A/N: This chapter isn't as long as the last one, unfortunately, and it was initially going to be only half of one chapter, but I decided to split them up after I finished this section. I hadn't gotten out an update in way too long! On another note, I FREAKING LOVE MY REVIEWERS. You guys are all just so...GAHHH SO ADORABLE. And you say such nice things all the time, my heart wants to explode with every one I read! I love you guys, thanks for being awesome!

Enjoy!

Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania

"Kurt. Kurt." He was being shaken.

In his dream, Kurt had initially been happy. He had been lying in Westerville's grape orchards with Blaine, side by side, as they had been before they'd left. It was hot, too hot, hotter than summer ought to be. Kurt lifted his head from where it laid on Blaine's chest and opened his eyes to see fire raging around them, consuming every vine it touched. Kurt saw leaves burn away and almost mature grapes shrivel before his eyes.

He scurried to his feet, head swiveling to take in the raging fire that surrounded them. Frantically, he whirled around to grab Blaine's hand and haul him to his feet so they could run. Kurt tugged at him but Blaine was limp. He wouldn't wake. Kurt strained futilely against Blaine's dead weight, but he could hardly move him.

The fire advanced upon them as Kurt finally grabbed Blaine under both arms and tried to hoist him away. His eyes didn't open, and his head banged around haphazardly with no muscle interference. Kurt wouldn't leave him. He would rather die running with Blaine in his arms than live alone.

The flames advanced upon them, hot, scarlet, burning, and ruthless. When they hit Kurt, he dropped to his knees. In place of physical pain that he would logically feel, Kurt writhed in the throes of the emptiness that came with the destruction, right before his eyes, of one half of his heart.

"Kurt. Kurt." The voice came again, bringing Kurt to the surface of reality. His eyes fluttered and he squirmed in his sheets, disoriented. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his bare chest was clammy and cold to the touch.

"Shh, quiet, Kurt. It was just a dream." A cool hand stroked the soaked bangs off of his hot forehead, and he felt cool rings press against his skin.

"Aunt Vivienne," Kurt muttered, waking fully and sitting up. He took several deep breaths to slow his gasps. "It was a nightmare. I was…there was fire."

"Kurt," Vivienne interrupted. "I came to wake you. I thought that you would want to see." She averted her eyes. "I couldn't sleep, so I decided to sit in Blaine's room for a while."

Kurt snapped to attention. "Tell me," he said quickly. It had been more than a week since the duel. For half of it, Blaine teetered on the brink, but after about three days, his wounds clotted, the bleeding stopped, and they all heaved a collective sigh of relief. Just two days ago, Blaine had fully and lucidly woken up for the first time. Everything had seemed to be on a good track, and Medice had felt confident enough to feed Blaine room temperature soft fruit – he was hydrated, but had desperately needed nutrition.

"Half an hour ago," Vivienne started. "Well, you'd better come, Kurt…j-just in case." Her breath hitched and she put her fingertips over her mouth. "In case of the worst."

Kurt felt sick. He lurched to his feet, slipped on a shirt that he had cast over the back of a chair earlier, and didn't bother changing into a different pair of breeches before following Gemma into the hall. Things had been going so well. He had even dared to hope that Blaine would be alright after all. To calm himself, he drew his mind back to the last kiss they had shared.

People, two or three of them, were always in Blaine's room – Sam, or Noah, or Gemma, or Finn, or even Duke Burton. After Blaine had begun to heal, Angelica also stayed with her brother from time to time. People's constant worry about Blaine was one of the things that Kurt had been touched by most. Even so, there had been a moment when it had been only him and Blaine. Blaine had been taking a nap, and Kurt was reading in the corner.

"You're here," Blaine said.

Kurt looked up and hurried to Blaine's bedside. "I'm here," he confirmed.

"Still?" Blaine smiled weakly and opened his hand, resting on the bed, palm up.

Kurt returned the smile and took it gently. "Always," he said.

"Kurt?" Blaine pressed his eyes together, as if something had suddenly pained him.

Kurt struggled to keep his voice level. "What?" Blaine looked healthier than he had yet and Kurt didn't want to startle him by fussing incessantly over one little action.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Anything."

Blaine's eyes opened. Pain sat behind their amber sheen, tearing Kurt's heart up. "Kiss me? Please? For a while…when I saw the sword…and then there was a lot of light, and then blackness, and then…pain. I thought I'd never get to feel you touch me again. Th-that thought…scarier than any pain I could ever go through."

Kurt's breath trembled on his inhale, and he wiped away a tear that escaped and traced a chilly line down his cheek. He leaned forward and placed his lips against Blaine's delicately. He lingered there for a long moment, chaste in his method, before lifting a hand to smooth over Blaine's cheek and leaning away.

"I love you," Blaine whispered. "You do know that, don't you?"

"Shh," Kurt hushed him, throat clogged with tears. "Don't talk; you need to save your strength." He wiped away his tears hastily. "I know. Above all else, I do know that."

"Good," Blaine said. He was short of breath, as if he had been sprinting. He laid his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked quietly after a moment, but Blaine was already asleep.

"He was doing fine," Vivienne said, interrupting Kurt's reverie. "All night, and not a peep out of him. About an hour ago, I realized he was feverish so I called Medice."

"Why were you with him?" Kurt asked, curious.

If he hadn't known better, Kurt would have sworn that he saw his aunt blush. "Blaine is a fine knight, and an even better person. He does not deserve this lot that he has been given. I feel a certain…obligation to see to his well-being. My son…my son was responsible for this."

"Aunt Vivienne, that isn't your fault," Kurt started.

"It may as well be," she interrupted. "Parents are responsible for their children. If something I've done has led to this, I'll never be able to forgive myself. Now, when it's too late, I'm powerless to do anything."

Kurt didn't say anything, so Vivienne continued. "Half an hour ago, he started vomiting up the food that Medice gave him last night. There's…there's blood, Kurt, a lot of blood."

"No," Kurt muttered, burying his face in his hands. His steps faltered, the world swam and he had to brace his shoulder against the wall.

Vivienne laid a hand on his shoulder. "Quickly, Kurt, please," she beseeched him. "Medice said that he didn't know how long –"

"Don't," Kurt warned sharply. "Don't you dare say it. We don't know what will happen. We don't." Vivienne shook her head minutely and observed him levelly until he regained his composure and resumed walking.

When they entered Blaine's rooms, Kurt could hear retching from the bedroom. He rushed in to see Medice holding a bucket and supporting Blaine's frame as he shook and trembled with fever, and expelled the contents of his stomach.

"Oh my God," Kurt whispered when Blaine looked up at him. His amber eyes were haunted and pained. His bottom jaw hung slack, exposing teeth covered in a veneer of scarlet blood. Similarly, blood trickled down the front of his chin, standing out morbidly against his wan skin.

"K-K-K," Blaine stuttered, the words choking off in his throat as he bent over the bucket again. Kurt raced forward and climbed up onto the bed next to Blaine so he could support the other man's weak frame, which didn't have the strength to support itself.

Medice, who had previously been doing two tasks, let go of Blaine and took a double-handed grip in the bucket. Kurt looked at it and immediately regretted the decision. The contents of the bucket were mixed with chunks of something unthinkable and more than a little blood.

"Blaine," Kurt muttered softly, holding onto Blaine's shoulders. He leaned his head on Blaine's back briefly. "Shh, relax. Try to relax your muscles."

Blaine's entire body shook. He finished heaving and Kurt leaned away so Medice could lower Blaine back onto his pillows. He swiped a wet cloth gently over Blaine's chin and neck, cleaning away the blood. He offered Blaine a small cup of water to wash out his mouth, but Blaine's hands were trembling too much to grip the cup. Medice aided him in that, as well.

"Y-you're h-here," Blaine said weakly.

Kurt was still kneeling on an edge of the large bed, his arms drawn around himself tightly. "I'm here." He hadn't noticed before, but Blaine's cheeks had hollowed out so that he no longer looked healthy. Dark smudges were spread under his eyes and his bones stuck out at sharp, gaunt angles. After only a week, it seemed impossible that he should look as such, but Medice had warned that no nutrition coupled with healing and fending off infection might do such a thing to him.

"S-still?" A weak smile played on Blaine's lips, but this time Kurt didn't return it. Blaine's breath hitched and he sunk back on the pillows.

"What is it?" Kurt asked, finally getting to his feet on the ground.

Medice shook his head seriously. To the side, Laqueus removed buckets and replaced them with clean ones. "Risk a look," Medice whispered. He lifted Blaine's bandage to expose his wound, and Kurt gasped upon sight of it. The edges were angry, and red radiated across his stomach. "Infection. It set in quickly, overnight, and he has a fever."

"It isn't as bad as he makes it seem," Blaine muttered. "I'll be in fighting shape in no time. I can barely feel it – ahh!" He clutched his side and fresh spots of blood appeared in his mouth, though he didn't vomit again.

"Don't talk," Medice instructed him, firmly but not unkindly. "Just relax, like Kurt said a moment ago."

After a moment, Blaine nodded and leaned his head back again. He looked exhausted, though all he was doing was trying to exist. The four of them settled into an awkward silence.

"Blaine," Vivienne said finally, breaking the tension. Her voice was soft and soothing. "Would you like see your mother, perhaps? I could fetch her."

"Th-that would be good," Blaine told her, smiling as she stepped toward him. She touched his hand lightly and returned his smile before turning to leave the room. "Your Majesty?"

"Please, dear," Vivienne said. "There's no need for such formalities. Vivienne will do just fine."

"Thank you," Blaine said. Kurt looked back and forth between his aunt and his lover. His heart was racing, and it ached at seeing their fond interaction. "Thank you for being here with me. I was…scared when I woke up sick. Th-thank you."

Vivienne smiled sympathetically. "Oh my dear, you are very welcome. I'll be back before you know it." Kurt could feel tears trying to well in his eyes as he watched her go. Everything – every word anyone said, every action they made, and every glance they gave – put Kurt on the verge of tears. His emotions felt raw, exposed, and hyperactive.

"Kurt, do you mind watching over Blaine?" Medice asked. "Just for a moment or two. It's important that everything we might need stays stocked, and Laqueus can only carry so much."

"I don't mind," Kurt said listlessly.

"Walk with me to the door," Medice requested. It was apparent that Kurt didn't have an option in the matter, so he sighed and followed the old doctor. When they were out of the bedroom, he spoke again. "I wanted to speak with you out of Blaine's hearing. I don't think he can go on much longer like this."

Kurt closed his eyes. It was as if he was living in a dream – or rather, a horrible, horrible nightmare. "Like this?" Kurt asked, clinging to the implication of the words. "If the condition were to change?"

"That's his only hope. I would have to manipulate his condition myself. The skin is infected, and it's beginning to accumulate pus." Medice looked thoughtful as he explained. "There are several things to be done. I think at this point, we should apply all of the methods."

"Tell me."

"I want to clean it out with water that has been boiled first," Medice detailed. "There's dead tissue inside of the wound. It needs to be excised; it's making his reaction worse. I can cut that and the worst of the infection away. Think of it as a new start. But he'll need something to keep it healthy and to remove the rest of the infection from the skin."

"Do you have anything?" Kurt asked desperately.

Medice paused, and then shook his head. "But I know what we need. It's a country recipe. In the city, people think they can buy treatments that look fancy – like leeches to suck out the infection – but nothing works like a true, old-fashioned countryside remedy. It's usually used by shamans, tribe healers, those sorts. It's a poultice of onion, ginger, and other special ingredients. The art of making it has been lost to many people, so that it lives in in very few."

"Perfect," Kurt hissed. "Our only hope is out of reach. Unless you are one of those few?"

"I'm afraid not," Medice said genuinely. "But I've seen it used. When I was a young man, I studied foreign medicine everywhere from across the Mediterranean to the Far East. In the last place I stayed in the far north, there was a woman, my age – a brilliant healer, the best I have ever seen. I've witnessed her save many men with it."

"What do you want me to do?" Kurt asked hopelessly. "Travel north to your town and pray that the woman is still alive, only to bring her here to make the poultice in the hope that Blaine is…that he's –"

"She is alive," Medice said urgently. "She knows that I work here, in the royal palace. I heard from her for the first time in many, many years not long ago. The same day that you arrived, in fact. Her message came by some sort of trained bird, of all things. I didn't have a chance to respond to her before the duel." The old man shrugged. "After the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Blaine's injury, I hazarded to think several steps ahead. I wrote her the morning after, asking her if she was still in the practice of making her anti-infection poultice."

Kurt gaped. He had a newfound respect for Medice. "I'll get it," he said quickly. "If she sent you a message, she must be nearby. Where is she? I'll fetch her and the poultice." Kurt shook his head in wonder. "Now of all times in the past years. It's fate, Medice. What is she's meant to save Blaine?"

"Not fate," Medice said. Behind his eyes, Kurt could see that he knew something he wasn't sharing. "Her communication wasn't by chance. Before this happened, I had been planning on showing the letter to the king. Now, I dare not."

"What do you mean? Why?"

"She's sending an intermediary to meet you at the outskirts of town," Medice said. "You'll found out everything then. She promised that you would be safe, and that you would return unharmed, but I would urge you to bring a dagger. You'll meet the intermediary when the sun crests the horizon in several hours. Follow them to her, detail Blaine's condition as thoroughly as you can, and return to the castle swiftly."

"Why can't she come to the castle and see him for herself?" Kurt asked. "Surely that would be better?"

"She daren't," Medice said mysteriously. "All in good time, Kurt. Now, I'll be back soon, and then you had better start walking."

Extremely confused but with a bubble of new hope in his chest, Kurt returned to Blaine's bedroom.

"Alone at last," Blaine said quietly, as if every word were a struggle for him.

Kurt smiled in spite of himself. "You need to stop trying to be funny," he said, sitting by Blaine's side. He lifted a hand and ran it over Blaine's forehead, pushing the curls away. "You'll hurt yourself."

"I think that has already been accomplished," Blaine said. "I need to tell you something."

"Alright," Kurt said hesitantly.

"If…if I don't…if I don't make it," Blaine started.

"No," Kurt said immediately, shaking his head back and forth furiously. "No, you can't talk like that. You will make it. You'll get better. Medice knows how to treat you."

"Kurt." The word was quiet but it effectively silenced Kurt, though he continued to shake his head back and forth as tears welled in his eyes. "Please, just listen." Reluctantly, Kurt nodded. "You need to tell my mother and sister that I don't…I don't want them to go into mourning for long. I want them to…to…" He broke off coughing. Kurt scrambled for a cloth to hand him. Blaine took it and covered his mouth. Kurt rubbed his back as coughs wracked his skeletal frame, and when he took the cloth away, it was covered in a misting of blood.

"I w-want them to keep about things as they normally would," he continued finally. "The little monster can marry that horrid Jameson fellow one day. He's not actually so horrid at all. She told me yesterday that he sat with her for four days straight, trying to make her feel better." Blaine laughed weakly. "M-maybe my mother can remember me as a hero, not…not like this."

"You are a hero," Kurt said, his voice watery. "We won't have to remember you like anything, because you'll be right there next to us."

"Maybe," Blaine said unconvincingly. "You…you just need to know…that I don't regret…one second of our time. I don't regret that it…that it led me here. I would rather have lived with you against the law for a short time than lived with anyone else for thousands of years."

Kurt leaned over Blaine, his hand tracing his cheek lovingly, tears caught in his eyes. "Oh, Blaine…"

"It's true. We were apart so many times, for so long, but we were brought back together each time. Fate has a way of arranging what's right, don't you think?"

"We're proof," Kurt agreed. "That just means that you have to live then, because I can't be fated to live the rest of my days alone."

"That's what I w-wanted to say," Blaine labored. "I-if you…find someone else – someone like you. Love them Kurt, love them like we love each other now. You're so young. I c-can't stand the thought of you being alone forever because of me."

"I don't want to be with anyone who isn't you," Kurt whispered, leaning his forehead against Blaine's. "We'll be together, always." He took Blaine's hand and moved it over his heart. "And you'll always be here."

"One last thing," Blaine said. His trembling fingers struggled with the collar of his shirt until he finally got ahold of what he was fumbling for. Blaine pulled out Kurt's ring, still on the chain. "I thought I should return it."

"You've kept it on?" Kurt asked quietly. He reached out and traced the ring lightly with his fingertips.

"Good luck," Blaine said. "I don't think it worked the way it was supposed to."

"It worked exactly as it was supposed to," Kurt said, voice choked with unshed tears. "You're still alive." He took Blaine's hand, cupped it around the ring, and closed it. "When I get back, you can give it to me. You have to make it until then. You have to be alright."

Blaine smiled weakly. "I can try. We were born with a very deadly disease," he said ruefully. "Life. One hundred percent mortality."

"Not this time," Kurt said fiercely. He pressed his lips to Blaine's forehead, and then to his lips. He could taste the lingering tang of blood but he could not care less. He kissed Blaine with more force than he had the last time, lips insistent and reassuring.

He heard the door to the hall creak as it was opened, and clunk as it closed. Kurt kissed Blaine one last time swiftly, and was already standing up and leaning against a wall when Medice and Laqueus came in.

Medice looked at him meaningfully and Kurt moved toward the door. He looked back at Blaine before he left. The knight was looking after him with his amber eyes opened wide. His hand was still clutched around the ring. "Not this time," he repeated. This time, I'm going to save you. "This isn't goodbye."

A/N: My heart. Writing ill!Blaine is so heart-wrenching! I hope you guys were at least a little moved by it :D Two things in this chapter were borrowed from other places: 1) "Fate has a way of arranging what's right" - it's from Pocahontas II which I love in spite of hate it gets! 2) "We were born with a very deadly disease: life. 100% mortality." It's something my Italian professor said last quarter, and it was so powerful that it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I knew at that very moment that someone in this story would say it after the duel.

Sorry that I haven't gotten a chance to respond to last chapter's reviews yet! I'm so busy, it's actually crazy! I will get around to it, though!

Anyone have any predictions about what'll happen next? ;) I'm curious!

Let me know what you thought! I hope you all enjoyed, dftba!