Blaine lay on Kurt’s bed, shoulders trembling as he drifted through a fitful sleep. Kurt had been alternating between watching him and pacing the floor for an hour now, trying to understand what was happening inside his mind. He’d watched Blaine cry himself dry, held him as stress and exhaustion finally took their toll, and then started his weary pacing.

His father would not approve of this either, Kurt was certain of that.

Kurt wondered if his word would be enough to save Blaine. Not only that, but who had known exactly what time to commit the murder to ensure Blaine’s innocence? Something niggled at the back of Kurt's mind, something he should be remembering, something Blaine had said- a gentle knock sounded at the door and the thought escaped.

“Kurt?” The sound of his father’s voice set Kurt’s pulse racing.

“Come in.” He said softly, glancing over at Blaine’s still sleeping form. The trembling seemed to have settled, though he was still curled tightly on himself, looking very small indeed amongst the pillows of Kurt’s large bed.

Burt followed Kurt’s gaze as soon as he entered the room.

“Why don’t we take a walk? I reckon there’s some things we have to talk about.” Kurt nodded quickly, pulling on his coat and sparing a last glance for Blaine as they left the room.

“If he wakes up, tell him I’ll be back soon. Don’t leave him alone.” He told Sam, inclining his head slightly towards the door. Sam nodded, and not for the first time, Kurt was relieved he had found such a good manservant. He looked at his father, as if daring him to say something as Sam slipped silently into the room, but Burt remained quiet.

They walked silently until they came to the the small garden Kurt’s mother had planted, continued after her death and kept immaculately tended. It was growing cold with the first whispers of winter, and Kurt pulled his coat a little tighter around himself as they stepped outside.

“I know you think I’m disappointed in you.” Burt said softly and Kurt thought he might actually hurt himself with the speed his head turned to look at his father.

“I just assumed-” He was cut off by his fathers raised hand and a shake of his head.

“I don’t want you to feel like you gotta lie to me, and I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me the truth. You understand?” Kurt nodded. He couldn’t lie to his dad, not outright. By omission, certainly, but never directly.

“Okay, so why don’t you tell me what happened with -what was his name again?” Burt wrinkled his nose, trying to remember.

“Blaine.” Kurt reminded him gently. They sat on a bench at the end of the garden, and Kurt couldn’t hep but notice they didn’t fit as well as they used to, their sides pressed together from hip to knee. The warmth of his father’s leg was oddly comforting.

“Right, Blaine. Better get to learning that. So, you gonna tell me what happened?”

Kurt talked.

He told his father about that awful morning, about walking in on Dalton, about that night and finding Blaine in his bed. He told him how Blaine had begged and how they’d spoken and finally, how he had slept with Blaine. The words flowed more freely as he continued on, working his way to the second night he’d spent with Blaine, when quite suddenly he found himself unable to continue.

“You okay there?” Burt asked and Kurt shook his head. It felt too private, too intimate, to be shared. He managed to struggles out a few words to the effect that the second night was much the same as the first.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Burt said thoughtfully, and Kurt could hear the slight sting in his voice, but he continued on quickly. “I think you care about him more than you’re letting on.”

“I know it’s silly, I hardly know him.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew his father has heard.

“Listen, I’m not gonna tell you what you should feel. If you’ve found someone you care about that much, then you shouldn’t let anyone hold you back from loving them however you want. But I don’t want you to go thinking this thing with Blaine is gonna be easy. He hasn’t had the kind of life you have, and it’s gonna be hard for him. There’s no promising we can even keep him here, but we’re gonna do our best okay?”

“I never was a big fan of the things that came easy.” Kurt said shakily, feeling instant relief as his father smiled and ruffled his hair.

“I reckon you aren’t.” He agreed. “I’m gonna get some rooms set up for Blaine, near yours in case he needs you or something.” Kurt was not surprised at that, of course Blaine couldn’t stay in his rooms indefinitely, it would be inappropriate, not even considering the assumptions people would make if they knew Kurt was sharing his bed with a pleasure slave. It was also fairly well known how very fond the king was of his eldest son, that he’d grant his every desire and Kurt had never wanted for anything since the day he was born. Not until Blaine.

“-might be able to get him one of those fancy brain doctors too maybe, see if there are any who specialise in this kinda thing. Just- he’s not a slave here, okay Kurt? We’ll have to sort everything out officially, but I don’t want you to go using him like he doesn’t matter.”

“I promise, I couldn’t do that to him.” Kurt said, with all sincerity, letting his father pull him into a crushing hug like they hadn’t shared since he was young.

“I love you Kurt, I love you so much, and your mom would have been so proud.” Burt mumbled into his hair and Kurt squeezed just that little bit tighter, enjoying this brief moment when he was just a kid with his dad, instead of the prince and the king. These moments were rare and precious and he didn’t want to waste a second.

Blaine was sitting up in bed when Kurt returned. He was quiet, drinking tea, hardly noticing when Sam refilled the cup.

“Why did you leave?” He asked softly as Kurt settled on the bed next to him, waving a hand to dismiss Sam.

“I had to talk to my dad. About you.” Blaine’s eyes were huge and round and so, so green, as he curled in on himself, shoulders hunched and knees drawn up to his chest.

“No, Blaine, it’s okay.” Kurt didn’t touch people, as a general rule. He slept with the occasional beautiful boy who was willing, shook hands with foreign dignitaries and opponents, but for the most part, he avoided physical contact.  But Blaine, Kurt wanted to touch Blaine all over. He didn’t even think about it before he started to stroke Blaine’s neck, pressing his fingers in and working out the tense knots.

“He’s going to give you your own room.” Kurt told him quietly, feeling Blaine relax under his fingers.

“Why would he do that? I’m just a slave. A slave everyone believes killed his master.” Kurt didn’t miss the way Blaine’s voice hitched on the last word, and not for the first time that day, wondered how Blaine could possibly grieve for the man who had abused him for so long.

“He knows you’re innocent, and so do I. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” Blaine’s eyes fluttered closed, though he still seemed unconvinced. Kurt wondered how he was supposed to explain.

“I’m not a very nice person, not really. I’m prickly and selfish and my dad gives me anything I want because he’s terrified of losing me.” It sounded awful, phrasing it bluntly like that, but Kurt knew it had needed to be said. “My mom died when I was born. They tell me it was quick, and it wouldn’t have hurt, she just bled. Apparently I look like her, I think that’s the hardest on my dad. Even with Carole and Finn, he still has me as a constant reminder of what he lost.”

Blaine turned then, Kurt’s fingers falling away from his neck as he leaned into his side, their combined weight pushing them down into the pillows.

“You say these awful things about yourself, but they aren’t true. I’m sure your father is happy to see so much of your mother in you.” Kurt smiled at that.

“He never disagrees with me. He always lets me have what I want. He never punishes me when I do something wrong, sometimes I even do things on purpose just to see if he will. I wish he could just be a normal dad, like he is with Finn. Not like I’m made of porcelain or something.”

“It can’t just be because of your mother then.” Blaine said softly, tipping his chin up to look at Kurt properly. “What else was there?”

“When I was eight, there was an assassination attempt.” Kurt pointed to the thin pink scar on his neck. “It didn’t heal properly and I got sick. They said it was a miracle I survived.” Blaine’s fingers tickled as they trace along the raised line, and Kurt couldn’t help but squirm away, stifling his laughter. “Things started getting... difficult after that. I wasn’t like other boys. I didn’t like any of the things Finn liked, even though were were only a year apart. It took me a while to figure out what that meant, and when I did, I didn’t want to admit it. I’m the prince, I’m supposed to marry a nice girl, have a few kids with her and then become king. I’m not supposed to like boys. So I got mean, and even when I told my dad the truth, I was still mean.”

“You’re not mean. You were kind to me, and people are never kind to me.” Blaine reminded him, wiggling closer into Kurt’s side again, apparently unwilling to leave even an inch between them.

“I am mean though. I don’t let people in. You know what my favourite thing to say was for years? That I was going to abdicate. I didn’t even mean it, I just liked the way people reacted.” Blaine ghosted a kiss against his shoulder.

“But you’re not like that anymore. I can tell.”

“My dad got sick. He’s okay now but for a while there everyone was preparing for my coronation. I was fifteen and I wasn’t ready to lose my dad. I wasn’t ready to be king. So when he got better I promised myself I’d be better too, and I am. Mostly.”

“But you still hate being treated differently.” Blaine murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, and Kurt wasn’t surprised, the sleep he’d had earlier had clearly not been very restful.

“I’m thankful for it today. While you’re here I know you’re safe, I know no-one will hurt you.”

Kurt had learned a lot about grief in his short life. He learned from his father that time only dulled the pain, it didn’t erase it. He learned from his mother that never knowing someone didn’t make their loss any easier to bear. Blaine was teaching him it didn’t always make sense.

“Grieving is difficult. Give him time.” Carole informed Kurt after dinner one night, sweeping a hand down his arm in one of the motherly gestures she always seemed to be bestowing on him.

“It’s been three weeks Carole, I don’t know if he’ll get ever past it.” Carole smiled knowingly.

“Three weeks is nothing sweetheart, not after a lifetime. Burt grieved for years.” She hummed quietly to herself as she began to sew another section of the large embroidery she’d begun work on recently.

“I don’t- how could you bear it though? You married him even though you knew he still loved someone else?” Kurt tried to understand how Carole could bear such a burden. He knew she’d married his father only two months after his mother had died and Finn had been born less than a year later, but he’d never given much thought to the idea that she may not have married for love.

“I knew he was a good man, I knew he’d never stop loving Elizabeth, and I knew you needed a mother. How could I have said no?” Kurt wrinkled his nose.

“I would have.” He admitted, watching as Carole stuck the needle into the cloth and turned to look at him directly.

“Kurt, one day you’re going to realise you love someone, no matter what their past was, or how hard you’re going to have to work for a future with them. Love doesn’t make sense, we don’t get to pick it, and lord knows life would be easier if we did!” She chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now why don’t you go see Blaine, and think about what I said okay?”

Kurt nodded and rose to leave, her words still echoing in his head. They didn’t leave him for the rest of the night.