Velvet Petals, Piercing Thorns - Chapter Nine
Title: Velvet Petals, Piercing Thorns - Chapter Nine (Prologue+9/?)
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, murder, torture, sexual blackmail, and political incorrectness.
Spoilers: While events and references from both seasons of Glee (which is not mine and never has been) may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Story: 50,000+ This Chapter: 4900+
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. Allies of the House of York have 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. If you haven't read any of this before, you can start HERE to read it on LJ or HERE to start it on AO3.
“You told him what?”
Blaine had traveled to Crawford Keep to finalize the arrangements for Amelia's move to Dalton, and having completed this had sought out Amelia to chat. Unfortunately, what she'd just told him had him reeling in shock and reconsidering the entire endeavor.
“I told him that you liked him,” Amelia replied calmly, embroidering a pair of dancing slippers as if she hadn't just confessed to revealing a secret that could ruin his life. It was obvious that she did not see anything at all wrong with what she'd done.
He shoved his fingers into his hair and pulled hard, aghast at what he was hearing. “Amelia. What exactly gave you the idea that you had any right at all to do that?”
“Well, it's true, isn't it?” She looked up, eyes wide and clear. “I'm not blind, you know.”
“That's not the point!” Blaine felt his teeth grinding as he resisted the urge to yank Amelia to her feet and shake her. “Just because you have changed your attitude about my preferences doesn't mean everyone else has done so!”
Amelia glared. “I know that. That's why I didn't tell everyone, Blaine. I told Florian. One person.”
Interesting that she was already calling the man by his name, rather than addressing him as 'Master Renner.' She'd never reached that level of informality with any other tutor. “One person we don't even know, Amelia!”
“One person who likes you, Blaine! He's not a bad man, I know it!”
Blaine was fairly certain that he was going to strangle Amelia, which was really quite a shame because up until now she'd been an absolutely delightful friend to have. “I repeat. We do not know him. I agreed to take Master Renner in with you because I knew it would make you happy. Even though you don't at all require music lessons at this point.” He stopped to take a deep, calming breath before continuing. “I did this as a favor to you - and you repay me by revealing my most important secret to a person I do not know, a person your father hired on the basis of the recommendation of a shopkeeper.”
That he also was drawn to the man in question was irrelevant, Blaine told himself firmly.
“You said yourself, we trust Noah - ”
“For music! We don't socialize with the man, Amelia, we have no earthly idea who he might think is a decent person or a terrible one! We don't know anything at all about Master Renner apart from what was in that letter. You didn't think.” Blaine tried to tell himself he was overreacting. Amelia didn't know the full reasoning behind his frequent meetings with her father. She had no idea how dangerous it was that she'd talked about his socially unacceptable leanings to someone they didn't know.
He was tired and tense from all of the planning; he and Lord Crawford had finally hammered out a timetable for Blaine to discuss the impending war with his peers, but it had taken many weeks and heated discussions to do so. On top of that had been getting Dalton House ready for Amelia and her entourage, which had required mediation between Emma and Wes on far too many occasions for Blaine's liking. His nerves and paranoia were already running high, then he'd woken up today to realize that he had agreed to take a perfect stranger into his home at a politically difficult time and he hadn't even had anyone look into his background, he'd been too preoccupied for it to even occur to him - and then Amelia dropped this on his head.
Beyond all of that, there was his disruptive, inconvenient, puzzling and sudden lust for the very man he and Amelia were discussing. That didn't help matters in the slightest. Blaine heaved a weighty sigh and tried again to cool his fury. She didn't know. She meant well. I think. It -
A sniffle interrupted his train of thought.
Blaine cast a wary glance at Amelia. When she got upset, she could go one of two ways: either she was going to slap him, or she was going to cry.
Oh, damn. He really, really sort of wished she'd gone for the slapping option.
“I...was...I wanted...” Hiccups disrupted Amelia's ability to form complete sentences as tears trickled down her cheeks. “You're so alone.”
“And I didn't have a problem with that, Amelia.” Blaine closed his eyes and tried to explain. “I suppose...I suppose there's so much I didn't end up telling you about my decision to remain alone and unmarried. I was so angry about having to make the decision at all...” He trailed off, remembering how bitter and furious he'd been then, just sixteen and so certain in his belief that it shouldn't matter to anyone who he loved, only to be told that it did. “I cannot truly fault you for not understanding.”
That did not mean that he wasn't still worried about the ramifications of what Amelia had done, and he knew she knew it. She looked up at him. “Please, Blaine. Please don't send him away. He's a good person, I'm certain of it. He needs a place to be. I want a music teacher. And I don't care what you say, you may accept being alone but I know you don't like it.”
“Amelia...”
“No, listen, please.” Amelia wiped her nose with the sleeve of her gown - Blaine winced at that, her mother would have a fit if she knew - and looked at him. “You have given so much. Can you please, please let something be given back to you? Even if it's only a chance?”
“It's dangerous. Amelia, you don't even know how dangerous it is, and I can't tell you.” But his resolve was weakening. She wanted to so much to repay him for what he was doing for her. And Florian was much too distractingly beautiful to ignore.
Apart from that, now that the other man knew his secret, Blaine literally couldn't send him away. He couldn't have that sort of potential for disaster just wandering the countryside. Not now, not at such a potentially volatile time. He needed to keep Florian where the man could be watched carefully just in case he was more than he seemed. They would be surrounded by people Blaine trusted implicitly, people who would protect him against any attack.
If anything happened between the two men while cohabiting under Dalton's roof, well. Stranger things had been known to occur. Blaine winced at how much he wanted to justify keeping Florian close by, for reasons that went beyond the logical.
He looked hard at Amelia. “You realize I am putting a very great deal of trust in your certainty that Master Renner is a good man.”
“He wouldn't hurt anyone, Blaine. I'm sure of it. He's so far from home and his father and everything he knows.”
Which was why Amelia related so closely to the man, he knew, and part of why she would be blind to the admittedly faint possibility that there was more to him than just a sad, lonely wandering performer. And Blaine didn't want to fault her for her innate kindness and willingness to see the good in everyone.
Yes. He was being paranoid, and he was overreacting. Not without cause, no, but even so. This could be managed. It wasn't the end of the world. He would forgive Amelia, he'd keep a very close eye on Florian, and it would all be perfectly fine.
Besides, now that he knew that his interest in Florian was mutual, it was going to be that much easier to - all right, perhaps he shouldn't be traveling down that mental path with Amelia sitting right there.
“We are going to have to talk about your lack of discretion later, Amelia,” Blaine informed her, raising his hand to ward off her protests. “We really are. It's my fault that you have no idea how dangerous it was that you just told Master Renner about me - but honestly, love, you shouldn't have in the first place. It was my place to tell him, not you. I know you meant well, but the information is mine to distribute. Not yours.”
“You would never have spoken to him about it,” Amelia muttered, wiping her eyes. “I know you.”
Yes, but you're not entirely clear on just how attractive I find this man to be... “Be that as it may, it was still my information and would have been my decision.” He looked out of the window, realizing that it was getting late. He had to go. “I forgive you, 'Melia. But I'm still not happy with you.”
“What are you going to do?” She bit her lip as she looked up at him, and it was clear that she was fully expecting the worst.
“Nothing.” Blaine shook his head. “I've finalized everything with your father this afternoon. It's too late to change the plans for you to move in, not that I seriously want to change them anyway. And I won't send him away. Nothing changes. I'll see you in a few days when you move in. All right?”
The relief on Amelia's face went a long way towards making Blaine feel better. He never had liked arguing with anyone, but when it was Amelia he felt especially terrible. “Thank you, Blaine,” she breathed, setting aside her sewing and getting up to run over and throw her arms around him. “I'm sorry. I really didn't know. You do know I just wanted to help make you happy?”
“I do,” he sighed, returning the embrace. “You are very lucky that you're too good a person to stay angry at for long.”
“I'm very lucky that you're too good a person to stay angry at me for long,” she corrected, leaning back to smile at him.
Blaine pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I must get back to Dalton. By now I'm sure Aunt Alice has exhausted her ability to keep Wes and Emma from each other's throats.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I really do hope you appreciate what I'm doing, Amelia. My steward and my housekeeper may do me in.”
“It will all be fine,” Amelia giggled as she tried to reassure him. “Emma likes things to be clean, Wes likes to be economically sensible. I'm sure you can find a middle ground.”
“I certainly hope so, else I may be forced to move us all to France. Without them.”
“David would never let you leave without Wes.” She returned to her seat and picked her work back up. “Now, go, or you'll never get home before dinner.”
“Indeed.” With a bow of farewell, Blaine excused himself and headed for the rear entrance of the keep that gave easy access to the stables. It was customary for one to depart the front entrance and allow a footman to arrange for his horse to be brought, but Blaine had been coming to Crawford for long enough that he enjoyed a certain amount of autonomy when it came to moving around the keep. He slipped through the door and crossed the cobblestones to the stables, where a wave to the master there was all that he needed to gain entrance.
His little fawn colored palfrey had been placed in her usual stall near the doors, so it was no great matter for Blaine to locate her. It was a surprise, however, to find Florian in the stall with Melody, rubbing her nose and talking softly into her ear. They hadn't set eyes on each other in the weeks since the singer came to Crawford, and Blaine was startled at how the uncurling warmth of arousal was as strong today as it had been then.
“Excuse me?”
The other man jumped in surprise, pressing himself back against the wall. He stared at Blaine with those fascinating eyes of his, which Blaine absently noted were green, now. Hadn't they been blue when they met?
It was incredible, Blaine marveled, how quickly he forgot every reason he'd thought he had to be wary of the man the instant he was in his presence. Blood rushed away from his brain, carrying with it all rational thought.
“I'm sorry,” Florian gasped, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Is she yours? I didn't know.”
“Yes, she belongs to me.” Blaine stepped forward and scratched behind the horse's ear. “You weren't hurting her. It's fine.”
The other man pushed himself up off of the wall and moved to stand at Melody's other side. “Does she have a name?”
“Yes. Melody.” Blaine smiled. “Amelia named her. Of course. If I'd had my way it would have been something dull like 'Horse' or worse.” His smile broadened into a grin. “Sometimes I still just call her 'Horse.' Don't tell Amelia.”
“On my honor,” Florian agreed, returning a shy smile. “She's a lovely animal.”
“Thank you.” Blaine knew the wise course of action would be to saddle Melody up and go, yet he couldn't bear to relinquish the first opportunity he'd had to be in Florian's company since their initial meeting. Inane chatter made him want to crawl under a rock and die, but it was the best he could do. So - “Do you like horses?”
“My father tends stables,” was the surprising reply. “I worked with him until I was given the opportunity to go into music. But I still like to visit a stable sometimes when I'm feeling...” He seemed to pause to think for a moment before finishing up with, “...a long way from home.”
That explained the calloused hands, Blaine realized. Not to mention the well-defined backside. And the strong forearms he'd just noticed emerging from the rolled back sleeves of Florian's cream linen shirt. Noticed, he told himself, only noticed. He was not admiring them. Much. Picking up Melody's reins, he led her out of the stall and into the stableyard. “You are accomplished in markedly diverse fields, Master Renner.”
“So says the singing liege-lord,” Florian retorted in a teasing tone as he strolled alongside. “We all have things we love to do, some of us are just...” He trailed off and coughed slightly before continuing with a new note of slight bitterness. “...fortunate. In that our pastimes can become our livelihoods.”
Blaine wondered what had made the man suddenly angry, but decided not to pursue it. “Well, if you're used to saddling a horse, you could help me with Melody here.” He did not mention that he was perfectly capable of saddling his own mount and that he was only doing this to watch Florian's arms as they handled the leather, the muscles flexing and clenching as he lifted the heavy saddle and cinched its straps around the barrel of Melody's torso. “If you like, that is. Obviously it's not required.”
An indecipherable look seemed to flash through Florian's eyes before he broke into a smile and nodded. “I don't mind at all. It's been a while. I hope I still remember how.” He strolled over to where Crawford's men had draped Melody's saddle over a rack. “I hope I can still lift it.”
Blaine's mouth went dry as Florian hefted the heavy saddle with relative ease and carried it over to drape over Melody's back. His arms were exactly as incredible as Blaine had imagined. He sidled over so that he and the singer were on the same side of the palfrey. “You, ah, you don't seem to be having a problem.”
Florian glanced over at him with a smile. “No, thank goodness. Turns out a few mo - years break from doing something doesn't entirely erase one's ability to do it.” He leaned down to secure the saddle girth, causing Blaine to bite his lip at the sight of that really unfairly magnificent rear end. He'd almost forgotten what it looked like.
Oh, all right. That was a total lie. He hadn't forgotten at all. A stupid grin spread across his face, one he had to hurriedly wipe off when Florian straightened up and gazed at him. “There. That's finished.” The singer's face took on a slightly wistful expression. “This is going to sound peculiar...but thank you for that. I...” He took a deep breath. “I miss my father. In a very odd way, that felt a bit like being home again.”
Blaine nodded as if he understood. Maybe he did, a very slight bit. “And I thank you in return. It was kind of you to do it, though it's beneath your station now.”
“I've never given much thought to class or station,” Florian shrugged. “It's something I can do and that I enjoy doing. As I said, it was really something of a favor from you to me.” He glanced down at his boots and licked his lips, cheeks turning pink before he looked back up, gazing boldly into Blaine's eyes. “I shall have to repay it, sometime.”
I have some suggestions, Blaine managed not to say. “It's not a problem, honestly.” They lingered a few moments longer, Blaine still unwilling to give up this brief moment of contact. “You can saddle my mount any time.”
When Florian's eyebrow tilted up in amusement, Blaine realized that what he'd said could be taken in any number of inappropriate ways, and he groaned. Now he couldn't get away fast enough. “I believe I'll just be going, now.” He reached up and grabbed the pommel of the saddle.
"Wait. I'll give you a hand up.” Florian leaned down slightly and held his hand out. “Step up.”
Blaine swallowed and lifted his right boot, placing his foot in the other man's hand. Florian nodded and secured his hand around his ankle, gripping firmly.
Even through thick leather and hose, Blaine would swear he could feel the warmth of the other man's fingers.
“On the count of three?” Florian looked at him, wide eyed with questions. Blaine could only nod. “All right. One, two...three!”
Blaine pushed off and swung his free leg over the saddle, landing heavily in the seat. He looked down to see Florian still there, still holding his ankle. “Thank you.”
“It was...my pleasure.” With apparent reluctance, the singer relinquished his grip. “I understand we are to move in just a few days?”
“Yes.” Blaine twisted his fingers into Melody's reins and nodded. “I have rooms ready for everyone. Well. Aunt Alice has rooms ready for everyone. In this endeavor I am nothing more than an open moneypouch.” He felt his mouth quirk into a wry smile, which Florian returned.
“I think Lady Amelia sees you as something more akin to a savior,” he remarked, his eyes alight with good humor. “At the very least, she sees you as her hero.”
“And what do you see?”
The words were out and hanging between them before Blaine could stop them, and he felt the blush racing up his cheeks. A matching pink tint colored Florian's fair skin as he caught and held Blaine's gaze with his own, all humor gone. His hand, which had been resting at his side, came up to cover Blaine's knee, pressing down and kneading gently.
When he finally spoke, never taking his eyes off of Blaine, his voice was a whisper that managed to be both razor edged and feather soft all at once, and it went straight to the pit of his stomach, puddling there with all the warmth of sunshine.
“I see you.”
Upon hearing that, Blaine froze. It was too intimate, too much what he wanted.
I don't really know who you are.
I want you anyway.
At the realization that he really did lack any sense of self-preservation at all, Blaine ducked his chin, swallowing one last time as he nudged Melody into a quick trot out of the stableyard, looking back just once before urging her into a gallop.
Florian stood where he'd left him, hipshot and chin raised proudly as he watched Blaine ride away.
~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~
Kurt watched the cloud of dust kicked up by Melody's hooves as Blaine abruptly departed, and he wondered where exactly he'd gone wrong.
I could write an entire book on where you'd gone wrong, mocked Jesse St. James' voice from the back of his mind. That he couldn't even get away from St. James even with a two day journey between them made Kurt raise his eyes to the heavens in exasperation. How aggravating.
His thoughts turned back to Blaine. Kurt didn't have enough - any - experience to know how far was too far to go with flirting. Jesse had been no help. Be yourself, he'd said.
Kurt had not expected Blaine to leap down off of his horse and hustle him into the hay loft...but he hadn't really expected the man to just run away, either. If what Amelia had told him all those weeks ago was true, Blaine thought he was attractive and Blaine really did like men the same way that Kurt liked them.
So what had gone wrong, here? He'd at least thought Blaine would express some interest in return. Unless him running away was some bizarre display of interest? Kurt groaned and moved to lean against the saddle rack. There was so much he didn't know about men. Why hadn't St. James been more help? Even if the Steward wasn't attracted to men, he obviously knew how the whole...how it all worked. And he knew how to get people into bed.
A snort of frustration escaped Kurt, fogging the chilly air around him. He became aware that since he was no longer in the stable, his clothing wasn't nearly substantial enough to just run around the English countryside in February. Gooseflesh lined his arms and his toes were going numb in his boots. He shook his head and strode briskly to the rear entrance of the keep, still trying to work out what he was doing.
What Kurt wanted, he thought as he tugged the door shut behind him, was for this to be over with as quickly as possible so that he could find his way back to Raglan Castle and extract his father. Jesse said he'd have enough money at the end of this to go wherever he wanted - fine. He'd take his father with him, then. Lord Huntingdon didn't deserve him, not if the Earl was so willfully unaware of what Jesse did in his name and service.
It was the first time Kurt had thought anything even faintly disparaging about his liege-lord. The thought froze him in his tracks for a split second before he shook it off and moved on, winding through the corridors of Crawford Keep. He didn't have a particular direction in mind, nor any particular agenda this day, so he was free to roam and turn over his chaotic thoughts until Amelia decided she wanted his company and sought him out.
He wanted his father out of that nest of vipers, far away from the reaches of Jesse St. James and anyone even remotely like him. The one thing he had to do to accomplish that was to get Blaine Anderson into bed. How could he manage this - and swiftly - with the limited knowledge at his disposal?
How, too, could he manage it when it was even more clear on this second meeting that there was some sort of camaraderie between them that went beyond the strictly physical? Kurt was no idiot, no matter what St. James thought. He was well aware that had circumstances been markedly different, he'd enjoy spending time with the Viscount.
Blaine doesn't deserve what you're going to do to him, his brain nagged, as it had been nagging since they'd met all those weeks ago. But what could he do? His father was the most important thing to him, more important than Huntingdon, Dalton, Crawford, or even the bloody King. Kurt thought of himself as a man of integrity - no matter what St. James had roped him into - but there was just about no betrayal he wouldn't commit to ensure his father's safety.
His jaw set with determination. He had to figure this out. He would figure this out, so that he could get it done as quickly and as with little damage as possible. Surely things would be easier once they were actually at Dalton. Being in such close proximity to Blaine would have to help hurry things along -
“Florian?”
Kurt turned to see Amelia emerging from her favorite sitting room, sewing basket slung over her arm. His heart twisted at the reminder that “as little damage as possible” was going to, was going to have to, include hurting her.
His friendship with the girl was nothing he nor St. James could have anticipated. Jesse had expected Crawford's daughters to be stuck up, haughty girls who wouldn't have the time of day for Kurt beyond lessons, and Kurt, having no reason to not think this would be the case, had gone along with it.
And for the most part, this was true. Lizzie, Abigail and Kate didn't want music lessons and thought of him as little more than furniture. They preferred to spend their time primping in front of their mirrors and talking about the next social occasion. From what he'd gathered, the two eldest Freville girls had been much the same.
Amelia liked being pretty well enough, and certainly she enjoyed a party, but mostly she loved music, sewing, and reading - and therefore was a misfit within her own family. She'd confessed to never really talking to any of her sisters, because once the vanity and socializing aspects of their conversations ended, there was really nowhere to go. They ended up just smiling weakly at each other before making excuses to part.
But Kurt and Amelia were meeting almost every night in the music library to talk for long hours about everything - music, growing up lonely, Blaine. Anything they could think of. It was cutting dramatically into his...personal time...which was ratcheting up his sexual frustration to whole new levels of annoyance he'd never dreamed could exist when he began his self-exploration all those months ago. Yet he couldn't bear to give up the one spot of brightness he could find in this mess, even as it made him feel like a selfish cad for it and for what it would end up doing.
If Kurt had never really had a friend apart from his father, Amelia had only ever really had one - Blaine. And now she had “Florian,” a person who didn't even really exist. It made Kurt's heart ache and it complicated everything immensely. Right at this moment in time, it was his one regret of the entire mission, though his rising interest in Blaine was creeping up behind it - and he determinedly did not think about what all of this was going to do to Blaine, which was ten times worse and exactly as undeserved.
He pushed all of his spinning, whirling thoughts away. There's too much at stake for anything but expediency, he reminded himself, even as it pained him to do so.
“Florian?” Amelia was standing in front of him now, her hand on his arm and a puzzled look in her eyes. “Florian, hello, are you in there?”
“Yes. Hello. I'm sorry.” He forced a smile onto his face. “How are you today?”
“I'm fine.” But Kurt looked more closely - her eyes were red-rimmed and there were faint tear tracks down her cheeks.
“Are you really?” He tilted his head and let his smile become a bit softer and more genuine. “People who are fine don't usually look like they've been crying.”
“It's fine.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Honestly it is. What's got you so far away?”
Kurt felt the warmth of his cheeks flushing pink and cursed his fair skin. It gave everything away. “Nothing of importance.”
One sly, slender eyebrow arched upward. “Oh? Do you mean to say you haven't run into Blaine?”
“What? I - ” Almost as bad as his traitorous blushing was his inability to get coherent sentences out when flustered. “I don't see what that has to do with anything.” He drew himself upright, straight as an arrow, and tilted his chin up.
“Mm. Right. Certainly you don't.” Amelia's smirk was deeply amused. “I'll get it out of you tonight. The usual time?” Without waiting for a response, she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek and wandered off in the direction of her chambers.
“One of these days I'm not going to answer the door to you,” he called after her.
“You're a terrible liar,” floated back her response as she turned a distant corner and disappeared.
No, and that's part of my trouble, Kurt thought. I'm really not.
Chapter Ten, Part One...