Kurt was reminding Blaine more and more of the elf he had been at the beginning of their journey. He was both hyper-sensitive and aloof, crying into Blaine's arms one moment and refusing to look him in the eye the next.

Blaine was starting to get very worried.

Blaine was driving because they had decided that it would be more useful to have Kurt at the ready in case of an attack. Blaine was starting to wonder at this decision, however, as Kurt very nearly jumped every time an animal rustled through the grasses.

Blaine held Kurt's hand as much as possible, and tried desperately to distract him with near-constant chatter. He told Kurt about N'auri and his grandmother and the river where he and his brother had liked to swim. He told Kurt about the Academy and all the mischief he had gotten up to with the spoiled boys of Villalu Proper. He told Kurt about the different weapons he had learned to use there, hoping that this might give Kurt some comfort. He asked Kurt if he would make them some stew that night when they set up camp, and then talked about which root vegetables he preferred.

Then he asked if Kurt would play his pipes while they rode. At first Kurt demurred, but when he finally began to play Blaine realized that he should have just asked him to play in the first place.

Because he could simply feel the tension roll off of Kurt as he wrapped himself in the music. The fear was still there, but Kurt seemed to breathe it out into the notes, releasing it from his body as he filled their path with music.

Blaine let Kurt lose himself in the music, closing his eyes as it washed over him. It neutralized what little effectiveness he had as a lookout, but it was clearly soothing some of his pain, so Blaine thought it was worth the sacrifice.

It also seemed to distract Kurt from the many small details Blaine noticed around them as they passed through the countryside and into the forest, drawing ever-closer to the border.

Such as the trees embedded with iron-tipped arrows and smeared with plum-colored Sidhe blood.

Or the leathery, discolored human ears nailed to a fencepost.

Or the shriveled, graying Sidhe ears nailed to another.

Blaine was very glad that Kurt was too absorbed in his pipes to notice the large boulder that they rode past, a message smeared across it in dark purple blood.

The message was actually a passage from the T'aukhi Scrolls, the sacred writings of the Followers of Frilau, the closest thing to a state religion that Villalu had.

"To tame the mighty Sidhe, and to bind him in iron and use him for the pleasure of men is a kindness, for only through this may he pay penance for his cruelty and find his way to Summerland."

Blaine may have increased their pace more than slightly until the writing was far behind them.

By the time they finally made camp, Kurt seemed to have relaxed a bit. He did make stew for their supper, but he didn't eat much of it. He didn't even seem excited when Blaine mentioned that he thought he had seen some honeysuckle growing just a little ways back along the path.

"How much farther?" Blaine asked with concern, trying to figure out where they were on the map he held.

"Probably two or three days, if we continue at our current rate and don't run into any trouble," Kurt replied, pointing out their location to Blaine.

"You...you really seem to remember the route quite well."

"It's not the sort of thing you forget, Blaine. I spent the entire time in a wheeled iron cage, trying to memorize everything I possibly could about the landscape because I was sure I would find a way to escape. I was sure of it." He sighed heavily and looked away.

Blaine decided to stop making observations about Kurt's uncanny powers of recollection.

"The stew is delicious, Kurt," he supplied lamely instead.

Kurt looked over at him. "I'm sorry, Blaine."

"Now who's apologizing unnecessarily?"

"I just...I'm sorry you have to see me like this. I'm sorry if I'm being moody. It's...I know it's completely irrational, but I keep thinking that they're around here somewhere. That they're going to find us while we're sleeping and it's just going to happen all over again. Except it will be worse, because they'll get you too."

Blaine reached out and took Kurt's hand. He didn't need to ask who Kurt was talking about.

"I won't let anyone hurt you again, Kurt, and you won't let anyone hurt me. Or have you forgotten how good we are at rescuing each other?"

Kurt smiled. "We are quite good at that," he agreed.

They slept in shifts.

Neither of them were particularly enthused to sleep without the solid warmth of the other man pressed against him, but they were in dangerous country and it simply wasn't safe. And although it embarrassed Kurt to admit it, Blaine knew how afraid he was to fall asleep because of what had happened to him five years ago.

Five years ago, while he had been sleeping.

Kurt didn't sleep well, especially without Blaine to cling to, but he did manage to secure a few hours here and there while Blaine sat by the opening of the tent with a bow and a quiver full of iron-tipped arrows.

An iron spear buried in the heart would kill a human just as well as a Sidhe, after all.

Blaine also maintained constant awareness of his proximity to his other weapons. He kept them strategically placed nearby, so that they were hidden from view but very easily accessible to him in a moment of need.

There was his sword, the throwing stars, and the iron knuckles studded with jagged spikes. There was also a double-sided battle axe. And a whip. Blaine had the least expertise with the whip, but he was sure he could handle it with reasonable competency if the need arose.

Maybe it was overkill. But he wasn't taking any chances.

Blaine felt himself almost nodding off a few times, and finally decided to wake Kurt rather than chance falling asleep at his post. He crawled into the tent and touched Kurt lightly, and Kurt flew bolt upright with a blood-curdling scream.

Blaine leapt back but grasped Kurt's hand tightly, his eyes wide with shock.

Kurt panted and looked around wildly, squeezing Blaine's hand and finally seeming to realize what it meant that he was holding onto it, and that it was attached to Blaine, and that they were the only two people there.

"Blaine...oh, gods, I could smell him. He was the one that kept...even the others told him not to do it so much, that it would drive the price down, that it would ruin me, but he..."

Kurt pulled Blaine to him so hard that Blaine almost lost his balance. Kurt buried his face in his chest and inhaled deeply.

"Gods, Blaine, I don't want to smell him, I want to smell you. I don't want to remember what it felt like, I just...I...Blaine..."

Kurt had begun to almost claw at Blaine's tunic while he wrapped his arms and legs around him and began kissing his neck fast and hard. He kept mumbling half-sentences as his hands roamed everywhere and he straddled Blaine, grinding hard against his lap and panting desperately, as if trying to burrow inside Blaine's flesh just to escape the sense memory of the long-buried attacks that the dream had awoken.

"Kurt," Blaine soothed, running his hands slowly up and down Kurt's arms, and then moving them down to his hips to gently still them.

"Kurt. Stop. Look at me."

Kurt just continued to claw and grab until Blaine gently took Kurt's hands in his.

"Kurt."

Kurt slumped against Blaine's neck, his breath ragged. "Gods, Blaine," he whispered. He wasn't crying. He sounded like he was beyond tears.

"It's all right, Kurt. I'm here. You're safe. You're safe."

Kurt shuddered against Blaine, and then seemed to literally melt into him when Blaine wrapped his arms around him.

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other.

Finally Kurt pulled back slightly and let out a shaky laugh.

"Well, I suppose it's my turn to stand watch for awhile. I'm certainly in no state to sleep now, anyway. I'm sorry I...sort of attacked you like that." He looked a bit sheepish.

Blaine shrugged. "It was one of the more pleasant attacks I've had to fend off in my lifetime," he said with a smile.

"I..." Kurt began, "Do you...think you would be able to sleep outside? I can keep the bugs away." He was still looking a bit shamefaced as he said it, quickly adding "you don't have to, I just-"

"Of course." Blaine gave him a gentle squeeze.

Kurt sat with his back against a wide, smooth tree trunk. Blaine was asleep with his head in Kurt's lap, his lips parted slightly, looking beautiful.

Kurt listened for danger and watched Blaine sleep.

He let the image of Blaine fill his mind, because it was the image of all that was good and noble and sweet and kind and earnest and perfect and beautiful in the world.

He held the image in his mind like a treasure. He tried to lock it in his memory, secure every detail, just as it was right now.

Kurt would have to memorize his eyes again later, and the rest of his body, since Blaine was wrapped in a blanket at present. But this image was worth remembering despite the lack of honey hazel and sculpted limbs. This image was nothing more or less than pure, distilled Blaine.

He only noticed the sunrise because of the way the rosy hue fell across Blaine's features.

Kurt had let Blaine sleep for entirely far too long, and they didn't head out until very late the next morning.

"You should have woken me up sooner," Blaine said grumpily. Kurt gave him an apologetic smile.

"I couldn't. You looked far too lovely and peaceful. And you needed the rest, too."

"You need the rest more than I do," Blaine argued as Kurt stifled a mighty yawn.

That afternoon Blaine convinced Kurt to nap in the carriage while Blaine rode along the path. Kurt had worried out loud about Blaine not having someone to keep watch, and to himself he had silently worried about having another nightmare without the feel and scent of Blaine wrapped around him.

Blaine dismissed the first worry by insisting that Kurt would be his "secret weapon" hiding in the carriage should any trouble arise, and he had smoothly accommodated Kurt's unspoken concern by handing Kurt one of Blaine's dressing gowns to change into and Blaine's blanket to cover himself with, both smelling strongly and pleasantly of Blaine himself.

When he picked up the reins to carry them on their way, Kurt nestled securely in the carriage, Blaine began to sing, strong and clear, choosing soothing lullabies and lilting love ballads, and continued singing until he was fairly certain that Kurt had fallen asleep.

The day was bright and clear, the trees dappling the sunlight along the wide dirt path through the forest. Were it not for Kurt's associations with this route, Blaine thought, and the occasional evidences of bloody battle, it would probably be an incredibly pleasant road to travel.

Lost in thoughts and daydreams (alternating more or less between he and Kurt living together in a flower mound on a dairy farm in Khryslee, and he and Kurt making love against moss-covered rocks under a trickling waterfall – he had very much enjoyed that Sidhe inn in S'aufa), Blaine didn't notice the sound of the approaching carriage until it was quite close.

When it finally registered, he squared his shoulders and did a quick mental check of his weapons. Quiver on his back, dagger in his boot, throwing stars tucked under the perch, bow securely in his lap, and – he eased them on – iron knuckles on his fingers.

Blaine arranged his face into the most innocent, serene and unconcerned expression he could muster, and carried on.

When the carriage approached, he felt an initial wave of relief come over him when he saw two human men at the helm.

His relief receded slowly as he noticed something else attached to the back of the carriage.

An iron cage. Oh wheels.

And it was occupied.

Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat when the carriage pulled abreast of his and slowed to a stop.

Thank God Kurt was hidden from view.

"Afternoon, traveler," said the driver of the other carriage jovially. "Where might you be heading?"

"Z'auli," Blaine answered automatically. "Of a mind to trade some spices."

"Spices, eh?" leered the second man. "You look like a man with coin. Sure we couldn't interest you in some quality sprite flesh? No open market for it this far west, you know."

Blaine stiffened. "I know. I'm...not interested, thank you."

And Blaine's mind was racing. Were these the same men? Could they possibly be? The iron cage wasn't unique; most slave traders had them, as it was the best way to keep a Sidhe docile until there was enough verbena in their bloodstream to suppress them. But on this path, this very path...

What could Blaine do? He had to free the Sidhe in the cage. But how? Should he wake Kurt? But what if they were the same men? Would it strengthen Kurt to see them, make him unleash his full power, or would it put him into a state of shock, giving the men a chance at the upper hand? There could easily be another three or four men in the carriage. It was doubtful that Blaine could take them all alone. But would waking Kurt just give them a third Sidhe to add to the cage?

A third. Because the cage had two.

Two that Blaine recognized.

Because all sound had dulled into background noise around him, though he was fairly certain the men were still talking to him.

His eyes had locked with one of the Sidhe in the cage.

It was Sir.

And with him was Milord.