Despite being born and raised during war time Blaine had never needed to fight for his life let alone kill. He had never wanted to be the one to take a life, having already seen so many die. As he stood in the village square, the town being rapidly consumed and destroyed around him, he ran at the approaching figures, resisting the urge to slam his eyes shut as the metal of his blade sunk into their torso, blood dripping down to the hilt. Hed never wanted or needed to take a life but that didnt mean he couldnt do it. He kept his eyes open, barely flinching as blood spattered his cheek as the warlock coughed and then slipped away. He yanked his sword free and kept going. After the third body that fell to the ground the guilt started to fade, instinct starting to take over as fire raged around them. The screaming, the sound of his own blade whistling through the air, tearing through flesh and cartilage and bone was drowned out by the roar in his veins. He felt as if he were burning, his full form ripping and shredding at his insides, trapped and desperate to get out.

He didnt dare attack the dragons, their full forms too powerful for him to bring down alone, even if he had wanted to. The warlocks, however, had clearly underestimated him. There were only around a dozen of them, thinking that he was the weakest of his clan, that trapped in his half form it would be easy to bring him down. They were wrong. Blaine wasnt as weak as they or even he had anticipated. If he hadnt had been so preoccupied by the threat they posed to him and to Kurt and his village he almost wouldve smiled. Blaine was agile in his half form so he more often than not ducked and weaved away from attacks like climbing vines and flying stone.

Surviving purely on instinct, adrenaline and skill he cut them down one by one until there was a single warlock left. Hed been fighting for hours without knowing it, feeling no pain as he rounded on him. Something had snapped in the dragons he was trying to control and they quickly began to transform, withering into their half forms and collapsing, their strength waning, leaving them defenceless. Blaine advanced on the lone warlock, chest heaving as the fire and smoke began to dissipate as the sky turned grey. He pressed his blood wet blade to the base of his throat. "Send a message to your King." He spat. "This village and all those like it are now under my protection. If he wants a war, a war hell have. You will lose." And all shall burn. The Morrigans words echoed in his head as the warlock stared at him with cold, dead eyes before fleeing into the forest, the iron chains hed held falling to the ground with a dissonant crash.

Silence descended like the ash and cinders that clouded the air and Blaine felt his insides lurch. All the fight rushed out of him and his sword slipped from his hands and scraped across the solid stone beneath his suddenly unsteady feet. He could see clearly now, houses burnt to the ground, the street littered with bodies and severed limbs, warlocks dead and scattered at his feet, his own kind lying shackled and lifeless in the distance. He felt it drip from him, looked down at his hands and saw the still warm liquid caressing his skin, unsure how much of it was his own. He realised then that there was a difference between doing what you have to and losing all control. He fell to his knees and vomited, the bile mixing with the blood surrounding him. He slumped over onto his side, uncaring if blood soaked him through. The sun was the last thing he saw before blackness overcame him.

.oO0Oo.

Kurt didnt leave the cottage until everything had been silent for a long time. He and his father had spent the night not daring to go outside and instead taking in the injured and those who had had to flee from their homes. Kurt had tried to leave, follow Blaine into the flames but his father held him back, surprisingly strong as Kurt thrashed and cried and screamed in his arms. Eventually he grew quiet and could do nothing but try not to listen to the roars and screams that pierced the night. He spent his time tending to wounds and shaking, itching to pull back the drapes and see if Blaine was okay but at the same not daring to, fearing that it would be too late, that he would see something he wouldnt be able to live with. When dawn broke and despite the horror of the night he could hear bids distantly singing he could wait no longer. Burt followed him out, the rickety old door slamming shut behind them both.

Tears blurred his vision do that the majority of what he could see was just red and black. Every time he blinked he saw a little more, felt a little more sick as piece by piece the image before him slid into focus. Blaine did this, gentle, honourable, kind Blaine was capable of all this. He knew that it couldve been them, that without Blaine the warlocks wouldve ripped through everyone until theyd found himself or Blaine. ‘Kill or be killed Blaine had said was the warlocks mentality and it appeared that Blaine had been forced to think and act accordingly. "Blaine." He gasped, choking on his sobs and Burts hand found his shoulder. He turned, seeing his own horror reflected in his fathers eyes. He turned back slipping away from his touch.

He scoured the square looking for Blaine until he recognised him, slumped, bloodied and cut and bruised at the base of the fountain at its centre. Kurt thought for a moment he was dead until he heard him whisper his name. He knew that his father was wary of Blaine now, itching to tell Kurt to stay away from him but Kurt couldnt help but crouch beside him and brush the matted curls from his forehead. "Kurt." He choked out, eyes hazy staring up at the sun. "My people Kurt go- go - help."

Kurt ran to where Blaine had weakly pointed. He checked the pulse of each dragon that lay unconscious. He felt nothing.