Through heavy eyelids, and with weary but smiling eyes, Blaine watched his Elf husband cradle their sleeping daughter in his arms. Kurt sat in a simple chair that Blaine had carved from reclaimed Elm just for this purpose, but Kurt could have been seated on a throne in The Great Hall of Rivendell for how regal did he look! How handsome his countenance in the golden glow of the torches that lit their humble chamber. Blaine could never tire of looking upon his husband – his long chestnut hair adorned with Dwarven braids, the ends of which rested on his shoulders; his eyes that shone a silvery-blue like the Stars above; his skin, pale and flawless as the Moonlight. Even as time passed and began to show upon his face (quicker for Blaine than for Kurt, but the signs, however faint, were there), Kurt was still as fresh as Spring, as bright as Morning, as sacred as the Sun that brought life to all … and Kurt brought life to Blaine. Kurt was Blaine’s Sun, his Moon, and his Stars. Kurt was his Springtime and his Summer, his night and his day.

T’was nighttime in the world above, and Blaine and Kurt had settled down to feed their daughter and put her to bed. They drew lots for the honor, but Kurt had won (though Blaine might have helped Kurt win, if only just a little, so that he could have the fortune of a pleasant vantage point to watch his husband and hear him sing).

So Kurt sat in his chair, fed her from her bottle, and sang her to sleep – sweet, charming, Elven lullabies – while his Dwarf sat nearby on the bed. It seemed as though lullabies sung by Elves for their children worked on smallish Dwarves as well, for Blaine felt himself nodding off, but when Daisy drifted to sleep, Kurt’s song stopped, and he sat looking at her sleeping face, content but also quietly reflective.

Blaine blinked the sleep from his eyes, shook the spell of Kurt’s song from his head, and watched his husband’s face, his eyes in particular, peculiar in their sadness considering their focus. Blaine wondered if, perhaps, Kurt was thinking about his brother, Finn, who passed away too early, who would never have children of his own, or meet this little girl who would have been his niece. Or if Kurt was thinking about his Father, who had cast him from his life so cruelly. Or his Mother, who had died shortly after he was born. Or his Stepmother, who had raised him as her own, loved him as her own, and whose selflessness had saved his life. Four people dear to Kurt who could not see his darling Daisy, nor glory in the happiness of his life as it stood now.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered, “is there something wrong? You seem so … serious.”

“No, my love.” Kurt smiled. “Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking … I never imagined my life turning out this way.”

“How, my love? Living underground, in a Mountain of all places? Or with a husband and child who adore you?”

“Both,” Kurt admitted, “but the latter, in part, because I never saw myself happy.”

“Why?” Blaine moved closer and knelt on the stool at Kurt’s feet. He lifted a hand to brush an auburn lock from Daisy’s forehead. “Why should you not see yourself happy?”

“Because I thought … I did not deserve to be happy,” Kurt confessed, and that was all that needed to be said for, in truth, it was not Kurt who felt he did not deserve happiness, but his Father who made him believe it. Blaine knew that Kurt deserved all of the happiness he had been given. Lord Elrond knew. Galadriel knew. Since blessings came from the Valar, they, in their Great Wisdom, knew. Those stronger and more powerful than any mere Elf knew.

And yet, in the face of this one Elf, who should have ranked Kurt above others, Kurt felt himself deficient, and Blaine felt himself become incensed. Blaine had only seen Kurt’s Father once, but the impact he’d made during that one meeting, ripping Kurt apart with dark words on the eve of a celebration in Kurt’s honor, would be ingrained in Blaine for a lifetime.

But before Blaine could offer Kurt any words of sympathy, Kurt spoke.

“And how about you, Husband? Is this how you saw your life?”

“I dreamed of getting married,” Blaine said with a shy smile and a glance at the ring Kurt wore, the one that Blaine had crafted for him. “I dreamed of having a child. I just did not know how that would happen. I thought that I would either have to accept living the rest of my life alone, or … make sacrifices? Do you understand?”

It took Kurt a moment of staring deep into his husband’s eyes with furrowed forehead and quirked brow before he finally understood. “Oh. Oh, yes. I understand. And I’ll admit, the thought had occurred to me as well. But as I dreamed mostly of adventure, I figured that, over time, those things would no longer matter to me.” Kurt looked from his husband’s eyes to his daughter’s face, then back again. “How could I have ever guessed that the dream of my past would become mine while I was chasing the future?”

“My life has been the realization of a dream ever since I met you,” Blaine said. “And each day that I live, it gets better. So much so that I often fear one day I will wake and discover that it is all a dream. You and our little Daisy will be gone, and I’ll be back in the Blue Mountains, preparing to take the journey to Rivendell.”

“But if you did,” Kurt said, “that would be a good thing, too.”

“How?” Blaine asked in horror. “How could that be a good thing if I no longer had you?”

“Because then you will have gone back in time, and we would have the opportunity to meet and fall in love all over again.” Kurt looked from Blaine to the sleeping baby in his arms when his eyes began to water. “And maybe that next time, when you and I meet again, I won’t be quite so horrible to you.”

Blaine put a hand on his husband’s hand, shifted a little to meet his eyes, gave him a smile of reassurance so blinding, it overshadowed Kurt’s sorrow.

“Kurt, you have been one of the greatest parts of my life. And don’t you ever think that I would dare alter a second of it. Not ... one … second.”