Velvet Petals, Piercing Thorns - Chapter Seven, Part Three
Title: Velvet Petals, Piercing Thorns - Chapter Seven (Prologue+7/?)
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade
Beta: mothergoddamn
Rating: Rated R
Pairing: Klaine endgame, bumps along the way.
Genre: Romance, AU, Historical Fiction
Warnings:: This is essentially a romance novel set in a violent time. There will be, throughout the story, sexual liaisons between men, murder, torture, sexual blackmail, and political incorrectness.
Spoilers: While events and references from both seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Story: 39,000+ This Chapter: 5800+
Summary: England, 1484: The forces of Lancaster see Edward Blaine Anderson, Viscount Dalton, as key to their plans to retake and hold the throne of England. The House of York has come to the same conclusion and want to stop that from happening. Their secret weapon will be Kurt Hummel, stableman's son and reluctant spy.
Additional Notes: This is written in the vein of your typical historical romance novel with all the historical liberties taken that you'd expect. I do try to be as historically accurate as is feasible, though. There are some historical and some original characters that interact with the characters we know.
He realized the other man was gazing at him, patience and trepidation in his extraordinary eyes. Blaine swallowed and licked his dry lips. “I'm terribly sorry.” Was that a tremor in his voice? He could do better than this. “Of course. She's right this way.” He turned to ascend the stairs. “I'm Edward. Blaine, I mean. Viscount Dalton.” He knew he sounded like an idiot who didn't even know his own name, and felt a blush climb up his neck and cheeks.
“Florian. Florian Renner,” replied the other man, quietly, musically. “Do you live here as well?”
“No. I'm a close friend of the Lady Amelia. She's asked me to sit in with her to listen to you.” Blaine tried to smile in reassurance, but it was difficult when he was struggling with the surprising desire to press this beautiful, stranger against the wall and kiss him senseless. “She's quite eager to meet you - in fact, we should really make haste. Come, please,” he trailed off with a mumble, aware that he very much wanted those words to mean something else entirely. Without thinking, he reached down to take the man's hand and pull him upstairs.
He nearly came undone then with the flash of lightning that went through him at the touch of their fingertips. This was more, so much more in every possible way than it had ever been with Thad, and in such an infinitesimally small space of time that his head spun with the insanity of it all. The weight of his years of celibacy seemed to land on his shoulders all at once, heavy and portentous.
They had to get through this audience. And then he would go home. Home . Blaine groaned internally, remembering that he had promised to grant this man lodging if Amelia should find him suitable. He did not know whether to pray that she would - or wouldn't. Damn you to hell, Amelia , he thought, and then mentally castigated himself for even thinking such a thing.
He led Florian to the music library, trying not to think of the softness of the skin on the back of the hand he held, trying especiallynot to think of the curiously calloused fingers and palm and what they would feel like on his skin. The singer was taller, too, magnificently long-legged, and Blaine absolutely tried not to think about how much he liked that .
They could hear the tinkling notes of the harpsichord from the end of the corridor. When he pushed the door open, Amelia rose from her seat and smiled at the two of them. “Blaine, thank you! This must be Florian.”
“Yes.” The singer pulled his hand free of Blaine's grasp with a gentle smile of his own before striding to meet Amelia and bow to her. The extravagant gesture afforded the Viscount an unobstructed view of what appeared to be, under the short tunic, one of the most excellently muscled backsides ever to be seen outside of a gathering of Greek statues.
Oh, he was in so much trouble.
“...my name of course is Lady Amelia Freville,” Blaine heard his friend explain to the beautiful man in front of her. “You'll be teaching me. And you've met my friend Edward.”
“Blaine,” he volunteered with a croak that made him shake his head in irritation. Clearing his throat, he went on, addressing the curious look that Florian was directing to him. “Everyone calls me Blaine except for my aunt and Amelia's father.”
“Yes, we met on the staircase,” Florian nodded, smiling again at Blaine and making him feel as though all the air was being pulled from his body. “He mentioned you would both be listening to me?”
“Indeed. Blaine is also an excellent musician and singer.” Amelia beamed with pride. “And as I've just learned this afternoon, I'll be fostering at his estate, which means you'll go with me - so since he will be employing you, it behooves him to ensure that you are capable of giving me a good education.”
“Living with you? Not here?” Florian's eyes were full of surprise and...something else, something Blaine couldn't quite catch. “But why?”
“Times are changing,” Blaine replied as lightly as he could manage. “Events are happening that necessitate Amelia coming to stay where I can keep an eye on her. I hope that staying at Dalton House won't be a problem. It's not as large, but my music library is the equal of the one here.”
Florian shook his head. “No, that's perfectly fine. Does that mean the two of you are...” He pointed a finger at them and moved it back and forth between them to indicate a bond. It took Blaine and Amelia a moment to realize what he was trying to imply.
“Oh, no, my goodness no,” Amelia burbled hurriedly. “Never in a thousand years. It would be a disaster.”
Blaine stared at her, actually slightly offended. “Good God, Amelia, why don't you tell the man how you really feel?” He was gratified when she had the good grace to blush a fiery red all the way up to the roots of her golden hair.
“Oh, hush. You know exactly what I mean.” She turned to Florian. “Blaine and I are quite close in age, and Dalton is a neighboring estate to Crawford. We are merely friends and have always been thus. Anything more would be like kissing my brother.”
“I see.” The man seemed vaguely stunned. Blaine could relate to that. Especially when Florian looked away from Amelia to smile sweetly at Blaine.
It's like getting hit in the head with the hilt of David's sword , he thought, dazed.
“Why don't you and I have a seat,” Amelia waved her hand at Blaine to catch his attention, giving him an odd look when he didn't immediately respond. “Then Florian can sing for us. You have got something prepared, I hope?”
“Of course. I hope Fortuna Desperata is a suitable choice.”
She nodded. “Eminently. How lovely. Blaine?” She frowned; Blaine didn't usually require quite so much directing. “Blaine!” Sidling over to him, she grabbed his arm roughly, dragging him over to their waiting chairs. As Florian remained by the harpsichord and readied himself, Amelia leaned over to hiss in Blaine's ear. “What in the name of all that is good and holy has gotten into you, Blaine?”
“Gotten into me? What about you? Oh my goodness no, never in a thousand years,” he mimicked, settling into the brocaded chair Amelia had steered him to. “I'm not exactly a bad catch, you know. You don't have to make me sound repugnant.”
“I wasn't trying to!” Amelia protested, pinching him hard on the inside of his arm, where even through his sleeve he felt the painful twist of soft flesh. “We've always agreed that we were utterly unsuited. And besides! You like boy - ” She cut off, mouth forming a perfect astonished O as her blue eyes grew large and delighted. “You like him.”
“What? No. Nonsense, Amelia.” But the blush crawling up Blaine's cheeks and spreading to the tips of his ears utterly belied his denial, and Amelia practically bounced in her seat.
“Oh, this is marvelous.” She glanced over at Florian out of the corner of her eye. “He certainly is pretty.”
“Amelia. I am really going to need you to be quiet.” He turned his head slightly to lock eyes with her. “And what is this attitude from you? Weren't you the one reminding me about the Church's stance on my questionable proclivities all those years ago?”
She waved away his objections. “That was then. Besides, as nice and good-looking as Thad is, oh, Blaine, this one's lovely . And I don't want you to be alone. I never did. I really just don't want to walk in on you in the linen closet again. I think you can manage that now that you're an adult, don't you?”
Blaine groaned and covered his face with his hand. “We are absolutely not having this conversation.”
“When he bowed to me, were you looking at his - ”
Thankfully, Florian turned to them and cleared his throat before Amelia could finish that horrifying sentence. “My Lord, my Lady, if you are ready?” At their nod, he nodded in return and opened his mouth to sing.
And if Blaine thought he was lost and in trouble before, he realized he was in far over his head the moment the first notes of Fortuna Desperata soared into the air and cascaded down around him, the angelic crystal of Florian's incredible voice seeming to call directly to his heart and twist his soul in longing.
He needed this man like he needed air to breathe, needed to blend his own mellow tenor with those bell-like tones, needed to hold him in his arms and touch his skin and kiss his perfect, perfect mouth and -
Blaine stopped his line of thought as his hose grew ever so slightly uncomfortably tight, and adjusted his tunic to hide the stirring there. He didn't even know if Florian was inclined to the same...interests. He did know he was perfectly willing to find out. And if not, well. He'd just have to do his level best to convince him that an afternoon romp would be a perfectly fine thing anyway.
Dear God, what is wrong with me? Blaine was horrified at how out of control his thoughts and feelings were raging. He was so preoccupied with trying to wrestle himself back into some semblance of proper order that it took him a moment to realize the silence in the room. Florian and Amelia were gazing at him - warily, in the case of former, and with more mischievous glee than he cared to see in the eyes of the latter. “Ah, that was wonderful, Master Renner. Really quite exquisite.”
“Thank you.” The singer bowed to the two of them and smiled. “If you like, my Lady, I can take you through a quick lesson, simply to demonstrate that I can be of use to you.”
“Oh, you'll be plenty of use to me,” Amelia piped up, eyes twinkling and much too cheerful for Blaine's comfort. When he poked her in the side, however, she simply gave him another pinch on the same spot of his arm that she'd gotten before, causing him to stifle a squeak of pain. Lord Crawford had been right; his daughter did fight dirty. “But yes, why don't you take me through scales and breathing? It's nice to just be sure.” She bounced out of her chair and all but skipped over to the harpsichord, bending her blonde head to meet the singer's darker one and commencing a whispered conversation.
Blaine remained seated, willing his excitable groin to please calm down. His breathing hitched in his chest as he watched Florian speak to Amelia, that perfect pink mouth forming around whatever he was saying with an unpracticed grace and sensuality. When the man circled around behind Amelia and wrapped one arm around her waist, demonstrating where he wanted her next breath to come from, Blaine wondered if perhaps he could find a way to justify lessons.
He just wanted to touch the man. To be touched by him. To kiss him long and slow and hard and rough and sweet and angry and just...in a hundred different ways, at a hundred different times, forever.
Blaine wondered if all the years of self-imposed celibacy had completely addled his brain. Certainly there could be no other reason he was behaving like this over a man he had met for the first time less than an hour ago. Could there? He had no idea. All he knew was that he felt like he was drowning in lust, it was obviously having a deleterious effect on his mind, and he needed to get home as soon as he possibly could.
“I think Master Renner will do quite nicely for you, Amelia,” he blurted, leaping to his feet. The pair turned to stare at him as he babbled like a fool. “I'll see that rooms are prepared for you, sir. There are still details to work out as to when Amelia and her entourage will be able to move in, but I'm sure it's soon. I'll make it soon. Are you sure it's quite all right that you move to Dalton instead of Crawford? If not I'm sure we can make some sort of arrangement - ”
“Blaine.” Amelia was biting her lower lip in amusement, and he could see her clasping her fingers tightly together in an effort not to laugh at him. Well, that was kind of her. “Everything is going to be fine.” Her eyes were fully a-sparkle with barely contained mirth. “Master Renner can move into Master Schuester's old rooms until you and I work out our arrangements for Dalton House. I thank you very much for coming, but why don't you run along home and we'll go talk to Papa?” Go, her enormous smile told him,go now before you make an even bigger idiot out of yourself than I can possibly repair for you.
He nodded to the both of them. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Renner.”
“Likewise.” The heartbreakingly beautiful smile that Florian turned on to Blaine distracted the Viscount so much that he came dangerously close to running into the door frame. He returned a smile that he knew was half-crazed and only just restrained himself from bolting out of the room.
Oh, Anderson, he thought in despair as he wrapped up in his cloak and made his way to the stables to retrieve his horse, You are in an unbelievable amount of trouble.
...Chapter Eight...
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade
Beta: mothergoddamn
Rating: Rated R
Pairing: Klaine endgame, bumps along the way.
Genre: Romance, AU, Historical Fiction
Warnings:: This is essentially a romance novel set in a violent time. There will be, throughout the story, sexual liaisons between men, murder, torture, sexual blackmail, and political incorrectness.
Spoilers: While events and references from both seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Story: 39,000+ This Chapter: 5800+
Summary: England, 1484: The forces of Lancaster see Edward Blaine Anderson, Viscount Dalton, as key to their plans to retake and hold the throne of England. The House of York has come to the same conclusion and want to stop that from happening. Their secret weapon will be Kurt Hummel, stableman's son and reluctant spy.
Additional Notes: This is written in the vein of your typical historical romance novel with all the historical liberties taken that you'd expect. I do try to be as historically accurate as is feasible, though. There are some historical and some original characters that interact with the characters we know.
He realized the other man was gazing at him, patience and trepidation in his extraordinary eyes. Blaine swallowed and licked his dry lips. “I'm terribly sorry.” Was that a tremor in his voice? He could do better than this. “Of course. She's right this way.” He turned to ascend the stairs. “I'm Edward. Blaine, I mean. Viscount Dalton.” He knew he sounded like an idiot who didn't even know his own name, and felt a blush climb up his neck and cheeks.
“Florian. Florian Renner,” replied the other man, quietly, musically. “Do you live here as well?”
“No. I'm a close friend of the Lady Amelia. She's asked me to sit in with her to listen to you.” Blaine tried to smile in reassurance, but it was difficult when he was struggling with the surprising desire to press this beautiful, stranger against the wall and kiss him senseless. “She's quite eager to meet you - in fact, we should really make haste. Come, please,” he trailed off with a mumble, aware that he very much wanted those words to mean something else entirely. Without thinking, he reached down to take the man's hand and pull him upstairs.
He nearly came undone then with the flash of lightning that went through him at the touch of their fingertips. This was more, so much more in every possible way than it had ever been with Thad, and in such an infinitesimally small space of time that his head spun with the insanity of it all. The weight of his years of celibacy seemed to land on his shoulders all at once, heavy and portentous.
They had to get through this audience. And then he would go home. Home . Blaine groaned internally, remembering that he had promised to grant this man lodging if Amelia should find him suitable. He did not know whether to pray that she would - or wouldn't. Damn you to hell, Amelia , he thought, and then mentally castigated himself for even thinking such a thing.
He led Florian to the music library, trying not to think of the softness of the skin on the back of the hand he held, trying especiallynot to think of the curiously calloused fingers and palm and what they would feel like on his skin. The singer was taller, too, magnificently long-legged, and Blaine absolutely tried not to think about how much he liked that .
They could hear the tinkling notes of the harpsichord from the end of the corridor. When he pushed the door open, Amelia rose from her seat and smiled at the two of them. “Blaine, thank you! This must be Florian.”
“Yes.” The singer pulled his hand free of Blaine's grasp with a gentle smile of his own before striding to meet Amelia and bow to her. The extravagant gesture afforded the Viscount an unobstructed view of what appeared to be, under the short tunic, one of the most excellently muscled backsides ever to be seen outside of a gathering of Greek statues.
Oh, he was in so much trouble.
“...my name of course is Lady Amelia Freville,” Blaine heard his friend explain to the beautiful man in front of her. “You'll be teaching me. And you've met my friend Edward.”
“Blaine,” he volunteered with a croak that made him shake his head in irritation. Clearing his throat, he went on, addressing the curious look that Florian was directing to him. “Everyone calls me Blaine except for my aunt and Amelia's father.”
“Yes, we met on the staircase,” Florian nodded, smiling again at Blaine and making him feel as though all the air was being pulled from his body. “He mentioned you would both be listening to me?”
“Indeed. Blaine is also an excellent musician and singer.” Amelia beamed with pride. “And as I've just learned this afternoon, I'll be fostering at his estate, which means you'll go with me - so since he will be employing you, it behooves him to ensure that you are capable of giving me a good education.”
“Living with you? Not here?” Florian's eyes were full of surprise and...something else, something Blaine couldn't quite catch. “But why?”
“Times are changing,” Blaine replied as lightly as he could manage. “Events are happening that necessitate Amelia coming to stay where I can keep an eye on her. I hope that staying at Dalton House won't be a problem. It's not as large, but my music library is the equal of the one here.”
Florian shook his head. “No, that's perfectly fine. Does that mean the two of you are...” He pointed a finger at them and moved it back and forth between them to indicate a bond. It took Blaine and Amelia a moment to realize what he was trying to imply.
“Oh, no, my goodness no,” Amelia burbled hurriedly. “Never in a thousand years. It would be a disaster.”
Blaine stared at her, actually slightly offended. “Good God, Amelia, why don't you tell the man how you really feel?” He was gratified when she had the good grace to blush a fiery red all the way up to the roots of her golden hair.
“Oh, hush. You know exactly what I mean.” She turned to Florian. “Blaine and I are quite close in age, and Dalton is a neighboring estate to Crawford. We are merely friends and have always been thus. Anything more would be like kissing my brother.”
“I see.” The man seemed vaguely stunned. Blaine could relate to that. Especially when Florian looked away from Amelia to smile sweetly at Blaine.
It's like getting hit in the head with the hilt of David's sword , he thought, dazed.
“Why don't you and I have a seat,” Amelia waved her hand at Blaine to catch his attention, giving him an odd look when he didn't immediately respond. “Then Florian can sing for us. You have got something prepared, I hope?”
“Of course. I hope Fortuna Desperata is a suitable choice.”
She nodded. “Eminently. How lovely. Blaine?” She frowned; Blaine didn't usually require quite so much directing. “Blaine!” Sidling over to him, she grabbed his arm roughly, dragging him over to their waiting chairs. As Florian remained by the harpsichord and readied himself, Amelia leaned over to hiss in Blaine's ear. “What in the name of all that is good and holy has gotten into you, Blaine?”
“Gotten into me? What about you? Oh my goodness no, never in a thousand years,” he mimicked, settling into the brocaded chair Amelia had steered him to. “I'm not exactly a bad catch, you know. You don't have to make me sound repugnant.”
“I wasn't trying to!” Amelia protested, pinching him hard on the inside of his arm, where even through his sleeve he felt the painful twist of soft flesh. “We've always agreed that we were utterly unsuited. And besides! You like boy - ” She cut off, mouth forming a perfect astonished O as her blue eyes grew large and delighted. “You like him.”
“What? No. Nonsense, Amelia.” But the blush crawling up Blaine's cheeks and spreading to the tips of his ears utterly belied his denial, and Amelia practically bounced in her seat.
“Oh, this is marvelous.” She glanced over at Florian out of the corner of her eye. “He certainly is pretty.”
“Amelia. I am really going to need you to be quiet.” He turned his head slightly to lock eyes with her. “And what is this attitude from you? Weren't you the one reminding me about the Church's stance on my questionable proclivities all those years ago?”
She waved away his objections. “That was then. Besides, as nice and good-looking as Thad is, oh, Blaine, this one's lovely . And I don't want you to be alone. I never did. I really just don't want to walk in on you in the linen closet again. I think you can manage that now that you're an adult, don't you?”
Blaine groaned and covered his face with his hand. “We are absolutely not having this conversation.”
“When he bowed to me, were you looking at his - ”
Thankfully, Florian turned to them and cleared his throat before Amelia could finish that horrifying sentence. “My Lord, my Lady, if you are ready?” At their nod, he nodded in return and opened his mouth to sing.
And if Blaine thought he was lost and in trouble before, he realized he was in far over his head the moment the first notes of Fortuna Desperata soared into the air and cascaded down around him, the angelic crystal of Florian's incredible voice seeming to call directly to his heart and twist his soul in longing.
He needed this man like he needed air to breathe, needed to blend his own mellow tenor with those bell-like tones, needed to hold him in his arms and touch his skin and kiss his perfect, perfect mouth and -
Blaine stopped his line of thought as his hose grew ever so slightly uncomfortably tight, and adjusted his tunic to hide the stirring there. He didn't even know if Florian was inclined to the same...interests. He did know he was perfectly willing to find out. And if not, well. He'd just have to do his level best to convince him that an afternoon romp would be a perfectly fine thing anyway.
Dear God, what is wrong with me? Blaine was horrified at how out of control his thoughts and feelings were raging. He was so preoccupied with trying to wrestle himself back into some semblance of proper order that it took him a moment to realize the silence in the room. Florian and Amelia were gazing at him - warily, in the case of former, and with more mischievous glee than he cared to see in the eyes of the latter. “Ah, that was wonderful, Master Renner. Really quite exquisite.”
“Thank you.” The singer bowed to the two of them and smiled. “If you like, my Lady, I can take you through a quick lesson, simply to demonstrate that I can be of use to you.”
“Oh, you'll be plenty of use to me,” Amelia piped up, eyes twinkling and much too cheerful for Blaine's comfort. When he poked her in the side, however, she simply gave him another pinch on the same spot of his arm that she'd gotten before, causing him to stifle a squeak of pain. Lord Crawford had been right; his daughter did fight dirty. “But yes, why don't you take me through scales and breathing? It's nice to just be sure.” She bounced out of her chair and all but skipped over to the harpsichord, bending her blonde head to meet the singer's darker one and commencing a whispered conversation.
Blaine remained seated, willing his excitable groin to please calm down. His breathing hitched in his chest as he watched Florian speak to Amelia, that perfect pink mouth forming around whatever he was saying with an unpracticed grace and sensuality. When the man circled around behind Amelia and wrapped one arm around her waist, demonstrating where he wanted her next breath to come from, Blaine wondered if perhaps he could find a way to justify lessons.
He just wanted to touch the man. To be touched by him. To kiss him long and slow and hard and rough and sweet and angry and just...in a hundred different ways, at a hundred different times, forever.
Blaine wondered if all the years of self-imposed celibacy had completely addled his brain. Certainly there could be no other reason he was behaving like this over a man he had met for the first time less than an hour ago. Could there? He had no idea. All he knew was that he felt like he was drowning in lust, it was obviously having a deleterious effect on his mind, and he needed to get home as soon as he possibly could.
“I think Master Renner will do quite nicely for you, Amelia,” he blurted, leaping to his feet. The pair turned to stare at him as he babbled like a fool. “I'll see that rooms are prepared for you, sir. There are still details to work out as to when Amelia and her entourage will be able to move in, but I'm sure it's soon. I'll make it soon. Are you sure it's quite all right that you move to Dalton instead of Crawford? If not I'm sure we can make some sort of arrangement - ”
“Blaine.” Amelia was biting her lower lip in amusement, and he could see her clasping her fingers tightly together in an effort not to laugh at him. Well, that was kind of her. “Everything is going to be fine.” Her eyes were fully a-sparkle with barely contained mirth. “Master Renner can move into Master Schuester's old rooms until you and I work out our arrangements for Dalton House. I thank you very much for coming, but why don't you run along home and we'll go talk to Papa?” Go, her enormous smile told him,go now before you make an even bigger idiot out of yourself than I can possibly repair for you.
He nodded to the both of them. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Renner.”
“Likewise.” The heartbreakingly beautiful smile that Florian turned on to Blaine distracted the Viscount so much that he came dangerously close to running into the door frame. He returned a smile that he knew was half-crazed and only just restrained himself from bolting out of the room.
Oh, Anderson, he thought in despair as he wrapped up in his cloak and made his way to the stables to retrieve his horse, You are in an unbelievable amount of trouble.
...Chapter Eight...