Blaine's father closed the shop the next day, they were well off enough that it wouldn't hurt them financially. Blaine and his parents spent the morning in town buying Blaine new clothes suitable for an audience with the king and prince. His parents spent the entire day fussing over Blaine to the extent that he didn't remember a time when he was fussed over that much. The girls in town were upset when Blaine didn't start singing for them, but his mother told them he was saving his voice. She hardly let Blaine speak at all that day, worried that he would get a sore throat and wouldn't be able to preform for the royals as best as he could.
An hour before, a coach came to collect Blaine, he hugged his parents then was on his way. Nerves were bubbling in his stomach. It was one thing to sing for the folks in town, but to sing for the royal family was another thing altogether. When he arrived, it was fifteen minutes to eight, his hands were sweating, and his nerves were so high, he almost forgot to take in the beauty of the palace. The courtyard they entered from had rows upon rows of orchids, Queen Elisabeth's favourites. The king kept her garden alive even after she was gone. When the coach finally stopped, there was a large marble staircase with two marble pillars at the top. The doors were shimmering in the sunset, with one guard on either side. He followed the footman who opened the door for him, into the palace. There were huge drop chandlers, candles everywhere, the room looked like it was made of gold. The footman stopped walking in front of one arched door, and held his hand up to Blaine, as if to say wait here.
Blaine gulped down his nerves, he had to do well tonight, he simply had to. Breathe, he told himself. Pretend you're singing to mother and father. Don't look at the royals or you will lose track. Breathe. Do this for your parents. With one final deep breath, the door opened in front of him. "Blaine of the Andersons." He heard someone call. Blaine walked forward towards the two thrones. In the most center throne sat King Burt, showing his age slightly, with a golden crown on his head. To his left, Blaine faltered for a moment then quickly recovered, was the pale noble he had met in the forest. The noble he had spoken to over the last two days was none other than Prince Kurt himself. About three quarters of the way down, Blaine halted and bowed lowly.
"You must be Blaine of the Andersons." The king began. "I've heard much about you. Some of the young women of the court speak of nothing but you." The king gestured to the right, and then Blaine noticed, for the first time, that it was a full court, there had to be about a hundred people in the room. Suddenly, a familiar red-haired girl emerged from the pack. She walked up to Blaine and linked her arm around his elbow.
"Yes, Your Majesty, this is my betrothed." Jasmine smiled. Blaine noticed Prince Kurt roll his eyes.
"Jasmine," Prince Kurt began exasperatedly, "can't you leave the boy alone right now? He is hear to sing, so please, let him do just that without you hanging off his arm." After a shocked gasp, she bowed her head and released Blaine's elbow, then returned to standing by an older man who was watched Blaine through narrow eyes, her father, Blaine assumed.
"Now then, how about a song, if you please."
"Y—yes, Your Majesties." Then Blaine began the old familiar song, the one he had sang for the prince just the day before. At first, his nerves got the better of him, but by the end of the song, his voice was in full force, singing loud enough, and perfectly enough to capture the entire court. At the final note, the court erupted in applause, but all of that fell on deaf ears to Blaine, as he was watching the royals, King Burt applauded, and that meant more to Blaine than anyone would ever know. He couldn't bring himself to care what Prince Kurt was doing, because he had determined, when Blaine discovered who Prince Kurt was, that he didn't care for the prince much. Even though the noble in the forest turned out to be the prince, that didn't mean that the prince wasn't all those things: rude, arrogant, and prejudice.
"Well, Blaine of the Andersons, you truly are quite remarkable." The king said, which cut through the applause, and ceased it.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Blaine bowed lowly.
"Let it be known," King Burt began, addressing the court, "Blaine of the Andersons is the official royal entertainer." The court erupted in cheers, and Blaine, well, to say he was stunned would be a gross understatement. He had come to sing a song, maybe a few songs, then it would be over, and he could go back to his life of dodging his mother pushing him to marry and working in his father's shop. But it occurred to him now, that even then he wouldn't be able to return to normal. People would ask him about when he met the royals, and it wouldn't be the same again. But this—this meant that he would be at beck and call to the royals. The boy who dreamed of being in the castle was ecstatic, but the man he became was not. If he was helping his parents, he might have to leave with a second's notice to entertain the royals.
The court, in seemingly seconds, filed out of the throne room at the flick of King Burt's wrist, into another room. Blaine mustered up the courage and said, "Your Majesty, I appreciate the offer, more than you will ever know,"
"But?" Prince Kurt chimed in as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"But I am just a peasant boy, Your Majesties, perhaps there is someone more suited."
"Interesting." Prince Kurt drawled, "Because just yesterday somebody told me that status has nothing to do with singing." And that, made Blaine decide he actually hated the prince, how dare the prince use Blaine's own words against him?
"That's very wise. Who told you this, son?"
"Nobody important, father." He gave Blaine a wicked smile. "Father, might I have a moment alone with this, um, Blaine, was it?" Blaine gave a small nod, his eyes downcast, refusing to look at the prince.
"Very well, the study is available."
"Thank you, father." Kurt hopped out of his throne and started walking. "Come." He said over his shoulder to Blaine. Blaine followed wordlessly, afraid of being alone with the prince. Once the doors closed behind them in the study, Prince Kurt plopped unceremoniously into a chair and watched Blaine. "What is the real reason Blaine?" Blaine didn't answer. "Out with it." Kurt ordered.
Blaine sighed. "Permission to speak freely, Your Highness?" Kurt nodded. "Since we met, you haven't exactly been nice. You've been arrogant and rude, and then you send me some invitation to sing for you and your father knowing that I didn't know who you were. And now you expect me to just be your little toy, to come and sing for you whenever you please! Forgive me, Your Highness, but that is an offer I cannot accept."
Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "I'm impressed. Nobody has even spoken to me like that before."
Blaine recoiled. "Forgive me, Your Highness, I was out of line."
"Don't apologize for things you mean." Kurt rolled his eyes. "And what's so wrong with being my, how did you say it 'little toy'? We call, you sing. It will definitely be easier once you're moved in, of course."
"Moved in?!"
"Mhmm. We have a servant's wing in the castle. You will stay there. What? Did you honestly thing the crown would wait forty-five minutes for you to show up and sing?" Prince Kurt said incredulously.
"Well the answer is no. I refuse to sing for the crown and be at your beck and call, Your Highness." Blaine was angry, he knew he needed to school it, but Prince Kurt was making it difficult.
Prince Kurt stood from his chair and took a step toward Blaine. "You seem to forget that you are speaking to a royal who can have you head for refusing to be in service to the crown."
"Go on then!" Prince Kurt took another step. "I don't care! I refuse to serve you!" Blaine knew he was out of line, but Prince Kurt was- smiling, was he actually enjoying Blaine refusing him?
"Tisk, tisk, and here I thought you'd be a good little boy." Prince Kurt took another step closer, to which Blaine took a step back, that is until his back hit the wall, and Prince Kurt was now a breath away.
"I will serve the king; I will never serve you." Blaine said defiantly. Prince Kurt reached his hands up to bracket Blaine's face and kissed him. Blaine struggled, trying to get away, but Prince Kurt held him firmly. Once Prince Kurt finally pulled out of the kiss, he just stood there, looking at Blaine. He leaned in to kiss Blaine again, only this time, Blaine didn't object, he returned the kiss for just as much as Prince Kurt gave. Once the kiss broke, Blaine stared at Kurt, horrified because now somebody knew his secret, and that somebody just happened to the prince that he hated, or at least, he was sure he still hated the prince. Blaine bolted from the room and out the palace doors, down the steps and didn't stop running until he was far enough away from the castle. The he walked all the way home. Hating himself for letting the prince kiss him, and hating himself more for enjoying it.
