fanfic: Lost and Found (3)
Author: Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)
Description: In the land of McKinley a beautiful prince lies hidden, waiting for his true love to kiss him back into the world. Lord Dave Karofsky is determined to do just that.
Pairing(s): Kurt/Blaine, one sided Dave/Kurt, very vague reference to Azimio/OFC (Kelby)
Warnings: The most raw writing you'll ever see because I couldn't find my friend to beta it for me :D
Rating: PG
Word Count: 7,728
Author’s Note: Written for The Kurt_Blaine Hiatus Gift Exchange, hope you like it mothergoddamn ! :D
Disclaimer: I don’t own Glee, but if I did I'd just let it die after the characters graduate rather than drag it on with second rate plots and new uninspiring characters *glares at Murphy*
Legere Castle bustled with activity as message was sent of the impending arrival of Lord Karofsky and his retinue. Servants hurried to light the torches and candles in their iron sconces, and spread fresh reeds along the floor so the air was infused with their fresh scent. The laundry maids beat the wet linens frantically, so they could be whisked away by the chamber maids to neatly dress the beds. The fireplace in Lord Karofsky’s chambers was lit to a roaring blaze, warming the chilled room. In the lower levels of the castle, the kitchen staff dashed to and fro, preparing a feast of venison and goose and beef and lamb, drenched in thick gravies made from the meat juices, with potatoes as large as boulders.
Sequestered away from the chaos of the preparations, the serving boy Blaine tidied a guest chamber, beating the dust out of the drapes and tapestries and straightening the rugs, ready for the arrival of Prince Kurt. Blaine had heard hushed murmurs that the Prince was as beautiful as any maiden, more so in fact, and he eagerly anticipated his coming. As a wee boy, clutching at his mother’s skirts, he’d heard tales of the Prince, particularly his singing voice, clear as a still spring lake. He glanced nervously at his lute, perched in the corner. It wasn’t his place to impress the Prince, a servant had no right, but his excitement was too immense to deny.
He startled as the door swung forwards, smacking against the wall loudly, to announce the arrival of Lord Karofsky, Sir Azimio, and held between them… Prince Kurt.
The stories had greatly underplayed his beauty. His skin, pale as sweet cream, was specked with freckles that flickered in and out of sight with the candle light. His lips were pink and soft, turned up slightly at the corners even in sleep. His eyelashes, long and dark, fanned starkly against his pale cheeks, masking eyes that Blaine was certain would be just as stunning. His limp body was laid upon the maroon quilt that Blaine had spread across the bed, hands placed gently on his flat stomach.
‘You,’ Lord Karofsky snapped at Blaine, ‘Prince Kurt is in your care until further notice. Your other duties are meaningless now. Understood?’ Blaine nodded hurriedly, carefully avoiding his Lord’s gaze. As Lord Karofsky and Sir Azimio were obscured by the door, Blaine heaved a sigh of relief. He frowned uncertainly at Prince Kurt; shouldn't he be awake?
Blaine busied himself for a while, neatening candlesticks and goblets that he’d already tidied earlier. When he’d completed every task twice, he perched on a straight backed wooden chair, taking his lute in hand so he could strum at it idly. He plucked out a lilting romantic tune, and watched his fingers skitter across the strings so his eyes couldn't stray to the Prince.
Blaine strummed at the lute until his fingers were sore and red, and an hour mark had passed by on the lit candle. Still Prince Kurt slept. Now Blaine was very perplexed, surely after years of trapped slumber the Prince would be bright-eyed and eager to investigate his new home. He deposited the lute on the ground by his feet, and carefully picked his way over to the bed. Hesitantly, he settled on the very edge of the bed, absently resting his hand adjacent to Prince Kurt’s.
For a moment he simply gazed at the Prince’s serene face, but inevitably he felt himself leaning close, eyes flickering uneasily to the door. Sliding his tongue swiftly over his chapped lips, Blaine pressed his mouth to Kurt’s. At first the Prince’s lips were pliant but unmoving, but, as Blaine motioned to pull away, Kurt’s lips pressed more hungrily to his. In a brief glimpse of ecstasy, their lips smoothed against each other, hands tangling gently through silky brown and uncontrolled black locks.
The kiss ended, and Blaine rested his forehead against Kurt’s. Their breaths mingled, warm and moist between their cheeks so tiny pinprick dewdrops appeared on Kurt’s lashes, which flickered open. The sight of soulful eyes tripped Blaine’s heart, but it quickly picked up at double pace as a blissful smile spread across Kurt’s lips.
‘Hi…’ Kurt sighed, a pink flush staining his cheeks. Blaine couldn’t resist pressing a peck to the pink splotch.
‘Hey,’ He whispered back. Silence pervaded the room for a moment, but comfortable, surprisingly so for two strangers, and Blaine took the chance to slide his hand across the linen bedspread and tangle his fingers with Kurt’s own slim fingers. Kurt squeezed back sweetly, and finally pushed himself up onto his elbows to see Blaine properly. At the sight of a threadbare tunic and plain brown breeches with tattered hems, he wrinkled his brow.
‘Did you disguise yourself?’ Kurt inquired, raising one delicate brow. Blaine frowned and shook his head, his mass of tangled curls cascading across his forehead.
‘No, no, why would I disguise myself?’
‘Well, I’m sure I don’t know why, but I certainly didn’t expect to be woken by a nobleman in peasant garb.’ Even as the words left Kurt’s mouth, Blaine could feel his face crumple dejectedly, brow creasing and eyes casting down to their joined hands. He tugged his hand gently from Kurt’s grasp. The prince frowned at this sudden change in the atmosphere, and carded a hand through his saviour’s black curls, but Kurt could feel the tension that radiated from him.
‘My name is Blaine, and I’m a servant of this castle.’
Instantly a stony mask froze upon Kurt’s countenance. A tightness pinched the corners of his mouth, and his hand became rigid where it was knotted into Blaine’s hair, and he was quick to remove it entirely. The air in the room turned heavy and thick enough to choke on as long seconds dragged past silently.
‘I see.’ Kurt finally murmured, more to himself than Blaine, ‘Then I thank you for waking me, but you must leave and not speak of this to anyone. It simply mustn’t be-’
‘But I thought only your true loves kiss would wake you! If I’m your true love then we can’t merely-’
‘No,’ Kurt declared firmly, holding a hand up, ‘You must go. Send your master here, and I will ensure that you are rewarded for your compliance.’ As though a long fracture had split across his rose-tinted glasses, Blaine saw a still beautiful boy with angelic features and expressive eyes, but with a solid core of ice. Sharply, Blaine nodded, and stood from the edge of the bed.
‘Of course, sire.’ Briskly, Blaine strode from the room and shut the door with a resounding thud behind him. He lingered for a moment outside the door, wondering if Lord Karofsky would punish him for leaving his charge, but heedlessly he hurried down the corridor.
Had he waited a few more seconds, he would have heard a stifled sob from the Prince’s chambers.
~~~~~
Loud striding footsteps echoed down the hallway adjoining to Prince Kurt’s chambers, and he hastily wiped his tear tracked cheeks and lay flat on the bed, hands loosely clasped and eyes closed in mock sleep. The door creaked open, and after a moment Kurt felt the bed dip deeply on one side. Rough, thin lips bumped against his own, and Kurt did his best not to remember Blaine’s plush, soft lips. When the lips receded Kurt allowed his eyes to open with too much fluttering of eyelashes. The man in front of him wasn’t ugly. Large set, with clear muscle but equally clear flab, with a strong square jaw and dull grey-brown eyes. Kurt shook away the image of bright hazel eyes flecked heavily with emerald, and smiled beatifically at the man before him.
‘To whom do I owe my gratitude?’ Kurt whispered as he sat straight, the line feeling thick and rehearsed on his tongue.
‘Dave, Dave Karofsky.’
~~~~~
The news of Prince Kurt’s awakening spread as fast as fire throughout Legere. Servants bowed low on either side as Kurt wandered down the halls, smiling uneasily at them, and the small daughters of servants, with their messily plaited hair, giggled sweetly when Kurt stopped to kneel down and say hello. For three weeks they ate only in the feasting hall, which overflowed with guests and lavish food, though Kurt blanched at the sheer expanse of meat, and the few wilted vegetable that he found intermittently. Frequently, Kurt glimpsed Blaine meandering through the guests, pouring wine and fetching platters of sausages and venison and turkey for impatient nobles.
Today, at just such a feast, Kurt sighed. Attentively his eyes followed Blaine’s path through the teeming tables, cursing his luck. His true love was a servant. Oh, class didn’t matter to him, but to everyone else it did. Without a prince to marry, McKinley would be without allies, and every foreign dignitary would open an attack. Kurt glanced over at his so-called saviour, Dave, who was greedily tearing strips of meat from a bone with his teeth, the slick fatty juices rolling down his arms in rivulets. Dave felt Kurt’s gaze, and turned to smile at him, chunks of chewed meat caught between his teeth. A light glimmered in his eyes, and, wiping his hands hastily on his breeches, Dave stood abruptly and took Kurt’s fine-boned hand into his own greasy palm. A hush fell over the hall.
‘Prince Kurt,’ Dave started stiffly, as though the words had passed his lips a thousand times before a mirror, ‘Would you do me the honour, of becoming my husband?’
Kurt gaped. He could feel the intense, unwavering gaze of the sea of guests, but none so acutely as Blaine’s. As if his eyes were red hot pins they scorched the skin at the back of Kurt’s neck, imploring him to say no. Kurt gulped, and nodded.
The room erupted in a euphoric din, and fresh barrels of wine and mead were opened. All around him people cheered and smiled, while Kurt felt isolated, stranded in a sea of eyes that couldn’t see him.
Lost and Found: Part Four
Description: In the land of McKinley a beautiful prince lies hidden, waiting for his true love to kiss him back into the world. Lord Dave Karofsky is determined to do just that.
Pairing(s): Kurt/Blaine, one sided Dave/Kurt, very vague reference to Azimio/OFC (Kelby)
Warnings: The most raw writing you'll ever see because I couldn't find my friend to beta it for me :D
Rating: PG
Word Count: 7,728
Author’s Note: Written for The Kurt_Blaine Hiatus Gift Exchange, hope you like it mothergoddamn ! :D
Disclaimer: I don’t own Glee, but if I did I'd just let it die after the characters graduate rather than drag it on with second rate plots and new uninspiring characters *glares at Murphy*
Legere Castle bustled with activity as message was sent of the impending arrival of Lord Karofsky and his retinue. Servants hurried to light the torches and candles in their iron sconces, and spread fresh reeds along the floor so the air was infused with their fresh scent. The laundry maids beat the wet linens frantically, so they could be whisked away by the chamber maids to neatly dress the beds. The fireplace in Lord Karofsky’s chambers was lit to a roaring blaze, warming the chilled room. In the lower levels of the castle, the kitchen staff dashed to and fro, preparing a feast of venison and goose and beef and lamb, drenched in thick gravies made from the meat juices, with potatoes as large as boulders.
Sequestered away from the chaos of the preparations, the serving boy Blaine tidied a guest chamber, beating the dust out of the drapes and tapestries and straightening the rugs, ready for the arrival of Prince Kurt. Blaine had heard hushed murmurs that the Prince was as beautiful as any maiden, more so in fact, and he eagerly anticipated his coming. As a wee boy, clutching at his mother’s skirts, he’d heard tales of the Prince, particularly his singing voice, clear as a still spring lake. He glanced nervously at his lute, perched in the corner. It wasn’t his place to impress the Prince, a servant had no right, but his excitement was too immense to deny.
He startled as the door swung forwards, smacking against the wall loudly, to announce the arrival of Lord Karofsky, Sir Azimio, and held between them… Prince Kurt.
The stories had greatly underplayed his beauty. His skin, pale as sweet cream, was specked with freckles that flickered in and out of sight with the candle light. His lips were pink and soft, turned up slightly at the corners even in sleep. His eyelashes, long and dark, fanned starkly against his pale cheeks, masking eyes that Blaine was certain would be just as stunning. His limp body was laid upon the maroon quilt that Blaine had spread across the bed, hands placed gently on his flat stomach.
‘You,’ Lord Karofsky snapped at Blaine, ‘Prince Kurt is in your care until further notice. Your other duties are meaningless now. Understood?’ Blaine nodded hurriedly, carefully avoiding his Lord’s gaze. As Lord Karofsky and Sir Azimio were obscured by the door, Blaine heaved a sigh of relief. He frowned uncertainly at Prince Kurt; shouldn't he be awake?
Blaine busied himself for a while, neatening candlesticks and goblets that he’d already tidied earlier. When he’d completed every task twice, he perched on a straight backed wooden chair, taking his lute in hand so he could strum at it idly. He plucked out a lilting romantic tune, and watched his fingers skitter across the strings so his eyes couldn't stray to the Prince.
Blaine strummed at the lute until his fingers were sore and red, and an hour mark had passed by on the lit candle. Still Prince Kurt slept. Now Blaine was very perplexed, surely after years of trapped slumber the Prince would be bright-eyed and eager to investigate his new home. He deposited the lute on the ground by his feet, and carefully picked his way over to the bed. Hesitantly, he settled on the very edge of the bed, absently resting his hand adjacent to Prince Kurt’s.
For a moment he simply gazed at the Prince’s serene face, but inevitably he felt himself leaning close, eyes flickering uneasily to the door. Sliding his tongue swiftly over his chapped lips, Blaine pressed his mouth to Kurt’s. At first the Prince’s lips were pliant but unmoving, but, as Blaine motioned to pull away, Kurt’s lips pressed more hungrily to his. In a brief glimpse of ecstasy, their lips smoothed against each other, hands tangling gently through silky brown and uncontrolled black locks.
The kiss ended, and Blaine rested his forehead against Kurt’s. Their breaths mingled, warm and moist between their cheeks so tiny pinprick dewdrops appeared on Kurt’s lashes, which flickered open. The sight of soulful eyes tripped Blaine’s heart, but it quickly picked up at double pace as a blissful smile spread across Kurt’s lips.
‘Hi…’ Kurt sighed, a pink flush staining his cheeks. Blaine couldn’t resist pressing a peck to the pink splotch.
‘Hey,’ He whispered back. Silence pervaded the room for a moment, but comfortable, surprisingly so for two strangers, and Blaine took the chance to slide his hand across the linen bedspread and tangle his fingers with Kurt’s own slim fingers. Kurt squeezed back sweetly, and finally pushed himself up onto his elbows to see Blaine properly. At the sight of a threadbare tunic and plain brown breeches with tattered hems, he wrinkled his brow.
‘Did you disguise yourself?’ Kurt inquired, raising one delicate brow. Blaine frowned and shook his head, his mass of tangled curls cascading across his forehead.
‘No, no, why would I disguise myself?’
‘Well, I’m sure I don’t know why, but I certainly didn’t expect to be woken by a nobleman in peasant garb.’ Even as the words left Kurt’s mouth, Blaine could feel his face crumple dejectedly, brow creasing and eyes casting down to their joined hands. He tugged his hand gently from Kurt’s grasp. The prince frowned at this sudden change in the atmosphere, and carded a hand through his saviour’s black curls, but Kurt could feel the tension that radiated from him.
‘My name is Blaine, and I’m a servant of this castle.’
Instantly a stony mask froze upon Kurt’s countenance. A tightness pinched the corners of his mouth, and his hand became rigid where it was knotted into Blaine’s hair, and he was quick to remove it entirely. The air in the room turned heavy and thick enough to choke on as long seconds dragged past silently.
‘I see.’ Kurt finally murmured, more to himself than Blaine, ‘Then I thank you for waking me, but you must leave and not speak of this to anyone. It simply mustn’t be-’
‘But I thought only your true loves kiss would wake you! If I’m your true love then we can’t merely-’
‘No,’ Kurt declared firmly, holding a hand up, ‘You must go. Send your master here, and I will ensure that you are rewarded for your compliance.’ As though a long fracture had split across his rose-tinted glasses, Blaine saw a still beautiful boy with angelic features and expressive eyes, but with a solid core of ice. Sharply, Blaine nodded, and stood from the edge of the bed.
‘Of course, sire.’ Briskly, Blaine strode from the room and shut the door with a resounding thud behind him. He lingered for a moment outside the door, wondering if Lord Karofsky would punish him for leaving his charge, but heedlessly he hurried down the corridor.
Had he waited a few more seconds, he would have heard a stifled sob from the Prince’s chambers.
~~~~~
Loud striding footsteps echoed down the hallway adjoining to Prince Kurt’s chambers, and he hastily wiped his tear tracked cheeks and lay flat on the bed, hands loosely clasped and eyes closed in mock sleep. The door creaked open, and after a moment Kurt felt the bed dip deeply on one side. Rough, thin lips bumped against his own, and Kurt did his best not to remember Blaine’s plush, soft lips. When the lips receded Kurt allowed his eyes to open with too much fluttering of eyelashes. The man in front of him wasn’t ugly. Large set, with clear muscle but equally clear flab, with a strong square jaw and dull grey-brown eyes. Kurt shook away the image of bright hazel eyes flecked heavily with emerald, and smiled beatifically at the man before him.
‘To whom do I owe my gratitude?’ Kurt whispered as he sat straight, the line feeling thick and rehearsed on his tongue.
‘Dave, Dave Karofsky.’
~~~~~
The news of Prince Kurt’s awakening spread as fast as fire throughout Legere. Servants bowed low on either side as Kurt wandered down the halls, smiling uneasily at them, and the small daughters of servants, with their messily plaited hair, giggled sweetly when Kurt stopped to kneel down and say hello. For three weeks they ate only in the feasting hall, which overflowed with guests and lavish food, though Kurt blanched at the sheer expanse of meat, and the few wilted vegetable that he found intermittently. Frequently, Kurt glimpsed Blaine meandering through the guests, pouring wine and fetching platters of sausages and venison and turkey for impatient nobles.
Today, at just such a feast, Kurt sighed. Attentively his eyes followed Blaine’s path through the teeming tables, cursing his luck. His true love was a servant. Oh, class didn’t matter to him, but to everyone else it did. Without a prince to marry, McKinley would be without allies, and every foreign dignitary would open an attack. Kurt glanced over at his so-called saviour, Dave, who was greedily tearing strips of meat from a bone with his teeth, the slick fatty juices rolling down his arms in rivulets. Dave felt Kurt’s gaze, and turned to smile at him, chunks of chewed meat caught between his teeth. A light glimmered in his eyes, and, wiping his hands hastily on his breeches, Dave stood abruptly and took Kurt’s fine-boned hand into his own greasy palm. A hush fell over the hall.
‘Prince Kurt,’ Dave started stiffly, as though the words had passed his lips a thousand times before a mirror, ‘Would you do me the honour, of becoming my husband?’
Kurt gaped. He could feel the intense, unwavering gaze of the sea of guests, but none so acutely as Blaine’s. As if his eyes were red hot pins they scorched the skin at the back of Kurt’s neck, imploring him to say no. Kurt gulped, and nodded.
The room erupted in a euphoric din, and fresh barrels of wine and mead were opened. All around him people cheered and smiled, while Kurt felt isolated, stranded in a sea of eyes that couldn’t see him.
Lost and Found: Part Four