It wasn't the sound of shuffling and whispering and moaning that woke Kurt this time. It was that of people yelling and blades crashing against each other, creating a terrible cacophony. His cheek was red and swollen were he had rested it on Blaine's chest, which kept going up and down with his breathing in a reassuring rhythm, and Blaine looked peaceful and content in his sleep, floating in a world where no one was yelling or fighting, where Kurt couldn't reach him if he tried. But he had survived the night, and that was good.

More shouts and noises, and Kurt shook his head to get rid of the sleepiness and dizziness in his mind to act on instinct. He crouched in front of the still shape of Blaine, half standing and half kneeling, looking frantically around for something sharp he could use as a weapon to protect him. But as his eyes lay on the medical kit Brittany had left in a corner of the tent, the wind blew from the entrance, and Kurt looked up to find an armed Dothraki warrior in front of him.

He was older than Blaine, with long hair black like coal and strong cheekbones and jaw. His body wasn't covered in tattoos as much as Blaine's was, but there weren't any burns either. The warrior had his arakh ready in his right hand, and was looking between Kurt and what he could see of Blaine with narrowed eyes. Kurt glared back at him, even though he wasn't exactly in the position to do it. Outside, he could hear Finn's voice clearly now, fighting, fighting against others. He was alone. Alone to protect his khal and a secret that was no longer a secret.

"So it's true" the Dothraki said in a gravelly voice, looking beyond Kurt's shoulder with venom in his eyes. "He fell."

Kurt swallowed liquid panic as he opened his arms to be as wide a human shield as he could be. He knew perfectly well that it didn't make any difference.

"No, he didn't" he lied. "He just needs to rest, because of the wound he got in the Lamb city."

That made the warrior angry.

"Don't you dare lie to me" he almost spat in his face. "People saw. He is not my khal anymore, and you are not my khalees either."

"He is!" Kurt found himself shouting, fists clenching. "And I won't let you hurt him!"

The man chuckled, a mocking grin on his face, but he put his arakh back at his hip and crossed his arms over his muscled chest.

"There is no fun in killing people already dead" he stated. "I will save my blade for those I need to kill to be the new Khal."

Kurt opened his mouth to reply, but something shifting behind him made him stop. When he carefully turned around, watching the warrior out of the corner of his eye, he found Blaine looking back at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, his body propped up on an elbow.

"I'd love to see you try, Zaro" Blaine said to the warrior, who looked as shocked as Kurt felt.

"My sun-and-stars?" Kurt ventured, shuffling forward to kneel beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He wanted to kiss him and stroke his cheek and hug him, tell him how scared he had been, but he wasn't going to make Blaine look weak in Zaro's eyes.

"I'm here, moon of my life" Blaine said under his breath, gesturing for Kurt to help him shift in a sitting position. He winced with the movement, but he managed.

"It makes no matter" Zaro piped up, even though his boldness seemed duller now, his voice subdued. "You know how it works."

"And you know a deposed khal can fight to win back his title" Blaine replied coolly. He looked like he was going to sag backwards at any moment, so Kurt was silently supporting him with a hand at the small of his back, where no one could see.

Zaro clenched his jaw and said nothing, turning around to leave the tent, but in that moment Finn came in. He was drenched in sweat and he had his sword in his hand, but there was no blood on it.

"Stay away from them!" he threatened angrily, pointing his sword toward Zaro, but it was written plain on his face how exhausted he was.

"It's okay, Zaro was leaving" Kurt said. The warrior glared at him and Blaine for the last time, ignoring Finn completely, and walked past him to get out of the tent.

The moment he did it, Blaine released a long breath and flopped down on his back, the movement accompanied by Kurt's hand. Kurt eased it out from underneath Blaine's back and stroked black curls out of his forehead, his hand sliding down to cup his cheek. Blaine's hand came up to cover his own.

"I was so scared" Kurt whispered, allowing the tears he had kept locked inside to finally flow down his face. "So very scared, my sun-and-stars."

"And even so, you were so brave, standing there in front of me to protect me" Blaine said, smiling slightly. They gazed into each other's eyes and forgot the rest of the world, until Finn cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt" he mumbled, shuffling his feet. He managed to look embarrassed even with a sword in hand. "But the khal will have to fight soon."

Kurt straightened his back suddenly and looked down at Blaine with a manic expression. For a moment, he had forgotten what the previous conversation meant.

"You- you can't" he blurted, looking back at Finn to find a confirmation that wasn't there. "He just woke up, they have to give him time, they-"

"They are starting the fights this very moment" Finn said, biting his lip. "The Dothraki who beats all the others will fight against the khal in one last combat. Judging by how many warriors want the title, I would say we have 'till sunset."

"But he can barely stand! There has to be another way!"

"I'm sorry, khalees, there isn't."

"But-"

"Enough" Blaine spoke up suddenly, one elbow propped up again despite the pain. His voice gave no room for replies. "Finn, go find the Lamb slave to tend to my wound again. Then look for my bloodriders and tell them to come here. Are they still faithful to me?"

"They are, my khal" Finn replied solemnly, shyness suddenly gone. "They fought by my side to help me keep other warriors away from the tent."

"Good" Blaine said simply. "Go now."

Finn nodded minutely and shuffled out of the tent, the two parts of the entryway closing behind him like a mouth set in a thin line. Kurt stared at them silently, avoiding Blaine's gaze pointedly.

"Look at me, moon of my life" he heard Blaine say. But he didn't. He couldn't.

"Kurt" Blaine tried again.

"You're going to die" Kurt turned on him almost furiously, fists clenched at his sides and angry tears pooling in his eyes. "I almost lost you and you just came back to me, only to leave me all over again. You're going to die, Blaine."

Blaine stared at him silently for a moment, his mouth working around words that didn't come. Then suddenly, as if challenged, he straightened his back to sit on the furs again, ignoring the hand Kurt reached out toward him to help him. When Blaine managed to sit, there was sweat on his temples and his arms were shaking, but he didn't stop at that. He kept moving, one palm flat on the furs to support himself and stand, muffling groans of pain by biting his lip hard.

"No, don't-"

He was kneeling now, just as Kurt was, towering over him with a prideful expression. But when he lifted a leg to get a foot down and stand, it quivered and gave out, and the only thing that stopped him from falling face down on the furs was Kurt, one arm around his waist and one of Blaine's draped across Kurt's shoulders.

For the first time since Kurt knew him, Blaine was so angry he looked close to tears.

"I can stand, I can" he said stubbornly, trying once again, but Kurt held him down by the waist.

"You don't have to pretend with me. You feel weak. You look pale again, and you are shaking" he whispered.

Blaine turned his face toward him, and suddenly they were mere inches apart. He stroked Kurt's nose with his, and one of Kurt's hands came up to cup his jaw, grounding him, stopping the both of them from trembling.

"I have no choice" Blaine whispered, something like defeat in his voice. Kurt felt ashamed and desperate when the answer came up in his head, but he said it anyway.

"We could run" he pleaded, the words coward and pitiful in his own ears. "We could go to Pentos and ask Sandy to take us in, we-"

"What about your throne?" Blaine cut in sharply, but he didn't look angry anymore. "What about your vengeance? What about me? What about the price I paid to be what I am now?"

Kurt knew what – who – he was talking about, but he bit his lip and didn't bring it up, even though Blaine himself had spoken about his father to him the day before, unconsciously. He didn't know if he was ready to ask yet.

"Dothraki never run away. I will never run away. But..." Blaine paused. "If things start to go wrong, I want you to-"

"Don't" Kurt said, his hand tightening on Blaine's face, thumb on his cheekbone.

Don't make me leave you right after you made me love you.

"That is why I summoned Wes and David" Blaine went on, ignoring him. His eyes seemed cool and distant, determined. "If things go wrong, you can't wait for the fight to be over. The new khal could decide to rape you, or kill you, or both. You will leave the khalasar with my bloodriders, Finn Hudson and your personal slaves, and you won't look back."

Kurt knew it was the rational thing to do, but he was far from rational, and just thinking about leaving Blaine behind as he was dying made him sick.

"I am your khalees" he whispered heatedly, forehead pressed against Blaine's. "I can't let you die alone."

He felt the arm Blaine hadn't draped over his shoulders find its way around his waist, squeezing.

"I won't be alone" Blaine whispered back, closer to Kurt's lips. "It's you I will think about right before the end."

And the rest was kissing and shaking and more kissing, Kurt crying and Blaine laughing or maybe the other way around. It was too difficult for Kurt to know who was doing what, because as they kissed, they were one.

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Finn had been right. It wasn't until sunset that Blaine was summoned to fight. Brittany had closed the wound for good after reassuring them that the infection was gone, and had prepared a potion that would make Blaine stronger and another one to try and chase the renewed fever away. Blaine drank them both reluctantly, but it was clear that he was finally starting to trust Brittany.

A couple of hours before the summoning, he had managed to stand and start pacing inside the tent, stopping every now and then to flex his legs up and down and stretch his arms and back. The first time his legs shook, Kurt had offered to support him while he walked, but Blaine had refused, settling for using tables and chairs to lean on when his body betrayed him. But there weren't going to be tables or chairs out there in the open, nor people to hold him around the waist if he stumbled.

Kurt had decided that watching Blaine pace around precariously like that would only make him more scared, so he had sprawled on a long wooden bench covered with cushions and was currently stroking the scales of his three fossilized dragon eggs.

"Did dragons really exist?" Blaine asked. They never spoke about the history of Westeros, but Kurt had caught Blaine looking at the eggs curiously more than once, probably wondering why Kurt seemed to like them so much.

"Yes" he replied without looking up, his fingertips skimming on the hard globes. "But the last one died long ago."

"Would you be happy if you had one?"

"Yes."

It would make everything so much easier.

"But... would you be able to tell it what to do? Like with a horse?"

"My ancestors used to ride them" Kurt answered sadly, a secret longing in his heart. He couldn't imagine something more amazing than riding a dragon in the sky. Generations of Hummelsmythes had done it over the years – they were the only ones who could. Sebastian was sure he was going to be the next one, and when Kurt was little, his brother used to tell him stories with them as characters, two princes riding dragons that shimmered gold and red under the sun. Then, one day, Sebastian grew up suddenly, and there were no more bedtime stories for little Kurt.

Shaking his head slightly to escape the reverie, Kurt took the eggs one by one and placed them back inside their chest, which was perched on a small wooden table next to the brazier were Rachel had cooked them lunch. Chunks of hot coal still burned inside it, and faint lines of smoke licked up from them. He turned around and went back to the bench, but before he could lay down again, he heard Blaine cursing and something heavy crashing down to the ground.

"Fuck, I thought it was going to support me!" Blaine said, gesturing to the broken brazier, its pieces scattered on the ground among ashes and coals. The dragon eggs lay under them, the chest and the table fallen as well. Silently, Kurt kneeled to scoop them up and clean them, but he stopped himself before he could reach out for them. What if...

He stared, and then stared some more, but nothing happened. The eggs seemed to glow with the heat seeping through them from the coal, but nothing changed inside them. How fool of him to think that the simple touch of fire could wake them.

You can't wake something already dead, he thought bitterly.

So he touched them, rummaging through the scolding mess to pick them up and stroke them to get rid of the black dust that covered them.

"Be careful, moon of my life, you will get burns" he heard Blaine say in an awed and surprised voice.

"It's fine" he replied, cradling the eggs against his body and easing them down inside the chest. As he picked it up from the ground, Finn came in.

"It's time" he said, just like Sebastian did when he had announced Kurt's fate to him. And just like that day, Kurt felt trapped and useless, like a cornered mouse waiting for death to come.

For the first time in hours, he forced himself to look at Blaine. His khal was standing proudly now, chin raised high and hands on his hips, a new white bandage on his chest. He had the makeup again, black lines smudged around his eyes and two straight stripes of red painting on each cheek - the fighting makeup, Kurt knew. It was supposed to bring you luck, and the hope that those intimidating imitations of blood were the only red you were going to see on your own skin. Kurt hoped so, too.

"Remember what I said, my khalees" Blaine addressed him, his voice strong and commanding – his khal-voice, Kurt had started to call it. Then there was the Blaine-voice, the one he'd use when they were alone, when he called him Kurt. But there was no room for that now. For the fighting, Blaine had to separate the two parts of himself and slip inside the khal's skin. But as they walked out of the tent, the khal looked back to give Kurt a last tender look that was all Blaine.

The blood-red light of the setting sun hit them in the face when they walked out, and its color seemed creepily appropriate to Kurt, since countless amounts of blood had been spilled during the day while they hid inside their bubble of safety. Blaine had wanted to see the other warriors fight, but Kurt had convinced him that it was no good to let them see him before his turn came. Zaro had surely spread the word about how weak he had seen him, so maybe Blaine could use the surprise factor.

As soon as the Dothraki gathered outside saw them approaching, the evening silence echoed with the sound of beating drums, a monotonous hum that settled inside Kurt's head and made it pound painfully to the rhythm, like it had happened at the wedding. Why did everything remind him of that?

There where people gathered in a circle and other people dancing frantically close behind and the sand under his feet was covered in patches of blood and human insides, but the difference was that Blaine was not going to sit next to him and watch, sipping wine and chuckling secretly to himself. It seemed so long before. As if it had happened in another life.

The crowd split in two to let them pass, and despite the pounding drums Kurt could hear whispers of surprise as Blaine walked toward the centre of the empty space. He could see old wrinkled women do strange things with their hands in the air and mouthing words like "ghost" and "revenge" and "come back from death", their faces crumpled and scared. He stopped at the front row to have the best visual, even though it wasn't the safest place if he was to run away suddenly. Blaine's bloodriders appeared at his sides, reverent and silent, giving him a curt nod. Finn and his slaves were close behind, the girls carrying bags full of Kurt's most precious properties, eggs included.

The night was crawling its way through the world but the sun looked like it didn't want to disappear, fighting with the stars and the moon for the honor of witnessing what was yet to come. It didn't matter, in the end; what mattered was that they were under the sky, and if Blaine died, his death was going to be remembered with the importance it deserved. It wasn't going to happen inside a tent stuffed with the stench of pus and blood and sickness.

From where he was, Kurt could see Blaine's back and the front of the Dothraki he had to fight against. He wore more makeup than Blaine, since his skin had still room for it, so thick red lines marked his shoulders and pectorals. Squinting his eyes to fight the growing darkness, Kurt realized that it was Zaro.

He thought there would be a speech, or a pause in the music, something to proclaim the beginning of the fight; but no one spoke up from the silence and the drums never stopped beating, and with a silent nod between Blaine and Zaro, it began.

Arakhs in hand, they circled around each other warily, studying the movements of the respective enemy like tigers getting ready to strike, hiding in the tall grass and staring at their innocent game drinking from a quiet stream. With the music in the background, it almost looked like a dance, and Kurt desperately wished it was. His stomach was tied in knots, and his hands were sweating.

Zaro was the first to try a strike. He lounged forward unexpectedly just as he was approaching the side of the circle where Kurt was, so Kurt could see Blaine receiving the attack. He stepped aside and blocked Zaro's blade with his – he held it with the arm opposite to where the wound was, thankfully – and the weapons kissed briefly in the air before Blaine stepped back, walking backwards to the center of the space. He wiped sweat away from his forehead absentmindedly.

Already, Kurt thought, his throat constricted with fear. It was the fever, and a body forced to recover too fast. But Blaine masked it too well for the rest of the khalasar to notice, and after that first blow, Kurt started to hear Dothraki around him whisper that maybe Blaine could do it. Someone even bet on it. Other people, instead, were clearly cheering for Zaro, but Kurt had learned enough of Dothraki culture to know that they weren't to blame. It didn't mean they weren't loyal to Blaine; they just thought he had to prove himself to them to be worthy of their loyalty. In their eyes, he had let them down.

The next strike came from Blaine himself. He rotated his arakh in a threatening gesture, then plunged forward, aiming at Zaro's abdomen. The typical Dothraki weapon was so sharp that it could tear a man's guts apart or cut a man's head from his neck with one single blow. Zaro jumped back, and the staring and circling dance began once again.

And on and on it went. Blaine tried a blow and Zaro blocked it; Zaro tried a blow and Blaine moved aside, probably to save the energy the blocking required. But it was wearing him down, Kurt could see – and he knew that Zaro could see it, too. He looked more pleased with each new strike, even though Blaine was avoiding them all. He was sweating and his skin looked pale again, and when night finally conquered the earth and the Dothraki lit torches to see the fight, it glowed in a sickly-looking pale brown shade.

As Kurt's eyes got used to the change of light, Blaine faltered for the first time, when a blow from Zaro's arakh got deviated from his neck in a clash of steel on steel only to land on his left upper arm, slicing his skin. Kurt could see the gash wasn't deep, but other pain was the last thing Blaine needed. The khal clutched at his arm and groaned, his hand covered in red when he removed it from the wound.

He panted harshly and took two shaking steps backwards, putting space between him and Zaro, and at the third step his foot almost lost its balance. His head was spinning, Kurt realized. Someone put a hand on his shoulder from behind.

"Khalees, maybe we should-"

"No" he said through gritted teeth. The hand was gone. It was Finn.

Blaine had said he had to go if things started to go wrong, but they could still get better, they had to. There were so many things Kurt didn't know about Blaine, so many things Blaine didn't know about him, about love, about dragons. There were cities they had to conquer together and the sweet taste of vengeance waiting for them on a throne made of a thousand swords.

The fight went on, and even though Blaine looked like he was struggling to stand on his feet, he managed to block five other blows from Zaro. The point, though, was that he wasn't attacking anymore. He couldn't defend himself forever. People started to scream advices and shout for him to attack, others yelled obscenities and mocked him for cowardice, but Blaine never let them distract him, any of them; he had eyes only for his enemy.

But as Zaro ran toward him once again, aiming straight for his head, Blaine did something he had never done before. He ducked under the blow instead of stepping to the side, then circled around Zaro and hit, his blade landing between the warrior's shoulder-blades in a silent caress. If Blaine had been stronger, the blow would probably have been fatal, and the blade would have remained stuck inside the man's flesh. But Blaine wasn't at his best, so the arakh sliced skin and muscle only slightly. Even so, it was something. Kurt felt hope blossoming inside his heart.

Zaro howled and fell to his knees, giving Blaine a perfect view of his back, bare and unprotected; but Blaine waited too long to try, and the other Dothraki rolled to the side before he could lift his long curved knife in the air above him. From the ground, Zaro kicked at one of Blaine's ankles with all his strength and Blaine screamed, crumpling to the ground as well.

Zaro was standing now, towering over Blaine, who was trying to stand up wincing and cursing at his swollen ankle. He started to crawl backwards on his back, using his elbows for support, and when Zaro lifted his head and laughed, too high on his likely victory to care, Blaine took the opportunity to turn his head toward Kurt and stare at him intently, his eyes shining and pleading in the torches' light, red and black makeup ruined by the slickness of his face.

Kurt wondered dully how he managed to still look like the most beautiful man he had ever seen, with mingled patches of crusting colors covering his nose and cheeks, some of them sliding down his jaw. Then, when he realized what the stare meant, he shook his head from side to side, his eyes burning. Blaine mouthed his name in a silent plea, and he shook his head again.

"Khalees" Wes addressed him, as Zaro rotated his arakh in the air, ready to make an end to the fight.

"I'm not going" Kurt replied without looking at him, his eyes on the laughing warrior. "You can't make me."

"We can, actually" David chimed in, one hand coming up to grip Kurt's upper arm slightly. "It was our khal's last command."

When he felt Wes' hand gripping his other arm as well, tightly this time, Kurt trashed between them and screamed. They began to drag him backwards, away from the fight, away from Blaine, away from everything, and Kurt screamed louder, kicking uncontrollably. He heard Finn whispering soothing words from behind, telling him to calm down, but he ignored him.

Just as they managed to drag him backwards enough for the first row of people to close before them, Kurt heard Zaro scream and saw the Dothraki move through the gap between the two heads that blocked his view. Kurt craned his neck to look, struggling against Wes and David, and saw Blaine lifting his uninjured leg from the ground to kick against Zaro's crotch before he could hit him. The warrior screamed in pain and cupped himself, taking a step back. Blaine rolled to his side, using the same leg to support his weight, and slowly stood again. Half the crowd cheered and clapped.

"Let me go, let me go!" Kurt shouted at the bloodriders, whose grip was weakening. "He can do this, look!"

They looked unconvinced, so they didn't let him go completely, but they didn't keep dragging him either, ready to do it again at any time. Meanwhile, Blaine had probably punched Zaro in the face, because he was clutching at his jaw and spitting blood. The warrior made a horrible red smile, and then it happened.

It was over so quickly that Kurt had to blink several times afterwards to wrap his head around the fact that it was. They had lurched forward at the same time, Zaro aiming at Blaine's chest with the point of his arakh to stab his bandaged wound, Blaine aiming at Zaro's stomach.

Blaine had been faster.

His blade had sliced Zaro's abdomen from side to side as if it was a pie on a plate, but instead of white sweet cream, blood and insides spilled out from the cut, red angry snakes breaking free and crawling in the sand. The body fell face down in its own blood, one last breath drowned by the coppery liquid.

The world stopped for an instant and started spinning again when Blaine shouted.

"Who is your Khal?" he demanded, hands raised in the air, arakh shining wetly. Blood had spilled on his face and chest, too. He looked positively terrifying.

"BLAINE!" the crowd erupted, but Kurt was too shocked to scream along, mesmerized by the sight of Blaine winning a fight. Did he look like that every single time? So powerful, so dangerous? It was probably the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he didn't look in pain at all. He looked as if he could do anything.

"Who is your Khal?" Blaine asked again, louder, his eyes wild as he circled around the corpse of his enemy.

"BLAINE! BLAINE! BLAINE!"

Wes and David had let him go to shout along, fists raised high. Around them, there were people laughing and dancing together, and even those who had cheered for Zaro were smiling, proud of their khal for winning back their trust. There were people fucking, too, Kurt realized with a roll of his eyes. He didn't even blush anymore when he saw them.

As he turned back to the center of the circle, he saw Blaine kneeling to grip Zaro's hair and lift his body from the ground, the arakh in his other hand. Blaine lifted him until the corpse's knees hit the sand, then he put the blade against his neck and sliced it through Zaro's throat, laughing. The body collapsed, leaving the lifeless head in Blaine's hand.

"And who is the man you will follow to the end of the world and back?" Blaine shouted, raising the head and shaking it wildly.

The crowd screamed his name again, and Blaine spun in a circle, before his eyes landed on Kurt. He stopped in his tracks and smiled his Blaine-smile, there under the stars where everyone could see, covered in blood and death and victory, and Kurt smiled back.