Rumors in the small village of Lima, miles and miles away from Westerville, were not uncommon. In fact, they were almost always present. Dressed in rags and while going about their day's business, the inhabitants of Lima would often whisper about whatever gossip was going around town. It distracted them from the fact that they were, well, poor.

However, these rumors were seldom true. Kurt Hummel had heard enough of these false (and sometimes scathing) rumors for a lifetime, thank you very much.

So when Mercedes Jones approached him with a frenzied look last Friday, grunting from exertion as she lugged a bucket of water down the cobblestone road, he paid her little mind. Kurt was well versed in tuning out Mercedes' obsessive gossip; she had far too much time on her hands, and he had work to get done.

"…The Prince! Can you believe it Kurt? Hello? Anybody home?"

She made a motion to dump the water on his head, but Kurt was fast, and dodged the bucket, so that the liquid splashed onto the ground. He rolled his eyes, but then raised a quizzical eyebrow. No one ever spoke of royalty in Lima. It was considered disrespectful to even utter the names of the ruling family. He never got that rule (why should they be any better than the rest of us?), but never challenged it regardless. Kurt was enough of an outcast as it was, without questioning the common accepted social behavior of Lima.

"I'm sorry?"

"You made me spill!" Mercedes pouted, but continued nonetheless, "Prince Anderson is passing through! Here! In less than a month! It's so exciting! He's apparently on some tour of the kingdom, after all, his Majesty is getting old, and there's no doubt the Prince will become King soon. So he's travelling through the countryside to…"

Kurt tuned her out again. This was the most ridiculous rumor yet, he was sure. A Prince? In Lima? Please. He'd take one look and run for cover, Kurt thought moodily. And then be whisked off in his carraige. There's no way an Anderson would survive one second in this town.

"Cedes, I have to get home. You know how she gets…"

"Oh, sorry Kurt! We'll talk more later, yes? Good seeing you!"

Kurt waved with his free hand and then lugged his own water bucket towards a neglected path veering off the main road. Here he'd walk for three miles, take the fork in the road, travel for another mile or so, and finally arrive at the small cottage he called home. He was used to the daily trip, so he didn't think much of it. He was used to dealing with a lot of things.

Except for his step-monst…step-mother. Kurt might never get used to her.

"Blaine! Son! Where have you run off to?"

Blaine removed his reading glasses and sighed. His father, though with good intentions, was often loud, boisterous, and most of the time drunk on his prized wine. It irked Blaine to no end, but it wasn't like he could do anything to change his father's behavior. After all, being king was a pretty big deal.

"He's in the study! He's reading something, don't ask me what, I don't know."

That would be Santana. Great. Wasn't he under specific orders not to be disturbed?

"Splendid!"

Blaine folded his hands and awaited the loud bang that would signify the ornate doors of the Library being opened. King Anderson took no care for the centuries-old wood carvings.

"Ah, Blaine my boy, there you are! We have many things to discuss, many things! Mind if I pull up a chair?"

Blaine nodded slightly, trying to rearrange his features into something other than a grimace. Once his father was seated across from Blaine with a thoughtful expression on his face, he cleared his throat and launched into what Blaine presumed to be a long-winded speech.

"Listen, son. Now, we all know I won't be around for long-"

"Father, don't say things like tha-"

"No, no, I'm being honest. You, as you are aware, are the heir to my throne. Once I pass on, everything in the kingdom is yours. And I mean everything. Not just Westerville. As you know, there are other areas as well. And obviously some are not as…affluent. Probably because we tax them so much!"

King Anderson let out an amused chuckle, and then cleared his throat once more.

"The point being, even though we don't normally associate with these…commoners…I would like you to see the rest of the kingdom before you come to power. After this, you never have to venture out of the palace or our glorious city again."

Blaine was good at controlling his emotions, but he was sure that an expression of shock dominated his features for a second. His father, however, was perceptive, and noticed this slip-up in Blaine's usual grim mask. The King grinned a very sly grin, and so Blaine determined that while his father was good at noticing things, he was not very good at interpreting them.

"Son, son! You misunderstand! You don't have to be nice about it! Assert your power! Make note of potential uprisings! The real main objective is to scope out the land. See what we can take without there being too many feelings hurt. I'm talking houses far away from towns, acres of land that no one will notice have changed hands. To use for our own profit, naturally. Kick those vermin to the curb. Show 'em who's boss, my boy! That being said, we dine at seven!"

"Of course, sir."

As the King nodded at his son, laughed loudly, and made an abrupt exit, Blaine let his mouth gape slightly. Banish people from their homes? Without a justifiable reason? Let them starve and die without a second thought?

Sure, Blaine was capable of a lot of terrible things. Growing up in an environment like this one, with a father like his, he had to be.

But he wasn't sure he was capable of this.

Kurt inhaled sharply through his nose as he pushed open the worn wooden door that had the word tailor scrawled across the top. He knew Carole was home, and he was mentally preparing himself for an onslaught of insults. No sooner had he entered the cramped sitting room that that high-pitched, annoying voice resounded off the brick walls.

"Kurt! Dear! You're home! Thank goodness, I was worried that you had gotten hurt…However, now that you're here, I'm just worried about why it's taken you so long. Town's not that far, dear! Now give me that pail. I need to soak my feet! It better be warm, boy, or else you'll need to get some more…"

Kurt bit his lip to keep from saying anything that would probably get him in trouble later and settled for rolling his eyes.

"Mama-" (God, he hated that he had to call the she-witch that) "-you know we need this water for dinner. I'm making soup."

Carole gasped loudly and placed a hand over her chest. Kurt concluded that this reaction was almost as ridiculous as her tacky hairdo. (Sure, they were poor, but she could have done something better than that rat's nest that was currently sitting atop her head.)

"Well that simply will not do. Just get some more."

Kurt wasn't necessarily surprised by this command, but his eyes still flashed with anger.

"No. I'm tired, and I have clothes to work on. So no, I do not have the time or patience to accommodate your foot bath."

Carole stood up from the chair she was lounging in and gave Kurt a look of utter hatred. He did not flinch, he refused to show any sign that she was getting to him.

"You insolent, bratty, little boy. If you plan to live under my roof-"

"This is my house!"

"Not since your poor, delusional father left it and all his possessions – and you, unfortunately – to me. So this is all mine. Go to your room, you are dismissed until supper. Finn will be home with the vegetables shortly."

"I am not your servant."

Kurt turned on his heel and held his head high as he pulled the ladder that led to the attic down from the ceiling. Yes, while Carole and Finn got to enjoy the comforts of actually having a room with suitable living conditions, Kurt was stuck in this tiny, drafty attic. The winters were brutal, the summers were sweltering, and he had nothing but his sewing needles and whatever clothes of the neighbors that needed mending to keep him company. He huffed and flopped onto his uncomfortable bed, willing himself to stay positive.

After all, according to Mercedes, a "prince was coming".

Yeah, right.

"Got everything packed, Blainers?"

"Just about. I still don't know how you managed to tag along."

"Big daddy decided that you needed some company. I'm pretty sure he meant you needed a girlfriend."

Blaine and Santana both chuckled a little at that. Yes, the thought of them dating was very amusing indeed.

"Of course, I'd probably need to acquire some male genitalia before you'd go for me, but…"

"San! Shh! People might hear you!"

Santana huffed, but put a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder just the same. He abandoned any thought of getting his belongings together for the upcoming journey and put his head on his best friend's shoulder.

"I don't want to do this."

"I know, Blaine. Believe me, I know you better than anyone. But I don't see how you're going to weasel your way out of this. Just try to make the most of it. And I'll be there. Which should automatically brighten your outlook."

Blaine pulled Santana into desperate hug and tried to smile, but ultimately failed. Not even the biting humor of Santana Lopez could keep his current worries at bay.

A/N: This idea absolutely would not leave my head. Stupid persistent plot bunnies.

Just to clear things up, I adore Carole, but I had to alter her personality to fit the storyline. Sorry!

Obviously, once Kurt and Blaine interact, there will be Klaine. I just needed to establish some history first.

Please let me know what you think! Reviews are always appreciated!

- M -