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Chapter Text

The palace was awash with gold that morning.

King Burt Hummel had invited the kingdom to celebrate his son’s christening, and nobles from near and far crowded the great hall. Baby Kurt, tiny and pink, lay swaddled in silk. Burt never let him out of his arms for long, kissing the boy’s forehead with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his broad frame.

Three women stood at the altar. Isabelle Wright, elegant as dawn. Maggie Banks, rosy and kind. And Sue Sylvester, who had somehow bullied her way into fairy-godmotherhood.

“May he be blessed with grace, song, and a heart filled with kindness,” Isabelle intoned, sprinkling glittering light.

“May he never waste time with idiots,” Sue muttered, flicking her wand like it was a javelin.

Laughter rippled through the court—until the hall doors slammed open. A chill swept through the chamber.

“Did you really think you could celebrate without inviting me?” June Dolloway swept inside, cloak trailing like smoke. Her son Blaine trailed at her heels, curls immaculate, expression smug.

Burt stiffened, clutching Kurt closer. “You weren’t wanted here.”

“First my son was unwanted as a betrothed, now this?” June’s smile was sharp as glass. “Then you’ll have my gift, whether you wish it or not.” She raised her hands. Shadows gathered. “Before the sun sets on his sixteenth birthday, your precious son shall prick his finger on a spinning wheel… and die.”

Gasps echoed.

“No!” Burt roared.

But Maggie stepped forward, her voice steady. “The curse is strong, but not unbreakable. He will not die. He shall sleep until awakened by true love’s kiss.”

June’s laughter was cold. “True love? Foolish fantasy.” She vanished in a plume of black smoke, Blaine waving like a prince at a parade before following.

The hall was silent except for Kurt’s soft, oblivious coo.

Burt kissed his son’s head again, stroking his tiny fingers and vowing silently: I’ll keep you safe, no matter what it takes.

Chapter Text

Safety turned out to be a honeysuckle cottage deep in the forest, cozy and warm, but where no roads reached. Kurt grew there, unaware of the curse shadowing him.
His three “aunties” raised him with love—if unconventional.

Isabelle taught him grace: how to sew a perfect seam, how to carry himself with elegance. Maggie taught him warmth: baking cherry pies, tending flowers, coaxing birds to land on his hands. Sue taught him swordsmanship. “Because, Porcelain, the world is full of morons, and if one tries to kiss you without permission, you better be ready to cut him down.”
Kurt loved them all, but as he grew older, he felt the ache of loneliness. He saw no boys his age, no friends to confide in. He sang to the trees, danced with shadows, baked pies that no one but his aunties ate.

And sometimes, at night, when the stars burned bright, he whispered to the sky: Please. Send me someone. Someone who sees me.

He never expected an answer.

———

The basket of berries was heavier than Kurt had expected. He shifted it on his hip, singing softly to himself. The sound filled the clearing, blending with birdsong and the whisper of leaves.

At least the forest doesn’t complain when I sing, Kurt thought wryly, brushing hair from his forehead. Not like Auntie Sue…

He bent to pluck a final handful of wild strawberries, when a voice—not his own—rose through the trees. Low, warm, and carrying the exact melody still tickling his tongue.

Kurt froze. No one comes out here. No one. His heart fluttered. He straightened slowly, clutching the basket like a shield. The voice grew closer. Then the bushes parted. And there he was.

Golden hair catching the sunlight, broad shoulders in a simple tunic, an easy grin that lit his entire face. The boy stopped when he saw Kurt, as if the forest itself had held its breath. “Oh,” he said, a little breathless. “Hi.”

Kurt’s throat went dry. The boy looked like he’d stepped out of one of Maggie’s storybooks.

Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t— “…Hello,” Kurt managed, voice steady only through sheer will.

The boy shifted awkwardly, then smiled again, softer this time. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I heard you singing and couldn’t help but join in. You have a beautiful voice. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else out here.”

“I live here,” Kurt blurted. Smooth. Very smooth. The boy’s eyebrows rose.

“In the forest? Alone?”

“I—” Kurt hesitated.

The godmothers had always told him not to reveal too much. “Not alone. With… family.”

The boy nodded, like that made perfect sense. Then he tilted his head. “I’m Sam.” “Kurt.” His name slipped out before he could stop it. Something about Sam’s open smile disarmed him. Sam grinned wider. “Nice to meet you, Kurt.” And for some reason, Kurt’s stomach flipped.

⸻

They walked together through the clearing, conversation stumbling at first, then easing. Sam asked about the forest; Kurt showed him where the wild roses bloomed thickest. Kurt asked where Sam came from; Sam shrugged. “Nearby village,” he lied easily.

Kurt stole glances when he thought Sam wouldn’t notice. The way sunlight caught in his hair. The warmth in his hazel eyes. The way he moved with such ease, as if he belonged everywhere. He’s… beautiful. The thought struck Kurt like lightning. He ducked his head quickly, cheeks burning.

Sam, meanwhile, was fighting his own battle. Kurt’s voice was soft, melodic, his laugh like music. He moved with a kind of unstudied grace Sam had never seen in another boy. Sam found himself wanting—needing—to hear more, to make Kurt laugh again.

“So,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “Do you, uh… come here often?”

Kurt blinked at him. Then, despite himself, he laughed.

“Did you just use the oldest line in the book on me?”

Sam’s ears went red. “Maybe.”

Kurt shook his head, still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

But he didn’t let go of the smile.

⸻

As the sun dipped lower, Sam walked him back toward the cottage path. “Will I… see you again?” Sam asked, scratching the back of his neck.

Kurt hesitated. His aunts wouldn’t approve. But something inside him—something that had been lonely for far too long—overrode his caution. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow. Same place?”
Sam’s grin lit the whole forest. “I’ll be here.”

As they parted, Kurt clutched his berry basket to his chest, heart hammering. What just happened?

Sam, walking back through the trees, thought only: I don’t know who he is. But I already want to see him again.

Chapter Text

Kurt woke before dawn, restless. He tossed in his bed, staring up at the beams of the cottage ceiling. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying the same moments: Sam’s grin when he’d said “See you tomorrow”, the way his green eyes had seemed to soften when Kurt laughed, the sound of his voice humming through the trees.
Stop it, Kurt scolded himself, sitting up. He’s just… a boy you met. Nothing more. But his chest disagreed. His chest was full of something restless and bright, something that made him want to do something. To show Sam… what? That he was grateful? That he was glad they’d met?

In the kitchen, Maggie found him rummaging through jars of preserves.

“You’re up early.”

“No reason,” Kurt said, too quickly. His hands trembled slightly as he measured flour into a bowl. Maggie’s eyes twinkled knowingly.

“No reason at all. Just decided the forest was in dire need of… pie?”

Kurt stiffened. “It’s a perfectly normal pastime.”

“Mm-hm.” Maggie kissed his cheek. “Enjoy your berry picking later, sweetheart.” Kurt ignored her, cheeks pink, and set to work.

⸻

By noon, the pie was finished. Golden crust, latticed perfectly. Cherries glistening like jewels beneath a dusting of sugar. Kurt stared at it, nerves tangling in his stomach. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he thinks it’s silly? But the thought of seeing Sam again propelled him forward.
He carried the still-warm pie carefully through the forest, arriving at their clearing just as Sam appeared from the opposite side. Sam stopped dead. His eyes went wide. “Whoa.”

Kurt shifted the pie awkwardly. “It’s… it’s just a cherry pie. I thought you might—”

“You made this? For me?” Sam’s voice was incredulous.

Kurt’s face burned. “Yes. But it’s nothing—”

Sam laughed, warm and full. “Kurt, no one’s ever… no one’s ever baked me something before.” His grin softened into something gentler, something Kurt didn’t quite know how to name. “This is… amazing.”

Kurt blinked at him. “It’s only pastry.”

“It’s you,” Sam said quietly, before he could stop himself.

Kurt tilted his head, not sure he understood. But his heart did a strange, soaring leap.

⸻

They sat in the grass, sharing slices straight from the dish. Sam groaned at the first bite.
“Okay, this is officially the best pie I’ve ever had.”

Kurt couldn’t help but smile. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Nope. Top tier. Legendary. The kind of pie songs should be written about.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but his cheeks hurt from smiling. “You’re ridiculous.” “Ridiculously lucky,” Sam said under his breath.

Kurt didn’t catch it. He was too busy watching the way the sun lit Sam’s hair, too busy trying to ignore the warmth pooling in his chest.

⸻

Later, when they lay back in the grass, staring up at the drifting clouds, Kurt let out a sigh.

“I don’t usually… get to talk to people. Like this.”

Sam turned his head, studying him. “Me neither. Not like this.” Their eyes met. Kurt looked away first, flustered. Sam smiled to himself. He’d thought he was just curious about the beautiful boy in the forest. But lying there, listening to Kurt breathe beside him, he realized something deeper was taking root.

I don’t just want to see him again. I need to.

⸻

That evening, back at the cottage, Isabelle arched an eyebrow at Kurt’s dreamy expression. Sue muttered something about “hormonal nonsense.”

But Kurt only hummed softly to himself, thinking of Sam’s smile.

Chapter Text

The cherry pie had been only the beginning. After that day, Kurt and Sam fell into an unspoken rhythm: meeting each afternoon in their secret clearing, each time slipping further into a world that belonged to them alone.

⸻

Day One: The Lake

Kurt hesitated on the bank, tugging at the ties of his shirt. “This seems impractical.” Sam was already shirtless (Kurt gaping helplessly) and waist-deep in the water, grinning like a fool.

“It’s fun. Come on, you’ll love it.”

“I will most certainly not love getting soaked,” Kurt retorted—just as Sam sent a splash of water arching in his direction. It hit his sleeve with a splat. Kurt gasped.

“Did you just—”

Sam laughed, slinging another handful of water. “Guess you’ll have to come in and make me stop.”
Kurt narrowed his eyes, then kicked off his shoes, carefully removed and folded his shirt and waded in with surprising determination.

“You’re insufferable.”

Minutes later, they were both shrieking and laughing, water flying in every direction. Kurt’s hair clung to his forehead, and Sam thought he’d never seen anything so endearing.

When they finally collapsed on the shore, breathless and dripping, Kurt muttered, “I told you this was impractical.”

Sam, still grinning, said softly, “You look amazing like this.”

Kurt blinked, flustered.

“You’re delirious from the sun.”

But inside, something warm fluttered.

⸻

Day Two: Flowers

Sam showed up carrying a messy bundle of wildflowers. “For you.”
Kurt blinked down at them. “You picked… flowers?”

“I thought you’d like them,” Sam said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “They reminded me of you.”

Kurt’s heart stuttered. “Bright and covered in pollen?”

Sam snorted. “Beautiful.”

Kurt’s cheeks flamed. He quickly turned away, pretending to examine the blossoms. “You’re absurd.”

But when Sam carefully wove them into a crown and set it on Kurt’s head, Kurt caught his reflection in the pond and… sort of believed Sam’s words.

Sam’s pleased smile made it even harder to look away.

⸻

Day Three: Dancing

It started as a joke.
Sam hummed a clumsy tune, reached out a hand. “Dance with me.”

Kurt stared. “There’s no music.”

“There’s always music if you want there to be.”

Against his better judgment, Kurt placed his hand in Sam’s. Sam’s palm was warm, steady. He pulled Kurt close, guiding him through simple steps. Kurt tried to keep his focus on the rhythm, but his thoughts betrayed him.

He’s holding me. He’s smiling like I’m the only one in the world. What do I even do with my hands?
Sam, meanwhile, thought, Don’t let go. Please don’t let go.
They moved in circles under the canopy, laughter spilling out when Sam tripped over a root and nearly sent them both tumbling.

At the end, Kurt pulled back, breathless. “That was ridiculous.”

Sam grinned. “Best dance I’ve ever had.”

⸻

Day Four: Painting

Sam crouched in the grass, sketching with charcoal on a scrap of parchment.

Kurt tilted his head. “You draw?”

“Sort of,” Sam admitted. “Don’t laugh.”

Kurt leaned over to peek—and froze. It was him. Sam had been sketching him. A small smile crept across his face.
“I told you not to laugh,” Sam mumbled, ears red.

“I’m not,” Kurt said softly. His chest felt tight. “It’s…”

Sam chuckled. “Ridiculous?”

“Beautiful.”

Sam looked up, meeting his eyes. For a moment, neither spoke. The air felt thick with something unspoken, something that made Kurt’s pulse race.

⸻

Day Five: Picnic

Kurt surprised Sam with a basket of food: fresh bread, berries, even a small jar of honey.

“You’re spoiling me,” Sam teased, but his voice was gentle. “Someone has to make sure you eat properly,” Kurt muttered, fussing with the napkins to hide his blush.

They sat in the grass, shoulders brushing as they shared bites. When honey dripped onto Kurt’s mouth, Sam instinctively moved to wipe it away—then froze, realizing what he was doing. Kurt quickly brushed his hand over his lips, cheeks aflame.

“Clumsy me.”

Sam swallowed hard. I wanted to kiss him. God help me, I wanted to.

⸻

Day Six: Stars

They lay side by side in the clearing, staring up at the endless sky.

“Do you ever feel,” Kurt whispered, “like there’s something more? Like you’re meant for something bigger, but you don’t know what it is?”

Sam turned his head to study him. “Yeah. All the time.”

Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, neither looked away. Then Kurt blushed and rolled onto his back.

“Well. That’s ridiculous.”

Sam smiled softly into the night.

Not ridiculous at all.

⸻

By the end of the week, they were inseparable.

Kurt had never felt so alive; Sam had never felt so certain. And as they said goodbye on the eve of Kurt’s birthday, Sam clasped his hand tightly.

“Tomorrow. Same place.”

“Tomorrow,” Kurt echoed, heart pounding, as Sam pressed a shy kiss to his cheek.

Neither of them knew it would be the last time they saw each other before everything changed.

Chapter Text

Kurt returned to the cottage glowing. His cheeks ached from smiling, his heart was still racing from the way Sam had clasped his hand at parting. He’d never felt so… seen.

But when he stepped through the door, the mood in the cottage was different. The hearth fire was low. His three godmothers sat at the table, unusually solemn.

“Kurt,” Isabelle said gently, “we need to talk.”

Kurt froze. The last time she’d used that tone was when he’d nearly set the cottage on fire attempting a flambé.

“What did I do?” he asked, placing the empty basket on the counter.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart,” Maggie said, eyes shining with a sorrow that made Kurt’s chest tighten. “But there are things you deserve to know. Things we’ve kept from you.”

Sue leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Brace yourself, Porcelain. It’s about to get weird.”

⸻

They told him everything.

That he was not just a boy of the forest, but the crown prince of the kingdom. That a curse had been laid on him before he could even walk. That on his sixteenth birthday, the curse would fall.

Kurt sat in stunned silence, staring at his hands.

“So I’ve been… hidden. All this time. Because of her.”

“June Dolloway,” Isabelle confirmed softly.

“And you never thought to mention this?” His voice cracked with hurt.

“We wanted you safe,” Maggie said, reaching for his hand. “Safe and happy, for as long as possible.”

Sue snorted. “And look how well that turned out. He’s hormonal, mooning over some blond boy, and now he’s got a curse hanging over his head.”

Kurt flushed. “That’s not— he’s just a friend.”

All three women gave him the exact same look.

Kurt folded his arms, staring at the table. Sam. If I tell him, he’ll never look at me the same way again.

When Isabelle said, “Tomorrow, we take you back to the palace,” Kurt felt his chest clench.

“Tomorrow?” His voice cracked again.

“Yes,” Maggie said firmly. “It’s time.”

Kurt nodded numbly, but inside, he was breaking. I promised him tomorrow. I promised.

⸻

Across the border, another storm was brewing.

Sam stood before his father, fists clenched. “I won’t do it.”

King Evans glared down from his throne. “You will. The betrothal was agreed upon years ago. You’ll marry the boy and unite the kingdoms.”

“I don’t even know him!” Sam shouted. “And I don’t care about alliances - I already found someone. In the woods. He’s the one I love, and I-”

“Enough!” the King thundered. His voice echoed off the stone walls. “You will obey.”

Sam’s pulse roared in his ears. “No. I won’t.”

He stormed from the hall, his father’s fury snapping at his heels.

I don’t care who I’m ‘destined’ for, he thought as he saddled his horse, hands shaking. I already know who I want.

He kicked the horse into a gallop, racing for the forest, desperate to see Kurt again.

⸻

But by the time he arrived at the clearing, it was empty. The air felt strangely still.

Sam dismounted, searching desperately. “Kurt?”

Only silence answered.

His chest ached with panic. Where are you?

⸻

Back at the palace, Kurt lay awake in a bed too soft, too large, staring at the canopy overhead.

He should have been marveling at velvet drapes, at the knowledge of his heritage. Instead, all he could think about was Sam.

Tomorrow. I promised him tomorrow. And now I can’t even say goodbye.

His chest tightened, tears stinging his eyes. He pressed a pillow against his face and whispered, “Sam.”

Chapter Text

The palace halls echoed with footsteps and whispers. Servants bowed as Kurt passed, but their gazes lingered too long, too curious. He wanted to shrink into the walls.

Everything felt wrong. The silken tunic scratched at his skin, the jeweled circlet weighed heavy on his brow. He missed his simple cottage clothes, missed Maggie’s humming in the kitchen, Isabelle’s chatter, Sue’s sarcastic commentary.

Most of all, he missed Sam.

If I close my eyes, I can almost hear him laugh, Kurt thought as he wandered the corridor alone. Right now, he’ll be at the clearing, waiting. And I’m not there.

His chest ached.

⸻

A voice slid like silk through the stillness. “Poor little prince.”

Kurt spun.

A woman stood at the end of the corridor, tall and imposing in a gown the color of midnight. Her eyes glittered with cruel delight.

Kurt’s breath caught. He didn’t need introductions. “You.”

“Me,” June Dolloway purred, stepping closer. “Sixteen years of hiding, and still fate brings you to me.”

Fear surged up his spine. “Stay away from me.”

June only smiled, lifting a pale hand. “Don’t be afraid, sweet boy. I’ve brought you a gift.”

Behind her, in a shadowed chamber, something gleamed: a spinning wheel, its spindle glinting like a fang.

Kurt’s feet moved without his consent, as if drawn forward.

“No,” he whispered, digging his heels in. “I don’t want—”

“You do,” June crooned, her voice thick as honey. “One touch. That’s all. See how the light dances on it? Imagine what it would feel like, just one gentle brush of your finger…”

Kurt’s hand trembled as it rose. His heart pounded, screaming don’t, don’t, don’t. But the magic tugged harder, stronger.

His fingertip brushed the spindle.

Pain flashed white-hot—then nothing.

He collapsed, eyes fluttering shut, the world sliding away.

⸻

At that very moment, in the forest, Sam was yanked from his horse, a homemade birthday card fluttering to the ground beside him.

“Let go!” he shouted, struggling against the sorceress’s guards. They bound his wrists, dragging him to the ground.

June appeared in a shimmer of smoke, her smile triumphant.

“You,” Sam spat, chest heaving. “What did you do to him?”

June’s grin widened. “He sleeps. Thanks to me, the entire kingdom will sleep. And you, charming boy, will never wake him.”

Sam lunged at her, fury blazing. The guards slammed him back to the earth.

June crouched, picked up his card and smirked. “How touching.” She bent lower, her voice a hiss in his ear. “You think you can save him? You can’t. I’ll keep you far from him until the end of time.”

With a flick of her wrist, chains of magic bound him.

Sam thrashed, shouting Kurt’s name into the trees, but the sound was swallowed by darkness.

⸻

Back in the palace, silence fell like a blanket. One by one, servants slumped where they stood. Guards crumpled at their posts. The cooks in the kitchen dropped their spoons mid-stir.

Within minutes, the kingdom was still, as if frozen in time.

All except for Kurt, lying motionless on a velvet bed, his chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of enchanted sleep.

⸻

Fluttering up to Kurt’s chambers, the three fairies froze at the sight of his lifeless form.

Isabelle gasped. “It’s happened.”

Maggie pressed her hands to her mouth. “Oh, my boy.”

Sue slammed a fist on the wall. “I told you we should’ve set her on fire years ago.”

“It’s too late for that now.” Maggie said sadly.

The three women pulled up their hoods and sombrely made their way back to the cottage, each grieving for their surrogate son.

They were making their way through the clearing when Isabelle’s eyes caught on something—a folded white square stamped into the mud.

She pulled it out, her breath catching. It was Kurt, smiling shyly from the page, painted with unmistakable tenderness in the arms of a blonde, waltzing around the very clearing in which she stood.

“Who did this?” she whispered.

Maggie peered over her shoulder. “He’s been meeting someone.”

Sue leaned in, squinting. “Well, open it, dafty.”

Peeling the dirt stained, water-coloured card apart, they were met with uneven, shaky handwriting.

Dear Kurt,

I am wishing you the happyest birthday ever. You are the most amazing and beutiful boy I have ever met, and you make my heart bigger.

I love you forever,

Sam.

Recognition lit in Isabelle’s eyes. “Oh my. That must be Prince Samuel Evans. He’s Kurt’s betrothed.”

The three women exchanged a glance.

Sue straightened, fire blazing in her eyes. “Then we know what to do.”

Chapter Text

Sam’s wrists ached against the enchanted chains. He tugged until his skin was raw, fury burning in his chest. Kurt. I have to get to Kurt.

The guards laughed at his struggle. “You’ll tire yourself out, princeling. The sorceress made sure you’ll never see him again.”

Sam’s heart roared with defiance. Watch me.

⸻

A crackle of magic split the air. The guards were sent flying into the dank stone walls, unconscious.

Sam blinked through the smoke. Three figures stood before him—women, cloaked in power that shimmered like sunlight on water.

“About time,” Sue muttered, snapping her fingers to dissolve the chains.

Sam stared, bewildered. “Who—?”

“We’re his godmothers,” Isabelle said briskly, pulling him to his feet. “And you’re the only one who can save him.”

Maggie’s voice trembled but was steady with determination. “True love is the only cure for the curse. Do you love him?”

Sam didn’t hesitate. “Yes. More than anything.”

The fairies exchanged a look, then Sue shoved a gleaming sword into his hands. “Then let’s get moving, Ken doll. We’ve got a wicked sorceress to roast.”

⸻

The path to the palace was no longer clear. June had woven a forest of brambles around the castle, thorns taller than men, twisting and alive.

Sam stared at the wall of darkness, grip tightening on the sword.

“You can do this,” Isabelle assured him, waving her wand. A shield of light shimmered around his chest. “Our magic will protect you, but it can only be used for good, so this battle must be yours.”

“But only if you fight,” Sue snapped. “And don’t be an idiot. Use the pointy end.”

Maggie smiled. “Good luck, dearie.”

Sam swallowed hard, squared his shoulders, and plunged into the brambles.

⸻

The thorns struck at him like knives, but his blade flashed, cutting them down. His arms ached, his skin stung with scratches, but he pressed forward.

For Kurt. Always for Kurt.

When at last he burst free, the sight before him stole his breath.

June Dolloway towered over the palace gates, her body twisting and reshaping. Scales gleamed black as obsidian, wings unfurled with a thunderous crack. Her roar shook the earth.

Sam froze. “That’s… a dragon.”

“Observant,” Sue muttered from behind him. “Now go kill it, trouty mouth.”

⸻

The battle raged. Fire erupted from June’s jaws, scorching the ground where Sam had stood a heartbeat before. He rolled, raising his shield just in time to deflect the blast. The heat seared his face, but he refused to falter.

He slashed at her tail, dodged the claws that could tear him apart in a single swipe. Every muscle screamed, but his mind burned with a single thought: Get to Kurt.

The fairies lent their strength. Isabelle’s magic turned his shield silver-bright and fire-repellent. Maggie whispered prayers that steadied his aim. Sue shouted insults at the dragon that were so cutting, even June faltered mid-roar.

At last, with a cry that tore from his very soul, Sam drove the sword upward, piercing through scale and shadow, straight into her heart.

June shrieked, a sound that shook the heavens. Her body convulsed, magic unraveling, until she collapsed in a storm of smoke and ash.

Sam staggered back, gasping. His hands shook on the hilt of the sword.

“She’s gone,” Isabelle whispered, voice awed.

“No,” Sam rasped, lifting his eyes to the palace. “Not until Kurt’s  awake.”

⸻

Inside, the kingdom still slept. Sam’s boots echoed on the marble as he ran through silent halls, past slumbering guards, until at last he burst into a chamber.

There he was.

Kurt, lying pale against silken pillows, lips parted in enchanted stillness.

Sam’s heart cracked open. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, trembling fingers brushing Kurt’s hand.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You’ve changed everything. Please, Kurt. Come back.”

He leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to Kurt’s lips.

The world held its breath.

And then—

Kurt stirred. His lashes fluttered. His lips pressed back, faint but real. His eyes opened, meeting Sam’s in stunned confusion.

“…Sam?” His voice was hoarse.

Relief crashed over Sam like a wave. He laughed, half-sob, and pulled Kurt into his arms. “You’re awake. You’re really awake.”

Kurt blinked against his shoulder, realization dawning. “You saved me.”

Sam pulled back just enough to cup his face, eyes fierce with devotion. “Always.”

Their lips met again, this time in a kiss unshadowed by curses or fear—only the pure, blazing joy of true love found.

Chapter Text

The kingdom stirred as life returned to its veins. Servants awoke with bleary eyes, guards stretched stiff limbs, and the air was once again filled with murmurs and the scent of hearth fires. But none felt the change more profoundly than King Burt Hummel.

He had been pacing the palace halls, worry clawing at his chest, when he heard voices—soft, trembling, joyful. He followed them until he reached the chamber.

Kurt. Alive. Awake.

“Dad?” Kurt’s voice was tentative, still unsure of the solidness of reality.

Burt surged forward, scooping him up in a hug that was fierce and trembling at once. “My boy. My baby boy! I thought I’d lost you!”

Kurt clung to him, sobbing softly. “I… I’m okay, Dad. Sam saved me.”

Burt looked past his son to see Sam, standing tall but bloodied from the battle, a hand still gripping the sword that had felled June. “You… did this?” Burt’s voice cracked, awe and gratitude battling within him.

Sam bowed his head slightly. “I did what I had to do, Your Majesty. For Kurt.”

Burt laughed, choked, and then reached out to pull Sam into the hug as well. “Thank you. You’ve brought my boy back to me.”

Kurt squeezed Sam’s hand, eyes shining. “He’s… mine. And I’m his.”

⸻

Later, in the great hall, the kingdom gathered. Isabelle, Maggie, and Sue flitted about, murmuring instructions and muttering over-eager commentary. Kurt and Sam stepped forward together, hands entwined.

“And now,” Isabelle said, voice bright, “you finally know the truth.”

Sam lifted his chin, voice strong. “I am Kurt Hummel’s betrothed. I was destined for him, even before we met.”

Kurt’s eyes went wide. “Wait… really?”

“Yes,” Maggie said, smiling. “And now you get to choose—love him freely, not because of duty, but because you want to.”

Kurt turned to Sam, overwhelmed, heart nearly bursting. “I… I do want to.”

“And I want you,” Sam said simply, brushing a thumb across Kurt’s knuckles.

The two laughed and hugged, spinning in relief and joy. The kingdom cheered.

⸻

But happiness is rarely uncomplicated.

A shadow moved through the hall. Blaine Anderson, enraged and desperate, lunged at Sam with a stolen sword. “This ends now! Kurt will be mine!”

Sam spun, startled.

Kurt’s heart thundered. Memories of Sue’s rigorous sword lessons flashed through his mind. He snatched a nearby sword from a suit of armor and met Blaine’s attack with precision.

Steel clanged. Blaine snarled and swung again, but Kurt sidestepped, blocked, and with a swift punch to Blaine’s jaw, sent him sprawling.

Sue’s voice rang from the balcony. “Nice work, Porcelain! That’s my boy!”

Blaine scrambled to his feet, eyes wild, but guards stepped forward and dragged him to the dungeon, screaming indignantly.

Kurt turned to Sam, chest heaving, and pulled him into a long, trembling embrace. “You’re safe. I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

Sam laughed softly, kissing Kurt’s temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

⸻

The next morning, Kurt and Sam were married in the castle garden, under a sky streaked with gold and rose. Flowers blossomed in every color, and the fairies flitted about, sprinkling magic that made every petal shimmer.

Kurt and Sam exchanged vows, fingers intertwined, hearts full. Their lips met in a long, tender kiss that sealed their happiness.

King Burt wept openly, hugging both of them. “My son. My brave boy. And you, Sam—thank you for bringing him back to me.”

The kingdom erupted into cheers. Isabelle, Maggie, and even Sue grinned, a trio of fairy godmothers satisfied at last.

Kurt rested his forehead against Sam’s. “We’re really going to do this. Be together. Always.”

Sam smiled, brushing a hand over Kurt’s cheek. “Always.”

And for the first time, the two princes could truly believe that happily ever after wasn’t just a story—they were living it.