“What are you doing?”

Kurt breaks away from Jack’s mouth, his own open in silent exclamation, and looks up into the disapproving, angry face of his aunt Sue.

Well, shit.

----

This is Kurt’s third strike, which, to be honest, having strikes at all with his aunt is generous. Sue is the kingdom’s Queen, and she is obsessed with expanding and strengthening the Sylvester line. Weak links are not tolerated.

When Kurt’s second cousin, Terri, was unable to conceive, she faked her own pregnancy. Three times. All of them were babies stolen from poor townspeople who hadn’t a voice. When Terri’s ruse was discovered her punishment involved a guillotine. As for the children, Kurt never found out what happened to them.

That is how far Kurt’s kinsmen go to please Sue.

Kurt may have lived a life exempt from such harsh scrutiny, but his mother, and one of Sue’s dear younger sisters, had passed away from influenza when Kurt was young. Kurt’s father had followed not but a month later, leaving Kurt orphaned with a broken heart.� Sue had so graciously taken him in (her words) and raised him in the castle among most of the rest of his extended family. He hadn’t taken it well. Growing up he was stubborn, obstinate. Still, Sue favored him. She treated him as a daughter, dressed him in lovely clothes, pampered him, lavished him with all the finest things. He was not allowed outside the castle walls without a guardian and had never once explored the town or beyond without a chaperone. Sixteen years old and the most he knew of freedom was navigating the castle, and even then there were eyes all around.

It had made his secret meetings exceptionally difficult to plan and execute.

----

It had all started with David.

Homosexuality wasn’t unheard of in society, but it was thought of by most as abnormal and inappropriate. Something reserved for whorehouses, a perverse kink. Kurt didn’t think he was perverse, he barely knew a thing about sex, only that it was an act between a man and woman to bear children.� Kurt knew about kissing. His classmates kissed. Members of his family kissed. He’d read about it in stories. It seemed romantic and nice and Kurt knew it was something he wanted to try. �When he was thirteen he seized the opportunity with his chess partner, a short girl with long, silky hair. It hadn’t felt nearly as nice as he thought it would. He tried again with another girl at fifteen, but nothing. Instead he was beginning to notice how handsome some of the upperclassmen were, especially the guards in their uniforms. At first he mistook attraction for admiration, but then there was David.

David, with his dark hair and bright eyes, a strong jaw, and older by a handful of years. Dark hair was rare in the kingdom, dark eyes even more so. David’s eyes were the standard blue, but his hair was a rich brown, giving him something of an exotic look that would guarantee him plenty of potential wives. He was Kurt’s escort from choir practice and Kurt was infatuated with him. Kurt wanted badly for David to like him. He dressed more fabulously than usual with lots of gleaming gold buttons and ruffles, his hair immaculately coiffed in a backward swoosh. He would bake David cookies, would sing to him on their walks and invite him to tea. David always took the cookies with a smile, listened to Kurt with a smile, but would refuse tea every time, saying Kurt’s aunt would not approve, that he was a guard and nothing more. But Kurt was spoiled, and with the exception of being unable to explore on his own he was used to getting what he wanted. And he wanted David. For a friend or something more, Kurt wasn’t sure, but he never gave up.

On Kurt’s sixteenth birthday, David finally agreed to tea. Kurt was delighted. He dressed in his favorite outfit, a deep purple velvet overcoat, and underneath a white lace and ruffled shirt. He put the faintest hint of blush along his cheekbones, enough to pinken them but slight enough that David would not realize he was wearing any make-up at all. He put gloss on his lips to make them shine, and just the barest hint of kohl along his eyelids. For the final touch he dabbed some of his aunt’s perfume on his neck. He wanted something unnamable from David, and he was certain the only way he would get it was if he appeared girlish. David kissed girls, Kurt was sure of it.

When David came to the door he looked at Kurt in a way that Kurt had never been on the receiving end of. He didn’t have the words to describe it, but it sent a shiver along his skin without the aid of touch or breeze.

“Did you arrange all this by yourself, prince?” David asked once they were seated.

Kurt nearly dropped the plate he was about to set in front of David. “I’m not a prince,” he said, demurely, as he tended to when David was present.

“Mm. This is all very pretty.”

“Thank you.” Kurt smiled without having to fake shyness, and poured them both some tea. It smelled of lavender and vanilla and would be delicious with the tiny sandwiches and biscuits Kurt had made. As he was passing one to David’s plate, David caught his wrist. Kurt’s eyes flashed, studying David’s face for intention. David slid his chair close and Kurt froze while David brought his wrist to his nose and inhaled. “D-David?”

“Is this for me as well?” David asked, swiping a thumb gently along Kurt’s lower lip, smearing the gloss along his skin.

Kurt’s stomach churned in embarrassment and arousal, though he could not name the latter. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, prince, I like it.” David’s face came closer, his mouth ghosting over Kurt’s, moving to his ear. “I know why you ask me to tea every week.”

Kurt swallowed hard. “Do you?”

But David did not answer, at least not with words. He leaned in and kissed Kurt, so sweet and soft at first, lips sliding against each other. It was like a spark ignited inside Kurt’s chest. He dropped the sandwich he’d still been holding and clutched helplessly at David’s shirtsleeve, eyes slowly closing as his mouth melted under David’s. Nothing had ever felt so perfect, and when he was sure he would combust, David pressed him back against the table, kissing him harder, hands framing his face. Kurt whimpered as David became more aggressive, laying him on the table, pinning him to it. Plates clinked and teacups crashed and Kurt didn’t care about any of it, because David was looking down at him with a fire in his eyes, all for him.

“I shall have you, prince, if you allow,” David said in a voice unusually thick.

Kurt had no real idea what he meant, thought perhaps it was love, and began to reply when the door behind them opened. David jumped away faster than a jackrabbit. Kurt was a little slower to react, though no less embarrassed. He pulled himself up by his elbows and looked right into the livid face of his aunt.

That had been that.

David was gone the following day. Kurt railed against his aunt, convinced that David had been in the midst of confessing his love. Sue would hear none of it, nor would she offer any explanation to David’s whereabouts. She forbade Kurt from entering into sexual contact with another man or his fate would be that of David’s, and for his tantrum he received ten lashes to his behind like a child.

Kurt took the lashings and proudly did not shed a single tear. He was furious. He vowed to do exactly the opposite of what his aunt wanted, Sylvester lineage be damned.

His punishment and reason for David’s disappearance (implied as forced relocation to the opposite end of the kingdom) became prime gossip. It was much easier to find the boys in his class who were interested by the longing, lingering looks they sent him now that they knew. It was difficult to secret away and meet them, but he managed it, stolen kisses and nearly chaste caresses in dark corners and empty rooms. He never allowed it to go further, was scared of what further entailed. The kissing alone seemed to satisfy him.

He had been found with David, not more than a month later, with Vale, and finally Jack, who was the last straw.

----

Kurt, surrounded by half a dozen guards like he’s done something wrong, is being lead to the Gate.

The kingdom is on a land mass much like a very large hill or mountain, almost an island among ocean and jungle. There are two ways out, one, through the Drawbridge, which leads out to the ocean and the source of much of their food. Two, through the Gate, which leads to the Bridge, which leads out into the Wild.

No one who has gone into the Wild has ever returned.

The Wild is comprised of dense jungle which Kurt has only ever seen out the castle windows. Miles of green dotted with reds and pinks and blues of birds, crowned by the horizon. And that is it. Kurt has heard tales of vicious animals the size of wagons, of trickster ground that swallows you up when you step on it, of trees with living vines that will hang you by your neck ‘til you’re out of breath for good. He doesn’t know whether to believe them or not, because he has never spoken with a person who has actually been there. These are childhood stories told around the fireplace or before bed, warnings to mind manners and do as you’re told or you’ll be put out in the Wild never to be seen from again. In truth, only criminals are banished. Criminals, and Kurt Hummel.

“I’m real sorry about this, Porcelain, but you disobeyed me three times, and that’s three times too many,” Sue says from atop her horse, where it clops along next to the guards.

Kurt keeps his head held high and eyes forward, not sparing one look for her. “I hardly count kissing as a criminal offense.”

“It’s bad for the family name. It makes me look bad, and we can’t have that, Porcelain.”

“Stop calling me that,” Kurt snaps.

Sue sighs. “If only you could have found a nice girl to fool around with. You aren’t too young to produce an heir, after all—”

“I’m not interested in a single girl in this entire kingdom. They’re all ugly and soft.”

“And out there is preferable to one of my girls?”

She must mean her Cheerios, a small group of young women trained in entertainment and servitude. Never on Kurt’s life. He snorts, pulls a face. “You sent David out there, didn’t you? I’d thought maybe you just sent him to the other side of the kingdom, but you didn’t, did you?” Kurt asks.

He doesn’t have to look to see the expression on Sue’s face, he can imagine it from her silence.

“Fine,” Kurt continues, staring at the Gate as it comes into view. “I’ll find David and we’ll be happy. I don’t need your kingdom. We’ll have a life out there and no one will care, because we’re in love—”

Sue barks out a laugh. “You think that boy loved you? Oh, Porcelain, oh you poor, na�ve child.� You aren’t going to last a minute out there. I think I actually feel a little bad—”

But Kurt has stopped listening to her, watching with wide eyes as eight guards raise the Gate. It takes four on each side and all of them are straining against the weight. The Gate is impenetrable, taller than two houses put together and made of the strongest metal, flanked by the Wall, which is just as solid and made of stone. The chains are loud, the screech of metal against stone louder, and before he realizes it he’s being ushered forward by the small of his back.

He doesn’t mean to, told himself he wouldn’t, but he looks back at his aunt Sue. Her face is somber and she shakes her head. “Goodbye, Porcelain.”

Kurt spits his disgust and receives a shove, sending him stumbling. He falls to the ground and there is a sudden, almost deafening crash behind him as the Gate slams back down.

He is alone.

An impossibly long bridge stretches out in front of him. It’s made of wooden planks and ropes, and hangs limp, drooping in the middle. Kurt can’t help but wonder how such a bridge was constructed and hung from either side, the divide so wide and deep. Below, there is a steep fall of cliff and trees, and what sounds like a river. Looking down is enough to make Kurt’s stomach do flips, so as he starts to cross it’s a wonder he remembers to put one foot in front of the other at all. The bridge sways as he walks, some of the planks very clearly rotten, but where else can he go?

Kurt clutches his small bag of belongings and sings a song under his breath to try and distract himself, “Rock a’bye baby in the tree tops, when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall—no, that’s no good.”

By the time he makes it to the other side, Kurt is sweating, hands shaking from nerves. He falls to his knees, digging his fingers into the soil and growth as proof he’s on solid ground, and very nearly loses his breakfast. The enormity of his situation hits him hard. He has never been out of civilization, he has never been alone. Ahead of him are trees towering higher than the castle walls, foliage so dense it could be hiding anything, and the barest hint of a path that probably hasn’t seen more than criminals and his poor David in years.

Kurt feels a sudden sharp rage build that they would do this to him—him – and searches his bag for a knife. He’ll cut the ropes of the bridge so they can’t do this to anyone else, he’ll show them, he will. But Kurt is not as prepared as he should be. All he has is a small pocketknife, and the ropes are so thick and tight, having been wound and pinned for such a long time that when he begins to cut into it he barely makes an indentation. He saws and saws to no avail, becomes so angry he throws the knife in frustration.

Right off the side of the cliff.

Kurt screams something short and unintelligible. He can’t do this. His heart is beating so hard and fast it’s hard to breathe. Kurt grabs his bag up and all but runs back across the bridge, causing it to rock dangerously. He pays it no heed, coming to a halt when he’s reached the castle gate. He pounds on the metal with the sides of his fists.

“Aunt! Aunt, please! Guards! Let me back in! I’ll do anything you say! I’ll sleep with any woman you choose! Please!”

Kurt pounds and screams until his hands and throat are numb and the sun is setting beyond the trees. He slumps down and huddles in on himself against the dark, whimpering and trying to keep his sobs at bay.

It’s a long, sleepless night.

----

In the morning Kurt still feels unwilling to move, but it’s thoughts of David that stir him. He finds himself wondering what David did in this very situation, and it’s that thought, that small but blossoming hope that he may find David, that finally sets his feet in motion.

He’s back across the bridge in no time, once more faced with the Wild, the terrible unknown.

Kurt takes a breath and steps gingerly onto the path. He takes one timid step, then another, and when nothing happens his confidence grows enough to carry him at a steady pace. The path eventually tapers off into nothing, brush and undergrowth consuming it, swallowing it up the way the Wild swallows Kurt. He is frightened, every noise making him jump. He tries to walk as fast as he can, calling David’s name in an uncertain voice, wanting to find David but afraid of alerting any of the fabled giant animals to his presence.

He walks for what must be miles, he walks until his feet hurt. He walks until he’s half-delirious from fatigue. He walks until he hears a strange sound from behind him. Kurt stops, turns to look with a frightened sounding, “David?” and then there is pain, and everything goes black.