Author's Note: I have no excuse. I'm just a shit updater, and I honestly don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I'm trying y'all.

Y'all that are still with are the reason I don't give up. Thanks for sticking by my absent ass.

Anyways, Happy New Year!

No beta. All mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing. No profit made etc. See Chapter 1 for more elaborate disclaimer.

*WARNING* for swearing, attempted rape, and homophobic references.

It's honestly not that bad, but I'd just thought I'd warn ya.

~C.J.

(Chapter 2)

Kurt screamed at the tops of his lungs when a searing pain burned his shoulder. He heard the hiss of heat against something tender, smelt the burning of flesh, and felt hot fire drag across his wounded arm. At fist he thought this was some kind of torture they were putting him through, what with his struggles being halted by strong hands holding his thrashing body in place. It wasn't that he wanted to cry, but the tears leaked from his eyes without his permission, even as the unyielding object burning his arm was removed for a momentary reprieve.

The prince all but collapsed against the gypsies firmly holding him, trying to contain the whimpers that escaped from his lips.

"Pampered prat."

"Can't even handle a little hot iron."

"Must be nice to live with physicians that can fix ya fancy elixirs."

"The baby prince s'not going to last long out here at this rate."

If anyone else had something to say, they didn't get the chance to comment. Because just then, the hot iron was pressed against his arm again, and suddenly all Kurt could hear was his own screams ringing in his ear. However, someone must have gotten tired of him, since the next thing he knew was that there was a rag forced into his mouth. It was wet, dripping a foul liquid down his chin as the prince gagged on the cloth muffling his cries.

The hot iron pressed more insistently into his shoulder for a split second then, before disappearing altogether. Despite the relief, Kurt couldn't help but choke on the rag in his mouth. Not wanting the taste of that awful cloth on his tongue, he tried to spit it out, only to have a hand clamp over it. Kurt looked in the direction of the hand, only to see those hardened honey eyes again. That damn gypsy from the fight. Was he trying to drug him or something?

"Cease your struggles, your highness. We are truly trying to help." The gypsy, Blaine he remembered his name, said. Almost as if he was answering Kurt's internal question.

Kurt didn't let up, just continued to try and force the rag out of his mouth. Only to shoot Blaine a distrusting look through his battered face when the gypsy refused to let the rag pass from between his lips.

That woman from before began laughing behind him, "your highness? Such formality for someone we just dragged back to camp unconscious."

Blaine rolled his eyes, "You have your way of addressing royalty and I have mine."

"Well, his highness doesn't even recognize the process of cauterizing a wound. Bloody screaming like some distressed damsel." She scoffed.

"Perhaps he feels uneasy." Blaine shot back. "Cauterization can be overwhelming if one has never encountered it before…"

"Then he should have been left to bleed out on the floor like the rest of those noble scum!" Santana screeched. "Not brought back to be patched up over your own camp."

The gypsy sighed, "Santana, he's no use to us dead—"

"Alive he's nothing but a royal nuisance."

"Then how is it at the moment the only nuisance I find is you?" He questioned sharply.

A couple of the gypsies holding Kurt down snickered, Santana cutting off their hidden laughs with one withering sneer. "Very well then, boss man." She removed the belt from her waist, the one that held her sword's sheath and pistol holster. The female gypsy threw them at Blaine's feet. "Kindly sit on your sword."

Then she turned on her heel and sauntered away from them, leaving murmuring gypsies behind her and one very irritated Blaine. He removed his hands from Kurt, who had already stopped fighting any of them a few moments ago. The contents of the liquid he gagged on taking effect and leaving him limp in their arms. Kurt blinked blearily at the gypsy leader, defiantly trying to keep from blacking out as the curly haired gypsy stared at where the woman stormed off.

Blaine took a few steps after her, when another gypsy cleared his throat. "Um…boss?"

He paused, "What."

The sharpness caused the hulking gypsy to shrink back, vaguely making Kurt wonder how someone so small in stature could strike fear and obedience from everybody. Well, almost everybody.

"I-It's just…"

"Spit it out already, Karofsky."

The other swallowed, "Well, I was just…"

Another impatient gypsy rolled his eyes next to him, "what exactly do we do with this?"

Suddenly, Kurt felt himself released and tipped forward so he could fall to the ground in a heap. His face was in the dirt, none of his limbs were cooperating, and being unconscious again just really didn't seem like such a bad idea right now.

"Put in him in an empty caravan for now…"

More murmured words.

Fading voices.

And finally…blissful blackness.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T FIND HIM?!"

The Knights of the Middle Kingdom bowed their heads, fear coursing through them as their general and future King roared at them louder than they ever thought possible.

"But sire…the gypsies didn't leave ay trace—"

The knight, Sir Evans, held back a manly squeak as the front of his armor was grabbed ruthlessly by Prince Hudson. "Look. Harder."

The knight gulped, nodding shakily before he was pushed back into the ranks. "Y-Yes, your highness."

"Sire, we want to find Kurt just as much as you do." Sir Puckerman stepped forward, trying his best not to look intimidated.

"Are you certain of that?" He spat.

Puckerman looked at him incredulously, "Hudson have you gone mad? How could you ask such a thing?" He turned back towards the bowed Knights; "there's not a man here that wouldn't sacrifice themselves for the younger prince."

"You lot have shown nothing but contempt for my brother ever since he joined the royal family!" Finn pushed the other knight.

"When has that ever got in the way of our duty to the Middle Kingdom?!" Puck actually pushed Finn back, surprising the prince for a moment. "Your brother is the worst kept secret within these walls. And whether what he is sits well with us or not, it has NEVER hindered the promise we made when we became knights." Puck moved away from Finn to bow in front of the queen and her king. "Your majesties, apologies for my outburst, and if you'll allow us too, the knights would like to alert the nearby kingdoms of this incident. The gypsies could be hiding within a different kingdom, and perhaps good fortune will even shine upon us enough for them to offer their help."

The queen smiled sadly as she held her distraught husband's hand, and nodded her head, "So be it."

Puck bowed again and then turned on his heel to face the knights. "Move out, men. Our prince needs us."

The knights all obeyed, bowing to the royal family and then turning to exit the throne room. Puckerman moving to follow them, vowing to find Kurt soon so that he can go to be with his traumatized princess.

As Sir Puckerman passed him, the prince's mouth was open in shock, face turning red in embarrassment due to one of his knights chastising him so openly. "How dare you—"

"And furthermore," the knight sighed, "it's not our place to comment about who the royal family beds. We've already become accustomed to your family habit of breaking tradition."

Puck then gave a curt nod before continuing his exit, but Finn's blood was boiling, "PUCKERMAN!"

"Finn…" the queen said softly, "let him leave."

The Prince went rigid, glaring daggers at the last knight as he left the room. "You can't allow our subjects to speak so discourteously."

"Not everyone has an opinion we condone."

He whirled around to look at his mother, "So we just accept them expressing it so disrespectfully in our presence?" The prince turned to the king, "Burt, you of all people—"

"Do not care what the knights think of Kurt." He cut off his stepson, speaking low and solemn in his state of despair.

Again, Finn's mouth dropped open. "H-How? I don't understand."

King Burt sighed very tiredly, "Because that knight was right. If their personal feelings do not get in the way of performing their duties, then it does not matter if they accept Kurt or I."

"Of course it matters." Finn stressed. "You always said—"

"I know what I said!" Burt stood up suddenly, cutting him off sharply. "But I also know what lies in the hearts of these citizens. I lived among them for decades." He was shaking now, but refused to let go of his wife's hand. "How low they think of me in comparison to your father, even lower of my son. You think I don't know?"

Finn shook his head, "How can you just accept this, the way your people are?"

"Because they're not my people, Finn," The king stated, "or Kurt's. They're your mother's, and soon to be yours. So the only ones the people should love and trust, are you two." Burt let go of his wife's hand and stepped towards Finn, placing a hand on his stepson's shoulder. "And if your people merely condone Kurt and I, or at the very least accept the fact that our once two broken families have come together to love each other as one, then there isn't much more we could ask of them."

"No," the prince's eyes began to water, "I do not accept that." He shrugged Burt's hand off. "Why should the people just condone you? Why can't they be your friends as they are mine?"

"Friendship among Kurt and the knights wouldn't change a thing."

"Yes it would!" The prince insisted, "It would make them fight harder for him, protect him above and beyond what duty calls for. Just as they do for me."

"The world does not work that way."

"Then I will make it work that way!" Finn clenched his fists, "You may be content with how things are now, but I am not. When I am king, I will make the people understand, just as you taught me to understand."

Burt wanted to argue, but he just let out a tired laugh. "You really believe you can change the heart of every person within these walls?"

Finn shrugged, "I have to try. If not for you, than for Kurt. He deserves as much. He deserves…to know he is loved."

The king gave a half smirk, nodding once seeing as nothing was going to budge the prince's mind on this. "Well, before you get to that, let's just bring your brother home."

"It will be done." This time, Finn put his hand on Burt's shoulder. "I will not let those gypsies steal a loved one from you again."

There was pain again, but not quite as it was before. It was duller, constant throbbing sensations that seemed to sporadically make themselves known across his entire body. He hurt, all over. But he couldn't move properly, his limbs felt like lead, and his bones felt rickety, like one of the old barstools from Berry's tavern. Why…why did he feel this way?

Amber eyes flashed behind his closed eyelids.

Take me.

Kurt's eyes flew open, the prince suddenly recalling the events passed. He was a prisoner, held captive by gypsies, and they think he's the crowned prince. Fuck, what had he been thinking?

With everything flooding back to him at once, his head pounded more incessantly, making Kurt groan. When his noise was muffled by cloth in his mouth, Kurt realized he was still gagged.

Great.

The prince made an effort to spit out the gag, only to realize it's been tied over his mouth this time. Due to this annoyance, Kurt attempted to reach up and remove the gag by hand, just to find his arms were bound behind his back.

Of course.

He huffed behind the gag, squirming despite his battered body throbbing against the movement. Kurt tried to stretch out of the awkward position he'd been laying in on the wooden floor—oh. The prince lifted his head as much as could, squinting in the darkness to gaze at his legs, and unfortunately his suspicions seemed to be correct. His ankles were bound too.

With that, Kurt thunked his already battered head back against the hard floor. He was prepared to spend the rest of the evening gazing up into the darkness, ready to contemplate how he could let himself be so rash, so thoughtless, so stupid.

The prince sighed behind his gag.

Well, at least he was free of those gypsies for the moment.

A twig snapped somewhere nearby, and a small scuffle could be heard. "ow!"

Damn.

"Karofsky you oversized troll, watch where you're going!" Someone whispered harshly.

"Sorry. It's dark out here."

"Obviously you dense fool. Its called night."

The caravan rocked a bit, and then some scraping could be heard from the other side of where Kurt was curled up. "Are you going to be able to open it, Sebastian?"

"Maybe if you held the lantern near the lock instead of your ugly mug I might be able to!" The other one, presumable Sebastian hissed.

A dim light could be seen shining between the cracks of a door, and metal clicking sounds could be heard as well. Kurt's eyes widened, the gypsies were coming into the caravan. What should he do? He can't fight them off, not with how heavy his body felt and his limbs tightly bound. Not to mention, he is in no condition to even try. Should he pretend to still be unconscious, would that upset them? Perhaps they were just coming to check if he's still where they left him, or checking if he's still alive? Maybe if they think he's still incoherent they'll just leave—

A loud click, "Got it!"

Crap!

Kurt closed his eyes just a second before the caravan door opened, concentrating on keeping his breathing even so as not to give anything away.

"Is he still out cold?"

"Probably. The delicate little prince likely holds his drink about as well as a maiden."

Hey.

"Santana's a maiden and she drinks you under the table, Sebastian."

"That woman of yours is no maiden. If anything she's a right harlot." The gypsy commented, shuffling forward along with his hulking friend close behind. "Now hurry and get on with it. I want you to hand over your portion of the day's spoils as soon as this is done."

"I told you I would and I will. Now just, watch the door or something."

The gypsy chuckled, "But this is so much more interesting."

One set of footsteps stopped, but another proceeded to get closer to where Kurt was laying.

"Sebastian…"

"Fine, fine." He chuckled again. "You and your performance issues."

The further footsteps got even further away, and the closer ones stepped right in front of the prince's face. What were they planning to do to him? Were they going to beat him again? Maybe even kill him?

Kurt felt oversized hands grab him collar and hauled him upright, pushing him back until he was seated propped up against the side of the caravan. His heart rate picked up, but he remained stoic in his false state of unconsciousness. Whether that was because he was paralyzed by fear or morbid curiosity, he didn't know.

What is going on?

Then something surprising happened. Clumsy fingers reached behind his head and untied the gag, pulling it away to remove from his mouth entirely.

"That's a bad idea." One could almost hear the smile in his singsong voice.

"Shut up! I told you to watch the door." The gypsy in front of him hissed.

"I think I can manage both."

There was a pause, the closest gypsy mumbling insults under his breath before turning his attention back to the seemingly unconscious prince. He knelt down with his knees bracketing Kurt's bound ones, getting level with him, and then placed his calloused hands on both of his fair cheeks. For a moment nothing happened, there was just the overgrown gypsy's putrid breath fanning across Kurt's face, making the prince's stomach churn sickly. Something wasn't right. Something was definitely not right.

"So pretty."

Foul, chapped lips pressed against his lax ones, forcing a bruising kiss on him.

No…

The gypsy chocked suddenly when both of Kurt's legs jerked up harshly into the bastard's unprotected groin. He jerked his head back long enough to see the prince's eyes fly open, before he was thrown backwards as Kurt quickly brought his knees to his chest and thrust his booted feet forward into the gypsy's stomach.

"Fuck!"

The big gypsy landed on his back in the middle of the caravan, giving Kurt enough time to use his bound hands and feet to push himself up the wall into a standing position. He was shaking, standing unsteadily, but not because of the pain or trauma his body was still reeling from. He wanted to be sick, he wanted to cry…he wanted his mom.

"You big idiot!"

"Bloody noble!"

"Grab him already!"

Kurt couldn't react fast enough, before he could try and evade them, both gypsies grabbed him and shoved him to the floor. He cried out as best he could, his scream coming out hoarse and weak even in the still night.

"Shut him up!"

The rag was forced into his mouth again, Kurt screaming and wriggling, anything to try and get out from under them.

"I thought you said he'd be out cold?!"

"I said probably you oaf! Not my fault the little prince can hold his drink better than you." Hands tightened on Kurt's wounded shoulder, causing him to scream in agony. "And what's the matter, Karofsky? You only like your bedmates limp and helpless? Not up for the ones that fight back?"

"That's not it!"

"Then get it over with already!" Sebastian growled, "I want my payment now."

"Alright! Alright." The gypsies manhandled Kurt a little, changing their positions a bit until the bigger gypsy, Karofsky, was hovering directly behind him. He reached out and pulled up the back of Kurt's shirt, then grabbed the waist of his pants and started to pull them down.

Wait…WAIT!

Kurt yelled into his rag again, and renewed his efforts in trying to jerk out of the gypsies' hold. He kicked, and jerked, and threw his body around as if he was mad.

"Dammit…ow!"

Finally Kurt spit out the rag and lunged towards one of the arms holding him and bit down hard.

"Little bitch!"

The arm he bit let go of him, but Kurt wasn't going to give him up. He continued to bite into the flesh between his teeth, no longer thinking clearly but just trying to fight.

The gypsy screamed bloody murder, using his free hand to hit and punch the head latched onto his arm. "Karofsky you stupid moron, get him off me!"

Karofsky grabbed the prince's shoulders, tugging on him to try and yank him off of his fellow gypsy.

Sebastian screamed again, "Not like that you idiot! You're just going to rip my arm off as well!"

The big gypsy began punching the prince's head this time, just to be met with Sebastian cursing louder at him and the prince still latched onto his arm, but now there was blood running down his chin. Panicking, Karofsky did the only thing he could think of to next. He wrapped his enormous hands around the prince's neck, and squeezed.

For a second, nothing happened, but Sebastian's screams weren't getting louder, so at least he wasn't making things worse again. Suddenly, the prince began to squirm, and his chest began to twitch. Karofsky squeezed a little harder, and the noble started to make cut off noises of distress, what with not having enough air to complete them. Then slowly, very slowly, his jaw began to become lax, the prince opening his mouth in an attempt to get some much-needed air.

All at once, Karofsky was shoved against the caravan, a gasping prince still in his grip and a very pissed off Sebastian looking at the prisoner.

"You bloody fucking wretch." Sebastian reached for the dagger at his side, removing it and pointing it at the prince's chest.

Karofsky swallowed thickly, "Seb, the boss wouldn't like—"

"The boss can go fuck himself. He's not running the show right now and neither are you anymore. I am." There were those poison green eyes again, staring at Kurt with such malice while he gasps for breath. "Now turn him around."

"But—" Karofsky snapped his mouth closed when he saw Sebastian loosen his trousers.

"You can either turn him around, or you can leave. Just don't get in my way." Sebastian ground out.

The other gypsy nodded, loosening his grip on the prince so he could turn him around. Kurt gasped desperately when his airway wasn't being crushed anymore, tears of relief beginning to stream down his face as he coughed and wheezed.

Sebastian didn't waste any time once the prince was no longer facing him, yanking his own pants open the rest of the way and moving to do the same to Kurt's. "Teach you a lesson you little prat."

"And what lesson would that be?" There was a click at the open door of the caravan. Blaine leaning against the doorframe with a pistol aimed at Sebastian and a near empty bottle of liquor in his other hand.

The air was still for a second, the only sound being Kurt's ragged breathing.

Finally Sebastian scoffed, "Go home, boss. You're sloshed."

Blaine huffed, straightening upright and taking an unsteady step towards the two, his aim never wavering. "Am I?"

Karofsky went ashen the minute he saw Blaine, terrified the pistol would be turned on him rather or after Sebastian. "B-Boss, what—"

"This doesn't concern you, hobbit!" Sebastian snarled, not ready to give up his act of revenge.

"Really?" Blaine snorted in amusement, taking another unsteady advance. "Cuz I thought, with em bein my prisoner and all, he had errthing to do with me." He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, pouting when he accidentally spilled some of his drink.

"Fine then, do as you wish. I was never one to mind if there was an audience anyway." Sebastian placed his hand on the back on Kurt's head, gripping the hair tight and causing the prince to whimper pitifully.

"Back off Sebastian." Blaine said sternly, sounding way more dangerous than any drunk should.

The bigger gypsy was beginning to tremble, "Sebastian, maybe we should—"

"Should what?!" He whirled on him, "leave him be? Forget about what a little bitch he's been just because the bloody boss is drunk and waving a pistol?"

"That's exactly what we should do!" Karofsky pleaded. "Do you really want to get shot over this?!"

"Like he'd even succeed with how sloshed he is."

"Come, come now." Blaine interrupted, smiling drunkenly. "My aim's fine." He waved the gun again, letting his smile fade into a deadly blank expression and making it a point to settle his point blank aim on Sebastian. "M'just less caution on whether this'll kill ya err jest hurt ya."

Both gypsies seemed to freeze at those words, Karofsky looking like he wanted to run and Sebastian looking even more pissed off that before. "You're bluffing."

Blaine smiled again, but this time it reflected eerily. "Then why are you so still?"

Sebastian didn't answer right away, and neither did Karofsky. All three gypsies stood in the dark caravan for a lengthy amount of time, waiting to see who was going to make the next move.

In the end, of course it was Sebastian.

He huffed out a laugh, sliding a fake smile onto his face and letting go of Kurt's hair before he moved to sheath his knife. "Well, if you wanted first go at him boss, all you had to do was say so." He continued to smile at Blaine, even as he tied his trousers back up, but that did nothing to hide the rage behind his green eyes.

"Sure, Seb. Sure." Blaine lowered his pistol, but kept it cocked and finger on the trigger just in case.

Sebastian strode towards Blaine, all the while never letting his sickly smile falter. He stepped right beside him, tapping the back of his knuckles against the bottle the other held, before curling them around the glass neck. The gypsy kept eye contact with Blaine as he grabbed the bottle from him and took a swig. Licking his lips when he was done and holding up his bleeding arm in explanation, "for the pain."

"Right…"

The two glared at each other for a moment longer. Blaine determined to remain unyielding and Sebastian trying to exude the illusion that he wasn't just foiled.

In the end, Sebastian just huffed another short laugh. "Night, boss man." He took the bottle with him as he exited the caravan. Barely remembering to throw over his shoulder a, "Karofsky! We're leaving!"

That snapped the bigger gypsy out of his daze, quickly dropping the prince as he scrambled to catch up to Sebastian and completely avoid Blaine. "R-Right!"

Blaine listened to the footsteps as the other gypsies wandered away. When no more footsteps could be heard, he uncocked the pistol and slid it back into his holder. He sighed tiredly and shook his head at it all. What a bloody mess.

As if trying to remind Blaine that there was still someone else in the caravan with him, Kurt let out a wet cough, his body twitching with the effort—and the pain—that came with it. Blaine shuffled over to the small heap that was supposed to be the prince, who was not surprisingly unconscious once again. He examined the way he was curled up, with his limbs still bound together and blood splattered down his chin. Blaine had to admit, if it weren't for the fine clothing and delicate features, he wouldn't peg this boy for a noble, even less so a prince.

But when it came to Blaine, that was a compliment.

"Alright, come on." The gypsy fit his arms under the prince, and picked him up on unsteady footing. Kurt ended up with his head hanging over one of Blaine's arms, giving the gypsy a proper look at the beating his men, and woman, had given the stubborn prince. Needless to say, he had a feeling more trouble was going to come from this. Whether that was going to be for Kurt, himself, or both…he wasn't entirely sure yet.

"M'sorry," was he all he could offer up at the moment.

And with that, Blaine got his proper footing and carried Kurt out of the caravan.

A/N: Y'all, please review, fave, follow, all that lovely stuff. And hopefully I made y'all smile today. Catch ya on the next update!