A/N: Heh, I rather like this chapter. A little drama. A little humor. After rewatching season six two weekends ago, I've decided I really enjoyed the character of Spencer (could ya tell?). I think that's why he keeps popping up as the voice of reason in this story.


"I will not allow it!" shrieked Duke Anderson, shoving a pile of papers off of his desk in his fit of rage.

Jaw clenched tightly, Sir Spencer Porter shifted on his feet, dropping his hand onto the handle of his sword, preparing for this conversation to go south rather quickly. "You don't have a choice, Your Grace," he pushed out between gritted teeth. "Not only did Lord Anderson agree to submit to the Consent of the King article when he signed the Writ of Marriage, but when you accepted the title of Duke, you swore fealty to King Hummel. That requires obedience. We aren't one of those countries where every man gets a say in the governance of the land," Spencer added with a shudder. He often wondered how anything was ever accomplished in those lands – what with so many voices wanting their say.

Duke Anderson snatched the iron fireplace poker from its stand and swung – first at the fruit bowl on a side table, then at the wooden book case and then, before either Sir Spencer or Sir Noah Puckerman could intervene, the fireplace. Splinters of stone flew out, striking the Duke in the arm and face where trickles of blood sprung from his olive skin. Bellowing in rage, he spun and took two steps towards Sir Spencer before Sir Noah smacked the iron poker from the hand of the duke with the broadside of his sword and promptly headbutted the duke who fell to the ground unconscious.

"What?" said Sir Noah with a raised eyebrow.

Sighing, Sir Spencer shook his head at his friend and fellow knight. "Nothing. It's just too bad Duke Anderson ran into the door during his tantrum. We'll have to remember to let his staff know he's in here. Unconscious. From that blow to the head he took."

"Yeah," Noah replied acerbically, stepping over the body of Duke Anderson. "I'll have to remember to do that. Wait, what was I supposed to remember to do, again?"

Sir Spencer scratched his short blonde hair and mimed being deep in thought. "I can't seem to remember myself, Puck." Closing the door to the office behind him, Sir Spencer led the way back to the entrance of the Manor. "I'm sure if it was terribly important one of the two of us will remember eventually."

"Remind me again why Porcelain didn't come to claim his prize himself?" Noah asked softly. Rare was the occasion that either one of the knights would speak so freely about the prince.

"He felt it would provoke Duke Anderson," answered Spencer, amusement in his voice.

"Astute observation," came Noah's dry response.

"Right?" Sir Spencer schooled his face as they came upon the Duchess and several servants standing in front of the wide staircase that led to the upstairs floors. "Where is Lord Anderson, Duchess?"

She raised a shaking hand to her throat, as she tried for a commanding tone, "My husband was quite firm. He does not want you taking our son from the Manor."

Exchanging a look, Sir Noah took the duchess's arm, steering her out of the way as Sir Spencer climbed the stairs, ignoring the protests of the downstairs servants. If he had to search each room of the Manor he would.


Blaine didn't know what to expect when the door to his bedroom opened slowly. But it was a solid sense of relief that overtook him when he saw the familiar blonde hair and wide shoulders of Sir Spencer cross into the room.

"What. The. Fuck."

Taking a shaky breath through his nose, Blaine couldn't hold Spencer's gaze as the knight pulled a dirk out of his boot and strode over to the bed where Blaine had been bound and gagged.

Spencer exercised extreme caution as he slipped the sharp knife between the fabric gagging Blaine and his jaw, and then again as he sawed through the rope binding Blaine's wrists together. Finally he used his sword to hack away at the thicker coils of rope around Blaine's waist that had held him to the headboard.

Cupping Blaine's chin, Spencer guided Blaine to look at him. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Rubbing at his wrists, Blaine gave a curt nod. "I am now. Or I will be. Again, it seems, I'm in your debt, Sir Porter."

Spencer sat down on the edge of the bed, stilling Blaine's hands. "I've some salve in my pack outside that will help those abrasions. Your rubbing will only make it worse, Lord Blaine. And there is no debt." Reaching over to the bedside table, Spencer was able to pour a cool glass of water, holding it to Blaine's lips himself as he drank his fill.

Setting the glass down, Spencer wiped his palms on the coverlet. "When I took my oath, I promised to serve my king by protecting the people of this land. That includes you, Lord Blaine, no matter how many times you might need that help. Besides, I'm sure if the situations were reversed, you would do the same for me."

Blaine swung his legs over the side of the bed, cautiously standing on shaky legs. "I don't think I have what it takes to be a knight," he commented before taking a few tentative steps.

"Why's that?" Spencer asked, following Blaine towards the door.

In answer, Blaine took Sir Spencer's hand and placed it on his bicep. "I don't have the requisite athletic form."

Spencer scoffed. "First, I've been training for knighthood since I was fifteen. My 'athletic form' as you put it, is the natural result of having my ass handed to me ten hours a day, six days a week, for years. Second, I've seen your form. There's absolutely nothing lacking. Lord Blaine." Seeing Blaine's look of incredulity, Spencer laughed.

"You're, you're married," Blaine sputtered.

"Yes," Spencer replied, still laughing. "Doesn't mean I'm dead, Lord Blaine. I still look. And, on occasion, with permission, I get to touch as well."

Blaine had no idea what to say to that.

Reaching out, Spencer ruffled Blaine's curls with affection before turning serious. "How do you feel … about coming with us? Kurt asked me to sound you out. To see if you had any qualms. If you do … just tell me. I'll let the prince know."

"No," Blaine murmured, knowing his father's staff were probably listening behind the closed doors, waiting for a piece of information they could share with the Duke in the hopes of being given a small reward. "I'm ready. I'm sure."

Sir Spencer led the way down the stairs, stopping in front of the duchess to glare at her. "If you knew, I should have you flogged. Or better yet, thrown into the dungeon."

"I had nothing to do with that," Duchess Anderson insisted with false bravado.

"I'm sure," Sir Spencer sneered.

"Blaine, your father doesn't want you to leave."

Blaine looked at his mother blankly. "I'm attracted to men, mother. If Prince Kurt is willing to share himself with me, even if it's just for one night, then I'm willing to accept his offer. Father's asking me to give up part of myself for the rest of my life – all so our family honor can 'remain untarnished'. If I can marry Lady Berry to please him, he can give me this one night, to please myself. I'll be home sometime tomorrow."

Without a backward glance, Blaine Anderson walked out of his parent's home.


End Note: and thus created another cliffhanger of sorts that will last until Tuesday. We're getting closer to some sexy times. And then more drama. And then some sexy times. And then...hmmm. It's a pattern? I'm wishing each of you a pleasant weekend, and a Happy Mother's Day for those of you to whom this applies. -k8