A/N: Kurt takes it upon himself to fight a duel to defend his sister-in-law Rachel's honor against Hunter Clarington. Warning for mention of major character death (Finn, Burt, and Carole) which all happened in the past.
Kurt straightens his coat, watching the seams fall into place. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and sighs. It's a fine suit – a beautifully tailored black brocade coat (designed and constructed by none other than his own talented hands) over one of his best dress shirts. He doesn't relish the idea of getting blood all over it – his or someone else's, but it would be a fine suit to die in, if the situation warrants it.
"No, please!" Rachel cries, stumbling over the long hem of her dress to reach her best friend. Kurt moves quickly and catches the pregnant woman in his arms. "Don't do this, Kurt! Please! I'm begging you!"
"Oh, Rachel…honey," Kurt shushes, smoothing a hand down the waves of her long, dark hair, "sweetie, worry not. It will be over and done with in a matter of minutes, and then I'll come home."
"But, he'll kill you!" Rachel sobs, her chest heaving beneath her maternity corset.
"Shhh…" Kurt continues to soothe his friend. "Please, Rachel, be calm. Think about the baby."
"And what of the baby's father?" Rachel whimpers, looking up to meet Kurt's somber blue eyes. "What about Finn? Hunter's men have already killed him, and they will kill you, too."
"All the more reason why I must do this," Kurt explains, walking a trembling Rachel over to a nearby sofa and setting her gently down in it. "How many times has that scoundrel Hunter Clarington tried to have you for his own? And Finn – poor precious Finn – set upon by five armed men in defense of your honor." Kurt sighs at the thought of his stepbrother, alone in the dark, trying to defend himself against so many men with swords when he himself was without.
His brother was a decent fighter, but he didn't have a chance – set upon without any warning. Hunter made sure of that.
Now, Kurt has no choice. He needs to end this – for Rachel, for Finn, and for their baby.
"But, we can pay him?" Rachel reasons. "Surely he has a price. All men do."
"Not Hunter. He has more money than he needs," Kurt says. He's ashamed to admit that he himself had thought of that, but no. Hunter does not delight in money. He has almost too much of it. What he enjoys is sport – and his sort of sport includes humiliation and pain. For so long he had haunted Rachel's steps. For so long he wanted her for his own. When she chose a middle merchant's son over his vast wealth, he was furious, and he made it his sole goal to make Rachel's life hell on earth.
Kurt looks down at Rachel who has been gazing up at him hopefully through his long, contemplative silence.
"My dear," he says, dropping a kiss into her rose-scented locks, "this is an honor duel. One man against one man. I know most of Hunter's hired blades, and I dare say not a one is as good as me. One on one, I can best them all."
Kurt hopes he sounds convincing – more so than he feels.
"But, you yourself have just found love, Kurt," Rachel begs.
"All the more reason for me to return without a scratch," Kurt assures her.
Kurt wishes she wouldn't have mentioned him.
Sebastian.
Going through with this duel is hard enough without having to think about losing Sebastian.
What a beautiful man to drop into his life out of the blue at such an ill and inopportune time.
Kurt already knows without being reminded that it is of Sebastian's gorgeous green eyes and his sinful lips whispering so many sweet promises that Kurt will be thinking of if today he meets his end.
Kurt hugs Rachel tight in his arms.
"I love you, Rachel Berry," he says with all of the affection of a brother for a sister. "I love you so very much. Please, remember that, no matter what happens today."
"Oh, Kurt," Rachel wails. "I love you, too. Don't leave me! Whatever you do, whatever it takes, you have to live! Don't leave me and my baby alone!"
"I promise," Kurt says, motioning to the nurse who enters the room at the sound of Rachel's despondent cry, "whatever it takes, I will win this." Kurt pulls away and looks into his best friend's watery brown eyes. "I will come home to you."
"I will hold you to that," Rachel says, placing a palm to Kurt's cheek and a kiss to his lips. "I will hold you to that promise."
The nurse helps Rachel to her feet and leads her from the room, whispering soothing sentiments that only Rachel can hear, though Kurt knows them all. They are the same platitudes everyone has been spoon feeding the poor girl from the moment Hunter first tried to lay his claim on her, and then again when poor Finn was killed. Nobody wants to hurt her more but the cold truth is that this is not a perfect world, nor is it kind or caring. People can be cruel and heartless and self-serving, and today on the snow that covers the cathedral courtyard, Kurt Hummel may very well die defending her honor...and there would be no one left to keep the wolves away from her and her newborn baby.
Kurt looks once more in the mirror, standing up straight and shrugging off the weight that has begun to sag his shoulders. He meets his own blue eyes, glaring at his image until they turn ice cold and murderous.
"I am Kurt Hummel," he says in a clear, steady voice to his own visage, "and no matter what, I will win. Come what may, I will return to Hudson Hall alive."
Kurt fixes a mask over his face, obscuring all but his mouth and his eyes. It is a pale blue color like the peaceful sky above, a reminder of all the loved ones he has lost who now look down on him from the heavens above: his mother, his father, his brother, and most recently, his stepmother. He throws a cape over his shoulders and picks up the narrow, mahogany coffin that holds his dueling sword. Alone and without another word of farewell (as faith dictates who lives and who dies), he leaves the house of his sister-in-law quickly in hopes of making a speedy return.
Kurt opts for the walk and not his carriage as he makes his way to the square, to stretch his legs and settle his nerves. He has no doubts in his abilities, but he doesn't look forward to the prospect of taking a life…and, of course, there's always that chance that he will fall.
But he doesn't dwell on that. He can already hear Hunter and his goons chortling from the courtyard just inside the church gates, and he focuses his mind on other things to shut those foul voices out: on his stance, on the weight of his steel, on the flexibility of his wrist, on the soles of his shoes gripping the icy ground. He hates fighting in snow - he always has. He puts a hand over his purse and feels its weight - just enough money to pay the vicar for overseeing this whole affair…and for bloodying his courtyard.
Kurt keeps his eyes cast down as he comes upon the scene, the voices quieting at his approach, eyes watching him and lips curled into sneers that he can feel on his skin. He refuses to look at them, or their champion, as is custom. The mob of four villains have occupied the north corner, so he will take the south, and waiting for him there is his sole witness, his stepbrother's best man, Noah Puckerman.
"Kurt," the man says, already his voice apologetic. Noah embraces Kurt, and Kurt hugs him back. "You know, it really should be me fighting this duel for Berry, not you."
"Truly," Kurt says with a chuckle, letting the man go and looking into his eyes, "and what would I say to your wife, Quinn, and your daughter, Beth, when I carried your bloody corpse back to your home?"
"My skill with a sword is not so bad," Noah says, affronted at Kurt's joke.
"No, but you could still die, my friend," Kurt says. "And…you would die."
Kurt and Noah laugh, holding each other still. A mocking laugh echoes from the opposite end of the courtyard.
"If you ladies are done cuddling, can we get this duel started?" a sour voice taunts. "I have a whore waiting for me at home and I'd really like to get back to her before my wife returns from her mother's."
Kurt rolls his eyes at the faceless voice and its crass comments. It's a voice he's never heard before - another expendable hired man rallying to Hunter's cause.
Kurt wonders if this is the man he will have the pleasure of killing today.
A comforting hand rests on Kurt's shoulders, and immediately he is brought to mind of Sebastian the last time he saw him – his white shirt open at the collar, lips swollen from a dozen kisses, smiling, laughing at the blush that rose to Kurt's cheeks when he told Kurt that he loved him – that he could see loving him for the rest of his life.
He turns with hope in his eyes only to see a warm, aged face looking back at him - the vicar, saying a prayer on Kurt's behalf, but also waiting for his payment.
Kurt puts down his sword box on a nearby ledge and reaches into his pocket to pull out his purse.
"I deeply apologize for whatever happens here today," Kurt says with a slight bow of his head, handing over the silk tied sack of gold coins. "I hope this is enough for the trouble we are causing you."
"Bless you, my son," the man says. To his benefit, he doesn't dishonor himself by counting the money in front of Kurt. "May God have mercy on your soul."
"I pray that he does," Kurt says with a smile, watching the man turn and toddle away through the snow.
"Well, I guess that's that," Noah says, replacing the vicar's hand with his own. "They'll want to start now."
Kurt nods. He undoes the tie of his cape and Noah takes it from his shoulders. Kurt opens the box that holds his sword and lifts it from its velvet nest. He looks down the edge of shimmering steel, and as it catches the sunlight and winks, he steels himself.
He needs to win this and have it be over so he can get back to his life…and his love.
With his head bowed, Noah leads Kurt to the center of the courtyard where Hunter waits with his champion already prepared to duel. Both men stare at the ground at their feet as the vicar recites one last prayer – on the swordsman, on the company, on those who have gathered on the outskirts to jeer and witness and place their bets. Kurt hears the words but they mean nothing to him. He is the master of his own destiny. No kindly old grandfather has ever guided his steps, though he has to admit to speaking to him from time to time, just in case he does exist. He focuses on the clean white snow, holding the image of its glittering purity before it becomes tainted and grotesque.
He will win this duel.
He will avenge his brother.
He will return to his sister.
And he will ask Sebastian for his hand in marriage.
His life will be set.
He will do this. No invisible God will do this for him.
"So, are we going to do this, princess," the champion behind the other mask on Hunter's side of the courtyard says, "or do you need another moment to stare at the ground?"
Kurt swallows hard.
What?
That voice. That voice hits Kurt's ears and steals away every last breath.
It stops his heart and freezes his blood as if it has already been spilled in the snow.
Kurt feels his body shake and his knees go weak.
Oh, no. Oh, please, God, no…
Kurt can't think of anything to say, so he says the only word that matters to him.
"Sebastian?"
The other man's taunting chuckle stops.
Two heads snap up.
Two pairs of wide, stunned eyes meet.
Two masks fall to the ground.
The look on Sebastian's mortified face is a perfect match to Kurt's own look of horror.
Standing beside his champion, Hunter grins like the bloodthirsty jackal he is - cruel and vicious and satisfied with his plan.
"Oh," he says, feigning surprise, "I see you know one another."