A/N : I'm sorry that this one took twice as long as the usual. This is by far the hardest chapter that I wrote and I had to deal with major writer's block. I hope you like it though. For new readers, welcome and I hope you enjoy the bandwagon!

Disclaimer : I do not own Glee, but the plot of this story is mine

Faith and Revelation

The tangy taste of bile was still lingering on Kurt's mouth as he tried to get a hold of his surroundings. What he just saw, those dead bodies on the floor; it was only a dream, right? But . . . but why he still saw them? McKinley soldiers, his soldiers, scattered lifelessly everywhere his tired eyes dared to look just like what made him sick few moments ago.

That was not the only thing that was messing with his head. His fear of losing his family and friends were amplified a thousand times as if Kurt lived in that horrible reality. The fear was always there, occupying most space inside his head all these time so no matter how hard it was to see it sort of happened before him, he had it coming.

But then, there was Blaine . . .

If Kurt's arms were free instead of being pulled to the front by two Dalton soldiers and dragged his body along with them, he would have had use it to check his abdomen for stab wound, because he could still feel the pain vividly. He felt ashamed that deep down, he had this fear that Blaine would betray him. He was afraid that love had blinded him from seeing his enemy. He feared that all of this was just a giant play by Blaine to infiltrate his kingdom. To witness his deepest fear became reality in the worst way possible added to the pain on his fake wound.

His already blurry vision got worse when what seemed to be the last amount of tears spilled without any resistance. It did not matter anyway, what he taught of Blaine. At this point, he was sure that the prince was long gone already and it was a matter of time before Kurt joined him in.

If only they met in different circumstances. If only Kurt was a Dalton or Blaine was a McKinley. If only there were no kingdoms. If only they were not a prince. If only there was no war. If only the Third World existed and gave them a second chance to be together. If only he could be with his loved ones without having any worries that someone might took them away. If only . . .

Kurt's blur vision of the cold marble below him came to a sudden stop as his captors abruptly stopped. There were noises around him; familiar mad voices coming from his back and the others murmuring too quiet for Kurt to neither know nor care. He did not even have the strength to lift his head anymore. Soon enough, they dragged him again through a giant door that registered to his tired mind too late that they were entering the Great Hall. How fitting, to be executed in front of his father's throne.

They dragged him for a couple more steps until they seemed satisfied and dropped him unceremoniously to the ground, face first. The impact worsened his headache and he failed to bit back his groan. Someone was laughing right in front of him but Kurt still refused to raise his head, because if he looked up, his nightmare would be a true reality. So he simply shut his eyes tight and prayed to McKinley that he would die first rather than watching anyone else he loved did before him.

Faint steps getting louder and louder were telling Kurt that someone was approaching him. Strange enough, Kurt never felt calmer knowing that his time was almost up. His mind was flooded by the images of his parents, the Queen, his friends, and . . .

"Kurt Hummel."

That voice.

It couldn't be.

That must be his injured head, playing tricks with his sense.

There was no way the owner of that sound was who he thought was.

To proof that he was wrong, he slowly struggled to get up using his palms and knees. Everything hurt to him but Kurt had to know the man who was apparently standing above him. He ended up on both of his knees, unable to do more than that, but it was enough for him to finally look up and took the sight.

No no no no no . . .

Gods, no.

Too much thoughts jumbling on his mind but one thing stuck up just like the sword that impaled him few moments ago.

If only this was another nightmare of his.

Blaine considered it a miracle that he had not died from a heart attack by now, because his heart felt as if it wanted to jump off his chest.

Ever since Finn screwed up his original plan and got himself caught, Blaine had to improvise to save them both (and the Queen, apparently). Knowing his father's limitation, he had come up with a new plan. He did not like it, but it was his only option.

The plan was to wait until his father had to recharge his power from someone else. He usually picked one of his men with the power of total body control, just like what he had right now. Sometimes he chose Jeremiah or Wes, depends on the situation and his current mood. The good news was that Blaine was the only one closer enough to him and he should keep it that way. So when his power was running out, Blaine could immediately block his mouth to prevent him from using his power. He would even use the Soldier Pill from Lord Dalton to take him out.

The bad news was he did not know when that time would come. It was his time that was running out.

Blaine's hand formed a steel grip on his sword's handle as he watched Jeremiah beating up immobilized Finn merciless. On the fifth kick to the poor man's stomach, Blaine had to look away. Every now and then, he took a glance at his father's expression to see if the time had come but he saw nothing except the same glee tingling on his eyes.

He counted to ten before he interrupted Jeremiah, hoping that he sounded bored enough and not panicking over the state of Finn.

"Jeremiah, you'll end up killing him if you keep doing that."

The soldier finally stopped and gave him questioning look.

Finn, on the other hand, lay too still much to Blaine's worries. He only managed to calm down a bit when he saw Finn's eyes were blinking sluggishly toward no certain direction. He pitied him for the full impact of pain that he would feel once Jeremiah lifted his power.

"I thought that's what I'm supposed to do?"

"My father said you can rough him up a bit, not beat him to his death." Blaine took a step toward Finn and made the Dalton soldier back away a little. "So back off. He's mine"

"Knock it off, boys," Blaine's father interjected, putting one hand on his shoulder. "Blaine was right. Let us not start the show without the main star."

Cold began to creep onto Blaine's spine. "I thought we already got everyone. Is the Queen not our main target?"

The King chuckled at that. "The Queen?" He turned to throw an amused look at the lady, who sent back murderous glare at him. "She is merely our guest of honor. The Queen is nothing once the King is gone. No, I come all the way here for Hummel's blood."

Blaine tried so hard not to be sick at this point. "Kurt Hummel?"

"The last Hummel," his father nodded. "I am quite sure you have encountered that boy, seeing that the Queen and General recognize you."

"I have," Blaine said. His mouth tasted like dirt now. "Very interesting man, indeed."

"You should tell me more once Smythe . . ." His words were cut by the sound of the door being opened and his father's grin suddenly grew wider. "Perfect timing."

When Blaine turned around to see the new audience, his guts twisted in the worst possible way.

Gods knew how hard he had to restrain himself from killing the men who dragged Kurt's limp body across the floor. He had been stomped by a Bisou and stabbed with sword numerous times; but seeing Kurt in that state and not being able to do anything was worse than all of them combined. For a brief moment, Blaine thought of the worst possibilities but quickly dismissed it before he did something that could jeopardize his friends' life.

He must be alive. Right?

This was confirmed as soon as the men who dragged Kurt let his arms go, making Kurt landed on the floor face first. Blaine flinched at the thud sound but soon enough let a sigh of relief when Kurt groaned weakly.

He was still alive.

The shock earlier made him realized a bit late that they also had Rachel and Puck with them. Both of them wearing too familiar confuse expression, which meant that his general friends were here too. Behind them was Sebastian. He was glad that Trent, Jeff, or Nick was not there with him. It would make everything way more complicated than it already was.

His father's laugh knocked him off of his trance. "Go check on him," he told him. "We need him to be aware enough for the main show."

Blaine swallowed and nodded. His legs felt like they had their own mind, taking him toward the figure slowly but surely. This was not supposed to happen. The plan never involved Kurt in the first place. He had hoped that he already knocked his father off before Kurt was caught by them. Now he had more people that he needed to save in such uncertain amount of time. Plus, he might have to fight his own friends in order to do that.

The second problem was that now, to stall some time until his father's power was up, he had to lie on Kurt's face. All the times and blood that he spent to convince the prince that he was not like his father would be thrown out of the window by himself in a moment. It broke his heart that just hours ago, he was in Kurt's position but not only that he forgave him, he also tried to save him. This time, Blaine would have to do the exact opposite of that to the same man.

As long as it kept him safe, Blaine would do the worst and takes full responsibility on that.

He stopped in front of Kurt, who still had not lifted his head yet – another thing that broke his heart – and with all of his strength, called him with the coldest tone he could muster.

"Kurt Hummel."

The effect showed instantly as Kurt's body tensed upon hearing his voice. Blaine could almost see the gears were working on his head, trying to prove that he heard wrong. Then, slowly, he heard a harsh breath and saw Kurt's hands were moving to support his weight. It was a slow and excruciating process. If Lord Addams did not numb his body from pain, the inside of his mouth would feel raw as he bit onto it every time Kurt's hand slipped and made him crashed back to the ground. He tried to ignore all those laugh around him and silently encouraged Kurt to just keep fighting.

It felt like forever when Kurt finally settled on his knees with the support of both of his hands on each side, clearly unable to stand up on his own. His head then slowly arose until he was able to see Blaine towering him.

Both of them froze but Kurt's expression looked like Blaine had stabbed him. So many emotions danced on those golden eyes but none of them were the ones he predicted. He expected disbelief and anger, not fear. Gods, Kurt was afraid of him. This almost made him take a step back but he managed to keep on his ground. Blaine took a silent, deep breath once again before delivering his best acting.

"I'm so glad we could meet again." It was not a lie, but the tone that he used sent a different meaning to Kurt.

Blaine could clearly see that Kurt's body was starting to tremble.

"Blaine?" The voice was small and only they could hear it, but now it was Blaine's turn to be punched in the gut by Kurt. He was shocked when Kurt started to scramble away from him. Fear clearly clouded him now. "N-no . . . You're not him . . . He would never . . ."

"Well, that is not the reaction I was expecting," his father's voice from behind almost made him jumped.

He knew that this was an odd view, so he had to do something to erase everyone's suspicion.

"That's because I make him think that we are in love."

The whole room went silent for about three seconds until the King and the other Dalton soldiers burst in laughter. However, Blaine could not bring himself to do the same while his eyes were glued to Kurt's. What he did was cruel enough already without adding salt to the wound.

Kurt, on the other hand, suddenly squint his eyes hard and broke the eye contact. His eyes were bouncing everywhere still overcame with panic. When they landed on Finn not too far from him and his mother who was crying silently, he blinked his eyes again as if he was trying to wake up from this nightmare. This time, it was Blaine who closed his eyes and sighed. He had met Trent, then.

"This is not a dream, Kurt," Blaine got his attention back. "The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can move on."

"You're lying!" The scream that came out from the dying person in front of him stunned everyone. The quick outburst died too soon as it was followed by a weak whimper. "Wake up. Wake up . . ."

Blaine's nails digging hard onto his palm, resisting the urge to drop onto his knees and just hug Kurt, but he still needed to stall some time. So he continued killing him verbally.

"No wonder McKinley lose easily to us once you father died. You can't even tell what's real and what's not." Blaine slowly approached him, making Kurt tried and failed miserably to drag his body away from him. His injured leg must had had taken a toll of him. "Such a disappointment."

"Make him use his power, Blaine. I'd like to see it myself," his father said from his back.

"He can't," Blaine answered him. "He lost it after the King was killed." He could see Kurt's inside was torn apart by his remark and it bounced back to him. "The powerless heir."

"Well, that is indeed disappointing," the King commented, contrasted to his gleeful tone. "Well, you can end the show now if you want to. It is pointless to play with injured Bisou."

Before Blaine could reply, Kurt suddenly latched himself onto his legs and, to his horror, begged like a beggar.

"Blaine, y-you can kill me but p-please let my family . . . let my friends go," he whimpered pathetically, eyes full of so much pain that he had to look away. "Let them go, please . . ."

Blaine could not stand it anymore. He pushed Kurt on the chest using his leg and sent him a bit too hard to his back. He did not stay too long to see his expression and instead threw a dagger look toward Jeremiah.

"Take your men and leave this hall. You too, Sebastian," he jerked his head toward the general, who raised his eyebrow in surprise. "I don't want any audience beside his family when I killed this prince."

"Sebastian and Jeremiah should stay, Blaine," the King interrupted before any of them could react. "As much as I don't like to admit, I hate being outnumbered."

At least fighting two men were better than fighting ten by himself. "Of course. The rest of you, go and lock this room. No one can enter or get out from here. If you hear voices from inside, ignore it. I intend to use most of his time left for teaching him a lesson," Blaine said while throwing a brief glance toward the shaken Kurt to convince them.

One by one, Jeremiah's men went outside of the hall and the door was soon sealed from the outside, leaving only nine of them inside.

Blaine took a deep breath before concentrating on his power. "Kurt Hummel's sword."

The sword soon appeared on his left hand. It was nowhere near as good as Blaine's since most of the time he used his ice blade but it was better than nothing. He threw the sword toward Kurt and it landed with a loud clang next to him.

When he saw Jeremiah moved forward to likely protest, Blaine raised his own sword and pointed it to him. "Back off."

"What are you doing, Blaine?" the King calmly asked, now using a dangerous tone that made his nerve went wild again.

"I fought him once and I lost," Blaine spat those words using the anger from the wrong cause. Kurt now was staring at him and then the sword, both with the same fearful expression. "Pick it up. I will not kill someone who is defenseless."

Kurt's eyes went wide then he shook his head hard. Tears were smearing all over his face. "Kill me. Let them go."

"Pick it up," Blaine demanded as he took a step forward and now practically towering him.

"No . . ."

Somehow, the sight was starting to make him angry toward Kurt. He could not believe that the man who fought to save him was now broken in his feet, refused to even defend himself. Did Kurt die before he could save him?

"Kurt Hummel," Blaine said through his gritted teeth. "Your father died being proud of you. Your friends fight for you to their death. Your people expect you to save them. Now pick up your sword and don't you dare make them die in vain for a coward!"

His voice echoed throughout the hall, followed by thick silence aside from his own harsh breathing.

Get up, Kurt, he prayed.

Fight with me one last time.

Please.

His eyes snapped when he caught movement in front of him. Blaine's heart burst with relief as he watched Kurt's hand slowly approached the sword until it was properly on his grip. This time, Kurt seemed to have some kind of new energy as he was using the sword to help him stand up on his feet. Blaine failed not to let himself broke a smile at the sight.

Finally, finally, Kurt was standing straight in front of Blaine. He felt so proud for the man. The small amount of fire came back to his eyes as he was staring straight at Blaine.

Kurt was still alive.

"That's my prince," Blaine said in a low tone so only Kurt could hear it, letting his feeling bleed to his words. The fire intensified at that but Blaine broke eye contact with him quickly and mutter under his breath.

"Smoke bombs."

No one got the chance to react when Blaine suddenly dropped ten smoke bombs and soon enough the whole hall was blinded with smoke. Shouts and swears filled the silence long enough until the smoke dispersed and everyone could finally see what was happened.

"Use your power and the King dies," Blaine said to Jeremiah and Sebastian who was pointing their sword at still-confused Rachel and Puck while he was putting his own weapon next to his father's throat, one hand sealed the angry King's mouth effectively.

Kurt, who was still in front of him, took a moment too long to process the whole thing. When he finally did, he made half laugh half sob sound and Blaine was glad that now he was able to return the smile to him.