Holy water cannot help you now

A thousand armies couldn't keep me out

I don't want your money

I don't want your crown

See I've come to burn your kingdom down

The cold wind brushes softly against Kurt's cheek and through the thin fabric of his clothes, the suit and cloak now replaced by their patched predecessors. He shivers but doesn't move. Up on the roof, he can see high above the tops of the trees and watch as the oaks seem to roll on endlessly, all standing tall and scratching the sky with their bare branches. Usually, he climbs up here to watch the stars, but today the night sky is veiled by clouds that deny the sky any sort of light.

In all honesty, this would be the perfect time for an angsty inner monologue regarding the utter cruelty of the universe and the injustice of life. The perfect time for contemplation of the irrationality of love and the inescapable truth that everything usually falls to shit.

Kurt doesn't do any of that though.

He resolves to keep his mind blank and his blue eyes fixed on the rolling horizon.

Last night was just a dream.

A very, very good dream.

But just a dream, and now dawn approaches.

Kurt exhales and pulls his legs up to his chest. It's freezing. Even the birds have decided to stay curled up in their nests so the forest is silent. The quietness is like a blanket and Kurt revels in it, allowing himself to be lost in the still air until his fingers grow numb.

A snap breaks the silence and Kurt blinks, looking confusedly down below.

There is more snapping and rustling, and with narrowed eyes, Kurt carefully climbs down to the ground, landing lightly. He takes a couple hesitant steps forward and freezes when he recognizes the figures of two men in the trees.

"Hello? Who are you? What are you doing here?" he calls out, slowly moving towards them.

They are clad lightly, clearly intending to go unnoticed. Surprised at his voice, they spin and assess him carefully. They glance at each other and then in a slide of steel are charging at him.

Eyes widening, Kurt ducks one man's swing and barrels into him, pushing him to the ground. He swings his fist back and punches him in the jaw leaving the man dazed. He drops his sword and after hitting him again, Kurt scrambles for it, struggling to grasp it. When he finally gets a grip on the hilt, he stabs the blade downward into the man's thrashing chest.

He doesn't have time to fully comprehend what he's done before he hears the other man approaching from behind. Swiftly, he rises and sidesteps, turning to face his opponent. The stranger sword feels unusual in his hands, heavier than his own, but it's all he has.

He lifts it just in time to block the man's attack, the blades clashing together in a crack of ringing metal. Kurt swings down to cut through the man's defenses, but the attacker deflects the blow and pushes Kurt back. Adrenaline pulsing through his veins, Kurt charges in a flurry of cuts and jabs, deftly stepping in and out of his opponent's feeble thrusts, driving him back. The sword slips out of the man's hands and he stumbles backward. With a shout, Kurt slams the hilt of his sword into the man's head, leaving him disoriented.

Kurt shoves the man against a tree, pinning him against it with a strong elbow. Panting, he presses the blade against the man's throat.

"Who are you?" Kurt spits, blue eyes flashing.

The man looks up at him, "Please, please don't. I'm just a scout."

Kurt looks at him confused, but doesn't relax his grip, "A scout for who?"

"Maleficent," the man coughs. "Her army is marching on the castle. I don't know anything, I swear. I'm just checking to see if there are patrols that could warn Eleweth of her approach. I'm just a scout, please. Please, don't hurt me."

"Kurt!"

The prince sneaks a glance over his shoulder and sees the three fairies stumbling outside, running towards him with sacks slung over their narrow shoulders.

Flora rushes ahead of the others, her red gown trailing in the mud and clinging to the morning dew. Hair falls from her upswept bun, the wisps fluttering in the chill breeze. Her face hardens when she sees the helpless scout.

"Kurt, he'll tell her where we are. Who you are," she says coldly.

Biting his lip, Kurt nods his head quickly, the hand holding the sword against the man's throat shaking slightly. He steels himself and gives the man a necklace of scarlet rubies, stepping away and allowing the body to crumple to the ground and stain the roots with red.

Quickly, he turns and jogs over to the fairies. They watch him silently.

"Kurt..." Fauna begins.

He waves her off. "Stop. Please," he commands flatly.

Flora clears her throat, "We have to go up to the palace. Maleficent's men will be scattered in the woods. It isn't safe."

Meriwether nods and pushes Kurt's weapons into his hands. After slinging the quiver across his shoulder and buckling the sword to his hip, Kurt holds his bow tightly and looks down at the fairies.

"Can't you just zap us to the palace?" he asks.

Meriwether shakes her head, "Maleficent will be able to sense any use of magic. She's too close. We'll have to go on foot."

Kurt nods and follows the fairies into the trees, weaving through them with light feet.

After they disappear, another man concealed behind the thick trunk of an oak smiles before he slinks back into the shadows.

The army isn't hard to find. They're so noisy. The scout slips through the guards and silently sneaks into Maleficent's tent.

"My lady," he drops to his knees.

Maleficent looks down at him as she strokes the feathers of her raven absentmindedly. "What?"

The scout looks up at the sorceress, a grin breaking across his face. "I saw him, my Lady. Prince Kurt."

Eyes widening, Maleficent rises to her feet. "Where?"

"In the forest, in a cottage in the glade. He killed two other scouts but didn't see me. He's with the three fairies. But they're fleeing to the castle."

The sorceress smiles, hardly able to believe this stroke of luck. "That's alright. As long as he's within the walls, I'll be close enough to work my spell. You have done well." She strides over to a chest and pulls out a small stone, handing it to the man. "This will help me find you should I have to. Keep it on your person and don't you dare lose it. Take two dozen men and return to this cottage. If the little prince runs back there, we'll be ready."

The man nods and slips out of the tent.

Maleficent watches him leave and once alone, laughs shortly. Finally.

She's finally going to win.

Holy water cannot help you now

See I've come to burn your kingdom down

And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out

I'm gonna raise the stakes, I'm gonna smoke you out

Time passes in a silence broken by boots crunching in the snow and breaths that summon little puffs of smoke. Kurt shivers, pulling his cloak tighter around him but he doesn't stop, continuing to follow the fairies into the darkness.

After what feels like hours, the darkness solidifies into an imposing wall of stone. Having memorized this route, the fairies instinctively scurry to the secret entrance especially designed for them. Kurt slips through behind them and instinctively pulls the cowl of the cloak to conceal his face as they suddenly step onto the cobble stoned streets.

The bells of Eleweth are ringing and soldiers run through the dark streets, banging on doors and waking the townsfolk. The city is startled awake and flickering torches are lighted, peasants and nobles alike stepping outside, wrapped in blankets, blinking the sleep from their eyes.

"Volunteers! We need any man who can wield a sword or shoot a bow at the walls! Help defend your city! Volunteers this way!" a soldier calls out. "Volunteers!"

Men of every age and every status rush out their doors in borrowed armor and hunting bows, running through the slick streets while the snow falls gently around them.

The three fairies are lost in their determination, their eyes fixed on the castle as they turn into a cramped alleyway. Kurt hesitates, watching as they march ahead. Ahead to his father, his stepmother and stepbrother, his home....Ahead to a locked room with guards posted at every entrance while men outside die for him.

Kurt turns around after a lingering look at the fairies. He runs through the streets and down to the man calling for volunteers.

"I'd like to volunteer," Kurt pants breathlessly once he reaches him.

The man looks him up and down with a smile. "You have the gratitude of the King, lad."

Not likely, Kurt thinks.

"Can you use that bow?"

Kurt glances down at the longbow in his hands, "Yes, sir."

"Then you go up to the archery units on the walls," the man says as he paints a blue spot on Kurt's shirt, "someone will give you armor and more arrows should you need." The man thrusts a quill and parchment into Kurt's hands, "Now, can you please write your name on the lists, lad?"

After a moment, Kurt scratches onto the parchment, Truk Lemmuh.

"Thank you. Hurry along now."

Kurt nods and follows a group of soldiers and innkeepers down to the wall.

There is a flurry of activity bustling about the wall and upon seeing the blue mark on his shirt, a soldier ushers Kurt to his assigned unit. Exhaling, Kurt looks at the stairs that lead to the top of the battlements. He climbs up without hesitation and takes his place between a soldier with a crossbow and a grocer with a suit of borrowed armor.

And now all your love will be exorcised
And we will find you saints to be cannonized
And it's an even sum
It's a melody
It's a battle cry
It's a symphony

"Prince Blaine. Blaine. Wake up."

Blaine's eyes flash open and he's looking into the frantic face of a soldier.

"Prince Blaine. The King requires your presence."

Blaine sits up with a groan, rubbing his eyes sleepily, "What time is it?"

"Not yet dawn."

Something must be wrong. Blaine shoots out of his bed, and still in an untucked tunic and breeches, pulls on his boots and rushes out of his tent behind the soldier.

The camp is still asleep, the soldiers curled up in their blankets to ward off the chill. Blaine leaves the soldier behind and runs ahead, weaving through the slumbering bodies and the tents. A horse whinnies in the distance but other than that, the night is silent. Normal.

What is happening? Blaine thinks, as he finally reaches his father's tent, rushing inside.

King Anderson looks up from his position amidst his generals and sees his son rushing inside with his unruly curls, still in his sleep attire but hazel eyes alert. He still looks like a toddler and the King is surprised to feel a rush of affection for him.

"My Lord? What's wrong?" Blaine asks concerned.

"This kingdom is being attacked by some witch by the name of Maleficent. She will reach the castle in a matter of hours. And as allies, we have a duty to help King Burt fight this threat."

Blaine nods and straightens, running his fingers through his hair. Time to work. "What would you have me do my lord?"

"Get dressed and wake the soldiers. Prepare for battle. There is no room for our soldiers on the battlements, and we cannot leave the horses, so the cavalry will fight on the ground and Burt's archers will cover from above."

"I will be leading them of course, right?" Blaine affirms but the King is hesitant, so he moves closer and says softly, "Father, most of the cavalry are men from my unit."

Finally, the King nods and sets his jaw, "Of course. I'll be with King Burt. Traditional defensive for now, and we'll change the strategy once we find out more. Just keep them away from the walls."

Blaine bows sharply and turns to exit.

"Oh and Blaine?" The King calls.

"Yes my lord?"

King Anderson moves closer, and speaks quietly so that only Blaine can hear, "Be careful."

Surprised, Blaine smiles, "I will Father.

The King nods and steps back, clearing his throat. "Then you're dismissed."

Blaine bows again and ducks out of the tent. He shouts orders to soldiers on guard to wake the others, and soon the sounds of clanging bells can be heard amidst the camp.

Like any practiced soldier, he is washed and suited within minutes, a fellow soldier helping him secure the last bits of his dark armor. He clasps a scarlet cloak to his shoulders and buckles his sword belt, pulling on leather gloves beneath black arm guards as he steps outside the tent. Outside is a flurry of action as men prepare for battle. The bells of the Eleweth ring loudly and he sees their men, armored in silver, run down from the castle and take their place on the walls. Those rare units with horses gallop down and join Arenor's soldiers who are beginning to assemble beside the gate.

The sky is painted a pale shade of grey, the canvas splattered with light anywhere the young dawn shines through. The smell of cold creeps into his nostrils and he takes a deep breath before exhaling, his hot breath turning into frozen smoke as it floats in the brittle air.

Every soldier here is well trained, and most hurry to their duties. Whether it's packing up the camp or preparing the horses for battle, each goes about his work diligently and quickly. Fires are set up to provide light, and are increasingly required to be lit as the snow falls heavier and heavier. As Blaine approaches the gates where the men are lining up, his heart constricts. This is really happening.

A soldier jogs over to him, handing him the reins of his horse. He takes them from him gratefully, adjusting the saddle, tightening it to make sure it does not slip. The horse fidgets, sidestepping agitatedly, startled by the action all around. He shushes it quietly, gently stroking his gloved hand across its grey-white neck until it calms.

Blaine smoothly mounts his horse, sitting tall. He's always so much more comfortable on horseback.

Spurring his horse forward, Blaine gallops past the waiting soldiers who bow their heads in respect. He nods at his men and rides to the head of the column, where Sam is waiting, a quiver strapped to his back and another strapped to his saddle.

"Are you ready?" Blaine asks. Sam nods, and Blaine shouts, "Open the gates!"

The tall doors swing open, opening onto the world outside. The plain ahead of them is cold and bare, the snow gently coating it in a soft layer of frozen down. And still it falls, lingering on the plates of the soldiers' armor and hiding in the crevices of their helmets.

The generals ride forward, leading the cavalry outside the walls and onto the plain. The cold grass crunches between the horse hooves, but everything is quiet.

"Line up!" Blaine orders, his voice carrying over the assembled ranks.

He clicks his tongue and rides to the front of the centre unit, two generals on either side of him. With a nod at his friend, Sam turns to take the western side and Wes takes the east. The generals beside Blaine watch the two men leave, each flanked by two other generals to take command should they fall. But Blaine simply stares straight ahead. His heart thuds and the hands holding the reigns tremble slightly. Breathe. He shifts in his saddle and hazel eyes search the horizon for the first glimpse of an army emerging from the white.

Dawn blankets the waiting defense in stuttering rays of sunlight, illuminating the soldiers' frozen breath. Waiting is a terrifying anticipation, creeping inside the soldiers like poison and settling fear in their hearts, startling them at every interruption of the silence.

A shiver.

A breath rattling in a throat.

The creak of a bow string, pulled taunt by a shaking hand.

A horse snorting, pawing the ground with its hooves.

As minutes pass, Blaine scans the dark with impatient eyes. "What are you waiting for?" he murmurs under his breath. He looks up at the tall castle walls. "Do you see anything?" he shouts.

After a moment a reply echoes down, "Nothing," a voice calls from the battlements. Blaine relaxes when suddenly the voice speaks again, "Wait."

Heart constricting, Blaine looks up and sees a tall and slender silhouette lean over and peer into the night. The figure draws back as if burned and disappears from Blaine's sight, but he can still hear the yell, cracking across the silence, "They're here!"

Seven devils all around you

Seven devils in your house

See I was dead when I woke up this morning

And I'll be dead before the day is done

Before the day is done