Blaine rode as hard as he dared all through the night and into the morning. He didn't want to wreck the horses, but he didn't want to get caught either. There was no way to be sure how long it would be until the palace guard was after them, and he wasn't sure how hard Dronyen was planning to pursue them. On the one hand, Dronyen went through quite a lot of Sidhe slaves. He used and abused them until they were either too permanently injured for him to enjoy anymore, or until one day they were simply, discreetly gone.

It wasn't illegal to kill one's property. But it was considered quite crass to draw attention to it.

On the other hand, Blaine had seen how Dronyen looked at Kurt. And he knew that Dronyen had seen something of what Blaine saw in him too. Dronyen didn't just see a pleasing way to pass the time, he saw the fierceness in Kurt's eyes. The pride. The strength. The resolute refusal to be broken.

Dronyen was a true sadist. This Blaine knew.

Many aristocratic men would be shocked to hear what they did to their Sidhe described as rape. Their slaves were simply there for their pleasure, and consent was an utterly alien concept. Of course it was cruel, but most of these men were genuinely ignorant of their own cruelty. Some had probably even convinced themselves that their victims liked the attention.

But Dronyen? Dronyen would probably love to think of it as rape. It would probably thrill him to the core.

He liked hurting his slaves. He liked breaking them.

And the extent of Kurt's bruises that first night? That suggested a particular level of enthusiastic brutality, even for Dronyen.

So it was possible that Dronyen might pursue them pretty hard. It was possible that he might realize just how rare and precious Kurt was, even if it was for the most horribly wrong reasons imaginable.

And then there was Blaine. Dronyen would most likely be shaking with rage at the betrayal and the audacity. A peasant on a scholarship, given a plum position at court, positioned to become Dronyen's next right-hand man. And now this.

Dronyen would probably want to set an example. If Dronyen or any of his men ever found them, they would kill Blaine. Pure and simple.

Or not so pure and simple. In all likelihood, Dronyen would prefer to kill him dirty and complicated.

Dronyen would publicly torture him, and it wouldn't surprise Blaine if it lasted weeks. Blaine had known this from the very start, from the instant he had decided to free Kurt.

And Blaine prayed for one thing and one thing only: that they wouldn't be discovered before the verbena had left Kurt's blood. Because even if they caught and killed Blaine, even if they broke his mind, body and soul into a million jagged pieces, they wouldn't be able to touch Kurt at full power. They wouldn't even get close to him.

Blaine rode until he could barely keep his eyes open, until his stiff muscles were screaming with pain. He followed the course he had set, bringing them along what Blaine hoped would be the least likely route to attract Dronyen's men.

When he finally felt that they had gone far enough, when he finally believed that neither he nor the horses could take any more, he led them off the dirt road they had been following for the last few hours and back into the woods. He found a suitable clearing and eased himself from his perch, his knees buckling as soon as his legs touched the ground.

He allowed himself to simply lie like that. He was pretty sure he even dozed a bit. Sounds and images seemed to flash across the periphery of his consciousness and he couldn't feel his body at all, which at this point was definitely a blessing.

After a slightly indeterminate period of time (An hour? Two? Five?) he roused himself, his head spinning with everything he needed to do.

He was shocked at the sight that greeted him.

It was full daylight, and the horses were grazing on grass and drinking from a stream at the edge of the clearing that Blaine hadn't even noticed at first. The tent he had packed was pitched perfectly between two trees, and that warm, woody smell hadn't just been part of an oddly vivid dream, because Kurt had started a crackling fire. The elf was leaning over a cauldron that was bubbling above it, and an incredibly appetizing smell mingled with the woodsmoke.

And – was that? – Yes. Blaine was wrapped in a blanket.

He sat up slowly, testing his ability to move. He groaned when he attempted a stretch, and Kurt turned around to look at him.

There was a softness in his eyes that Blaine hadn't seen there before. It made his breath catch and his head spin.

"Hi," Blaine managed, grinning wide.

"Hi." Kurt didn't return his smile, but the softness remained. Blaine had broken through, just a little bit.

"You – you didn't have to do all this. I was going to-"

"Keel over and die? Yes you were. I can't believe you pushed the horses that hard. They were barely in better shape than you. Poor things."

Blaine sighed. "I had to get us as far away as possible."

"I understand that. But Blaine, can we please stay here at least until tomorrow? The horses need to rest. You need to rest. You're no good to me if you can't even stand up on your own."

Blaine tried to mute his excitement, reel in his smile. Kurt still looked wary and wound tight and the trust was most definitely not there, but still, he had said...

"So, you're planning on staying with me then?"

Kurt quickly returned his attention to the cauldron. "Yes, for now, if your offer still stands. You're right about the verbena. As weak as I am right now, I wouldn't last a week out here on my own. I would get caught and sold again, and the next one might be even worse than Dronyen."

Blaine felt his features darken with hatred. "I don't think that's possible," he replied.

Kurt was silent for a moment.

"Well, even so. I think I'm quite done with being treated like the property of human men."

Blaine couldn't stop the tears, so he didn't bother to try. "I'm sorry, Kurt," he said brokenly.

Kurt turned to look at him. He gave a slight nod, and turned back to the cauldron.

Kurt had made an incredible stew from dried herbs that Blaine had packed, as well as several varieties of vegetables and roots that he had found in the forest while Blaine had slumbered.

It was delicious, but...

"Why didn't you use any of the dried meat or fish I packed, Kurt? There's plenty."

Kurt looked down into his bowl for a moment, seeming almost afraid, as if he expected to be be slapped.

"No...I didn't mean...it's perfect the way it is. I just wanted to make sure that you realize you can use whatever you need. Help yourself. All of this is as much yours as mine."

Kurt glanced at him uncertainly. "Well. Thank you, Blaine, but I prefer not to eat animal flesh."

Blaine looked at him with surprise. "Oh. But you always..."

"I always ate what I had to in order to stay alive. I've done many unpleasant things in order to stay alive. But my body doesn't digest it well, and to be honest, it pains my heart to eat it. So if it's perfectly all right with you, I think I won't."

"Of course it's all right. I just...I didn't know. I hope I brought enough other things."

Kurt smiled. "I'm very good at finding plants, and there are many things that I can eat that you cannot, so just keep the meat for yourself and we should be fine."

"What kinds of things do you usually eat?" Blaine asked with interest. "When you were – before you were –"

"Enslaved?"

"Yes."

Kurt shrugged. "Leaves, mostly, and flowers. Roots and grasses, fruits on occasion. For example, this-" Kurt plucked a leathery-looking leaf from the shrub beside him - "would suit me just fine." He popped the leaf in his mouth and ate it with relish.

Blaine smiled. "What is your favorite food?"

"Honeysuckle."

Blaine almost clapped his hands with delight. "I knew it! My Grandmother – she told me the Sidhe love honeysuckle. We used to leave baskets of it on the back steps so they would bless our home."

Kurt looked intrigued. "Where exactly are you from?"

"N'auri. It's a small region, on the border of Outer Villalu, near the Eastern Sea."

Kurt nodded. "I've heard of it. There are some nomadic feririars in that area. Not much of a slave trade, as I understand it."

"No. I didn't even know about the slave trade until I was twelve years old. The first Sidhe I ever saw was free."

Kurt smiled at this. Blaine's heart jumped.

"He was beautiful..."

Blaine tried to stop himself. He did. He truly did. But he couldn't.

"...like you."

It was as if iron gates crashed down behind Kurt's eyes, locking him up tight. The softness was gone. That one perfect smile that Blaine had finally managed to coax from him had disappeared without a trace. Kurt wrapped his arms around his torso defensively and clenched his jaw. He turned his head away from Blaine.

Blaine swallowed. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I shouldn't have-"

"What do you want from me, Blaine? Please tell me the truth."

"I just want to help-"

"Stop." Kurt turned back to Blaine, eyes fierce and blazing. " I don't want to hear about how you want to help me, and how you want to be a good person, and how this is some twisted path to redemption for you. I want you to tell me why you are doing this, and I want you to tell me right now."

Blaine stared into that flashing blue, and felt the demand down to his very core. He felt Kurt literally siphoning the truth out of him with his eyes.

"Because I'm in love with you."

Kurt's eyes widened with horror. "Oh, Gods," he managed to whimper.

"I'm sorry! I just...it's true, Kurt. From the first moment I saw you, I..."

"It isn't true."

"Yes it is! Kurt, I-"

"You don't love me, Blaine," he spat, curling his arms around himself more tightly. "You fetishize me. You love the idea of loving me. You barely even know me. You see me as some frail, delicate creature for you to rescue and then, what? I'm supposed to give myself to you? And it's different than Dronyen paying for me and keeping me like a possession because you've managed to romanticize it? To cast yourself as the noble hero in all this?"

"Kurt, No! That's not-"

"Fine," Kurt said, his voice becoming dangerously honeyed, his eyes sparking with malice. "Because I'm not a frail and delicate creature, Blaine. Like I said before, I do what I have to in order to survive. And this is nothing new. I understand. You're doing something for me, so I should give you something in return."

He crawled over to Blaine, began climbing into his lap. Blaine was frozen with shock.

"So, you're the romantic sort. What will it be? Kisses and sweet nothings beneath the moonlight? Lovemaking, slow and gentle and face to face?" Kurt purred.

He leaned in and kissed Blaine on the lips. And the action sent a jolt through Blaine that slammed him back into his body, into the present, into what it was that was actually happening.

Blaine leapt to his feet, sending Kurt tumbling. He touched his fingers to his lips, overwhelmed by the confusion swirling in his gut.

Kurt's lips had felt so wonderful...but the whole situation had felt so, so wrong.

"No," Blaine whispered shakily, looking down at Kurt. "I don't want this, Kurt. I don't."

Kurt stared up at him, a storm of intense emotion exploding behind his eyes.

"Then...then what do you want from me?" Kurt wailed loudly, and he collapsed into tears.

The intensity of his breakdown seemed to surpass even those gut-wrenching sobs Blaine remembered from Kurt's first night at Dronyen's castle. Kurt's face fell into his hands and his elbows fell onto his knees. Blaine crouched back down and very, very gingerly touched Kurt's shoulder. When Kurt flinched, he withdrew his hand quickly.

So Blaine just sat down beside him and waited.

Kurt cried for a long, long time. There was rage in it, and there was pain in it too, but mostly there was deep fear.

Blaine wanted to hold him so, so badly.

When the tears finally began to subside, Kurt looked at Blaine with watery eyes, the question still hanging between them.

"I don't know what to say, Kurt," Blaine sighed. "Maybe what I'm feeling isn't true, I don't know, but I believe it is. And what I want is for you to be free and happy, even if I have to die to make it happen. And what I don't want is for you to kiss me, or...or touch me in any way, unless it's what you want to do. Not because you think you owe me or I expect it, but because you want it. And if you never want it...that's all right too."

Kurt tucked his knees to his chin, looking miserable. "I don't think I can believe you," he said.

Blaine shrugged. "Maybe I haven't earned it yet. I hope I do eventually." He smiled at Kurt. It was a careful smile; Blaine was trying very hard to convey warmth without expectation, and he wasn't sure if he was succeeding.

To his surprise, Kurt actually smiled back. It washed over Blaine like a warm bath.

"I hope so too," Kurt replied softly.

They slept on opposite sides of the tent.

Blaine slept fitfully, and found himself gazing at Kurt between patches of slumber. It was hard to see him in the darkness of the tent, but Blaine could make out the outline of his body, the rise and fall of his chest. He could hear the near-musical soft breathing, and the comfort it gave him was overwhelming.

Blaine didn't realize that he wasn't the only one with open eyes in the tent that night.

He didn't see the elf sneaking gazes of his own when Blaine's breathing evened into sleep. He didn't see the other man tracing the curve of his body, from shoulder to hip, with his eyes.

He didn't see Kurt falling asleep with a smile on his lips when he had finally stared so long that he could no longer keep his eyes open.

And he did not realize that, for the first time in many, many years, Kurt slept without fear.