Rating: R (not rated for sexual content)
Warnings: Some minor character death. But keep in mind it's a fairy tale so don't be too frightened.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of it's characters.
Words: 8,873
A/N: I did something off the beaten path and went for a French fairy tale I'd never heard of. But I think I did okay.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
In the spring, back when honeysuckle and jasmine still swept the path towards the greater villages, Burt Hummel met the most beautiful woman this world had yet to see. She was young and fair, the daughter of a bard. Burt courted her in secret for many months before telling her his deepest secret. She had not known he was a prince. Nor that he was soon to inherit the very land where she lived. Elizabeth took his word with grace and accepted his hand in marriage. No sooner had she said yes was she swept away into the palace and taught the finer points of living as a royal. There were days when she yearned to leave the stuffiness of the castle and travel scarcely beaten paths as she had done with her father. The loving gaze of her fiance quelled her ire every time.
In time they wed and conceived many children. It was a sadness unlike any other that of the dozen children they conceived, only one survived. A son who they had named Kurt. He was as fair as his mother and as cunning as an imp. The kingdom adored him. Not a villager went by who did not wish him well and hope to make his day brighter. Tale of Kurt's beauty and nature traveled from village to village, kingdom to kingdom until it seemed there was no one in their great land who had not heard of young Prince Kurt.
This would be his curse. It was not just the people of the lands who had heard of Kurt. The creatures too had come to know of the prince. Most were happy to leave him be, as he was nothing but a mortal, doomed to grow old and die in the space of one fairy's breath. Others sought to catch a glimpse of him if for nothing else to cure their boredom. One could not be satisfied with a simple look. With stories. And so on the eve of Kurt's sixteenth year this creature approached the castle. His name was Karofsky and he desired nothing more than to make Kurt his own. By all accounts Karofsky could charge the castle and steal the boy as his own in the dead of night. But it would be difficult. King Hummel was no fool. He knew the desire that followed his son's every move and was careful to keep him safe from any who wished to do him harm. His attentiveness had awarded Kurt a lifetime of safety.
No, in order to take Kurt as his own he would have to appeal to their human nature. So with a great shudder Karofsky morphed his form from a hideous ogre to that of a man. He was not the most attractive, not for the likes of the fair Kurt, but he would be able to pass through the castle without pause. And so he did. Karofsky made it through the main wall of the castle and into the corridors. He passed by grand tapestries that wove stories of the royal family and great warriors. He passed servants and maids, children, and apprentices, a tutor or two. He did not see Kurt, and though he was disappointed he was not surprised. Kurt was sure to be kept under strict supervision. It would not due to have him wander about and get captured by things like him.
When Karofsky came to the chambers that held the King and Queen he paused. Before him were a set of guards, four across that he could see. He could smell more hiding in the nooks and crannies of the grand hall. It would be easy to kill the men before him but it would surely frighten the young Prince. Instead Karofsky approaches the most elder guard and looks him dead in the eye. There his glamor is weak and the man can see the unnaturalness of his eyes.
"I demand an audience with the King and Queen."
"Who are you to demand an audience with His Royal Highness?"
Karofsky could see that man knew him for what he was. It was laughable that he would chose to honor his post in the face of such horror, so Karofsky humored him. "I have come to ask for the Prince's hand." A murmur broke out among the guards. It was not unheard of for men to ask for the hands of others. It was done among the peasants at least once a spring but for an Ogre to ask for the Prince's hand? The guards could see no future more far fetched.
It was for this precise reason that a guard escorted Karfosky into the main room to conference with the King. The guard stood solidly in front of the intruder and made his wishes known to the King and Queen. It was an ounce of trepidation and duty weighing heavily in his heart, that the guard also told of Karofsky's believed heritage. To the King's credit, he did not dither. Beside him the Queen sat stern, a beacon of calm. But the guard knew that beneath her calculating eyes laid a worried mother. He had worked for them for far too long. It was known among the older guardsmen that the King and Queen were in no rush to marry their only child.
"You wish to wed my son?"
"I do not wish. I demand. I will have your son."
"What offer have you up your sleeve to make this claim with such certainty?"
Karofsky tilted up his chin. He looked dead into the eyes of the King and removed his glamor. There was a stillness in the hall. It was as if the air had been sucked from the room. The people present in the chamber knew that an ogre asking for Kurt's hand would bring nothing but pain. The time of their blessed lives with the sunshine brought by the Prince were soon to end. "I will have your son by tomorrow's dawn."
"If he remains free of you?"
"I will bring my ogre's down upon this castle and your lands until no man, woman, or child has been spared of my wrath. Then I will have your son."
It was the Queen who broke the deafening silence. "There will be no war. I will send word to my son."
"You will not see your son again unless it is in my arms as I take him from here."
The Queen nodded. Her hand was tensed on her husband's knee. With her other hand she waved to a servant girl. She was darker skinned than most of the humans in this kingdom and had worked in the palace since she was a small girl. "Santana will speak with my son." She spared no glance at Santana. Any look, no matter how brief, would be seen as a passing of plans. The girl had been her servant long enough to know what her wishes would be.
Without a backwards glance to the ogre in the hall Santana hurried through the corridors to Kurt's private chambers. She ducked along hidden passageways and through servants quarters until she came to his room. It had a grand oak door decorated with dozens of carved birds. She wasted no time knocking and barged in. Kurt was not startled by her sudden appearance. Santana was one of his only friends, one of the few people deemed safe enough to be in his presence unescorted. Only once before had he seen a look of such wariness on her face. That had been when they were children, when she had first come to the palace.
"You must leave."
"Oh yes. Let us leave, with haste to the land of spices with only our bags and a pocket full of crackers." Kurt giggled at his joke and opened his arms for a hug. Santana did not come to him. His smile fell. "Have you some specific place in mind?"
"Kurt, you must leave. I will lead you away." Santana swept through the room like a hurricane, packing things into a ruck sack that they could share. Another servant girl was preparing a cloth full of cheeses for them to take as well. Once they were on foot they would catch their own food. "An ogre has demanded your hand. He will take you if he can. We must leave Kurt." The prince trembled before her but said nothing else against her wishes. He followed her quietly down to the kitchens to retrieve their meager sack of food and then through a tunnel he'd not been to before. It was clean, eerily so, as if dust was forbidden from touching the very surface of the stone. It lead steadily upward but kept close to the least used area of the castle.
The corridor opened to a silken yellow curtain. Santana pushed it aside with great haste, startling the demure woman sitting alone in the room. Kurt hovered near the door, unwilling to enter a strange woman's room uninvited. "An ogre wants Kurt. Make him forget. Make him desire someone else. Anyone or anything else. Give Kurt another face or take away the eyes of the ogre."
Kurt found his courage and stood beside Santana. "You are my fairy godmother? You live here? You have always lived here?" The red headed woman nodded her head and set aside her tea.
"I gave you the gift of song. I am deeply sorry. The ogre I can not help you with."
Santana drew herself to full height, teeth flashing like a hungry wolf. "Why not? Why can you not help this child?"
"I have not spoken with the King. I am allowed to remain here so long as I practice no magic without his consult. I can not help you until I've had an audience."
"An ogre is in audience with the King. He will seize Kurt's body at his first chance. There will be no audience for you!"
Emma's eyes widened but she made no move to stand. Her eyes traveled from Santana's angry form to Kurt's frighted face. "For how long do you expect my father to humor you once he's found you've refused to help me?"
"I am sorry. With no consult—" Kurt did not wait for her to finish. It was no great mystery why he had no seen her since his birth. Together they made their way to a corridor that lead under the castle and the lands surrounding. It's mouth was in the forest, near a babbling broke at the base of a grand birch. Santana made her way out first, then Kurt climbed out after her with less grace. Unlike Santana he had never lived beyond the castle walls. He had never foraged for his own food or made his own shelter. He had never gone a day without the assistance of another. His body trembled. It was only because she had known him for so long that Santana allowed him a moment of peace.
Kurt cried for his mother, whom he feared he would never see again. He cried for his bed which he feared he would never take comfort in again. He cried for his life which would never be the same again. But most of all he cried for his name, which he feared he would never be able to use again. He cried for too long. The ogre Karofsky had known the King and Queen would not give up their child so easily. He was not a fool either. Weeks were spent assessing the castle, finding the weak points, the passages, the people free to come and go. When the dark skinned servant girl left he bid his farewell to the King and Queen and made his way to the secret passages. It was sheer luck that he happened upon the birch tree not more than thirty minutes after they exited it.
Before he came upon them he made himself look as a man. His hope that the Prince would come to him willingly had not yet faded. The servant girl saw him first. How Karofsky wished to beat her face into a pulp. His reluctance was only in an effort to ease the Prince's transition. His Prince. His Prince turned and his face was a beauty Karofsky was not ready to see. He'd never been this close before. Kurt's skin was clear and fair, blotched with red now in sadness, his eyes as well. But beneath that they were a stunning mix of greens and blues. "My Kurt."
"I. Am. Not. Yours." Kurt spoke each word with certainty. His sadness and fear had bleed out with his tears. In its place was rage. "I will not give you my hand. My body. My soul. They are mine."
Karofsky's look of reverance became strained. "I command an army. I have a home, clothes and furs to keep you warm and beautiful. I am handsome."
"You are a swine not worth the dirt under my shoes. Your home is nothing compared to even my bath chambers. I wouldn't wear your barbaric pelts if you stitched me into them." Santana made to stop Kurt but Karofsky gripped the handle of an iron studded club and she stilled. "You are ugly. I have never had an uglier suitor. Your face is not worth the effort I would waste to look upon it. I—" Kurt paused, moth agape as the very air before Karofsky started to shiver. In the place where an oafish man once stood was a monster. A truly hideous monster of gray skin and tusk like teeth. His eyes bulged and his ears were a gnarled and tattered mess that curled up to his shiny bald head. Karofsky took a step forward, his great belly shaking with the movement, and Kurt fainted.
The world was a bitter place, cold and dark like the deep passages of the castle Kurt rarely used. He knew of it, heard of it when commoners sought an audience with his parents, but he had never seen it in life. Kurt had never lived a cursed life a bitter one. He had not suffered or wanted. He had not seen ugliness. Had not known fear. In his ignorance he had been curious. In his suffering he felt foolish. As he woke he had just enough time to come to this conclusion before he wished to sleep again. On one side Santana was curled around him. They were both lying on a bed of pelts. On his other side, just at the edge of the furs on a cold stone ground was the ogre. He looked no more pleasing than he had in the forest.
Kurt sat up straight and edged away. He had the proper attention to be frightened. Santana sat up behind him and tried to fight her way in front but Kurt paid her no mind. He was breathing harshly, pants and high pitched keens, hysterical cries. This could not be his life. He would not lie with this ogre in an intimate way. This creature would not see him bared, vulnerable. He could see the ogre's face morph into anger but his cries still came, unheeded and unrestrained. The ogre rose with a great roar and struck Kurt across the face, sending him to his side amongst the pelts. Santana threw herself on top of him but the ogre had moved his ire elsewhere. He kicked at his belongings and raged like a spoiled child. Then he grabbed a large tankard of mead from a table and stormed from his home, the club at his hip.
When the sounds of the ogres footsteps faded into nothing Santana roused Kurt, pulling him up by his shoulders. "You can escape. I have an idea that will set you free."
"For how long? How long will he hunt me? How long will I live a life looking backward?" Santana wiped the tears from his cheeks and looked him in the eye.
"I will set you free forever." She gestured down to the pelts underneath of them and the clunky sewing kit on the floor nearby. "I can sew you into a pelt and you can run. If you stay low to the ground you will look like an animal." Warily Kurt accepted her plan. Santana had always been shrewd and cunning, a great match for himself. But at the moment he was feeling useless. His nerves seemed to have chased most of his brains away.
"He will know I ran." Santana's brow furrowed but Kurt was already thinking. His eyes landed on a dirty knife. It was crusted with blood and bits of food, but it was better than any rock they'd find. "Cut me. Make him think he killed me and you've buried me."
"He's drinking. I can tell him he's eaten you. Then I will not have to produce a body."
"My bones?"
"He will be so angry he won't think to ask."
Kurt grabbed the sewing kit and handed it to Santana. The thread was a bulky twine that smelt as if it was soaked in some sort of fat. The needle was made of bone. She took it without hesitation and pulled a large pelt from the pile and instructed Kurt to lie on it. She sewed the middle shut, as tight as possible to keep it from slipping. She tightened what she could around his legs and arms, the fat covered twine cutting into his fair skin. She tied the bears head over Kurt's scalp, making a knot under his chin. As he sat up she seized the knife and pressed it to Kurt's throat.
"No. Gods above no. Please." Kurt began to weep. "It is all I have left."
Santana tapped the knife lightly against his throat. "I will not press deep. Just enough to bleed. If your throat is slashed you will be asked no questions." She did not wait for a concession and sliced. The pain searing through Kurt's neck paled in comparison to the pain in his heart.
In no time at all Santana had smeared his blood around the ogre's home and lead him away. Kurt bid her farewell with a lingering embrace and set out into the woods. He kept low to the ground and listened for water, lest the ogre could track him by smell. As the sun dipped below the tree line Kurt began to feel wrong. An uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach, followed closely by a burning across his scalp. It crept down his neck and settled in his belly like a molten fire then it shot through each of his limbs like lightning. Kurt collapsed into the foliage, panting. He could feel his skin melting and his nails growing, ripping from his nail beds. The pain was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, even the sting of the knife across his throat.
Time passed.
The trickling sound of a stream came to him after the ache in his legs dulled to a throb and the blood around his throat had congealed. He drug himself like a newborn babe to the stream ahead and collapsed on the bank. On shaking arms Kurt heaved himself up enough to look into the clear waters. He let out an anguished wail. Then a scream. One so mighty it could have been a roar. His looks had been stolen from him. The pelt had melded to his flesh. In places he looked more bear than human. His nails were great black talons and his canine teeth were thick and long, making it impossible to close his mouth properly. They grazed lips, cutting them. His nose had widened and thickened, the tip black and moist.
So lost in his rage, he did not hear the approach of another. It was his Fairy Godmother, the red headed woman who'd denied him help when he could still be saved. To make amends for her reluctance she conjured him a boat and placed a hand on his furred back. "Go my child, into the water. This leads to another kingdom where—"
"You! You have forsaken me. Banished me to a cursed life. Was the loss of my home not enough to sooth your wicked heart. You had to make me ugly, a beast!" Kurt's throat burned, his angry words ripping at the forming scab. Beside him Emma folded her hands over her stomach. She had not cursed him to be a bear but her inaction had lead to it.
"Go now. The ogre is hunting for bears. He will not hesitate to strike you down."
Tearing himself away from her helping hand, Kurt climbs into the boat and collapses on it. He lies in the bottom of the boat, bone weary and limp. Above him the moon is bright and full. It brings him no joy. He floats for some time. Not eating, not speaking, not sleeping. Kurt stares at the open sky above him and watches the trees fade from birches to narra trees. In his room there was a carved cat made from narra wood. It was heavier than it looked. He would never see it again. Perhaps now that he was a monster he could live alone in the forest and carve his own figurines.
Some time later Kurt's boat pushed ashore. The jolt startled Kurt from his somber haze. He pulled himself from the boat and drank greedily from the stream. When the burning dryness in his throat eased he ambled into the woods. His once graceful walk had diminished into an awkward lope and crawl. His legs refused to hold him upright and his fingers ached to claw at the ground. With a sob Kurt allowed his body to conform as it wanted and found himself traveling much faster. He came upon a berry bush and plucked what he could. Most of it smeared across his palms and face but he could not feel bad for his lack of decorum. When the berries were gone Kurt found that they had not sated his hunger. If anything the berries had ignited a need within him he had never felt before. It was a hunger unlike anything he'd ever known.
Among the groves of narra trees King Blaine walked in silence. He had come into his throne at an early age. His father took ill when he was only ten. Though he managed to hang on for some years his death was no less surprising. Many in the kingdom thought he would live another hundred years from spite alone. Blaine's elder brother Cooper had left just after he'd taken ill and the late King Robert had never forgiven him. It was his dearest wish that Cooper would return to him some day. He never did. Blaine's mother drifted away a short time after her husband's death, quite literally. One day she kissed Blaine upon his brow and walked into the woods. She never returned and as simply as that Blaine ascended to the throne at the tender age of twelve.
Though tragic, the love his mother and father shared inspired him. Thus far he had not found a single person in his kingdom who caught his fancy, who breathed a spark into his dim life. And so he walked among the narra trees, hoping to the gods that his mother's spirit would whisper to him. Today it seemed she would answer his prayers. Instead of taking his usual left, the path that would take him past a moss covered well, he took a right. This path strayed closer to the stream. He could hear rustling and perhaps a voice. It was soft. Blaine thought it could be a child. His people tended to avoid this grove of trees in respect for his mother but children were not always so cautious.
Blaine tread quietly until he came upon a great furred mass. At first glance it appeared to be a bear making a rabbit its meal. The snap of a twig under Blaine's boot heel had the creature turning. It was not a bear, not quite. It was unlike anything Blaine had seen before, a ghastly mix of man and beast. Curled in it's arms was a white rabbit, who despite the terrifying surroundings, looked quite content. Before Blaine's shocked eyes the beast wilted and began to weep. It released the rabbit and hugged it's middle before lurching forward until it's head touched the ground. The sounds coming from it were a mix of beastly growls and almost human sobs. It shook Blaine to his core. He had not asked this of his mother.
"Be still. I will not harm you." The beast continued to weep and howl. Even though Blaine had never seen a thing like it before he knew it's voice was strained, that his throat was raw. Blaine stepped closer, hands up in a symbol of peace, until he was toe to head with it. "I am the King of these lands. What are you." The beast did not speak but his sobs began to quiet.
"I...I.." The beast's mouth moved around a word but did not speak it. Blaine took it to be its name. He stepped back from the beast and knelt. Across his throat was a great festering gash. It could not speak.
"Come. You are filthy." The beast jerked as if struck but Blaine paid it no mind. "Come with me and I shall see to it you are cleaned and fed." Blaine grabbed the creature by the back of the neck and urged him up then forward. It staggered along with him, nearly falling to its knees several times. He pressed onward though, eager to have this creature, this half bear in his castle. They took a servants entrance in and Blaine's people cowered in fear of the creature, stopping to gasp and shriek as if passed by. Several covered their noses to block out the horrid stench rolling off of it in waves.
He took the creatures to a bathing room and urged it into some water. It was cold but clean. He enlisted the help of two maids late in their life who scrubbed the creature with persistent hands and blank faces. It took the bath in stride, though the pinkness in his face continued even after the blood had been scrubbed from his body. The slash across his throat was not terribly deep but infected. Blaine instructed the maids to wrap it and dry him off. Then he lead the beast into the kitchens. It could not hold a fork or spoon and stared rather dejectedly at the plate of food until Blaine took mercy on him.
Although the cooks made noises of shock Blaine continued. He fed the dejected creature bits of meat and fruit until it pressed weakly on his arms to stop him. Here, freshly washed and fed, this beast looked no more terrifying than a sleepy bear cub. It softened Blaine's heart even more until the though of turning it out pained him. He urged the creature up and lead him through the castle, still using the servants corridors, until he reached a great glass and wrought iron gazebo. "You will sleep here. No one shall trouble you." The creature looked to him with great wide eyes. "Do not leave this place." The look of thankfulness faded but it did not lash out against him, instead it made it's way into the gazebo and laid in the soft downy grass. Blaine let it rest and turned back into the castle.
He had traded one prison for another. Kurt lay in the grass, belly full and body clean, but felt no better for it. Blaine had taken him in and made him a pet. It was a sad situation he found himself in but even through his sorrow he could understand the goodness of it. At least while he had the King's fancy he would be fed and cared for. He was not as poorly off as Santana who at this current moment could very well be dead. Karofsky could have discovered the ruse and gone back to lay waste to his parents and kingdom. Kurt buried his head in the grass and wept for them.
And so it went for many days. Blaine would wake him in the gazebo and bring him food. He would speak to Kurt as one would a dog. Then at night Kurt would weep for his family and his home. He felt guilty for being in the new kingdom. He felt guilty for sorrow he had caused. But in the forefront of his mind, Kurt felt a curling pit of shame deep in his belly. For he was falling madly in love King Blaine. The man who treated him like a kept pet was his latest infatuation. He was a good man, a good king. He found endless time to interact with his kingdom, from the affluent merchants to the lowliest pauper. He greeted each day with a joy and eagerness that Kurt had not seen before. And by the gods could he sing. It was a rich voice that Kurt yearned to join. But he dared not speak, not ever, lest Blaine get curious and find his way to his kingdom and the vengeful ogre.
His love tortured him. Blaine saw him as nothing more than a disgusting beast, a curious creature. Nothing more. So long as Kurt looked like this his love would never be returned. And so long as the ogre remained alive Kurt could never give himself fully to another. He would not risk putting his loved ones in danger. It was one one night, when the moon was full, that Kurt's somber thoughts were interrupted for the first time. It was a yellow bird, a warbler, and it was fluttering around his head. Most animals fled from his presence, like they could sense the wrongness, the horror that followed him. But this bird perched on his stomach. And then he knew. It was his Fairy Godmother. She'd come to him again. Kurt swiped his hand across his stomach to shoo her away, narrowly missing her with his claws.
"What have you come for now? My sight? My memories? My voice perhaps? Well go ahead. I take no joy in any of them anymore. Just be done with it so that I may suffer in peace."
A voice, like the soft whisper of a dove, sounded in his very mind. "Kurt, I have come to make things right. I can not free you from this spell but I can ease your pain."
"You will make me a bear proper? Or erase my memories?"
"No child, I will give you the chance to look yourself. But only in the night. Each night as the moon reaches its peak you will be able to remove this pelt and become what you were. As the sun rises you must dawn the pelt again."
"Why must I return?"
"It is not my will. It is how things must be."
She waited for Kurt to accept the terms and then flew high above him, under her tiny yellow wings were almost beating against the glass roof. "So it is done. Until the dawn Kurt. Only until then." She was gone with the whisper of the breeze. The change began. A coolness flowed over Kurt's body. It started at the seams where the pelt melded with his body and it pulled it up. The fur puckered and receded like meat in a skillet until it was nothing more than a pelt. Kurt wrestled it from his body and tucked it into the corner of his gazebo.
His clothes felt stiff and stagnant but they were as clean as the rest of him and the skin beneath as well. Kurt ran his hands across his body, over every inch he could reach. Then with a great whoop he threw his hands in the air and smiled. He spent his first night dancing through Blaine's personal gardens and admiring his face in every reflection he could find. The sun rose for him much too soon. But for the first time in a long while Kurt had something to look forward to that did not bring crippling guilt to the front of his mind.
The joy in his eyes became apparent to Blaine who responded in kind. They were swept up in a whirlwind of happiness that even Kurt's looks could not diminish. It felt as if Blaine were falling in love with him. Which seemed as impossible as it did wonderful. Had Kurt been privy to Blaine's thoughts, he would learn that his assumptions were correct. Blaine was falling fast in love with what he assumed was a bear like creature. He watched each day as the creature started acting more human; as it grew more attentive to his stories and more invested in his surroundings.
Eventually it became too much for him. He could not court this creature. He could have no life with it. He needed to find a human to marry and settle down with. With his resolve hardened Blaine spent the next few days away from Kurt, visiting him only long enough to feed him. Then a distraction came. On a night when the moon was new and dark in the sky Blaine found himself unable to sleep. Thoughts of the creature haunted his dreams. So he woke and took a few quiet laps around his chambers. He stopped at his window and leaned out of it, looking across his grounds. He hadn't known that his late night wanderings would change his life.
There, on a marble slab of the walkway was a beautiful man. Or a boy. He was tall, with skin that shone in the moonlight and dark chestnut hair. Blaine stared, enraptured with the stranger for too many moments to count. Then the boy looked at him, a quick glance, then he was sprinting away. Running into the gardens like a nymph.
That was the beginning of Blaine's new obsession. No longer did he have to avoid the creature in his gazebo. He could pay equal attention to both of the beings in his heart because they could each take a different love. Though Blaine did not know who the boy was he was certain the boy came back every night. Sometimes in his dreams he would hear soft tinkling laughter that could only come from his stranger. Other times he would wake and peer from his window to see snatches of light cloth darting behind trees and around corners. It was as infuriating as it was gratifying. It took most of his night time hours, but Blaine devised a plan. No more would he wait in the wings to catch a mere glimpse of his mysterious stranger. No, he would wait in the gardens, hidden in his creature's gazebo until the boy made himself present. Then Blaine would approach and make his love known.
In his finest clothes Blaine crept out of his castle and into his garden. To his knowledge his creature had never disobeyed his order's to leave the gazebo and slept each night like as deeply as a drunken fool. Not being one to tempt the ill side of fate, Blaine entered on the side opposite that his creature favored. The plants here were exotic and varied and the grass beneath him almost plush enough to be spun wool. It was truly his favorite place, the most beautiful in his castle. That is why he allowed the beast to stay there, to show him that Blaine did not begrudge him for his looks. To show him the beauty in the world he might have missed. He allowed himself a moment to admire his plants before turning his attention to where he assumed his stranger would be.
To do so Blaine stepped around a cluster of plants clamoring for the sky and saw his creature. But he was not sleeping. It was on it's knees, watching the moon in the sky as if it was waiting for something. For what Blaine could not say. Except perhaps his creature too enjoyed the late night visits of the beautiful stranger. No, something was wrong. His creature was not waiting, he was in pain. Before Blaine's very eyes the beast began to quake and shudder, curling in on itself. It's skin seemed to ripple like waves before it slid down in a heap.
Blaine was in awe. His creature, the bear like monstrosity that he'd discovered coddling a rabbit was his beautiful stranger. The love he felt, the obsession, it had not abated, it had spread itself across the different halves of his beloved. Blaine moved forward. Just a step. The silence of their moment was shattered, given away by a stray twig. His creature, his stranger, jumped to attention. His lithe body tall and tense at the sight of an interloper. His body looked coiled to run and Blaine could not risk losing him.
"My love. I mean to say...you are my love. I love you." Blaine feared his stranger would say nothing in return. Had they not spent months together with nary a word between them? Could this boy never speak? He feared the worst, for silence was worse than a rejection. To be left unknowing of this boy's feelings was a purgatory he wished not to feel.
"Our love can not be."
Blaine surged forward, covering the distance between them in the space of a breath and clutched the boys shoulders. "It can. It is. I loved you as a creature. I love you as the stranger who steals through my gardens."
"We have not spoken."
"We have shared each day for many months. I have watched you watch me. I have seen the love in your eyes and it terrified me. I could not wed a beast in good conscience. Now that—"
"Now that I am beautiful I am acceptable?" Kurt tried to tear away but Blaine held firm.
"Now that I know you are cursed I will do everything in my power to free you, in hopes that one day you will return my love." Blaine expected a great many things to come from his creature at this confession. His name was not one of them.
"Kurt."
"Beg pardon?"
"If you wish to win my heart you must know the name which you call upon. Kurt."
"Kurt." Blaine rolled the name around his tongue like a lover. Kurt was the name of his beloved, his beast and his stranger. Kurt had stolen his heart and his dreams. Blaine moved his hands up from Kurt's shoulders to his face. He held Kurt there, feeling his warm skin under his fingers. His thumb traced over a plush bottom lip. Blaine leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Kurt's lips. It was gentle and warm. Too quick to be sure but the night was young. "The night is young."
"Hardly so when your body lives by the cycles. You may have me this way only until dawn."
Blaine pressed his forehead to Kurt's and spoke against his lips. "Then I shall have all of you. Marry me." Kurt shook and curled his hands around Blaine's elbows. "Marry me here in this gazebo and we shall have the nights as husbands and the days as companions. Our love will have no cycles, no pauses." Kurt licked his lips closed his eyes. "Marry me Kurt."
"Yes." It was a whisper, light and teary almost lost under Blaine's breath. But it was enough.
"Stay here. I shall wake the castle. I shall wake everyone I can. We will have a wedding here tonight." Blaine darted away, swift as the wind. He felt Kurt's hand stretch to hold onto him as long as possible but he felt little remorse for it. They would be wed tonight.
Blaine ran through the castle, yelling at the top of his lungs for everyone to rise. Every servant every tutor, every guard, every courtesan and courtier. He told them all to gather in the main hall, to bring only themselves and their love. He assembled them with ease and plucked the clergy men from the mass and led him to the front. "Tonight I wed the man of my dreams. Tonight in the garden."
An advisory, still heavy with sleep and shrouded in a thick velvet robe spoke out. "Tonight? To a man the court has never seen?"
"Tonight. My love has only the night for now. You will not begrudge our love. It is true. If you can not bring a smile to my ceremony, do not come at all."
The man shook his head and stepped back. "No M'lord. I will bring only the best of wishes to your ceremony."
Blaine gave no one else a chance to speak out and lead his court out into the gardens. Kurt was there, standing at the entrance looking like a specter of purity. Behind him the vivid red plants of the gazebo framed him better than any wedding altar ever could. Blaine hurried to him like a child and urged the priest to hurry. There, before his court and his castle King Blaine Devon Anderson wed Prince Kurtis Elijah Hummel. As they shared their first kiss as husband and husband a peculiar feeling settled in their bones. It was light and swift like a gust of wind. Behind them both the bear pelt dissolved into the ground until it was no more.
At Kurt's insistence Blaine did not give word that Kurt had been found to his old kingdom. Nor that he'd been wed. Their marriage was for their own kingdom and they were happier for it. And in two years time they had each fathered a beautiful child. Their sons became the inspiration for new gazebos and new plants. New beauty.
It was unfortunate then that beauty had a way of loosening tongues. Just as word of Kurt's beauty had done in his home kingdom, in this one too people talked. They spun tales of the moon god trapped on Earth who'd wed the smitten King. Of a beauty so surreal it was a gift of magic. News of Kurt and his new family eventually made it to other lands. And back to the ogre Karofsky who had once coveted him so.
Kingdoms away Karofsky heard word of a beautiful king. His followers called him Elijah. Karofsky was not so ready to believe. There could be no such beauty as Kurt had been. It must have been his prince. Had the servant girl shown him bones? No. No, he had taken her word for it because he had been in a drunken stupor. It had been a foolish mistake. A grand one that had cost him the most wonderful prize he had ever come across. In a great rage Karofsky set out across the lands, his iron studded club at his side. He wished to see the prince that rightfully belonged to him. There would be no mercy this time, not drunken rages, no servant girls meddling. Kurt had gone off on his own and married someone unworthy and Karofsky could not have him, no one would. Kurt would pay a heavy price for crossing the great ogre Karofsky.
It took only seven days to travel from his hunting grouds to the kingdom that now held his Kurt. In that time his rage grew with each step. The embarassment of being outsmarted by a servant and a spoiled prince churned inside of him and stung at his mind like a swarm of angry bees. His rage festered and spread to his thoughts, changing his plans little by little. No longer would his little prince be the only thing to suffer. No, he was much to angry for that. Now his husband must pay for wedding his property, for defiling it. His children must pay for living. The kingdom must pay for coveting what was his.
By the time he arrived at King Blaine's land he had devised a plan that would punish everyone who had wronged him. He disguised himself again as a man, the one who had first attempted to take the Prince's hand. He made it into the castle just as easily as he had before. He comes to a group of aging maids, no longer in the prime of their youth and beauty, and sets his plan into motion. Karofsky charms them each in turn. When they are suitably flustered he produces a number of silver and gold broaches from his bag. To each woman he offers a trinket and begs them to take him to the children. "Please," he pleads, "I wish to gaze upon the children I've heard such grand tales about." He wheedled and whined until the maids consented. With trinkets in hand they led Karofsky to the nursery and left him there to watch the children in peace. He finished his task long before anyone came to check on the children.
0
After a delightful lunch with his husband Kurt decides to go and check on his sons. His oldest, Everett is Blaine's by blood. He had fathered Rory. But he loved each son as his own and the matter of who mothered him mattered little so long as he could be their father. Upon entering the nursery Kurt went to Rory's crib. He was quiet still, ever his father's angel. Kurt leaned over the edge of the crib and pulled away Rory's downy blanket. Then he screamed.
The baby's throat was cut open in a jagged maw. Blood had spilled across the white sheets, staining it a vivid red that Kurt could not unsee. Kurt gasped and started to panic. His breath came to him in short bursts and his eyes burned with tears that could not come out fast enough. He reached into the crib and scooped up his son. His cold little body felt unnatural in his arms but Kurt held tight. He rocked his son and and wept for him. So lost in his grief, for a time he forgot about Everett. But as he spied his eldest son's crib he rushed over. A silver knife with a bear motif was embedded in his tiny chest. Blaine's wedding gift to him. Kurt bent himself at the side and lifted Everett in his free arm. With both of his sons held to his chest Kurt staggered to the middle of the nursery and sank to his knees. The pain he had felt all that time ago felt like a drop of water in the face of this ocean of sorrow. He could think of no greater tragedy.
A scream.
Chaos. Utter chaos. Guards came running, ready to save the children from whatever threatened them. To their surprise and horror it was their beloved King Elijah that they had to seize. He was drenched in their blood. The hilt of his knife still in the body of his oldest son. They took the children from Kurt's arms and laid them back in their cribs, then pulled Kurt with them to the dungeons. Other guards had run to King Blaine to tell him of the tragedy.
At first he denied these accusations. There was no way his beloved would kill their children. But the proof could not be denied. Their children were dead, slain with his husband's own knife in their beds. The longer Blaine thought about it, the more he became convinced that his husband was the killer. Had he not discovered his love as a beast? Kurt had been cursed to walk the earth as hideous monster. A bear like creature. Had Kurt simply been repressing his murderous impulses until now? His heart wanted to fight the obvious conclusion. He wanted to believe Kurt was just as much a victim as he but his mind fed him the sight of his lifeless son and whispered 'monster'. With a heavy heart Blaine sentenced Kurt to death. He was his beloved no more.
Kurt marched to the gallows with his head hung low. There were no more tears. He had none left to give. In his youth he had not cherished his charmed life. In punishment the fates saw fit to take each and every bit of joy from him until he was nothing but a husk. The people of the court gathered to watch his death. The very people who once sang songs of his beauty and grace now stood before him hissing and calling obscenities. He did not retaliate, he did not rise. He had failed to keep his eager heart at bay. He had failed to protect his children. He had lost his husbands love. Rather than live another moment in this grief he would gladly take the gallows.
As Kurt climbed the stairs to the hangman's noose he kept his eyes on his feet. He knew with great certainty that his husband sat in the audience, high above the others. Kurt would not look at him. He would not see the hatred in his love's eyes. He would not take solace in the face he so loved in his last moments as punishment to himself. Rough fingers moved him into place, yanking too and fro on his neck and shoulder until Kurt was centered over the trap door of the gallows. The noose was placed around his neck. The fibers were rough, as scratchy and uncomfortable as the fatty twine had been all that time ago. His executioner stepped away. Three steps, the sound lost over the roar of the angry crowd below.
"Any last words."
"I fear no death that takes me from pain of knowing I have lost my love." Word of Kurt's lament carried through the crowd from one angry villager to the next. They jeered at him for being calm, for sounding sad. They told him he was not worth a grain of the love Blaine and their kingdom had given him. Kurt took it all placidly. He had no doubt that they were right. But it was through the villagers that Blaine heard what Kurt had said. He had set himself as far back from the gallows as possible. He had not wanted to tempt fate by allowing himself to sit in close quarters with the man who had murdered his children. Now he wished he had been stronger.
Kurt loved him still. He had remorse. This man was his beloved. He could not have killed their children. Blaine stood and yelled for the executioner to stop. He had been a fool. He had been such a fool. Blaine yelled and yelled but he could not make his voice heard over the roar of the crowd. He hopped over the banister of his platform and began pushing his way through the crowd. He could not allow Kurt to die. Someone had framed him. The creature that haunted Kurt's nightmares, the reason he called himself Elijah in the court, that had to be the culprit. Why had he not seen it before. Blaine shouldered his way through the crowd. His heart seized in his throat. The executioner had his hand on the lever. Blaine screamed at the top of his lungs, long and loud for the drop. But it did not come.
The crowd parted for him at last and he could see. Clear as a summers day his love was standing on the platform. And there, beside him was a woman with shining red hair and another with long black hair. They each held a babe in their arms. His sons. His beautiful sons. They pink with life, squalling to be held by their fathers. Blaine ran and stormed the platform. Surrounding these women and his family was a horrible smell, like rotting meat and blood. He feared it was the stench of death clinging to his babies. Kurt's shocked wail corrected him. At Kurt's feet was a great bleeding head. The skin was gray and hairless. It's teeth were jagged and tusk like, an ogre. It's eyes were gone and in one socket his husband's knife was lodged.
The red headed woman handed Rory to Blaine, then removed the noose from his husband's neck. "The ogre Karofsky tried to destroy your family. His envy and rage saw no boundaries. So we blinded him." She pushed a shaking Kurt towards Santana. He then took his eldest son and crowded his body into Blaine's. The smell of the ogre's rotting head was swept away with the wind. And Kurt felt peace, a true peace that he had not since he was a babe.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
It is DONE! Okay so Bearskin is a French fairy tale, there's also a German one of the same name that is no way remotely similar. I made a few changes though. I added some back story and swapped a bird for a fish and a stake for the gallows but the story is essentially the same.
Let's just assume at this point that Kurt and Blaine live happily ever after okay. Because I can't put Kurt through any more suffering.