With the aid of Blaine’s shoulder and the boy’s remarkably strong arms, Kurt stumbled back into his room and slumped on his bed. His breath turned shallow, the morning’s events having held too much excitement for one so sick. Without so much as a word, Blaine dropped to his knees and began removing Kurt’s boots. It was odd to watch the boy perform such a task. The Prince knew their guest was not really a servant, yet he did not have the breath at that moment to stop his actions. When Kurt’s feet were finally bare, Blaine stood.

He said nothing. He did not move to sit. He did not move to attempt any other chores.

He simply remained still until Kurt was able to speak once more.

“You don’t have to wait on me,” Kurt said softly. “You aren’t my servant, not really.”

“You kept me from danger, sir,” Blaine replied. “I owe you a debt.”

“You owe me no such thing. Sit. Here, on the bed.”

Kurt shuffled over, feet dangling over the edge of his large bed as Blaine sat beside him. He moved with such fluidity and grace. Kurt had never seen a person move as if they could bend the air to their will, yet Blaine did it with ease.

“You aren’t my servant,” Kurt said again.

“But if I cannot be such, then what purpose do I have?” Blaine wondered in a whisper. “The King was right.”

“He was not.”

Blaine turned his golden eyes onto the Prince. “I cannot see the point of me.”

“Nor I the point of me,” Kurt stated. “But that does not change the fact that we exist. Every person has a purpose. Farmers exist for a reason, blacksmiths exist for a reason, and magic exists for a reason. We are parts of a whole.”

“I have done nothing worth merit,” Blaine insisted. “I’ve been alive since the dawn of time, yet I cannot even live up to the legend of my name.”

“It is only a name,” Kurt said wisely. “Names do not define us. It is what we do with our life that truly shows our merit. Perhaps you have not yet had the chance to serve your purpose.”

A smile spread across Blaine’s lips and Kurt thought he’d never seen something so lovely. The sun rose and fell with that smile. Kurt was sure of it.

“You will make a great king some day,” Blaine said quietly.

The Prince’s stomach dropped at the words. Such a statement had not been spoken in many long months, not after his death had been foretold. They had known, of course, for years that the young Prince was unwell. But only after his father had exhausted all means had they finally acknowledged the truth.

“I will not,” Kurt whispered in reply. “I will not live to see the day.”

“There is always hope.”

“There is no more to be found,” the Prince stated, crawling under his bedcovers in a most undignified manner. “My father might’ve thought hope rested in you, but he is blind when it comes to me. He cannot accept the fact that I am to die, and very soon at that.”

Looking away as Kurt settled himself in bed, Blaine’s expression became very somber.

“How soon, sir?”

“The physicians have given me six months at the most,” Kurt said. “I’m sure six months seems like the blink of an eye to someone like you. But it is my life and it is all I have left. So I’ll thank you not to speak of hope when I’m walking the very thin line between this world and the next.”

“My apologies,” Blaine said, standing. “I’ll leave you in peace.”

Just as he rounded Kurt’s bed in an effort to leave, Blaine stopped and began looking about the room in confusion. Kurt nearly snorted, for he knew the boy’s troubles.

He had no idea where to go or what to do.

“I didn’t say you should leave,” Kurt finally said, taking pity on him. “I simply do not wish to discuss my deteriorating health.”

“If it pleases you, sir.”

“It does,” Kurt confirmed.

“I…am unsure what I should do,” Blaine admitted. “If I am not your servant, what tasks will I undertake to pass the time?”

Truth be told, the Prince wasn’t quite sure how to answer the question. He knew he needed to educate Blaine on the world with which he was so unaccustomed, but that was hardly going to take all day. Perhaps he should make him a servant after all? No, that would be unkind, especially after he had just made the opposite statement.

“Will you read to me?” Kurt asked. “If – if the language has not changed by much, of course. I expect it should still be similar. If we haven’t confused you with our speech as of yet, I think you will do well.”

“I awakened with such knowledge,” Blaine explained, plucking a book off of Kurt’s bedside table and seating himself in a chair near the bed.

“How, though?”

“I cannot say, sir. Perhaps it is something to do with being of magical origin.”

“Mmm,” Kurt hummed in what he hoped was understanding, settling into his pillows. Never mind that he was not dressed for bed, his eyes were too heavy and his body was too weak to bother with such a task.

As Blaine began to read, Kurt drifted into sleep with the thought that Blaine’s voice was probably the most pleasing sound to ever reach his ears.

It was certainly a shame he could not sing.

The Prince slept soundly for several hours, only waking when the sun was decidedly higher in the sky. When he cracked open his bleary eyes, he caught sight of something unexpected.

Blaine still sat in his chair, having set the book aside. He had plucked a deadened rose from the vase on Kurt’s bedside table. In his palm, he held the flower so gently, almost as if were a delicate soul.

And when he breathed upon it, the rose bloomed once more.

“I thought you told my father you possessed no magic,” Kurt spoke weakly.

“I told him I possessed no healing magic,” Blaine answered, not at all surprised to see Kurt awake. “And I spoke the truth.”

“But you do have magic,” Kurt stated, nodding to the pretty flower.

“Only in this respect, I fear. I breathe flowers back to life but that is all I can do.” Blaine raised his gaze to peer at the Prince. “I am not the sorcerer your father wished for.”

Blaine set the rose on the bedside table, staring at it blankly with a hollow gaze. “It is strange,” he began, “to do magic in front of someone who is not a Keeper. While I slept five hundred years, I remember the Days of Darkness as if they were yesterday.”

“Those days are long gone,” Kurt reminded. “It’s been four centuries since magic was feared. Magic is welcome in this era, revered even. It has taken quite a long time for the magical population to rebuild.”

“Strange, indeed,” Blaine remarked.

“Why do you think so?” Kurt asked, pushing himself to sit up against his pillows. “I’d have thought you’d be happy at the prospect.”

“I am happy for my sake, of course. But there was a reason magic was so feared, sir.”

“In my history lessons, we were taught that people feared it because they didn’t understand,” Kurt said. “My teacher told me that the power was simply too great for mere humans to grasp, and that they feared it in their ignorance.”

“That is true,” Blaine said with a nod, “in part.”

“There’s another reason?”

Blaine’s expression grew fraught with anxiety, his brow knitting together in earnest as he explained. “It is true that people feared such power as they could not understand it in its entirety. But they feared it because, back then, the Days of Darkness had another meaning. To you, it means a world where magic was suppressed and those possessing it were drowned and often beaten. To those who lived at that period in time, it meant dark magic. Sorcerers and witches and seers who used their powers for evil, not for good, as I believe magic is meant to be used.”

“What-” Kurt swallowed his fear, “what kind of dark magic?”

“The worst possible kind,” Blaine stated, his tone becoming darker with the memories. “I saw…horrible things, sir. Atrocities, more like. I’m not sure I should say anymore.”

“But this – we’ve never heard these tales,” Kurt argued. “In all my years of lessons, we were never taught such things. How can it be true?”

“It’s been five hundred years,” Blaine attempted to explain. “Perhaps the records describing such details were lost.”

“Historical records are sacred,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “There’s no way anyone would have simply lost them in time.”

“Then I would assume a very powerful sorcerer had the incidents stricken from the records. You said magic has been perfectly legal for four hundred years? I should say somewhere, within the first hundred years of my sleep, someone destroyed the truth of the Days of Darkness.”

“But why would they do that?” Kurt asked. “It makes no sense.”

“To preserve the reputation of magic,” Blaine said. “So that future generations would have no reason to fear it, and future kingdoms may live in peace without attacking any other magical beings.”

“Wouldn’t there still be stories?” Kurt wondered. “Even if there was no written evidence, wouldn’t the tales be passed down from generation to generation?”

“Five hundred years is a long time,” Blaine stated softly. “I’m sure there have been wars and treaties and various other incidents that make far better stories than legends of evil sorcerers.”

“Hm. Well, perhaps now that we have you, we can set the records to rights.”

Blaine’s head shot up so quickly at the statement that Kurt thought he might have broken his neck in the process. His golden eyes became dark and grew wide with fear.

“I cannot, sir. I – no, I cannot do such a thing.”

“But historical truth is valuable,” Kurt disputed. “We must-”

“It may be truth, but it is not wise to reveal it. The Days of Darkness lasted decades while I was awake and I’m sure they continued for many more after I was put to sleep. If it took a century to change a school of thought, I will not single-handedly undo such progress. I won’t – I cannot, sir. I cannot return to such a way of life. I will not destroy the safety and security of magical beings in this world. I will not see them hunted as I, myself, was for many long years. I am grateful to you for keeping me out of the towns and away from a place that may not accept me, and I owe you a debt, no doubt. But I will not repay it in this way.”

The Prince sat in silence, for it was the most he had ever heard Blaine speak in a single discussion. What’s more, he hadn’t heard him speak with so much passion until now. When his father’s knights had arrived with the boy in tow, Blaine had seemed simple or perhaps mute. He had wise eyes and a young soul, Kurt could sense that. But he had not been able to sense these battle scars, these wounds so deep in his heart. They were still fresh and bleeding and while Blaine might be immortal, he had one trait that remarked upon his humanity without question:

He feared for his life.

In that respect, he was far more human than Kurt ever would be.

“My – my apologies,” Kurt whispered, lowering his head in a weak bow. “I did not realize. I should have thought before speaking. I – I often have that problem, you see? I never quite know when to keep my mouth shut.”

He did not speak further, nor did he lift his head until he felt the edge of his bed dip, signaling Blaine’s presence at his side. When he glanced up through his lashes, he could see that the darkness in Blaine’s eyes had vanished. Instead, the boy looked at peace once more.

“No apologies need be made,” Blaine said softly, reaching for the Prince’s hand atop his bedcovers. When their fingers laced together, Kurt felt the ever-present ache in his bones reside almost immediately, though he could not explain why or how. It was as if Blaine’s mere presence eased his ailing body. “You are the Prince. You have the right to speak your mind. I am the one who should watch my words.”

“Not – not here,” Kurt said with a shake of his head. “Not when you’re with me. Out there, perhaps, where they only know you as a servant, but not here.”

With a smile, Blaine lifted his free hand and brushed Kurt’s hair away from his forehead.

“I think I shall like it here with you,” he whispered. “I think I shall like it very much.”