AN: Hi everyone! This fic is based on a lovely little novel by Gail Carson Levine, called Ella Enchanted. I suggest you read it if you get the chance, because it is awesome!

Fair warning: for the purposes of the plot, there are some uber cracky pairings and relationships. Exhibit A: In this chapter, we've got Burt and Sue MARRIED and Sue is Kurt's MOM. I know it's bizarre but try to roll with it ;)

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Ella Enchanted.

I have been cursed twice in my life. The first, I suppose, occurred as soon as I came into being. I am drawn to boys the way other boys are drawn to girls. I've always been this way, and I do not know anyone else like me, so it is very lonely. It can also be a little scary. I do not lie about who I am, but nor do I shout it from the mountain tops. Still, people seem to be able to sense that there's something different about me. Perhaps it is my voice, unusually high for a boy, or maybe the effort and care I put into my attire and hair and complexion. Whatever the reason, people tend to look at me a little strangely. In the kingdom of Kyrria, it is not against the law to love a person of the same sex, but many people do not approve of such relationships, and news often travels far and wide about violent acts and angry protests committed by people who detest the idea of two men or two women being together. I know there are others out there who must share this curse with me, but I don't know where to find them.

My second curse came about an hour after I was born. That fool faerie Terri thought she was giving me a gift; she could not have been more wrong. I was an inconsolable newborn and would not cease crying, despite the best efforts of Father and our cook, Carol. Mother is prone to fits of rage, and I'm told she began throwing things about the room, screaming that Lady Susan of Frell wasn't afraid of smacking a baby, especially her own. Father and Carol had fled to the next room, and at that moment, Terri appeared. She clucked her tongue sympathetically at Father, touched her wand to my head and said, "My gift to Kurt is obedience. He shall always do what he is told. Now stop crying, child."

I stopped immediately.

Father and Carol were horrified, but no matter how they tried to explain to Terri that this was certainly not a gift, she paid them no heed. I could picture in my mind Father's eyes lit with fire, rising to his son's defense for the first of what would be many times. I could imagine Carol beside him, a hand resting gently on his arm to calm him while still trying to make Terri see reason. It is never a good idea to anger a faerie, especially one as impulsive as Terri.

I couldn't picture Terri. I didn't know what she looked like.

She refused to remove the spell, and Father and Carol agreed not to tell Mother anything about it.

I remember asking Carol if Terri had cursed me twice, if she had made me feel attracted to the same sex as well as obedient. Carol had held me close, pressing me into her soft, comforting torso. "Love is never a curse, sweet. You needn't feel ashamed or afraid of who you are." I remember telling Father a few days later and asking if he was angry with me. He had held my face in his hands; his eyes said everything, but he still spoke: "I love you, Kurt."

I first became aware of my curse of obedience on my fifth birthday. I can remember the day perfectly, perhaps because Carol tells me the story of it so often.

"For your birthday, I had baked two dozen beautiful little cupcakes," she would begin.

Our head maid Shannon had built me a little picnic table, and I had chosen my favorite outfit for the day. In the early afternoon, Father and I had a tea party, and he gave me a pair of sensible heels as a gift, much to my delight.

After dinner, Carol set down a plate of cupcakes in front of me. "Eat," she said absentmindedly.

The first cupcake was delicious. I consumed the second with relish. The third was a little harder to swallow. Father looked at me as I reached for the fifth.

"Kurt, what are you doing?"

Carol looked over and chuckled. "Little piggy! Let him have his fill, Sir Burt; it's his birthday!"

I felt awful, and so scared. Why couldn't I stop? Tears began rolling down my face as I reached for the sixth cupcake. Each bite was now like torture; the sticky mix of icing and cake kept clinging to my tongue and throat as I struggled to force it down.

Father understood what was happening first. "Kurt, stop eating!"

I stopped.

It did not matter who it was that issued me a command; I had to follow it no matter what. If I tried to resist, I would be overcome with intense pain and nausea, which abated as soon as I obeyed. It had to be a direct order, such as "Go to bed," or "You must pick up your toys." I had no troubles ignoring "Why don't you go to bed?" or "I wish you would pick up your toys."

This curse was inconvenient at best, and highly dangerous at worst. Someone could order me to hop on one foot all day. Someone could demand that I give them all my money. Someone could tell me to cut off my own head, and I'd have to do it.

Father had asked my fairy godmother to take away the curse, but she had said that only Terri could remove it. The only other chance was for me to break the curse myself. But I didn't know how, and I didn't know who my fairy godmother was to ask her.

Terri's plan to make me an accommodating and dutiful child backfired spectacularly. Instead, the spell made a rebel out of me. Father rarely demanded that I do anything. Mother knew nothing of the cure, and was rarely around to interact with me. But Carol had a never-ending supply of kind, for-your-own-good orders. "It's cold out, Kurt; your hair doesn't matter. Put on your hat." "Hold this bowl while I stir, sweet." I resented such commands and made this known by obeying them in the most frustrating ways. I would hold the bowl, but move around the kitchen. Carol would laugh and scold me, and then change her instructions, which I would proceed to evade in some other way. We would continue to play this game, with Father watching in amusement and egging us on, until either I chose to obey or Carol changed her command to a request.

When I was nine, I made a friend of one of the servants named Becky. We were playing one afternoon in early winter when Carol came outside and told me to put on my hat. I placed it on my head gingerly as she went back inside and grumbled to Becky.

"I hate it when she's bossy."

Becky looked smug. "I always obey my elders."

"Well, you don't have to," I whined.

"Yes I do! If I don't, Father will slap me."

"It's different for me. Guess what? I'm under a spell!" I suddenly felt important, like the prince or princess in one of the fairy tales Father always read to me. Becky's eyes widened comically.

"Tell me your spell or I will cut you!"

I laughed at her excitement and told her.

"So if anyone gives you an order, you have to obey? Even me?"

"Yes."

"Can I try?"

"No," I snapped out. I hadn't expected this. "Let's have a race."

"Fine. But I command you to lose."

"Let's not race."

"I command you to race, and I command you to lose."

We raced; I lost.

We made flower circlets; I had to give Becky the nicest, most colorful ones. We played princesses and ogres; I had to be the ogre every time. After an hour into our play, I was screaming at her, calling her all sorts of nasty names. She began to cry.

I never saw Becky again. Father found her family a new situation far, far away, and after scolding me for the things I said to Becky, he gave me a rare order: to never tell anyone about the curse. It was unnecessary; I had learned to be careful.

Right after I turned fifteen, Father and I caught cold. Carol whipped up her special curing soup. It had many herbs and vegetables, as well as a single strand of unicorn hair each. Father and I both wrinkled our noses at those hairs floating around in the broth. Carol had ordered that we eat the unicorn hairs, but because Father was not under a curse, he ate everything but, and plucked the hair out. I grimaced as I ate mine.

The next morning I was feeling much better, but Father was looking worse than ever. I applied cool cloths to sooth his fever and held his hand while he slept. I sang to him softly and he would smile in contentment, but then a coughing fit would interrupt our moment. That night, before I left for bed, Father squeezed my hand faintly and said, "Good night, buddy. I love you." That was the last thing he ever said to me.

As I left the room, I heard his last words to Carol: "I'm not even that ill. Don't send for Lady Susan, Carol. I'd rather have you here with me."

The following day, Father was awake, but it was as though he wasn't there. His gaze was unfocused and he mumbled things incoherently under his breath. He didn't speak directly to Carol or myself.

The village physician came calling, and I wandered down the hallway after he shooed me away from Father. I came up to the staircase and thought of all the fun Father and I had had so many times when we slid down the banister. We would slide over and over, running back up the stairs each time, yelling and singing as we sailed down.

I eventually made my way down the stairs and outside, completing the long walk to the old castle just outside of Frell. I wanted to make a wish and knew that it was most likely to be answered if I made it there.

I went to the candle grove, ignoring the skittering of mice and the overgrown vines hanging over my head. To make a wish, I needed to give something in return. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and contemplated what I could offer.

"If Father gets better soon, I will try to accept myself for who I am, and I won't let others shame me for it."

I didn't bargain for Father's life, because I didn't know that he was dying.

I know I know! It kills me, too! I love Burt! I'm not a fan when fics set in the Gleeverse kill him off, but it is really important for this story.

I'll make it up to you: Next chapter, we have Sir Burt's funeral (sob) and Kurt meets Blaine!