12/30/2010

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, as always! This is quite a bit different than my other stories – it's an adventure, I'll say that much.

A great roar goes up from the crowd as the knight of Gray Manor is unseated from his horse. He's an older man, Sir Harold, and Prince Kurt isn't terribly surprised to see him on the ground. Still, he's one of the greatest knights in the kingdom of Hudson, and the crowd always roots for its own.

"Ouch," Mercedes whispers from his right side. "That looks like it hurt."

"I'm sure that the padding in his armor cushioned his fall," Kurt says, gently patting her on the shoulder.

"And if it didn't, the fat in his ass certainly did," Sebastian adds drolly.

Kurt rolls his eyes and turns back to the tourney. He's not certain how he feels about the show – on the one hand, he's never been a fan of violence and fighting. He'd preferred to stay with the ladies of court, embroidering and gossiping then going out to the fields and learning to fight. Luckily his father hadn't care, and his older brother Finn had always been a fighter.

So he's not a fan of the melee, certainly, and he doesn't like the idea of the tournament. The pageantry appeals to him, though, the banners flying, the cries of the men and women, the enameled armor.

And, Kurt thinks appreciatively as the knight from Fabray takes off his helmet, the handsome young knights don't hurt, either.

"Who's this one?" he asks. He's spent the last fortnight closeted away in chambers with his Father, Finn, and the counselors, going over the details of the betrothal. He's been away from the gossip lately, but he has no doubt that Mercedes will know every knight and every bannerman. She's only a chambermaid, but Mercedes has her finger on the gossip pulse of the castle. She probably knows who's married and who has fathered children, too.

This knight is particularly handsome, with wavy brown locks and piercing blue eyes. Broad-shouldered, and with a strong jawline. The knight smiles and salutes to the ladies, and then jumps down from his own mount to help Sir Harold to his feet.

"Sir Cooper," Mercedes sighs. She has one hand pressed to her impressive bosom, and a dreamy smile on her face. "He's one of the greatest knights of the realm. Unmarried, too, though it's said that he's broken a thousand hearts."

"Hmm," Kurt murmurs, still admiring the strong lines of the man's face. Beside him, Sebastian snorts. "Not your type?" Kurt asks wryly.

It's a well known fact that Sebastian will lay with any man, straight or gay. He's kissed more men that Kurt has met in his life, though he usually likes his men pretty. At one time, Kurt had been insulted that Sebastian never made a pass at him – until Mercedes pointed out that one doesn't love and leave a prince, not if a man wants to keep his head.

"I'd prefer his little squire, myself," Sebastian murmurs. Kurt glances at his best friend, and follows his line of sight. He's staring at a short young man who dashes forward to grab Sir Cooper's horse. A nice enough looking youth, Kurt thinks. Thick, curling dark hair and striking eyebrows over a classic face. His eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun, and he has the same broad shoulders as his knight.

Kurt smiles and shakes his head. "You don't have a chance," he says, watching the way that the squire strokes the horses mane and whispers in its ear. The horse quiets at once, no longer stomping the ground and snorting, but following the boy placidly back to the tents. Kurt's sharp eyes catch upon the pin at the squire's shoulder – a simple canary in a wreath of gold – the sign of the Maege's Tower.

"I have a chance with everyone," Sebastian snorts. "I'll wager you fifteen gold pieces that I'll tap that ass by the end of the night."

"I'll take that wager," Mercedes says quickly. She glances at Kurt and winks, and he realizes that his friend has noted the same sigil. "I could do with a new dress."

Sebastian spits in his hand, and runs his wet hand through his hair, smoothing down any errant strands before grinning cockily. "Swell," he says smoothly, before winking at both of them and sauntering off. "I could use some magic in my life, anyway."

Mercedes and Kurt both giggle, before turning their gazes back to the stiles. There's a trumpet announcing the next competitor, and they both pull forward on their seats. It's Prince Finn's turn now. He takes a moment to walk around the arena, smiling at the ladies and waving energetically at Kurt and their father. He stops for a moment before the royal box, bowing down low. Kurt glances sideways at the pretty blond that his brother is bowing to.

There's no doubt that the Princess Quinn is beautiful. Her hair is a gentle cascade of gold, and her eyes shin like a thousand emeralds. Still, there's something that Kurt doesn't like in her gaze – something cold and calculating. There is no doubt that this marriage is a good match for the kingdom, but between Finn's gentle exuberance and the princess's icy demeanor, Kurt thinks that it might not be the best match for his brother.

He and Mercedes stay long enough to see Finn tilt. It isn't a good match, but then jousting has never been Finn's strong suit. He's too tall and ungainly. He's a formidable fighter on the ground, when he can use his height and strength to his advantage, but on a horse he's awkward. They wince when he hits the ground, before leaving the arena and heading inside to dress for the banquet. On their way out they spot Sebastian and the squire. Kurt can't help but chuckle a little – Sebastian's pushed the smaller man up against a fence, his longer body nearly curling around the boy, who seems to be a bit nervous. Mercedes is frowning as Kurt nudges her in the ribs.

"Looks like you'll be fifteen gold pieces poorer," he whispers.

"We'll see," Mercedes grumbles. "I don't get it. . .Seb's not even that good-looking."

"He does look a bit like a meerkat," Kurt muses, before shrugging.

He takes a warm bath, ignoring the grumbling of the chamber maids who complain about laboring over a fire when it's so hot outside. Still, Kurt needs to look his absolute best for the feast. It's pure vanity, and he knows that, but even so. He must represent the kingdom to everyone from Fabray, and heavens knows that Finn can't shoulder that responsibility.

Lying in the rapidly cooling water, Kurt closes his eyes, and shifts his body down so that all but his head is submerged. Today the jousting, tonight the feast, tomorrow the melee, and then the betrothal ceremony. It will be a busy few days for his brother. . .Kurt thanks the great God once again that he hadn't been born the elder. He can't imagine being betrothed to somebody that he'd never met.

Although, if the unknown person looked anything like Sir Cooper. . .there's a small smile drifting across the boys' face when he thinks of the knight, who is surely everything that a knight should be: courteous and gallant, and ever so handsome. Kurt's never had dreams of being a damsel in distress, but he thinks that it would be rather nice to be rescued by a big hunk of a man like Cooper, to be held tightly in those strong arms. . .

He's about to drift off into. . .better. . .fantasies, when there's a hard knock at his door. "Hummel!" Sebastian yells through the door. "Hurry your arse up. I need you in the banquet room now."

"Why?" Kurt murmurs back. His voice probably only just carries through the heavy oak door, but he doesn't really care.

"I'm still wooing the squire," Sebastian says back. "He'll be at the head table, which means I need to be at the head table, which means we need to get there before your brother and all his buffoonish friends.

Kurt sighs. He has no particular desire to help his friend make another conquest, especially once that seems so easy. The short squire had seemed overwhelmed earlier in the day. . .he wouldn't withstand Sebastian and his charms for long. He had no doubt that Sebastian would start pulling out some of the magic tricks that he had learned from the herbmasters, and it wouldn't surprise him at all to learn that even now his friend had the crushed leaves and berry juices necessary to make a love potion. He almost felt badly for the squire.

It then occurs to him that a squire would only be at the head table if the knight he was attending was also there – which meant Sir Cooper. Suddenly it seems like a much better idea to be prompt to the feast.

He dresses carefully, despite the haste, ignoring the irritated huffs from Sebastian just outside the door. The blue silk, he decides, with the silver and green threading. A pair of black leather boots – lace up, to nearly his thigh. His father will shake his head in bemusement, and his mother will want a similar pair. He brushes through his hair quickly as well, making sure that each strand was perfectly in place. He glances in the shard of glass that he had – perfection.

He opens the door to find Sebastian stretched out along the ground, lanky body taking up the majority of walking way. Kurt just quirks one eyebrow at the pathetic sight. "Really, Seb?"

The other boy scrambles to his feet. "I don't think you get it, Kurt," he grouses as the two young men head down to the Great Hall. "This guy. . .Gods, he's got the tightest little ass, and these calloused hands with long fingers that you just know. . and his eyes,"

"Okay, I think I get it," Kurt says, although the picture he's forming in his mind is broad shoulders and blue eyes. "What are they doing at the head table, anyway?"

"Apparently the good Sir Cooper is Princess Quinn's sworn Shield," Sebastian explains. "One of the oldest houses in Fabray. And Blaine is his youngest brother, so he'll be joining them."

"Who's Blaine?"

"The squire," Sebastian says, exasperation in his voice. He squints at Kurt. "Are you fooling with me, Hummel?"

"I? Jest?" Kurt raises one hand and flutters it delicately. "That you should even accuse me of such a thing!"

Sebastian just grumbles under his breath as they enter the Great Hall.

They're still somewhat late, even with Kurt having hurried his preparations. His mother and father are in their accustomed spots, the short, dark king and queen of Fabray in the spots of highest honor. Princess Quinn sits beside her brother. Kurt smiles in approval – she looks truly stunning, with a light green silk dress that shows off her eyes, and silver thread wound through her hair to make it shine more than usual. Beside her, Finn looks as oafish as ever.

"Oh my Great Lord," Sebastian moans. "So goddamn beautiful."

Kurt is about to agree with the assessment, when he realizes that his friend isn't looking at the princess at all, but just a bit down the table where the squire is sitting beside a rather homely girl. Sir Cooper is nowhere in sight.

"Sir Cooper is notoriously late to banquets," Sebastian says, his eyes still fixated on Blaine. "Great Lord, do you think your father would be angered if I just picked him up and had my way with him over the meat course?"

"At least wait for the fish," Kurt says drolly, leading the way to the table. He won't let the disappointment show on his face – he's too well trained for that, but he dearly wishes that Sir Cooper were around. He sits down a bit heavily, though he keeps his manners enough to first bow toward the strange young lady, who smiles brightly at him.

"Your Grace," the squire – Blaine – says, hurriedly jumping to his feet, simultaneously attempting to bow. It's ridiculous looking, his body bent double, while in motion, and he nearly hits Kurt's head with the bottom of his chin. Kurt just sighs and pats the bench beside him.

"Blaine, is it? Sit down before you hurt yourself."

"Yes, Your Grace," Blaine says again, before hurriedly sitting down. The girl titters, and Kurt turns his gaze to her.

"Such a lovely flower to grace us with your presence," Kurt says smoothly. "I am afraid that I know not your acquaintance, fair lady."

"Oh, no lady, Your Grace," she says, and she blushes prettily. It's almost enough to make up for the straight, thick eyebrow, or the two-large nose. "Just Rachel - Merely an apprentice at the Maege's Tower." She gestures toward the gold brooch, high on her shoulder. Kurt lets out a low whistle before he has the chance to stop himself.

By tradition, after entering the Maege's Tower, apprentices don't leave, though occasionally a high-born apprentice might leave to attend to noble matters. He'd assumed that Blaine was somehow related to Cooper – a temporary squire at best, for the betrothal ceremony. To see one apprentice abroad was odd enough, but to see two, and one a woman, was almost unheard of.

"Your presence honors this humble hall," Sebastian purrs, before turning to look at the boy seated to Kurt's left. "As does yours, milord."

Kurt has half a mind to slap his friend across the face, insinuating that he was somehow connected to the royal family. Still, it was humorous to see his friend trying so desperately to weasel his way into a boy's pants. Even more amusing was the brief look of panic in the boy's eyes, before schooling his face into a polite mask.

Well, Kurt thought, Sebastian was right about one thing, at least. Blaine did have lovely eyes.

"Thank you," Blaine says, black eyelashes fluttering a little too quickly to be anything but nerves. "I'm not a lord, though. Just Blaine."

"Plain Blaine," the girl laughs, though at least she has the grace to look ashamed when Kurt glances at her. "At least. . .that's as they call him in the Maege's Tower. Your Grace."

"The fair fine Blaine, so long as the moon may wax and wane, so long as men may call me sane, so long as red wine silk doth stain, my heart shall beat a tune so plain, a song of love for Blaine," Sebastian whispers coyly. Kurt manages to disguise his laugh as a cough. It doesn't help when Blaine begins patting him on the back uncertainly, the tips of his eyes stained red.

The night continues on in the same vein, with Sebastian becoming ever more desperate, while Blaine seems to settle in to the praise and ceases to react. Rachel flits from topic to topic at dizzying speeds, and it's all that Kurt can do to keep up with her. She's as well-learned as any noble lady, though when he asks her to show off a bit of magic she politely demurs.

It is as the pies are being served (Kurt's mouth waters, even though he knows what they will do to his hips) that King Edmund rises to his feet. "Oh no," Rachel whispers. "I thought he decided not to do this."

"Do what?" Kurt asks, curious and feeling strangely left out.

"It's a silly tradition," Blaine whispers lowly. His breath is hot against Kurt's skin. "The Kingdom of Fabray hasn't exercised it in years."

"It's because of the prophecy," Rachel insists. "You know that it is."

Kurt is just about to inquire about the prophecy when the king starts to speak.

"King Burt, Queen Carole, we thank you for your fine hospitality," the king says. "For the fine tourney today, and this marvelous feast. We look forward to the melee tomorrow, and to the betrothal ceremony. The young heir Finn is a fine and upstanding young man, and a great warrior. We could not ask for more for our princess."

Kurt glances at the princess for a moment, where her eyes are demurely downcast. Finn is just staring at him, hearts nearly pouring out of his eyes.

"And yet. . ." the king pauses for a moment. "And yet there is something that we must ask, something that our great kingdom demands."

"I told you," Rachel hisses fiercely. "You see Blaine, I told you."

"What?" Kurt asks again.

Blaine and the king speak at the same time, as though in answer together to Kurt's question. "A quest."

A/N: Meh. Hate the ending there, but I was getting tired of drawing out the chapter.

COMING SOON: The melee! The delicious Sir Cooper returns, we find out what happened to Tina & co. from the prologue and Finn must decide whether to accept this mysterious quest.