Some self-indulgent pick-me-up bit that probably would be confusing if you haven't read one AU of mine, but for now I'm lazy to type out an explanation. Maybe later.
“There you are”, Stanley smiled as the target of his search paused in the midst of clasping on the gloves. “You look nice”.
“Thank you, Your Royal Twin!” And with that James, Stanley's personal knight, bowed. The action made his armour clanking, yet it only added to Stanley's excitement - he enjoyed seeing him in full tournament equipment way too much.
As well as watching his knight winning every competition and being hailed as a victor.
As well as then enjoying witnessing James dropping on his knee and proclaiming how his victory was dedicated to Stanley…
“Have you come to wish me good luck?” James was smiling, just as his eyes were sparkling.
“Maybe”, Stanley approached and continued fitting the gloves on James. “You know, if you dare to lose this time, I will finally choose someone else as my knight.”
“Never”, James whispered, and his smile didn't vanish. “I can't possibly lose when Your Royal Twin watches me”.
“Good”, Stanley smirked and, as if in afterthought, pulled out a handkerchief from his sleeve. “Then keep it as a reminder”.
James immediately took it, gently even despite his armoured hand, then lifted the handkerchief and pressed it to his lips. “Thank you”, he whispered.
Stanley felt all his face heating. Every time he couldn't not feel this elation, this euphoria over the little gesture.
“If you win”, he coughed, “I'll reward you. In private.”
That made James’ eyes sparkle even brighter.
“You probably meant ‘when’”, the knight’s voice left no doubts at who indeed would be a victor today.
“We'll see”, Stanley huffed and turned around to leave. “Make me proud.”
“I will”, James whispered, strong and sure. And as Stanley glanced back before exiting, he saw James still watching him, still pressing the gifted handkerchief to his lips. Right over the Stanley's personal insignia.
Stanley blushed again and finally left, rapidly following the obscured passages between tents to find his way to the main area and a platform built for Stanford and him.
And speaking of Stanford…
Stanley slowed down, noticing a familiar figure standing in shadows and watching over the last preparations for the tournament.
“Shouldn't you be dressing up?” Stanley chuckled, seeing that his twin was in much simpler clothes than usual. Not in the obligatory golds as His Majesty was supposed to be seen in.
“Should be”, Stanford nodded, sounding a bit detached, like he was deep in thinking.
“Everything alright?” Stanley tilted his head as he approached. “You know, if something bothers you, you can always confide in me…”
That did the trick, as Stanford laughed and shook his head, before finally turning to his twin.
“Thank you, Stanley, I really appreciate it.”
Stanley smiled. “Well, you know, that's my duty to listen and stand by you, and also to help if I am able…”
“Indeed”, but now Stanford looked away, his face twisting in all sorts of emotions.
“Stanford?” Now Stanley was seriously worried. “What happened? Do we need to cancel the tournament? Just say the word, and I'll see to it…”
“No need”, Stanford shook his head, before visually gulping and looking straight at Stanley’s eyes. “Pray tell me, are you happy? Not with the tournament, but with your life?”
“Of course!” Stanley didn't need to think. Didn't they reach what they always dreamed? Stanford was crowned, Stanley tried his best to support him, and their kingdom was thriving and there wasn't any threat to actually be of any concern…
“I see”, Stanford smiled, but his eyes still were turned down. “If I may… Did you… do you wish at times to be the one on the throne?”
“What's that?” Stanley laughed. “No way! I'd be just the worst person to land on the throne! And did you forget that such talks would be counted as an act of treason?” He paused, suddenly worried. “You aren't dying or something?”
Stanford snorted to that, quite undignified. “Oh Stanley…” He obviously wanted to add something more, before shaking his head. “Nevermind. Thank you, Stanley.”
“For what?”
“For being the best brother I could ever have”.
Despite the immediate warmth in him as a response, Stanley didn't like it.
“You sure sound as if you are dying indeed. Let's go to the…”
“I'm not dying”, Stanford interrupted him, slightly irritated. “And I think you should go to your place already. They should start soon.”
“So do you”, Stanley kept frowning. “And if it turns out you just lied to me about not dying…”
“...You’ll punch me. I know. Please go already, I'll catch up”, Stanford was back to looking thoughtful.
Stanley still hesitated. “You are hiding something”, he squinted. “What aren't you telling me?”
“Nothing important”, Stanford shook his head and finally smiled again. “I promise you, it's nothing you need to worry about. Now go, please!”
Stanley didn't like it, but maybe it just wasn't the right time. Right, he would just be asking Stanford later, after all tournament duties would be done.
“Don't forget to dress properly”, he said instead, turning away and proceeding with his initial route. Stanford didn't answer, probably already back into his thoughts.
And just after a few more turns and sneaking around, Stanley reached the platform and…
“You're late”, Stanford, dressed in royal gold and proper insignia, turned to him, making the heavy cape rustle on the floor.
“Huh? How did you…?” Stanley squinted back, where he came from. “Did you run here or what?”
“Unlike you, My Royal Twin, I know how to be on time”, Stanford smirked. “But enough about that. I guess you were lifting the spirits of the knight of yours. Will he let anyone even attempt to show their abilities?”
Immediately, Stanley blushed once again, all other thoughts leaving his mind.
“Stop jesting”, he mumbled. “I just wished him good luck”.
“Oh, that's what it's called”, Stanford laughed and nodded at Fiddleford who was now approaching them both. “I think if he wins this time, I can grant him a greater title, so he could properly court you…”
“Stanford!” Stanley shouted, ignoring all the etiquette due to his mortification. “It isn't what you think…!”
“Really?” Fiddleford, who finally joined them, coughed in his fist. “So Your Royal Twin wasn't the one asking the royal seamstress for embroidery lessons?”
“You're all impossible!” Stanley shouted, hiding his burning cheeks with his palms. The other two just kept laughing.
And Stanley didn't have any other choice but to drop down on his own, lesser throne, huffing. At least, soon he would see his knight winning. And it would be worth anything.
…Yeah, despite all the teasing, he sure felt happy. And maybe he shouldn't oppose Stanford if he would really decide to grant some new title to James.
Stanley imagined his knight as the latter would be approaching him during a ball, all dressed up and polished, offering his hand, and this sole thought immediately made his face flame up again.
…Maybe Stanley should beg Stanford to do it as soon as possible.
