I'm really sorry this has taken me so long. I will probably be a while with each chapter because school is really full-on for me at the moment. Thank you for your patience.
The next day Kurt woke to the clang of the bell. It always rang out through the slaves' quarters at dawn, and if one of the prostitutes in the King's Castle didn't come out within fifteen minutes of the first ring, they were punished.
Kurt groaned and turned over in bed, forcing his eyes open. His first thought was of his friend. He remembered Brittany's terrified screams, and how she'd been crying hysterically as the guards dragged her away. Brittany probably hadn't slept at all. Unless they'd knocked her out, which would be highly likely. They wouldn't want her having dark circles under her eyes the next day.
Quickly, he swung out of bed and grabbed the clothes he'd discarded the night before. Kurt was often the first awake, because he'd learnt long ago just how awful consequences could be if he wasn't out in time. And as he locked his shoulders back in his usual false confidence before opening his door, he saw that the morning before Market Day was no exception.
Likely most the girls were taking a gamble and sleeping in because they knew they weren't going to have any really bad punishments before being sold the next day.
Kurt had a job to do though. During his morning check-in with Madame he'd have to secure Brittany the promise of a good home. So he smiled sweetly at the guard that was always waiting. The grouchy man (they always hated being up early) gave Kurt a sour glance and stopped his incessant ringing of the bell.
"Name?" He asked, as if he didn't already know. As if he'd never taken the morning roll call before. As if everyone in Laurel Hill didn't know Kurt. They just liked making Kurt state his degrading title. So he did it with a smile, just so the guard wouldn't get any satisfaction.
"Little Princess," He told him. The grunt he got in response was hardly a proper acknowledgement, but Kurt took it as his cue to leave. He pattered neatly down the staircase, through the foyer, and stood outside Madame's door. The second guard was waiting there.
"Did you get your name checked off upstairs?" He asked. Already he was looking Kurt up and down, hunger apparent in his expression.
"I did." Kurt said coldly. He was glad he was wearing his baggier clothes, meaning the guard couldn't really objectify him in quite the same manner.
"I'll see if Madame's ready to begin the morning check-ins yet." The guard said, still not turning around to do so. "But first, what was your name again?"
"Little Princess," Kurt repeated, letting no emotion show on his face.
"That's right." The man said, giving Kurt a very lewd wink before hammering on the door beside them.
"What?" Madame sounded sharp, and the guard's manner quickly became more humble.
"Sorry M'am, but the first one's here to see you." The guard said politely through a crack in the door.
"What are you waiting for then?" Madame asked. The guard immediately stepped back and let Kurt through. Kurt saw the annoyance in his eyes and tensed slightly. As the guard reached out a hand to 'accidentally' touch him, Kurt jerked the door shut so closely behind himself that it caught the guard's fingers.
"Princess," Madame greeted. "First again, I'm impressed."
Kurt just nodded, trying to ignore the obnoxious sight of the breakfast she had laid out on her desk. She always did this, and it always made his stomach clench with hunger. She liked to eat in front of her slaves, almost like a further reminder that she was in charge. It certainly worked, because Kurt wanted nothing more than a piece of the warm bread with a strip of the crispy bacon she was currently shoveling into her mouth.
"Now as usual, I have your schedule for the day. You'll be finished by four o'clock. Each session is written out on your chalkboard like always, but you may notice we have two sessions with extra ten minute blocks added on. That's not a mistake, both customers paid extra for that time." Kurt nodded stiffly, and she continued.
"As for the rest of the afternoon, today will be our testing day. I'll send some girls in to come up with concept ideas for your hair and makeup. It'll be pretty close to your usual look, but I want to glamorize it." She began to spread liberal amounts of butter onto more bread. Kurt willed his stomach not to growl.
"Can I see Brittany at breakfast, or must I wait until dinner time?" Kurt asked. He doubted they'd have corresponding breaks at lunch time, seeing as they never did. Madame liked to keep friends apart until all the clients had been served. It helped keep the prostitutes 'in the zone' apparently. Kurt was pretty sure the real reason the rule had been invented was because Brittany and Santana had started sleeping together and become suspiciously worn out after the lunch breaks they shared.
"Oh Princess, did I not tell you? You won't see the Butterfly girl again. It causes far too much disturbance." Madame waved a dismissive hand. She was completely unbothered that she'd just told her favorite slave that his last proper meeting with his best friend would be the one where she was dragged away from him, screaming. Kurt's jaw clenched, but he kept his temper at bay.
"I see," He said slowly. He may as well launch straight into things then. "Speaking of Brittany, did I tell you the special conditions of her sale tomorrow?"
"Princess, I decide the conditions of all sales." It was Madame's turn to look nervous, but she hid it well. "I do own you after all."
"Oh, well it could still be your decision if you don't mind me messing up colossally with today's clients." Kurt shrugged, subtly weaving in his blackmail. "It's really up to you."
There was a long moment of silence. He could tell that Madame was trying to gauge whether he was serious. Kurt hardly ever asked her for anything. But when he did, he made sure there was no way she could refuse him.
"What conditions would you like me to add then, love?" Madame adopted her usual appearance of pretending she was doing Kurt a favour.
"When Brittany is sold, she goes to a nice home. I don't care if the person doesn't give you the best deal. She goes to someone who will love her and cherish her." He said.
"Of course," Madame nodded quickly. She seemed relieved at how simple his request was. "Of course I'll do that."
"I'm not finished." Kurt warned. "I want the agreement in writing, so you can't back down. And if she's sold to anyone I wouldn't approve of, I will get you in huge trouble."
Her composure slipped.
"How much money do you think I can afford to lose?" She snapped. Kurt's eyes roved over the indulgent breakfast in front of her, but he didn't point out to her how much extravagance she could already afford.
"You'll get more than enough gold from selling me. Sell me to the highest bidder. I don't give a fuck who they are. Just be satisfied with the money you're getting from me, and make sure Brittany has a good home." Kurt really didn't care where he ended up, so long as it wasn't ownership under a single master. And the highest bidder could only be another brothel anyway. No single person was rich enough to afford him.
Madame was already scribbling out her statement. Kurt waited until she'd signed it off, and then reached for it greedily. She handed it over with a slight pout, but seemed okay with making the deal.
"Thank you, Madame." Kurt let real gratitude seep into his tone and he clutched the paper close. "Thank you very much."
"Least I could do for my favorite." She said, smiling again. He could see her mind had already moved on to the rest of the day, and the work she had to do to prepare all of her slaves for market.
Kurt gave a little bow and left the room, passing the gathering line of girls and heading straight to the dining hall. He needed to get some food into him before he began the day's work.
…
Blaine spent the morning in the General Store helping the Changs. He had to admit, it hadn't been too bad. Though most of the men coming through were hard and crude, Blaine had always had good people skills and he was still able to keep up his cheerful manner even when Tina became short with certain customers.
Although he really didn't blame her for getting so easily frustrated. Every man that entered would stare at Tina, simply because the sight of a woman as so rare. The fact that Tina was pretty didn't really help the fact. It was lucky that even these rough men would still respect the fact that Tina was married while her husband was in the room though. If they'd done anything more than stare, Blaine thought the vein that pulsed in Mike's forehead might actually burst.
After they'd closed up the General Store (there was no way they would be able to keep things running smoothly during the Market and so the shop wouldn't open until it was over), Blaine went off to collect his wagon. It has been in the shop long enough, and he was eager to take it back to the Changs and finally get ready to go home.
He managed to squeeze his way through the crowds of people already filling the streets, and panicked slightly when he saw that the shop was all closed up. He took the stairs leading to the door in one step and hammered his fist on the wood. After a moment, the door was flung open by a frustrated looking man who seemed to be in the middle of putting on a coat.
"Look I get that all you travelers need basic repairs, the trip to town has been a long one. But I'm getting ready to go to the Slave Market just like you and I really don't have the time to take on any more projects right now."
"Oh no, I'm not a new customer! I dropped off a wagon yesterday! For repairs to the wheel?" Blaine asked quickly, narrowly avoiding having the door slammed in his face. He gave his best friendly smile. The man looked him up and down, finally seeming to recognize him.
The man grunted. "I thought I told you the deadline. You'll have to wait till the end of the Market. There's no way I can get all my work done before tomorrow, and I'm not working during the holiday."
"Wait, but Market day always extends over the weekend!" Blaine shouted as the door began to shut again. When the man paused again he quickly continued, voice softer, more desperate. "That's three days at least. I need it fixed before then."
The man simply shook his head. He looked genuinely regretful. "Just can't do it, sorry kid."
Though Blaine tried to stop the door from closing one last time, it was to no avail.
He was going to be stuck in town.
During the Slave Market.
Great.
…
"Goodbye sweetheart," Kurt crooned, running his index finger along the jawline of his last client before helping him to button his coat. "I'll miss you."
The man leered down at Kurt as he acted his way through the last seconds of their appointment.
"I'll miss you too, Princess. Maybe I'll have to come find you at whatever Brothel you move on to next." He winked in what was probably meant to be a saucy manner. Kurt faked shyness, ducking his head. This guy liked the whole 'innocent' act and it was frankly getting rather tiring.
"I'd like that," He murmured. The man in front of him looked extremely smug. Luckily for Kurt, there wasn't time for him to insist on a goodbye kiss. A loud bell echoed through the room from the corridor outside. Kurt looked up at the big clock on his wall as if he was disappointed to see the time.
"That's your cue." He said sadly, nudging the man toward the door and swinging it open. All down the hall Kurt could see other patrons leaving their own prostitutes. The guard was currently hammering on one of the doors that hadn't opened. Sometimes men pushed their luck and had to be forcibly removed from the bedrooms.
"See you later." The man gave him a pat on the rear and Kurt giggled. He wiggled his fingers in goodbye as the client finally stepped out into the hallway, placing his hat back on.
He seemed like he was about to turn back and say something else, but Kurt shut the door in his face.
The flirty smile dropped from Kurt's lips, replaced with a look of disgust. He shuddered and ran a hand through his hair. He was pretty sure it had been the worst working day he'd suffered through in a long time. Every single client had been demanding, over-confident and horrible. It had taken everything in him not to scream at some of them to leave before their time was up. He was still so wound tight he felt close to an explosion. Everything was becoming too much for him to handle. But Kurt Hummel always handled things. He had to.
With a sigh, He started stripping the covers off the huge bed. He deposited them in the laundry basket in the corner and then went to take the cushions off both chairs as well. It had been a busy day and he'd pretty much moved over the entire room. He took a bit of vindictive pleasure in the idea of how much work he was leaving for Madame.
When he finally cleaned everything up he stripped as quickly as possible, throwing the robe he'd slipped hurriedly on across the room with sudden ferociously.
The anger swooped down so abruptly that he had to take a moment just to breathe and stop himself from kicking something. He realized he'd been shaking since the moment he shut the door.
"Now is not the time," He hissed to the empty room. "Don't lose control."
But he was really falling apart. The muscles in his lower back were already aching and he could feel other parts of his body beginning to became raw and tender as well. Considering he'd probably spend the night getting acquainted with his new owner, it pissed Kurt off to no end.
And he wouldn't have a chance to properly relieve himself for a while. He was embarrassingly still a little hard from his previous client, but Kurt had no time to take care of it. He never allowed the men who paid for him to make him come. It was one of the rules he settled with himself; one of the only things that kept him in control of his own body. And it was certainly effective at keeping his job separate from who he really was, but it did leave him awfully frustrated when he had no time alone for days on end.
On top of the madness of his clients and his own needs, there were a ton of other things going wrong; he wasn't going to see Brittany again, he was being sold, he hadn't told the Changs about it, and he was still beating himself up for being terrified about the whole prospect.
"Breathe," As he whispered the order to himself, Kurt sank to the floor and lent against his bent knees, hurriedly gasping in air.
He knew he only had about ten minutes before Madame sent the girls up to start working on his look for sale day. He couldn't be going crazy when they arrived.
He had to stop thinking about everything. He knew his life would never be perfect. It shouldn't bother him anymore.
He forced himself to turn his mind away from everything he'd done that day. It usually wasn't hard to do, but sometimes he would get into these consuming loops where he would dwell on everything. He wished Santana was there to slap him across the face or start talking loudly about how dreadful all of their clients were in bed. He wished Quinn was there to remind him he was better than all those men who paid for him. He wished Brittany was there to pull him to his feet and start teaching him one of her made-up dances. He wished Tina and Mike where there to talk about wonderfully domestic things that would distract him. He wished his old family where there and he'd never ever lost them. He wished Blaine was-
"What the fuck?" Kurt asked himself aggressively, pushing up from his hunched position on the floor. "No you don't."
He walked through to his own room and started throwing on the loose clothes he wore when he wasn't working.
Where had that even come from? He hadn't thought about Blaine since the day before, and it wasn't like he even knew the guy. He really was feeling stupidly lonely… Enough that his subconscious made him grasp onto random guys in the General Store.
At least Blaine's name and the shock of it being there had been enough to startle him out of his spiraling freak-out.
By the time someone else knocked on Kurt's door and he opened it to let the two slaves in to start making him over, he was completely calm.
…
The next day Kurt woke very early to someone dragging him out of bed and shoving him through to the bathroom downstairs. After debating whether or not to call some cutting remark after them for waking him so brutally, he stood in the shower and let the cold water run over himself. With a groan, he tried to massage the pain out of his lower back. It was throbbing from the day before. He knew he shouldn't have done so much stretching, but the clients had wanted it and…
He stopped that thought before he ended up on the floor again. The previous day had been really bad, and after a year he still wasn't used to not having Santana around to scoff over each client with until he felt less traumatized by the situation. Maybe if he'd got to see Brittany he could have just talked to her about it. Mocking the men always helped Kurt feel more detached from the situation. It stopped his thoughts from being quite so self-deprecating.
Ah well, Kurt thought bitterly as he quickly snagged his fingers through his tangled hair, At least I don't have to do much actual work today.
If Kurt was calculating things correctly, it would take the other slaves about an hour to recreate the look they'd settled on the previous night. Then he'd be taken off to Market and locked up behind the King's Castle stall until his sale time. He figured that would be around two o'clock, when the crowds were swelling with people Madame had finished building up the hype.
When his shower was finished he suffered in silence in one of the downstairs dressing rooms as the two slaves recreated his look.
He winced but didn't complain as the girls prepared his hair the same way they'd practiced the day before. The usual sweep upward was joined by a series of absolutely minuscule plaits, tossed through the coiffed hair in delicately woven layers. This apparently added a touch of subtle but radiant beauty. Kurt wasn't too sold on the idea. He preferred his usual look. It wasn't so degradingly… girly.
When they were finished, the hands became gentler as they started on his makeup. Careful smooth pink color was spread over his lips. Imperfections were wiped out with a hint of powder. His eyelashes were coated and then the eyes themselves were lined with black.
Just before they were done with the finishing touches, the door swung open to reveal Madame. She watched the last moments of work, and then waved the girls back to the corners of the room.
"Take off the robe." She told Kurt. He kept his face carefully neutral as he slipped off the garment he'd been left after his shower. He had wondered why he wasn't given his special Market Day clothes to put on, but now he understood why. Inspection.
The two girls were still there, giggling behind their hands as they stared, unashamed, at his body. Madame didn't seem to notice them. Her expression was purely business as she walked in a circle around him, examining every inch. It really did make Kurt feel like an object. A possession. He hated that after all this time he still had the urge to cover himself up. It wasn't like his body was his own. It wasn't like he was anything more than a possession anyway.
As Madame indicated for him to twirl for her, he felt a twist of bitterness.
It was a while before she moved up to his face, indicating for him to open his mouth and show his teeth, and then checking all of his makeup. At one point she even beckoned a girl forward and took the eyeliner from her to make both sides match to her satisfaction.
When she was finally done, her calculating smile reappeared and she sat in her own chair, gesturing for Kurt to sit in his. He quickly slipped his robe back on, shooting a haughty glance at the girls by the door. They collapsed into laughter.
Though Kurt ignored them with an inner scoff, Madame turned on them.
"What on earth is wrong? It's not like you've never seen a man without his clothes on before!" She snapped. One of the girls managed to stop laughing, slapping her friend on the arm. Kurt almost wished he paid more attention to the other slaves' names, because he'd dearly love to address them scathingly by name right now.
"We've never seen the Little Princess properly naked." The girl said, "He's exactly what I always imagined."
"Oh god," Her friend elbowed her, obviously trying to make her shut up, but she hadn't stopped laughing either. You'd think they'd know by now to be more respectful in front of the women who literally held control of everything in their lives.
"Both of you, be silent!" Madame said, voice dangerous. "I doubt the Little Princess is the most attractive man you've ever seen. You'd think you two were blushing little virgins."
The smiles faded from their faces immediately. They could tell she was angry.
"Sorry, Madame," Both girls said together, curtsying quickly. "We didn't mean to offend you."
"Your immaturity would be enough to offend anyone. Now go and try and make yourselves presentable so I at least get some profit from you." She waved a hand and didn't bother even watching as they scampered from the room.
Kurt still hadn't moved from his state of quiet disdain. He wasn't really sure how to respond to Madame's reaction. He was fairly sure it sprung out of annoyance at having their cackling to put up with as opposed to any sort of actual sympathy for him. When she turned and massaged her temples a moment, his suspicions were confirmed.
"I'm so sick of those snotty little girls." She sighed. "I mean being no older than seventeen doesn't give them an excuse."
Kurt felt a pang of sorrow. He hated learning the ages of other slaves. It was hard to simply hate the two girls when he realized just how young they were. As Kurt tried to remind himself how bitchy even the younger girls could be, he noticed that Madame was done trying to abate her headache and was now watching him.
"How are you feeling?" She asked shrewdly.
"Fine," Kurt responded blandly, easily pushing other thoughts from his mind.
There was a moment's pause as he looked back into her uncaring eyes.
"You know you've always been my favorite. Despite your occasional cheek." Madame told him, sickeningly condescending. "I've never met another slave with such poise and such skill."
Kurt ducked his head. He didn't want to think about it, especially not when he was already so unstable. He really hated these conversations. Madame seemed to like having them though. She seemed to think that reminding him of her favor would make him more compliant. She seemed to think that reminding of how skilled he was in the bedroom would put him in a good mood.
"You know when you first came here I was skeptical of what the previous owner promised of your talent. But when I sent in my man to test you out, I received the best feedback I've ever had. And you were so young; it's been wonderful to watch your talents grow even stronger as the years went by. The whole town wants a turn in your bed. You've achieved so much!" She looked expectant. Kurt forced a smile.
For some reason that made Madame laugh.
"That's my boy! Always the charmer!" She reached out and Kurt managed not to flinch as she gave his hand what was meant to be a comforting squeeze.
"I think I'm going to miss you. I'll really miss all the wonderful praise you brought to this place. I'll miss your pretty little face and I might even miss your spunk." She suddenly seemed overcome with emotion, and Kurt's discomfort swelled.
"Oh Little Princess, I'm going to miss you." She cooed, grabbing him and pulling him into a rib crushing hug. Kurt stiffened at the contact and bit back a surprised yelp. Very carefully, he forced himself to return her hug.
"I'll miss you too." He lied. Because she was wrong. She wouldn't miss him. She would miss the business he brought and the willing little slave she though he was.
Madame pulled back with glossy eyes.
"This is the end then. I can't wait to see what price you fetch m'dear."
And with that typical last line, she left, sending in the guards to take him to the cart that would transport him to the market.
…
Blaine woke up late the next morning, and when he stumbled sleepily into the kitchen he was full of apologies. The Changs rolled their eyes at each other and told him to shut up before Tina sat him down and set a steaming bowl of porridge in front of him.
"Wow, thank you," Blaine gasped, sprinkling sugar over it before digging in. Mike was filling what looked like a second round of porridge for himself, and Tina settled in the window nook overlooking the street below, a cup of tea in her hands.
"What's happening outside?" Blaine asked, unable to see from where he was sitting.
"The slave carts have started coming in. They always start arriving around now, so they can parade their wares down the streets first." Tina frowned down at the street below her.
"What's the time?" Blaine asked. He had no idea what time of day the actual Market began.
"Around quarter to ten. The market starts in forty five minutes." Mike informed him with a grimace, guessing what he was wondering. "Be prepared to have Tina glaring out the window the whole day."
"You know I hate not knowing what's going on. We had to close the shop, so there's not much else to do." Tina sighed, and turned back to Mike. "And Kurt won't be able to visit until after the market so I can't help but worry about him. You know how depressed he gets at this time of year."
At the sight of Blaine confusion, she continued. "The market every two months is bad enough! At least it's always a lot smaller then, but this big one in the middle of summer is the worst. On top of that, it reminds Kurt of losing his old friends, Quinn and Santana. This is when they were sold."
"Why can't he visit us though?" Blaine asked despite himself. "Wouldn't that cheer him up? Seeing you guys?"
"Well they never let him go out during market time. He works pretty much non-stop for all the new people in town." Tina's fists clenched.
"Oh," Blaine felt a little sick at the thought of Kurt serving people all day.
"He has Brittany, Tina. He'll be fine." Mike assured her. They'd both met Brittany a dozen or so times because over the time they'd known Kurt, she had been allowed out on some of his walks. They both really liked her, and seemed to have faith in her abilities to look after their friend. In any case, the statement seemed to calm Tina.
Before Blaine could ask who Brittany was, Mike changed the topic, asking him about the farm. He filled Mike in on how he'd finally settled the borders for his farmland and gotten all the paper-work sorted.
As they got more absorbed in the conversation, they didn't notice the way Tina suddenly lurched upright, gripping the curtains for support as she stared intently out of the window.
"…I mean it will mostly be other food farms. I doubt many people would bring animals my side of the valley since th-"
"Look at this!" Tina gasped, cutting off Blaine's explanation.
Mike was standing in a flash at the sound of his wife's panic. Blaine followed, joining them in the window in time to see the cart that Tina was pointing at come into full view past a group of men on the sidewalk.
Blaine couldn't see what was so special about it at first. He'd seen slave carts before, and this one looked just the same. Three rows of wooden benches on each cart with the slaves chained down at the ankle as they sat in rows. There were five carts moving together down the road, with the same sign on the side, "King's Castle, home of the famous Little Princess."
Blaine knew that name. He felt a thud of dread.
"Please tell me that isn't Kurt," Tina begged. She sounded heart-broken. Blaine's own heart caught in his throat as he stared even harder.
There was something strikingly familiar about the slave right at the front of the first cart. His rigid posture, the proud tilt to his head, the sweep of hair…
She was right.
Kurt was being taken to market.
…
Kurt had completely blocked out the jeering from the men that had stopped to watch their passage across town. He sat up straight and confident in his new clothes, crossing and uncrossing his legs so that they could all watch the shift of muscles, of reaching up to brush a hand across his hair so that his top would lift enough to give a flash of skin. If the loud cat-calls were anything to go by, he was doing his job in drawing a good crowd to the market later. Madame would be pleased.
Kurt's mouth tilted in a little half-smile. He channeled just enough charm and coy, aloof attitude to make everyone curious for more; even if they hadn't already heard about him.
He looked vaguely at the surrounding faces, not really making eye-contact, but doing enough to intrigue and excite the men who thought he'd looked at them. A few arguments broke out.
It was then that Kurt noticed the nearest street sign and withdrew his gaze from nothingness to make sure he'd read it right. He had.
Kurt really hadn't thought through his journey at all. He planned how he would look and act, but he had completely forgotten which streets the cart would travel down. He'd completely forgotten that the Changs' store would be en route.
Kurt suddenly felt a little sick.
He kept his distant smile on his face, but now his mind was whirring with sudden worry.
He hated himself for storming out of the store without telling them that he was being sold. He'd never even been able to say goodbye. Stupid Blaine, he thought angrily, fists clenching on the rough bench that was jerking with each movement of the cart.
Kurt knew Tina would be looking out the window. As they came closer and closer, he still hadn't decided if he was going to look up and wave, or keep staring straight ahead. Both options seemed equally gut-wrenching.
In the end, the decision was made for him. The cart suddenly jerked to a stop right in front of the General Store.
There was a long moment as Kurt sat there, frozen. He didn't really think about why they would be stopping, he just knew he had to say goodbye in the only way he still could.
Kurt took a deep breath, and looked up.
The light was reflecting off the window, and making things a little harder to see. He could make out the shapes of Tina and Mike, and he raised a hand in greeting, a brief bright smile splitting his face. He had to make sure they knew he was okay, even if they were confused.
But as his wave became more enthusiastic, he noticed something else. Something that made him freeze, smile dropping.
There was a third person in the window.
That person clapped their hands to their mouth and quickly stepped out of sight, but Kurt thought he recognized the small stature, the curls and the friendly posture.
Blaine.
Blaine staying in the Changs' house.
Before Kurt could even process this, something else made him lose focus entirely.
"…The Butterfly Girl-" A man was saying, handing a piece of paper to the guard driving Kurt's cart.
He whirled around, unsure whether he'd heard what he thought he'd just heard.
They could not be talking about Brittany.
"Well that's Madame's signature all right." The Driver grunted, handing the reigns to his second in command. "Alf, keep the horses here, I'll go and help them collect her. Pass me the keys"
"Wait!" Kurt gasped, reaching a hand out to catch hold of his sleeve as he took the keys from Alf, and almost toppling off the side of the cart as he did so. "Did you say Madame wants Br-The Butterfly Girl?"
"Yes," He yanked his arm back, snatching the keys out of Kurt's reach as if he thought he was about to steal them. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Why?" Kurt demanded, glaring at the guards who had brought the news. "Why's she want Brittany?"
"The Butterfly girl has been sold." They sneered at him, and then turned to the driver. "Hurry up then, Madame doesn't like to be kept waiting."
The Driver turned to hop off the cart. Kurt felt like he was about to explode again. He could only think of one reason Madame would suddenly call Brittany back to the King's Castle, and he didn't like it one bit.
"No!" Kurt tried to swing over the driver's bench and follow him off the cart. His ankle snapped him back and he remembered, too late, that he was chained to his seat. Alf grabbed his arm and yanked him backward so hard that Kurt cried out in pain.
"Don't hurt him!" The Driver said. "We'll get in trouble if he has bruises. Damaged goods don't sell for quite the same price."
Kurt was on his feet again, furious. Everyone was eyeing him with vague amusement.
"Let me off this cart." He said sternly. "Take me back!"
"Sit down." Alf growled at him. Kurt surged forward, refusing to comply with their demands. But two strong arms wrapped around his waist, and Alf held him captive.
"Madame can't sell Brittany if I'm not there!" Kurt shouted, tugging at the restraint around his ankle with all his might. "Tell her I have to be there."
"We aren't telling her squat you little fucker, sit down!" The Driver bellowed. Kurt kicked out furiously, but it didn't have any effect. In his sudden panic, it only made him kick harder.
He knew now what Madame must be doing. She was selling Brittany out of Kurt's sight, so that he couldn't complain about who she was sold to. He'd have no idea whether Brittany had gone to a good home. That must have been Madame's plan all along.
"Let go of me!" Kurt screamed, thrashing madly.
Laughter rose up all around. He finally remembered the crowds watching.
One of the guards stayed with Alf, while the other two men left to get Brittany and drag her off to whatever fate they had in store for her.
Alf held Kurt down, but he was putting up a huge fight. He knew he should be embarrassed of the tears streaming from his eyes, or the high pitched screeches he was emitting. He really didn't care about himself anymore.
He just wanted Brittany to be safe.
Vaguely, Kurt was aware of the crowd gathering to watch, of Tina and Mike calling for him to calm down, of the two guards discussing how to make him shut up. But all he could focus on was that his best friend in all the world was about to be sold, and it must be to someone awful, or Madame wouldn't have tried to hide it from him.
He was terrified, but when his desperate eyes swept the crowd, he barely even noticed Mike and Tina as they ran out of the shop. He barely even noticed when Blaine followed. He barely registered that it was Blaine's wide blown eyes he stared into last of all.
A sudden blow to the head made everything go dark.
The last thing he heard was a voice saying, "it's okay, you can't see bruises under his hair."
Kurt tried to laugh as blackness engulfed him. Of course that was all they cared about.
…