Kurt woke early the next morning to something so utterly horrific that he just lay, still, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating taking his own life.
Someone was singing. At daybreak. Daybreak. He not only wasn't a morning person, he had a deep mistrust of anyone who was perky before they'd had chicory coffee injected into their blood. As he lay there, the ceiling above him turned from white plaster to a vivid angry red and back again, as his power got away from him. That damned pretty, prim princess sister-in-law of his had no bloody idea how close she currently was to death.
As always, Avery's ability to sense moments of weakness in her father came at an inappropriate time, and the little girl landed on top of him bodily, trilling out an echo of the princess' song. 'Daaaddy,' she sang to the melody, 'you haaave to get up so we can smuggle the princess to the seeeeaaa.'
Kurt sat up immediately, managed to smack his forehead against Avery's, and immediately had to apologise as she squealed. 'Aw, love, I'm sorry. You just startled me – what was that you were saying about Rachael?'
'Uncle Fynn says we've got to get her to the sea and across it, so that she'll be safe.'
Kurt considers the complete idiocy of this as a concept. Quite apart from the fact that the princess' jilted fiance was apparently a sociopath who would hunt them down even with the Soft Sea between them, did his brother really think that the Dual Kings would just let Rachael go? She was the apple of their eye, their only child.
He briefly thought about what he would do to someone – anyone – who took Avery away. He'd curse them into a frog and then boil the frog and then use the frog to cure warts on another frog.
He blinked at his daughter, who was still beaming, and realised he had frogs on the brain because she'd gotten into his paints again, and had coloured her face bright green.
With a bit of luck, she'd never grow out of her obsession with colour and drawing, and no one would ever want to steal her away. The thought comforted him, and he asked, 'she's going to be queen someday, and he's her husband now – it's not going to look good if she hides away.'
'I know,' the voice wasn't Avery's – it was the exquisite, melodic voice of the princess, who settled on the end of the bed and calmly accepted Avery into her lap when the little girl crawled over and pressed her head down onto Rachael's soft silk skirt.
She was getting green paint on it, and Kurt's eyes flickered to Rachael's face, which was showing a surprising expression of sadness, and bravery. Her fingers stroked Avery's brown hair, and he decided that if Avery liked her, he would make an effort with this woman who had most likely ruined Fynn's life.
'My fathers didn't raise me to run away, but I didn't know what to do,' she said softly, glancing away from him. 'Duty was telling me to marry King Cooper's brother, but I had never even met him, and I love Fynn so much... I suppose I didn't think about anyones feelings but my own when I made the decision to marry him. Now I feel that I have to run, at least until the prince can be made to leave us alone.'
'And how are you going to do that?'
She looked guilty, but there was steel in her spine, and Kurt realised that under different circumstances, she was exactly the sort of person he would be friends with. She was self-obsessed, but kind at heart, and braver than he'd originally given her credit for.
'I'm going to leave to cross the Soft Sea, and then Fynn is going to travel to Kingstown and explain everything to my fathers. I don't think they know it's him who took me...' She blushes. 'He's not exactly the sort to be missed. He's a useless knight, he's too gentle, but he's what I need. He grounds me, he reminds me to be kind, and he's so clever.'
Kurt couldn't help but snort, and she grinned, the expression lighting up her pretty, unusual face. 'Are we still talking about my brother? And what, pray tell, are you going to do about this bloodthirsty Shadow Prince I've heard so much about.'
Her face hardened again, and she looked him dead in the eye; she was smarter than she looked, and she knew that he wasn't going to accept a roundabout answer to a straight question.
'There's only one person I can imagine stopping him. Magick is against the law where the Shadow Prince was born – he'll be afraid of you. You're going to give us a spell to hide our trail, and then you're going to capture and keep him here.'
His anger bubbled up, and he snapped, 'Avery, go outside and find wild thyme. Now, little love.'
She sprung from Rachaels – her aunt's – lap and ran away, happy to be away from the tension.
Kurt continued, his gaze fixed on Rachael's. 'What the hell makes you think I'll risk my daughter that way?'
'Because you love your brother, and because you can protect her. He'll have no defense against you.' She looked down at her hands, knotted together in her lap. 'I know what I'm asking, and I've gotten to know Avery last night, and this morning. She's such a special little girl.'
'Which is exactly why I don't want her burnt at a stake,' Kurt hissed. 'Your fathers don't actively prosecute people like me and Avery, but they don't protect them. If anyone were to find out that I had a weakness like her... the only reason they haven't killed me for being the way I am is fear, and because they need my cures and medicines. That isn't protection, princess.'
'Then do this, and I'll protect you. I'll write laws, and enforce them – I'll move you and Avery to the palace, and you can be protected by the crown. Other people like you will become respected, once there is a royal Witch.' Her eyes filled with genuine tears. 'You're my family, now, Kurt. I don't want to do this to you, but I don't see any other way.'
'How long?' he asked, his tone clipped. 'If he stays here for more than a week, he'll be snowed in with us for the winter. This entire forest is impassably dangerous after first snowfall.'
'Not that long,' she said, and wiped at her tears. 'A few days, at most. You can keep him shackled. This house is large enough.'
She was right; Avery slept downstairs in the main room, in a cranny made by the stairs, her own little room which was also the place where the two of them ate, read and played. It was connected to the kitchen, which was large, with an area for Kurt to work on potions which required the hearth. Upstairs was an attic space with a slanted roof where he did most of his work, and slept, and went when he needed to be alone or when Avery was asleep.
If need be, he could lock this Shadowy Prince bastard up there and leave him to rot, until a summons came, at which point he could send the man off into the woods with a by-your-leave and a half-hearted wish that the snows would wait for him to get to the forest's edge.
A slow, wicked grin crosses his features at the thought of sending the man who was causing his brother – and brand-new sister – so much pain into the snowy Enchanted Woods, where with any luck he'd be cursed to within an inch of his life by a pissed-off fairy.
Although that probably wouldn't do much to persuade King Cooper to make magick legal in the land to the east.
He sighed, remembering how his brother – older, gawky, destined for the life of a knight to follow in their father's footsteps but completely unsuited to the cruelty of that life – used to protect him. Fynn had always been good at being just like everyone else, at making friends, but he had never, ever been cruel. He was gentle, and kind, and he'd been at one point in Kurt's life the only thing he'd loved.
Gods be damned, he would do anything for that gargantuan moron, and if he loved this woman... he eyed Rachael, and then sighed, resigning himself to adoring her just as much as he did Fynn. He'd never been one to ignore, deny or fight love, and he wasn't going to start now. He'd spent too long missing love to ever take it for granted.
'Right, then, big sister. Let's figure out a way to make you and your elephantine groom invisible.'
And when she flung her arms around his neck, her musical laugh bright as stars, he closed his eyes and hoped to all the things he held dear – sewing and Avery and wild strawberries in spring – that he hadn't just made a really enormous mistake.
Blaine and Wilder looked up together at the sky-bruisingly tall trees of the Enchanted Wood, and contemplated the fact that this might be a really enormous mistake.
Wilder huffed softly with concern, and Blaine nodded, swallowing hard. 'I've heard about this place.' The words are nearly swept away from him on the wind. 'Why would anyone have brought her here? Gods, I hope she's alright.'
Generally, Blaine was used to being tougher than anything he came up against. He wasn't tall, but he was muscularly, slimly built, and he was fast, and clever. His twin swords were extensions of his arms, and his understanding and appreciation of sound had one him more than one battle.
But there was nothing to be done against magick, and this place... it was the place where all magick came from, a place literal alive with it.
Wilder – a huge, straggly grey wolfhound who knew him better than most people did – keened softly and he wound a hand comfortingly into wiry fur.
'It's alright, my lad. We've got each other, and their trail... Gods, it's like she was being led by a yeti.' He paused, considered the possibility that she was being led by a yeti, and dismissed it as unlikely. 'Shall we go and rescue the fair maiden, Wilder?'
The dog bounded off ahead of him into the woods, and all Blaine needed to do was follow. He was an excellent tracker in his own right, but he didn't delude himself that he was half as good as his pet, and Wilder had the princess' scent. The air was cold, sharp and fresh, threatening coming snow either this night or one soon to come, and he knew that if it fell the loss of the trail would probably be the least of his problems.
The freezing cold and the approaching darkness began to form more of a hinderence as the trail led them ever-deeper into the woods – it was also a bit alarming that they hadn't been attacked by anything big and snarly or small and magickal. It felt like a charmed journey, protected some how, and Blaine happily thought about hown the princess would throw herself at his feet and beg to make a happily-ever-after with him once he found her.
He frowned, climbing a steep slope, as he remembered the Kings' faces when they'd told him what they needed him to do, when they'd begged him to find her. His own parents had never loved him like that, although he supposed his much older brother probably did – after all, Coop had arranged this marriage, and future kingship, for Blaine. There was strong love there, even if it often came with guilt and some snide comment which managed to make Blaine feel like a toddler who had just spilt juice on an important scroll.
He hoped Rachael was alright, not because he was particularly looking forward to being married – he imagined it would probably reduce the amount of time he spent wandering about the countryside – but because her fathers had been so sad.
He wanted to save them from that, with all the fervour of a knight in shining armour.
Finally, reaching the top of the rise, he stepped into a clearing to find Wilder running in circles, looking deeply confused. He opened his mouth to bark, but no noise came out, and Blaine took a step forward, worried about the dog when -
In a heartbeat, he was trussed up in a net and hanging from a tree. Neither the trap nor the man who had set it were visible until the very moment when they'd been sprung, and now he lay, glowering, in a net which ran the length of his body and suspended him so he was lying parallel to the ground, looking up into a smiling face.
Witchcraft. The thought occurred to him, but he wasn't scared, for a simple reason: the man he was looking down at was extremely distracting, and despite the satisfied expression on his face, didn't look bloodthirsty.
The Witch of the Woods, that terrible, terrifying concept, was around Blaine's age, a little taller, built on a more willowy scale but strength and grace in the way he held himself, tall and confident. His skin was milky, perfect pale – at least, that which was visible above a handsome outfit comprised of dark leathers and wolf pelts. Pale, long-lashed eyes smiled at him, and a wide, expressive mouth was quirked into a half-smile of satisfaction at his handiwork.
The witch's warm brown hair reached his collar, softly waved and snowflakes crystal bright on some strands hanging into his face. With a leather-clad hand – Gods, Blaine managed to think, how would those gloved hands feel on bare skin? - he pushed a lock of that hair out of his eyes and sighed dramatically.
His voice was surprisingly high, counter-tenor and sweet, but with a note of huskiness which made Blaine thrash against his magickally enforced bonds, desperate for freedom and no understanding of why. Was the witch enchanting him, even as he grinned up at him.
'Well,' the witch said softly, looking up at his furious prey with interest, 'it seems I've caught myself a charming prince.'
It would be a while before Blaine realised that was the moment everything changed.
As ever, love to everyone who's been favouriting this and being generally without flaw. I can't really wait so smut will ensue soon... reviews make writing faster ;) xx Willows