A/N: Phew, I don't think I anticipated the reactions that followed the publishing of the last chapter! For all the people that said they cried - especially the poor, slightly drunk anon! - uh...sorry? Emotions are a good thing; they keep up on our toes, haha!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Early Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania

Kurt woke up in his bed, head pounding. For a moment, he thought it was several years ago and he was waking up at midday after a party the night before. His eyes fluttered open and he realized this wasn't the case. His curtains were open and beyond its panes gaped the blackness of night. He stirred on his sheets, trying to sit up. A hand gripped his elbow, steadying him. Sam was at his side looking at him with concern.

"Sammy?" asked Kurt, touching his fingers to his temple. "Ugh, where am I? I mean…no." Kurt's face screwed up in confusion as he saw Noah in a nearby chair. "What are you both…what…?" Kurt's voice faded as memories flooded back. His face must have given something away, because by the time he had processed reality, Sam was holding him back by his shoulders as he struggled to get up.

"Kurt, calm down, please," pleaded Sam. "You hurt your head when you blacked out. You need to stay put."

"Let go of me," Kurt strained. He reached up and felt a gauzy head bandage. He bunched it into his fist, ripped it off of his head, and threw it to the ground.

"Kurt," Noah started, standing up. Kurt was legitimately fighting against Sam, shoving his hands away and slowly squirming closer to the edge of his bed as Sam attempted to cling to him. "Sam, stop. Let him go. He'll only hurt himself more if he's fighting against you."

With a grumble, Sam released him. Kurt sprung to his feet, head spinning, and stumbled to the door. He tried to get a grip on the door handle but his vision was working in twos and threes.

"Look at him," Sam said. "He has a concussion. Kurt, you shouldn't be –"

"Don't touch me," Kurt warned in advance as they approached.

"At least let us help you," Noah said, pulling Kurt's arm over his shoulders. "God, you're a wreck."

Kurt wanted to punch Noah in the face. Had what happened to Blaine been a dream? Was he the only one who remembered? Noah was acting almost normal, and if he really cared about Blaine, how could he dare to do that?

"Blaine," Kurt said, voice cracking. No more tears escaped, as if he had already given them all. "Oh God, Blaine. Is he d…is he d-d…" Kurt couldn't finish the sentence, but both of the other men knew what he meant.

"No," Sam said quietly. "Kurt, we wanted to tell you this while you were sitting."

"I won't sit," Kurt said, making his way down the hall with Noah's help. He was headed toward Blaine's rooms. "I won't sit. I won't sit."

"Alright," Sam said hastily. "Kurt…he isn't good. He really isn't good." Sam's voice trembled and he put his hand over his mouth to stop its wavering and to collect himself. He finally removed his hand and took a deep breath. "It's about midnight now. Medice's been with him since…since it happened. He says that if Blaine's wounds clot and stop bleeding soon and he makes it through the next few days, he'll live."

Kurt was shaking his head vehemently. "No. No. No."

"Kurt – stop," Sam said in distress. Kurt could hear the tears in his voice but he didn't care. Sam had no right to cry. Sam didn't know how he felt. No one knew how he felt. "Kurt, yes, stop it. God knows that I hate to say this but…you have to prepare yourself for the worst."

"No," Kurt said quickly. His voice rose. "No. No. Shut up. Blaine can't die. Not Blaine. He can't, alright? He just can't, so stop talking as if he already has."

Sam quieted and shook his head, tears shining in his eyes but not falling down his cheeks. "You're awfully quiet," Kurt snapped at Noah.

"I wish you had been out longer," Noah said, his honesty shocking Kurt into silence. "They told us to watch you until you woke. When they said that, I was…glad. It gave me a chance to not be in there. I hate admitting that. Blaine's room, Kurt," Noah shook his head. "It isn't a place you want to be."

Kurt's mouth pulled downwards at the corners as Noah finished speaking. They stopped outside of Blaine's door and Noah took him by the shoulders. "You're scared as hell, Kurt. I get it, believe me. We all love Blaine. We all get it. If you go in there, you have to keep it together. Don't say anything to compromise yourself, please. Blaine wouldn't want that, and since he can't tell you that I have to in his place. Keep it together…and prepare yourself."

Kurt shook Noah's hands off. Now that he had calmed down, the broken, despairing looks on both Sam and Noah's faces made guilt tear through him. "Thank you," he whispered, hand on the door. "Both of you."

"Lead the way," Sam said. Kurt pushed open the door.

He opened the door slowly. He had expected the antechamber to be deserted, but it wasn't. Angelica sat in a plush chair pushed to the side of the room, crying unabashedly on the shoulder of a boy slightly older than her who was looking thoroughly uncomfortable as he patted her shoulder consolingly.

Angelica looked up at the sound of the door. Frantic eyes lit on him and Kurt felt his heart tighten. Her eyes were drops of emerald green on a pink backdrop of bloodshot whites. Kurt thought ironically that crying blood wasn't so far off. Blaine's sister drew a gasping, shaky breath and launched herself off of her younger comforter's shoulder and into Kurt's outstretched arms.

He held her tightly as her small fists balled up in the fabric of his shirt and she pressed the side of her face against his chest. Kurt's hands shook as he stroked Angelica's hair quietly. For a long moment everyone stood in suspended animation: the boy looking uncomfortable, Noah and Sam with pained faces, Kurt's heart beating like a hummingbird's wings in his chest, and Angelica trying to talk through the haze of choked sobs that prevented her from forming speech.

"Hush," Kurt instructed, pulling away and rubbing away her tears with his thumb. "Were you there?"

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. Kurt knew what she was trying to do, and he also knew it wouldn't work. He wished that closing his eyes banished the image but he almost saw it more clearly. Blaine lived on the inside of his eyelids, stuck through, face turned toward the noontime sun. He had seen from the moment he met her that Angelica revered her brother as her hero. He wished that she didn't have to carry around that image forever. He wished that her childhood could have lasted just a bit longer.

"T-they won't let me in," she stuttered finally, voice hiccoughing between sobs. "I don't think I want to go in." A few more tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "P-please don't let Blaine die, Kurt, please," she pleaded, grabbing his hand. "He would do anything for you. Please…ask him not to die. I'll d-do anything, anything at all. M-my b-brother –" Her voice cracked and cut out. She ducked her head and put a hand over her mouth to stifle an involuntary sob.

Kurt's heart felt huge and vulnerable in his chest, and he imagined that anyone could reach out to touch it and it would explode. "It doesn't work like that, love," he whispered, voice weak. She didn't say anything, but turned away from him slightly.

A door to the left opened. Kurt knew that it opened into a hall that led to Blaine's bedchamber. A man he didn't recognize stepped out. He was tall with just a faint grey streak in his dark hair and a stern brow.

"No," he said immediately when he saw the group. "No one is allowed here but family. Who are you?"

Kurt's brow drew together. "Who are you?" Noah retorted. "We're knights of Algania, and friends of Blaine." Sam glanced at him but didn't say anything. "And this is Prince Kurt."

The man's face shifted. "Apologies," he said, the words strained and false. "People have been trying to enter – commoners and others." He shook his head. "I don't know how they get to this point. Your Highness," he said to Kurt, bending at the waist. "I'm Laqueus, Healer Medice's apprentice from the village. He called me for assistance."

Kurt's mouth opened but he didn't speak. What would he say? Is Blaine alright? It was asinine. He knew that he wasn't alright. He knew it all too well.

"You weren't here earlier," Sam said suspiciously. "We were allowed in with him a few hours ago."

Laqueus turned his eyes to the floor. "He's taken a turn for the worse, I'm afraid," he said quietly.

Kurt's heart jolted. "I have to see him," he said frantically.

Laqueus shook his head. "No one is allowed beyond here."

"Let him pass, Laqueus," said a weary voice from behind the apprentice. He turned, revealing Gemma. Her curls hung limp around her face and her shoulders sagged. "Blaine would want him there."

Laqueus's lips tightened but he didn't argue. He merely inclined his head and walked back down the hall. Kurt turned toward Noah and Sam expectantly.

Noah shook his head. "I can't," he said weakly.

"You should go on alone," Sam said. He took a deep breath. "We'll have plenty of time to see him later."

Kurt hesitated, looking back at Angelica, who had sat down again next to the boy Kurt figured must be Jameson. He appeared genuinely concerned as he watched Angelica, and Kurt decided that they would be in good hands without him.

Gemma reached out and touched his shoulder. Kurt nodded and walked through the door with her. "Don't be startled," Gemma said as they walked down the short hall. "He's half awake, but not lucid."

Kurt nodded again, his heart fluttering. When he stepped into the bedchamber proper, his breath hitched in his throat. The metallic tang of fresh blood hung in the air and Kurt saw several buckets filled with blood soaked rags pushed into a corner of the room. Medice sat in a chair at the head of Blaine's bed, looking weary. Laqueus stood to the side, arms crossed. Kurt tried to ignore the various metallic instruments set out across a white cloth on a nearby table.

Worse than any smell or the shivers that crawled up his spine upon sight of the tools was the image of Blaine himself. He lay on his bed on top of extra linen. His arms and legs were drawn flat and Kurt realized with a start that his wrists and ankles were strapped down to keep him from flailing. He tried nonetheless, straining against the bonds and tossing his head left and right on his pillow. A gauze bandage was wrapped around his upper hips and stomach, and the red stain on it seemed to spread before Kurt's eyes.

Blaine's face was wan, the dark pits of his eyes standing out against the pale of his face. His eyelids fluttered but never opened fully. Sounds ranging from whimpers to small cries escaped him.

Kurt wanted to get closer and to run away at the same time. This couldn't be reality. Blaine, his Blaine, couldn't be lying on his bed, dying from a sword wound, writhing like some sick nightmare out of the most dreaded recesses of his mind. He reached out a hand to Gemma to steady himself. Blaine swam in and out of focus in front of him.

"Kurt?" Gemma asked, her voice ringing in his ears. "Oh dear, are you alright? I did hear that you hit your head when you –"

"I'm fine," Kurt said, blinking away his sudden dizziness. "I'm fine. God, look at me. I'm fine. Blaine…oh Blaine…" He stepped hesitantly toward Blaine's bedside and ran a shaking hand through his hair. He walked around to the side opposite of Medice. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched Blaine's bound hand lightly. Blaine made a hoarse choking noise followed by breathless gasps, as if he was having a nightmare. Kurt closed his eyes to regain his composure.

"Your Highness?" asked Medice gently.

"What?" Kurt asked, opening his eyes again. He followed Medice's gaze, which was looking at the hand Kurt had touched. Kurt had moved his hand back to his side, but Blaine's hand strained toward him in spite of the binding preventing its movement. "W-what does that mean? Does he know I'm here?"

"Possibly," Medice said. "He's lost too much blood. That's our major concern right now." He shook his head solemnly. "Stomach wounds…you've been to battle, Prince Kurt. You know what they can do."

"I know," Kurt said, looking at Blaine. He wanted to imagine that if he looked away from the bloodstains Blaine could be sleeping, but the image didn't connect. Blaine's face contorted in pain. His skin wasn't a natural color. He looked frail, and more vulnerable than Kurt had ever seen him. He looked like he was dying. "Give me good news, Medice, please."

"Prince Kurt…"

"Please," Kurt said. "It doesn't matter how small the hope is, just…please. We're…he's my best friend." It wasn't a lie. He turned from Blaine to look at Medice. Doctors wore a certain expression when a patient of theirs wouldn't make it. Kurt refused to acknowledge that look on Medice's face.

"Hope is never totally lost," Medice said. "May I speak openly, Your Highness?"

"Always, Medice," Kurt said, "and call me Kurt, please."

"The blade entered here." Medice pointed to a spot below Blaine's bellybutton and to his right. "There aren't any vital organs in the immediate vicinity. If it had entered here." He pointed to a spot on Blaine's upper left chest. "It might have hit his heart, which would have killed him immediately. Speaking relatively, Your Highness…Kurt…the location of the injury isn't as bad as it might be."

"That's good, isn't it?" Kurt asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple," Medice said. "Initially, before I cleaned him and saw the location of the wound, I thought that the blade had perforated his stomach. That would have accounted for the blood he spat up. But when I cleaned off the external blood, I saw that wasn't the case." Medice drew a finger through the air just higher than Blaine's bellybutton. "See, the stomach ends here, several inches below the ribcage. Blaine's injury is below that, and on the wrong side of the body. That's good news."

"Alright," Kurt said. "So the bleeding stops and he gets better."

Medice looked hesitant. "Perhaps. No place in the torso is a good place to be stabbed, Kurt, and below the stomach and all the way down to the hips are various entrails, any one of which could have been run through, causing internal bleeding," Medice explained.

"But they'll heal, won't they?" Kurt asked impatiently.

"If a vital intestine has been pierced through," Medice said, "I'm afraid not. Stomach fluids and other wastes would escape it and fill the abdominal cavity. Once there, they would start to eat away at and infect the other organs. Even if the tear could be sewn up – and that would be his only hope – I wouldn't have any means to keep him alive through the procedure. He's lost too much blood already. Anything I do will risk his death. The external bleeding can be controlled to a certain extent because we can see where it's coming from, but if I make a mistake trying to fix him, I could cause internal bleeding, or make what's already there worse."

Kurt breathed shakily. He thought he could feel different parts of his hearts shattering away, as brittle and fragile as glass. "What do we do?" he asked hopelessly. He heard a muffled sniffle from the corner and glanced at Gemma. She had backed against the far wall and was looking at her son with tears in her eyes and hands clasped over her mouth.

Medice shrugged. "Pray to God," he said. "It might be just low enough, or offset enough, to have missed the entrails. That said, he hasn't stopped bleeding. People bleed out faster than you'd think. Sometimes it takes less than an hour, other times it could take days. We won't know until we come to it. After that, the wound still has to heal. Infection is a ruthless adversary, I'm afraid, especially since we don't know where the blade has been. It's a long path to recovery, and it's narrow and riddled with obstacles."

"Thank you," Kurt said, "for telling the truth." Medice nodded, his eyes fixed once more on Blaine's hand, still reaching out to Kurt. All the while, Blaine hadn't ceased twisting on the linens, and the red stain hadn't stopped growing on his bandages.

"Your Highness," Medice said contemplatively. "Might I ask you something?"

"Kurt," he corrected. "Yes, please."

"You've heard stories, I'm sure," Medice said. "Of men on the battlefield, who have been all but given up for lost and yet somehow make a miraculous discovery. It's always due to something little, like the memory of their family back home, or a stream of encouraging words from a fellow soldier."

Medice's eyes twinkled knowingly. Kurt realized that he must have learned about what he had done for Arthur on the return from Vilnius. He'd known all those years, and never let on. "I've heard them," Kurt said quietly.

"Look at that," Medice said, nodding to Blaine's hand. "He won't stop twisting, and it's making him bleed out faster. If he keeps up at this rate…well, he doesn't have very much time left. I would give him something to make him rest, but until I know the extent of the damage to his insides, I wouldn't trust giving him anything but water. Perhaps if you talk to him, he might listen. It's a long shot, but it almost looks as if he recognized the touch of your hand. You asked what you can do…you can do this."

"Just talk?" Kurt asked nervously, sitting in a straight-backed chair that Laqueus pushed up to him.

"Just talk," Medice confirmed. "We can leave the room for a few minutes if you'd rather."

"No," Kurt said quickly. "No. Stay, please." He didn't want to be alone with Blaine. He wouldn't know what to do if he took a sudden turn for the worse. Gingerly, he scooted the chair closer to Blaine and leaned over his writhing form.

"B-Blaine?" Kurt started. "It's me…Kurt. It's Kurt." Hesitantly, he reached out and took Blaine's hand. He looked up to Medice questioningly, and the old man nodded. "You're hurt. Well, you know that of course. You were really, stupidly brave about the whole thing. But then, I suppose that you've always been stupidly brave about everything for as long as I can remember. Y-you remember on the way to Lithuania? That sword that got under your armor and cut from under your arm all the way across your back? We talked about it when…no…" Kurt shook his head. They hadn't actually talked about it. That had been part of his dream. "W-well, I was scared to death then, out on the battlefield. This is…considerably worse." He cleared his throat, trying not to choke up. "I wish I could have been there to save you this time, too. I guess we can never be there when we most want to, either of us."

He stopped talking at the touch of a hand to his shoulder. Laqueus stood behind him, eyes on Blaine. With a surge of hope, Kurt realized that Blaine had stopped moving around. He still made choked noises and whimpers. His eyelids still fluttered and his eyes zoomed back and forth under his lids frantically, but he no longer thrashed. Kurt looked down at their hands to see that Blaine had taken a loose grip on his hand. While he had been talking, he hadn't even noticed.

"Look," Kurt said, looking up at Medice eagerly. "Look, that's good! That's good, isn't it?"

"As good as can be expected," Medice said with a small smile. "Every journey starts with a single step."

Kurt slowly turned to look back to Blaine. "You hear that?" he asked quietly. "It's the first step on your recovery journey." Kurt suddenly remembered what Angelica had said to him. "Angie's worried about you, Blaine – really worried. She asked me…well, she said that she thought you'd do anything for me, so she begged me to ask you not to die." Kurt smiled sadly. He was glad that Angelica wasn't allowed in Blaine's room. He didn't think the sight of Blaine was much consolation. "If not just for me, you have to heal for Angie…for your mother…everybody."

Kurt lapsed into silence. For long moments, he simply looked at Blaine and periodically stroked the back of his hand gently. It was the only place on Blaine that Kurt dared to touch for fear of breaking him.

"You can go if you wish, Your Highness," said Laqueus. "We'll inform you if anything changes."

"No, thank you," Kurt said. "I want to stay. I have to stay." They fell into silence again. There was nothing more to be said.

Kurt woke with a jolt. He looked around, vision blurry. "W-where am I?" he asked, sitting up. His neck could hardly move for stiffness and he had a painful kink in his back, reminding him that he was still in Blaine's bedchamber. His knock to the head was playing with his mind and making things fuzzy and confusing. "Oh Lord," Kurt said through gritted teeth. "Ow. Ah…how long was I asleep?"

"Only a few hours," said Medice. When Kurt had fallen asleep it had been only Laqueus looking after Blaine, so he had been asleep long enough for them to switch watch. "I was hesitant to wake you." He nodded to Kurt's hand, which was still interlocked with Blaine's. "It seems like you're a suitable natural sedative. It's an hour or so past daybreak now."

"Thank you," Kurt said, "I didn't want to leave. My neck isn't thanking me for it though." He rolled his head around several times, trying to stretch out the sore, kinked muscles. As much as could be expected, he had enjoyed sitting with Blaine. After the first visitor had tried and almost failed to gain admittance to see Blaine – Queen Vivienne – Kurt had given Laqueus a fierce glare. The apprentice had grudgingly amended his no-admittance rule to allow set numbers in to see Blaine. Starting with Vivienne, a small procession trickled in and out all night, showing Kurt just how many people truly cared about Blaine.

"Take an hour," Medice instructed. "Blaine hasn't gotten worse tonight. He's still bleeding, but it's lightened a bit since he's calmed down. He'll be fine for the next hour, and you need to get out of this room."

Grudgingly, Kurt knew he was right. "A half hour," Kurt insisted. "I just need to move my legs. I'll be back before you know I'm gone."

"I'm sure you will," Medice said with a small smile.

Kurt left Blaine's rooms knowing where he would go. Angelica and Gemma were gone from the antechamber and bedroom, so Kurt figured they must have gone to get some sleep. He walked quickly to his room to change, splashed some water on his face, and grabbed a hooded cloak. He was walking out of the palace no more than ten minutes after he left Blaine's room.

He left through the kitchen. It was crowded with cooks preparing food for the day and he managed to slip through unnoticed. Kurt made a beeline for the hedge maze. He threaded in and out of the twists and turns expertly, even after so much time away from home, until he reached Fons Fortunae at its center.

He dipped fingers into his shirt pocket and pulled out a dull gold coin. "Prove that you work," Kurt said, stepping up to the fountain's edge. "I asked you once before to not let anything hurt Blaine. You haven't done a very good job of it, but…I need to ask again. His fate has been left to nothing but chance, and that's a risk I can't live with. If there's any power in this, I need it behind Blaine now, carrying him through. Please. Heal him." Kurt pressed his lips to the coin briefly, said a last prayer over it, and held his breath as he flicked it into the water.

The coin sunk to the bottom of the fountain and nestled among the hundreds of other coins arrayed at the bottom. His wish was one among many. Kurt wondered how many of them had come true, or if any of them had been given with the desperation and love he had put into his own wish.

That done, Kurt lifted up the hood of his cloak, fastened it around his neck, and walked into the town of Lima. Before leaving to Westerville, Kurt had hardly ever visited the village. He never had a need to. Everything he needed and loved had been up at the castle. Now, the person he loved most was caught in a life-or-death battle, and whether in the castle or out of it, Kurt couldn't do anything to help him. A walk in the village, with its myriad of scents and sights and sounds, would prove a welcome distraction for half an hour or so.

Hood up, he knew that his face was cast in shadow and no one would recognize him. It was a stuffy disguise on a hot day, but it was better than being recognized. It allowed him to walk around unnoticed, with people treating him as if he was just another Lima villager.

As much as could be expected, Kurt enjoyed his walk around town. He used a copper coin to buy a flower at a flower cart, and he gave it to a random, rather downcast looking woman he passed on the street. She brightened up when he bent at the waist and offered it to her, and gaped after his back as he walked away. He grabbed the shoulder of a little boy who almost ran in front of a horse-drawn cart to fetch a toy, and spent the next few minutes receiving the thanks of the boy's mother.

Finally, he settled back on a long bench in the town square, enjoying one last look around before he went back to the castle.

"May I?" Kurt looked up from under his hood to see a plump, middle-aged woman. She looked vaguely familiar, though Kurt didn't know where he could possibly recognize her from. Her dress was slightly more worn than that of many other people, indicating a poorer class of peasant. In spite of that, she was clean, and her red hair, streaked with grey, was assembled in a neat bun.

"Please," Kurt said, moving over on the bench to accommodate her.

"Ah, thank ya, dear," she said, sighing as she sat down. She chuckled amicably. "Not e'en midmorn' and my feet already need a break."

Kurt smiled, though he knew she couldn't see it. "It seems to be that kind of day," he said, voice trembling over the last words.

She clucked at him in concern and looked him over worriedly. "What now, m'dear? What's weighin' on yer min'?" Kurt shook his head. "It ne'er does good to keep tha' sort of thing inside, love."

Perhaps, Kurt thought, he could mention the truth. Much of the town had been there after all, and it might be therapeutic to speak with someone who didn't know who he was. "I heard there was a knight injured yesterday," he started cautiously. The woman's breath hitched. "In a duel with the king. There was…foul play."

He peered at the woman's reaction from under his hood. Her face had turned from cheerful to grave in a moment. "Aye," she said, almost bitterly. She sniffed, and Kurt saw that her eyes were over bright. "Blaine, 'is name was. Sir Blaine. Well, ya know all the stories abou' Sir Blaine."

"No," Kurt said softly, hardly daring to breathe.

"O' course ya do," she told him. "Tales from the war with the tribes in the north. Bound by the king t' the castle fer almos' a year, on account of 'e wouldn't stop lookin' for the prince. It's a horrid, horrid thing wha' 'appened yes'erday."

"Careful," Kurt said, testing his words. "Some people might think you're speaking something awfully close to treason."

"Ah." She spit on the ground at her feet. Kurt's eyes widened and he looked back at her face. Her eyes still shimmered, a tear or two had escaped, and she was looking up toward the sky. With a start, Kurt realized where he recognized her from.

"You're the woman," he whispered before he could stop himself.

"Hmm?" The woman looked down and wiped her tears away hastily. "Wha' was tha', m'dear?"

"Nothing," Kurt said hastily, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her. It was her – the woman who had held Blaine's head. Kurt could see her, apron stained with Blaine's blood, cradling his head and lifting her face to the sky as tears poured from her cheeks. "What's your name?"

"Aurem Custos," she said, holding out her hand to him. Kurt took it, his natural instinct to lift it to his lips, but she shook his hand vigorously instead. He smiled in spite of himself. "I was there," she informed him. "I saw e'erything – e'erything that 'appened to that poor boy."

"Have you heard anything about him?" Kurt asked, curious as to how much people in the village knew. "Is he alive?"

"I pray for 'im," she said fiercely. "Las' I 'ear, he's still alive, bein' tended to by them fancy 'ealers in the palace. M'dear?" Kurt, face shadowed by his clock still, turned toward her. "I've been talkin' an awful lot. Wha' d'you think abou' wha' 'appened?"

"I think," Kurt said slowly. "That we don't need someone who would do that leading this country." The words had been hammering on the inside of his head and to finally voice them made his shoulders sink in relief.

"Aye," Aurem said slowly. "Well, then…" She was quiet for a few moments, and when she spoke again, it was in a whisper. "Tie it to yer clothes." She reached out, took his hand, and pressed a small bit of fabric into his palm.

He opened his hand. It in it sat several inches of ribbon. "Scarlet," Kurt said. "Westerville colors."

"Aye," Aurem said. "Sir Blaine's 'ome fief. It's fer those of us who'll believe in 'im until the end." Kurt's eyes traveled up to Aurem's hair again. This time, he noticed that it was held back with a scarlet ribbon identical to the one she'd given him. "Fer those of us who know the truth about wha' the king did. Fer those of us who are ready fer a better future."

Kurt gaped in response to her words. Her faith in Blaine and her passion for his wellbeing made Kurt's heart soar with hope. Suddenly, he felt choked up. He burst to his feet and took her hand. "Thank you," he said, forgoing her earlier mode of greeting by bending over it in the way he knew how and kissing the back of her hand gently. "But be careful who give these to." She nodded, looking confused.

He turned to go, but turned back to Aurem to give her one last thanks. "Aurem, thank you, truly," he said. "I – I was there…at the duel. I saw you holding Blaine's head up so it wouldn't fall backward, with no thought for the blood across your dress or on your hands."

"The boy deserves some dignity," she maintained, "no matter wha' 'appens. 'E fought like a hero. 'E is a hero. Tha's why we'll support 'im, in life an' death. Tha's why we'll champion 'is cause, no matter wha'. Look fer the ribbons as ya walk. You'll see yer allies."

"I will," Kurt promised.

"Wai'," Aurem said, standing and touching his shoulder as he moved away. "I didn't catch yer name."

Preparing himself for her reaction, Kurt reached up and pulled back his hood enough for her to see his face. Aurem gasped and took a step back, a hand over her chest in shock. "Y-Yer Hi –"

"Shh," Kurt said quietly, reaching out and touching her hand. She stared at the spot he touched as he reached out to her. "You're not in trouble – quite the opposite." Feeling daring, and with little to lose, he continued. "You have friends in the palace, including Blaine." He held up the ribbon. "I'll be telling them about these." She nodded as he spoke, looking stupefied. "I might be in touch with you before long, Aurem Custos," he told her. He smiled reassuringly before pulling his hood back. "And please, call me Kurt."

She stared at him with wide eyes as he turned and walked away. Kurt felt considerably better than he did an hour ago, and as he made his way back through the village, he saw a handful of people with a scarlet ribbon incorporated slyly into their clothes or hair.

A new fire lit in his belly, he returned to the castle with a new, fierce resolution. He found Noah in the library. "The movement," Kurt said shortly. He glanced around to make sure they were alone and then set the ribbon down in front of him. "I was just in town. As of now…you can count me in." He braced his arms on the table and leaned forward. "What now?"

Looking intrigued, Noah picked up the ribbon and turned it over in his hands. "A color revolution," he mused quietly. "Brilliant." He looked up at Kurt. "Now? Now we get to work."

A/N: Hopefully this makes some people people feel better! I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible to ease some minds so I hope it worked. I loved hearing what everyone thought of the last chapter (yes, everyone! :D) and I'd love to hear you all again! A few of you sillies seem to want to apologize for embarrassing yourself. Does...not...compute. I'm the queen of embarrassing myself so fear not, for you could never take the title from me! (Shall we duel for it? Ahhh, bad puns. See what I mean? Embarrassing.)

Thanks for reading, my lovelies! :3