"Kurt," a voice flitted in from the distance, as if from under water. "Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt opened his eyes slowly and the first thing he saw was a set of golden orbs, laced in worry and concern. Blaine.

He pushed himself up, feeling a little dizzy, then looked around him. They were in a green field. A couple of trees lined the edges, small ferns in corners. There was a soft breeze coming through the air, dancing with the tree leaves and the blades of grass. Kurt's mind came slowly back into focus. They were in Idris.

"What are you doing?" he asked, jerking a hand back, because Blaine had tugged his arm forward.

"I thought you might need an iratze," he replied, from where he kneeled next to him in the grass. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay, I'm sorry," Kurt shook his head and it was still hurting a bit. "I didn't mean to snap, I was just a little confused. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

Blaine looked a little worried. His eyes were wide and dark, his mouth a tight, thin line.

"I'm fine," he said and Kurt could tell he had forced the smile that followed.

Blaine pushed a hand forward and offered it to Kurt. He took it and the contact sent goosebumps all along his skin. Blaine pulled him up with him and they brushed tiny blades of green, green grass off of their clothes. It was a beautiful day. The sky was a bright, vibrant blue, the sun a ball of light in the centre. There wasn't a cloud in sight.

"So, we never really talked about this," Blaine said, looking uneasy. "But do you have some place to go?"

Kurt stared at him. Stupidly, he hadn't thought about. He could go stay at his old place, maybe, if a new family hadn't moved in. Beyond that he had no idea. It hit him then that he and Blaine would be going their separate ways and although they'd only known each other for a very short time, it sort of hurt to think that they wouldn't be spending any time together from now on.

"It never even crossed my mind," Kurt told him, truthfully.

"I could talk to my dad, I guess. You could stay with us."

The idea of having to stay at the Anderson's was not appealing in the least to Kurt. They would treat him as a lesser person because of the current situation of his family. Plus, Blaine made them sound sort of intimidating.

"I think I'll go see if anyone is staying at our old place," Kurt said, thoughtfully.

Blaine appeared crestfallen for a short couple of seconds, then smiled.

"Alright."

They went to Kurt's old house first. It felt good to be home, but strange, too, because he wasn't used to being there without his father. They had lived there together for practically Kurt's entire life. Luckily, no one was living there. It looked very much the same as it had the day they'd left.

"Nice place," Blaine muttered, once they had reached the front door.

The Hummel Manor lay in the centre of a small field. It was a small cottage-style house, with a thatched roof and pale brick work. The windows were painted in a vibrant red. Kurt remembered when he and his dad had painted them. They had ended up covered in red paint. He smiled a little at the memory, then frowned because all of that was gone now. For good.

Kurt opened the door using an access rune and they stepped inside. The house was dusty and cold, but the furniture had been left exactly as it had been before they had left. It smelled old and familiar, like books and tea and home. 

Kurt headed straight for the small study his dad had owned. Blaine followed. He reached inside the drawer of the small, wooden desk and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He reached for a pen and wiped the dust off on his thighs, cringing at the greyish lines it left on his pants. He wrote a small note on the top of the page.

Dad, it's Kurt. I'm fine. Made it to Idris, went with a friend. I know you don't want me to be here, but I need to be. For me. I love you.

He re-read it a couple of times, aware of Blaine peering over his shoulder like a curious puppy, then drew his stele out of his pocket. He began tracing a fire rune over the bottom of the thin paper. He let it go as the flames consumed the entire thing, inch by inch, until it went up in small, shooting cinders and disappeared into thin air, leaving miniscule pieces of dark debris behind.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked again, in an almost whisper. 

Kurt looked up at him and nodded once. 

"I guess this is it, then," Kurt said, feeling miserable.

"I guess so," Blaine uttered, looking as miserable as Kurt felt. "I'll see you during the war, though."

"What if there is no war?" Kurt said and Blaine twisted his face in confusion. "We didn't think of that, but what if there is none? What if Valentine just takes power without a fight?"

"Then we came here for nothing."

Kurt's breath caught a little. He felt dizzy again.

"Not for nothing," he said, quietly, thinking about how he never would have gotten to know Blaine had it not been for this trip.

"Yeah," Blaine half smiled. "Not for nothing."

They shared a smile for a couple of heart beats, then Blaine spoke up.

"If there is a war, though," he said. "I'll see you during that."

Kurt simply nodded.

"I should go see my dad," Blaine said, smile fading completely.

"Yeah, you should."

"Tell me a quote for good luck," Blaine chuckled a little, maple syrup coloured eyes level with Kurt's. Kurt thought he could have spent an entire eternity simply staring into those eyes and he would never be bored for one moment.

"'All of us have bad luck and good luck. The man who persists through the bad luck - who keeps right on going - is the man who is there when the good luck comes - and is ready to receive it,'" Kurt said, unable to conceal the slight quiver in his voice.

"I can't even pretend to guess right now," Blaine smiled, sadly.

"Robert Collier," Kurt provided and Blaine nodded, a sign that he had no idea who Robert Collier was.

They spent another couple of minutes in silence, just listening to the sounds of one another's breathing, to the soft breeze sifting through the air outside, to the slight rustle of the leaves in the trees.

"I'll come back," Blaine said, raising his eyes to Kurt's again. "After I've spoken to my father. I'll tell you how it went. If you want me to."

"Of course, I want you to," Kurt smiled, slightly.

"Okay," Blaine nodded. "Okay, good."

He stood there for another while and Kurt could see the fear in his eyes, in his body language, in the way his chest was rising and falling so quickly.

"Blaine," Kurt said and Blaine looked up quickly. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"You—you'd do that?"

"You only had to ask," Kurt shrugged.

Blaine's mouth twisted into a broad smile and he moved forward and flung his arms around Kurt, as if on instinct.

Kurt was taken aback, but quickly allowed himself to bask in the warmth of the other boy's embrace. He didn't know what it meant, or if it even meant anything, other than that Blaine was grateful and that they were both a little emotional and afraid. Either way, it was nice having him there and he had been very reluctant to let go, once Blaine had begun to draw himself away from him.

"Thank you," he whispered and his eyes were shining.

"You can do it, you know," Kurt said, encouragingly.

Blaine felt jittery and nervous as he and Kurt stood on Angel Square, outside the Accord's Hall, which was apparently where his father was. For once, he didn't care that he looked like a bag of nerves and a blubbering idiot in Kurt's presence, because he was too damned afraid of how it was going to go.

"You can do it," Kurt said, again, his glistening blue eyes level with Blaine's.

Blaine took comfort in Kurt's eyes, studying the colours and the various swirls and hues of light flushing through them. Somehow, it made him feel better.

"I can do it," he muttered, nodding.

"I'll wait right here."

Blaine nodded.

"Thank you," he said, giving Kurt a weak, but hopefully convincing smile, before pushing the large white doors open and walking inside, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The Hall was completely full, some of the Shadowhunters familiar to Blaine some not. It seemed as if they had been debating before he walked in, all shouting and arguing. Some people turned to look at him the second he stepped through the doors, but then continued talking and fighting. His father stood alongside Blaine's uncle Aldertree and Consul Malachi. The Hall was all pillars, leading up to a set of steps which gave way onto a dais. Blaine lifted his chin and braced himself, as he walked towards his father, who was looking at him as if he had seen a ghost.

"Blaine!" his father said, in surprise. "What on earth are you doing here? We've been worried sick! Your aunt sent word that you had disappeared some days ago, we had no idea where you were! Your mother has been worried sick!"

Blaine glanced across the hall and through the crowds, his eyes seeking out his mother's dark hair. He spotted her standing next to Patrick Penhallow, laughing wildly. Yeah, she looked real worried.

"Father, I had to come," he spoke up, voice catching. He cleared his throat then went on, ignoring the unhappy glares his father and uncle were sending him. "I can't stay in Ohio alongside mundanes, knowing there may very well be a war occurring here. I'm eighteen years old. I'm an adult, I have a right to fight, should I so wish. In fact, I am obligated to fight. I needed to be here. Not just for the Clave, but for me."

His father remained unmoved. He stared down at his son, with a look of disapproval on his face. Blaine wasn't that phased. He could never please his parents, how ever hard he tried.

"You're a child, Blaine."

He felt his blood boiling, fingers curling and pressing against the insides of his palms. It would do him no good to have an outburst here. He took a few breaths, grounding himself, envisaging a set of bright, serene blue eyes and he was calmer.

"You were safe in Ohio," his father said, dark eyes burning through him. Blaine had inherited his mother's eyes. His father's were dark, harsh and intimidating. "I demand you get yourself back there in whatever mode of transport you used to get here."

"No."

"What?"

"I can't go back there, not now," Blaine said, voice choked. "I'm here now. The day is almost upon us. It could happen at any moment. I hear them, father," he gestured to the arguing crowds. "I know exactly what has happened and what is likely to happen. I have to stand alongside my people and fight. I can help—"

"No," Blaine's father said, sternly. "You can't."

Blaine thumping heart dropped for a split second, his mouth dry.

"Y—yes, I can, I can—"

"No, Blaine," he said, gravely. "You can't. You're not strong enough, in fact, you're weak. You simply don't have the skills or capability of fighting in a war as important and as dangerous as this one. You are a stay at home Shadowhunter. Yes, a Ravener here and there, maybe a couple of Forsaken, but that's all you'll ever defeat. And some day, even that will be a hard task. You can't do a thing Blaine, nothing useful anyway."

"You're a woman Shadowhunter, really, Blaine," Blaine's uncle spoke next to his father. "Yes, you are a male in most senses, but you haven't got the strength or the special techniques required to be a strong, successful Shadowhunter. I suspect a lifetime as a tutor is in your future."

Blaine felt sick to his stomach. He looked to his father to defend him, but he only nodded in agreement. He stood there, mouth hanging open for another few minutes, then raised his eyes to his father's again and didn't drop his gaze as he spoke.

"You were never a father to me. You were never there when I needed you. You don't even know me," he spat out, heart racing wildly in his chest. "You're a useless parent and I hate you."

He turned around and stormed out the door and only when he was outside, away from all those Shadowhunters, did he allow himself to slink to the ground and cry his heart out.