Author's Note:
I saw this "Kurt gets trapped in a painting" prompt on the Prompt a Klaine fic blog and really couldn't resist. So here's another fairy-tale Klaine fic from me to you, with love
Thank you to my wonderful beta hkvoyage, who stuck with me through two story switches and encouraged me and offered ideas for the continuation of this story whenever I got stuck. Thank you for your tireless support and for putting up with my procrastinating and poor time management. You rock!
This story is enhanced by the beautiful art of not just one, but two artists. Lallagoglee made the cover art, and MyPopCultureSummer made the chapter art. Thank you so SO much to the both of you! You're amazing!
I'm dedicating this story to sunshineoptimismandangels. Enjoy, sweetie!
In loving memory of Josée Gardin, my "Grace". I miss you.
Picture Perfect
by lilyvandersteen
Prologue
Lima, August 1940
"I want Mommy to kiss me goodnight," Kurt whined.
Burt sighed. "Your mommy's ill, buddy, I told you so."
"But she's just lying in bed, so I could go to her for a kiss," Kurt insisted.
"No!" Burt boomed, and Kurt fell silent, his eyes huge and tearing up.
Burt sighed again. "Listen, kiddo, your mom's very ill, and she'd make you ill, too, if you go near her. Even I can't see her anymore. Only the doctor's allowed in her room now."
"Will the doctor make her better?" Kurt wanted to know.
Burt took his cap off and rubbed his hand over his head. "He's trying to. But I don't think there's much he can do at this stage. We noticed it too late. Lizzie just thought it was her time of the month, only a bit worse than usual. So she didn't say anything straightaway. And then when she realised, the usual medication didn't help anymore."
"But there must be something you can do!" Kurt said, his eyes brimming with tears and overflowing. "You're the king, Dad! You have the strongest magic of anyone here!"
Burt gathered his son in his arms and hugged him tightly. "I can do much, yes, but fae magic only goes so far. Life and death are beyond me, kiddo. The only ones who could help Lizzie now are the ifrit."
"Ifrit?" Kurt tried out the unfamiliar word.
"That's what they call themselves," Burt explained. "You can also call them 'ruhin'. Or evil spirits, 'cause that's what they are. They're a kind of djinn."
Kurt perked up instantly and his eyes shone. "Like the djinn who helped Aladdin?"
Burt shook his head, chuckling humourlessly. "No, kiddo. Not like that at all. The ifrit rank only one level under the angels and devils. Very powerful. Not the kind of djinn you can put in a lamp and make your servant. They'd rip you apart if they caught you so much as thinking of it."
Kurt's eyes widened, and he clung even more tightly to Burt, shaking with fear.
Burt held his son close and stroked his hair. "Aw, don't worry, bud, they wouldn't go after a little kid like you. I'm just saying…. You don't want to mess with the ifrit. They're evil, and would ask an unbearable price for saving Lizzie. They'd probably want you for a slave. No way am I contacting them."
Kurt cocked his head to the side. "How would you find them anyway, if they're djinn?"
Burt nervously played with his wedding ring. "There… There are ways. But as I said, I'm not going to."
"So Mommy's going to die?" Kurt asked, his face stricken.
Burt nodded, beyond words.
Kurt dissolved into tears, and felt his father tremble and cry, too.
Two days later, Kurt's mother died. At the funeral, Burt held Kurt's hand so tightly it hurt, but Kurt just bit his lip and didn't say a word.
Thousands of people came to bid their queen goodbye and to offer the king and crown prince their sympathy. Kurt felt strangely numb. He'd stopped crying a while ago, and now he just stood there, next to his dad, white-faced and not fully taking in anything that happened or that was said. It all appeared muted, as if he were swimming underwater.
Burt shook hands, greeted everyone kindly and thanked them for their support at a time like this. When the queue dwindled at last, Kurt heaved a sigh of relief. He was cold and tired and hungry and just wanted to get away from everyone.
Just then, Burt stiffened, and Kurt peeked at him curiously. Burt's jaw was set, and he seemed very ill at ease.
Kurt looked at the people who had just greeted his dad. A father and a son. The son was maybe a few years older than Kurt, and grinned at Kurt as though he didn't have a care in the world.
The father was now murmuring words of comfort to Burt, who didn't seem comforted by them in the least. Burt was wound tight, his lips pressed together in a thin line and his eyes steadfastly on the man talking to him, without blinking even once.
What was the man saying that made Burt both furious and scared at the same time? Kurt pricked up his ears.
"We would have been only too happy to help," the man assured Burt, his voice smooth and unctuous.
Burt nodded jerkily and forced out a thank you.
"And this is your son?" the man inquired, putting a long white finger under Kurt's chin to make him look up.
Kurt felt Burt bristle next to him, but his dad kept his temper under control and only said, in an even tone, "Yes, this is Kurt."
The man smiled at Kurt, and though his face was handsome and his smile beautiful, Kurt felt uneasy. "Lovely. He takes after your late wife."
Burt's breath hitched. "Yes. Yes, he does."
"Well, should you ever need our services, you know how to contact us," the man said, and again, Burt nodded jerkily and forced out a thank you.
Later that day, Kurt asked his father, "Who was that man? The one who made you angry?"
Burt stiffened, and then let out a deep sigh. "That was Andrew Smythe. He's an ifrit."
Kurt's mouth fell open. "Oh…"
"Yes, oh…" Burt snapped. "He had no right touching you, greedy son-of-…"
Burt took one look at his son, who now looked terrified, and swept him up in a hug. "He won't bug us again, kiddo, don't worry. Not as long as I live, and I'm not planning on dying anytime soon."
Kurt breathed in the comforting smell of his dad, and his heart-rate slowed down again. Everything would be all right. Even without his mom.
K&B
Lima, November 1949
"Well?" Kurt prompted as soon as the doctor came out of his father's bedroom.
The doctor sighed. "Well, your highness, unfortunately, it looks like your father has contracted the same disease your mother died of. And, like your mother, the king waited too long to call on me. The disease is in its advanced stages already. There isn't much I can do."
Kurt blanched. "No!"
"I'm sorry, your highness. Your father will be greatly missed."
Kurt shook his head obstinately. "No. No, no, no. Dad can't die. He just CAN'T."
Kurt made to enter his dad's bedroom, but the doctor was quick to stop him. "No, your highness. You're all the kingdom has left now. We need you to stay healthy and rule in your father's stead."
"B-b-but…" Kurt spluttered.
"If you go in there without taking the necessary precautions," the doctor gestured to the mask and gloves he was wearing, covering every bit of skin, "you'll contract the disease immediately. It's very contagious."
"Then tell me what to put on so that I'll be safe," Kurt insisted. "I have to see my dad. I HAVE to."
The doctor pursed his lips in disapproval and was about to launch into another spiel about how dangerous it was when he caught sight of Kurt's death glare and clamped his mouth shut. He rummaged in his bag and got out a pair of sterile gloves and a mask for Kurt to wear. "If you're sure, your highness… I would advise against it."
Kurt just threw the man another glare, quickly put the protective gear on and slipped inside the room. Immediately, the stench overwhelmed him. Ugh, what kind of disease was this?
He could see that Burt's eyes were closed, and he approached cautiously, not wanting to wake up his dad if he was sleeping. But as soon as he stood next to the bed, Burt's eyes flew open.
"Hi, Dad," Kurt said softly.
Burt shot up in alarm. "Kurt, get out of here! You'll get ill, too!"
Kurt gently pushed his dad down again and pointed to his gloves. "I'm being careful. See?"
Burt groaned.
"So the doctor says you have what Mom had," Kurt said conversationally. "And he says you're going to die."
Burt sighed. "Yes. This sickness… It makes you waste away until there's nothing left of you."
"So I thought it might be time to contact those ifrit," Kurt continued, his voice upbeat, though he felt anything but.
"No!" Burt shouted, his eyes bulging out and his hand gripping the blankets so hard his knuckles went white. "Are you crazy?"
"Maybe I am," Kurt agreed calmly. "But I'd rather not become an orphan at sixteen."
"You'd rather be a slave instead?" Burt raged.
"Yes," Kurt said. "I'd do whatever I had to do to keep you happy and healthy."
Burt stared at Kurt for quite some time, a peculiar expression on his face. Then he mumbled, "Shouldn't it be the parent saying that to his child?"
Kurt's stance softened somewhat, and he took his father's hand in his. "I want to help you. I want to save you. You said those ifrit could make that happen. I don't care what they ask in return. Please. Please, Dad, let me do this."
Burt gave Kurt a piercing look. Then, seemingly satisfied by what he saw, Burt sat up against the headboard and tugged his wedding ring off his finger. "You always were the most stubborn of us all. Got that from both Lizzie and me, and you're about ten times as bad as either of us."
Burt handed the ring to Kurt, who looked at the lumpy black-and-silver thing decorated with a big six-pointed star, bemused. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
"Summon the ifrit, of course," Burt shrugged. "Put it on your ring finger, turn it around counterclockwise and then say 'vayzn zikh', and they should appear."
"Vay what?" Kurt asked, slipping the ring onto his finger.
"Vayzn zikh," Burt repeated. "It's Yiddish for 'show yourself'. The ifrit answer to that."
"Why can't I just say it in English?" Kurt grumbled.
"Because this is the Seal of Solomon. And Solomon was a Jewish king."
"For real?" Kurt blurted out.
Burt raised his eyebrows. "For real, yeah. Comes from your Mom's family. Her grandfather prided himself on being descended straight from the House of David."
Kurt cocked his head to the side. "Right."
"Now get on with it, if you really want to do this," Burt ordered. "Won't be much use if I'm already dead by the time you get 'round to the summoning."
Kurt looked at Burt, aghast, and was relieved to see him grinning.
"Vayzn zikh," Burt prompted.
"All right, all right," Kurt said. He turned the ring and said the words. A wisp of smoke came from the ring. It grew and grew until the room was filled with smoke and Kurt could no longer see his dad and had trouble breathing. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the smoke disappeared again, and a tall young man stood before Kurt. Was this an ifrit, then? He looked way too normal for that. Like a frat boy, actually. An over-privileged brat with a Roman numeral behind his name, a trust fund and an ego that was visible from space.
"You called me, owner of the Seal?" the frat boy said. He looked bored.
Kurt's eyes flicked to Burt - because Burt was the owner of the Seal, wasn't he? - but Burt just nodded encouragingly.
All right, then… First things first.
"My name's Kurt," Kurt said, feeling out of his depth. "Kurt Hummel."
The frat boy rolled his eyes. "Sebastian Smythe. Pleasure. Now can we be done with the niceties and get down to business?"
Kurt swallowed a sassy retort, and replied, "Could you please make my father better and guarantee him a long and healthy life?"
Sebastian smirked. "Course I can. Question is, what do I get in return?"
Kurt twisted his hands. "Anything."
Sebastian hummed. "All right then. A hundred years of servitude will do."
"No!" Burt shouted.
Sebastian quirked an eyebrow at Burt and then turned to Kurt again. "So? Do we have a deal?"
Kurt's throat felt dry all of a sudden, and his eyes pricked. One hundred years without his dad? Being made to do who knows what? That was a steep price for saving his dad. Yet… It wasn't even half of his lifetime, if he lived to old age. With a bit of luck, a fae could become 250 years old.
Kurt took a deep breath and nodded. "Deal."
"Shake on it," Sebastian demanded, holding out his right hand.
Kurt shook hands with Sebastian, and for a moment, a ring of fire appeared around their clasped hands. Sebastian looked at it with satisfaction and then let go of Kurt's hand. The fire disappeared, leaving nothing but a sulphuric smell behind.
"All right then, let's see," Sebastian smirked. He stepped up to Burt's bedside and laid a hand on Burt's stomach. A warm golden glow spread over Burt's entire body, enveloping him in light. Burt let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes.
"Dad!" Kurt yelled in alarm, and Sebastian rolled his eyes again and told Kurt to stop panicking.
Not even five minutes later, Burt was in perfect health again and got up from his bed.
"Thank you," Kurt said to Sebastian. "Can I please say goodbye to my father before I have to leave?"
"Seriously?" Sebastian snapped. "What are you, a little kid? What idiot gave you that Seal? It's WASTED on you!"
Kurt just looked at him pleadingly, and after a beat, Sebastian shrugged. "Okay, sure. If you don't take too long."
Kurt rushed to his dad and hugged him tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay."
"Yes, I am," Burt grumbled, "but will you be?"
"I'll be fine," Kurt assured his dad with more confidence than he actually felt. "Just hang in there, and I'll be back before you know it."
Burt snorted. "What? You're going to make me sleep for a hundred years? I'm no Sleeping Beauty."
That coaxed a giggle out of Kurt.
"I'll be fine, Dad, really," Kurt repeated, not sure if he was reassuring himself or his dad with his words.
Burt kissed the top of Kurt's head. "Thanks, kiddo. Thanks for being braver than I was."
"I couldn't bear to lose you," Kurt admitted. "Bye, Dad."
"Bye, son," Burt forced out, tightening his hold on Kurt for a moment and then letting him go.
Kurt stepped out of the embrace, lifted his chin and announced, "I'm ready."
Sebastian nodded, took him by the arm and made the two of them disappear in a swirl of smoke.
K&B
Westerville, April 1952
Being a servant of Sebastian's, Kurt found, required waiting on the ifrit hand and foot. Sebastian WAS like a frat boy. A disgusting and lazy and always hungry and thirsty frat boy. Kurt prepared Sebastian's meals, brought him beer and snacks when he was watching football or playing foosball, did his laundry and ironing, cleaned his apartment and changed his bedding every day and sometimes more than once, if necessary.
Sebastian liked sex. That much was obvious. He had a lot of it, with a lot of different partners. Kurt was always told to make himself scarce while Sebastian was getting it on with yet another guy, and then called back in to clean up as soon as the guy had left.
After three years of service, Kurt now no longer lifted an eyebrow when he found semen in the fruit bowl, on the ceiling fan or smeared against the living room wall. He just cleaned it all up as quickly and efficiently as he could and then slunk away to the utility room, where he slept on an inflatable mattress.
One day, though, the routine Kurt had grown used to was disrupted when Sebastian hooked up with a guy that didn't satisfy him. The first sign Kurt got of that was Sebastian howling in pain, and moments later, Sebastian thundered through the living room, holding the guy by the scruff of his neck, both of them buck-naked. Kurt, who was preparing dinner in the open kitchen, saw Sebastian yank open the front door and throw the guy out.
"My clothes!" the guy pleaded, but Sebastian slammed the door closed without paying any attention to that.
Sebastian turned around, scowling. Kurt hastily retreated further into the kitchen, thinking of hiding in the pantry until Sebastian's temper tantrum was over. That, however, drew Sebastian's attention. His eyes zoomed in on his servant and an evil smirk appeared on his face.
Kurt tried to sneak into the pantry unobtrusively, his heart hammering. Sebastian, however, wasn't having that, and stalked into the kitchen, following Kurt.
"Now where do you think you're going, princess?" Sebastian purred. "Maybe it's time to add a new job to your workload? Hmm, I'm not much into twinks, but since you lost your baby fat and filled out a little, you don't look as much of a girl as you did before. And your butt's quite nice, as butts go."
Dread washed over Kurt, instant and sickening.
No, please no!
Kurt didn't realise he'd spoken those words out loud until Sebastian crowded into his personal space, chuckling. "Still a virgin, are you? Don't worry, princess, you'll get used to it soon enough!"
When he felt Sebastian's breath wash over him, Kurt backed up against the wall and curled up into a little ball there, his only thought, No, no, no, this can't be happening!
"You can start by blowing me!" Sebastian commanded, and he grabbed Kurt by the hair and tugged him towards his erection. All of a sudden, a force not his own swept through Kurt and made Sebastian release his grip on Kurt's head and jump back as though he'd been burnt or electrocuted.
Sebastian gaped at Kurt for a moment. "You're one of those soulmate weirdoes!"
"I'm sorry, what?" Kurt asked, completely non-plussed.
"I thought that was just an old wives' tale!" Sebastian muttered to himself, and then scoffed, a bit louder, "Two halves of a whole. Meant for each other. Protected from anyone else. Who believes in that sort of mumbo-jumbo?"
Sebastian glared at Kurt, who shrank back, his hands in front of him in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as you're gonna be," Sebastian growled. "You swore to be my servant for a hundred years. And now you're not obeying my orders! I can't have that!"
"But…" Kurt protested feebly. "I can't help it! If I could obey, I would. I gave you my word."
"Yes, you did!" Sebastian hissed. "And now you're not keeping your end of the deal! You TRICKED me!"
To his alarm, Kurt saw Sebastian grow, grow, grow. The ifrit morphed into a form that was far from human. He became a fiery spirit that filled the entire room, half shadow, half flame, roaring like a wildfire and sucking all the oxygen out of the air until Kurt was choking. Kurt cowered away and gasped for breath, red spots swimming in his vision.
At some point, Kurt must have blacked out. When he came to, Sebastian was hovering over him, back in his human form and smirking at Kurt in a way that made his blood run cold.
"So you're waiting for your soulmate, are you?" Sebastian sing-songed, his voice syrupy. "How sweet. Well, far be it from me to make you do anything else but WAIT. That wouldn't be very nice of me, now, would it?"
Kurt, feeling very groggy, only blinked in answer.
"No, it wouldn't," Sebastian answered himself. "So what I'm going to do is… I'm going to set you free. Isn't that nice of me? After only three years, too!"
Kurt blinked again, his brain too fuzzy to make sense of what Sebastian was saying.
"And just so no-one makes the same mistake I made," Sebastian continued, "I'm going to protect you from anyone with bad intentions. Isn't that nice of me? I'm going to make it very obvious that though they can look all they want, they can't touch."
Kurt gaped at Sebastian stupidly.
What on earth is he getting at?
Sebastian stretched his arms out towards Kurt, palms up as though he were warming himself by the fire, and recited an incantation in an unfamiliar language. Kurt felt himself shrink into a much smaller size, and before he could run away, Sebastian threw him into something rectangular, and Kurt lost the use of his arms and legs. He simply couldn't move anymore.
"There you go," Sebastian simpered. "Pretty as a picture - because now you are a picture! Such a lifelike painting, wow, it's beautiful!"
What? I'm trapped inside a painting?
"And now, I think I'm going to put this painting somewhere outside the fairy realm, 'cause we wouldn't want your daddy dearest to find you before your soulmate does, now, would we?" Sebastian mused.
Sebastian snapped his fingers. "I've got it. The Delaneys! Their cousin charged me to banish them from the fairy realm 'cause he wants to inherit their grandfather's fortune and powers. So I'll move the Delaneys to the non-magical Westerville and put this painting and a few others in the house they live in. As soon as I've banished them, they'll repel magic, so it's not like they'll ever notice anything special about your portrait, princess!"
Kurt could only look on in horror as Sebastian summoned the Delaneys, stripped them of all magic and established them in a house where his portrait hung in the spare bedroom.
Before Sebastian left the house, he smirked and winked at Kurt. "Only true love will save you now, princess. Good luck finding your soulmate here!"