[FanFic] Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme (Chapter Three)
Title: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme (Chapter Three)
Status: WIP in collaboration with cacell
Word Count: 2000
Rating: PG-13 (subject to change)
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Drama/Angst
Characters/Pairings: Quinn, Finn, Kurt, Blaine, Nick, Puck, and Santana, with Fuinn and Pucktana (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!
"You and Lady Rachel seemed to be speaking rather intently."
Finn turned, finding himself face-to-face with the blond princess. He smiled lopsidedly. "I might say the same about you and Puck."
She laughed. "He's completely uncivilized," she said haughtily.
"You still seemed rather interested," Finn said a little uncomfortably.
Quinn shook her head. "If you must know, we were talking about Commander Karofsky's promotion," she said. "He's under the impression that he isn't as deserving as some appear to think."
"He's not the only one," Finn murmured. "Whatever my stepfather was thinking-no disrespect to him, of course, but Karofsky is so ruthless."
"So I heard from Puck." Quinn allowed herself a small smile. "But can you honestly tell me that you would rather be speaking about Puck and Karofsky, right now?" she asked. "I was under the impression that perhaps you and I could spend our time together tonight in other ways."
The boy's crooked grin returned to his face. "May I have this dance, then?" he asked her, holding out his hand.
She laughed, taking his hand and smiling beautifully at him. "But of course, your highness."
***
Kurt closed his eyes tightly, hiding his face in Elizabeth's neck, holding her close to him. He tried to steady his breathing. He wished his mother there with him, she was always one of his greatest protectors...
He wished more than anything that he could dismiss the comments Karofsky made. He wished he could write them off, but instead Karofsky had managed to crawl under his skin and settle there, in the most unwelcome way. He was there, and he was torturing him, and it killed Kurt.
And he knew, he knew Karofsky was right, because he'd never say a word to his father. He couldn't stand the idea that he might only disappoint him.
Kurt heard the sound of footsteps and he turned, watching as the new stableboy rounded the corner, a rake in his hand, resting over his shoulder. He hesitated.
"I'm sorry for intruding, your highness," he said softly, inclining his head and setting the rake back against the wall. Kurt said nothing in response, turning his attention back to Elizabeth.
"I... I also beg your forgiveness for what happened earlier today, sire," Blaine went on, now approaching the young prince.
Kurt shook his head. "It's fine," he said quietly. "I was more concerned about Elizabeth. My mother promised me her, just after she was born. If she hadn't been found..." He trailed off.
"Her majesty was very kind for giving me work," Blaine told him.
"She's not my mother," Kurt said quickly, still focusing on Elizabeth, rubbing his hand over her muzzle. "My mother fell ill shortly after Elizabeth was born. When she became mine, I gave her my mother's name. I... she's all I have left of her."
"I'm very sorry," Blaine said, under his breath. He was beside Kurt, now, looking at the prince sadly.
Kurt laughed somberly. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this," he muttered, glancing at the stablehand. He straightened up, now facing Blaine, who was still quiet, though his hand was also resting on Elizabeth's neck.
"You've never really worked with horses, have you?" Kurt asked a little suddenly, and Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but the other boy merely smiled in a very subdued sort of way. "They like to swell their stomachs when they're being prepared to ride, to make sure the saddle isn't uncomfortably tight on them. That often makes the saddle horribly loose, though, and-well, you saw what happens. I would have hoped one of the other stablehands might have mentioned it, but obviously not."
Blaine nodded; then, he felt the brush of warm fingers against his own, his heart stopping. Kurt froze, his hand still on Elizabeth, but staring at the other boy.
"I'm expected back," he breathed, withdrawing his hand as though it had been burned. He quickly walked past the other boy, who watched after him.
Kurt hesitated at the entrance to the stable, then turned back to face Blaine once more. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Blaine," he said smoothly, having regained his composure at long last. "There are reasons some of our workers stay here much longer than others. Those that I've become fond of... I'll defend them to my father at just about any cost, no matter their mistake. But I have yet to find any reason to defend you, and my father is rarely so forgiving as my stepbrother and myself." He turned, leaving the young stableboy by himself.
Blaine rested his arm against the wall, breathing slowly as the prince left, a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. He pressed his forehead against his arm, unable to shake the feeling he'd been left with.
"What the hell-?"
Blaine's head snapped up, finding himself staring at Nick. The other stablehand frowned deeply at Blaine, setting a muck-filled bucket down on the stable floor.
"Do you not understand your job?" he asked.
Blaine raised his eyebrows. "What-?"
Nick placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "I don't mean for you to take any of this wrong," he told the shorter boy. "I think you're a very kind, intelligent fellow, but I'm afraid you don't understand something, Blaine."
Blaine swallowed hard. "And what would that be?" he asked hesitantly.
"We're stablehands," he said. "We're commoners."
"I understand that," Blaine mumbled. He passed Nick, grabbing a brush before letting himself into Elizabeth's stall; he busied himself with smoothing out the horse's mane, refusing to look at the boy reprimanding him.
"I don't think you do," Nick went on, leaning against the frame of the stall, his arms crossed against his chest. "Or do you not understand that he is a prince? Can you not see just how beneath him we are? Beside him, we're nothing."
"I didn't do anything inappropriate," Blaine said shortly, feeling his cheeks grow warm, his throat becoming unbearably tight. He repeated the sentence in his head a few times, as though trying to convince himself of the fact. Really-he'd done nothing wrong. Nick was just overreacting.
Nick shook his head. "Blaine, I'm saying this because I rather like you and would like to see you stay here. But if you want any hope of doing that, there is no way that you can look at the prince... like that."
Blaine stopped, the brush in his hand hovering just above Elizabeth, but he still would not look at Nick, staring intently at the horse in front of him.
"Please be careful," Nick said, and when Blaine finally looked up, he was gone. He released a breath he hadn't even noticed he had been holding. He threw the brush to the ground, settling himself on a bale of hay and hiding his face in his hands.
He cursed himself mentally. How could he let himself fall into this position? He had to put a stop to it immediately. If he could.
***
Puck slowly trudged to his quarters, feeling his body ache after spending the day practicing with the other knights. Certainly the celebration for the commander had been a nice respite, albeit a very short one. All the same, he was so ready to just undress, clean off, and get to sleep. And then tomorrow, he'd wake up and he would do it all over again.
He pressed open the door to his small room, sighing as he threw his gloves onto his nightstand, kicking off his boots.
He heard a small movement from the other side of his room and he froze, wishing his eyes would adjust more quickly to the dark. However, as he stared intently in the direction where the noise came from, a figure suddenly stepped forward just enough so that her face was bathed in the moonlight.
"Dear god," he breathed. "Santana, were you trying to scare me to death?"
The girl before him smiled slyly, her arms folded across her chest. "Oh no," she said smoothly. "If you were to die, that would certainly be a pity."
Puck rolled his eyes. "Do you mind? I'd like to get undressed."
Again the girl smirked at him. "You've never been shy before," she said silkily, but it only earned another glare.
"Would you just get out?" he asked.
"So rude," she told him coolly.
"What is it that you want, Santana?" he asked, his frustration growing.
"I saw you," she said bluntly. "Talking to that stupid princess at the party."
"Quinn?"
"Yes," she said, pursing her lips as though she'd bitten a lemon, "Quinn."
"And?" he asked her, raising his eyebrows.
"And?" she asked him coldly. "You think you can just come in and sweep precious little Quinn off her feet? You think that you can make her fall in love with you and you can run away? Is that when you get to live happily for the rest of your life? Because I'll be honest with you, Puck, that's not what happens."
She stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. "Do you want to know what really happens? What you get in the end, and myself as well?" she went on. "You and I both live here for the rest of our lives, you as a knight, me as a maid. And one day you'll go out to battle and you'll never return, and I'll probably fall ill and waste away because I'll never have the gold to properly take care of myself. But then again, neither will you. And maybe that's not exactly how it falls into place, but whatever it is that kills us, one thing is certain, and that's the fact that you and I are both going to die alone."
Puck stared uneasily at her, and she shook her head, dropping her arms to her sides. "We don't get the same endings as the boys and girls in the stories our mothers told as when we tried to fall asleep. You and I die young and unhappy and alone, because of the kind of people we are."
"I get it," Puck shot at her. "We're not good people. Maybe we're not bad, but certainly not good. Because what we did before? How we constantly made our living? We cheated and we stole and we lied-"
"Lie," she corrected. "We're never going to be able to stop lying."
"You don't understand it," he said. "That's not who I am anymore, Santana. I'm not a conman anymore, I'm a knight. And you-you're a maid. This is us now. We were lucky enough that we were able to escape-we escaped your imprisonment, and my death. And I'm sorry if now I'm lucky enough to have a slightly better status as 'knight', and you're a servant. It's just how things worked themselves."
Santana shook her head. "No, you're the one who doesn't understand," she told him. "We were in this together, from the very beginning. You don't just get to come here now, after all that we went through, after all that I gave up and let go. You can't just forget everything, forget me-"
"Why not?" he shouted. He knew he shouldn't knew that losing his temper only led to bad things with Santana, but he'd finally had enough.
Her eyes narrowed. "I know the truth, Puck, and I'm not afraid of telling that god damn perfect princess just who you really are," she said. "You're not going to get your stupid happy ending because I'm sure as hell not going to let you."
Status: WIP in collaboration with cacell
Word Count: 2000
Rating: PG-13 (subject to change)
Genre: Romance/Adventure/Drama/Angst
Characters/Pairings: Quinn, Finn, Kurt, Blaine, Nick, Puck, and Santana, with Fuinn and Pucktana (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!
"You and Lady Rachel seemed to be speaking rather intently."
Finn turned, finding himself face-to-face with the blond princess. He smiled lopsidedly. "I might say the same about you and Puck."
She laughed. "He's completely uncivilized," she said haughtily.
"You still seemed rather interested," Finn said a little uncomfortably.
Quinn shook her head. "If you must know, we were talking about Commander Karofsky's promotion," she said. "He's under the impression that he isn't as deserving as some appear to think."
"He's not the only one," Finn murmured. "Whatever my stepfather was thinking-no disrespect to him, of course, but Karofsky is so ruthless."
"So I heard from Puck." Quinn allowed herself a small smile. "But can you honestly tell me that you would rather be speaking about Puck and Karofsky, right now?" she asked. "I was under the impression that perhaps you and I could spend our time together tonight in other ways."
The boy's crooked grin returned to his face. "May I have this dance, then?" he asked her, holding out his hand.
She laughed, taking his hand and smiling beautifully at him. "But of course, your highness."
***
Kurt closed his eyes tightly, hiding his face in Elizabeth's neck, holding her close to him. He tried to steady his breathing. He wished his mother there with him, she was always one of his greatest protectors...
He wished more than anything that he could dismiss the comments Karofsky made. He wished he could write them off, but instead Karofsky had managed to crawl under his skin and settle there, in the most unwelcome way. He was there, and he was torturing him, and it killed Kurt.
And he knew, he knew Karofsky was right, because he'd never say a word to his father. He couldn't stand the idea that he might only disappoint him.
Kurt heard the sound of footsteps and he turned, watching as the new stableboy rounded the corner, a rake in his hand, resting over his shoulder. He hesitated.
"I'm sorry for intruding, your highness," he said softly, inclining his head and setting the rake back against the wall. Kurt said nothing in response, turning his attention back to Elizabeth.
"I... I also beg your forgiveness for what happened earlier today, sire," Blaine went on, now approaching the young prince.
Kurt shook his head. "It's fine," he said quietly. "I was more concerned about Elizabeth. My mother promised me her, just after she was born. If she hadn't been found..." He trailed off.
"Her majesty was very kind for giving me work," Blaine told him.
"She's not my mother," Kurt said quickly, still focusing on Elizabeth, rubbing his hand over her muzzle. "My mother fell ill shortly after Elizabeth was born. When she became mine, I gave her my mother's name. I... she's all I have left of her."
"I'm very sorry," Blaine said, under his breath. He was beside Kurt, now, looking at the prince sadly.
Kurt laughed somberly. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this," he muttered, glancing at the stablehand. He straightened up, now facing Blaine, who was still quiet, though his hand was also resting on Elizabeth's neck.
"You've never really worked with horses, have you?" Kurt asked a little suddenly, and Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but the other boy merely smiled in a very subdued sort of way. "They like to swell their stomachs when they're being prepared to ride, to make sure the saddle isn't uncomfortably tight on them. That often makes the saddle horribly loose, though, and-well, you saw what happens. I would have hoped one of the other stablehands might have mentioned it, but obviously not."
Blaine nodded; then, he felt the brush of warm fingers against his own, his heart stopping. Kurt froze, his hand still on Elizabeth, but staring at the other boy.
"I'm expected back," he breathed, withdrawing his hand as though it had been burned. He quickly walked past the other boy, who watched after him.
Kurt hesitated at the entrance to the stable, then turned back to face Blaine once more. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Blaine," he said smoothly, having regained his composure at long last. "There are reasons some of our workers stay here much longer than others. Those that I've become fond of... I'll defend them to my father at just about any cost, no matter their mistake. But I have yet to find any reason to defend you, and my father is rarely so forgiving as my stepbrother and myself." He turned, leaving the young stableboy by himself.
Blaine rested his arm against the wall, breathing slowly as the prince left, a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. He pressed his forehead against his arm, unable to shake the feeling he'd been left with.
"What the hell-?"
Blaine's head snapped up, finding himself staring at Nick. The other stablehand frowned deeply at Blaine, setting a muck-filled bucket down on the stable floor.
"Do you not understand your job?" he asked.
Blaine raised his eyebrows. "What-?"
Nick placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "I don't mean for you to take any of this wrong," he told the shorter boy. "I think you're a very kind, intelligent fellow, but I'm afraid you don't understand something, Blaine."
Blaine swallowed hard. "And what would that be?" he asked hesitantly.
"We're stablehands," he said. "We're commoners."
"I understand that," Blaine mumbled. He passed Nick, grabbing a brush before letting himself into Elizabeth's stall; he busied himself with smoothing out the horse's mane, refusing to look at the boy reprimanding him.
"I don't think you do," Nick went on, leaning against the frame of the stall, his arms crossed against his chest. "Or do you not understand that he is a prince? Can you not see just how beneath him we are? Beside him, we're nothing."
"I didn't do anything inappropriate," Blaine said shortly, feeling his cheeks grow warm, his throat becoming unbearably tight. He repeated the sentence in his head a few times, as though trying to convince himself of the fact. Really-he'd done nothing wrong. Nick was just overreacting.
Nick shook his head. "Blaine, I'm saying this because I rather like you and would like to see you stay here. But if you want any hope of doing that, there is no way that you can look at the prince... like that."
Blaine stopped, the brush in his hand hovering just above Elizabeth, but he still would not look at Nick, staring intently at the horse in front of him.
"Please be careful," Nick said, and when Blaine finally looked up, he was gone. He released a breath he hadn't even noticed he had been holding. He threw the brush to the ground, settling himself on a bale of hay and hiding his face in his hands.
He cursed himself mentally. How could he let himself fall into this position? He had to put a stop to it immediately. If he could.
***
Puck slowly trudged to his quarters, feeling his body ache after spending the day practicing with the other knights. Certainly the celebration for the commander had been a nice respite, albeit a very short one. All the same, he was so ready to just undress, clean off, and get to sleep. And then tomorrow, he'd wake up and he would do it all over again.
He pressed open the door to his small room, sighing as he threw his gloves onto his nightstand, kicking off his boots.
He heard a small movement from the other side of his room and he froze, wishing his eyes would adjust more quickly to the dark. However, as he stared intently in the direction where the noise came from, a figure suddenly stepped forward just enough so that her face was bathed in the moonlight.
"Dear god," he breathed. "Santana, were you trying to scare me to death?"
The girl before him smiled slyly, her arms folded across her chest. "Oh no," she said smoothly. "If you were to die, that would certainly be a pity."
Puck rolled his eyes. "Do you mind? I'd like to get undressed."
Again the girl smirked at him. "You've never been shy before," she said silkily, but it only earned another glare.
"Would you just get out?" he asked.
"So rude," she told him coolly.
"What is it that you want, Santana?" he asked, his frustration growing.
"I saw you," she said bluntly. "Talking to that stupid princess at the party."
"Quinn?"
"Yes," she said, pursing her lips as though she'd bitten a lemon, "Quinn."
"And?" he asked her, raising his eyebrows.
"And?" she asked him coldly. "You think you can just come in and sweep precious little Quinn off her feet? You think that you can make her fall in love with you and you can run away? Is that when you get to live happily for the rest of your life? Because I'll be honest with you, Puck, that's not what happens."
She stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. "Do you want to know what really happens? What you get in the end, and myself as well?" she went on. "You and I both live here for the rest of our lives, you as a knight, me as a maid. And one day you'll go out to battle and you'll never return, and I'll probably fall ill and waste away because I'll never have the gold to properly take care of myself. But then again, neither will you. And maybe that's not exactly how it falls into place, but whatever it is that kills us, one thing is certain, and that's the fact that you and I are both going to die alone."
Puck stared uneasily at her, and she shook her head, dropping her arms to her sides. "We don't get the same endings as the boys and girls in the stories our mothers told as when we tried to fall asleep. You and I die young and unhappy and alone, because of the kind of people we are."
"I get it," Puck shot at her. "We're not good people. Maybe we're not bad, but certainly not good. Because what we did before? How we constantly made our living? We cheated and we stole and we lied-"
"Lie," she corrected. "We're never going to be able to stop lying."
"You don't understand it," he said. "That's not who I am anymore, Santana. I'm not a conman anymore, I'm a knight. And you-you're a maid. This is us now. We were lucky enough that we were able to escape-we escaped your imprisonment, and my death. And I'm sorry if now I'm lucky enough to have a slightly better status as 'knight', and you're a servant. It's just how things worked themselves."
Santana shook her head. "No, you're the one who doesn't understand," she told him. "We were in this together, from the very beginning. You don't just get to come here now, after all that we went through, after all that I gave up and let go. You can't just forget everything, forget me-"
"Why not?" he shouted. He knew he shouldn't knew that losing his temper only led to bad things with Santana, but he'd finally had enough.
Her eyes narrowed. "I know the truth, Puck, and I'm not afraid of telling that god damn perfect princess just who you really are," she said. "You're not going to get your stupid happy ending because I'm sure as hell not going to let you."