EN: ATS, Chapter 18

**A/N:  Stan’s the man, yo…!**

○

Stan paced.

He considered rearranging yet again the layout of his secondary Room for Official Business – he was fairly sure that’s what he was calling it this week – but decided against it. The current design did provide a bit of an obstacle course, which could be construed as a good thing. If the path, such as it was, began feeling too short, he’d simply take the pacing routine out into the hallway.

It was certainly long enough and wouldn’t be the first time.

He glanced down at his annoyingly empty desktop during a pass.

With the current situation hampering normal evening and business practices, he’d suddenly found himself caught up on All Important Matters of State, Court, Palace Management, and Transportation….and by “Transportation” he meant that he had snuck down last evening and changed the oil on every single vehicle in the motor pool.

All this “attending to business” bullshit was for the pterodactyls.  At least when he worked with his hands he could see proof of accomplishment.

If this had been a chapter in his life, he’d have titled it, “Boredom Is Deadly – Let’s Get This War Started All-Fucking-Ready.”

At least Court had been less dreadful for once. Excepting The Royal Family and the heavily-glamoured human maids, no one was allowed in or out of the official residence, therefore opposing sides couldn’t take up nights upon nights with endless bickering, sniveling, and grandstanding. Court, such as it was currently, was necessarily limited those “in house”, which basically consisted of…himself. This way he could read over the few files, ask pertinent questions over Skype if needed, disconnect if someone proved too mouthy, and render his incontrovertible verdict.

Wham, bam, it’s legal, ma’am..

Well, it was if he had to enact a law or three to make his verdicts legal.

Some nights it was good to be king…

He strongly considered making these current methods permanent.

But now even the lagging vampire legal calendar was cleared…for months.

After tending to every bit of business he could possibly think of and after sharpening all that could possibly be sharpened and then reaching a few dead ends in certain areas of his more incendiary research, he had even managed to preplan quite a few absolutely unnecessary events!

To date, he had scheduled and outlined two pointless conferences, an equally pointless summit – he saw no true difference between the two as all such gatherings were inherently political and gossipy but from what Brother-Dearest said, vampires did love their pomp and pageantry – and a slightly more anticipated woodcarving expo.

Sadly, Godric wouldn’t let him host any further Brotherhood Of Majestic Bombardment Specifics – BOMBS for short – meetings within the same area code. Such gatherings, he’d said with extreme patience and, to Stan’s ear, prejudice, tended to be a bit more…explosive than the insurers thought prudent.

Stupid insurance companies and their stupid rules.

What finally drove him to change the oil in the Royal Motor Pool was when he found himself planning parts of a ball – masquerade, naturally – he was certain The Royal Niece would demand be thrown the instant Those Annoying Fairies finally departed this  realm – Sookie not included, of course.

Ah, Sookie…

Strange addictions notwithstanding, said Royal Niece did get along surprisingly well with the other-realmer.  Well, she did considering what little they saw of each other in recent nights, that is.

Trust said Brother-Dearest to score an honest-to-Odin Fairy Princess. Also trust said Brother-Dearest to piss off said honest-to-Odin Fairy Princess. For the very best of reasons Eric had tried to keep news of the strategic and informative meeting from Sookie’s tender ears…and had promptly failed.

Stan had to hand it to Eric, though – when he failed, he failed spectacularly. He’d warned the older vampire against even attempting the exclusion – the lady in question was the lady relevant to the discussion, after all – but Mr. Know-It-All hadn’t listened. At the time, the deadly glare leveled at him by said lady in said question had not boded well for future…relations.

At the time.

Judging by the sounds, scents, and sights he’d had the misfortune of stumbling upon during the past week, the hands-off rule suggested by said glare had more than fallen by the wayside.

It was left four states back and counting.

He hoped they enjoyed the case of condom-shaped balloons he’d unearthed from storage the other night just for the occasion.

And the Cock-a-Mints he didn’t dare ask Pam about.

Eric couldn’t eat them, and he honestly did not want to know what all Sookie might be putting in her mouth. According to the smirk that seemed permanently attached to his Brother’s face and how rarely said face was around these nights, the lady once again in question appeared to be quite talented.

Ah, young love…

His thoughts automatically turned to the fair Gelsey. Lean, lithe, and lovely, he knew beyond any doubt that if he desired a certain intimacy with the beautiful but rather inefficient female guard, well, there were at least four more cases of the condom-shaped balloons in storage, but…

Nah, I’ll pass. I prefer human women…much warmer on the interior…fairy women might be as well, but someone needs to keep their head out of other people’s crotches while there’s a crisis afoot. Besides, according to what I smelled the other night Niall is keeping her lubed just fine. Maybe I should have him take a look at the axle on…

He stopped abruptly and banged his head against the wall.

Damn it, he wanted his kingdom back.

The fairy contingent wasn’t the problem. His guests actually were not comparable to fish and in fact continued smelling quite nicely to this night, but he was heartily sick of being on lockdown.

Taking precautions was currently mandatory and he was not by nature a precautionary vampire! That’s exactly how and why he ended up King of the Fine State of Texas, after all.

Caution was not his middle name. He had three to choose from, and really, “Caution” wasn’t one of them.

He’d checked.

No one was willing to risk Sookie’s safety, though.  No one, no way, no how.  The mere thought of what Breandon had planned for the poor girl was enough to drop his fangs.

He checked the clock on the wall, then the one on his desk, then finally his phone.

Hopefully Godric would be coming up for non-Claudine-scented air soon – plans really did need to be made.

It wasn’t as though he and Pam alone could solve the Fairy Asshole and his Band of Bloody Bastards problem.

Or could they…

Pam was easily bored at the best of times, but now? Just three days ago she’d somehow managed to cause an easily contained twerking outbreak amongst the remaining donors and staff on the premises.  It was quite the sight, he had to admit.

Come to find out, the act of twerking did not, in all actuality, enable maids to vacuum more proficiently.

Who would have thought…well, Pam obviously…

Thankfully Eric had come up for some un-Sookie-scented air moments before dawn and had recognized the issue for what it was – Pam was bored. He’d given her two credit cards – ones that she didn’t have the numbers to memorized yet – and set her loose on Amazon’s fine stores. He really did spoil the Niecelette too much.

Perhaps he should inform The Royal Niece that all packages were currently being delivered to a warehouse in Modesto.

Nah, let the brat wonder where her bacon-shaped earrings, Clapper lamps, and adult curse-word coloring books were going. Serve her right.

Surely he and Pam could come up with something, anything… Niall was becoming restless, too. The old Prince of course retained access to the open rooftop and could visit his home realm as he chose, and every day he would check in for news, gossip, and, for all Stan knew, hair and recipe tips.

The old goat did have suspiciously good hair…

Thus far the news he did relate “from the home realm” remained nebulous at best. Yes, Breandon seemed to be gathering his troops but no, he wasn’t actively marshaling them yet…as far as anyone knew.

Maybe they’re “camping out” and toasting gooey cracker things on sticks or something.

He hoped they forgot their bug spray and whatever it was eaters used to clean their hindquarters now.

Another pace around the room proved that nothing had changed within the last four seconds.

The informant, possibly nameless as far as he could tell, hadn’t contacted them again but the Dae-boy hadn’t seemed overly burdened with valor, so it was questionable whether or not he would. Considering how un-stiff the boy’s upper lip had been, they were lucky to have gotten what they had from him.

From what Godric had mentioned during one of their recent discussions – amusingly rare now as they only occurred between bouts of Claudine – the boy’s eldest half-brother was of some prominence in the Dae community and was something of an agitator – “peace isn’t profitable” apparently being one of his favorite expressions.

Stan couldn’t fault the repulsive beast’s foul logic, infuriating as it was.

Something niggled at the back of his mind but didn’t take hold.

In frustration he shoved a hand through his hair and was completely unaware of how his ash-blond locks automatically fell back into place.

Knowing how his mind worked, he knew the elusive thought would most likely decide to land if his attentions were occupied elsewhere.

He’d had an idea about an iron-aerosol application the other night that he’d wanted to investigate but would have had to have passed by a moving blob known as Erookie…or had he decided upon Soorik…to make it to the stairwell. By the time he had turned back and neared his quarters – there was a separate stairwell on down the hall – he’d already changed his mind and opted for mocking an episode of “The Bachelor – How Low Will You Go To Beg This Twunt To Marry You” with Pam instead.

As he descended toward his secondary lab, Stan spared a moment of what might in some realm be considered a mangled, bland form of what might pass in some circles as pity for the moping lump on a log formerly known as Preston. He was as comfy as possible in his cell-turned-well, yeah, it was still a cell, but the bed, chairs, and other generic room trappings were of good quality and comfort.

All communication, self-immolation, and offensive/defensive devices had been removed, of course, as had all but the most basic of cable hook-ups, but the traitorous drop of used testicle malfunction had warm food delivered three times a day.

Really, the dead-spark’d little jacktard couldn’t ask for more given what he’d planned for his own cousin.

Fucking fairy. At least he still had his life. Had it been up to me, I would have offered his head to Sookie on a gold platter. He would have been garnished with radishes and celery with a fine dusting of pepper. Unless he turned to fairy dust. Hmm…I wonder in what way fairy dust would affect ferrous oxide… Wonder if Niall would let me have Preston’s fingers? Maybe some toes, too? He won’t be needing them, after all…and they would come in extremely handy… It’s possible the dust might…

Lost in the possibilities of creating an iron-based aerosol spray somehow lightened with fairy dust, Stan thankfully missed at least three pairs of lovers making the most of their night.

Niall, it seemed, enjoyed having his person personally…guarded.

○

○

○

**A/N: So…yeah, Stan’s the man, eh?  He’s so much fun!  What did y’all think?**

○

○

○

   .

 ○

○

○

○