Blaine had waited in his room, one hand on Cat, one gripping the hilt of the sword with white knuckles. While he waited, he alternated between a state of cool confidence, and complete unease. He had to opportunity to make things good in his family, but he needed to play a role he didn't know and didn't know that he wanted to know. He didn't even know if he would be allowed to live in order to spy on the enemy. This could be his last few hours and it crossed his mind that he hadn't even thought of what he wanted to accomplish in life. In all his books the hero had a lofty goal. He never had a goal except for survival.

He'd never even heard of the Hummel Army before all this, so how was he supposed to know what to expect? If they defeated his father, well, at least pushed his father into hiding for now, then they must be warriors of the highest quality. Fearsome, and terrifying. How was he supposed to face that?

While Blaine waited, he contemplated too how he might approach them. He certainly couldn't be found in his bed sitting and waiting. If they had decided to kill him, then he didn't want to die in his room, his blood all over Cat. He also couldn't just stroll out and announce that here he was, the not-so-great Blaine Anderson. He tossed around different scenarios and ideas in his head, occasionally letting a tear fall when he remembered how truly alone he now was.

He was still considering how he might present himself when he heard yelling in the distance, over the wall. It was coming closer and with it came the blast of trumpets and cheers. Perhaps Dalton was victorious after all and the people were celebrating? Surely his father had succeeded in commanding a last push against the enemy and they were returning. He went to his window and watched and waited. He wouldn't have to be a spy after all.

Then a flash of blonde hair below went to the gate controls along with a few other bodies in unfamiliar black armour. They opened the gates to the cheering and trumpets and in came a hoard of bodies, most clad in the same black armor. Several flags were carried, which Blaine was unable to see the details of, but could tell they were red and white. One figure moved in front of the crowd that had filled up the courtyard and still extended past the gate. Blaine watched as he threw his hands up in the air and spoke to the crowd of success and liberation, the crowd cheering in response.

Blaine blanched and backed away from the window. They had been invaded. Those black armored soldiers below were here to take over Westerville and the empire. He would die or he would spy.

Quickly, he turned and pulled Cat off the bed with one hand, who gave him a short hiss of displeasure. He opened the clothing trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled his clothes out with the other. Once the trunk was empty he put Cat into it and shut the top over her. He used the sword to poke a couple holes in the back of the trunk, out of sight and then kicked his clothing under the bed.

He didn't have much to protect, but he wasn't going to risk losing Cat.

Blaine's ears perked then as he heard footsteps out in the hall. He could hear the victory speech still being given outside his window, so it couldn't be one of the Hummel army. The thought struck him that maybe Cooper had come back for him at the last minute and they could escape through one of the passages that only Cooper and his father were privy to knowing about.

He tiptoed to the door and peeked out. Mere meters from him was black armor and he felt all hope in him die. Cooper hadn't come back. He had been abandoned here after all. Where he had once had hope, anger began to flood him. He hadn't had much before, but at least he knew what to expect, how to survive. Now he had nothing. He might never see his sisters at all again. He had at least had the ability to enjoy their company before they were married off before all this.

His grip on the sword got tighter and he slowly opened the door and crossed the hall, pressing the tip of his sword into the space between the shoulder and armor plates on this intruder. All his anger pointing through the sword at this invader, who hissed as he realized he had been caught.

"Drop your sword, raise your arms, turn around." Blaine commanded, trying to keep his breath under control as he spoke. Be the prince you should be he reminded himself.

The invader took a moment but then seemed to understand as he undid the belt holding his sword and let it drop to the floor. His hands lifted up aside his head and he began to turn. Blaine very carefully traced the tip of his sword along the edges of the armor plating while the invader turned to ensure he had a point on him at all times.

As the invader faced him, a chuckle began to escape his dirt covered lips. In fact, aside from the odd place where dirt had been wiped away, the man was entirely covered with dirt. The stink was nearly unbearable too.

Blaine's anger flared again, tears forming in his eyes, "What's so funny?!" He pressed his sword forward a little more and his stomach seemed to turn when he heard the tear of fabric under it - at least he hoped it was fabric. While Blaine had been taught formal sword fighting, he had never drawn blood. The thought made him queasy.

The man's smirk dropped, and aside from his eyes, his bright blue-green eyes, Blaine could read nothing from him. It was hard to make out any features on the man in front of him. His hair had been slicked back under the dirt, and he was a couple inches taller than Blaine.

"What are you doing here?! Who are you?!" Blaine shook as he spoke, not used to being so forceful, authoritative. Perhaps he had more of his father in him than he let himself know.

The man spoke softly, with a light voice that Blaine certainly wasn't expecting from a battle hardened warrior of the Hummel army, "I'm Kurt. I'm part of the Hummel army. We've taken Westerville. You need to understand that the army is in the courtyard and nothing will be served by killing me."

"I'm dead either way." Blaine responded without thinking, "You'll kill me because I'm part of the royal family and my father will kill me for refusing to support him."

"We won't kill you. That's not what we do. However if you do kill me I can't account for what my family might do to avenge me and I don't think you've ever killed anyone before. I don't think it's something you want to do."

Blaine bit his lip and considered. They had defeated the Dalton army, how could this man in front of him not be a heartless killer? Why wouldn't they kill him? But if he did kill this man, he was definitely dead when the rest of the army found him. Maybe his best chance was surrender.

Blaine was still thinking when the invader - Kurt - spoke up. "What's your name?"

Blaine couldn't kill him. In the end, he was the weakling his father insisted he was. If there was any shot of staying alive, it meant giving up. He dropped his sword and the the weakness in his stomach seemed to take over his whole body at that point. Blaine dropped to the floor and shamefully hid his face in his hands. "Blaine... I'm Blaine Anderson."

The invader quietly considered the response and Blaine waited for him to pick up his sword and cut him through. At least it would be quick... he hoped. They wouldn't prolong this with torture would they?

Instead a hand was offered to him. A filthy hand that was streaked in red - blood? "Well then. I think we'll be needing to speak with you."

Blaine considered not taking the hand, how much of his peoples' blood was on this man? Was this a ruse of some kind designed to embarrass him further? Kurt seemed to pick up on his hesitation and pulled his hand back.

At that point the noise of running was heard and as Blaine uncovered his eyes to look down the hall, he noted they had been joined by two more in the black armor. Both were taller than he was, both also filthy - covered in dirt and death.

"Kurt! Are you alright?" The taller invader stopped and drew his sword as he approached.

The other one with a black streak of hair in the midst of his own filthiness came up behind Blaine, clenching a dagger in his hand, "Who is this?"

Kurt held up his palm, "He's surrendered himself. This is Blaine Anderson."

Instead of relaxing, the two seemed to tense up more, "The tower prince?" the taller one asked, "Was he trying to kill you?"

Blaine flinched, uncomfortable with how close these two were getting. If they were going to kill him though, best not to show too much fear. Die with dignity, just like the heroes in your books. Don't cry... don't cry.

"Yes, and he didn't, so back off." Kurt took a step forward, and in doing so, the other two took a step back and Blaine suddenly felt able to take a breath.

Kurt kneeled down in front of Blaine and tried to look him in the eyes, which Blaine avoided, turning his head down and away. If he cried now, it couldn't be in front of the enemy. He had to keep his senses.

"Blaine. We need to speak with you. Our army has taken over Westerville and we need to know where you stand."

Blaine shivered and looked down at the sword beside him he had dropped. He couldn't go through with this. He had no training in being subversive and deceptive. That was part of the problem, he too often spoke without thinking. They would find out he was working for his family and kill him.

In one quick movement he reached out and grabbed his sword, followed by a sharp pain against the back of his head and Blaine felt himself fade to darkness.

When he awoke it was in small dark cell. His senses were flooded with the stench of urine, feces, and vomit, which made him turn over in the small cot he was in and vomit onto the dirt floor.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, noting that the stench off one of those invaders was perfume compared to this.

The cell Blaine was in was barely bigger than his wardrobe. Metal bars encircled him and there was room for a small cot, a piss bucket, and a little space to stand. The light of a candle flickered by a door outside of the cell.

"Why did you go for your sword after you surrendered?" a familiar voice spoke in the darkness and he turned his head toward it. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he was able to make out Kurt, sitting on a bench across from the cell he was in.

"I... I..." Blaine hadn't been able to able to kill himself. For one short moment before he had blacked out he thought he might have just been that quick. "They were going to kill me. I thought I'd save them the trouble and do it myself."

Kurt turned his head away so Blaine couldn't see his eyes. Those eyes which just seemed to glow like a candle in this darkness. In his home of amber, the only time he'd seen such eyes was in Jeff, who up until this point he considered exotic because of them.

"They thought you were going to stab me with that sword. That's why Noah knocked you out with the hilt of his dagger. You're lucky they didn't do more."

Oh. Blaine shook his head, "No. I couldn't do it... you said so yourself. I couldn't kill you."

Kurt stood up then and walked to the side of the cell. Blaine was able to see that while Kurt hadn't completely cleaned up, that he had managed to wash his face. This man before him had beautiful pale skin and pale pink lips that looked absolutely delicate to the touch. Jeff was officially replaced as the most exotic human Blaine had ever encountered now.

"I can't let you out. I don't have the key. I do believe you however. I'm trained for negotiation and can tell such things." Kurt's face was stony. If he felt anything about what he was saying, one way or the other, he wasn't letting it show. Technically Blaine hadn't lied about taking the sword to end his own life anyhow, but it had more to do with the futility he felt at that point and less to do with the threat of the other invaders.

"Thank you..." Blaine flushed, looking at the meager quarters he had been relegated to. Suddenly his entrapment in his room all the time didn't seem so terrible. "What... what are you going to do with me?"

Kurt clasped his hands behind his back, "That will be for Marshal Hummel to decide. I will advise him however. I would like to ask you a few questions before I speak to him however."

Blaine nodded. This was his best shot right now at getting into a position that allowed him to help his family, help Cooper. "Of course. I'll respond to the best of my ability."

Kurt's mouth turned up at once side, seemingly amused by that response. "Alright then. Why were you the only member of the royal family here?"

Blaine grimaced. If Kurt was really good at detecting truth and lies he had to be careful with what he said. "My family... they don't approve of me. I'm the only son, aside from the heir Cooper, who stays in Westerville. It's because my father doesn't want anyone to see me. I embarrass him. I embarrass the family. I speak my mind too much and it's unwanted." Blaine pauses, "I didn't even know they had fled, until I searched for then later. I was left behind."

Kurt watched his face the entire time. It isn't a lie, but it does omit pieces of the truth, however Kurt seems to accept that and continues the questioning, "Why didn't you try to catch up with them or find them?"

Blaine shook his head, "I didn't know where they went or where they would have gone. There was no point in following. I've never left the castle."

Kurt's eyes widen at that and Blaine worries for just a moment that he's said something that could get him into trouble. But then Kurt's face resumes its hard expression and continues, "So you have no idea where they might be or might be going to?"

"No.. my father would only speak to me if he had something caustic to say. Definitely not to tell me anything of importance." That part is definitely true.

Kurt nods, considering this, "Can I ask... why you embarrass them? What could you possibly say that offends them so much?"

Blaine sighs and leans back on the cot. "I don't agree with how my father operates. I'm not included in political decision making, but I overhear things of course. I don't think his method of rapid expansion is effective for maintaining the food supplies and successfully integrating new lands into Dalton. And of course, I'm gay."

A shake of his head shows that Kurt is in disbelief, "You're gay? Anderson... your father, is notorious for homophobic policies and he has a gay son?!"

Blaine tilts his head to the side just slightly and looks up at Kurt. Didn't what he say make sense?

Kurt exhales and, seeing he won't be getting a reply to that, continues speaking, "Well I'll talk to the Marshal and see what I can do. In the meantime you'll have to make due down here in your castle's dungeon."

So that's where he is. Blaine has never been allowed into the dungeon's before, and thank goodness.

Kurt turns to the door and begins to walk off when a thought flashes through Blaine's mind and he calls out after him, "Wait!"

Kurt pauses and looks back.

"Can you... can you make sure my cat is alright?"

Kurt's face positively lights up and he returns to Blaine's cell to get the details on how to find and care for Cat.