An: I finally managed to finish & edit next chapter with a big help from youngandobsessed! I'll try to not leave you guys waiting so long for next parts, although life likes to constantly get in my way...
So I was asked about the fact that Seb has a crush on Blaine while they are cousins. They are actually quite distant cousins. For example, they both call Lucy 'aunt' yet they are obviously not Lucy's siblings' children.
I still needed both Seb & Blaine to have Pevensie's family "blood" for future reasons... I guess I've read far too many medieval fantasy/ historic books where marrying cousins was more than okay, so I kind of got used to this not being an issue. I know it sounds like a stretched solution, but please roll with it :P I'm sorry if that aspect disturbed anyone!
Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter 14
The dark silhouette above Kurt was definitely not Blaine's. The barely awoken witchling tensed under a menacing stare of a tall, charcoal grey faun. The creature's eyes were bright with barely- restrained anger.
"What do you want?" Kurt asked, upset that there was an audible tremble in his voice. His mother would have scolded him for not hiding his fear.
The witchling's hand travelled under his blanket toward his shirt, underneath which he had hidden his bottle of magic. He was pretty sure that the faun didn't know he could use magic at the moment – the intruder wouldn't dare to stand so close otherwise. When Kurt's fingers touched the flask he knew he could take out the faun if necessary. An unpleasant thought crossed his mind – if he used magic now he wouldn't be able to heal Blaine. However, the more practical part of his brain informed him that after killing the Narnian above him he would have to run away from the camp anyway and possibly never see Blaine again.
Hearing the question, the faun grimaced as if Kurt's voice repulsed him. "We were asked to bring you food and water to wash," he sneered. The witchling noticed that there was another faun in the tent – currently setting down the barrel of water. He also didn't look happy about the situation and was armed. A bad combination.
Me against the two of them – that might not end well, thought Kurt, desperately forming an emergency plan.
"I was thinking... " started the faun who stood further away from Kurt. "How do we know if the djinn here doesn't have any tricks up his sleeve? He might attack us..."
Kurt stilled his fingers over the bottle. Did they notice?
"You are right..." replied the charcoal faun, staring down at the witchling. "...I guess no one would blame us for protecting ourselves against him."
Oh, Kurt realized. They are just conspiring against me. Still looking bad for me.
"Blaine will know the truth," he said aloud, trying to sound confident.
Blaine's name seemed to stop the fauns for a moment. They remembered that killing Kurt, no matter if in self-defence or not, would be against their king's wishes. Kurt could see in eyes of the Narnian above him the internal battle between the loyalty toward Blaine and centuries of hate toward ice djinns in Narnia.
Fortunately Kurt didn't have to find out which would win in the end, because into the tent walked the very person with no intentions of letting anyone hurt the witchling.
"Thank you, Fern, Hav," Blaine said deliberately. "I'll take it from here."
The fauns bowed deeply and throwing one last disgusted glance at Kurt they swiftly left the tent. Blaine shook his head.
"I'm sorry about that, but I needed help to bring the food and the rest in." The boy shrugged his bandaged shoulder, his other hand was holding a bundle of clothes. "I'll have a talk with them later."
"Be careful. They might organize a mutiny soon," joked Kurt.
Blaine didn't laugh, just walked up to the witchling and gently put his hands around Kurt's shoulders. "Kurt, you are shaking," he said.
The witchling noticed, that yes, his whole body was still trembling. "That's from cold," he lied.
"Really?"
Kurt glanced again at the items brought into the tent and decided to quickly change the topic. "I guess then you guys are not going to starve me or torture with lack of hygiene."
"Um, no, of course not. I also got you some new clothes, because yours are torn and dirty. I know these are nothing like what I've seen you wear so far, but they are clean and definitely from natural fabric... I mean everything here is from natural fabric, it's Narnia after all, but they are nice to touch-"
"Alright, calm down," Kurt interrupted Blaine's word vomit. "They are not even half as stylish as what I usually wear, but I guess I can survive before I'll be able to make myself something better."
"Make?" Blaine was surprised, he never thought that the witchling would partake in something as mundane as sewing. Kurt, however, only rolled his eyes.
"Make as in using my magic. I usually make around five new outfits per week if I don't need to use my power for anything else. It's nothing too special, so once I create them they don't disappear."
Blaine's jaw almost hit the floor. Math was never his strong subject, but damn, that was a lot of clothes. How did Kurt manage to store them all in his wardrobe? Wait, I'm going to rule a country that managed to fit inside a wardrobe, so perhaps I shouldn't really think too much of it...
"Well, your magic is back so you could-"
Kurt glared at Blaine, almost disappointed. "You really are weird. I told you I would use it today for something else. Now, before I change my mind, take off your shirt."
"Huh?" Blaine couldn't stop an embarrassing blush from blossoming on his cheeks.
"Your shirt. Off. I need access to your wound. Honestly, Blaine, this is not a time to be shy – I've already seen your-"
"Taking it off right now," squeaked Blaine, all but tearing the clothes from his torso.
Kurt reached forward to help the boy take off the bandages from his left shoulder. He couldn't suppress a grimace upon seeing the burning flesh around the torn skin.
"Does it hurt?" The witchling asked softly.
"Not much unless I bump into something," Blaine assured him. "But that liquid of yours... it's going to sting, right?"
Kurt looked at him sympathetically as reached beneath his shirt for the flask. The bottle gleamed and cast faint emerald streaks of light onto Kurt and Blaine.
"Do you need me to hold your shoulder so you won't trash around?" the witchling asked and Blaine gulped, paling.
"Yes, please. My pain threshold is embarrassingly low."
Blaine kind of regretted he said that the moment Kurt took a hold of his arm, as the witchling's velvety touch was making him even more self conscious about the sensitivity of his skin. He was sure his shiver was visible, but it seemed Kurt chose not to comment on it.
The witchling tilted the bottle and allowed the elixir to drip freely onto Blaine's wound. He cocked an eyebrow when the boy didn't so much as flinch. "Blaine, you don't feel anything?"
"No..." Blaine sounded even more surprised. "I can feel your hand and the sensation of the liquid, but it's not painful, it's-" the boy furrowed his eyebrows to name the feeling of the fluid seeping into his wound and spreading through the whole shoulder. "-It's actually nice. And warm."
Kurt's eyes widened. "Are you sure? Hm..." His forehead wrinkled in concentration. "Maybe I know why... I think I wanted it to be gentle for you and it became a part of the spell... I wish I had thought of it yesterday," Kurt flashed him a lopsided smile.
"And it still does its intended job well," Blaine complimented, craning his head to observe how the liquid seemed to dissolve into his body, mending the tear and smoothing new skin tissue over it.
Kurt ghosted over the healed shoulder with his fingers, trailing the freshly fixed section. "Of course it works perfectly. It's a part of me after all."
Blaine was about to comment on the witchling's 'modesty', but then he took in that last sentence. Part of Kurt. Some kind of magical essence of this beautiful creature was now inside his body and that felt so good and intimate... Blaine lifted his right hand to put it over Kurt's fingers on his shoulder.
"Thank you, Kurt," he said with his most charming smile.
The witchling froze and sharply inhaled. He almost suspected that Blaine was a witch himself, because that smile seemed to have magic on its own. "I... it was my pleasure..." He suddenly chuckled – a nervous, shrilly laugh. "I don't think I should be healing my official enemies. I'm a terrible spy."
"Maybe so, but I find it quite endearing." Blaine dragged the last word out longer than necessary, gaining more and more courage from the fact that Kurt hadn't taken his hand back from his hold. The boy wrapped his fingers around the witchling's and shifted to face him. "Everything about you is endearing."
"Even the 'cold-blooded' djinn part?"
"Especially that. And you are not 'cold', not really."
Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "So you know me so well now?"
"Not as much as I would want to," Blaine blurted out. He was seriously starting to suspect that there must be something in the water here that kept loosening his tongue.
Meanwhile had Kurt looked down, since the smouldering emotion in Blaine's eyes boring into his was just too much... and it was the bad choice, because he was immediately assaulted by the view of the boy's compact, tanned torso. It brought back all the pleasant memories from when they still had been just two unrestricted entities attracted to each other. Before he knew it, he had lifted his free hand and placed his palm flat on Blaine's chest which shuddered from the chilly touch. Kurt could feel the boy's heartbeat, steadily accelerating, and found it quite fascinating that he could be the reason for it. He experimentally slid his hand down through the dips and curves of Blaine's abdominal muscles and almost smiled feeling yet another quiver underneath his fingers. Blaine captured his wrist before it could travel any further downwards.
"That's not a good idea, someone could come in at any moment, Kurt," he said with a hint of regret. "They might think that you are putting me under some spell. Well, they probably already do," he sighed.
Kurt shrugged. "So it actually doesn't matter then,even if I do this." He lifted his hand leaving only one fingertip on Blaine's body, but trailing the single finger in a line along the waistband of the boy's pants.
"I'm... serious... you can't..." Blaine's voice lost all of its fortitude . He stared at Kurt's face which resembled a kid's exploring a playground and began to consider letting the witchling do whatever he desired...
"I thought you wanted this too," Kurt pouted, poking at Blaine's hipbone. Suddenly, the witchling's face paled and lost its playful expression. HIs blue eyes darted toward the entrance to the tent. "Are you just going to watch us without saying anything, not even a greeting?" Kurt's voice sounded naturally prince-like – condescending and authoritative.
Blaine whipped his head towards the guest and couldn't hide the upset grimace on his face at seeing Sebastian standing at the entrance and gazing at Blaine's half-naked body with too much intensity.
"Seb, how long were you standing there?" The boy asked, failing at sounding composed. He snatched his shirt from the ground and quickly put it on. In doing that he noticed that his shoulder was indeed fully healed and functioning well. Kurt's magic had worked splendidly.
"Somewhere around 'someone could come in at any moment'," Sebastian answered Blaine, but his narrowed eyes were now glued to the witchling.
Kurt immediately returned his interest with a disdained glare of his own. "Guess your entrance was very fitting then, whoever-you-are."
"For your information I'm Sebastian. Human and the future king of Narnia. The same as Blaine."
"Funny, I thought you were some kind of Narnian animal hybrid. Half-meerkat perhaps..."
"Okay, stop it, guys," Blaine chimed in, feeling that these two were not meant to get along. "Sebastian – why did you find me? Has anything happened?"
The taller boy wretched his steely stare from the witchling. "Indeed it has. We have the enemy's wolves in our camp and they require the presence of both you and that creature over there. As soon as possible."
An hour later Blaine led Kurt from the tent to the entrance of Aslan's Camp, the boy fidgeting the entire way.
"Did you really need that long to wash? We were supposed to be there a while ago," he asked nervously.
Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to neglect my beauty regime just because I'm a prisoner. Also, these wolves know me. 'As soon as possible' for me always means ' whenever prince Kurt would be ready'. Of course, it would have taken less time if you didn't take forever putting on these." The witchling lifted his wrists, meticulously tied together with a rope. "I'm not going to run while surrounded by a whole camp of Narnians. Not when my leg is only half-way patched up."
"We don't want to take the chances. Especially if the wolves would help you." Blaine licked his lips. "I... I hope the rope is not too tight?"
Kurt let out a peal of deep laughter. " Oh, Blaine. You are sometimes just too considerate to be a king."
They soon stopped talking as they joined the Narnians gathered around the visitors, their weapons lowered, but ready to attack immediately if there should be a need for it. Blaine looked around, but couldn't see Aslan anywhere. It seemed that he and Sebastian would have to take care of this themselves.
He was angry at himself for being so nervous about it – it wasn't like they hadn't expected the pack to come to collect the remains of their previous leader. Puck had explained the ceremony to him earlier as the Narnians had cut off the dead wolf's head and tarred it for preservation. Blaine didn't really want to know what they had done with the rest of the corpse and sternly rejected their offer of making him the cape from Maugrim's fur.
"We came with no hostile intentions to see Maugrim's slayer and to receive our leader's head so it could be lain in the kurhan of Alphas," the deep voice broke into Blaine's reverie. It belonged to a massive wolf sporting a coat of grey-blue fur. While as intimidating as their previous general, Blaine could see much more wisdom and some sort of strong peacefulness in his pale steel eyes that Maugrim had lacked.
The circle of Narnians around the visitors gave way to Puck, who came forward holding Maugrims head by its black, now dull, fur. "We know the tradition," he said and threw the head at the pack. The bluish wolf jumped up and caught it with his teeth with ease. He passed it to one of the four wolves that came with him and looked back at Puck with interest. "I heard you and Maugrim were mortal enemies. Were you the one to kill him?"
"I wish, but no." Puck contorted his face in an unpleasant smile. "That mutt was bested by one of our kings. You know, one of the true kings of Narnia." He proudly tilted his head at the short boy with the dark curls.
Blaine heard the exchange and blushed nervously when the grey-blue wolf turned to look at him and wrinkle its nose with doubt.
"That dwarf killed Maugrim? That's a story hard to believe..."
Blaine was about to correct him, but Kurt beat him to it. "He did. All by himself. It was a very nice thrust he made." The witchling looked at the short boy intensively and Blaine understood that he was to take the credit for their victory as Kurt's assistance could be seen as a treason against the queen, no matter what Maugrim's plans for him had been.
Meanwhile, the wolf had stopped scrutinising Blaine and moved his attention onto Kurt, smiling at the witchling. His smile showed off his teeth protruding from raw red gums and looked all kinds of terrifying, but it didn't faze Kurt in the slightest.
"Hi Ingolf," he said with a light grin. "Don't tell me you are now the alpha?"
"Your Majesty," the wolf bowed his head. "It's good to see you unharmed, although someone will pay for tying you up. And to answer your question – I'm not a new alpha. I was informed by Ulf – our new leader – that I'm still too young to issue a challenge for the spot, but my courage has been rewarded by becoming a beta and a representative for this meeting."
There was a hint of laughter in his voice, as if he had already known that the 'too young' excuse was just a cowardly lie and given a chance Ingolf would show who the real leader was.
"I'm sure you'll get that spot one day. I always knew you were born for greatness." Kurt agreed eagerly and something new in his voice – a warm, soft undertone, perhaps – caught Ingolf's attention. The wolf tilted his head and trusted his nose to determine what was different. Now, that's interesting.
"My prince, forgive me for asking, but I would like to speak to you alone for a moment."
One of the centaurs near them immediately snorted. "Yeah, right. As if we would let two of our enemies to talk privately in the middle of the camp."
Blaine opened his mouth to allow Kurt and the wolf to have a moment alone, but he caught Sebastian's furious stare and reconsidered. Despite the ridiculous amount of trust he had in Kurt, he shouldn't give another order that could have be seen as unfavourable for Aslan's army. He had already risked enough by protecting the witchling.
"I'm sorry, but that's out of the question," he said aloud, trying to give his voice enough authority.
Ingolf looked at Blaine condescendingly. "We are not going to talk about your army, boy. Your puny Narnians are no danger to us. The topic I need to discuss with my prince is a private matter."
The Narnians were beginning to lose their patience with the wolf, especially after how he had spoken to their king! Their circle around the wolves tightened and the pack took a defensive stance, barring their teeth and flattening their ears.
"Just take your loser-leader's head and go back to the Witch!" someone shouted and other voices joined in, agreeing.
"Maybe I'll take your head too," barked back one of the wolves.
The cacophony of cries and threats layered over each other. Hands were trembling close to weapons' handles and muscles were flexing, every animal readying to pounce.
"Stay down!" Ingolf growled at his pack.
"Stop it!" Blaine and Sebastian shouted at the same time .
Grumbling, the Narnians all took a step back, giving the visitors more space. Blaine smiled gratefully at Sebastian for aiding his command which caused a dark scowl on Kurt's face.
"Is this really that important, Ingolf?" The witchling asked, a bit upset. He wanted to get out of here – away from the Narnians' hostile stares and from Sebastian's leering at Blaine.
The wolf looked flustered. "It could be nothing, but my nose is sending me a warning... And everything is important if it concerns you, your majesty." Kurt couldn't hide a sad smile at that. From anyone else's mouth it would sound like shallow flattery, but Ingolf sounded like he meant it.
"Excuse me." There was suddenly a small, timid voice coming from the direction of Blaine's shoulder. The nearest Narnians turned toward it to see Pavarotti sitting on the short boy's arm.
"I might have a solution gentlemen," continued the yellow bird. "I could be a witness to the conversation – just to make sure nothing hurtful regarding the Narnians would be passed between you."
"And how would that be different from having any other random rebel listening?" Ingolf asked, eyeing Pavarotti coldly and barring his teeth.
The little bird seemed unruffled by his open hostility. "I am not a part of the rebellion. I'm not even a Narnian – I was merely Aslan's messenger from across the sea. I can be an impartial witness."
Ingolf wrinkled his nose. Pavarotti indeed had a foreign fragrance of the sea on him.
Meanwhile, Kurt grew impatient. "Let's just do it that way, Ingolf. It's not like I have learned any useful information here to give you, anyway. And I really don't care about what my mother is doing now in preparation for the war."
Ingolf nodded slowly. He clearly didn't think it was a good idea, but he chose to listen to his prince.
Followed by Narnian's hateful stares and one caring gaze, Kurt and Ingolf separated themselves from the crowd with Pavarotti who, surprisingly, perched himself comfortably onto the witchling's shoulder.
"So... I guess we are far enough away," said Kurt, glancing at the Narnians from the distance. He could easily make out the dark curls bouncing on Blaine's head while the boy was impatiently pacing back and forth, waiting. Ingolf followed his line of sight.
"So that's your human?" The wolf wasn't known for subtlety.
Kurt smiled lightly. "He... might consider himself to be mine... But I'm sure you wanted to speak to me about different matters. I won't ask about my mother, but would love to know if Brit..."
"Brittany is good. Unhappy that you don't take her from the stables for a walk anymore, but she's safe there and I don't think she is to take a part in the war directly since she's been always your personal horse."
Kurt sighed, relieved. "And what about-" The witchling fell silent, not knowing if he could ask... Fortunately Ingolf knew well who else could be on his prince's mind.
"Rory is also safe. For now. The queen knows his value as a source of information and would probably prefer to keep him alive just in case."
Kurt nodded. Feeling a sharp sting on his shoulder he turned to look at Pavarotti. The bird looked at him quizzically.
"Oh... Yeah, I think I will tell Blaine about it. It doesn't change anything and he would be glad to know that Rory is okay." The witchling looked daringly at Ingolf.
The wolf bowed lightly, observing the witchling. "It is not my choice what my prince chooses to tell the enemy."
Kurt ignored the obvious jab. "Now, tell me what got you so worried earlier. I'm pretty sure Aslan's army is quickly losing its patience with us."
Ingolf once more sniffed the air, hoping that what he had sensed before was a mistake. It wasn't.
"There is something weird with your scent. And your human's scent."
"How so?"
"They are somehow... interwined. It's not like there is a different smell on top of yours as there normally is when a couple... interacts. It's more like they are entangled with each other."
Kurt looked surprised at how nervous Ingolf seemed about that revelation. He guessed the wolves trusted their sense of smell the most and any changes in a familiar scent would probably be a big cause to worry.
"I'm not sure what you mean by that, but..." the witchling pondered the problem. "Just this morning I used my djinn magic on Blaine's wound, so I guess some residues might still be inside his body... I had never used my magic to heal anyone so you would have never sensed similar thing before."
Ingolf once more looked at Blaine from afar as if trying to find influence from the djinn magic on the boy.
"But that wouldn't explain the changes in your scent, Kurt."
Surprisingly, the voice had belonged to Pavarotti. The bird nestled himself into a more comfortable position on Kurt's shoulder and looked at the present party patronisingly as if knowing more than he should. The witchling didn't like this. He was also irritated that the bird addressed him so informally.
"The fact that I'm wearing his clothes would," he replied coldly with the first explanation that came to mind.
Pavarotti rolled his beady eyes. Ingolf shared the bird's skepticism.
"I'm just worried because it feels strange. It might be dangerous for you, my prince. I could ask the queen to look into it-"
"No!" Kurt cut him off immediately. "Don't mention anything about it to my mother."
"I won't tell her," promised Ingolf. Then, after a moment of hesitation he spoke again. "My prince... What are you actually doing here? Even after finding out about this human you... healed him and you seem to be still taken with him." Before Kurt would reply he continued. "Don't answer to me. I am just your loyal servant. However, to know where I stand I will need to know at some point where you stand."
The wolf's eyes bore into Kurt's, full of questions and expectations. The witchling couldn't maintain the uncomfortable eye contact any longer and his gaze wandered instead to around them, over the hill filled with crimson tents and flags flapping in the sea breeze, all sporting the golden embroidery of a magnificent lion. He turned to look back at the wolves surrounded by the Narnians – every one of them watching Kurt and Ingolf, waiting for their conversation to be over. Blaine stood there as well – his natural charm and warmth emanating from him, making him a perfect charismatic leader despite his short posture. Soon he would lead the army gathered here to fight against Jadis.
Not long ago Kurt's sure fire answer would have been that he stood only for himself, as in every djinn's nature. Now, it seemed he wouldn't be able to avoid becoming involved in the impending conflict. He would need to choose between his obligations to his blood, family and his attachment to Blaine. What was worse, though, was that both sides weren't exactly welcoming him at the moment, so no matter which choice made, he would be surrounded by enemies.
Kurt felt the air surrounding him tightening, suffocating. He realized that there wasn't really a place for him anywhere.
Next chapter: Searching for the goodness and unveiling the sadness