Rachel had taken off already, had bolted through the living room with her gym bag before she wished him well and vanished like some kind of tiny bouncing mirage. Kurt rolled his eyes fondly in her wake, and went about tidying his sketchbooks and pencils from the previous night.

When Blaine hadn't emerged by the time he finished making pancakes, Kurt took a moment to peer down the hall, to eye the closed door at the end. It wasn't like Blaine to sleep in, he never had before. But then, something had happened to him last night, Kurt was certain. Something that Blaine hadn't been able to find the words to explain at the time.

An idea struck him, and he smiled to himself as he pulled down the breakfast tray he kept on the refrigerator. He prepared their plates quickly, gathering cutlery and lifting the tray to his hip before he wandered back down the hall.

He knocked softly when he reached the door. "Blaine?"

There was no answer. He knocked again, a little more firmly.

"Kurt?" was the muffled, sleepy reply, and Kurt smiled.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes," Blaine answered groggily, then quickly added; "P-please do."

Kurt opened the door, giving it a little push and adjusting his hands to hold the tray either side as he wandered in, smiling and cocking his head at the sleepy prince tangled up on the bed.

Books were strewn around the room in stacks, like tiny towers of paper and canvas, lined up either side of the bed frame or pushed back against the wall. Most of them had paper bookmarks and pieces of string sticking out of random pages, keeping place, sometimes in multitudes. Kurt couldn't help but huff a silent laugh.

Blaine blinked at him for a moment, bleary and beautiful, barely propped up and expressionless in his daze of half-awake. His hair was a mess, just a tangle of curls, and his scruff had darkened further still. When he saw the tray in Kurt's hands, his brow shot up and he blinked in surprise. "Breakfast?"

Kurt grinned as he came to the bedside. "Breakfast," he confirmed. "We can have it in here, if you want?"

Nodding rapidly, Blaine shifted up the mattress, scooting back and pulling the covers flat as Kurt lowered the tray and climbed carefully onto the bed beside it.

"Where did you want to go today?" he asked, handing Blaine the cutlery and turning the tray longways on the bed.

Blaine crossed his legs quickly, rocking forward and inspecting his plate with a gleam in his eye.

Kurt smiled at the reaction, remembering the last time they'd had pancakes, and the way Blaine had rhapsodised about them for half the day. The perfectionist in him scolded him silently for not making something different, something new. But he couldn't bring himself to listen. Pancakes are his favourite.

"I was thinking," Blaine began, knife dragging through the butter. "Maybe… we could stay here today?"

Kurt's brow lifted in surprise. "Sure," he said, eyes drifting to the books. "You have plenty of reading to do."

Blaine nodded, still focused on the task of breakfast.

"I just have to drop off your suit design, then I'm… free. For the rest of the day," Kurt offered casually.

He stopped the rest of his thoughts from reaching his mouth, stopped himself from asking, ignored the word princess lingering on his tongue.

"Thank you so much, Kurt." Blaine looked up at him at last, eyes bright and sincere. "I can't even begin… I don't think I can ever thank you enough. For everything."

Kurt laughed. "It's not that big a deal," he said, waving a hand and taking another bite. "I think you'll love the suit, though. It's very… you. And you can wear your sword," he pointed with his fork to where the sword lay across the vanity, "it accessorises nicely."

Blaine glanced over at it, mouth curling into a hesitant smile.

After a beat, he looked at Kurt again quickly before he dropped his gaze to take another bite of his food. "It's been in the royal family for generations," he said. "It was my father's sword. So I'm grateful I won't have to part with it for the evening."

Kurt eyed the weapon, mind drifting over daydreams of knights and kings and castles. "It's beautiful," he said.

Blaine nodded. "It very powerful, too," he added after another mouthful. "It's how I got here."

Puzzled, Kurt turned back to him.

"Sebastian," Blaine explained. "He has great magical talents, but he needed something strong enough, powerful enough to get me here. The sword belonged to the Dual Queens of old, they say it holds power beyond imagining, and Sebastian simply… harnessed it."

Kurt nodded slowly in understanding as he ate.

"The enchantment holds to the sword," Blaine said, and paused before he added roughly; "When midnight comes on the twelfth night, it's… it's what will take me home."

Trying to swallow to wet his dry throat, Kurt sat back in shock. Three more days. That's all there was, just… three more days.

He glanced back to the sword, and a voice in his head wondered absently if there were any metal foundries in New York. Where's a decent Mount Doom when you need one?

"That was wonderful," Blaine said as he finished his breakfast, setting down his cutlery carefully. "I have to teach the cooks to make these."

Kurt nodded along, barely listening while his mind frantically tried to wrap around the reality that had just come crashing down around him. Three days.

The troubling thoughts dissipated instantly when Blaine looked up, and Kurt caught the smear of syrup at the corner of his mouth. Chuckling, he tilted his head, watching him fondly.

Blaine smiled back, his brow twitching. "What is it?"

"You have a little-" He gestured with his hand.

Blaine straightened, and his eyes swirled down, trying to see whatever was caught on his face.

Kurt's nose scrunched up as he laughed, and he reached out a thumb to wipe the syrup away.

He froze when Blaine's eyes widened suddenly, staring back at him. He couldn't keep his hand from brushing over warm skin, finger slipping into the tiny crook at the edge of Blaine's mouth and down through his stubble before he snatched his hand away. He quickly grabbed a napkin, cleaning the syrup off his fingers and holding it out to Blaine.

"You-" His voice was breathy and barely there, and he offered a hesitant smile. "You should shave, it's getting pretty rough."

Wiping away the last of the syrup, Blaine paused, eyes pinching in confusion. "Shave?"

Kurt's mouth formed an o for a moment, and he mentally kicked himself for not realising sooner.

"I - you've - you've never shaved," he said, nodding carefully. "That's okay, I can. Show you. Come on." He slid off the bed, ignoring the flutter his stomach gave in protest.

He didn't look back as they went, confident in the sound of footfalls behind him that Blaine had followed. He crouched in front of the bathroom cupboard when he reached it, digging around to find his spare razor.

Blaine watched, eyes just as huge and curious as ever, while Kurt lathered the brush and showed him how to hold the razor. He stopped before every new step to explain, and Blaine listened carefully, unblinking.

"And this will make my face less … fuzzy?" he asked, letting Kurt tilt his chin to the side as he brushed the foam across his cheek.

"Yep," Kurt said, his voice a little too high and uneven. "You don't have to, but if you shave every morning you won't end up… fuzzy."

Blaine nodded, and Kurt did everything in his power to avoid the big hazel eyes that were locked on him while he worked.

He'd always found shaving soothing, something about the ritual and the routine, the scent and the sensation that came with it. He dragged the razor in smooth upward strokes, taking his time and showing Blaine the best angles to use to avoid cutting himself.

His heart was beating too fast, and he wondered absently if Blaine could hear it, it felt so loud. He moved very slowly, hand wrapped around Blaine's fingers as he helped him sweep the razor over skin. "Like that," he said.

Blaine was holding his breath; Kurt could feel it. He saw his throat flash in the silver light reflecting off the tiles, just a quick shot of movement as he swallowed, and held perfectly still once again.

"You can breathe," Kurt whispered.

He saw the way Blaine's lip trembled slightly. "I don't think… I can."

Kurt wet his lips, ignoring the little hiss of his own soft gasp for air. He stepped back quickly, leaving the razor in Blaine's hands and dropping his own to hold onto the bench behind him.

"Sorry, it gets a little crowded in here," he said.

Blaine's eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and he looked at Kurt with uncertain eyes.

"Just keep going like that," Kurt added quickly, realising he'd left Blaine standing there with no clue. "Just upward - yes, like that."

Blaine's hand resumed its path, and his eyes shifted to the mirror to keep watch of what he was doing.

By the time he'd finished, Kurt felt like he was panting, the room suddenly too muggy and the air too thin.

"I'm going to - go," he said, sliding towards the door. "You should shower, get dressed. I have to run some errands, but I'll be back before you know it."

He didn't wait for a reply before he slipped out the door, pulling it gently shut behind him and letting his eyes fall closed as he sucked in long, ragged breaths, his mind a whirlwind of Oh god, oh god, what am I doing?

While Blaine was in the shower, he gathered their dishes and cleaned up quickly, trying not to think about what he'd just done. He caught himself lingering on the fingertip memory of Blaine's jaw, the way his skin had felt, so warm and so breathtakingly real and right there. He closed his eyes and shook himself of the rampant rush of thoughts; the flash of his throat, the way he'd looked at him so close and so clear under long, thick lashes, something dark and unnamable hidden behind eyes that used to look so innocent.

He shook himself, gathering his bag before he headed out and found a cab to deliver the designs for Blaine's suit, with rush instructions for the ball tacked neatly to the cover. The sudden escape into the cacophony and the rush New York cleared his head perfectly, and by the time he was home again, Rachel was back, showered and changed from her morning at the gym, and shouting at someone down the phone.

It took less than ten seconds for Kurt to determine it was her agent, and no, she wouldn't be accepting the new role, she was on hiatus. He stifled a smile at her overdramatic irritation, glancing back down the hall to find Blaine's door had closed again.

He blinked, confused, and turned his attention back to Rachel as she hung up.

"That- that- ungrateful little- URGH!"

"Still trying to negotiate your glorious return?" he asked dryly.

"He just doesn't get it," she groaned, leaning back against the counter. "None of them do. It's just not what I want anymore."

He rubbed her arm, mouth drawing up into a sympathetic frown as he tried not to let his thoughts reflect in his expression.

After a stretch of silence, he figured it'd been long enough to ask.

"Has Blaine been out?"

"No," she said, surprised. "I thought he went with you?"

Kurt shook his head. "He must be reading."

He took a step forward, but stopped when she placed a hand on his chest, rushing in front of him.

"I'll go check," she said quickly, spinning and heading down the hall, oblivious to the way Kurt sagged visibly behind her.

She only rapped on the door briefly before she slipped inside, closing it behind her and turning to find Blaine pacing around his room.

"O-oh," she said in quiet surprise, gaze drifting over the strewn array of clothes on the bed, and up to the half-naked prince, shaking and clad only in his sweatpants.

He looked up at the sound of her voice, frightened for a moment before he visibly relaxed.

"Lady Rachel, I - I - I think I need your help," he said, breathless and panicky.

"Shh, sweetie, what's wrong? What's…" she waved a hand at the bed as she moved to his side. "What's all this?"

"I discovered something last night," he told her quickly, still pacing. "I realised something."

"Oh?" she asked eagerly.

"About the law of my kingdom, the - about how I have to have a betrothed, I have to find my true … love," he said carefully, "before twelve days have passed. To be crowned."

"I see," she said, confused. "Did you… did you find a princess, or...?"

"That's just the thing," Blaine said, meeting her eyes. "He never actually said anything about…"

"About what?"

He shrugged slightly. "A princess."

Rachel's eyes widened.

"It just said… betrothed."

"God, I love loopholes," she breathed quietly, hands clasped together.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing." She waved a dismissive hand. "So you're… looking at clothes?"

"I need to choose," he said. "Something … the right thing. To wear. Today is important. I want to… look right."

She blinked, and studied him for a moment. "Why is today important?"

"I have to…" He drew and released a shaky breath, running both hands through his hair. "I feel like I may be…"

Her hands screwed up into tiny, excited fists. "Oh! Oh. You want to - maybe - talk to Kurt?"

The relief that washed over him was instant, and he shot her a grateful look. "Yes. Thank you."

She made a tiny squealing sound, and he laughed at her excitement as she squeezed his arm and bounced on the spot.

"Okay, the right clothes. Um."

She eyed over the items strewn across the bed, all still tagged from the day she'd bought them for him. She was disappointed he'd never worn them, and when Kurt had asked why he still wore the tunic every day he'd only ever said that he feared a princess wouldn't recognise him without it.

Rachel's eyes flashed with delight and silent victory. Score one for vagueness in favour of fairytale equality.

"So, you want me to help," she narrated for herself, eyeing over pants and jackets. "So you can … talk. To Kurt. About the two of you."

He blushed, ducking his head slightly.

She rocked back on her heels in thought. "Wow. You want to pick out the perfect outfit to talk to a boy. You really are gay."

Blaine blinked, brow knitting together as he gave her a bemused smile.

"This one," she said, plucking a maroon shirt from the bed and handing it to him, and finding a frayed pair of dark grey-blue jeans to add. "And these. With the black boyshorts."

"I'm unsure what underwear has to do with-"

"Trust me," she said, holding up a hand. "Always, always wear nice underwear."

He nodded seriously, accepting her sage advice and clutching the clothes to his chest.

She patted his arm. "Don't worry," she said. "Kurt… he cares about you so much. This is a good… good day."

With a bright smile, he tucked his chin shyly over the clothes in his arms.

"Do you know what you're going to say?"

Blaine's lips pressed together in a thin line, and he thought carefully for a moment before his face fell.

"No, I just… I know," he sighed softly, "for the first time in… my entire life, I know what I feel. What I want to do. And in Daltasia, I would know a song already. I would have the right words, I would just be able to reach out and--" He let out an exasperated breath. "But here? I can't. I'm so lost, and I don't know how to do it right. All I want to do is…"

She pressed her hand to her heart suddenly. "You want to kiss Kurt?"

His eyes fell closed, and the word came out on a broken breath; "Yes."

"Oh, sweetheart," she said softly. "It's alright, we kiss here too. It's just a little different… in the," she waved a hand, "lead up."

"I keep-" He stopped, struggling to find the right words. "I feel like we almost do, every time he's close, but we never… do."

"Talk," she said firmly. "Talk to him first. Tell him. You'll both feel a little dizzy, you'll both be a little shy, but that's normal. And the kissing comes after that."

He looked up at her, eyes huge and hopeful. "It does?"

She nodded.

"I'm going to go out," she said, slipping back towards the door. "So you two can… talk."

"Thank you, Rachel," he said softly. "You've been such a good friend to me, I-"

"Hush," she cut him off with a beaming grin. "Get dressed. He's out there waiting."

She turned for the door, stopping halfway when she spotted the familiar lines of the broad, gold-covered book, splayed on his pillow. Sex and Sexuality.

"Sweetie, how many times have you read that?" she asked.

"Three," he said simply, pulling the maroon shirt over his head and finding the armholes.

She grinned to herself, biting her lip and deciding as she slid out the door that Kurt was going to owe her so, so many favours for this one.

She made her way back down the hall, and Kurt didn't seem to realise until she was gathering her bags that she was heading out again.

"Where are you off to this time?" he asked from his seat on the couch, lingering over a copy of Vogue. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine," she said, pulling on her coat and fixing the collar, flipping her hair over it. "He's just getting dressed, he'll be out for lunch, you two can… talk."

Kurt's brow dropped in confusion.

"I'm off for lunch, myself." She found her phone and sent a quick text. "I'll see you later. Be good!" she called, opening the door. "And be gentle!"

He sat up on the couch, letting his magazine flip shut. "What are you talking abo-" The door closed with a thump, and his shoulders fell. "Great."

Sighing, he pulled off his glasses and dropped them on top of the magazine on the coffee table, rising to his feet.

What on earth was she talking about?

"Kurt?"

He turned at the sound of his name, and froze when Blaine walked very slowly out of the hallway, shoulders drawn up and hands buried in his pockets.

Kurt didn't really register that he was openly staring, couldn't feel his mouth hanging slack as his eyes raked over Blaine from head to toe.

The jeans were tight and cut perfectly, hanging over his huge bare feet without covering them. The lines of the denim hugged angles of him Kurt had tried so long not to think about, the firm lines of muscle moving up both thighs, and the waistband hung just below his hips, slightly frayed and looking like he'd worn them a thousand times before. He'd pushed both sleeves of the maroon shirt up to his elbows, and it was loose enough to look casual, but still clung perfectly to the hint of what was underneath.

Kurt blinked rapidly, stunned and not quite able to move. He'd seen Blaine in normal clothes, in his sweats, so many times - it shouldn't have been anything new, but it was. It was new. The prince he'd somehow managed to rescue from a street fight one random night had suddenly stepped into his living room looking like a shy boyfriend, blushing and sweet and not sure what to say the morning after.

His heart froze in his chest at the word that skipped across his thoughts. Boyfriend.

Don't. Stop it.

"You look-" he breathed, still a little lost.

Blaine seemed to curl in on himself slightly, and Kurt tried not to laugh, tried not to smile from ear to ear at how ridiculously gorgeous just that simple act was; the timid side of him, the tiny embarrassed lift of his chest and the hands that were shoved in his pockets.

"These are… difficult." Blaine lifted his arms, pushing his sleeves back up where they kept falling down. "I think they're a little too long."

Kurt let out a soft breath of laughter. "It doesn't matter," he said, drinking in the sight of him again. "You look wonderful."

Blaine entire expression changed, lighting up like someone flipped a switch, like the day in the library. That smile made Kurt's heart ache in his chest, sore from beating just a little too hard.

"We should… um," Kurt said suddenly, shaking himself and trying to regain his composure.

"Kurt, can we…" Blaine took a very careful, steadying breath. "Talk?"

Nodding slowly, Kurt turned back to the lounge and found his seat again, smiling as Blaine wandered over and sank down into the couch beside him.

This isn't awkward at all, he thought.

Blaine seemed to be working himself up to something, eyes flicking back and forth over his own hands and his lap, fingers flexing in the fading morning sunlight.

"I… " he began hesitantly. "I've learned so much, this last week. There's been so much I never even imagined could be real. But I've seen it, now. And this place…" he breathed deeply. "This place is more than anything I ever dreamed of."

A waved of cold rushed through Kurt's veins, and he stilled as he listened, heart stuttering like someone had plunged it in ice. Oh god, he realised. Oh god, he's saying goodbye.

"Blaine-" he interrupted quickly. "Don't."

Blaine stopped, brow drawing tight in alarm.

"I know you have to go," Kurt said, keeping his eyes down. "I know some … magical power or something is supposed to whisk you away friday night, and that's…"

Listen to what you're saying, an angry voice demanded in his head. This is ridiculous.

"Kurt," Blaine said, the clip of his name harsh on the air, drawing him back. "I want you to understand, please. There's so much I know now. So much I didn't even think about before. And I do have to go back, but-"

Kurt met his eyes hesitantly, heart screaming in his chest. Don't say it, please.

"I want …" Blaine sighed, eyes falling shut as he struggled to find the right words. He rubbed his hands over his face. "I want all of it. I want… happily ever after. I want you to have that, too. And we-"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off with a disbelieving laugh. "I know you're going to find your… princess. And go back to your fairytale, and it all comes back around to happily ever after for you. But it's not real, here."

Blaine stared at him, eyes clouded and hurt. "Of course it's real. It's how it's meant to… work out, for everybody."

"Not here," Kurt said with an irritated huff, pulling himself up off the couch. "Here there's divorce, and couples counselling, and if you're lucky she won't take your crown as alimony."

"Alimony? Kurt, I don't understand," Blaine pleaded helplessly, hands dropping and laying open in his lap. "Why are you saying that?"

"Because it's true," he said sadly. "Real life isn't a fairytale, Blaine. The damsels in distress have to save themselves. And prince charming doesn't just show up on your doorstep."

"I was on the street," Blaine whispered, face falling.

"What?"

"I wasn't on the doorstep," he said, looking up.

Kurt felt a sharp stab of guilt at the tears welling in Blaine's eyes.

"I was on the street."

"Blaine, I care about you," Kurt said gently, dropping back onto the couch to take both of his hands. "I just don't want to see some girl hurt you, or break you. I don't want you to lose everything because of some daydream about happy endings. You're so much more than that."

Blaine sniffed softly, forcing a smile. "Still not enough, though."

Kurt let his eyes drift shut, and he thumbed gently over Blaine's hands before they pulled away sharply.

"I'm should go," Blaine insisted, slipping off the couch. "I should … read. Learn more."

"Blaine-"

"No, it's… I'm sorry," he said firmly, meeting Kurt's eyes. "It's my fault. I still have so much to learn."

Kurt's mouth pulled into a thin line, just a curl of pained sympathy as he tried to think of something he could say to make it easier.

So much for gentle.

But it was never going to be easy, he knew that. Learning about the reality of love was the one thing he couldn't soften for someone as beautiful and innocent as a fairytale prince.

He watched him go, watched him slip away down the corridor, suddenly seeming so much smaller than he ever had before.

Hours later, when Blaine hadn't emerged again for lunch, he decided it was best to leave him be. He knew Blaine probably needed space, and time to think, but it didn't stop Kurt from worrying, from pacing around and cleaning things that were already clean.

Somewhere between tidying the spotless kitchen and reorganising his book case, he heard the front door open and close.

"I'm back!" Rachel announced, brandishing a bottle of wine. "You didn't answer your phone. How is everything?"

Kurt met her bright eyes with a soft, sad smile.

Her face fell. "What happened?"

"He's been in his room for the day," he told her. "We talked about … love. He still believes in the fairytale and the happily ever after, I think I… maybe shattered that illusion for him. I feel awful," he sighed, dropping onto the couch and burying his face in his hands. "But it had to happen some time, right?"

"Kurt," she said, her voice low and hesitant. "What did you say?"

He gave her a weak shrug. "He was talking about happily ever after, and I just… I told him the truth. It's not real. If he keeps believing it, keeps thinking that's how it's going to be, he's just going to get even more hurt in the end."

"Oh, Kurt," she sighed, shoulders dropping. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, like she was going to cry.

"What?" he asked, suddenly stung. "You asked me to be gentle, that's as gentle as I could manage, okay?"

She glared at him briefly, turning to rest the wine on the counter, dropping her bag on a stool.

"Wait," she twisted around, "he's in his room?"

Kurt nodded.

"He hasn't come out since you… said that?"

"No, I figured he needed space," Kurt said, eyes wandering over the perfectly neatened coffee table.

"I love you, you know that," she said, stripping off her coat quickly and throwing it aside. "But sometimes you're a fucking idiot."

He stiffened in surprise at the cuss, and watched her stride down the hallway out of sight.

She didn't knock on the door, just slipped inside, letting it shut behind her.

"Blaine?"

He was curled by the head of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest. The new clothes had been discarded on the dresser, and he was back in his sweats with his tunic spread over his knees, his head resting gently against it.

His gaze was empty, lost and unfocused, and staring at nothing in particular.

"Blaine?" she asked again, and this time he stirred, looked at her for a moment before his head dropped back down.

"Kurt told me what he said," she offered gently, moving to the bedside and dropping to sit behind him. She rested a hand on his back. "He doesn't really believe that, you know."

"I don't know what to believe," he said softly.

"Love is real," she said firmly, moving her hand to his shoulder and leaning to catch his eye. "I promise."

"Why does he… I don't understand," he sighed, letting his eyes drift shut.

She stroked at his hair gently. "Nobody's ever loved him like you do."

He straightened, looking at her over his shoulder at last, his red eyes suddenly huge and surprised.

She shook her head sadly. "He's had people say that they do, but they always left."

He blinked for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what she was telling him.

"Just like you're leaving in three days," she offered gently.

Blaine's mouth fell open slightly with a silent gasp.

"He's just trying to make sure he doesn't get hurt again," she told him, rubbing his arm. "You didn't say it, did you?"

Blaine swallowed roughly, closing his eyes. "I didn't get the chance, there was so much…"

"I know." She rested her chin on his shoulder, still stroking his arm comfortingly. "But you need to. Because he's not going to believe it until he hears it."

He nodded.

Her gaze fell to the tunic, and she reached to run her fingers gently over the velvety fabric. "Do you want to go home?"

When his eyes fell to the crest, he smiled sadly. "No."

She felt a rush of relief, dropping both arms to hug around his waist, pressing herself against his back.

"I don't know what to do," he breathed, and she could hear the helplessness bleeding through on the sound of his voice.

"Shh," she said softly, kissing his temple and settling down again to hold on to him.

"It's alright," she said, and smiled slowly as the idea began to take shape.

"I have a plan."