Any other fics where one of them is a servant? But not fantasy and not slavery. I read Westerville Abbey and everything in tags servant!Kurt and servant!Blaine
Titles and Roses by shanahane
When Blaine, the second son of a Lord, comes to visit his relatives overseas, his attention and affections are quickly stolen by the valet they appoint to help him. But whatever it is that sparks between them, how could it possibly last?
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How Things Should Be by Imogen_LeFay
Kurt Hummel's life is comfortable for a peasant with his work in the kitchen of Earl Anderson. It would be more comfortable, if he could rein in his feelings for the Earl's younger son, Blaine. But Kurt knows, life isn't a fairy tale. And lords marry ladies, they don't fall in love with kitchen servants.
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Like the Sun in a Gloomy Hour by nothingbutgoneness
Blaine is a knight of the kingdom of Dalton. Kurt is the personal servant of Prince David Karofsky. This is the story of how they save each other. [Cover art by artistwriterloverfighter. Warning for mentions of non-con. Rated M for both violent and sexual content. Other genres include Adventure (-ish), Angst, Suspense (maybe), and Friendship.
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When the Two Collide by skintightsocks
Kurt tries to ignore it, though he usually finds Blaine's embarrassment about these matters comforting and just a little charming. It's part of why he chose Blaine instead of an older, more experienced servant - that, and because of Kurt's hopeless affection for the boy.
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Westerville Abbey by @hkvoyage
Blaine is the second son of the earl of Westerville, and is considered the spare heir. After his 18th birthday, he attends the London Season to fulfill his duty of finding a wife. He soon realizes he is more attracted to the new footman. Kurt, who has just arrived at Westerville Abbey to work alongside his father, becomes equally as smitten with the earl’s youngest son. Will Blaine and Kurt be able to overcome their class differences in 1910s England? Will their forbidden love survive WW1? A Downton Abbey inspired historical Klaine AU.
hello! was hoping (if you have the time) you could please recommend some fics :) i like fics where kurt is older (by a lot or even just the one year like in the show), bottom!blaine, not too many chapters (under 30 preferably), i do enjoy mpreg if it’s well written and blaine is the one pregnant (but i feel like i’ve read most?). thank you for your help w this blog! sorry if this ask seems demanding; i read in your faq that you like when ppl provide detail. thank you again for this great blog :)
I did some searches on AO3. There are ten results for mpreg!Blaine. Many authors only tag mpreg without specifying Kurt and Blaine - there are 190 results.
Under the cut there are eight fics - either ones that I have enjoyed or ones I haven’t read but are written by authors that I like. Unfortunately, none of them have the age gap you are looking for. Chapters is not a good indicator of length of fic as they vary enormously by author. Word count is a better measure.
- HKVoyage
Apple of My Eye by idoltina
A fill for this GKM prompt. AU after The Break Up. Blaine finds out that he’s pregnant after Kurt breaks up with him (with Kurt’s child, no less). He tries telling Kurt about it, but Kurt refuses to talk to him. Blaine decides to finish his senior year at home and give the baby up for adoption. Only he doesn’t. He ends up keeping the baby – a daughter – and takes her to New York with him when he leaves for college. He raises her partially on his own with some help from his parents, and tries to juggle parenthood, school, and work. And everything works out okay for a little over two years – until he runs into Kurt.
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The Odds by @gleeana
Canon compliant with the show through the Klaine wedding, with the rather major twist that in this universe, men can become pregnant … and Kurt learns Blaine is pregnant soon after the wedding. A little too soon, given the circumstances.
This is a story about the power of love and family, and about the consequences of secrets.
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Hold My Heart by universalromance
GKM Fill: Blaine is a carrier who is sold by his parents when they are in need of money. He is gifted to Kurt by his buyer in order to gain favour with newly elected Congressman Hummel. He is expecting to be mistreated the way he was always told but soon discovers that there is still good in some people.
Note: Part 1 of the Treasure My Heart series
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What I Call Life by warblerslushie
Kurt broke off the engagement and left Blaine. Three years later, Kurt’s at a strip club for his bachelor party and sees Blaine working. Blaine’s been working there and enduring uncomfortable glances and touches for a year to make sure that his son was properly cared for. MPREG. Based on a tumblr prompt from blangstpromptoftheday.
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thought i could do this on my own by ShanleenKinnJaskey
Prince Kurt Hummel falls in love with Blaine Anderson, an orphan servant boy, and thankfully he returns Kurt’s affections. But what will happen when one night Blaine disappears, leaving only a letter behind that contains an unbelievable explanation? When, years later, Blaine appears with two sons in tow (one deadly ill), will Kurt finally learn the truth?
Note: Part 1 of the to be loved series
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We’re In This Together Or Not At All. by zigzag18
Blaine Anderson’s life is about to be turned upside down. After a hook-up with head Cheerio Kurt Hummel, Blaine finds out he’s pregnant. He didn’t tell Kurt that he was a carrier, so how is he suppose to tell Kurt? How is he, a 17 year old high school senior suppose to take care of a baby?
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Apartment 143 by idoltina
Six years into their marriage, Kurt and Blaine are starting to be established enough in their careers to want to settle down into a more permanent residence. When they happen upon a refurbished apartment in an old building at a price that’s a steal, they immediately snatch it up. They settle into their new home over the summer, and after a fairly intoxicated and intimate Halloween, they find themselves expecting their family to grow by one more. But as the pregnancy progresses, so does the level of paranormal activity in their home. It doesn’t take long for them to bring in paranormal investigators to figure out what inhabits their home, if they can get rid of it, and how to protect themselves and their unborn child from it – if they can.
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Spark Like Empty Lighters by atticrissfinch
It was supposed to just be a hook-up between student and teacher…and it was. But what will happen when Blaine reveals to Kurt that he’s pregnant with Kurt’s child? an mpreg!blaine au.
Summary: At the age of five, every boy and girl of noble birth in the kingdom of Lima was assigned a companion. On Kurt’s fifth birthday, his present had been a small, shy boy named Blaine, recently orphaned. Blaine really was the finest companion in the entire kingdom. Kurt had no doubt of that.
Fic where Kurt is a God.... Could it possibly be "Far From Home" by Kissesandkinks on S&C? I haven't read it, but it's the only fic I could find that sounds vaguely like the one described.
Yes, that’s the one! @caramelcoffeeaddict pointed us to it, too. Thank you both!
Far From Home by Kissesandkinks
Kurt is an exiled deity, stuck in the human world. He has become their god and they worship him. All he wants in return for the favor and blessing he gives them is a yearly tribute, someone to spend the night with. Kurt finds he is growing weary of his yearly tributes though, as his loneliness increases, until he meets a temple servant by the name of Blaine.
Summary: Could you write a story about how prince Kurt and his servant Blaine are falling in love, trying to hide/fight it but absolutely failing at that?
Summary: Kurt tries to ignore it, though he usually finds Blaine's embarrassment about these matters comforting and just a little charming. It's part of why he chose Blaine instead of an older, more experienced servant - that, and because of Kurt's hopeless affection for the boy.
Part three of A Peasant's Honour, a medieval AU featuring servant!Blaine and prince!Kurt.
Read on AO3 | Part one | Part two
Soft sunlight is filtering in through the gauzy white curtains, dappling across the bed in splashes of gold, glimmering with thousands of tiny particles of floating dust. The curtain flaps slightly in the breeze coming through the open window, gentle gusts of air flitting over Kurt’s skin and lifting the bangs that have fallen down onto his forehead.
Blaine looks beautiful. The sunlight casts a golden glow over his skin, bringing out the tan that is the result of days of hard work outdoors in all weathers. His eyelashes lay softly across his cheekbones, flittering slightly when he shifts, and Kurt wants to lean down and kiss them until Blaine wakes. But he doesn’t, letting his gaze drift down to Blaine’s chest, lightly dusted with hair, his palm resting against his stomach. Kurt wants to reach out and trace the contours of his ribs, run his fingers down his sternum and to the softness of his belly, trace it all again with his tongue. But he refrains, leaning back against the head board and smiling down at the man who is beginning to change his life.
Blaine shifts, rolls over, reaching out for Kurt and sliding a warm hand across his hips. Kurt smiles and shuffles down again so that they are facing each other when Blaine blinks his eyes open blearily.
“Good morning,” he whispers, leaning forward and rubbing his nose affectionately alongside Kurt’s. Kurt smiles, pressing their lips together briefly, pulling away before it stops being chaste – he still has awful morning breath, and he certainly does not want to share that with Blaine. Blaine grins at him dopily, resting his head on an arm and sliding his palm from Kurt’s wrist to his shoulder slowly, watching the progress.
Kurt is just as captivated by Blaine as he appears to be by him. Memories of their previous night together swell to the front of his mind, of needy sighs, heavy kisses, that feeling of fullness that he had never expected to experience when he left the Palace just over a week ago. Tangling his ankles around Blaine’s, he can still feel the slight soreness, not unpleasant, shooting up inside him. His fingers flutter over Blaine’s clavicle, resting gently on a darkening bruise at the juncture of his neck, tracing it with a soft touch that causes Blaine’s eyes to slide shut.
Grinning, he rolls closer to Kurt, encouraging him onto his back and leaning up to kiss him. Kurt smiles into it, brushing his hand over Blaine’s shoulder and down the planes of his back, smooth under his fingertips. Blaine moves up then, straddling him, and Kurt feels their morning erections brush together, gasps.
Blaine smirks at him – a confident, easy flick of an eyebrow that sends a wave of heat and emotion rush from Kurt’s heart to his groin – and settles down, lining them up and beginning to rock his hips gently. Kurt lets his eyes flicker shut, overcome with heat and feeling, and he drops back onto the bed, barely ashamed as he lets out a loud groan. Blaine’s hands run down his sides, setting his skin on fire, and Kurt is so ready to just let go, give himself over to this beautiful, wonderful boy –
“Wait.”
Blaine stops moving, sits up on his heels. Kurt opens his eyes; he’s faced with a very confused and slightly hurt expression. Sitting up, he reaches out and pulls Blaine back towards him. He goes easily. “Blaine,” he starts, unsure how to continue. Blaine’s callused fingers run over the back of his hand, soothing. “I just – I think we need to talk. About, um, what we’re doing.”
“Oh.” Blaine’s brow furrows, he begins to draw his fingers back, but Kurt grabs them, cradling his hands. “I – I thought you wanted this?”
“I do,” Kurt is quick to answer. “I want this more than – more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. But I think we need to have a discussion about this. And why we’re doing it. And what it means.”
Blaine is silent, looking out the window rather than at him, skin still bare on top of the sheets. Kurt unintentionally lets his eyes travel down Blaine’s body, feels a jolt of arousal shoot up his spine. He snaps his gaze back up to Blaine’s face.
“Okay,” says Blaine.
“Okay.” He pauses. “Can we talk somewhere else, though? I don’t want to be distracted, and I think that if we stayed like this…”
“Of course.” Blaine swings his legs off the bed and begins sifting through the clothes strewn across the floor for his underwear. Kurt watches him from the bed, then gets up himself, wrapping the top sheet around his waist as he shuffles over to the garde-robe. Behind him, he can hear Blaine dressing, then he feels a warm hand on his bare shoulder as he unfolds a fresh set of underclothes.
“Hey,” he says, tipping his head back onto Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine nuzzles his ear, kissing the lobe softly, then pushing him up again so he can dress.
Kurt dons a dark green tunic with bronze thread embroidered into the cuffs and hem, a twisting pattern around the neckline, and fastens a short wine-coloured cloak around his throat. In the polished silver of his mirror he can see Blaine, now fully dressed in his leggings and servant’s tunic, waiting by the concealed entrance to the servants’ stairway.
He straightens up, running his fingers through his hair, and turns to Blaine. “I’ll meet you on the shore of the lake in about half an hour, okay? Where we first met.”
Blaine nods and leans forward to press a short kiss to Kurt’s lips. “See you later, then,” he breathes as he pulls away. The soft smile stays on Kurt’s face long after Blaine has slipped through the door.
*
By the time Blaine returns to the servants’ hall, the sun is already shining brightly over the grounds, the hall busy and bustling with preparations for the day. Blaine ducks in a side door, keeping his head down as a senior gamekeeper passes by. He wasn’t meant to be out at all last night; any word to Bayne could give him twenty lashes of the whip.
He hurries down the corridor, hoping to make it back to his room unseen, but he is suddenly jerked backwards by a hand at the nape of his tunic. Terrified, he struggles, but he only gets jerked back farther into a shadowy doorway.
“Where the hell have you been?”
He lets out a sigh of relief. It’s only Santana.
“Santana, look, I was just out for a walk –”
“My ass you were.” She turns him round, pulling him further into the room – it’s barely bigger than a closet, piled high with crates. “You scream walk of shame, Blaine.”
“Walk of… what?”
“You weren’t in your room last night.”
Blaine feels an uncomfortable twinge in his stomach. “How – how do you know that?”
“Because I come and check on you every evening like the good little mother hen I am,” she says sarcastically. “No, because I didn’t hear you stomping around before bed.”
“So? I might have been walking quietly.”
Santana scoffs and grabs at the front of his tunic. He shrinks back, but she’s too fast, and then she’s got the top of his tunic pulled down, exposing the angry red hickey at the bottom of his neck.
“Care to explain this?”
“Santana,” Blaine hisses, pulling himself out of her grip. “It’s nothing. I fell.”
Santana simply shakes her head and drops onto a crate. She reaches out and pulls him down beside her, resting a hand encouragingly on his shoulder, her demeanour changing from sarcastically curious to comforting at an alarming rate. “It’s okay,” she says quietly, “You can tell me.”
Blaine glances at her, unsure, then drops his head into his hands, elbows resting on his knees.
“I met someone,” he groans.
Santana is silent for a moment, then, “A – male someone?”
Taking a deep breath, Blaine nods his head slowly. He feels her grip on his shoulder tighten, and then she pulls him towards her, wrapping and arm protectively around his shoulder. “He – he’s amazing, San,” he breathes out. “I never imagined anything like this could ever happen to me. That I could ever have anyone like this.”
Santana rubs his back soothingly. “Is he here with the King’s cohort?”
Blaine laughs gruffly. “You could say that.”
Santana keeps petting him soothingly, then suddenly her hand stills, and she pulls his hands off his face abruptly.
“Blaine Anderson,” she says. “Are you doing the dirty with Prince Kurt?”
Blaine feels his face turn a deep shade of red. Santana stands up quickly, mouth dropping open. “Oh my God,” she breathes, reaching out and supporting herself against a wall. “I mean, Berry and I were joking about this, but I never thought – oh my God, Blaine.”
Blaine grins sheepishly. “It’s, um, true,” he says in a small voice. “And I’m meant to be meeting him in a few minutes, so I really should be going.” He stands up. “You’ll cover for me, won’t you? And don’t tell anyone else about this.”
Santana nods dumbly, still too shocked to speak, and Blaine darts out the door.
*
Kurt strolls briskly down the corridor, cloak flapping behind him as he munches on a pear. The small basket of food he collected from the kitchen on his way by is tucked under his arm, an old blanket pushed through the handle on top. A courtier strolls past, bows respectively as he reaches Kurt, greets him with a bright “Good morning, Your Highness!”. Kurt thanks him with a nod of his head and continues down the hall.
He’s just turning the corner to a back door that leads out to the lake when he hears a gruff voice behind him.
“Kurt!” It’s his father, dressed simply in morning wear, carrying a few scrolls of paper in the direction of the office he had been lent whilst they stayed here. Kurt stops, hesitating, then bows respectively. He may be his father, but he’s still the king.
“What are you doing with that, son?” asks Burt, shifting his papers to his other hand and coming closer. “Meeting up with someone?”
Kurt blanches. “I – I’m just going down to the lake. I thought I would take breakfast with me.”
Burt seems to have noticed that Kurt didn’t answer his second question, because he claps a large hand down on his shoulder and leads him down the corridor into his office. He pushes Kurt gently towards one of the chairs in front of the big hardwood desk and comes to sit across from him. He puts his fingertips together and leans forward on his elbows.
“Kurt, that is the third time in the past three days that I’ve seen you sneaking off without any warning. What’s going on?”
Kurt fiddles with the handle of the basket, not daring to meet his father’s eyes. He can feel their steady gaze bearing into him. He shrugs, shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Huh.” The king leans back in his chair, settling his hands on the elaborately carved armrests, and stares Kurt down. Eventually, Kurt has to look up, and as soon as he meets his father’s eyes, he knows that everything is going to come out into the open. “Go on, then,” says Burt. “Explain why you spend so much of your time doing ‘nothing’.”
Kurt sighs, and glances away. “I’m seeing someone,” he mutters.
“Speak up. My ears aren’t what they used to be.”
Kurt turns, facing his father head-on. “I’m seeing someone,” he says, just managing to keep his voice from shaking. “As in, romantically.”
Burt is silent for a long time, face unreadable, then he leans forwards and places his hands on the desk. “I know.”
“You – you know?”
“I saw you coming back last week, late. On horseback. With a boy.”
Kurt grips the handle of the basket so hard he hears the weaving creak. “You – are you sure?”
Burt laughs gruffly. “Of course I’m sure, kiddo. And I saw you two dancing together at the festival.”
“Oh.”
“Look.” Burt’s voice is gentler now, taking on an understanding tone. “I know it’s not what most people consider normal. I know most people actually probably think it’s pretty odd, maybe even wrong. But if this is who you are, then I’m not going to be the man who’ll stop you. Just as long as you assure me that you care about this kid and are treating him properly, do what you want. But Kurt?”
“Yes?”
“Next time, don’t hide something like this from me, okay? I know I’m king, but I’m your dad, too. I love you. I love all of you. Even if you want to spend your time designing fancy clothes and baking rather than jousting or sword fighting.”
“I like sword fighting.”
“I know. I’m just saying. It’s who you are, I can’t keep you from that. And you are treating him right, yeah?”
“Of course I am, Dad,” Kurt mutters.
“Good. What’s his name?”
“Blaine. He’s a, um, a servant. Here.”
Burt nods, then stands up and comes around to Kurt’s side of the desk. “Come here, son,” he says gently, and pulls Kurt up into a hug. Kurt goes easily, burying his face in his father’s neck and breathing in the familiar scent of fresh cologne and fabric. He feels lighter, somehow, now that his father knows. Better, inside.
“Thanks, Dad,” he says, pulling away, subconsciously wiping his eye. “I should probably go and meet him now, though, I’m already late.”
“Of course. Go get him, kiddo.”
Kurt grins, squeezing his father’s hand, and hurries out of the room.
*
The air by the lake is still cool with a morning breeze, the sun just peeking above the trees, the tops of its rays sparkling on the shimmering water. Blaine arrives before Kurt, and settles on a fallen tree trunk, the end of which reaches out into the water. He picks up a few pebbles, tossing the in one by one, skimming the last one across the flat surface.
With the last ‘plop’, he hears footsteps coming through the trees, and stands up. Kurt emerges, a leaf in his otherwise perfect hair, and comes over to kiss him another good morning. Blaine reaches up and pulls the leaf out of his hair, tickling the end of his nose with it before flicking it away to float on the water.
Kurt spreads out a blanket on the shore, settles down on it, and begins opening the wicker basket he brought. Blaine drops down beside him and watches in amazement as Kurt takes out quinces, plums, berries, bread rolls, cheese, butter, cold ham, and a little stoppered bottle of wine. He lays them all out on the mat and produces two wooden plates, hands one to Blaine.
“Kurt, this is amazing,” says Blaine.
Kurt flaps his hand at him. “It’s just breakfast. Help yourself.”
Blaine digs in – this is more food than he’s had available for months, maybe years. The fruit is fresh and succulent, the bread soft and spicy, the wine delicious. He licks his fingers after every bite, keen to get as much as he can.
Finishing his last quince, he looks up. Kurt has got blackberry juice smudged along the bottom of his lip, the dark red stain contrasted against his fair skin tone. Blaine licks his lips subconsciously, leaning forward. “Kurt – you’ve got –”
“Hmm?”
Blaine simply shakes his head and leans in to kiss him. Kurt tastes of blackberries and wine, his lips soft and still until he starts kissing Blaine back, opening his mouth and threading a hand back into Blaine’s hair. Blaine gasps, moving forward and pressing his lips harder against Kurt’s, his tongue dipping out and licking along Kurt’s bottom lip to catch the blackberry juice. Kurt lets out a soft sigh and falls down onto one elbow, Blaine moving above him.
Kurt pulls back, pressing a hand against Blaine’s chest. “Wait – Blaine, wait.” Blaine sits back up, frowning. “Look,” says Kurt. “We came out here so that we could talk without getting distracted.”
Oh. “I – you’re right. Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay, just… let’s try and stay focused.”
Blaine nods, crossing his legs and resting his hands in his lap. “So,” he starts.
“So.” They look at each other silently; Blaine doesn’t want to start, and he’s pretty sure Kurt doesn’t either.
“I think we need to –”
“I really like you –”
“I’m sorry. You go first.” Kurt smiles gently, encouraging him, and Blaine nods.
“I – I really like you, Kurt,” he begins shakily, fingers twisting in the laces on his boots. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone else. You’re so – humble, for, you know, your position, and so remarkable, Kurt, I just –” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, and looks Kurt directly in the eye. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I wouldn’t give up what we have for the world.” He’s surprised he manages to get it out without choking.
Kurt blushes, ducking his hand to conceal his smile. He reaches over and takes Blaine’s hand. He contemplates silently for a while, tracing the lines on his palm, then places it against his knee and looks up. “It’s lonely, being a prince. You would think I would have so many opportunities to meet people and make friends and fall in – but I’ve never – I’m not.” He pauses, eyelashes fluttering. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met that I feel like I can really be myself with. Who’s not afraid of me, because of who I am, or has preconceptions about what I’m like and it’s just – it’s so – so freeing.”
Blaine feels a warmth erupt inside his chest, the same kind he feels whenever Kurt does or says something like that. He felt it the first time they danced together, and when they swam in the lake, and when they were tangled up and as close as possible the previous night. And he’s feeling it now, and he’s fairly sure what it is, so he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against Kurt’s lips.
“Blaine, no,” protests Kurt, pulling back, but Blaine silences him with a finger on his lips.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispers.
Kurt is silent for a while, simply staring at Blaine, eyes open wide, then the hint of a smile tugs at his lips.
“I love you, too,” he replies.
“Then I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Blaine kisses him again, more forcefully this time, trying to get across all the emotions and feelings and joy and love cooped up inside him. Kurt responds eagerly, and Blaine’s heart wants to beat right out of his chest.
Kurt draws away, leaning their foreheads together, eyes closed. A serene smile paints his face.
“My father knows,” he says softly after a few moments.
“Oh?”
“Mmm. He’s okay with it. He just wants to be sure I’m treating you right.”
“You are.”
“I try.”
“I love you.”
Blaine grins. The fact that he can just say that now, whenever he wants, and the meaning it brings to their relationship – he’s floating, light as a leaf carried on the wind.
Edit: THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE. Please go here to read the full fic.
I get lots medieval!klaine feels a lot ok please don't judge me
but here's 3000+ words of medieval!klaine for you
When he wakes up on the morning of the 48th annual Ceremony of the Butchered Horse, Blaine Anderson has never felt less like getting out of bed.
Unfortunately, he obviously isn’t trying hard enough, because barely a minute later there is a heavy banging on the door and a loud call to “get his scrawny ass of bed and down these stairs before I come up there and drag you down myself.” He sits up, wearily rubbing his eyes, and drags himself up off the low palette, still clutching the cover around his shoulders. He can hear shouting from down below, and shuffles over to the window, blinking blearily as he peers out into the misty pre-dawn morning. Despite the murkiness of the pane of glass, he can still make out Bayne, the steward, shouting at – is that Artie or Rory? it’s too dark to tell – as he empties two large cesspit buckets into the river that flows past the servants’ hall.
Yawning, he dresses quickly and heads downstairs.
*
It’s almost midmorning by the time the Ceremony properly begins. Blaine has been busy setting up tents and hauling barrels of ale and trying to back horses into stalls since he downed his meagre breakfast of porridge and bread crusts. There is a lot of work to do to set up a tournament like this one, and though Lord Morris boasts over two hundred servants, there always seems to be too much to do and not enough hands to do it. The four lords that Lord Morris has invited from the surrounding provinces are only the least of their guests – a formal invitation had been accepted by the King himself, who will be staying in the castle for three weeks after. And that means that everything has to be perfect.
Blaine wipes the thin layer of sweat off his forehead as he straightens up, looking out over the tournament field. The weather is fine, wonderful even for such an important event. People bustle around, women attending stalls to sell the baskets they’ve woven or the pies they’ve baked, men brushing down horses and polishing armour, children weaving between their parents’ legs as they play games of chase. A general feeling of excitement fills the air, only amplified by the bursts of song coming from the ale tent and joyful cries of the children.
Sighing, Blaine picks up the two saddles he was carrying and continues over to Lord Morris’ tent. Just behind it are stationed several of his knights, already preparing to joust or spar, attended by their pages as they strap on heavy, gleaming armour and test the sharpness of their blades. He deposits one of the saddles with Sir Hudson and hands the other over to Sir Evans, who sends him a grateful smile. Just as he’s turning round to go and do his next errand – finding a couple of extra cushions for Lord Morris’ frail wife – there is a loud cheer from the Southern entrance to the field. Coming round the side of the tent again, Blaine realises what’s got everyone so excited – the lords are arriving, and will be followed by the King.
The King is a good man, well-loved by most of the peasantry – and therefore, most of the country – for his efforts to improve their well-beings. Lowering taxes, setting up free broth stalls in most major towns on weekends and holidays, even taking a stand for the inclusion of women in matters of state. Although he is rumoured to be stubborn and hot-tempered, his good heart and love for his kingdom have proven themselves time and again when they have been on the brink of war. Even when the Queen passed away a few years ago, leaving him and his son alone, he kept the country running smoothly and the people happy.
A loud fanfare erupts, and Blaine wanders along the edge of the field, standing near the gap between the tents and stalls that serves as an entrance. A herald strides out in front of him, raising his hands to silence the crowd.
When the only sound left is the nickering of horses and the high wail of a baby crying, he speaks. “My Lord,” he says, bowing to Lord Morris, “My Lady,” bowing to Lady Morris, and turning to the crowd, “and everyone else here who hasn’t got a cushion to sit on!” There is a loud cheer of applause. “Please allow me to welcome Lords Marren, Gilliarin, Castelnaudary and Bowle!” More fanfares erupt as the lords ride out onto the field, each surrounded by a small group of knights and servants. The cheering continues as each group heads over to a tent, and only dies down when the herald raises his hands again.
“And of course, His Royal Majesty King Burt and his son, Prince Kurt!”
The crowd erupts into noise as the King rides onto the field, alone save for the boy sitting ramrod straight on a chestnut horse next to him. He raises his hand in greeting, electing another wave of noise from the crowd. The stomping and banging on the barriers that surround some of the field is deafening, people yelling and shouting and cheering for their King.
But then King Burt turns towards his tent, towards Blaine, and all the noise fades from existence as if he had been smothered by several thick layers of mud.
Because the turn meant that whilst previously he had been on the King’s far side, obscured, Prince Kurt is now directly facing Blaine.
And he is the most beautiful human being in existence.
Their eyes meet – after all, Blaine is standing right in front of the King’s tent – and Blaine feels like he’s been hit by a cannonball. Kurt is simply amazing, eyes such a shocking, beautiful blue, even though he’s standing several yards away, brown hair swept up on top of his head only accentuating his somehow soft-but-sharp features, pointed chin and sweet nose and such beautiful lips, and Blaine wonders what it would feel like to have them open and moving against his, one hand buried in Kurt’s soft brown locks and the other around his waist as he pulled their bodies together –
He mentally kicks himself, trying his best to get the images out of his head as he steps back to allow them to ride past, bowing deeply. His parents had pressed it into him as a child, how wrong it was to think of boys that way, unnatural and sick and shaming. He remembers his father’s words the last time he visited home, strong and harsh, when he had seen him glancing at the other boys at the village fair, “how dare you look at them that way, boy, you are a disgrace, if it wasn’t for the money Lord Morris is so kindly paying you, I would have disowned you by now, filth…”, remembers his mother’s silence and the guarded look of fear in her eyes when he had tried to explain that he couldn’t help it, that he was born like this.
Gulping, he still can’t help but feel a thrill in his stomach when he sees what it unmistakably Kurt’s leg go past only a couple of feet in front of him.
*
The feast begins just after noon, the King and all the Lords and their wives and sons and knights all seated at one long table arranged in the middle of the field.
The morning had been eventful, even though Blaine had been too distracted by glancing over at the King’s tent to watch most of it. Sir Evans squarely beat one of Lord Marren’s knights at the joust, but was later defeated by one of Lord Bowle’s knights in the swordfighting ring. Sir Hudson fared quite well at swordfighting, but lost atrociously to one of the King’s knights in the joust. Lord Morris’ other knights showed a range of victories and losses, but all is done in good will, and by the time the meal begins, everyone is tired and hungry but have thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
Blaine carries his pitcher of wine around the table, stopping whenever he sees a cup that needs refilling and topping it up to the brim. The smells of roast pork and venison and they even have a swan rise from the table, tickling at his nostrils and making him wish for a moment that he was one of them, dining on the best foods and drinking the best wine and being waited on hand and foot.
But then Lord Castelnaudary calls him over for a refill and he remembers what he is: a simple servant.
He carefully refills the lord’s cup, picking up snippets of his conversation with Lord Marren and the King.
“… yes, he’s doing well. I think the death of his mother shook him, but he’s a strong lad, it didn’t stop him from becoming one of the best sword fighters I’ve known.” The King motions his cup at him, and Blaine hurries round to fill it up. With a jolt, he realises they are talking about Kurt.
“Is he competing today?” asks Lord Marren.
“No, no, he said he doesn’t want to. I don’t want to force him into anything.”
“And what about the ladies, eh?” says Lord Castelnaudary conspiratorially, leaning in as he also hands his cup to Blaine. “You plan on finding him a lovely wife any time soon?”
Blaine sees the King stiffen out of the corner of his eye. “No, he… he hasn’t shown any interest in marriage. Or any of the… ladies.”
Blaine’s ears prick up at this piece of knowledge, something like the smallest glint of hope running through him, but he’s called down the table before he can hear anything more.
*
The feast wears on, Blaine serving, and after having noticed early on that Kurt is nowhere at the table, the nerves and flutteriness he has had since he laid eyes on the beautiful boy begin to calm down. Soon most people are finishing, leaning back and stretching appreciatively. Blaine waits until the King has risen – followed suit by everyone else – to start clearing the table.
He’s carrying what remains of a stuffed turkey back to the castle kitchens when he hears it – the snick of a branch being broken, the soft swoosh of a blade twisting through the air, the crunch of moving feet of the leafy ground. Still carrying the turkey, he creeps towards the noise, away from the castle and into the woody strip that surrounds the lake.
He’s not gone far – just past a few trees, really – when he sees him. Tall and lithe and beautiful, graceful as a snake and just as deadly, Kurt is silently swinging his sword around, practising moves as he plunges the blade into invisible enemies and swipes it at the tree.
Blaine stares, shocked still, the turkey still loose in his grasp. So this is where Kurt had been during the feast. Silently practising his swordfighting in the woods, away from the tournament and the Ceremony and society. Blaine doesn’t understand why, knows that it’s none of his business. Kurt is facing away from him, towards the lake, and Blaine knows that this is private, that he should go. He starts to stumble backwards, away from the small clearing, hoping that Kurt doesn’t hear him.
As if nature itself had heard his thoughts and set out to oppose them, a branch snags at his belt and his foot twists in a root at the same time. He comes crashing down onto the leaf-strewn ground, the metal tray the turkey had been on landing with an even louder clang beside him. Up ahead, Kurt freezes, sword raised, then turns around slowly.
Blaine bites his bottom lip, struggling to stand, gasping out his apologies. “Your Highness, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t – I’m going, I’ll let you – please, just forget I was ever here –“
“Wait.”
Kurt’s voice is high and clear and beautiful and Blaine is immediately silenced, staring up in apprehension. The boy stops in front of him, still clutching his sword, strands of hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and a blue shirt hanging loosely off his thin but quietly toned frame. He looks at Blaine for a few moments, forehead creased, before extending a hand to Blaine.
Blaine stares at it, mouth hanging dumbly open, until his brain catches up with his body and he slowly slips his palm into Kurt’s, allows him to gently pull him off the floor.
Their hands linger a little longer than is strictly necessary, perhaps because of how well they seem to fit together. Kurt watches Blaine quietly as he lets go, eyes dropping to the turkey laying abandoned on the floor, a hint of a smile ghosting his lips. “Better get that back to the castle,” he says. “They’ll be wondering where you are, and I don’t think that telling them you were spying on the Prince is a very good excuse.” Blaine’s mouth drops open again as Kurt turns away, looking out towards the lake then down at the sword in his hand. “I should get back too,” he says, probably more to himself than Blaine.
Gulping and shutting his stupid mouth, Blaine nods awkwardly, spinning around to pick up the turkey and tray. He can feel Kurt’s eyes on him as he checks that the food isn’t dirtied – it’s fine – and smiles slightly at him before carefully stepping over the root and starting back to the castle. He hears a crunch behind him and feels a hand on his shoulder, causing his stomach to swoop.
“Hey, wait,” says Kurt, coming to stand in front of him and twisting his fingers together. “I – er – I didn’t catch your name.”
“Blaine,” he answers after a few seconds of hesitation.
Kurt nods. “It’s lovely to meet you, Blaine.” He pauses. “Keep an eye on that turkey,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, then turns away.
Blaine slowly heads back to the castle, stunned.
*
Evening has come, the music is loud, the ale is flowing, and the dancing has begun.
Blaine manoeuvres his way through the crowd, holding the bag of dried fruit he just bought aloft to avoid it getting knocked to the floor or stolen. It’s a strange mix of peasants from the surrounding villages, servants from the castle like himself, and nobility. Mingling, dancing together, enjoying themselves. He lets a little smile slip onto his lips at the thought.
Eventually he’s made it through the thickest part of the mob – he had to avoid the dance in the middle of the field, of course – and can sit atop a wagon to watch the throng of people under the dark sky. The music is quick and catchy, played on the flute and lute and fiddle. He finds himself tapping along with his foot as his eats his food.
Someone pats his shoulder and he looks up to see Rachel, one of the scullions and scandalously in a relationship with Sir Hudson, smiling eagerly at him.
“Wanna dance?” she asks, tugging at his sleeve.
“Uh… sure,” answers Blaine, carefully wrapping the bag up and sticking it in his belt. She squeals excitedly and grabs his hand, pulling him off the wagon.
They dance their way into the crowd, Blaine’s hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder, the others clasped, both grinning with infectious smiles. Blaine has the entire evening off, and suspects his friend Rachel does too, and he intends to make full use of it. The music is even louder over here and blares as they swing past the little stage the musicians are on. Blaine spins Rachel around, laughing as she puts on a pouty face, pretending to be noble, as she dances. The song changes and now they’re changing partners, Blaine spinning around and grasping hands with a rosy-cheeked middle-aged woman. They stomp their feet and dance around and change partners again, and again, and then he’s back to Rachel.
She grins and pulls him in tighter as the tempo picks up, and they spin around dizzily before they have to change partners again, laughing, swaying, spinning, jumping, dancing and then Rachel twirls off again and Blaine twists around –
– and finds himself neatly tucked up in Kurt’s arms.
“Oh my – Your Highness – I’m sorry –“ he exclaims, barely noticing the way Kurt keeps them turning with the dance and with the other partners, too shocked by the fact that he spun into Kurt and is dancing with Kurt and oh my gosh Kurt’s hand is on his waist. Kurt shakes his head, grinning, keeping Blaine transfixed as he gracefully leads him around the dance floor. Blaine’s blood is pulsing in his veins at the physical proximity and the fact that he can smell Kurt and that he smells absolutely amazing. He shuts up after a few more garbled sentences, simply letting Kurt’s silent grin and bright eyes almost green in the low yellow light wash over him as they dance.
The music is leading up to another partner change, but instead of letting him spin off backwards, Kurt gentle leads-dances Blaine over to the edge of the circle and then out of the mob of people entirely.
He lets go of Blaine, taking his hand instead, and tugs him after him through the dark tents and stalls. Blaine follows, dumbstruck.
Kurt stops at the edge of the tents, right on the edge of the field, and turns to face Blaine. His skin is bright in the soft moonlight, all smooth and pale and gleaming. He looks up at Blaine through his eyelashes, an almost nervous look on his face.
Blaine tilts his head gently, silently prompting Kurt to say something, do something, anything. He has no idea what they’re doing out here, no idea what is going on, no idea why Kurt is looking at him like that, as if he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Kurt moves closer, closer, until his face is barely inches from Blaine’s, cool breath ghosting over his skin. Blaine sees his eyes flick downwards and back up to look at him, and the look there is so intense and intimate that it makes Blaine’s head swim.
And then Kurt presses his lips to his, and the world turns upside down.
