Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/776499.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Blaine_Anderson/Kurt_Hummel
  Character:
      Kurt_Hummel, Blaine_Anderson, Adam_Crawford, Cooper_Anderson, Jeff_
      (Glee), Nick_(Warbler), Anderson_Family_(Glee)
  Additional Tags:
      Crossover
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Boy_Who_Wouldn't_Grow_Up_Trilogy
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-27 Completed: 2013-05-02 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 26322
****** The Boy With The Cuckoo Clock Heart ******
by inkystars
Summary
     Junior fashion designer Kurt Hummel is facing lifelong Italian
     incarceration for the murder of his fiance, murder mystery novelist
     Blaine Anderson, but in the north of Italy, he must uncover the
     layers of Blaine's past through the canals of Venice before he can
     hope to be reunited with his love, dealing with masquerades, a
     mythological gang, a labyrinth, and a mysterious villain who only
     goes by the alias "Hades". Sequel to The Boy With The Sapphire Eyes.
***** Part 1 - The Prison *****
 
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
Part 1 - The Prison
 Kurt pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle his cries as he climbed up to his
room slowly, wincing at the scars on his back. He pulled the oversized lavender
shirt that he used as pajamas over his head, face crumpling up when it dragged
across his back. He crawled under his bed and pulled out his music box, opening
it. Softly, he began to sing.
 “Somewhere over the rainbow...way up high. There’s a land that I heard of once
in a lullaby...” 
 He sniffed, trying to remember his mama as he kept singing. “Somewhere over
the rainbow...skies are blue--”
 “You have a really pretty voice.”
 Kurt gasped, looking up in fright to see an older boy in his window, looking
like he’d just rolled through a jungle. His gold eyes twinkled mischievously
and a twittering yellow bird was flying around his head. 
 The boy hopped down into Kurt’s room, crouching next to him. Bits of leaves
where hanging in his wild curly hair and he stared at Kurt intently.
 Kurt remembered his manners and stuck out his hand. “My name’s Kurt.”
 “Blaine,” the boy grinned, shaking Kurt’s hand succinctly. “Would you like to
come away with me, Kurt?”
 “Come away?” Kurt’s brow furrowed. “Where?”
 “Some place far away,” Blaine grinned, leaning forward, his gold eyes swirling
with bright jade green and flecks of warm brown. “Where you’ll never have to
grow up.”
 “Really?” Kurt asked, wide-eyed as he got to his feet.
 Blaine nodded. “There’s only one condition though. You can never...ever
return.”
 Kurt’s mouth dropped open as he considered. “Could I take my music box with
me?”
 “Of course!” Blaine laughed. “We’ll need someone to sing for the other Lost
Boys.”
 “Okay then,” Kurt nodded, taking Blaine’s hand.
 ***
 Katy shook his head to clear it of daydreams. She had to hurry to the bakery
and get three loaves of bread and then hurry back. Dave had told her that the
streets were a dangerous place to be on alone. 
 She turned down a small alleyway to get there faster, tipping her hat down
over her eyes. A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her sharply. 
 Two handsome college students leaned out of one of the doorways in the alley.
The one who’d grabbed her, the blonde, gave her a grin. “Hello there little
lady. Are you lost?”
 “No,” Katy shook her head quietly.
 “You should come in and hang out with us,” the one with the brown hair urged,
taking her other hand.
 “No, I have to get to the bakery--”
 “Oh come on--”
 “There you are darling,” a voice sighed behind her as a warm hand that was
both familiar and unfamiliar settled on her shoulder. “Where have you been?”
 “Listen--” the blonde man started.
 “No,” the stranger sighed, waving his hand and suddenly the two men were
sucked back in through the doorway, the door slamming shut behind them.
 “Sorry about that,” the stranger said, suddenly coming up next to Katy. His
long dark curls fell into his swirly gold-emerald eyes and he was dressed
simply in a black polo, mustard pants, and a sports jacket. “Where are you
headed to?”
 “Oh, just the bakery,” Katy mumbled. 
 “I’ll act as escort,” he smiled, taking her arm as they continued down the
alleyway. “Though I must warn you, I’ve stirred up some trouble on the way
here, which might end up following us.”
 Katy frowned as they continued down the alleyway, feeling oddly comfortable,
despite the circumstances.
 A rustling noise came from behind them and the stranger quickened his pace.
“Kurt,” he said quietly. “Do you remember when I taught you to fly when you
were just a little boy?” 
 “What?” Katy frowned, turning to him.
 “I’m going to need you to do it now,” the stranger murmured as they headed
towards an archway. “Remember, think of a wonderful thought.”
 “I--argh!” A scream tore from Katy’s lips as they were suddenly launched into
the air. “No! I don’t know how to fly!”
 “It’s easy!” the stranger laughed. “Just straighten your legs and start
walking.”
 Kurt followed directions, astonished to see his feet walking on air.
 “See? Still a natural from when you first learned,” the stranger smiled. “Just
like riding a bike.”
 They glided easily through the air, stepping off the tips of buildings as they
strolled across the sky.
 All too soon they reached the bakery and the stranger gently let Kurt down on
the roof. “Don’t worry,” he smiled. “I’ll distract them. Go get your bread,
darling.”
 “Okay,” Kurt nodded, still staring wide-eyed.
 The stranger grinned, leaning forward to give Kurt a quick peck on the cheek.
“That’s my darling.” He leaned back and fell smoothly off the roof’s ledge.
 Kurt gasped, rushing forward to look below, but there was nothing.
***
It was four in the morning when Kurt woke.
The faint sound of snoring permeated from the bunk above him and he swung his
legs over the side of his own with a sigh as he sat up, arching and cracking
his back. He glanced over at the barred window at the stars quietly twinkling
back at him.
Running a hand through his hair, he winched at the absence of beads and the
unfamiliarity at how long it was getting. For some reason he’d always assumed
that buzz cuts were mandatory in prison. Maybe they did things differently in
Italy. 
He stood, casting a wary glance at Pino who was snoring loudly on the top bunk,
before going over to his dresser to quietly pull out his gray jumpsuit. He got
dressed quickly, grabbing his towel as well before going over to his bars and
waiting. 
Five minutes later, a guard walked to his cell and unlocked it. Kurt couldn’t
make out more than the shape of his gun or his standard issue hat in the nearly
nonexistent light. Then again, he hadn’t any of the other prior sixteen nights
of their arrangement. 
Kurt walked out of his cell and down the hall quietly, the guard close behind
him. The guard made no sound and Kurt almost turned around to make sure he was
still behind him, but he’d learned his lesson after the first couple of days. 
They reached the showers within two minutes and Kurt slipped into the room,
shutting the door quietly behind him, flicking on the light and walking into
the massive group shower room, turning on one in the far corner to go about his
business. The soap was gritty and stung slightly, but it got him clean and he
relished the feel of hot water running through his hair. 
He glanced over at the small dark window in the door, and even though he
couldn’t see anything, he was almost positive that the guard was watching.
So Kurt took his time, showering every inch of himself, going over his scars
and tattoos diligently. He stood under the rinse for far longer than necessary
before shutting off the water and toweling himself thoroughly. He slipped back
into his jumpsuit, pushing his hair back and turning off the lights, suddenly
blind. Opening the door, he started walking in front of the guard again, back
to his cell.
Once inside, bars locked again, he pressed a folded cloth through the bars to
the guard and muttered a “Grazie”.
The guard said nothing, took the cloth, and left. 
Kurt crawled back into his bed with a sigh, shutting his eyes as he tried to
get some more sleep on the hard flat bed, reminding himself that he’d slept in
far worse conditions before.
He stared at his left blank ring finger, feeling the phantom of his engagement
ring, and trying to ignore how hollow his belly felt from both lack of meals
and the absence of his piercing. 
Blinking back tears, he curled up under his covers and drifted into fitful
sleep.
***
 Blaine sat next to the couch in his grandparents’ house, a pencil and piece of
paper in hand as he tried to write as neatly as Cooper did for his school
papers. He muttered to himself as he wrote, trying to sound out the hard words
that he couldn’t spell, often resorting to squiggly lines. 
 “Once upon a time,” he made up. “There was a little boy named Blaine. He
wanted to find someone who’d love him very much. So he worked hard and did good
in school and became a good singer in high school like his big brother and then
he met his best friend and they ran away together and fell in love and then--”
 “What’s this?” Cooper snatched the page from him, reading it.
 “Coop, give it back!” Blaine yelled, pushing up to his feet, hands clambering
for the page. “It’s my story!”
 “I can’t even read it,” Cooper snorted, looking at the paper. “What does it
stay? Another one of your silly tales about princesses falling in love with
dragons or the ones where the prince of thieves and the unicorn get married?”
 “It’s my story,” Blaine insisted, pulling on his brother’s leg. “It’s mine!
Give it back!”
 They were interrupted by the clock on the wall that chimed out seven o’clock. 
 “Cooper! Blaine! Dinner!” their grandfather called.
 Cooper rolled his eyes and gave Blaine back his paper, which Blaine hugged
tight to his chest before folding it carefully and hiding it under the couch to
come back to later.
 ***
Incarceration was truly not all that it was cracked up to be. 
The days started simple. Early wake up. Showers for those who requested morning
showers. Breakfast. Labor. Lunch. Labor. Dinner. Recreation. Cell time. Lights
out. 
Kurt kept his head down as he went through the line for food, favoring the rice
heavily over the odd colors of goop they usually served. He sat in a far corner
of the hall, at a small table as he munched on the rice. It was utterly
mediocre, but in all honesty he’d had worse. He didn’t talk to anyone. Well, he
couldn’t really talk to anyone. 
After breakfast, he was set to sewing. They were divided in labor by skill and
he was one of three inmates who could actually mend a pair of pants, so he was
set to task. 
Over and over and over his fingers ran sheets and pillowcases and towels that
all needed to be mended through the sewing machine, eyes glazing over slightly
at his task.
He always finished his workload early and was rewarded with more. But he
couldn’t help it--when he saw a tear, his fingers just set to mending. 
Lunch passed similarly as breakfast.
Sewing again. Whenever the foreman wasn’t looking, he’d slip his fingers into
his lap to work on the small scraps of cloth that he stitched flowers into for
his guard. 
He had no idea why Ampelio wanted small bits of needlework in exchange for
taking him to the shower early every morning, but he wasn’t going to argue with
the trade. 
Dinner was rowdier than the other two meals. With recreation time so close and
the nights near, the inmates started to divide into their borderline cliche
cliques. 
Kurt didn’t pay attention because he couldn’t understand most of what anyone
was saying and he had no interest in affiliations, so after dinner he was
escorted back to his cell where he spent the remainder of his free time until
lights out when his roommate, Pino, would come back to their cell and they’d
get in their respective bunks, lights out.
And at four he’d awaken to start the day again.
***
There were killings happening. 
He could read next to no Italian, but the pictures in the paper were explicit
enough. Bodies found all across Venice, it looked like. 
Kurt set the newspaper down next to his bed with a sigh before turning onto his
side. Murders happening and he was helpless to at least investigate because he
was locked up for a murder.
There had to be an even deeper irony in there somewhere, but he wasn’t really
up for finding it. 
***
 Blaine loved his grandfather’s cuckoo clock. It was his favorite thing about
coming to visit his grandparents. 
 He would sit on the carpet of their living room and stare up at the clock. It
had a large face with pretty jewels around it instead of numbers and there were
weird symbols around it as well that his grandmother had called “zodiac” when
he’d asked her. The house around the clock was made out of black wood and had
lots of flowers carved into it. Two acorns hung from the bottom that were made
out of some sort of glass. 
 “Made in Pzeiform,” his grandfather told him once, pulling him onto his lap as
Blaine stared at the clock with wide eyes. “They’re known for their cuckoo
clocks there. You’ll have to go one day. But I had to get materials for it.
Glass from Venice. Gemstones from the old business. See, I commissioned the
clock to be made for your grandmother.” 
 “Did she like it?” Blaine asked quietly as he stared up at the clock,
listening to the comforting noise of the ticking. 
 “She liked the music box I had made for her far more,” his grandfather
laughed. “Though I used a part of the clock for that too.”
 Blaine just nodded, not really listening as he stared at the perfect clock. 
 ***
“Celeste!”
Kurt sighed, dumping his tray. That’s what everyone called him in here, “che-
leh-steh”. He turned to see Renato smiling at him. 
Renato was the clique ringleader of what Kurt called the Casanova gang--merely
for all of their devastatingly fortunate good looks. However, the other rule of
the gang appeared to be “with great beauty comes even greater psychosis”
because they were responsible for nearly two thirds of the in-prison related
injuries and accidents. 
Kurt played dumb. “Hi.”
Renato flashed his white teeth, tucking a lock of bronze hair behind his ear.
“So it is true?” he asked, heavily accented. “And American boy found his way
into Vespaciano?” 
Kurt shrugged.
Renato arched an eyebrow, turning to look at his group of inmates over by the
center table. “My friend, Seraphino, you know him?”
Kurt followed his gaze to the table, locking eyes with the slight mid-twenties
inmate with an abundance of super-fine blonde curls. The reasoning for the
nickname wasn’t lost on him, but Seraphino was far from angelic. Kurt had
watched him once break all the fingers in a man’s hand, giggling gleefully
while he did so.
“Yes, I know him,” Kurt said quietly.
Renato leaned in close, next to his ear. “He told me last night that he wanted
to add to that scar you have here...” His finger trailed over Kurt’s
collarbone, nudging his jumpsuit aside to show the scar he’d gotten from Shelby
barely peaking out. 
Kurt held his breath as he force his body to calm down. “I think it has enough
siblings and cousins,” he said flatly.
Renato let out a loud laugh, clapping Kurt on the back hard, his hand lingering
there. “I spoke against it too. I thought there would be a better use found for
you.”
Kurt schooled his features to remain impassive as he tried to think of a way
out.
Luckily, he found himself delivered from the situation.
“Hummel!” 
He turned to see a guard heading towards him. 
“Visitor.”
Kurt followed him eagerly, stepping around Renato as they headed up to the
front building. His mind raced as he wondered who on earth could be visiting
him. He doubted his father--he’d gone to great lengths to insure that no one
back in Seattle knew of his predicament. Jesse? Had he somehow found out?
He was handcuffed before being let into the small room. Sitting down at the
table, he looked around curiously, fiddling with his fingers.
The door opened and it was honestly the last person he expected. “Adam?”
***
 “Blaine?”
 Blaine looked up from his algebra homework, brows furrowed. “Yes, mother?”
 His mother sat down across from him, her hair immaculately clipped back as she
folded her manicured nails and looked at Blaine levelly. “You’re in middle
school now.”
 Blaine looked to the side briefly, unsure of where this was going. “Yes?”
 “So I’m sure that you have noticed some of your classmates,” she continued
straight ahead. 
 Blaine blinked. “Um...”
 “What your father and I want to know is whether or not it’s boys or girls that
you’ve been noticing,” she said bluntly. 
 Blaine stared at her. “I...haven’t noticed anyone.” 
 “We’d just rather know either way, so we can know what to do.”
 “I haven’t noticed anyone,” Blaine repeated more firmly. “I don’t like
anyone.”
 His mother stared at him in surprise before her face melted back into its
usual expression of disinterest. “Well, maybe you’re a late bloomer. I wouldn’t
be surprised, coming from Astrid.” 
 Coming from Astrid. He’d become familiar with the phrase growing up after the
realization that Fawn was not his mother. 
 So he glared straight at his mother, knowing that his eyes always unsettled
her.
 Sure enough, after thirty seconds, she broke eye contact. “Well, be sure to
tell your father and I when you do know.”
 “Will do,” he muttered quietly, going back to his homework. He waited for the
click of heels to dissipate before pulling the short story he’d been working on
from under his homework and working on that instead. 
 ***
“Hello, Kurt,” Adam said easily, sitting across the table from him. “Well it
looks like you’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament.” 
Kurt sat very still. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, a file came across my desk,” Adam shrugged. “Apparently INTERPOL was
updating their records to have Kurt Hummel in Vespaciano Prison for the murder
of one Blaine Anderson.”
Kurt stared at him.
Adam rolled his eyes. “Kurt, I know that you didn’t kill him, don’t worry.”
Kurt let out a breath. “How do you know?”
“You? Kill Blaine?” Adam snorted. “Not likely.” 
“But...” Kurt licked his lips. “But someone might have.”
Adam looked at him gently. “Kurt...what happened?”
Glancing to the side, Kurt sighed, all the air rushing out of him as the
memories swept over him and his eyes grew damp. “We were in the Alps, just
winding down after everything that had gone on in Paris. And we’d gotten into a
fight...well, there were a series of fights that led up to a blow out. We
almost called off the engagement altogether but...we managed to work it out.
Later that night, I woke up and Blaine was missing. There was blood everywhere
and then the police were there and...” He blinked back tears. “I don’t know
what happened to him. And I didn’t know what to do so...”
“You went the criminally insane route,” Adam said evenly. “That was a dangerous
gamble, Kurt.”
“Blaine’s been kidnapped,” Kurt said, leaning forward. “I couldn’t risk being
deported. I had to plead guilty.”
“How do you know he’s not dead?” Adam asked quietly.
“Why wouldn’t they leave the body?” Kurt replied.
Adam sighed. “There are multiple reasons--”
“I just know,” Kurt snapped. “Okay? I just--I would know. He’s still somewhere
close, I know it.”  
They lapsed into silence. 
“Do you know anything about the killings?” Kurt finally asked.
Adam looked up at him, eyebrow raised.
“The Venice killings,” Kurt clarified. “I read about them in the news.”
“Another serial killing,” Adam nodded. “Though they think it’s a group this
time.”
“A group?” Kurt frowned.
“There’s been a gang presence in Venice for about two decades but hostility
seems to be rising up over there again,” Adam said evenly. “They all have a
theme too--Greek mythology. The first man who died had a golden apple shoved
into his mouth with “to the most beautiful” carved into it.”
“Paris,” Kurt said quietly.
“You know the myth?”
“Months as a kid on the street, you learn to hang out at libraries,” Kurt said
distractedly. “So...Venice is experiencing mythological homicides?” 
“The pattern has continued,” Adam sighed. “And before your ask, yes, we’re
already trying to work out a connection between Shelby Corcoran and these
killings as well. We’re attempting to find out any accomplices. But there’s a
bit of a more...pressing matter.”
“Oh?” Kurt raised his eyebrows.
Adam leaned forward, glancing around cautiously. “For the past two decades,
this prison has had a notorious reputation for losing inmates. They always
claim they just run away, but they’re never seen or heard from again.”
“Okay,” Kurt frowned.
Adam looked at him. “I’ll be back in three days. See if you can figure out
anything about what happens to them.”
Kurt bit his lip. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll try and figure out where they go,
but I need something from you.”
“What?” Adam asked curiously.
Kurt fiddled with his fingers. “They took my jewelry when I came. I want you to
get it back for me.”
Adam frowned. “I’ll see what I can do.”
***
Kurt had lied. 
He didn’t know what the Italian name for it was, but he called it “down
under”. 
If a gang wanted to question someone, they’d take them down under. That is,
behind the showers there was a small trap door with a staircase underneath and
Kurt knew not to venture down there.
But he’d withhold such information until he could get what he wanted.
***
He received a note from Adam the next morning.
 Kurt--
 I tried to find your belongings, but the prison has no record of them. More
likely someone stole them from the vault. I’m sorry, your jewelry was no where
to be found.
Crawford 
Kurt clenched the note in his fist and shoved it deep into his pocket, fuming.
***
“So is it true?”
Kurt looked up from his dinner rice and carrots to see Renato leaning against
the table next to him. “What?”
Renato slid into the seat on his left. “The little boy isn’t a boy,” he purred
into Kurt’s ear. “Well, according to Pino...”
Kurt’s heart hammered in his chest as he remembered his first night at
Vespaciano.
***
 Kurt awoke in the middle of the night to something on top of him. He opened
his mouth to scream but a hand clamped down tightly over it as a heavy body
pinned him to his mattress. Words were whispered harshly against his ear but he
didn’t understand them and started thrashing around. Another hand dragged down
his chest and into his pants, freezing when they felt between his legs. 
 The body was suddenly off of him and it was his roommate--Pino--staring down
at him in disgust before climbing up into his bunk.
 Kurt curled up on his side, clutching the blanket tightly to his chest. He
didn’t sleep that night.
***
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kurt said evenly, leaning forward for
another bite.
Renato’s hand shot out and swept Kurt’s tray off the table, causing it to
clatter to the ground. 
Shaken, Kurt turned to look at Renato.
Renato smiled. “Why is it that I never see young boy in the showers at night?”
“I take morning showers,” Kurt said quietly.
“And yet Seraphino has never seen you in the morning,” Renato leaned forward,
inhaling along the crook of Kurt’s shoulder. “And yet you remain fresh. Why
shower at another time? Not something to hide, surely?”
“Not a fan of prison showers,” Kurt shot back.
Renato grinned back at him. “Become fan. I want you in them tonight, unless you
want me and my friends to pay you a visit in your cell instead?” He leaned
forward, giving Kurt a chaste peck on the lips. “Nowhere to run in cell, little
Celeste.” He stood and left the table.
Kurt stared at his back and then down at the space where his tray had been.
 ***
 “What?” Blaine blinked in surprise.
 It was his twelfth birthday and he was spending it in England with his
grandparents. 
 His grandfather handed him the packaged cuckoo clock. “It’s yours.” 
 “But...” Blaine stared down at the treasure in surprise. “Pop, why?”
 “Because you love it so much,” his grandfather shrugged. “And not for what
it’s worth--you just genuinely love it.”
 It was true. Blaine didn’t love many things, but he did dearly love the cuckoo
clock. 
 His grandmother chuckled as she brought over a tray of tea cups. “I remember
when you were three, you kept asking where the little birdie in it was.” 
 “You thought we’d hidden it away,” his grandfather laughed along and Blaine’s
face burned in embarrassment. 
 “Well, I took what you said to heart,” his grandmother smiled, turning to pull
something from next to the bookshelf. “Which is why we decided to get you a
little birdie to go with the cuckoo clock.”
 Blaine moved forward eagerly as she pulled a sheet off of a birdcage that held
a canary in it. He stared at the sweet little chirping bird, a soft smile
tugging on his lips. He pressed a finger through the cage and the bird nipped
it affectionately. “What’s his name?”
 “Pavarotti,” his grandmother said, sitting next to him. “Take good care of
him, will you?”
 “I will, Nana” Blaine promised immediately, unable to take his eyes away from
the little bird. 
 “And don’t give this away,” his grandfather said sternly, tapping the cuckoo
clock softly. “I put my heart into this cuckoo clock.” 
 “Before you had to transfer it to a music box,” his grandmother said fondly.
 “So do the same with yours.”
 Blaine’s brows furrowed. “Put my heart in the clock?”
 “Make the clock your heart,” his grandfather corrected. “Keep it close and
guard it carefully. And if you have to give it away, make sure you do it to
someone who’ll give you their cuckoo clock as well.”
 Blaine didn’t entirely understand, but he clutched the clock gingerly,
convinced that there was no way he’d ever give it away.
 ***
Four o’clock in the morning came and Kurt awoke. The black of the night pressed
heavily on his eyes as he got dressed and waited for Ampelio to come and unlock
his cell door. 
The door slid open ominously and Kurt walked out into the black hallway,
relying on sense memory to lead him to the showers.
His shower dragged out as he stood under the spray, eyes tearing up as he held
himself tightly, wiping at his eyes. Leaning against the eggshell tile of the
shower walls, he considered his options. He could try and avoid Renato and the
Casanova gang until Adam came back and he could try and make a plea to get out
of here, or he could just give in to Renato. He knew he could survive it. He
had before. And no matter how demented Seraphino looked, he was no Sebastian
Smythe. 
Kurt slid down to the floor, clutching his hair in his hands tightly as he
cried into his knees. 
He wanted Blaine. He wanted Blaine here next to him. They were supposed to live
happily ever after. They were supposed to leave serial killings behind them and
live their lives and be happy and...
He knew happiness wasn’t one hundred percent guaranteed, but he’d just assumed
that whatever hardships that he and Blaine would face in the future, they’d
face them side by side.
After an hour he finally dragged himself from the water and got dressed,
walking back out into the dark hallway, Ampelio close behind him.
He held his head high, but each step he took back to his cell reminded him of
the things he’d have to deal with in the coming day and pretty soon his
shoulders started shaking. 
He stopped in the middle of the hallway, head sinking into his hands as he
quietly cried.
Suddenly there was a gloved hand on his shoulder. “What is wrong?” Ampelio
asked in his thick Italian accent.
Kurt opened his mouth to say “Nothing”, but suddenly everything started
spilling out--what Pino had done the first night, how terrified Kurt was about
the Casanova gang and Renato’s threat and what would happen to him here...
Ampelio was silent through it all, but he gave Kurt a gruff pat on the back
after Kurt had finished, and they returned to his cell. 
Rummaging under his pillow, Kurt pulled out the embroidered cloth scraps and
passed them through the bars. Ampelio leaned forward to take them and Kurt
stared at him as his gloved fingers brushed Kurt’s bare ones. It was odd, but
it only now occurred to him that he’d never seen Ampelio’s face--he only ever
came at night after lights out.
He leaned forward against the bars, but Ampelio had already turned, walking
back down the black hallway.
Kurt returned to bed, waiting for the coming day.
 ***
 Blaine closed his door tightly behind him, sinking down against it, wiping the
tears from his eyes, mindful of the bruise on his cheek. He watched the early
December snow fall gently out of his window, blocking all hope of seeing stars
that night. 
 He didn’t know why he’d thought it’d be a good idea to argue the topic with
his father. He knew perfectly well that his father had the dream of him going
to law school, becoming a successful lawyer, and starting a family with some
Ivy League graduate girl. 
 So him screaming in his father’s face that he wanted to be a storyteller and
that he didn’t want to start a family because there wasn’t anyone that he was
sexually attracted to didn’t entirely go over well. 
 He pushed away from his door and curled up on his bed. 
 He knew what his parents thought of him. He knew how they felt about the fact
that he didn’t have the Anderson blue eyes. He knew how they felt about his
writing aspirations. He knew how they felt about his lack of attraction to
anything. 
 He knew that they didn’t consider him a part of their family.
 Blaine turned on his side and clutched his pillow tightly. Despite his
inability to muster up feelings or attraction for anyone, he still desperately
longed for someone to love him. 
 Three hours later, he awoke from the fitful sleep he’d fallen into and he felt
an odd sense of lightness around him. 
 The snow had stopped falling when he went over to his window, and Westerville
was quiet under the stars. He glanced up and stared at a constellation that was
shining particularly bright on that evening--Corona Borealis, once he checked
his star chart. 
 In that moment, Blaine felt peace. On that cold winter night, it was like a
burden was lifted from his heart, opening it to possibilities that he hadn’t
thought possible before. His fingers and toes felt restless and he was suddenly
filled with the certainty that even though he didn’t know his place in the
world or what the future held for him, he knew that he had purpose. 
 And he kept that small flicker of hope deep in his heart, nurturing it like a
newborn star.
 ***
Kurt didn’t eat any meals the next day. 
He’d made the decision to try and wait it out until Adam returned the next day.
He just had to survive for one day more and then he could find a way to escape
and safely find Blaine. 
So he prepared for any conflict. He snuck a needle from the sewing room into
the wrist cuff of his sleeve. He became even more paranoid of each inmate he
passed. He wandered the grounds during recreation instead of going back to his
cell as usual. He treaded across the dry grasses, back and forth as the sun
slowly set and a heavy half moon hung fat in the sky. 
Finally, ten minutes before lights out, he returned to his cell.
Renato and the Casanova gang were waiting inside for him. 
“Grazie, Pino,” Renato smirked, handing over a tin of something to Kurt’s
roommate. 
Kurt’s eyes darted from face to face. Seven against one. The odds were in no
way in his favor.
He ran.
 ***
 He stood outside the apartment building, fingers clutching his bag tightly. 
 It had been far easier buying a plane ticket than he thought it’d be. He still
had the address card from when she pressed it into his hand when she was
escorted out of his house.
 He ringed the buzzer. He was let in.
 Standing in front of her door, he took a deep breath to calm himself before
knocking plainly.
 The door swung open and his biological mother stared at him in shock.
 He gave a sort of grimace smile. “Hi Astrid.”
 “Blaine,” she gasped, pulling him into a tight hug. “What on Earth are you
doing here?”
 “I came to see you,” he shrugged. “Wondered if maybe I could stay here for a
bit?”
 “Blaine, do your parents know that you’re here?” she asked urgently. 
 “No,” he rolled his eyes. “I once went on a camping trip with friends from
school for three weeks and they didn’t even notice that I was missing.”
 “Blaine, you can’t be here without their permission--”
 “I ran away,” he admitted. “I don’t fit in there, they know it, so I came to
be with you and--”
 “Blaine!” she said sharply, grabbing his shoulders. “You can’t just run away!”
 “Yes I can,” he frowned. “Fawn isn’t even my real mother. You are.”
 “Blaine,” she sighed, cupping his face. “Blaine, you have to go back.”
 “No,” he shook his head. “They keep making plans for my future and they want
me to be a lawyer--”
 “They want you to be successful,” Astrid stressed. “That’s not a bad thing,
Blaine.”
 “But...” Blaine stared at her. “I thought you’d understand. You know what
they’re like. They took me away from you.”
 “I gave you up of free will though, Blaine,” she sighed, stroking a hand
across his hair. “I wanted you to have a better life, so that you can go into
adulthood with all the advantages that you could possibly have. You can’t just
leave that.”
 “I don’t want that,” Blaine shook his head, backing away. “I don’t want
some...some...plan for the future. I want parents who want to love me and are
invested in who I am right now, not who I’ll eventually become!”
 “Blaine--”
 “Bye Astrid,” he said, turning and walking out of the apartment.
 “Blaine!”
 He wandered around Capitol Hill for hours, considering heading into downtown
Seattle, but favoring the woodsy streets instead. 
 Clearly he’d been wrong. His biological mother wasn’t the person to turn to.
He didn’t have anyone to turn to. He’d have to go forward on his own.
 He wound up in front of a three story tier house and stared up at it.
Something about the architecture spoke to him and he found himself gazing at it
for nearly an entire hour straight. 
 As the rain fell steadily around him, he made himself two promises.
 The first, that if he ever became a successful author, as was his dream, he
would buy this house.
 The second, that he was going to go back home for supplies and Pavarotti and
the cuckoo clock that Pop had given him. 
 And then he was going to run away and never look back.
 ***
 “Celeste!” Laughter rang through the halls as they tauntingly called after
him.
Kurt ran through the halls, skidding to a halt as the lights cut out. Then he
ran the only path he knew in the dark--the way to the showers.
Three hallways down, a sharp right and a hairpin left and he was pushing the
door open, one of the gang close on his heels and he was tackled to the floor.
Something sharp dragged along his back, ripping through his jumpsuit.
Someone else ran into the room and the light turned on. 
Kurt wriggled around and realized that it was Seraphino on top of him, doing
his very best to shred Kurt’s clothes. Sabino had run in and turned on the
lights and he started helping Seraphino tear Kurt’s clothes off of him.
Kurt managed to wrangle the needle from his cuff and jabbed it into Seraphino’s
cheek.
Seraphino screeched and Kurt rolled, kicking the tattered pieces of cloth off
of his feet as he sprinted behind the shower block. 
There was only one place left to hide.
Kurt pulled the trapdoor up, staring at the rickety spiral staircase before
clambering down it quickly.
Down under.
Blackness dampened his vision as he raced down the slippery steps deep under
the prison. His foot slipped out from underneath him and he pitched over the
railing, yelling out as he fell before landing hard on his side. Thankfully, he
didn’t break anything. 
Pushing himself to his feet, Kurt started stumbling through the dark, feeling
blindly with his hands as he made his way through the dark. 
A noise came from behind him as the trap door opened.
“Celeste!”
A string of angry Italian followed Renato’s lilting taunt and Kurt knew it was
Seraphino.
“Seraphino’s not very happy with you, Celeste!” Renato laughed. 
Kurt felt along the stone walls until he came across a small little niche and
tucked himself into it, crouching down quietly.
Footsteps echoed throughout the underground passage, steadily coming closer and
closer to his destination.
He covered his mouth with his hand to mask his breathing, eyes closed tightly
as he tried to make himself smaller.
“Celeste! Celeste!”
The voices were spread out, all along the passage and Kurt waited...waited... 
After about twenty minutes, the voices got fainter until they disappeared
altogether. 
Kurt lifted his head cautiously, able to make out a few shapes in the darkness.
He uncurled himself and stood, walking carefully out of the niche. 
A hand grabbed his hair tightly, elbow hitting him sharply in the ribs.
Voices were suddenly echoing and hooting everywhere, up close and all around
Kurt. He was thrown unceremoniously to the ground and kicked when he attempted
to push himself up.
“Celeste,” Renato sighed, stepping into the circle and crouching next to him.
“Sweet boy. All you had to do was come to the showers. Would that have been so
hard?”
Kurt spat a mouthful of blood into Renato’s face.
Renato responded with a sharp backhand that nearly gave Kurt whiplash.
Renato wiped the blood off his face. “But instead, you disrespect us and hurt
Seraphino. Why would you do that, Celeste?”
Kurt stared at the gritty ground, body reeling from the adrenaline coursing
through his veins. 
Renato grabbed his hair sharply and pulled his head up so that he had to look
him in the eye. “Celeste.”
Kurt held his tongue, glaring at Renato.
Renato smiled at him. “No talk? No matter. You will soon.”
Kurt’s jaw clenched as attempted to break out of the hold of the six men who
were holding him down, but it was of no use. 
Renato crouched down behind him and pulled his underwear down. “So the little
boy isn’t a boy!” he laughed before rattling off something fast in Italian that
Kurt couldn’t catch. The men around him laughed.
Kurt locked his jaw because there was no way in hell he was going to give them
the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
There was only a split second of silence, but in that split second a noise
echoed through the passage that cause the men to shush each other and everyone
suddenly got very quiet. 
Ticking. 
There was something ticking.
A pair of hands suddenly let go of Kurt and Pino’s panicked voice started
rambling at light speed.  Renato snapped something back but then others started
talking and the ticking got steadily louder and louder.
There was a scream.
Seraphino fell to the ground, his chest completely split open. 
All hands left Kurt as there was a flurry of movement in the dark. Panicked
yells and shouts and screams and something wet sprayed all over Kurt. 
Licking his lips, he realized it was someone’s blood. 
All too soon, there was an eery silence.
Kurt looked around with wide eyes, shapes lying all around him in the dark.
He stood quietly, looking around.
Cacophonous ticking came from directly behind him. 
Kurt wheeled around and there was someone standing there. 
A figure in a cloak with a large beaky mask who was staring at him.
Kurt stumbled backwards, tripping over a body.
The figure kept walking towards him before picking him up by the scruff of his
collar.
Kurt started hyperventilating, tears coming out as the figure shoved him into a
large crack in the wall. 
“Run.”
Kurt panicked, getting further and further into the crack, away from the figure
that was staring at him in the passage, watching him scramble. 
Eventually the crack got wider and Kurt was able to turn around and face the
darkness, rushing forward with his hands out in front of him blind.
An hour later the adrenaline wore out of his system and he stumbled to a halt.
He was still in odd passage that he’d been shoved through, though there was
soil underfoot now.
Curling up against a wall, he passed out into a dead sleep.
When he awoke, he found a cloak around his shoulders. 
Unnerved, Kurt looked around wildly, but he was completely alone. He considered
going back to the prison because Adam was supposed to return today but...the
bodies of the Casanova gang along with his roommate and the threat of the
figure in the mask convinced him otherwise.
So, tucking the cloak tightly around his shoulders, he continued down the
passageway, unsure of where he was heading. 
He traveled for hours, hunger gnawing at his stomach and he sincerely wished
that he hadn’t skipped all the meals from the day prior.
It was the very early morning that he emerged from a cave, the stars twinkling
over head as he breathed in fresh air that was tinged with salt water. His
thoughts returned fondly to Seattle for a brief second before he took in the
area around him.
A city in the distance. A lagoon. Islands. 
He’d know this city anywhere. The happiest day of his life happened right in
this city, on the main canal, when Blaine had asked him to marry him.
“Venice,” Kurt whispered, as he stumbled forward towards civilization. 
 
***** Part 2 - The City *****

                                        
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
 
 Part_2_-_The_City
Four in the morning. Kurt woke up.
He rolled over in bed, arm reaching out to hold Blaine before his brain caught
up with him. 
Then he sat up to so that Ampelio could take him to the showers, but his brain
caught up once more.
He was in a soft bed with a peach colored comforter, the bright beams of
moonlight streaming in through the window shutters. He got up, feet padding on
the cool stone floor and flung the shutters open, the bright colors of the
houses around him pleasantly assaulting his vision even in the dim light as the
setting moon glinted off the water and the faint impression of Venice off
across the lagoon. 
He leaned against his window, the cool air filtering through his hair that had
gotten much longer since the month that he’d fled from Vespaciano. He’d
considered cutting it, but ultimately decided to keep it long as a disguise
since he was technically still at large.
The early mornings were his favorite. He didn’t actually have to get up until
six, but he woke up at four out of habit anyways to watch the moonset and
sunrise. 
Sometimes he’d let his mind wander into dangerous territory, like pretending
that he and Blaine were just here on vacation, relaxing before heading back to
the states to plan their wedding some more.
After two hours, the lilac/sea green/gilded pink morning light filtering in
through his window from across the lagoon and he stood, unbraiding his little
braid and stripping to take a shower. The water was nearly freezing, but he
didn’t mind and the close walls comforted him as he leaned against them,
letting the almond oatmeal soap suds drain off his body.
Breakfast was fruit salad and some sort of salty fish jerky that he ate slowly
at his tiny dining room table as he read the newspaper. He had just the barest
understanding of Italian to glean the basic news from the paper, but the top
story was pretty clear.
There had been another murder.
Kurt took out his notebook to catalogue it. It had been the fourth murder.
The first one had been of a rich aristocrat with the golden apple shoved in his
mouth--Paris. 
The next had been a female CEO of one of the fishing companies who was found
impaled with a spear and one eye missing--Polyphemus.  
Another CEO of a charity for orphans, who was found chained to a rock by the
shore with an iron eagle shoved into his split stomach--Prometheus. 
And now, Kurt read the paper about a young woman who’d been found with boils
all over her body and an empty box next to her--Pandora. 
Kurt cataloged the murder in his notebook and stared at it, considering. The
pattern of P’s was clear, though to what cause it held, Kurt was at a loss.
Especially since most were characters of Greek mythology whose names hadn’t
been converted into the Roman pantheon. 
He’d gleaned as much from gossip about town: Two decades ago, there was a band
of misfit youth who killed various prominent members of Venetian society and
ended forming a sort of crime ring that lasted a few years before dying out and
becoming something of a legend. 
A decade later, there was some stirring of the gang again that happened, but it
led to nothing. 
And now, two decades after its forming, the gang apparently had returned and
crime was up in Venice again.
There had been no photographic record of anyone from the gang--no one had ever
gotten caught. But there was a photo from two decades ago of Venetian street
youth during carnival  that Kurt had found in old newspaper clippings. 
There were three middle-school aged boys in it. One was grinning in profile as
he pulled his mask down. The second had his mask on and was lounging against a
wall. And the third had his mask in his hand, his curly head tipped back in
laughter, and even as a young preteen, Kurt still would recognize that smile
anywhere. 
He flipped through his notebook until he came to the page on Blaine. 
He knew that Blaine had some connection to the gang, but he wasn’t entirely
sure where he fit into everything. 
Sighing, he shut his notebook in frustration and got dressed for the day. 
***
 Blaine stared at the large map in his room. He’d yet to find a place to run to
where his parents wouldn’t be able to trace his funds like they had when he’d
gone to Seattle to find his mother. 
 And so many of the places on the map he couldn’t go to without parental
supervision. 
 Gritting his teeth, he shoved away from his desk and grabbed his backpack
before running downstairs to the garage to get his bike. 
 He loved riding. The wind whipped through his hair as he sped down hills and
across streets and back alleyways, completely and utterly free. 
 It felt like flying.
 He biked for hours, trying to come up with a solution to his problem, but
honestly finding none. It got late in the afternoon as he finally took a break
by a small little pea-patch in some town outside of Westerville. He pulled out
his water bottle from his backpack before hearing a gurgling coo. 
 Confused, he turned around, glancing down at the cluster of sweet peas behind
him.
 Amidst the bright magenta and pale lavender flowers was a little baby, smiling
happily and raising his little chubby arms at the flowers. He was swaddled in a
fresh little blanket and wriggling comfortably.
 Blaine blinked at the baby before picking him up carefully and cradling him.
“Hey there little fellow.”
 The baby gurgled back at him, swatting a spit-covered fist affectionately on
Blaine’s cheek. 
 “You’re a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” Blaine grinned, rocking him back
and forth slightly. “Where’s your mom and dad?” He glanced up and looked
around, but didn’t see anyone in the pea patch.
 Looking back down at the baby, he made a decision. “You know what? Screw ‘em.
Parents are useless and all they want you to do is grow up to be just like
them. They like you when you’re cute and little, but then they put you in
school to be come little miniatures of themselves.” He smiled grimly down at
the baby. “Your mommy and daddy probably won’t love you anymore after you turn
five, because then it’s school school school.”
 The baby gurgled again, batting his pretty blue eyes and Blaine giggled. 
 “Come on. You’d better come with me. We can find a place together where we
never have to grow up...”
***
Kurt pulled his bag over his shoulder as he shut the door to his little sweet
pea-magenta apartment firmly, locking it in place before taking off down the
road. He plucked bobby pins from his mouth as he attempted to pin up his hair
in some fashion, silently hating himself for breaking his last hairband the
other night.
The little island of Burano in the Venetian Lagoon was just starting to wake
up, and he smiled in greeting at his month-old neighbors as he passed. The
island was covered in brightly colored houses that popped against the hazy blue
sky and monotonous water that surrounded them. 
Kurt walked for twenty minutes, crossing only one canal, to reach his place of
employment, where he got to use one of his rarer and unique skill sets. 
“Buongiorno, Liliana!” he called out merrily to his seventy-eight year old boss
as he rapped sharply on the door to her shop, walking in with a sunny smile.
She gave him a sharp look before waving him back, thrusting a handful of
designs at him.
He took the stack and glanced at the complex patterns as he headed towards the
back of the shop and set up at his station.
He’d been living on the mainland for a week, sleeping in alleys and stealing
from carts to eat, when he’d come across the small tiny advert in the paper,
recognizing the picture and asking a young street girl to translate it for him.
An apprentice was needed at a small traditional lace-making shop on Burano. 
Kurt had stolen a fresh pair of clothing, broken into a house to use the
shower, and then smuggled his way onto a vaporetti to get to the island where
he’d found Liliana’s shop. 
The language barrier had obviously been a large problem, and Liliana leaned
towards the grumpy end of the elderly scale, but she’d hired Kurt because of
his competence with a needle and let him stay at her nephew’s apartment, who
had gone to Sicily for the summer. 
And though Kurt knew she’d never admit it in a hundred years, he suspected that
she liked his company more than she let on and that she was glad that she could
find someone willing to help her make the traditional Burano styled lace from
hand. 
Plus the pay was excellent because she didn’t sell her wares cheap and refused
to negotiate. 
Kurt rolled up his sleeves and looked at the needle, pile of fine silk thread
and scissors he was given on top of his thick paper mat. He pulled out one of
the small designs and picked up his needle, threading it carefully before
setting to work. 
Lace was always something he’d loved just for the sheer difficulty of the
entire process. It took incredible skill to even try to put together and was
extremely time-consuming, not to mention doing it in the traditional Burano
style--entirely by hand and with only a needle. During his time at McKinley
Home when his resources were scarce, lace was one of the mediums that he’d
attempted to work on during the long hours that he’d had to himself, teaching
himself how to make it by reading up on the process and its history in the
public library. 
He started the minuscule stitches, a smile tugging at his lips as he remembered
all the pages of Victorian lace designs that he’d thrown at Blaine when they’d
first met and started plotting “Teacups and Biscuits and Murders, Oh My!”
together.
He worked through the morning, smiling in amusement as the occasional customer
would come in--usually one from off-island--and try and haggle with Liliana
who’d remain stoic in her pricing.
At eleven, he stopped working because she’d holler at him to come up to the
front where she’d shove a bowl of seafood and rice at him and have him sit and
listen while he’d ramble on for an hour in a mix of Venetian and Italian about
how the old lacemaking ways had died out and the corruption that was happening
in Venice and the funding that the glassblowers of Murano got, all of which
Kurt could understand less than ten percent of. 
But he’d sit and listen and nod and eat her lunch without complaint--which,
despite its utterly unappetizing look, was actually quite delicious, if a bit
on the salty side--as the sun would steadily creep higher in the sky. 
He glanced out the window at the sparkling lagoon, eyes gazing towards Venice.
It seemed a lifetime ago he’d been on those canals...
***
 Kurt leaned back against the edge of the gondola, pretending that he was being
productive with his work when he was really sketching an outfit for himself.
Fitted pants, long-sleeved white silk shirt, long white jacket that fit him
snuggly, maybe a bouquet of red and yellow roses...
 Kurt’s pen paused on the paper before he rolled his eyes at himself for being
silly and he flipped to another page, past the accompanying drawing of Blaine
in a black tux so that he could sketch up a dress. 
 The scratching of pen on paper from Blaine’s end of the gondola stopped and
Kurt looked up in curiosity, just as they reached the main canal.
 Blaine was staring at him oddly, a faint smile on his lips, and he looked
almost...nervous. “Kurt...”
 “Yes?” Kurt blinked, setting his notebook down in his lap.
 Blaine swallowed. “I love you.”
 Kurt smiled immediately. “I love you too.”
 “No, I...” Blaine cleared his throat. “I have never loved anything in the
world as much as I love you. I would do anything to make you happy and to
insure that you were safe and loved and...” He trailed off with a huff of
laughter. “You know, being a writer, you’d think that I’d be better coming up
with something to say but...with you, there are no words.”
 Kurt stared at him, his heart clenching tightly.
 Blaine awkwardly clambered across the space between them to kneel in front of
Kurt. Then he was down on one knee.
 Kurt’s mind when blank.
 Blaine reached into his pocket to pull out a small box, opening it to reveal a
gold ring with little rubies and emeralds around the middle.
 Kurt grabbed him tightly, kissing him until they tumbled backwards, in
immediate danger of almost tipping the gondola over as Kurt found himself
crying “yes” all over Blaine’s face and the two fumbled to get the ring on his
finger.
 ***
Kurt blinked before looking back at Liliana who was still rambling on and he
finished his meal, doing the best to ignore the phantom weight on his left ring
finger.
After lunch, she’d give him a pitcher of water with mint leaves and cucumber
and lime slices in, warning him that it would be all that he’d receive for the
rest of the day and that it would make him strong and something else that he’d
never catch, to which Kurt would nod before continuing with his work diligently
without complaint. 
His favorite thing about the needlework was that it was mindless. He’d set his
hands to motion and then let his mind wander.
The four murders mulled over and over in his head. The only feasible connection
that he could make was that they were most probably from the same person, and
that person was most probably linked with the gang that was going through
Venice. 
And wealth. Each victim had been extremely wealthy.
Kurt’s mind was busy while his fingers worked. 
He finished at five and Liliana always payed him in cash at the end of each
day. He’d stop by the market on his way home before returning to his little
apartment to cook dinner and go over the cases some more.
In a corner in his room, the cloak that had been draped over him while he slept
in the passage sat, untouched by Kurt since he’d arrived on Burano. He’d
thought several times of selling it, but hadn’t dared. It was made of thick
black velvet with flowery black lace that was edged around the collar--
a pattern that was distinctly native to Burano. 
Kurt sighed, staring over at it before going back to his notebook.
***
 Blaine picked a handful of sweet pea flowers and tucked them into the baby’s
cloth--who then started batting at them happily--before looking at his backpack
and trying to imagine how to turn it into a baby carrier so that he could bike
back to his house.
 “Hey!”
 Blaine looked up to see a woman running towards him and he panicked, holding
the baby tightly to him as he went over to his bike.
 “No, wait! Stop!”
 A hand grabbed his arm as the woman huffed in front of him, head full of wild
caramel waves fluttering with her breath. “That’s my son!”
 “I found him alone...” Blaine said, holding the baby tightly.
 The woman pushed her hair back. “I know. It was only a minute. I was gardening
and I set him down in the sweet peas because he likes it there and there’s lots
of shade, but then a little boy ran by and stole my basket of tomatoes and I
had to run and grab him and then his parents got involved, and the Karofskys
will never see eye to eye with anyone on anything...” She trailed off, holding
out her arms.
 Blaine held the child tighter. “But...”
 The woman’s gaze softened. “Why won’t you give him back?”
 Blaine stared down at the happy little baby. “If I leave him here...he might
now be loved.”
 “Yes he will!” The woman laughed. “I love him very much!”
 “You love him now!” Blaine argued. “You love him when he’s young but then when
he gets older and he doesn’t want to be like you or his dad you might not love
him or you might not be there for him when he needs you to be or you won’t give
him what he needs or--”
 “Hey,” she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s your name?”
 “Blaine.”
 “Blaine,” she smiled. “I want you to tell you something.”
 Blaine nodded.
 She leaned forward. “I’m not going to say that all parents love their
children, because some don’t which is extremely unfortunate. But I love him,
Blaine. So does his father. We love him for everything that he is now, and
everything that he’ll end up becoming, whether by his choice or not. And we’d
never make him into something that he wasn’t.”
 Blaine stared at him. “Do...do you promise?”
 She nodded. “I promise.”
 Blaine’s head drooped as he held out the baby.
 The woman took him in her arms, cooing at him with a smile. She glanced back
up at Blaine. “Thank you.”
 Blaine stood there, feeling empty, as he nodded.
 She frowned, leaning down to his level. “Shouldn’t you be getting home?”
 He shrugged. “I don’t know if I have a home.”
 “You would know,” she said gently. “Home is where the heart is.”
 Blaine looked up at her, unsure. 
 The baby whined suddenly, shifting around.
 “Aw, darling, is it time for a nap?” she asked, smiling down at him.
 The baby snuffled in response.
 She started swaying back and forth, glancing up at Blaine. “Would you like to
help me sing him to sleep?”
 He shrugged, fiddling with his fingers.
 She smiled in understanding. “Well, you can join in, if you like.” She rocked
the baby back and forth gently. “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high...
there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby...”
 Blaine leaned forward to watch the baby close his little eyelids and he found
himself softly singing along. “Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...
and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.”
 “Someday I’ll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind
me...”
 “Where troubles melt like lemon drops and way above the chimney tops, that’s
where you’ll find me...”
 “Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly... Birds fly over the rainbow, why
then oh why can’t I?”
 Blaine watched in fascination as the baby yawned and then settled, little lips
quivering. “If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can’t
I?”
 The woman smiled at him. “Thank you. You have a lovely singing voice.”
 “Thanks,” Blaine said. “I...I should get going.”
 “Would you like some dinner?” she offered. “I’ll be making spaghetti.”
 “No, that’s fine,” he shook his head. “I should head back. But it was nice to
meet you...” 
 “Elizabeth,” she smiled. “And it was nice to meet you too, Blaine.”
 Blaine nodded with a half-smile as he climbed back onto his bike.
 “Come on, Kurt,” he heard Elizabeth say softly. “Let’s get home to Papa, shall
we?”
 ***
Lilana’s shop was teeming with customers when Kurt ducked in the next morning,
and he looked around wildly in surprise. Usually they averaged maybe twelve
customers spread out over a day, but here were close to fifteen trying to cram
themselves into the little shop at nearly seven in the morning.
Kurt shot Liliana a questioning look, but she merely waved him back to his work
station. Kurt began where he left off the day before, eyes glancing up at the
crush of people every so often in confusion as he settled back into his work.
More and more came throughout the day until Liliana was forced to shut her door
and lock it at lunchtime so that they could have any sort of modicum of peace
while they ate. 
A line began forming outside.
Kurt stayed quiet as she placed his lunch down in front of him, waiting. 
She was three bites into her own before she started rambling about some party
or other that Kurt was trying to follow, but failing. Finally she rolled her
eyes and showed him a small little invitation that one of the customers had
left. 
He stared at it. The invite was written in three languages--Italian, Venetian,
and English. 
 You have been cordially invited to the Narcissus Ball.
 Masks, costumes, and invitation required. 
 Friday, 9, the Canal Ballroom. 
 Outsiders and authorities not permitted.
Liliana went back to rambling about secret masquerades and how they were coming
back into fashion which meant a higher demand for lace which meant her working
more hours, the thought of which made her grumpy, but Kurt just stared at the
invite.
It was clearly a party for the rich and famous socialites of the lagoon to come
together for a night of (most likely) borderline illicit revelry, considering
“authorities” were not permitted. 
Then again...it would be an ideal target if a killer was looking for wealthy
people to kill off...
Kurt glanced back up at Liliana, nodding and looking engaged as he slid the
invite into his pocket.
He had three days to plan. 
***
 “Blaine!”
 “Blaine!”
 Blaine looked up to see Nick and Jeff sitting down excitedly next to him.
“What?”
 “Did you hear about the trip?” Jeff asked excitedly. 
 “They’re sending our grade on the Europe trip for the last week of summer!”
Nick grinned.
 “Apparently to stick it to the eighth graders for the prank that they pulled,”
Jeff rolled his eyes.
 “But Europe!” Nick bounced. “That’s the main thing. It’ll be so amazing, I’m
so excited!”
 “Ooh, and could we visit your grandparents while we’re in England?” Jeff
rambled. “It would be cool to get away from the group for a day.”
 “Hold on, hold on,” Blaine shook his head to clear it. “Wait, we get the
trip?”
 “Yes!” Jeff and Nick said in unison.
 Blaine blinked, considering. A plan started to form in his mind. Then a grin
pulled up on his face. “I think I have an idea...”
 ***
An outfit wasn’t hard. He’d raided cheap little thrift stores after his first
two days of pay and bought anything that came close to fitting him before
tearing most of it apart and resewing it into something he’d actually wear.
He took a pair of of waist-high puffy scarlet pants that he’d stitched gold
flowers into when he was bored one time and a tight backless copper neck-high
vest that had laces cinched over his back and hung them over his dresser.
Pointy little black dress shoes that he’d found in an antique shop would have
to do for footwear and he’d have to forgo any sort of jewelry because he was
completely broke. He bit his nails, wondering how he was supposed to show his
wealth and look like he belonged without anything of actual worth on him.
Two days until the party and he was staring out over the turquoise lagoon,
pondering his dilemma. Customers were flowing in with the hopes of scoring a
pricey lace collar from Liliana, who was grumpier than usual. She closed up for
lunch an hour earlier than usual before jabbing at Kurt with her cane and
asking what was wrong. 
Kurt blinked in surprise at the direct address before confessing his dilemma in
stilted Italian.
Liliana told him not to worry about masquerades and get back to work. 
So he did. 
***
That night he pulled the cloak out and stared at it with a sigh. It’d have to
do.
***
Friday, he raced through his work, trying to finish as early as possible so
that he could catch a vaporetti to Venice early enough to buy a mask. 
His fingers flicked quickly through the silk, weaving his needle in and out and
in and out...
He sat on his stool anxiously at lunch, fiddling with his fingers nervously.
Liliana stared at him with what had to be one of her most condescending looks
he’d ever received before handing him a box. 
Kurt opened it with a frown before his eyes went wide. 
It was a lace mask comprised of rust-edged cream flowers--narcissus, his mind
supplied--held with two ribbons. 
She started grumbling on about how he’d given her such short notice and if he
actually wanted anything of quality he should have actually told her sooner
instead of just running off to random masquerades and how everyone else would
be wearing a full-faced mask but he’d have to do with a half-faced one because
there was no way that she was going to stay up all hours of the night working
on that for him-- 
She was cut off as he hugged her suddenly, pulling her in tight. 
She batted him away with an eye roll before setting his lunch down in front of
him and rambling about the latest island gossip.
***
A bit after seven, he was on the vaporetti, slicing through the bright
turquoise waters of the lagoon, heading towards Venice. He watched the city
closely with a sense of anticipation in his chest.
 ***
 Blaine stared out over the Atlantic Ocean. They were on the plane, heading
east for London, their first stop, and from there they were supposed to go to
Paris and finally, Madrid. But Blaine had other plans, as did Nick and Jeff and
Flint, and the rest of the thirty boys in their grade when Blaine had explained
the plan to them. 
 He looked at the map of Europe that he’d tucked into his notebook and smiled
at it. 
 A place where they’d never have to grow up. 
 It was the closest thing he could think of as far as the name went.
 His finger fondly touched the little silver star that he’d placed over the
Netherlands before tucking the map back into his notebook and enjoying the
flight to freedom.
 ***
Kurt changed once he was in the city, in a public restroom before heading to
the Canal Ballroom. The lace mask fit easily over his face and the ribbons tied
up part of his hair in the back. The cloak was tied around his neck as he
walked through the city as the sun went down. He crept close, but the entrance
was only accessible by water so he paid a gondolier to bring him up to the
front. 
The building was large and extremely antiquated and utterly alight with the
festivities inside. An attendant requested Kurt’s invitation at the door, which
he handed over before he was allowed to step up into the foyer where masked
guests were conversing. He offered his cloak at the coat check before heading
through the heavily gilded doors.
Gold light filled the vast opulent ballroom from chandeliers that glittered
with crystal. A black and white checkered marble floor filled the space while a
grand orchestra played. There was a large banquet along the wall and a bar at
the far end. The vast majority of the masqueraders were either dancing or
drinking or both. 
Kurt took a deep breath in as he walked down the steps, the heady scent of
flowers and wine filling his nostrils as he let himself get swept up into the
party. 
An hour in and he knew that it was ostentatious beyond belief. Everything was
gold leafed or gold flecked or there were diamonds encrusted in the plates and
the china was hand-painted. 
Kurt had found himself passed from arm to arm, back and forth between dancers
as he’d done his best to keep his eyes out for anything suspicious. Though with
the crowd he was partying with, it was clear that there was plenty of
underhanded activity going on.
Nine times he was asked to join someone in another room, and six times he was
asked how much he charged. Two men had offered to sell him something. A woman
had asked him for wares to buy.
He didn’t speak and he accepted no food or drink from anybody. He didn’t even
try any of the banquet. He’d come to work and he’d eaten before he left
anyways. 
There were strategically placed couches along the borders where the dancers
could rest against for when they got too tired, which were quickly starting to
fill up with exhausted party-goers. 
Kurt didn’t realize what was happening at first.
There was commotion and some raised voices and Kurt looked around in confusion
before a person next to him dropped down. 
Then another. 
Then another.
There was screaming and panicking all around Kurt, but one by one, each person
around him dropped to the ground.
Heart hammering, he stared around at the sea of bodies by him, the orchestra
still eerily playing in the background, utterly undisturbed by what had just
happened.
There was a chuckle from behind him and he turned to see a man standing there
in a blue mask. Kurt stared into the painted-on eyes, fear setting in before
there was another laugh to his left. 
He turned and there was another man in an red mask. 
More chuckling as a third in a yell mask joined as well. 
“Looks like this one didn’t eat or drink anything,” the red mask said evenly.
Kurt blinked at the clear English. 
“Pity,” blue mask sighed. “That’ll make things more difficult.”
“Not necessarily,” yellow mask disagreed. “Hades said he wanted to talk to this
one.” 
“Oh, he can’t be serious,” blue mask groaned. “This one? Really?”
“It’s his choice, Poseidon,” red mask admonished. 
“That doesn’t make it a good one, Ares,” Poseidon shot back.
“Poseidon--”
“Not now, Hermes” Poseidon held up a hand, cutting of yellow mask. He tilted
his head at Kurt. “Come with us.”
Kurt stepped forward carefully around the bodies, doing his best not to look at
them and trying not to let his mind wonder over if they were actually dead or
just passed out. He followed Poseidon to the back of the hall, Ares and Hermes
flanking him from behind. 
Poseidon ran his hands along the wall until his fingers caught on something and
a door appeared suddenly. He pushed it and it slid open. Turning to Kurt, he
gestured to the room. “Enter.”
Breathing heavily, Kurt walked in, the sound of the orchestra still playing
ghosting in after him as the door slid shut. 
***
 Heathrow Airport. 
 Their chaperone was busy getting coffee to stay awake and be able to deal with
over twenty twelve-year-olds for the rest of the day.
 “Is everything set?” Blaine turned to Flint.
 Flint nodded. “Everyone has their tickets and passports ready.”
 “I made sure that the luggage was transferred,” Jeff piped up.
 “And we all only have cash on us,” Nick confirmed. 
 “Good,” Blaine nodded, looking over to check that they weren’t being watched.
“Go!”
 The boys all ran as quickly as they could, taking off across the terminal.
Blaine looked behind them every five seconds to make sure that they weren’t
being followed, but luckily they just looked like a group of school boys who
were late for their next flight. They ran down the escalators, past ceramic
murals that streaked by in blurs of color, before hopping on the transit train
to the next terminal. They all smiled at each other, giddy with their plan,
except Blaine who was focused and intent. 
 The train sped through the dark tunnel and he waited. The doors opened at the
next terminal and they hopped off and hurried in an orderly fashion to the
correct gate, heading to the Netherlands. 
 The assistant at the desk looked at them in surprise. 
 “Our teacher told us to go on ahead,” Blaine said, stepping forward with an
easy smile. “My name’s Devon and I’m in charge until Ms. Baum returns from the
restroom.” 
 The assistant just sent him a bemused smile and waved them all through,
scanning each of their tickets. 
 They filled up the back rows of the aircraft, all waiting until the plane took
off into the air. The rest of the boys celebrated, but Blaine waited patiently.
The flight was choppy and filled with the excited chatter of preteen boys on
their way to freedom. Blaine drank as much orange juice as the flight would
allow him to insure that he was awake and ready if even the slightest of things
went wrong.
 Once they arrived at their destination, got through customs with no mishaps,
and were outside of the airport, utterly free, did he allow himself to grin and
laugh along with the rest of his classmates as they ran with their luggage
through the streets. 
 ***
It was a much smaller room, covered entirely in gold. Kurt walked in
cautiously, eyes darting to the center of the room where a man sat in a large
ornate chair. 
He wore all black and gray with a velvet triangular hat that looked vaguely
like something a pirate would wear, and a large mask that covered his entire
face. In the light, Kurt realized that it was a plague doctor mask, and it was
made of the same glass as mirrors, utterly reflective. 
It was the man from the passage. And he was gently stroking the black cloak
that Kurt had worn in that evening. 
“Hello, Kurt,” he said quietly, his voice filling the room with chilly dread.
Kurt licked his lips, shifting from foot to foot. “Hello.”
The man tilted his head up to look at him. “Would you mind telling me why you
crashed my party tonight?”
“Your party?” Kurt asked.
“Of course,” the man said easily. “How else was I supposed to get the sedatives
to that many people?”
Kurt did his best to hide his relief at the word “sedatives” before pressing
on. “Why drug them?”
“Rob them blind,” Hades shrugged. “They wore their best and finest. It’s easy
to lure them in. Create a ball, charge extensively to receive an invitation,
and make it as exclusive and anonymous as possible. They come like flies to
honey.”
“And then what?” Kurt asked uneasily. 
“It depends,” Hades said lightly. “I’ll probably let everyone else decide.
Maybe kill, maybe maim...” He turned to look directly at Kurt. “Maybe even
castrate.”
A chill fell over Kurt. “Who are you?”
“Hades.”
“What do you want with me?”
“Kurt,” Hades admonished gently. “I just want to help you. That’s what I’ve
been doing this whole time.”
Kurt stared at him. “You killed the Casanova gang.”
“The inmates from your prison? Yes. And I insured that you could shower in
peace.”
Kurt blinked. “How?”
Hades’ voice became heavily accented with Italian. “By escorting you there
myself.”
Kurt took a step back. “You’re Ampelio.” 
“Yes,” Hades nodded. “One of many aliases. A thing I know you’re very familiar
with, Kurt. Katy. Dorothy. Ellie. Alexandra. Now why don’t we cut to the chase?
You didn’t receive an invitation from me to come here, so you came for a
specific purpose. What was it?”
Kurt clenched his hands. “To investigate the four murders that have happened.”
“So why would you come here?” Hades asked politely.
“The murderers target the wealthy, so I thought this would be an ideal place to
target possibilities,” Kurt said faintly. “I didn’t realize it was a trap.”
“Logical,” Hades nodded.
Kurt sighed. “One of these days, I’ll go to a masquerade without screaming and
panicking happening.”
Hades leaned back. “So now that you’ve found the culprits, what do you intend
to do? Turn us in to the police?”
“No,” Kurt shook his head. “I’m...looking for someone.”
“Oh?”
Kurt shifted. “Blaine Anderson.”
Hades stared at him for quite some time. “Why?”
“He’s my fiance,” Kurt said. “And...he was taken from me. I’m here to find him
again.”
Hades regarded him carefully. “And what would you give me in return for him?”
Kurt stared, mind racing. “Anything,” he said finally.
Hades laughed suddenly, the sound snapping through the room. He stood, dropping
his cloak as he walked silently across the room until Kurt could see his
reflection in his mask. “I would think very carefully about that if I were you,
Kurt. You might not like the thing that I ask for.”
Kurt set his jaw. “Name your price.”
Hades reached into his pocket and produced a spool of golden thread. “Two
things. The first being lace.”
Kurt took the spool from his gloved hand carefully, running his fingers over
the extremely fine gold thread. “Lace for what?” 
“You’ll see,” Hades said quietly. “We’ll work that out later. And I must say, I
did so adore those little flower stitchings that you made me for Ampelio.”
Kurt’s fingers clenched over the string as looked back at Hades. “What’s the
other thing?”
Hades lifted his wrist gently. “Your hand.”
Kurt’s stomach tightened as he tried to calm every nerve ending inside of him
that told him to yank his hand back. “You...you want me to cut off my hand?” He
knew he’d do it for Blaine--it wouldn’t be the first appendage that he’d lost.
“No no, Kurt,” Hades chuckled. “I would like your hand and your heart...” He
lifted up Kurt’s hand, sliding a ring on his fourth finger. “...until death do
us part.”
Kurt stared at him, unable to tamp down his horror. “You...you want to
marryme?”
“Not immediately,” Hades assured him. “Say...in a little over a week’s time? We
do need to plan for this, after all. What about the solstice? We could get
married on the longest day of the year. That seems romantic.”
Kurt kept staring at him in disbelief. 
Hades sighed. “It’s simple math, really. I’ll be losing one of my own. You’ll
replace him. And I’d need a little insurance for you to stick around once
Blaine would be free.” He leaned in close. “So you’ll give up everything. Your
love for Blaine. Your name. Your entire life from before. Anyone or anything
that you loved or enjoyed or was endeared to you, you will give that all up
when you marry me. Because only then will you be able to stay.”
“I don’t know,” Kurt said coldly. “I’m quite used to running away from husbands
by now, especially ones who try and change everything about me.”
That got a laugh out of Hades. “True. But you won’t run from me, because that
would put Blaine in danger. And you’d do anything for Blaine, wouldn’t you
Kurt? You seem like the self-sacrificing type.”
Kurt glanced to the side as he remembered Sebastian and the debacle that
masquerade had caused when he’d gave himself over to save Blaine. 
“You see, it’s simple. You offered to give up anything for Blaine. So I’m
making you give up everything for Blaine. That is...if you really love him that
much.”
Kurt did.
“So what will it be, Kurt? Will you take Blaine’s place?”
Kurt’s mind reeled as he looked down at the ring on his hand. Then he blinked,
because it looked familiar, except not... the same rubies and emeralds that he
was used to, but it was a silvery metal with designs stamped into it, but it
still seemed similar... “What happened to my engagement ring?” Kurt whispered.
“You’re holding it,” Hades said calmly.  
Kurt blinked before his eyes dropped to the gold thread in his hand. “And my
other jewelry?”
“Melted down for the ring,” Hades said. “I thought it was a nice touch--keeping
everything symbolic.” 
His bellybutton ring, three ear clip-hoops, and the eyebrow piercing he only
wore every now and then, all on his finger now. “And...the ruby that was in my
bellybutton piercing?”
“I’m keeping it safe, don’t worry,” Hades said lightly. 
Kurt’s hand fell to his side as he stared at the floor. That ruby had been the
one thing he’d been able to count on since Blaine gave it to him when he was
five and his entire world was turned upside down. It was the only thing that
kept him sane and the same, the only thing that made him sure of having a home.
And now, without it...he felt...homeless. Lost.
Just a little lost boy.
“So do we have a deal? Lace and matrimony in exchange for one Blaine Anderson?”
Kurt stared at his shoes, jaw tense. 
Hades leaned in close. “You could just walk away, Kurt. No one would blame you.
I’m giving you this option right here right now to leave the city. I’ll even
give you the funds to do so. Leave and don’t look back.”
Kurt stared at his own reflection in the mirror. “But that’s the exact same
deal,” he whispered. “If I left, I’d give up everything.” The world believed
that he murdered Blaine. He’d go back to prison. It was doubtful if he’d ever
see Blaine again.
“Deal then?” Hades asked cordially.
He would find Blaine.
He would take down Hades.
He would get his ruby back.
And then he and Blaine would go and run and find some place where they could be
at peace. 
Kurt turned his face up to Hades. “Deal.”
Hades offered his hand to shake. “Are you sure? Deals with me are final. They
can’t be broken, Kurt. There’s no going back after this. And remember: you have
to give up everything from before. Are you really sure that you can do that?”
“Deal,” Kurt said again, shaking his hand.
Kurt couldn’t see Hades’ face, but if he could, he was sure that he’d be
smiling right now. 
“Welcome, Persephone.” 
***** Part 3 - The Labyrinth *****
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
Part_3_-_The_Labyrinth
***
A blisteringly hot sun sank below the horizon, setting the bright turquoise
waters of the Venetian Lagoon on fire with gold and scarlet and electric violet
as Persephone stared out of his window, mind churning.
He gazed across the water at Venice, stuck inside of Hades’ house on the small
island of Murano, right next to the main city. This island was his new prison.
He wouldn’t be let back into the city until his contract was fulfilled. 
He looked back over at his designs on the table. A crown. He was supposed to
weave himself a lace crown out of the gold thread that had partially been made
from his engagement ring.
But night was coming fast which meant opportunity. 
***
 Blaine’s eyes flew open to bright sunlight streaming through the broken
shutters and highlighting the various dust particles that were waltzing around
in the air. 
 He sat up and stretched, his back cracking pleasantly as the sound of bird
chirping filled the room. “I’m coming, Pav,” he mumbled as he got to his feet,
smiling at the familiar sight of the top floor of the abandoned building that
he and his friends had taken over.
 It had been two months since the flee to Amsterdam. Six of the boys had gone
home. Two had been caught by the authorities and sent back, but the rest of
them were still going strong--living life as they pleased and
unapologetically. 
 They’d been freed from their gilded cages. And Blaine couldn’t be happier with
life. 
 He went over to the window, smiling fondly at Pavarotti. He’d freed him as
well--lest he be seen as a hypocrite--but the little bird stuck by his side,
flitting around his head or perching on his shoulder like something out of a
cartoon, trilling out his melodies sweetly. 
 Blaine poured a little bit of birdseed into a bowl and laid it out for him,
leaning against the window and watching Amsterdam wake up while the little bird
voraciously ate. The quiet was peaceful and perfect, broken only by the steady
tick of the cuckoo clock he had hanging in the corner. It started chiming that
it was seven in the morning.
 ***
He knew Blaine was somewhere in the city. He just didn’t know where.
At eight-thirty precisely, his door opened and Hermes walked in with a tray.
“Here you are Persephone,” he said in his oddly chipper voice. “Dinner.”
Persephone glanced at the seafood stew, feeling a deep pang in his stomach as
he dearly missed Liliana’s lunches. And making lace at her shop. And even when
she’d prattle on for an hour unintelligibly. 
“Thank you,” he mumbled, taking the tray. Hermes turned to leave. “Wait!”
Hermes turned back to him, eyes inquisitive behind his yellow mask. 
Persephone shifted from foot to foot. “Could I maybe go outside for a walk?”
“You had all day to do that,” Hermes said skeptically. 
“Look,” Persephone sighed. “I already agreed to everything. What’s the harm it
could do?”
“Hades said not to take any chances with you,” Hermes smiled lightly. “He said
that you’d try and do something underhanded at the first chance.”
“I won’t though,” Persephone protested. “Not while he still has Blaine.”
“Which is why he’s not letting Dionysus go until after the ceremony next week,”
Hermes grinned, crossing his arms.
Persephone’s mind jumped around as he twisted his fingers. “So you know where
he is? Please, I have to know.”
“Hades wouldn’t like it,” Hermes shook his head. 
“Of course he wouldn’t,” Persephone sighed, sinking back down on his bed.
“Because everything has to go his way, doesn’t it?”
Hermes stared at him for a few seconds before moving to sit at the chair by
Persephone’s desk. “Look,” he sighed. “Just...don’t be fooled by all the smoke
and mirrors. I may not one hundred percent agree with Hades’ plan here, but
he’s not all as bad as he appears to be. And honestly, there are far worse men
in this city than him.”
“Weren’t four people just murdered because of him?” Persephone fired back.
Hermes gave him a sad smile. “Polyphemus was the CEO of a fishing company that
would exploit their workers and pay them barely anything. She’d hire foremen
who’d beat the workers relentlessly. No one would go against her, so she was
disposed of. Prometheus ran a charity for orphans in the city. But he’d visit
the orphanages and have fun with all the nine-year-olds late at night. Always
just the nine-year-olds. So we took him out. Pandora was the daughter of a
politician in the city and so she was very well protected. But she took great
pleasure in telling her body guards to go hunt down and kill the little street
girls and boys who’d ask her for coins when she’d pass. So we took her out.”
Persephone stared at him. “And Paris?”
Hermes’ face turned sour. “Paris was another matter altogether. But the point
is--for the most part we kill to protect our own. Can you hardly blame us?
Wouldn’t you kill to protect yourself, or Dionysus if the time arose?” 
Persephone glanced down at his hands.
“You’re not much different from the rest of us, Persephone,” Hermes said
softly. “We were just lost boys looking for a home, and Hades provided for us.
That’s not wrong, is it?”
“Keeping people against their will is,” Persephone said hollowly. 
“You could leave at any time,” Hermes said. “But I hope you’ll stay. Hades
needs someone to reign with.” He looked at the crown design and smiled. “And I
think you’d make a fantastic ruler.”
He stood and walked out of the room, leaving Persephone to sit with his
thoughts. 
 ***
 Blaine walked into his room after brushing his teeth, rubbing his eyes
tiredly. His hands dropped from his face when he saw his older brother in his
room, leaning over his desk. “Cooper!”
 Cooper turned in surprise, drawing his eyes away from the cuckoo clock.
 “Get out of my room,” Blaine said angrily. “What are you doing in here?”
 “I was just looking at the clock Pop gave you,” Cooper shrugged. “I don’t see
why that’s such a big deal--”
 “It’s mine!” Blaine snapped, shoving at his brother. “Get out!”
 “Fine, fine, I’m going,” Cooper rolled his eyes.
 “Out!”
 Blaine blinked as the clock in the corner chimed that it was noon. He stood
from his window seat and started down the various stories, waking up boys as he
went.
 They had a long day ahead of them.
 ***
Persephone switched his sleeping schedule to night.
At night he worked on the crown, glancing out his window at the stars every now
and then as he tried to figure out where Dionysus was in the city, when he
couldn’t even be in the city.
And that night, he wasn’t going to stop for anything.
***
He moved into action right after he received his dinner. He’d made a rope the
old fashioned way out of bed cloths and escaped out the window.
The house was massive, but thankfully he was nowhere near the front gate, and
the backyard overlooked the lagoon. He shoved through the bushes at the base of
the house before running quickly across the back lawn, keeping low as he raced
across the flowers. 
Three dogs started barking and he cursed quietly, skidding down the slight
overhang of the edge of the property down to the beach before he ran down it at
full speed, legs pumping furiously. 
He ran for half an hour, eyes peeled as he glanced around feverishly for any
sign of trouble, until he reached the closest dock where a small little
motorboat was waiting conveniently. “Go go go!” he snapped at the owner as he
jumped in. 
The boat took off into the lagoon and Persephone’s heart rate slowed as he saw
the distance between him and the island stretch. 
“Long time, no see, Mr. Hummel.”
Persephone wheeled around to see an amused Adam Crawford driving the
motorboat. 
 ***
 Blaine smiled at the street vendor lady charmingly, reaching up to tuck one of
his curls behind his ear--they really were getting long. He’d need to find a
way to cut them soon. 
 The woman rambled on in Dutch--which he only knew a basic understanding of--
while he tried to look sweet and charming. 
 Meanwhile, Nick and Jeff were behind her, stealing cheese and tomatoes. 
 Blaine nodded in the appropriate places, keeping his eye on his two friends
until they gave him the all-clear, at which point he excused himself from the
woman with a smile and a handshake, running around her to go join his friends.
 “Child’s play,” Nick laughed. “And it’s so easy with you because they just
fall over themselves to talk to you.”
 “So sweet and charming,” Jeff teased, pinching at one of Blaine’s cheeks.
 “Shut up,” Blaine rolled his eyes. 
 The money that they’d all brought had started to run out at record speed, so
Blaine hid most of it and demanded that they take what they needed to survive
from the streets. It had been met with resistance at first, but most all of the
boys had taken to the instruction with oddly particular gusto. 
 Stealing was easy, and they only took from the street vendors that had no hope
of ever selling all their wares by day’s end. 
 A shout came from behind them and they all turned nonchalantly. 
 A policeman was charging towards them.
 “Crap, run!” Nick yelled and they took off down the street, weaving in and out
of people milling about.
 “Split!” Blaine shouted and he took off down an alleyway, Nick and Jeff going
in two opposite directions. 
 Blaine jumped on top of a dumpster, launching off it to grab a windowsill and
scrambling up the brick wall onto a garden box before clambering over a fire
escape. He raced up it to the roof and started hopping off the shingles from
building to building, grateful of their close proximity. 
 Blocks away, he found another fire escape and ran down it, flinging himself
over the edge and landing neatly on his feet, like a cat, before running out
back to the street and zigzagging his way  to their hideout. 
 He ran through the door, breathing heavily, and Nick wasn’t much far behind. 
 “I saw you on the roofs,” Nick panted, bending over in exertion. “How the hell
do you even do that?”
 “Nine years of dance,” Blaine heaved out. “And you’d be surprised what being
thrown off a horse more times than you can count during polo does to a person
and their fear of death.”
 Jeff’s head popped over the balcony from the floor up. “Oh, are you two
slowpokes finally back?”
 Blaine rolled to the ground with a groan as Nick glared up at Jeff. “It’s not
our fault that you run inhumanly fast.”
 “Fortune favors the swift of feet,” Jeff grinned. “Or something like that.”
 ***
“What the hell are you doing here?” Persephone asked, agog as he stared at
Adam.
Adam raised an eyebrow. “I could easily ask you the same question. One minute
you’re in prison for a crime you clearly didn’t commit, the next you’ve escaped
inexplicably somehow and your cellmate and one of the gangs at the prison were
brutally slaughtered, and now you’re in my boat looking healthy as ever after
over a month of not seeing you.”
“I was busy,” Persephone mumbled. “Oh, and Dionysus is alive.”
“What?” Adam frowned. 
“Blaine,” Persephone shook his head. “Sorry, I meant Blaine. Blaine is still
alive.”
“Where?” Adam leaned forward. “So wait, you found the gang?”
“I don’t know,” Persephone sighed. “And oh yeah. I cut a deal with the leader
for Blaine’s safety.”
“Really?” Adam arched an eyebrow. “What sort of deal?”
Persephone ground his teeth together. “I have to marry him.”
Adam stared at him. “How the hell do you even get into these situations?”
“Hell if I know,” Persephone snorted. “But I need to find Blaine now, because I
have a feeling that something bigger is going to go down and I need to make
sure he gets out now.”
Adam stared at him.
Persephone blinked. “What?”
“You seem different,” Adam frowned. “I don’t know what it is.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Adam shrugged. “I mean, I’m not going to lie--I thought you
were annoying as hell when we first met and kind of...I don’t know. It’s like
you thought you lived in a fantasy world where rules didn’t apply and you
didn’t need any common sense. But now you just seem...rational, I guess. I
didn’t really get that from you before.”
Persephone glanced at him, defensive. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No I mean...you just seem...” Adam sighed. “Never mind, ignore me. I don’t
know what I’m talking about.”
Persephone nodded. “So, can we go to the city?”
“That’s the thing,” Adam murmured. “I can’t. I’ve tried a couple of times, but
I keep having to linger out on the islands. It’s like their not letting anyone
else in.”
“I told you something was going to go down,” Persephone groaned.
“They all seem to be working for the same guy though,” Adam went on. “Hades, I
think?”
“He’s the head of the group,” Persephone nodded. “The one I’m supposed to marry
in a couple day’s time.” 
“It’s not an airtight system.” Adam stared across the lagoon at the floating
city. “But I have no idea how they rotate around or where any of the blind
spots are, because every time I come close to checking, they swarm like wasps.”
Persephone frowned lightly, mind ticking. “I bet that I could get through...”
Adam glanced at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”
“If I could find out what the first rotation is,” Persephone said, the idea
forming in his head. “Then I could navigate through and find out the pattern.
Then you could go through later and find Blaine, expose this whole thing, and
bam. We’re home free.”
“What, are you going to draw me a map?” Adam asked skeptically.
“No...” Persephone shook his head quietly. “No, I’m going to tie thread.”
“What?” 
“Golden thread,” Persephone elaborated. “On canal corner posts so you can
navigate through.”
“So I have to follow the golden thread that you’re laying down for me through a
labyrinth of mazes to go save Blaine and expose the monster?” Adam arched his
eyebrows. “This is all very minotaur-esque, don’t you think?”
“And that’s you’re new name!” Persephone said excitedly. “I very well can’t go
about calling you Adam. You’re Theseus. And you should only refer to me as
Ariadne.”
Theseus sighed. “I can’t believe I’m getting roped into all this.”
Ariadne grinned. “Don’t worry. It’ll work.”
 ***
 Blaine woke up because of raised voices. He pushed off the covers to the bed
he was sleeping in at his grandparents’ house and pushed open his door.
 It was his uncle’s voice that was floating in through the living room. 
 “...is worth a fortune, and you gave it to him? When have you ever even shown
the slightest preference for ‘Lijah?” 
 “Blaine loved it,” his grandfather said simply. “Why shouldn’t he have it?”
 “He’s hardly even a real Anderson, the little bast--”
 “Enough!” His grandfather snapped. “I will not be spoken to that way in my
house, especially not by one of my sons!”
 Blaine’s eyes opened slowly as Jeff tapped him awake. 
 “Blaine,” he whispered. “It’s eleven. Showtime.” 
 Blaine nodded, hopping to his feet as they went to wake the others. 
 They met at an old apartment building on the bank of the river. There were
dozens of little gangs in Amsterdam, but two were quickly rising to prominence
and couldn’t go any longer without meeting one another.
 Blaine stared at the gaggle of girls in front of him and his friends dubiously
before stepping forward. “My name is Blaine. These are my people.”
 The girls stared back at him ambivalently before they too parted and one of
the larger girls stepped forward. “Lauren. These are my people.”
 “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Lauren,” Blaine said politely. 
 Lauren rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, enough with the semantics. Cut to the
chase.”
 “We want no harm,” Blaine said easily. “And we wish you ladies all the best.”
 There was a mumbling behind him and he shot Flint a sharp look.
 Lauren stared at him. “As long as none of you interfere with us, we won’t be
having any problems.” 
 “Show us the likewise courtesy, and we should get along quite fine,” Blaine
said evenly. “You have my word.” He held out his hand.
 Lauren shook it firmly and the truce was struck.
 ***
Hades came later that night. 
He sat across the room from Ariadne while he worked on lace.
“So I heard that you decided to go for a little stroll earlier,” Hades said
lightly, sitting eerily still.
Ariadne glanced up at him, feeling a chill run down his smile at the unsettling
blank circles that stared back at him, hiding eyes. “Cabin fever.”
Hades remained silent.
Ariadne sat up straighter in his chair. “And I’d be less likely to scale down
the side of the house if you could just give me some information.”
Hades inclined his head slightly towards him. “Pray tell.”
Ariadne’s response was immediate. “Where’s Dionysus.” 
“At the center of the labyrinth,” Hades replied easily. “Oh wait, or was that
the minotaur?”
“Why do you want to marry me?” Ariadne tried again.
“Every Hades needs a Persephone,” Hades shrugged. “At least, that’s what I’ve
been told. And you seem like a capable partner.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Ariadne pressed.
“You’re right,” Hades said evenly, inclining his head. “I never miss an
opportunity to teach a lesson.”
“And what lesson is being taught?”
Hades leaned forward. “Do you really think that you’re doing what’s in your
best interest by giving everything up for Dionysus?”
Ariadne blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your attitude towards him, Persephone,” Hades tutted. “It’s
quite problematic if you look at it through the correct lenses.” 
“I hardly see how it’s any of your business in the first place,” Ariadne
snapped.
“Just looking out for my future spouse,” Hades replied easily. “And while I’m
here, why don’t we lay out a couple of ground rules? You will not leave this
house unaccompanied without explicit permission. You will work on the lace
design that I’ve provided you with. Oh, and if you’d like to work on your
wedding outfit as well, here’s the design for it.”
He stood, walking over and handing Ariadne a sheet of paper. Ariadne glanced
down at it, his insides freezing.
He’d recognize that picture anywhere. He’d been drawing it, the last time he
was in Venice, in that short period of time that he thought that Dionysus
wouldn’t want to ever marry him, right before he got down on one knee and
proposed. “Where did you--”
“You’d be surprised the things that my people find left in this city,” Hades
said softly. “We were well aware of you and Dionysus in our city last October,
rest assured. We were most definitely watching you then.”
Ariadne stared down at the design, a cold feeling settling in his stomach.
Hades sighed, leaning forward to place a gloved hand on Ariadne’s shoulder.
“You look troubled.”
“Does that honestly come as a surprise?” Ariadne snapped back, leaning out of
the touch.
Hades sat in silence for a brief pause. “I have a gift for you.”
Ariadne looked up in surprise. “Oh?”
“There will be a ball tomorrow night.”
“Really?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Held in your honor,” Hades nodded. “You’d mentioned that you’d yet to be to a
masked ball where something terrible didn’t happen, so I’m offering you that
chance tomorrow night.”
Ariadne blinked in surprise. “And there’s...no other reason.”
“Think of it as my wedding gift to you,” Hades said evenly, standing to leave.
“I realize that it’s very abrupt, but I’ve had an outfit made for you, if you
so wish.”
Ariadne bit his lip, considering. This could be his chance. “Alright,” he said
quietly. “Where are you going?”
Hades started, as if surprised. “Just to the handle some business. Meeting some
clients at the Cerbera Cafe.”
“Alright,” Ariadne said uneasily.
Hades walked towards the door.
“Wait.” Ariadne walked forward, placing his hand on Hades’ shoulder.
Hades turned back to him, pausing at the door.
Ariadne swallowed before stepping close and putting his other hand on Hades’
other shoulder. The silence between them was thick and crackling as Ariadne
moved his hands up his shoulders, then cupping his neck over his thick black
collar, before slipping his fingers next to the reflective mask. 
Hades grabbed both of his hands sharply and twisted him around.  Ariadne was
familiar with this position and allowed himself to be forced back onto the bed,
staring into the odd reflective circlets of eyes as his back hit the mattress
and Hades loomed over him, gripping his wrists tightly, the tip of the nose of
his plague mask pressing into the delicate skin of Ariadne’s throat. 
The silence in the room was deafening.
Then Hades released his wrists and stood, brushing the imaginary dust off of
his ensemble. “Goodnight, Persephone.”
Ariadne sat up, feeling odd. He’d just assumed that Hades would want him in a
sexual manner, regardless of his consent.
But he didn’t.
And for some reason, that terrified Ariadne even more.
***
He had the night.
And that was honestly all he had. 
He met with Theseus along the dock, who had his motorboat and had somehow
secured a gondola for Ariadne as well. “Remind me of the plan again?”
“I think I know the starting point,” Ariadne whispered as the sliced through
the dark turquoise waters to the city. “Something that Hades mentioned. Cerbera
Cafe. So I’m going to start there and head to through the city. I’ll leave gold
thread as I go.”
“Why do I have the feeling that this is all going to go to hell?” Theseus
groaned.
“Because most of my plans usually do,” Ariadne shrugged. “But everything always
ends up working itself out in the end anyways, so we should be just fine.
Anyways, I’ll go through the city and fine the correct way through the canals
to the center where Blaine is, leave clues for you, and then tomorrow night
while we’re all dancing at the ball, you can go in, free Blaine, extract me,
and take down the gang from the inside.”
“Alright,” Theseus sighed. “This better work.”
“Trust me,” Ariadne said as he transferred himself to the gondola, detaching
from the motorboat. “It will.”
 ***
 “What the hell happened?” Blaine snapped as he returned to the loft with
Nick. 
 Lauren’s gang was already there, chomping at the bit. Lauren herself turned to
Blaine, her expression livid. “One of your boys harassed Anna and shoved her
into a wall when she told him to get lost.” 
 Blaine looked at the girl in question, who had a small bloody gash on her
forehead. He turned to his friends. “Who. Did. This.”
 They were eerily silent until little Simon piped up from the back, “It was
Flint!”
 “Simon!” Flint snapped, wheeling around. 
 “Flint,” Blaine said quietly. “What the hell?”
 “I didn’t do it!” Flint protested.
 “Yes you did!” Anna snapped back.
 “Oh please,” Flint sneered. “Like I’d be interested in you with those snakey
Medusa braids--”
 Anna launched herself at Flint, but one of her friends held her back and Flint
started yelling out taunts until Blaine yelled, “Enough!”
 Silence fell over the room, broken only by the ticking of the cuckoo clock.
 He turned to Flint. “Did you do it?”
 Flint stared at him. “Why do we even take any of this crap from a bunch of
girls, anyways? You told us that we’d be free to make our own decisions and do
whatever we wanted. That’s why we all came with you in the first place! And now
you want to give in just because a couple of girls make you scared? Come on,
it’s just one girl!”
 Blaine stared at him before pulling his hand back and punching him soundly
across the face. Flint haunched over, holding his bloody nose and cursing
wildly. Blaine leaned down to his level. “We gave our word,” he snapped. “That
we would respect the terms that they gave us in turn for their respect. And
it’s not just one girl, it’s one person, who holds just as much value as any
other. You shouldn’t be less afraid of retribution from Anna than any policeman
that chases you, Flint.” 
 He turned back to Lauren. “Apologies,” he said flatly. “We’ve caused trouble
even though we gave word. We’ll leave the city immediately.”
 “What?” Nick cried.
 “But Blaine--” Jeff protested.
 Blaine held up his hand. “We’ve disturbed the peace. And we should head south
for the winter anyways. That was always the plan.”
 Lauren crossed her arms. “You have a three day grace period.”
 “That’s fine,” Blaine said evenly. “We’ll leave tonight.”
 ***
He pulled his hood high over his head as he steered the gondola past Cerbera
Cafe, stopping briefly to tie a length of golden thread around a visible post
before carrying on through the canal. 
He could see two boats further ahead so he took a right down a small alley,
floating along quietly. 
The silence of the city was eery and the stars seemed to throb brightly
overhead in the thick blanket of the night. 
He sailed past several other canals until he found a moderately empty one and
took a left, going down it before swinging back around in a lazy zigzagging
motion, coming back the way he had previously but a block down, though not
before tying a length of gold thread to a street post. 
It was long and haphazard, but he swirled his way through the city slowly, with
utmost caution--stopped only once and giving the name Orpheus before he was
waved past. 
He did his very best to avoid the main canal at all costs because it was
practically swarming with boats. But at the same time, he knew that that was
where Dionysus most likely was. 
He was about to turn away from the canal again when he saw a large gondola go
by, a familiar mask glinting in the starlight. 
Ariadne ducked down low as he watched the boat travel down the main canal
before stopping at a building two streets down. Hades exited the vessel and
went in. 
Twenty minutes later, he came out again and returned to the gondola before
sailing further down.
Ariadne tied his boat to a post and left gold thread beneath it as well before
he continued on foot, walking down the sidewalk carefully, eyes glued to the
building. He crossed the bridge quickly and raced the last block, standing in
front of it. 
It was a large dark building, the letter M on the front gate in wrought iron. 
“Minotaur...” Ariadne whispered quietly to himself, pushing the gate open and
climbing up the couple of steps. 
The heavy wooden door creaked as it opened and Ariadne stepped in quickly,
darting to the corner. He looked around warily before taking in his
surroundings.
It was a very old looking building, lots of marble and arches. There was a
grand staircase sweeping upwards which he walked up carefully. 
A second floor and another flight of stairs.
Then the third floor, where he found a small spiral staircase in the corner.
He climbed up to the top of the stairs.
It was a small cramped attic space, filled only with the bare necessities of
living. It reminded him uncomfortably of the room he’d had to stay at when he
was living with the Smythes.
And there, in the corner, hunched over, was a sorely familiar sight. 
Ariadne--no, Kurt--lunged forward, a sob choking his throat as he cried out,
“Blaine!”
Blaine was in shadow, but his head tilted up as he caught sight of Kurt.
“Kurt!”
Kurt threw his arms around Blaine, crying into his shoulder as Blaine’s arms
snapped around him, the sound of chains clinking around him. 
“Kurt, what are you doing here?” Blaine breathed into his neck. “You can’t stay
here, you have to--”
He was cut off by Kurt pulling back enough to kiss him roughly, tugging his
fingers into his rough curls hungrily as he shuddered against Blaine, feeling
that sense in his chest that the universe was right again.
“Kurt!” Blaine pulled away sharply. “Listen to me, you have to leave!”
The moonlight fell onto his face and Kurt stared at the faint marks he could
see. He tilted Blaine’s face towards the light, his mouth dropping open
slightly at the sight of the scars that marred Blaine’s face. “What happened to
you?”
“Ran into some old friends,” Blaine muttered. “It’s fine, really--”
“It’s not,” Kurt shook his head, cradling Blaine’s face. “Oh Blaine--”
“Kurt, please, you’re not supposed to be here.”
“Yes I am. I’m by your side--that’s always where I’m supposed to be.”
“Not in this,” Blaine shook his head. “You have to get out. Please. Leave.”
Kurt placed his hand over the manacles shackling Blaine’s wrists. “I can’t. I
made a deal with Hades--”
“You what?” Blaine yelled, his eyes going wide. “Kurt, no! Break it--”
“It was the only way to get you out,” Kurt said quietly. “I’ll stay instead--”
Blaine cut across him quickly. “I don’t want that. Kurt please, this isn’t what
I want. I don’t want you to do that for me.”
“Well that’s too bad,” Kurt said firmly, wringing his hands. “I know
that...look, we didn’t get to talk things out at the cabin all the way--”
“My feelings towards the situation haven’t changed,” Blaine said quietly,
looking down.
Kurt ignored the lump that suddenly formed in his throat as he attempted to
swallow around it. “Well, regardless, I know that this isn’t what you wanted,
but I can’t help the way I feel for you and--”
“Break the contract,” Blaine demanded. “Kurt, I don’t need saving. But you
can’t be a part of this world. It’ll destroy you. Just trust me, I’ll be
alright, but you can’t stay.”
“But Blaine--”
“Kurt,” Blaine stressed. His eyes closed as he sighed heavily. “It’s not going
to go back to the way it was if we somehow get out of this together, alright? I
meant the things that I said back then.” 
Kurt’s jaw tensed as he looked down. “He asked me to marry him.” 
“Don’t,” Blaine said weakly. “Kurt please, just get out of here.”
Kurt’s eyes dropped to Blaine’s wrists, fingers dancing across the shackles. “I
can’t.” His fingers clenched against the metal. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t,” Blaine shook his head. “But you’ll die if you stay here with him.”
“If he wanted to hurt me--”
“That’s not what I meant,” Blaine cut across him. “I mean that you’ll slowly
lose yourself bit by bit and you’ll grow to hate everything because of it. And
one day you’ll look at yourself in the mirror and you won’t even know who you
are anymore. Trust me. I’ve lived it.”
Kurt leaned forward and kissed Blaine softly on the lips. The kiss wasn’t
reciprocated. 
“I have a plan,” he breathed. “Well, part of one. Adam Crawford is here in the
city and he’s going to come for you tomorrow during the ball. Hopefully he’ll
swing by and get me afterwards as well. And...then we can talk after we get out
of the city. Okay?”
Blaine looked hesitant, but he nodded, his head sliding back into shadow.
***
After returning the gondola to Adam and getting his address for the house he
was staying at on Murano, Ariadne went back to Hades’ house, climbing up the
sheet ladder and tucking himself back into bed.
When he woke in the morning, he found an ensemble folded neatly on the corner
of his bed. Picking it apart, it was a floaty pale turquoise outfit that
consisted of high-waisted pants, a sleeveless embroidered top, and a loose
robe-looking jacket that tied asymmetrically around him. 
He was also given soft-looking beaded dancing shoes and a mask. 
The mask was made entirely of glass, most of it clear but with little flecks of
turquoise in it, mimicking the water of the lagoon. On the right side were
glass asphodel flowers as an accent. 
Ariadne held the mask up to his face, and was unnerved at the perfect fit.
***
 The money that Blaine had stashed away got them as far as northern Italy by
train, and then they were on foot for a while. 
 It was only twenty miles to their destination. 
 Venice.
 One of Blaine’s uncles had an inheritance on one of the islands that he’d
passed on to Blaine back when Blaine was still a baby because he apparently
hadn’t wanted it, or anything to do with the family, because he left not soon
after and Blaine had never even met him.
 That became their base. The big house on the island of Murano that Blaine
shared with everybody. 
 Not just their base--their home. 
 And the thieving continued.
 They gained allies in the city. Ones that knew everything about how to scam
the Venetian markets. Blaine wasn’t entirely trusting of Renato and Seraphino
and the rest of their gang, but he went along with them regardless to feed his
friends.
 Then carnival came.
 “You should meet our boss,” Renato grinned at Blaine one night as they pick-
pocketed from the rich tourists in town for the holiday. “He’ll be able to keep
you all under his wing as well. And he has connections with the police as well,
and he’ll be able to keep them off your back.” 
 Blaine frowned. “What’s the catch?”
 “He wants ten percent,” Renato shrugged. “Not bad, comparatively. Do you want
me to set you up with a meeting?”
 Blaine shifted uneasily. He wasn’t overly fond of adults. “Okay fine,” he
sighed. “When and where?”
 “Tonight,” Renato grinned. “Come to the Canal Ballroom. And dress up!”
 ***
The sun began to sink into the lagoon as Ariadne sat by his large mirror,
clipping his hair back with bright blue clips so that he could secure the mask
into place. He glanced at his nails, which he’d painted out of boredom with one
of the odd polishes he’d found in the drawers so that they flashed from
cerulean to turquoise to pale lavender.
A knock came at the door. “Come in!” he called.
Hades walked in, all in black as usual, his mask glinting in the dim light.
“Hello, Persephone.”
“Hello, Hades,” he replied softly, tying his mask back. 
“You look very handsome this evening.”
“Thank you,” Ariadne said curtly as he pushed back from the dresser. “Is it
time to go?”
“Indeed.”
***
 They went as gods, because honestly...that’s what they thought they were.
 “This is so cool,” Jeff grinned under his mask. “Hermes is the best god, let’s
be real.”
 “Please, Ares is way cooler,” Nick argue.
 Blaine rolled his eyes underneath his leafy mask. “Both of you hush. It’s go
time.”
 They climbed out of the gondola and into the ballroom, gaping at the splendor
around them.
 “Champagne!” Jeff grinned.
 “Chocolate!” Nick drooled. 
 Both started forward towards the tables, but Blaine yanked them back. “We’re
here to work, remember?” he snapped, eyes searching for Renato’s telltale
bronze hair. 
 Renato appeared at his elbow suddenly, pulling off his full-face mask. “Come
on, this way.”
 He led them back through the room into a side chamber and Blaine and the other
two boys stumbled in, looking around at the gold in awe.
 A man was sitting in the single chair in the room, wearing a traditional
plague doctor costume. “Hello,” he said quietly, his voice slightly muffled. 
 Blaine blinked, because for a split second he thought the voice sounded
familiar, before he shook his head. “Hi. I’m Bl--”
 “There are no real names here,” the man interrupted. “Names are powerful. You
should know that.”
 Blaine held his tongue, taken aback slightly.
 “I am Kronos,” the man said evenly. “Who are you?”
 Blaine’s mind went blank until he realized the mask on his face, and that gave
him inspiration.
 “I’m Pan.”
***
The masquerade wasn’t held in the Canal Ballroom, as Ariadne had priorly
anticipated. 
It was in the same building that Dionysus was being held in. 
Ariadne felt his hands go clammy as the building loomed closer as they sailed
down the canal, the M on the gate mocking him. 
“I thought a change of venue was in order,” Hades said softly, looking over at
Ariadne. “Since your memory of the Canal Ballroom was so marred by what
happened there last time.”
He just nodded weakly in response, mind reeling. 
This was the building that Adam was supposed to come to tonight when he’d
follow Kurt’s markers.
He was leading him into a trap.
“Persephone?”
Ariadne shook his head slightly before taking Hades’ hand and climbing out of
the gondola and into the building.
Everything inside seemed to glow with a shimmering silver light. It was like
walking into a hazy dream that Hades was pulling him deeper and deeper into.
The orchestra was playing sweetly in the corner and dancers were dreamily
flitting about like silk scarves. 
“Would you like to dance?” Hades murmured softly, and Ariadne found himself
nodding.
Hades steered him to the dance floor and they started dancing along with the
others, getting lost in a whirl of light, fabric, and music.
“So how is this masquerade in comparison?” Hades asked, spinning him around.
“Better by default,” Ariadne said lightly. “There hasn’t been any homicide
yet.”
“Wait until the champagne toast,” Hades shrugged. “I’m kidding,” he amended
when Ariadne stared at him. “But honestly, would it really be that bad?”
“What?”
“Marrying me,” Hades said quietly, dipping him down low. “I’d give you anything
your heart desired. I’d make you powerful so that you’d never have to be looked
down upon again. I would make you a king.” 
“Who are you though?” Ariadne asked softly. “I don’t understand why you won’t
just tell me who you are?”
Hades spun him around easily. “We’ve met before.”
Ariadne’s eyebrows shot up over his mask. “We have? I don’t recognize your
voice from anywhere.”
“Really? I thought you’d have known me better than that,” Hades trilled, his
voice shifting into someone that Kurt unmistakably knew. 
“Cooper?” he breathed in surprise.
“Of course not,” his voice dipped into an Australian accent. “I’m just fairly--
” German. “Good at--” French. “Adapting when need be.” Spanish. Then his voice
switched back to its regular low cadence. “And I’d rather that you know me for
who I am rather than what you perceive me to be through your’s and other’s
perspectives. It just makes everything that more authentic, don’t you think?”
“Or you want to trick me even further,” Ariadne shot back. “And it’s easy to
read you. No matter how hard a person tries to hide a mask, it always ends up
being a reflection of them self in any case.”
“Really, Persephone?” Hades chuckled. “Do tell.”
“You reflect others and their faceted ways through your mask,” Ariadne replied,
looking at his own mirror image. “Claiming to be able to analyze them all for
who they really are. Because you’re too afraid to show yourself.”
“Interesting hypothesis,” Hades inclined his head. “So would that make you the
boy who shows everything, who can’t hide behind masks because he ishis masks.”
Ariadne blinked. “No I’m not--”
“Yes you are,” Hades cut across. “You thrive off of aliases. It’s as much a
part of who you are as that tattoo upon your back. You throw yourself into new
lives because you can’t deal with your own. Kurt, Katy, Dorothy, Porcelain,
Alex, Ellie, Alexandra, Judy, Persephone. You’ve been changed so many times,
forced into so many masks, you don’t even know who you are anymore, do you?
It’s why you and Dionysus get along so well. He creates fantasy worlds and you
create fantasy characters because neither of you can actually face the truth.
“And that’s why I don’t understand why you aren’t more enthusiastic about my
offer,” Hades continued. “I’m not after you for physical needs--despite what
you seemed to think last night in your room. I realize that after being pursued
for so long at such a young age by men who primarily wanted you sexually, it
must come as a shock when one doesn’t, but no. I want you to give up
everything--who you really are, which you should be an expert at by now, to
join my cause and become someone else. I thought that’s all you wanted,
Persephone. An escape.”
Ariadne looked at the dancers around them.
“And that’s the part that scares you the most, isn’t it? Because I think that a
very small part of you knows that I’m right,” Hades whispered into Ariadne’s
ear. “I can give you the thing that you most crave. A place of myth and
fairytale that you can live in forever.”
And Ariadne could see it. He could see himself giving in and just accepting it.
He could see himself floating away with the other waltzers, surrendering
everything to Hades.
But...
“But what about Dionysus?” Ariadne asked quietly. “Can you promise his safety?”
“I don’t see why you’re still concerned for him after everything he’s done to
you,” Hades sighed.
“What are you talking about?”
“All Dionysus has ever done is lie to you,” Hades said softly. “I heard that he
lied about being married. And that he never told you about his past? Did you
even know that he’d lived in Venice for two years during his adolescence?” 
Ariadne swallowed tightly. “No. But--”
“You two were supposed to get married,” Hades pressed on. “Tell me. Did he ever
bring up you meeting his parents?”
Ariadne’s throat clenched.
“Did he tell you anything about his family? Did he even tell you a single
detail about his grandmother--whose music box he so carelessly gave to you the
first time you met?”
“How did you know that?” Ariadne stared at him in bewilderment. 
“I’ve known Dionysus since before you were born, Persephone. I’ve known his
ugliness and darkest secrets. You think him keeping his marriage from you was
rough? Tell me, darling Persephone. Did he ever tell you about the cuckoo
clock?”
Suddenly, Ares came up from behind Hades and tapped him on the shoulder. “We
have a situation.”
Hades turned, giving Ariadne the briefest glance of something on the nape of
his neck before he looked back at him with a sigh. “I have to take care of
something.” 
He abruptly left, leaving Ariadne in the middle of the dance floor. 
He stood there for several minutes, looking at the pastel dancers around him
and at a loss as to where to go. He was abandoned and alone and he didn’t know
which direction to turn or what to do next. 
Not for the first time in his life, but for the first time in a long while, he
was utterly and completely lost.
“Excuse me.”
He wheeled around to see a man with slicked back hair in a black suit and a
cerulean tie, flowery handkerchief in pocket, and full-faced black mask on that
had little diamond-shaped designs on it. He was holding out a hand with a
familiar orange bergamot blossom tattoo on his wrist that matched the one on
Kurt’s ankle.
“May I have this dance?”
Kurt’s mouth opened and then closed as he walked forward, throwing his arms
around Blaine.
“Yes. Yes, you may.”
 
***** Part 4 - The Wedding *****
                   (Cover art by sweet-peach-tea on tumblr)
Part_4_-_The_Wedding
***
“Come on, we need to move,” Blaine said urgently, pulling him through the
crowd. 
Kurt clasped his hand tightly as they moved, going up the staircase that Kurt
had raced up the night prior, but then they headed left to a window. Blaine
shoved it up easily and clambered onto the balcony, helping Kurt out as well. 
There was a fire escape and they ran up it, Kurt flashing briefly back to them
rushing down the fire escape outside of Sugar’s windows to get out of Pioneer
Square. He’d never thought about why Blaine had always been so light on his
feet. Or why he’d never called the cops on him when he’d stolen his credit
card. Or all the other little things about Blaine that he’d taken for granted,
but were now slowly starting to make a bit more sense. 
The clambered onto the roof, the stars stretching above them from horizon to
horizon.
“I can see the Big Dipper,” Kurt grinned upwards, spinning around.
“And there’s Ariadne,” Blaine pointed. “The Northern Crown.”
“Pretty,” Kurt smiled, an unbearable lightness filling him that always seemed
to happen whenever he was around Blaine.
“Here, darling,” Blaine laughed as he tossed Kurt a change of clothes. 
Kurt dressed quickly in the black ensemble, pulling the black gloves over his
hands. Blaine handed him his own black mask--“You’re a bit more conspicuous
than I am”--which Kurt took carefully and pulled it over his head.
“So Kurt, tell me,” Blaine said pleasantly. “How much would you like to go
roof-hopping again?”
Kurt grinned and they both took off running.
***
 “Kronos wants another payment,” Renato said as he eased next to Blaine,
lifting one of the cracker packs from Blaine’s basket and splitting it open,
popping a cracker between his lips.
 Blaine shot him a look as they hurried on. “But that’s twice this week! We
haven’t been that busy.”
 “Then you should talk to him,” Renato shrugged. “Because he can turn nasty if
you break deals with him.” And with that he melted into the crowd, sneaking
another cracker pack with him. 
 Blaine sighed as he altered course.
***
It took less than ten minutes for the chase to begin. 
Kurt looked behind him at one point and there were four men chasing them.
“Blaine, we have company.”
Blaine turned too and sighed. “I figured that would happen at some point.” He
leapt from one roof to another and Kurt followed, landing roughly but picking
himself back up and keeping on.
They were running out of room, though. They’d been only hopping roofs that had
less than a seven-foot distance between them, but they were quickly running
into a dead end.
There was either a twenty-five foot jump, or a ten foot jump, both with canals
at the bottom.
“This way!” Blaine yelled, and he turned, jumping the ten foot length between
roofs and landing smoothly.
Kurt looked behind him at the four pursuers, then back at Blaine before running
at full speed and jumping. 
As soon as his foot left the roof, he knew that he wasn’t going to make it. 
It seemed to happen in slow motion as he sprawled through the air, hand
outstretched towards Blaine, and Blaine looking back at him, his face slowly
shifting to horror as realization struck.
Then Kurt started to fall and Blaine jumped after him.
Blaine’s body collided with his and they twisted around right before hitting
the canal below.
 ***
 “What do you want, Pan?”
 Blaine fidgeted slightly. Kronos always wore the plague doctor mask whenever
he saw him, and it always unnerved him slightly. “I was wondering if we could
have an extension on the payment?”
 “And why would you need an extension?”
 “We haven’t made much this week,” Blaine shrugged. “And we’ve only been here
for four months, not to mention our numbers swelling, and--”
 “Get to the point.”
 Blaine sighed. “We simply don’t have the money.”
 “And you don’t have anything else of worth that you could give me as
collateral?” Kronos asked.
 Blaine blinked, sifting through his mind. “No, I don’t.”
 “Are you quite sure, Pan?” Kronos pressed. “I’d hate to think that you’re
lying to me.”
 The cuckoo clock flashed briefly through Blaine’s mind, but he shook his head
firmly. “No. Nothing.”
 ***
The water was freezing and cloying and Kurt kicked until he reached the
surface, dragging Blaine up with him. He wrenched off his mask as they floated
by a tied-up boat. He tucked them into a small crevice and waited as Blaine
coughed up lagoon water, rubbing a hand over his scarred face and slicked-back
hair. 
“We need to get out of here,” Kurt whispered. 
“There’s no way,” Blaine shook his head. “The alarms will be sounded by now. We
need a distraction, we need--” He turned suddenly, looking at Kurt. “We need to
get you out of here.”
“Blaine--”
“No, Kurt, listen. Find Adam and tell him to get you out. Please,” Blaine
begged. “Please, whatever you do, don’t marry him.”
“I thought you didn’t care,” Kurt said quietly.
“I lied,” Blaine breathed, leaning forward to kiss Kurt roughly. “Please please
please, just go. Promise me?”
“Blaine--”
“Promise me,” Blaine said, cupping his face. “Kurt, please. I would never be
able to live with myself if something happened to you.”
“And you think that I could?” Kurt blinked back tears. “Why do you think I did
any of this in the first place?”
“Kurt,” Blaine sighed. “There’s...there’s things here that are a lot bigger
than you and me. Things you can’t know. Things that’ll drag you down with them
if you let it, so please. Get out now.”
He reached around his collar and pulled a necklace off, putting it over Kurt’s
head instead. 
Kurt stared at the simple chain. There was an acorn at the end of it, made up
of some sort of greenish brown glass. 
“It’s...well, it’s the closest thing that I have to a ruby and four glass
beads,” Blaine said quietly. “It’s a bigger part of a whole, but it’s where my
heart is.”
Kurt stared at the little acorn before grabbing Blaine’s face and kissing him,
fingers curling in his gelled hair.
There was the sound of raised voices nearby and they broke apart, looking
around. 
“Here.” Blaine pushed Kurt up until he tipped over into the boat. “You get to
Adam’s. I’ll draw them off and then tell them that you went to Burano instead.
Okay?”
“Okay,” Kurt nodded. “I’ll come back for you.”
“Don’t,” Blaine shook his head. “Leave. Get as far away as possible. Please,
just for once, save yourself first.”
Kurt blinked, his eyes filling with tears as he nodded and leaned down to kiss
Blaine softly. 
Blaine smiled sadly, pulling himself out of the canal and onto the sidewalk.
“Adieu, darling.”
Kurt licked his lips, trying not to cry. “Au revoir, Mr. Earl Grey.”
Blaine nodded at him before turning to run off. 
“Blaine!”
Blaine turned around to see a nervous Kurt gnawing on his lip. “Will I ever see
you again?”
Blaine grinned. “I don’t doubt it.”
And suddenly Kurt was five again, clutching a music box as Blaine walked away
from him.
He blinked and looked down at the acorn around his neck. Then he laid low and
waited for enough commotion that he could slip away silently. 
 ***
It was dawn when he reached Adam’s little house on the far side of Murano from
Hades’. He was worn out and tired and more than ready to collapse and let
someone else take over for him. 
He found the little pot that Adam had described and tipped it over, pulling out
the key. He unlocked the door, calling out.
Silence greeted him.
Frowning, he walked further into the house into the back room.
He clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his scream.
The room was covered in blood, pieces and chunks of flesh everywhere. 
One the wall opposite was a simple phrase:
 Don’t test me, dear Persephone. 
On the ground underneath it was a small pile of the gold thread, torn to bits
and stained with blood. 
Kurt crumpled into a small ball on the floor, doing his best not to dry-heave
as he sobbed quietly.
Adam was gone.
And with him, his one chance at escaping. 
He couldn’t save Blaine.
He couldn’t even save himself.
After some time, he stood and looked around the room, unsure of what to do.
Something poking out from underneath a pillow caught his eye and he walked over
to it, pulling it out.
It was an old-looking book, completely in Italian. He flipped it open briefly.
It appeared to be some sort of records of ownership listings, based off the
addresses and the names. He turned to a couple of pages that were dog-eared,
trying to decipher the Italian. 
A giant chunk of property had been bought up in the early fifties in Venice by
Earl Theodore Anderson. In the late sixties and early seventies, a large
portion of it was distributed to his three sons, D. Anderson, M. Anderson, and
C. Anderson. Sometime in the eighties, his grandsons got portions too--E.
Anderson, C. Anderson, and B. Anderson. 
Kurt tore through the list of properties, looking up the house at the other end
of Murano.
The house was under the name of C. Anderson.
Kurt looked back at the family tree. Blaine had an Uncle C. He also had a
brother C. 
One of them had to be Hades.
 ***
 “Are we going to get in trouble, Pan?” Jeff asked, fiddling with his mask.
 “I don’t know,” Blaine said quietly. “We could always run if things got tough.
But I think we should wait it out and see what his reply will be.”
 So he sat and waited as the sun sank into the lagoon, the only sound around
him the steady ticking of the cuckoo clock as one by one the rest of the boys
went off to sleep.. 
 At dusk, Renato’s head popped in through the door.
 Blaine waited stiffly.
 “Relax,” Renato rolled his eyes. He produced a basket from behind his back.
“He’s giving you the extension.” 
 Blaine breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay awesome, that’s great.”
 “I told you that he takes care of his own,” Renato grinned, handing over the
basket. “And he told me to give you this. Said that you don’t have enough meat
on your bones.”
 Blaine rolled his eyes as he accepted the basket, waving Renato off. He sat
back down at the table and glanced over at the clock. He should be going to bed
soon, which meant...
 Right on time, Pavarotti flew in through the window and landed on his little
perch on the table. Blaine smiled at him warmly as he unpacked the bowl from
the basket, eyes raised. It was some sort of broiled vegetable dish with what
looked like rice underneath. Blaine shrugged as he got out a fork, whistling at
Pavarotti.
 “How was your day, mister?” he asked with a grin. “Meet a nice lady canary?”
 Pavarotti chirped back and Blaine laughed, holding up a grain of rice for
him. 
 “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually. You and I can’t be bachelors
forever.”
 Pavarotti nipped at the rice before hopping onto his finger.
 Blaine shrugged lightly at him. “I don’t know though. Not really sure if
people are kind of my thing.”
 Pavarotti shuddered briefly before falling off Blaine’s finger.
 Blaine frowned. “Pav?” He prodded his finger against the little bird’s body,
but the familiar thrum of life was absent from him. “Pav!”
 He cradled him close in his cupped hands, panicking. “Pav, what happened!
What’s wrong?” He looked over at his finger that was slightly shiny and he
brought it up to his sight. It looked like...oil maybe?
 Blaine picked up the bowl of vegetables and rice, inhaling the scent and
noticing the slightly sharp smell, like an odd herb.
 Poison. It was laced with poison. 
 He set the bowl down and Pavarotti on the table next to it, staring. His hands
shook lightly before they became incredibly still. 
 The only sound in the room was the heavy ticking of the clock.
 ***
Persephone walked back to Hades’ house, utterly defeated. 
The guards brought him in and back up to his room. 
An hour later, Hades stormed in, the door slamming against the wall. It was the
most angry that Persephone had ever seen him. “So you’re back,” he said in a
clipped voice.
“I thought I had another option,” Persephone said hollowly. “I was wrong.”
“Clearly!” Hades snapped. “I’ve been far too lenient with you. You and I will
be married in two days and until then you will sit in your room and work on
that crown. Your windows will be locked, as will your door. Is that
understood?”
Persephone tilted his head up to look at Hades hollowly. “Yes, Hades.”
“Good.” Hades left, slamming the door behind him. 
There was nothing else for him to do. He knew what Hades was capable of, and he
knew that Blaine was his collateral. 
And he’d rather loose himself forever than to let what happened to Adam happen
to Blaine. 
So he went over to his desk and picked up the remainder of the golden thread
and started weaving it with his needle, forming the gold lace into flowers to
make the crown.
 ***
 He waited in shadow.
 Three hours later, a figure stole in through the door and crept over to the
mantle where the cuckoo clock was. 
 Blaine gave the signal and he lunged, the other boys throwing on the lights.
Tackling the culprit to the floor, he found himself pressing his knife to
Renato’s throat.
 “So it was you,” Blaine said quietly, his voice eerily deep. “You poisoned
me.”
 “It wasn’t me!” Renato hissed, trying to avoid his knife. “Kronos set me up to
it! He said I could have part of the cut!”
 “But why poison me?” Blaine demanded. 
 “He knows you!” Renato said quickly. “And he said that you had a cuckoo clock
that was worth a fortune. That’s why he sent me to befriend you in the first
place--he wants the clock!”
 Blaine glanced over at the clock on the mantle, his jaw clenched. “Then we
should give it to him, don’t you think?”
 ***
Persephone never did get to make his own wedding outfit. There simply wasn’t
enough time. 
The night before he was to be married, he stared down at the white lacy thing
that he was supposed to wear. On the bright side, he’d been married off in
worst.
The crown was finished. It was beautiful--though it did seem like it was
missing something--and next to the white lace, it was clear what its intent
was.
Persephone crawled into bed that night and closed his eyes, accepting his fate.
***
 “You look so pretty dear,” the woman’s voice trilled sweetly into his ear. He
couldn’t even remember her name--he hadn’t known her nearly long enough. His
hair was grown out long and she was fluffing the curls over his shoulders.
“Davey will be so happy.”
 “Come on!” That was Paul. Kurt remembered him. He’d operated on him after
Sebastian... “We’re going to be late.”
 Kurt looked around wildly, scared, as they hurried him into the car. 
 “Aren’t you excited?” Chelsea? Was that her name? She turned around to smile
at him. “Katy?”
 Kurt felt the panic rise in his chest as they drove.
 “Going to the chapel and we’re,” Paul started singing merrily. “Gonna get
married.”
 Chelsea? joined in. “Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married!”
 Kurt found himself shaking as he broke out into a sweat.
 “--I really love you and we’re gonna get married. Going to the chapel of
love!”
***
Persephone sat up in bed, gasping for breath and wiping tears out of his eyes. 
The birds were chirping outside and the sun was shining silver-gold off of the
lagoon.
He was getting married.
***
For the first time, he was led up to Hades’ room and told to wait.
The room was decorated in a dark color scheme. Black bed spread. Deep plum
walls. Black cherry drapes. Dark wood dresser and floor. 
Persephone sat on the edge of the bed in white lace, staring down at the ring
on his finger. He reached up and touched his chest, feeling the bump in the
fabric where the acorn was that Dionysus had given, under his outfit. He
breathed in deeply through his nose and tried to relax.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Persephone looked over at the mantle piece where a cuckoo clock was hanging.
Curious, he walked over to it slowly. It was made of some sort of black wood,
in the shape of a little house with flowers carved inlay-style into it. There
was a blown glass cover for the face, which Persephone reached up and touched
lightly. It sprung open, airing the face to the air. In lieu of numbers, the
various symbols of the Greek zodiac lined the circle, each with a different
gemstone underneath it. 
Frowning, he glanced from gemstone to gemstone, realizing that they
corresponded with the months of the year. 
Further down, were two beaded strings, the white and black beads on them
extremely familiar, matching the ones he’d wear in his hair, only there were
several and they were completely identical. At the end of one string there was
a bright green glass acorn.
Persephone touched the one against his chest, realizing now where it had come
from.
The door behind him opened.
He rubbed the bump against his chest, muttering, “There’s no place like home.”
“Everything is in order, Persephone.”
“There’s no place like home.”
“I got everyone together outside in the garden. I thought we could have the
ceremony out by the flowers.”
“There’s no place like home.”
“Because I know how much you love flowers.”
There was a silence.
“Persephone?”
“You don’t know a thing about me,” Kurt said quietly, staring up at the clock.
“What?”
“I said,” Kurt raised his voice as he turned to face Hades. “That you don’t
know a thing about me.”
“I beg to differ Persephone--”
“My name is Kurt!” Kurt exploded. He reached up and ripped the crown off of his
head, tearing it slightly and throwing it to the ground. “Do you want to know
about me? My entire life came crashing down around me when I was only five
years old. I lost my mother and I was told that I’d lose my father as well. I
was devastated.
“The only thing that made me happy was the music box that Blaine gave me back
then. It was the first time we met. Since then, I have been abused, beaten,
whipped, tortured, castrated, married off, raped, drugged, and traumatized. I
was at the whims of two sets of delusional parents, one psychopathic sadist of
a foster brother, and an abusive pedophiliac of a husband that I was married
off to when I was fourteen. 
“Allof them tried to change me. My foster parents took away my voice. My
brother took away my sex. My in-laws took away my agency. My husband took away
my innocence. And allof them took away my childhood.”
He marched right up to Hades, peering through the two glass circular discs,
behind which his eyes lurked somewhere. “After running away, I starved on the
street, had a mental breakdown, prostituted myself, became homeless for a
while, then when I finally snapped out of it, my female friends started popping
up raped, beaten, and murdered all around me. I then had to deal with four
psychotic serial killers, two of which were my aforementioned brother and
husband. I was still legally married the entire time and pursuing a
relationship with a famous author twelve years my senior. And finallyafter
everything got resolved, we got engaged last October to be married.
“That’swho I am, Hades. Sometimes I turn into different people and I hardly
think that anyone can blame me at this point, but I always come back to Kurt. 
There have been far more terrifying men before you who’ve attempted to make me
change for their benefit, but I’m going to tell you right here and now that
this entire scheme of yours is useless because I am neverchanging who I am. And
if you’re all about morals and proving how better you are then Blaine, practice
what you fucking preach, and give us both the option! 
“If the only way you can keep people here in your little gang is to blackmail
and kidnap them, then be upfront about it. But just so that you know? You are
the last man in the worldthat I would everwillingly marry, which is a pretty
fucking low bar. So if you want to keep your goddamn reputation, you will take.
Me. Home.”
The silence through the room was ringing, the heavy ticking of the clock on the
mantle the only sound other than Kurt’s heavy breathing.
“Alright,” Hades said quietly.
Kurt blinked in surprise. “What?”
“As you wish,” Hades shrugged.
A hand reached over around Kurt to his nose, clamping a handkerchief over his
face. An odd scent filled Kurt’s nostrils as he struggled against the hand, but
then his limbs when sluggish and everything went black.
***
It was dark when Kurt awoke. He sat up in his bed, the feeling of the bed
familiar, but also a faint impression. Like a memory.
Blinking against the dark, the room came into focus slightly, but his head was
still a bit groggy, and there was no way that he could be here.
He stood shakily and stumbled out of the room, around the corner and into the
kitchen where he heard a quiet sizzling noise. Blinking against the harsh
light, he looked at the man standing with his back to him in front of the
stove.
The lower third of the back of his hair was shaved short, odd little geometric
designs carved into it to show the tattooed skin beneath. Three flowers were
inked on him--asphodel, myrtle, and narcissus. 
Kurt blinked again and the figure came more into focus and he realized that
this was his first time seeing Hades without a hat on, and his wild messy hair
reached up towards the ceiling.
His mask was also sitting on top of his head, throwing off light while Hades
was leaning over the stove, cooking. 
Kurt took a step forward, wincing as his foot made a sound on the tile.
Hades reached up and pulled the mask back over his face before turning towards
Kurt, lifting up the pan. “I understand it that you like potstickers.”
Kurt’s eyelids fluttered as he stumbled slightly into the counter, head
whirling. 
“Apologies,” Hades said, walking forward to set a mug in front of Kurt. “I know
how much you despise drugs of any sort, but we had to find someway to smuggle
you back stateside.”
So he really was here. The Greenwich Village apartment in New York City.
Kurt looked down at the mug, seeing that it was full of hot chocolate. 
Hades turned back to the stove, rolling the potstickers around in the oil.
“Don’t worry. Your contract is in the fireplace. You’re not legally...or well,
illegally bond to me in any way anymore. You’re free.”
Kurt closed his mouth against a bout of nausea, but in quickly passed and he
took a small sip of the cocoa. Just the way he liked it. 
Hades pulled his gloves back on before tipping the potstickers onto a plate and
setting them on the counter next to Kurt.
Kurt looked at them dubiously. “How do I know that they aren’t poisoned?”
“Don’t worry. That’s not my style.”
Kurt gingerly picked one up and gnawed on it, curling up on his stool. “Where’s
Blaine?”
Hades hesitated briefly. “He’s going to be staying in Venice.”
Kurt felt the food in his mouth turn to ash. “You said that you’d give him a
choice!”
“I did. He chose Venice.”
“Really?” Kurt snorted derisively. “You expect me to believe that after you
kidnapped him and kept him in chains, he miraculously decided to stay? What did
you do? Blackmail him?”
“I didn’t kidnap him, Kurt,” Hades sighed. “He ran away.”
Kurt blinked, the potsticker falling from his finger tips back down to the
plate. “What--no, he--”
“He left you,” Hades said simply. “He ran.”
“No, he didn’t!” Kurt said angrily. “He wouldn’t do that--”
“Kurt, it’s all that he ever does!” Hades snapped. “Trust me, I’ve known him
since long before you were born. He ran away to his biological mother at one
point, but she turned him out. Then he took his classmates in middle school and
they ran away to Europe and formed a gang. When things went south in Amsterdam,
he ran away to Venice. And when things went south in Venice, he ran back to the
states, leaving all of his friends behind. 
“It didn’t stop there. He didn’t want to deal with relationships, so he ran
into a marriage. And when he didn’t want to deal with his wife, he ran away to
Seattle. Look at what he does! He’s a writer. He spends his days writing other
worlds which he can run away into!”
“But he never ran from me,” Kurt whispered, blinking back tears. “He always ran
after me. He’d always find me. Why would he run?”
“Because he didn’t think that you could really love him,” Hades shrugged.
“But I do!” Kurt said, his voice slightly strangled. 
“You love a part of him,” Hades said gently. “Everybody’s got a dark side,
Kurt. He just never thought that you’d be able to love his. And even if you
could, he didn’t want you to. He’d never want to damage something so bright and
wonderful...” Hades took a step forward, touching Kurt’s face lightly. “He has
his shadows,” he whispered hoarsely. “And shadows become even more stark and
apparent in the light. So the closer he got to you...the more you stitched
those two sides of him together with that little golden thread of yours.”
Kurt stared up at his distorted reflection, his heart freezing over. “Who are
you?”
“Oh, Kurt,” Hades whispered, his hand cupping his cheek. “You already know that
by now.”
“I don’t--” Kurt tried to protest.
“Yes, you do,” Hades said gently. “Because you’ve only been to three masquerade
balls in your life.”
Kurt blinked, confused.
“Kurt. I went as Hades to all three of them.”
Kurt stared at him before his eyes widened and he stepped back out of his
grasp. “No.”
Hades took off his two gloves before reaching up to pull off his mask. 
***
 A hooded figure walked into the Canal Ballroom, back through the hall and into
the side chamber.
 He was ticking.
 Kronos was gazing out the window, mask off of face and in hand. “Renato. You
got the clock from Anderson, I see?”
 “I have,” Blaine said, in a perfect imitation of Renato’s voice. He could only
see Kronos’ profile, but he knew who he was. He began to walk forward.
 “And Anderson?”
 “Death,” Blaine replied, the hood falling from his head.
 Kronos turned, eyes widening as he saw who stood before him. “Blaine--”
 “Hello, Uncle Devon,” Blaine said hollowly as he raised his knife and plunged
it into the side of his uncle’s neck. He ripped it out and plunged it in again
and again and again and again, uncaring of the gargling screams that were
choking through the air or the blood that was splattering all over his face and
cloak.
 His uncle fell to the ground dead and Blaine took his pocket watch out of the
cloak pocket, letting it tick loudly through the room. 
 “Time of death,” he said mockingly. “One forty-nine in the morning.”
 The door slammed open as the other boys rushed into the room.
 “Pan!” Jeff panted, coming up behind him. “What are we going to do now?”
 “Don’t...” Blaine said quietly. 
 “What?”
 “Don’t call me that...” Blaine reached down and ripped the blood-splattered
plague doctor mask from his uncle’s stiff grasp.
 Jeff frowned, brow furrowed. “Well, then what should I call you?”
 ***
 “Well well well.”
 Blaine rolled his eyes before turning around to face Jesse dressed in all
black as well with...Kurt. On his arm.
 Blaine tried not to stare.
 “Jesse,” Rachel smiled, kissing his cheeks. “Always a pleasure. And...” Her
expression hardened slightly as she saw Kurt. “Alexandra, right?”
 “Yes,” Kurt said sweetly, shaking her hand. “Rachel, correct? I love your
gown. Is that a new Marchesa?”
 Rachel looked taken aback at the sudden compliment before preening. “Yes, it
is.”
 “And who are you supposed to be?” Jesse gave Blaine’s black outfit a once
over. “Edgar Allen Poe?”
 “Hades,” Blaine rolled his eyes.
 ***
“No!” Kurt yelled, covering his mouth as violent sobs wracked his body. 
“I’m sorry, darling,” Blaine said grimly as he stepped forward to kiss Kurt on
the cheek before turning to leave, the bergamot orange blossom tattoo clear as
day on his wrist and palm as he shut the door firmly behind him as he walked
out of Kurt’s life.  
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson will reunite for the last time this June in The
Boy Who Swallowed A Star. 
 
 
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