I was there."

Kyle tugged at his collar, eyes widening as Craig's words sank in. A flash of disbelief crossed his face before he straightened, shoulders tense with cautious respect.

"...Interesting. Then the success of our next strike depends on you, Feldspar. No mistakes."

Craig nodded, letting his confidence speak for him.

Betrayal had won the day, yes.

But now, the true work was only beginning.

Chapter Text

Cartman sat on this throne, slamming his fist onto the table. "One of my top fucking warriors betrayed me! And everyone knows that fag and his boyfriend were unstoppable together. We need new strategies. Now."

Scott stammered, voice small. "U-Uh... didn't you just demote him as your top warrior the other day, sir?"

"Shut the fuck up Scott!" Cartman barked, spinning toward him. "Now he's probably running off to those gay douchebag elves about our lead with the map! We need to act fast before they figure out our next move."

"Butters!" Cartman snapped, teeth clenched.

"Y-Yes m'lord!" Butters gulped, hands tremblind.

"Where's the map?" Cartman demanded.

Butters swallowed hard. "Uh...y-you took it from me during the trip, sir"

Cartman froze. His hand hovered midair, then darted to his side. He patted his pockets once, twice, then again, faster, more frantic. His eyes widened as the truth sank in.

The map wasn't there.

Cartman's face drained of color, then flushed red in an instant. His lips peeled back in a snarl.

Feldspar.

"That GODDAMN thief! What a fucking asshole!" He slammed his staff onto the ground, the clatter echoing like thunder, making the entire kingdom flinch.

"I gave him everything! Training, glory, even that sweet ass title!" Cartman shouted, eyes filled with rage. "And what does he do? Betrays me! Betrays Kupa Keep!"

Murmurs rippled through the Kingdom. Warriors exchanged nervous glances, whispers of suspicion and fear.

"Maybe he was working for them all along," one warrior muttered under his breath.

"Or maybe he just used Tweek to figure out our plan so he could get the stick for himself," another whispered, eyes darting nervously toward Tweek.

Tweek's grip on his bow tightened, knuckles white, but he didn't flinch. He had already seen the truth in Craig's actions long before any whispers reached him. Every accusation, every doubt, only fueled the fire burning quietly in his chest.

His focus narrowed, shutting out everything but the target ahead. The anger inside him didn't burn out, it hardened. What remained was retribution, focused and sharp, aimed at taking down the Elven Kingdom.

Craig had taken more than loyalty. He'd ripped away a piece of Tweek that could never be returned, a fragment of his heart wrenched free.

But Tweek had learned to contain it, letting it fuel his determination instead of breaking through.

-

Tweek trained relentlessly, every arrow loosed with sharp precision, every breath measured, every movement exact. The targets lined up across the training yard blurred into irrelevance. The only thing that mattered was the string in his fingers and the wood of his bow.

Hours passed, but Tweek didn't notice. Sweat streaked his face, his muscles burned, but he didn't stop. Not for food, not for water, not for rest. His thoughts kept drifting back to Craig, resentment gnawing at him no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

A soft voice broke the rhythm of string and arrow.

"Hey... you've been at this for hours, Tweek." Kenny stepped lightly to the edge of the training yard, concern written across his face. "It's okay to take a break, you know."

Tweek didn't respond. He drew another arrow, aimed, and released. Dead center.

Kenny didn't let the silence stand.
"Look, Tweek, we all know something's bothering you. You can't keep pushing yourself like this."

"I'm fine," Tweek muttered, drawing another arrow and letting it fly. Another perfect hit.

Kenny shook his head. "You're not. This... it's about Craig, isn't it?"

Tweek faltered for a moment, bow dipping slightly. He whipped around to face Kenny, eyes sharp. "You mean Feldspar? He's nothing to me now."

Kenny opened his lips, but Cartman cut him off sharply.

"What're you doing out here, Kenny? You wanted to be a chick, so you're gonna act like one! Stay away from my warrior and go make us damn sandwiches for dinner! My army needs fuel, not your gross sympathy!"

Kenny didn't reply. His eyes flicked toward Tweek for a brief moment, his expression carrying a quiet unease. He let out a slow sigh, and disappeared toward the kitchen.

Cartman's gaze stayed locked on Tweek as he released arrow after arrow into the target. "Not bad, Tweek," he said, voice low. "That dirty backstabber was holding you back."

Tweek stayed silent, lowering his bow to hang by his side.

Cartman smirked. "He made you soft, didn't he? Hesitant. Weak. And look at you now. Sharp, deadly... better than him."

Tweek's hands trembled, but he refused to look at Cartman. He raised his bow and continued drawing, aiming, releasing. Arrow after arrow, each one punctuating the silence that had grown between them.

"Oh, and don't think I didn't notice it," Cartman said, closing the distance. "That look in your eyes, that hesitation in the last battle? That could've been your end against him. You can't afford it next time."

His voice dropped, deliberate and sharp.

"Next time, Tweek...you don't hesitate. You don't aim to wound. You aim to end it. To finish it. No mercy, no second thoughts."

He leaned in, close enough for Tweek to feel the heat of his words.

"You kill him."

Tweek froze, bowstring drawn tight, arrow fixed in place. His chest tightened. He still loved Craig, but the sting of betrayal ripped through every cherished memory.

Cartman stepped back, arms wide, grinning. "See that? That's power. That's control. You don't need him. And if he ever shows his face again, you'll be ready."

Tweek swallowed hard, breath heavy. He didn't speak. He didn't look at Cartman. He pulled back another arrow, aimed, and released.

Bullseye.

Cartman's grin widened. "That's it, Tweek. That's the drive I like to see. That's the real you. Don't let anyone, especially that traitor, stand in your way again."

He gave Tweek one last sharp look, then spun on his heel. His heavy boots clanged against the training yard as he strode away, leaving Tweek alone with his bow, the targets, and the turmoil simmering in his chest.

The air hung heavy in silence after he left, the weight of his words pressing on Tweek, even as the echo of his footsteps steps faded.

Chapter Text

The difference between Kupa Keep and the Elven Kingdom had been settling on Craig little by little, but now it pressed on him with full weight.

Kupa Keep was noise and chaos. Orders barked, soldiers rushing to obey, afraid to slip up. It was suffocating. Every move watched under Cartman's sharp gaze. It was less of a kingdom and more a cage, with loyalty demanded through fear.

The Elven Kingdom was...different. Discipline here came from respect, not fear. Even in the middle of training, there was a calm order to it all. Soldiers moved with purpose, not the panic Craig was used to. Their king led with sharp commands, yes, but also with a kind of respect that Cartman never bothered with.

He felt more at ease here than he ever had at Kupa Keep. For the first time in months, he felt like he could actually breathe.

Around him, soldiers sparred and repaired their gear, the clang of steel and murmur of voices filling the training field. Craig stayed off to the side, quiet, working through his own routine.

Two daggers caught the fading sunlight in his hands, their edges freshly sharpened. He steadied them in his palms before snapping his arm forward. The first blade sank into the target with a solid thunk. The second followed a breath later, dead center.

Craig walked over, tugged them free, and stepped back. Again. And again. Every throw cut straight into the bullseye, his movements sharp and precise. It wasn't luck. It was control, carved into him through years of practice.

Kyle and Stan stopped a few paces away, watching.

"Not bad at all, Feldspar," Kyle said with genuine admiration in his voice, eyes tracking Craig's every move. "You make that look effortless. Dead center every time. Honestly, I didn't expect this."

Stan leaned against the edge of the training field, arms crossed. "Agreed. Watching you handle those daggers like that...it's clear you're more than ready for tonight's infiltration. We're lucky to have you on our side."

Craig didn't break his rhythm. He pulled another dagger from his belt, spun it once in his hand, and tossed it straight into the target's bullseye without a word. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, but his eyes stayed sharp.

"I've had some practice," he said, pulling the blade free before facing them. "Guess fighting against your kingdom a lot had its perks."

Kyle's eyes narrowed, a mix of respect and concern in his gaze. "Well, tonight's mission isn't just practice. We're counting on you to get in and out clean. But...stay smart. Don't take any risks you don't have to."

Stan's tone was lighter, but firm, handing Craig a pack of equipment for his mission. "Yeah, dude. Just focus on getting the supplies back in one piece. If anything goes wrong, retreat. Your safety comes first."

Craig's fingers tightened around his daggers, mind flashing to what Cartman would've done. Yelled, slammed his staff, called him every name in the book, demanded results with no room for error.

Here, Kyle and Stan spoke calmly, with trust and clarity.

He adjusted the grip on his daggers, eyes sharp and focused. "Consider it done."

Craig slung the pack Stan had given him over his shoulders, and disappeared into the shadows.

His steps were silent, each movement deliberate, his form blending perfectly into the night.

As he vanished, Stan leaned closer to Kyle.

"...You think we made the right call?" he whispered.

Kyle's eyes lingered on the spot where Craig had faded, crossing his arms with quiet approval. 

"Without a doubt. He's sharp, skilled, and he won't take any unnecessary risks. If anyone can pull this off, it's him."

Stan and Kyle locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Both knew they'd gained more than just another fighter.

Feldspar was a valuable asset, dare they say a friend, someone they could truly count on.

-

The moon hung low over Kupa Keep, silver light spilling across the walls. Craig moved with practiced silence, precise and unseen, eyes scanning every patrol, every blind spot. He knew the routines, the weak spots, where a guard lingered too long, the areas they usually patrolled. It was all familiar to him.

He dropped lightly onto the stone walkway below, dagger in hand. Every step was measured, deliberate. He slipped past the guards without a sound, blending into the shadows, letting the kingdom's own noise and chaos work against itself.

He moved past patrols and down corridors, finally stopping in front of the storage chamber. The door was locked, but Craig's fingers worked quickly. Lock picking to him was second nature, sharpened from years of necessity.

A soft click, and the door cracked just enough for him to slip inside.

Rows of supplies, potions, herbs, and weapons lined the room.

He moved without hesitation, collecting what mattered with natural swiftness. A potion here, a pouch of herbs there. Nothing wasted, nothing overlooked.

With the bag packed, he turned to leave,

and froze.

A familiar silhouette on night duty moved along the perimeter,

Tweek.

Craig's rushing heartbeat coursed through him, locking him in place.

He could have slipped past unnoticed, melted into the shadows and been gone in an instant. For Craig, that part was effortless.

But... he didn't.

He didn't want to just sneak past. He wanted... to see him again. To hear his voice. Just once.

He stayed.

A twig snapped beneath his foot, an intentional sound. Close enough to be heard, but far enough to avoid immediate danger.

Tweek reacted instantly, bow raised, arrow pulled, ready to fire.

His eyes narrowed as they landed on Craig. His aim faltered, just slightly, before snapping back into position.

"It's you, traitor..." Tweek said, voice low and cold.

Craig stayed still, dagger in hand. He didn't dare move closer. Not yet. Not while Tweek was on edge.

Then Tweek fired.

The arrow zipped past Craig's head, mere inches away, sharp and fast. He flinched, but he knew better. Tweek's aim was flawless.

He hadn't missed. He'd chosen restraint.

It was a warning. A test.

"You purposely missed," Craig stated, calm but firm.

"And you purposely stayed," Tweek shot back, bow still raised, eyes locked. "You could've left without a sound. But you didn't."

Craig ran a hand over the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. "I just... wanted to make sure you were okay."

Tweek's gaze fell to the bag of stolen supplies slung across Craig's shoulder. His jaw tightened, frustration and something sharper, flashing across his face.

"Seriously?" Tweek snapped, voice sharp. "You wanted to make sure I'm okay? What the hell is your problem?! You betray the kingdom, betray me, and now you're telling me this? You don't make any fucking sense."

Cartman's words from before echoed into his mind.

"Next time, Tweek...you don't hesitate."

Tweek drew another arrow, pulling back with precision, the tip pointed straight at Craig.

"If you don't get the fuck out of my sight," he hissed, teeth clenched. "It's my duty to kill any intruders."

Craig's voice caught in his throat.
"Tweek... I can expla-"

He faltered. He couldn't explain, not yet. Not with the dangers he knew. Fuck, he missed Tweek, damn it. He just wanted to see him, to reach out. But acting on impulse had already put them both in a dangerous spot. And the glare in Tweek's eyes made it painfully clear he didn't feel the same.

He exhaled slowly, weighing his next move.

"Just go, Crai- ngh... Feldspar."

Tweek's last word spat out like venom, sharper than any arrow could ever strike.

The night air hung heavy, thick with unspoken words and the weight of what had just passed between them.

For a moment, Craig hesitated, caught between retreat and impulse, before finally slipping into the darkness.

Tweek's bow stayed raised for a heartbeat longer, eyes fixed on where Craig had been, body tense, mind racing. The arrow wobbled, but he held it, forcing himself to stay in control.

He didn't lower the bow until Craig had vanished completely, leaving him alone with the silence of the night and the churn of emotions he couldn't let show.

Then Cartman's full words from before cut through his thoughts like a blade.

"Next time, Tweek...you don't hesitate. You don't aim to wound. You aim to end it. To finish it. No mercy, no second thoughts."

And once again, he had hesitated.

Torn between his heart and the orders he'd been given.

Chapter Text

Morning settled over the Elven Kingdom, bathing the courtyard with a gentle light.

Craig returned from the night's mission, moving silently across the courtyard, the pack of supplies slung over his shoulder. His expression was neutral, unreadable, but his posture carried a heaviness that drew quiet glances from those he passed.

Kyle's eyes followed him as he approached.

"Is something on your mind, Feldspar? You seem..tense," His tone was calm, but his gaze searching. "What happened out there?"

"That was a long night you were out," Stan added, brow furrowed. "Everything alright?"

"I'm fine," Craig muttered, though the sharp edge in his tone said otherwise.

He dropped the pack down in front of them, the supplies clinking slightly as he released the strap. "Here. Everything's accounted for."

Stan and Kyle exchanged a brief glance. They knew something was off, but neither pushed.

The work resumed, supplies being sorted with quiet efficiency. Warriors lined up for healing potions, wincing as wounds were stitched and bandaged. Herbs were crushed, ointments applied, injuries tended. The courtyard hummed with purpose, orderly and focused.

Kyle crossed his arms, standing beside Craig as he watched his Kingdom recover.

"This is all thanks to you, you know," Kyle said, eyes scanning the busy courtyard. "Everything's running smoother because of what you brought back."

Stan leaned against a railing, arms folded. "Yeah... you really pulled through. We needed this."

"It was nothing," Craig replied, brushing it off. "Just handling my end."

Kyle studied him a moment longer. "Doesn't seem like nothing. Something out there must've hit harder than you're letting on."

Craig kept his gaze on the soldiers, jaw clenched. He said nothing, but the tightness in his shoulders spoke for him.

Stan's tone softened. "Hey...you don't have to act tough all the time, dude. You can't carry everything alone."

Kyle nodded in agreement. "Exactly. We look out for our own. We just want to make sure you're okay."

Craig finally met their eyes.

"I was gone all night. I'm fine. Just...tired."

Kyle gave a slow nod, picking up on the tension in Craig. "Alright. But don't think I won't ask again. We've got your back, Feldspar."

Stan nudged Craig lightly on the shoulder. "Yeah. No matter what. You're one of us now."

Their support pressed on Craig in a way that steadied him, even if he didn't voice it. His lips lifted just enough to show a flicker of thanks.

-

The courtyard filled with renewed energy.

Elves adjusted armor straps, tested weapons, and checked supplies. They moved with purpose, reviewing maps and rehearsing routes. Stan and Kyle moved among them, checking gear and confirming strategy, their presence guiding a calm order throughout the kingdom.

Craig drifted between groups, belt slung over his shoulder. But the weight in his chest hadn't eased, it clung from the night before. The way Tweek's eyes had burned into him, the sharp tension between them, and the distance that had settled between them like a wall.

He replayed it over and over. His choice had been made, but the guilt wouldn't let go.

Kyle approached, handing him a small satchel. "Here, extra supplies. You'll need them."

Craig took it, fingers lingering on the strap.

Kyle's gaze held steady on him. "Judging by how tense you've been today, I'm guessing this is about last night's mission. Whatever it is, you made the right call. You did what had to be done."

Craig's eyes dropped to the ground. The words caught somewhere between his chest and throat, thick and heavy.

"The mission went fine. Took care of the supplies without any problems, I was ready to head out..."

His voice fell lower, against his will.

"...But then I saw him. Tweek. The way he looked at me, anger, resentment. It hasn't left my mind. I know I made the right choice to protect him, but...it doesn't feel right."

He hesitated for the briefest moment, before letting his guard slip.

"I...miss him."

.

.

.

Kyle paused, letting the rare vulnerability settle.

He didn't speak right away. Instead, he gave Craig the silence to breathe, to let the words linger in the air.

Then, slowly, he rested a hand on Craig's shoulder.

"I get it. It's hard, seeing someone you care about hurt, even when you know you did the right thing. But you're doing what has to be done, Feldspar. It was the right choice, for you and for him. That's what matters."

Craig's shoulders eased a fraction. His voice came stripped of its usual edge. "...Thanks. For listening."

Kyle gave a small, reassuring nod, accepting the words without pressing further.

-

The elves were ready to march. Their strength was restored, weapons sharpened, and the path ahead set. Together, they stood ready for battle.

The group assembled near the gate. Craig adjusted the pack over his shoulder, checked his daggers, and fell into formation beside Stan and Kyle.

Kyle caught his eye, a subtle nod passing between them. Craig returned it with the barest lift of his chin.

No words were needed. They knew what they had. Skills, trust, and now a bond built through what they'd been through together.

Yet, in the back of his mind, Craig still carried the memory of last night. Every unspoken word between him and Tweek still pressed at the edges of his thoughts.

Even as the path ahead demanded his full focus.

-

Back at Kupa Keep, Cartman stormed across the courtyard, face red and fists clenched, his cape whipping behind him like a banner of rage.

"What the hell happened to half of our supplies?! Who the fuck is responsible for this?!"

His glare swept through each night guard, eyes narrowing when they landed on Tweek. The barbarian stiffened, tremors in his hands he couldn't quite hide.

His stare lingered at Tweek for a moment longer, before snapping his attention back to the rest of the guards as he paced between them.

"We cannot afford screw ups!" His voice sliced through the soldiers' silence. "Every weapon, every potion, every Goddamn crumb mattered, and now they're gone! We're at a disadvantage before the fight's even started! Do I need to drill this into your skulls, or are you all too fucking slow to get it?!"

The stillness that followed was suffocating. Not a soldier dared to breathe.

"Whatever," Cartman muttered, shaking his head. "I should've expected this from you idiots. You can't do a Goddamn thing right. We just need to get there before those pointy eared assholes and win. That's all that matters."

He huffed, waving a dismissive hand at the soldiers.

The army moved out, boots pounding against the dirt in unison. Tweek fell into line, every muscle tense. He replayed the route in his head, every tree, every marker, every turn. Their path to the Stick depended on him. It was all that stood between the army and disaster.

But no matter how hard he focused, the memory of last night pressed in. How he'd hesitated, how Craig had turned away with the supplies, leaving him with nothing but the sting betrayal.

He clenched his fists, jaw tight.

This time, he wouldn't hesitate.

-

By sunset, the army reached the spot they had scouted previously, the last point they could confirm from before.

Cartman swung his staff down into the dirt. "Alright! Without the map that traitorous bastard stole, we don't have a clue where The Stick is. So quit stalling and spread the fuck out!"

Soldiers rushed at the command, breaking into scattered groups, boots snapping twigs as they plunged into the trees. Steel rang and Cartman's orders boomed above it all.

"I want every Goddamn inch of this place searched! If we don't find that Stick, it's your asses on the line!"

Tweek moved with his group, eyes darting at every shadow and flicker of movement. The woods pressed in, too still, too quiet. He curled his fingers tight around his bowstring, waiting...

And then-

A horn split the silence. Low, sharp, echoing.

The soldiers froze.

From the high ground, the elves emerged. A full line of warriors moved in unison, shields locked, weapons drawn, advancing as one, steady and disciplined against Cartman's army of chaos.

At the head of their front, The High Elf King raised his staff, commanding the field. Beside him, his second in command drew his blade, stance burning with fire and resolve.

And just behind them, a figure stood with daggers drawn, gaze cold and steady.

Craig.

He stepped forward into view, calm and unshaken.

Cartman's jaw dropped, fury replacing shock in an instant. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Of course it's those elves and that backstabbing son of a bitch! Stop standing around like pussies and form up, NOW!"

Tweek's heart lurched. His bowstring bit into his skin as his gaze locked with Craig's across the clearing.

For a single breath, the battlefield around them blurred away. No soldiers, no shouting commands, just the heavy weight of that look.

Craig's eyes held his, steady, unreadable. But beneath the calm front, something deep and unguarded flickered.

Yet all Tweek could see was a traitor.

Then the world snapped back to life. Steel clashing, shouts cutting the air, and boots surging as the two armies collided.

Chapter Text

The battlefield was a storm of steel and shouts.

Cartman's army crashed into the elves, weapons clanging, bodies colliding, war cries tearing through the air. But in the middle of it all, two figures moved as if drawn together, pulled by something heavier than the chaos.

Craig and Tweek faced each other, weapons ready.

Around them, the battle carried on, yet it felt like they were the only two in the clearing.

Every move was deliberate, careful, as if neither could bring themselves to actually strike the other.

Tweek loosed an arrow, missing Craig by mere inches. The string still buzzed against his fingertips. His chest thumped painfully. Had he missed on purpose? Was it hesitation? Tweek couldn't tell.

"You've gotten better," Craig said with a smirk, dodging another arrow. His eyes lingered on Tweek a moment longer than necessary, that familiar teasing edge buried under tension.

Tweek's face burned. "Go fuck yourself, backstabber!" he snapped, forcing his hands to stay steady as he pulled back another arrow.

They clashed again, a dangerous dance of blades and arrows. Every attack that would have been lethal against anyone else was held back, softened. They wounded others, but when facing each other, hesitation ruled.

Craig slid aside with ease, voice low. "Careful... don't want to embarrass yourself in front of Cartman while you're only pretending to aim at me."

Tweek's jaw clenched. "I am aiming at you!"

Craig grinned, ducking another arrow. "You're clearly hesitating." His tone was light, almost playful, but heat lingered beneath it.

And Tweek froze at the words.

Cartman's orders burned in his mind like fire.

"Next time, Tweek...you don't hesitate."

Tweek's stance shifted, hands tightening on his bow. He refocused, picking up his motion, arrows loosed faster and deadlier.

Craig noticed immediately.

The tension in Tweek's shoulders, the new precision in his movements. His eyes narrowed, half impressed, half alarmed. "Getting serious, huh?" His dagger flashed to deflect each shot, still teasing despite the racing of his pulse.

"You don't aim to wound."

They danced around each other, their movements like a twisted ballet of steel and wood. With a sharp flick, Craig deflected an arrow with his dagger, tilting his head at Tweek, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he watched the barbarian he loved.

"You aim to end it."

Another of Tweek's arrows whistled a little too dangerously close to Craig's ear.

Craig jerked his head back last second, panic flickering behind his calm gaze. A jolt of heat ran through him at the realization.

Tweek wasn't holding back anymore.

Craig pushed his own attacks faster, still careful, dancing with Tweek rather than against him.

"To finish it."

The next arrow came with blinding speed.

Craig barely deflected it with his dagger, sweat prickling at his temple.

"No mercy."

Tweek's arrow struck hard, knocking Craig's dagger from his grip, sending it skittering across the dirt.

Craig froze, chest rising fast. He was weaponless, exposed. Every heartbeat hammering in his chest as the danger pressed in.

"No second thoughts."

Tweek drew back another arrow with a sharp focus, chest pounding, bowstring biting into his fingers as he held the shot steady.

"You kill him."

The arrow flew

Finding its mark with terrifying accuracy.

Piercing deep.

The force dropping him back a step.

Embedding in Craig's chest.

.

.

.

.

For a split second, Craig didn't feel anything. Just shock. Just the impossible thought that Tweek's arrow, Tweek's, had actually struck him.

Then the pain hit.

Hot, searing. It spread like fire under his ribs, stealing the air from his lungs.

Craig staggered, eyes wide in disbelief, blood seeping through his tunic spreading fast. His hand pressed hard against the wound, but the warmth kept spilling rapidly, sliding hot between his fingers.

"Shit-" The word rasped out of him, low, raw. He didn't even know if anyone heard it.

His knees buckled, strength giving way.

Then he slumped hard onto the ground.

The last thing he saw before his eyes slid shut was Tweek's face,

horrified.

Tweek's breath caught, chest locking tight. His bow trembled violently in his hands.

The battlefield froze.

The bow slipped from his grip, clattering uselessly as he stumbled forward. "...Craig-" His voice cracked, barely a whisper, lost beneath the clash of steel. His hand reached out, helpless, as if that alone could take it back.

"Good shit, Tweek!" Cartman's voice split the air across the battlefield. "That's what I like to see from my best warrior!"

The words slammed into Tweek, breaking whatever air was left in his lungs.

His vision tunneled, chest tightening as panic, guilt, and everything he hadn't said collided at once.

He had hurt him. No, he might have killed him.

The thought tore through him.

Craig, the person he still loved, the person he had trusted more than anything, bleeding out in front of him, breaths shallow, life slipping through his fingers.

"Shit! We need a medic!" Stan's voice cracked with urgency, cutting through the chaos as he shoved soldiers aside, sprinting toward Craig.

Kyle was right behind him, his face pale, his voice hard with command. "Elves! Protect Feldspar! Don't let anyone near him!"

The elven warriors obeyed instantly, shields locking, forming a barrier of steel and bodies around Craig's fallen form.

Cartman's glare burned holes into the scene. At the elves rushing to Craig's side, then at Tweek, standing frozen, horror written across every line of his face.

"Stop fucking hesitating and finish that son of a bitch!!" Cartman's roar spat across the clearing, ugly and furious.

But Tweek didn't move. Couldn't. Tears blurred his vision, his chest heaving as he stared at Craig's faint, ragged breaths. The blood kept spreading, pooling around his body. The battle, the shouting, none of it existed. There was only Craig.

A Kupa Keep warrior grabbed him from behind, rough hands locking onto his arms. "Move!" the soldier hissed, dragging him back before the elves could cut him down in retaliation.

"Pathetic," Cartman spat, rounding on him. "You finally do something right, and now you choke like the twitchy freak you are!"

Tweek flinched, guilt gnawing, throat tight with words he couldn't form. His chest burned with it.

Then-

The yelling stopped.

Because a light, pure, golden, impossibly bright, broke across the field.

Every head turned.

In the distance, glowing with untouchable power,

The Stick of Truth.