Dearest Aunt Santana and her wife, Lady Brittany, the scrawl on the letter read. I am writing to beg for the assistance of McKinley’s greatest Healers. I love both of you so dearly, and I have faith that if anyone could help me, it would be the two of you. I have no doubt that you have heard the news. He is close to death, and I hope you understand that such a thing means that I am, too. I cannot go on living in a world where he no longer exists. But, I do not want to die. And I do not want him to die. Please, as the most skilled alchemists of your time, give me something to fix him. I fear I will never feel happiness again in my life, or what short days I have left of it until my lover leaves me. With loving thoughts, your nephew, Prince Kurt Elizabeth Hummelberry of McKinley.

Santana, the fiery Duchess and sister to the late Queen of McKinley, set down the letter with a trembling hand. Behind her, Lady Brittany placed her hands on her shoulders to steady her. 

The lovers said nothing, only stared at the messy scrawl before them that had once been neat and tidy. Santana wanted to cry, which was something Brittany knew that Santana never did. The aunts had spent a large portion of their lives caring for both Kurt and Rachel after the death of their mother. And while Rachel had grown to no longer need their guidance, Kurt had always come to the two women to ask for advice.

They could not lose their nephew, their sweet boy.

Brittany squeezed Santana’s strong shoulders.

“Well,” Santana said, dabbing lightly below her eyes to ensure no tears had escaped. “I supposed we should get to work.”

Meanwhile, Rachel Hummelberry was on the prowl. She had heard the news of what happened to Blaine and what would soon happen to Kurt. She had also been told at dinner last night by Santana and Brittany that they had a new medicine brewing. Also, Duke Finn was safe and the war was nearly over, as King St. James had vastly underestimated the power of the combined armies of Dalton and McKinley.

Rachel had faith.

Rachel knew, more strongly than anyone, that a future of happiness was set into stone.

And so she requested an audience with her father, curled up in one of his many white leather chairs and sat lazily with him in the afternoon sun, watching the high tide slowly creep up the sand on the beach below.

“You do not need to tell me anything, sweetheart,” replied the burly, kind-eyed man, the King of McKinley. “I have contacted the King of Dalton. In the event of Prince Blaine’s death, the alliance will remain on a strictly military basis. In the event of Prince Blaine’s recovery, a negotiation will be made on. . . different terms.”

Rachel eyed her father. “Meaning. . .?”

The King chuckled, despite the worry that plagued his mind night and day surrounding his only son. “Meaning that I will accept no alliance unless Kurt and Blaine are married and ruling over Dalton. And you, little one, will be Queen of McKinley.”

At that, Rachel cleared her throat nervously and shifted in her seat.

But, the King of McKinley was a very smart man.

“Ah, yes, the New Directions.”

Rachel’s head shot up at the mention of her dream. “I met them yesterday, father. I went to one of their shows and introduced myself to their lead, a wonderful young woman named Mercedes. We spoke for quite a while, and they were very honored that I was such a big fan.” Rachel paused, and looked pleadingly at their father before continuing. “Half of them nearly fainted when I expressed my desire to join them.”

The King of McKinley placed his chin in his palm and turned to face the golden sunlight pouring in from the gigantic window. The castle of Dalton did not have windows like that, for the cold winds and winter storms would break them into pieces. That is why Rachel could only stand to spend her time in the gardens at Dalton, rather than be blocked from the sun in the stone castle.

“I am afraid that, at this time, such a thing is not possible for you,” the King finally said, and Rachel felt her heart sinking in her chest. “It causes me great pain to say so, but you have no other siblings, which means there are no other heirs. McKinley will need a Queen, dearest, and you are the only one fit to do it, as our sweet Kurt will certainly be ruling Dalton alongside Prince Blaine.”

The King’s confidence about the situation of Kurt and Blaine, despite the King of Dalton’s narrow-mindedness and occasional cruelty, delighted Rachel.

And Rachel was a very smart girl. She knew what she wanted and she knew what had to be done in order for her to achieve her dreams.

Above all else, Princess Rachel Hummelberry was an extremely ambitious girl.

Perhaps it was even her best quality.

“But, father,” Rachel said, almost timidly, as if she were afraid of the reaction she might get to suggesting such a thing. “What if Kurt and Blaine were to rule over both Dalton and McKinley?”

Elsewhere, in the dark country of Carmel, a young blond woman clutched a trembling hand to her cheek, which had just been slapped by the vicious hand of her father, King St. James.

“You are a disgrace to this country, Quinn,” spat the old, ugly man.

Blinking against the torrent of tears desperately yearning to be released from her eyes, and trying to retain all regal dignity she could, Quinn walked hurriedly away from her father’s study. She held her hands around her middle, as if to comfort the small child that was slowly growing inside of her.