Kurt woke with a start in the early hours of the morning, draped over the side of Blaine’s bed, at the sound of the bedchamber door closing a little too loudly. Upon opening his eyes and seeing who had come to pay Blaine a visit, he nearly jumped twenty feet in the air and quickly scrambled to his feet.

“Your M-majesty,” Kurt stuttered, hurriedly dipping into a low bow and then looking nervously at the imposing figure before him. “I, um, I’ll just go and give you p-privacy with your son,” Kurt said, bowing again and trying to dash out of the room, knowing it would be the first time he left it in over a week.

“Be still,” the King commanded in a quiet, but firm, voice. Kurt froze and turned to look at Blaine’s father with wide eyes. “It was you who I wished to speak with.”

“Oh,” Kurt breathed, stepping back from the door and nodding. The King gestured for Kurt to take a seat in one of the many armchairs that had taken up residence in Blaine’s bedchamber for the many guests who came to see him. Glancing over at Blaine to make sure he could still see the careful rise and fall of his chest, Kurt sat down and watched as the King did the same.

It was quiet for a full minute as the King observed Kurt and Kurt did everything in his power to avoid looking back at the King. He was intimidating from far away, but being this close to him was positively nerve-wracking, especially when word of the romance between he and Blaine was spreading slowly throughout the castle.

Finally, the King cleared his throat to speak.

“You love my son.”

It was not a question.

Kurt stared at the man with eyes as big and round as saucers, but he did not say anything.

“And he loves you.”

Kurt remained quiet, unsure how to respond to the King’s impassive facial features.

At last, the King sighed quietly and settled back in his seat. “I love my son very much, though sometimes I am far too occupied by my love for this country to see that what I am doing to him is killing him. It has nearly killed him, look.”

Kurt looked.

But he still did not speak.

Blaine’s father tore his eyes away from his son and turned them back towards Kurt, who met his gaze timidly. Kurt tried his best to appear fearless and confident, but he was trembling nonetheless. Would the King banish him from Dalton now?

“Your father wrote to me,” the King said, and they were the last words Kurt had ever expected to hear coming from his mouth.

“We agreed that it was time for a new era in our great lands of Dalton and McKinley, and that love is something that should never be denied from a person,” said the King, his eyes growing softer with each word as Kurt sat there, overwhelmed in his amazement. “Rather than my son marrying your sister, Princess Rachel, we have decided that the alliance would be equally effective if Prince Blaine and yourself were joined in holy matrimony and the two of you ruled together over the joined countries of Dalton and McKinley.”

Kurt thought he hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”

The side of the King’s mouth flickered upwards in a small smile, an expression Kurt had rarely seen on the man’s face before.

“But- the joined countries? You mean. . . ? What about my sister?”

“Ah, yes, the rebel Princess,” said the King, not unkindly. “Your father also sends word that your sister has had a successful audition with a McKinley theatre troupe called the New Directions. I have sent my congratulations,” he explained, and Kurt’s face broke out into a huge smile. “It does seem as though this world is going in a whole new direction, doesn’t it?”

Kurt nodded and stood up with the King, shaking his hand.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you,” Kurt said, bowing gracefully. “I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

“Oh, I have no fears about that,” replied the King, opening the door to Blaine’s bedchamber. “Oh, and Kurt?”

“Yes?” Kurt turned back around from where he was headed back to Blaine’s bedside.

“Take care of my son.”

“Will do, your majesty,” Kurt said with a grin. The King smiled again, a strange thing to see, and then left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Letting out an incredulous laugh, Kurt dropped to his knees by Blaine’s bedside, grasping the hand closest to him to his heart. The skin was slightly warmer now, and Kurt could see that Blaine was breathing normally now.

And then, without pretense, the Prince of Dalton stirred.

“Blaine!” Kurt whispered, clutching the boy’s hand more tightly in his own.

A gentle squeeze answered his.

“Blaine, I’m here. It’s me. It’s Kurt,” Kurt breathed, gazing in awe at the figure below him, waiting for the moment when his eyes would flicker open and reveal eyes the color of the sun once more. “Everything is going to be okay. Wake up.”

And because Blaine knew that Kurt would never lie, he gently lifted his heavy eyelids and cast a golden light on their world.