There was no long story to tell, he'd already told them everything about Blaine. He'd already gone over the whirlwind from fairytale to reality to sheer impossibility, and explaining the night of the ball became infinitely easier the moment he heard the sound of his father's voice.

Burt knew what was coming before he'd even finished, but he didn't cut him off. He gave tiny grunts of acknowledgement as Kurt spoke, soaking it all in, struggling to believe - but believing all the same. He knew his son.

Kurt's voice changed the closer he got to saying what he knew he had to, and it made Burt's heart tighten painfully in his chest. Kurt had been an adult for a long time now. But fifteen or fifty, he'd always be his boy.

And goodbye was never easy.

He started talking about the next flight to New York.

Kurt could hear him moving around frantically, probably looking for something to pack, and couldn't keep his voice from shaking as he tried to soothe him.

Dad, there isn't any time.

Kurt could hear Burt's voice breaking when he said I love you, and I'm so proud of you.

He laughed against the hot, hollow feeling in his throat when Burt realised aloud that Kurt wasn't just getting married, he was becoming a king. You don't do nothing by halves, do ya kid?

He could hear Carole's tears when she said she was so proud, too. She gushed at him in tiny, hiccup-crying sounds that she fought hard to control, and he listened carefully, trying to catch her words between the noises.

Kurt asked her to take care of his dad for him, and Finn, and she agreed in an instant. She gushed at him in awed, whisper-soft tones, that she knew he would be a great king.

With a sad smile, he told her his dad may have taught him how to be the man he was, but she's the one who taught him the most important lesson, considering where he was going.

Step-mothers really aren't so bad.

She laughed to keep from crying harder, and held on to her husband as they both said goodbye.

When Kurt put down the phone, Blaine held him, circling both arms around Kurt's waist as the tears rushed over his cheeks. He settled against Blaine's chest, warm and ever-present. Something to rest against, something to hold on to.

Blaine's voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Kurt, they're your family. I can't ask you to leave them, I-"

"Stop," Kurt said.

He didn't need to say anything more.

Midnight was coming.

Blaine had suggested they change back into their suits from the ball, but Kurt had swayed against it, offering up Blaine's original tunic with a silent nod.

It would barely register for Sebastian, seeing Blaine as he always had, but if Kurt was wearing anything that eluded to Daltasia, it could easily tip off their game.

He settled for his favourite comfortable jeans, and a pull-over long-sleeve shirt with a warm hoodie. He closed his wardrobe with a sad smile, knowing his father would come by to box it up in a few days.

He wrote out his letters as quickly as he could - one for work, one for Rachel, another for Finn - and left them in envelopes on the dresser.

When he stepped out into the living room, Blaine was waiting. His tunic was pressed and clean, and almost cartoonishly bright against the muted backdrop of Kurt's apartment.

It struck him all at once that the prince he was staring at was so far removed from the one he first met, even if they looked the same. Blaine had become a different man, and while he was surely stunning before, now the sheer, flawed reality of him was absolutely breathtaking.

"Are you ready?" Blaine asked, eyes bright, as he held out a hand.

Kurt nodded and took it, sliding into his arms and heaving a soft sigh.

All the things he left behind when the door slipped shut vanished in an instant. All the books that Blaine would never read, all the clothes Kurt wouldn't wear again, all of it ceased to matter in the cool rush of the night wind as they hailed a cab and climbed inside.

He was calm, perfectly collected and still for the cab ride back to the ballroom. The warmth of Blaine's hand, resting on his knee, permeated his jeans and sank down into his skin like a comfort. A reminder that he wasn't alone, and never would be again.

Their footfalls echoed jarringly across the empty ballroom, now stripped of decoration and design. The purple banners and plush violet carpets were gone, leaving the bare bones of the ballroom in their wake.

Twenty four minutes to midnight.

The sword was where he knew it would be, where he knew Phillip would hide it for him after they'd left him to the task the night before. He found it in a darkened room by the storage closet, covered with a sheet, away from all mirrors.

The work he'd done was flawless for a last-minute job, and Kurt smiled to himself as he inspected it, grateful and relieved for the benefit of knowing the right people in the theatre community. All thanks to Rachel.

This will work. We'll get them back.

Blaine helped him carry the slab across the polished floor and out onto the balcony, setting it down where they'd planned, adjacent to the mirrors. Draping the sheet over it again, Kurt rested a hand on the hilt, thumbing over the metal and leather handle through the fabric.

This will work.

Eighteen minutes to midnight.

He eyed their covered creation, going over the right words in his head, breathing slowly and deliberately to calm his nerves. Phillip couldn't create a believable duplicate in that amount of time, no. But he could do the rest.

It was a risk. A huge risk, but with the right props and the right setting, he was banking on the one thing he knew he could do, when the time called for it: act.

Blaine rested a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back from his wandering thoughts. He turned, and smiled softly, schooling his expression into a calm and collected exterior.

"Any minute now," Blaine said.

Kurt was proud of him, and not just for the strength in his voice. A part of him hoped deep down that even if Blaine had never come here, had never experienced his world, he still would have realised in himself what an incredible king he could become.

At least now Kurt had the opportunity to remind him for the rest of their lives.

Blaine leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, brushing fingers over his cheek gently. As he pulled back, Kurt smiled at him reassuringly. His eyes flashed brightly under the yellow sconce lights that lined the balcony walls, diffused by the glow of the city beyond.

Twelve minutes to midnight.

It started as a faint ebb of smoke. Just a slow, barely-there trail of mist, curling and twisting as it crept down the wooden legs of the mirror and bled onto the ground.

Blaine saw it first, and he reached out to take Kurt's hand in his own, squeezing gently and pointing with his eyes.

They stood still as the sheet of sickly green began to pour in waves from the face of the glass, coiling around anything it encountered like a phantom snake.

They took a step back at the same time, watching the wisps unfurl rapidly until the sweep of Sebastian's shadow rose from the billow. His lips peeled back into a white grin against the green as his form took shape.

Kurt could feel Blaine's hand, soft and warm around his, thumb pressed lightly into his palm. Somehow it kept him at ease, even as Sebastian glanced between them, and lifted a hand.

"There's no need for that," Blaine said quickly.

Sebastian paused, faint sparks of yellow light lingering around his fingertips.

"We didn't come to fight."

Narrowing his eyes, Sebastian waited, hand flexing lightly in the air. "Where is the sword?"

"It's here," Blaine said, gaze unwavering. "Please, return our friends."

With a light huff of laughter, Sebastian dropped his hand.

"How simple things must be in your tiny little head," Sebastian drawled. "The sword. First."

"And why would we do that?" Kurt interjected calmly.

"Ah, yes," Sebastian's eyes flicked over to him. "You again. It's funny, now I see you in the light, I didn't realise that fairies existed in this world."

"And I didn't know meerkats and weasels could breed, but here you are," Kurt shot back coolly.

Blaine's mouth twitched at the corner, just a flicker of a smile.

"Show us the girls, at least bring them out of the mirror," Kurt said. "Then you get your sword."

Sebastian folded both hands in front of himself, measuring both men with a disdainful glare.

"Don't waste my time," he said. "You have minutes before the spell rises, and the sword returns. If nobody returns with it, Daltasia is left with neither regent nor king. It will fall into anarchy."

"And you'll be stuck here," Kurt countered, pinching one eye and smirking at him. "Won't that be fun."

Sneering, Sebastian straightened, visibly growing in height until he seemed to tower over them both. With a flick of his hand, the mirrors behind him began to bubble and shimmer, leaking tendrils of grey and green that slowly shifted in hue until coils of red and blue became fabric, and two figures fell through.

"Rachel," Kurt called, trying to mask the concern in his voice as his friend spluttered, clutching her girlfriend tightly. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, still coughing and clinging. "Fine," she croaked.

"He's-"

"We know," Quinn choked out, meeting his eyes as she steadied Rachel in her arms. "We saw."

With a sharp flicker of light, a cracking noise ripped through the air and both women stumbled, held back by a twisting serpentine of translucent rope.

"They're still mine," Sebastian said smoothly. "The sword. Now."

Kurt felt Blaine's eyes on him and met his gaze, trying to ignore the quickening of his pulse, the adrenaline that had fired in his veins at the unexpected tear of sound.

Blaine's expression was still calm, still unreadable, and it was enough to help Kurt slow his screaming heartbeat.

Sebastian eyed the scabbard tied to Blaine's belt, hissing lightly when he realised it was empty.

"Where is the sword?!" he shouted, rage burning behind his eyes.

Blaine moved slowly, dipping a hand into the shadows where the covered block had gone unnoticed. He pulled away the black sheet of fabric carefully, and dropped it to the ground.

Sebastian growled. "What is this?"

"There's magic in all worlds, Sebastian," Blaine said calmly, watching his step-brother's face.

He squeezed Kurt's hand absently, and Kurt squeezed back, a quiet reminder to both of them.

Keep contact. Keep a hold of him. Don't let go.

Sebastian's eyes flicked between the two of them and the large grey block that encased the sword.

"We have an old legend here," Kurt said carefully, putting as much gravity behind it as he could. "That right there is the rock of ages. It's been used before, for this purpose."

Rachel shot him a questioning look, but behind her Quinn's mouth curled into a soft, impressed smile.

"What purpose?" Sebastian demanded.

"It holds the sword of the king, to prove him," Quinn chimed in smoothly. "Only the true king can pull the sword from the stone."

"King Arthur, of course," Rachel gasped. "Bu-" she hissed quietly, silenced by a pinch from Quinn.

"I don't believe you, it's just rock," Sebastian spat.

"Try it," Kurt offered. "Pull the sword out."

With a sweeping step, Sebastian took the hilt and tugged, jerking bodily when it didn't budge. He tried again, gathering both hands around the hilt and pulling as hard as he could.

Kurt smirked.

God bless cement and the NY Ector Theatre props department.

"Now as I understand it," Kurt began. "You can only use the sword's power if you can wield it."

"Blaine," Sebastian growled, spinning on his heel and raising a threatening hand. "Pull the sword free, now. Or your friends will die."

Kurt felt the tension ripple through Blaine, saw the flash movement as he set his jaw. "If you kill them, you're still left without a sword."

"Tell me then, brother, what is your grand plan?" Sebastian asked mockingly. "We seem to be at a stalemate."

"I will go with you," Blaine told him. "Just you and me. We don't belong here, Sebastian."

"And you think I'd let you rule?"

"Kurt will stay," he said, keeping his eyes fixed.

Kurt tried not to flinch at his side, tried not to give them away. Blaine had never lied before in his life, but he was doing well. Kurt managed to force down the slow-creeping tendrils of fear, rising in his throat.

Sebastian's gaze locked on Kurt at that moment, as if he could sense it. Kurt held his chin up higher in defiance, glaring back.

"No betrothed. No crown. Just take me with you, and let these people go."

"You would give me Daltasia?" Sebastian asked, voice thick with suspicion.

"Even if you take it now, you won't rule forever." Blaine pressed his hand to the crest over his heart. "I trust in the Dual Queens word, to return."

"Cute," Sebastian laughed. "Fairytales for a fairytale world."

None of them saw Rachel straighten suddenly, eyes wide and blinking in the pale yellow light of their restraints. She glanced at Quinn, and reached out to take her hand carefully, searching her face for recognition.

I've told you this story.

Quinn's mouth fell open slightly, her brow lifting for a moment before she looked to where Kurt and Blaine stood, hands still joined together.

Her throat flashed as she swallowed, weighing up the situation as quickly as her mind could manage to draw it in.

When she glanced back, nothing else was important anymore. It slipped away, lost in the look on Rachel's face.

She smiled softly, eyes sad but resolute, and gave a short nod.

"Do you agree to my terms?" Blaine asked sharply.

Sebastian watched him for a moment, studying his posture and the determined expression on his face.

"Very well," he said with a smirk.

A sharp shot of blue light split the sky in a wave, rocketing down in silvery sparks tinged with red, coalescing around the blade and shaking the building under them like an earthquake.

"It's time!" Blaine shouted. "Let them go!"

Sebastian laughed again, and lifted his fingers smoothly, holding still for a deceiving moment and glancing down to Kurt and Blaine's linked hands.

Blaine's heart stopped in his chest, eyes flashing with fear. He knows.

It happened too quickly. He wasn't fast enough. He knew it was coming, in the fraction of a moment before Sebastian flicked his fingers at Kurt.

The twist of yellow lashed across the open balcony, freeing both women and wrapping itself around Kurt's shoulders, tearing him back and out of Blaine's grip.

"KURT!" Blaine cried out, stumbling and racing across the stone floor, scrambling to reach him before another coil of rope lashed around his chest and dragged him viciously back towards the stone.

"So close, little brother!" Sebastian shouted over the roar of deafening sound emanating from the shots and sparks of light encircling the sword, pouring down from above. "It's not that easy to fool me!"

He gasped sharply when a small, strong hand clapped down on his shoulder, and turned to find Quinn smirking at him.

"I don't know about that."

One hand in Quinn's and the other reaching out, Rachel took hold of the sword.

Kurt's eyes widened as he looked up. "RACHEL!"

Red lightning twined with blue and twisted down in a thunderclap, a blinding wave, splitting the sky and gushing over the balcony in shattering streaks of white light before it flickered out, and shadow fell.

Dizzy and shaking, Kurt forced his eyes open against the pain, choking for air when he caught the outline of Blaine's still frame, and the empty space beyond him.

They were gone.