[FanFic] Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme (Chapter Two)
Title: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme (Chapter Two)
Status: WIP in collaboration with cacell
Word Count: 2048
Rating: PG-13 (subject to change)
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Drama/Angst
Characters/Pairings: Kurt, Finn, Burt, Carole, Brittany, Karofsky, Rachel, mentions of Quinn, with Fuinn and Finchel (in this chapter); Klaine in future chapters
Summary: Prince Kurt has found himself falling for Blaine, a mere stablehand. Even without their distinct differences in class, love would be difficult enough--yet it is proving itself nearly impossible.
Warnings: AU taking place during the renaissance era.
Notes: Fic is based on period-crossover drawings by cacell. The accompanying illustration for this chapter is here!
Kurt gently flexed his arm, bending and unbending his elbow. He watched himself doing so in the mirror, trying desperately not to show any signs of pain or discomfort. He sighed, still dissatisfied, but resignedly pulled on his dress coat all the same. A little tight over the bandages, but he could make do.
The young prince took a deep breath, forcing himself out of his room and down the stairs. He knew he was expected, and that he had no other choice but to attend.
He tried to remain unnoticed as he arrived, hoping that he could merely show he father that he had attended, but primarily remain invisible, especially to the guest of honor.
The celebration, overall, was rather beautiful. The hall was greatly decorated; Kurt expected it took Mercedes and the others hours to get it all finished. There was cheerful music being played by a few musicians at the far right of the hall, many couples dancing. Along the left side of the hall was a long table, completely covered in treats for the guests, and there were several tables along the opposite wall where other guests were sitting and conversing. For a brief moment, Kurt considered actually making an attempt to enjoy it all-but he was reminded immediately that this could not be a nice occasion when Karofsky would be there, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the commander made his presence known to the prince.
Kurt quickly made his way to the front of the hall, trying his best to remain inconspicuous for as long as possible. Soon enough he reached his royal family, his father and step-mother sitting in their thrones. Finn stood between them, smiling at the boy as he approached.
"There's my son," King Burt said warmly to the boy. "I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't be coming down."
Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Finn did.
"Is your arm better, then?" the other prince asked him, and immediately Kurt glared at the boy.
"What happened to your arm?" Burt immediately inquired, his son still staring angrily at the other boy.
"I fell off Elizabeth, earlier," Kurt said bitterly.
"Oh, love," Carole said sympathetically, placing a hand over her mouth.
"What rubbish!" Burt exclaimed, and Kurt raised his eyebrows at his father. "Son, you haven't fallen off-"
"Why," Kurt demanded immediately, "is everyone convinced that this is so completely impossible? I fell, all right? Can we just move on from this already?"
Both Burt and Carole looked taken aback, Finn appearing rather apologetic himself. Kurt brushed his hair off his forehead, feeling rather unsettled himself. He knew it would be just as easy-if not easier-to blame the stableboy, to let them know of his grave error and let him take the fall for all of it. Really, he had no attachment to the boy, not like Mercedes or some of the other servants and workers he'd grown so fond of over the years. It would be so completely easy, so wasn't he letting it be that way?
"Look, son..." Burt began, resting a protective hand on the boy's shoulder, but Kurt stepped back, shaking his head.
"I'm going to see what Brittany and Lauren have laid out tonight," he said softly. "I haven't properly eaten today."
Carole smiled at the boy with uncertainty. "All right, love."
Kurt strode over to the long table set out, covered in a great variety of food, including a rather delectable-looking array of sweets.
"You should try the lumbolls," said a soft voice beside him, and Kurt nearly jumped.
He turned to the young blond, who was smiling at him. "Did you make them?" he asked her in an amused voice.
She nodded quickly. "After that, Lauren threw me out, though. She asked me to bring the food out here instead, at least until she had more than enough finished."
Kurt smiled at the girl, picking up one of the cookies and taking a bite. He closed his eyes, humming as he savoured the flavour of it.
"Brittany," he sighed, "you never fail me. These are heavenly."
Brittany beamed, taking Kurt's hand in her own. "I'm so glad!" After a moment, however, her face fell when Kurt didn't take another lumboll, or anything else, instead sighing and frowning at the table. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Oh, sweetheart, no," he told her quickly. "I'm just a little distracted."
"What is it?" she asked, concerned.
"Blaine," he said, a little unsure, "the new stablehand.. Have you encountered him, yet?"
Brittany shook her head. "I saw him earlier with Nick and Jeff, but I didn't have the chance to properly meet him."
Kurt opened his mouth again, about to speak. However, he was interrupted by a hand on his injured arm, causing him to noticeably flinch.
"There's no need for you to converse with a mere peasant," the man said coldly, and Kurt's heart sunk at the realisation of who it was. "Get back to your job, you-"
"Stop it, now," Kurt bit out, glaring up at Karofsky, though he didn't seem to notice the small boy's contempt.
"I need to have a word with his highness," Karofsky told Brittany, who was still looking hurt. Kurt attempted to reach out to her, but Karofsky was holding him flush to his side, and the pain in his arm was making it impossible for him to even really think about moving. "Get back to the kitchens, already."
Brittany hung her head, running back through the kitchen doors, shattering Kurt's heart in the process and causing his hatred for the commander to grow.
Karofsky smiled in an awful, crooked way at Kurt now. "Much better," he said.
"You had no right to do that," Kurt said flatly.
"I'm only look out for you," the young man said. "Conversing so freely and comfortably with peasants and commoners... What would everyone think?"
"What do you want?" Kurt asked furiously.
Karofsky took a step back from the prince, bowing low. "May I have this dance, your highness?"
Without waiting for an answer, Karofsky pulled Kurt in close, and they joined the other couple dancing, Kurt reluctantly doing so. He was clutching to Kurt so tightly, and he found himself trying his best to ignore the searing pain in his arm.
"What do you want from me, David?" he asked vehemently.
"I have a proposition, actually," Karofsky said. "As I have been promoted, and you are next in line to be king, I thought that I might be of some aid to you."
"And how is that?"
"Things are said throughout the kingdom," the commander said. "Concerns, if you will, about what kind of person is going to be taking the throne."
Kurt swallowed, feeling his stomach drop. He mentally repeated over and over that no, Karofsky wasn't referring to what he thought he was.
"But we can fix that," he continued. "I'd be happy to... show you around a sword."
Kurt's eyes narrowed at the emphasis Karofsky put on the words, but chose to ignore it. "And what would you be getting out of this?"
He smiled awfully. "Why, I'd be spending more time with the prince, of course."
"Yes, well," Kurt said coldly, "no thank you."
Karofsky raised his eyebrows. "And may I ask why?"
"Because the idea of you helping me is one I'd rather not dwell on," Kurt said.
"You'd rather just turn a blind eye to what everyone says-to your own kingdom?" Karofsky asked. "Maybe not everyone notices it yet, but you think that they won't see it? And then what will they think?"
Kurt glared at him, his jaw set, trying to keep his breathing calm. He wouldn't let him know what he was doing to him, just how much he was getting into his head. Not here, not now.
"I see it," Karofsky went on, curling his lips into an awful half-smile. "I see it all. The fact that you won't go into battle, always in your room with your literature and your music instead, caring more about what you eat and what you wear than most anyone can even fathom. Your oaf of a brother must have told you the implications that are made, when he comes to train without the other crowned prince, that maybe you're a delicate princess in actuality-"
"Stop it right now!" Kurt threatened, his heart pounding in his throat.
"My apologies," Karofsky breathed, his insincerity clear.
And with those words, Kurt turned on his heel, storming out of the hall. Immediately there was a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around. He found himself facing Finn, the boy who knew, who knew what they were saying about him, who told him nothing, who obviously had done nothing-
"Kurt, what-"
"You. Don't you dare touch me!" Kurt snapped, swatting Finn's hand away and continuing out of the grand hall.
Finn frowned watching his step-brother walk off angrily.
A gentle hand touched the prince's arm, and Finn turned. He smiled softly at the girl who stood before him.
"Lady Rachel," he breathed.
"Your highness," she smiled in return, curtseying gracefully. "I do hope I am not overstepping my boundaries in inquiring if everything is quite all right."
Finn hesitated. "I seem to have done something wrong by Kurt," he said. "And I don't have the slightest idea of what."
Rachel looked sympathetically at the boy before her. "Your highness, if I may-"
Finn took her hand, pressing a swift kiss to the back of it. "Please, Rachel, you know the formalities aren't necessary."
The girl's cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. "Finn," she said, smiling broadly. "I just thought that-"
But she cut herself off, glancing over her shoulder to where the young boy was gazing. She caught sight of a beautiful
young woman, her blonde hair in a knot on the base of her neck. She was conversing with one of the knights in the kingdom, her expression caught somewhere between disapproval and amusement.
Finn quickly realised that Rachel had stopped talking, directing his attention back to the young baroness. "My apologies, Rachel, I-"
But Rachel quickly shook her head, busying herself instead with the hem of her sleeve. "Princess Quinn is beautiful, as always," she said softly. "You should go talk to her."
"Rachel..." Finn began, but she shook her head again.
"You should see the way she looks at you in return," she said, forcing a sad smile.
Finn placed a hand on her arm, his eyes pleading. "This is so difficult," he said.
"Then don't let it be," Rachel responded. "You're a prince, and she's a princess. You shouldn't be letting a lowly baroness stand in the way, anyway. I might not be a commoner, but-well, I'm not her, either."
Finn looked at her sadly. He wanted desperately to tell her that she was not standing in the way of anything, that it was all him and his inability to figure out just what it was that he wanted. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was as well, that she didn't need to be like Quinn. Yet he couldn't translate what he wanted to say into words, couldn't even open his mouth properly. Because he was confused and he was hurting the poor girl, he knew, and he couldn't bear it.
"She just..."
"No," Rachel cut in, "I understand the appeal."
Finn wished more than anything he could iterate what he wanted to, but it was proving itself impossible.
"I have to go," she said quickly, still refusing to look at the prince. Instead, she swept herself out of the hall, once again leaving Finn by himself; however, this time he knew exactly what he'd done wrong.
Status: WIP in collaboration with cacell
Word Count: 2048
Rating: PG-13 (subject to change)
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Drama/Angst
Characters/Pairings: Kurt, Finn, Burt, Carole, Brittany, Karofsky, Rachel, mentions of Quinn, with Fuinn and Finchel (in this chapter); Klaine in future chapters
Summary: Prince Kurt has found himself falling for Blaine, a mere stablehand. Even without their distinct differences in class, love would be difficult enough--yet it is proving itself nearly impossible.
Warnings: AU taking place during the renaissance era.
Notes: Fic is based on period-crossover drawings by cacell. The accompanying illustration for this chapter is here!
Kurt gently flexed his arm, bending and unbending his elbow. He watched himself doing so in the mirror, trying desperately not to show any signs of pain or discomfort. He sighed, still dissatisfied, but resignedly pulled on his dress coat all the same. A little tight over the bandages, but he could make do.
The young prince took a deep breath, forcing himself out of his room and down the stairs. He knew he was expected, and that he had no other choice but to attend.
He tried to remain unnoticed as he arrived, hoping that he could merely show he father that he had attended, but primarily remain invisible, especially to the guest of honor.
The celebration, overall, was rather beautiful. The hall was greatly decorated; Kurt expected it took Mercedes and the others hours to get it all finished. There was cheerful music being played by a few musicians at the far right of the hall, many couples dancing. Along the left side of the hall was a long table, completely covered in treats for the guests, and there were several tables along the opposite wall where other guests were sitting and conversing. For a brief moment, Kurt considered actually making an attempt to enjoy it all-but he was reminded immediately that this could not be a nice occasion when Karofsky would be there, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the commander made his presence known to the prince.
Kurt quickly made his way to the front of the hall, trying his best to remain inconspicuous for as long as possible. Soon enough he reached his royal family, his father and step-mother sitting in their thrones. Finn stood between them, smiling at the boy as he approached.
"There's my son," King Burt said warmly to the boy. "I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't be coming down."
Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Finn did.
"Is your arm better, then?" the other prince asked him, and immediately Kurt glared at the boy.
"What happened to your arm?" Burt immediately inquired, his son still staring angrily at the other boy.
"I fell off Elizabeth, earlier," Kurt said bitterly.
"Oh, love," Carole said sympathetically, placing a hand over her mouth.
"What rubbish!" Burt exclaimed, and Kurt raised his eyebrows at his father. "Son, you haven't fallen off-"
"Why," Kurt demanded immediately, "is everyone convinced that this is so completely impossible? I fell, all right? Can we just move on from this already?"
Both Burt and Carole looked taken aback, Finn appearing rather apologetic himself. Kurt brushed his hair off his forehead, feeling rather unsettled himself. He knew it would be just as easy-if not easier-to blame the stableboy, to let them know of his grave error and let him take the fall for all of it. Really, he had no attachment to the boy, not like Mercedes or some of the other servants and workers he'd grown so fond of over the years. It would be so completely easy, so wasn't he letting it be that way?
"Look, son..." Burt began, resting a protective hand on the boy's shoulder, but Kurt stepped back, shaking his head.
"I'm going to see what Brittany and Lauren have laid out tonight," he said softly. "I haven't properly eaten today."
Carole smiled at the boy with uncertainty. "All right, love."
Kurt strode over to the long table set out, covered in a great variety of food, including a rather delectable-looking array of sweets.
"You should try the lumbolls," said a soft voice beside him, and Kurt nearly jumped.
He turned to the young blond, who was smiling at him. "Did you make them?" he asked her in an amused voice.
She nodded quickly. "After that, Lauren threw me out, though. She asked me to bring the food out here instead, at least until she had more than enough finished."
Kurt smiled at the girl, picking up one of the cookies and taking a bite. He closed his eyes, humming as he savoured the flavour of it.
"Brittany," he sighed, "you never fail me. These are heavenly."
Brittany beamed, taking Kurt's hand in her own. "I'm so glad!" After a moment, however, her face fell when Kurt didn't take another lumboll, or anything else, instead sighing and frowning at the table. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Oh, sweetheart, no," he told her quickly. "I'm just a little distracted."
"What is it?" she asked, concerned.
"Blaine," he said, a little unsure, "the new stablehand.. Have you encountered him, yet?"
Brittany shook her head. "I saw him earlier with Nick and Jeff, but I didn't have the chance to properly meet him."
Kurt opened his mouth again, about to speak. However, he was interrupted by a hand on his injured arm, causing him to noticeably flinch.
"There's no need for you to converse with a mere peasant," the man said coldly, and Kurt's heart sunk at the realisation of who it was. "Get back to your job, you-"
"Stop it, now," Kurt bit out, glaring up at Karofsky, though he didn't seem to notice the small boy's contempt.
"I need to have a word with his highness," Karofsky told Brittany, who was still looking hurt. Kurt attempted to reach out to her, but Karofsky was holding him flush to his side, and the pain in his arm was making it impossible for him to even really think about moving. "Get back to the kitchens, already."
Brittany hung her head, running back through the kitchen doors, shattering Kurt's heart in the process and causing his hatred for the commander to grow.
Karofsky smiled in an awful, crooked way at Kurt now. "Much better," he said.
"You had no right to do that," Kurt said flatly.
"I'm only look out for you," the young man said. "Conversing so freely and comfortably with peasants and commoners... What would everyone think?"
"What do you want?" Kurt asked furiously.
Karofsky took a step back from the prince, bowing low. "May I have this dance, your highness?"
Without waiting for an answer, Karofsky pulled Kurt in close, and they joined the other couple dancing, Kurt reluctantly doing so. He was clutching to Kurt so tightly, and he found himself trying his best to ignore the searing pain in his arm.
"What do you want from me, David?" he asked vehemently.
"I have a proposition, actually," Karofsky said. "As I have been promoted, and you are next in line to be king, I thought that I might be of some aid to you."
"And how is that?"
"Things are said throughout the kingdom," the commander said. "Concerns, if you will, about what kind of person is going to be taking the throne."
Kurt swallowed, feeling his stomach drop. He mentally repeated over and over that no, Karofsky wasn't referring to what he thought he was.
"But we can fix that," he continued. "I'd be happy to... show you around a sword."
Kurt's eyes narrowed at the emphasis Karofsky put on the words, but chose to ignore it. "And what would you be getting out of this?"
He smiled awfully. "Why, I'd be spending more time with the prince, of course."
"Yes, well," Kurt said coldly, "no thank you."
Karofsky raised his eyebrows. "And may I ask why?"
"Because the idea of you helping me is one I'd rather not dwell on," Kurt said.
"You'd rather just turn a blind eye to what everyone says-to your own kingdom?" Karofsky asked. "Maybe not everyone notices it yet, but you think that they won't see it? And then what will they think?"
Kurt glared at him, his jaw set, trying to keep his breathing calm. He wouldn't let him know what he was doing to him, just how much he was getting into his head. Not here, not now.
"I see it," Karofsky went on, curling his lips into an awful half-smile. "I see it all. The fact that you won't go into battle, always in your room with your literature and your music instead, caring more about what you eat and what you wear than most anyone can even fathom. Your oaf of a brother must have told you the implications that are made, when he comes to train without the other crowned prince, that maybe you're a delicate princess in actuality-"
"Stop it right now!" Kurt threatened, his heart pounding in his throat.
"My apologies," Karofsky breathed, his insincerity clear.
And with those words, Kurt turned on his heel, storming out of the hall. Immediately there was a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around. He found himself facing Finn, the boy who knew, who knew what they were saying about him, who told him nothing, who obviously had done nothing-
"Kurt, what-"
"You. Don't you dare touch me!" Kurt snapped, swatting Finn's hand away and continuing out of the grand hall.
Finn frowned watching his step-brother walk off angrily.
A gentle hand touched the prince's arm, and Finn turned. He smiled softly at the girl who stood before him.
"Lady Rachel," he breathed.
"Your highness," she smiled in return, curtseying gracefully. "I do hope I am not overstepping my boundaries in inquiring if everything is quite all right."
Finn hesitated. "I seem to have done something wrong by Kurt," he said. "And I don't have the slightest idea of what."
Rachel looked sympathetically at the boy before her. "Your highness, if I may-"
Finn took her hand, pressing a swift kiss to the back of it. "Please, Rachel, you know the formalities aren't necessary."
The girl's cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. "Finn," she said, smiling broadly. "I just thought that-"
But she cut herself off, glancing over her shoulder to where the young boy was gazing. She caught sight of a beautiful
young woman, her blonde hair in a knot on the base of her neck. She was conversing with one of the knights in the kingdom, her expression caught somewhere between disapproval and amusement.
Finn quickly realised that Rachel had stopped talking, directing his attention back to the young baroness. "My apologies, Rachel, I-"
But Rachel quickly shook her head, busying herself instead with the hem of her sleeve. "Princess Quinn is beautiful, as always," she said softly. "You should go talk to her."
"Rachel..." Finn began, but she shook her head again.
"You should see the way she looks at you in return," she said, forcing a sad smile.
Finn placed a hand on her arm, his eyes pleading. "This is so difficult," he said.
"Then don't let it be," Rachel responded. "You're a prince, and she's a princess. You shouldn't be letting a lowly baroness stand in the way, anyway. I might not be a commoner, but-well, I'm not her, either."
Finn looked at her sadly. He wanted desperately to tell her that she was not standing in the way of anything, that it was all him and his inability to figure out just what it was that he wanted. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was as well, that she didn't need to be like Quinn. Yet he couldn't translate what he wanted to say into words, couldn't even open his mouth properly. Because he was confused and he was hurting the poor girl, he knew, and he couldn't bear it.
"She just..."
"No," Rachel cut in, "I understand the appeal."
Finn wished more than anything he could iterate what he wanted to, but it was proving itself impossible.
"I have to go," she said quickly, still refusing to look at the prince. Instead, she swept herself out of the hall, once again leaving Finn by himself; however, this time he knew exactly what he'd done wrong.