So, come on, you guys. How fast was that update? ;)

I've decided that I wish I could draw so that I could show you all of the fabulous (and also Rachel) 16th century, upper-class Englishmen and pirate outfits, but all I'm capable of drawing is hearts and for some strange reason incredibly detailed wild boars. MY FASHIONABLE CREYS. I will never be Alexander McQueen Version Awkwardly-Tall-Ginger-Girl point 0.

AND I GOT MY BRACES OFF! (Nobody cares.)

So, according to King Brad, the High and Mighty God of Sanity on Glee (who's kingdom and Immortal Domain are fighting a losing battle with the Murphinator) Chris, Cory and Leah aren't leaving when they graduate! YAY FINCHELURT! Which sounds like finch alert.

I would like to be alerted if there was a finch in the area. I would prance around like Snow White and serenade it with Phantom of the Opera or the Backstreet Boys. Then I would accept an apple from a strange old woman.

And die.

But then I would be brought back to life by a man I'd met once who makes a habit of stalking women when they're doing chores, and kissing dead people.

Just saying. :D

Blaine stared open-mouthed. The man in front of them was attractive (no, like, really attractive) with blonde hair, grey-green eyes and apparently no reason to wear a shirt.

Also wings.

Big, fluffy white ones. With feathers. They were the reason Blaine was staring slack-jawed at him.

(Well, mostly. He was a teenage boy, after all.)

"Who are you?" asked Kurt, who's hand had flown to the place on his belt where his sword would usually be.

Except it wasn't, because they'd been kidnapped by Dame Blueberry McOcean-Skin. Fantastic.

When this was all over Blaine was going to move far, far in land and get himself a secluded shack and a team of attack dogs.

"Zephyrus," the man smiled taking a step forwards. "You may have heard of me."

"Of course," said Kurt automatically at the same time Blaine said, "No. Should I have?"

Zephyrus paused and stared at him curiously, raising an eyebrow. Blaine squirmed uncomfortably under his disbelieving gaze and Kurt sighed. "We're going to die," he muttered. "We're going to die and I haven't even captained a ship yet."

Zephyrus walked up to Blaine, crossing his arms and staring at him levelly. Blaine looked back at him, blinking nervously. After a few minutes Zephyrus snorted and dropped his arms. "I'm not sure if you're brave or stupid, Anderson. Most people wouldn't tell a God they don't know who he is."

Oh. Oh.

Well, yeah. Okay.

That certainly explained the wings.

"I am Zephyrus," he said stepping away and sweeping his arms out grandly. "The West Wind," he finished in a booming voice.

There was a pause.

Blaine stuck his hand out. "I'm Blaine." Zephyrus stared at him incredulously again. Kurt swatted his hand down.

"So not the time for humor," muttered Kurt.

"I thought it might lighten the atmosphere."

"Blaine, you know I think you're amazing, but we're going to need to talk about what is appropriate in certain social situations."

"Social situations? Do you frequently hang out with winged Gods?"

"Not at the moment, but something tells me I'll be doing it a whole lot more now."

Zephyrus quirked a smile. "You know, Anderson," he said, running a hand through his hair thoughtfully. "I think I like you."

"Oh my God," muttered Kurt. His eyes were wide. "Oh my God you're going to die. You're going to get hit with a discus and your blood is going to make a flower and then they're going to name it after you, because you'll be dead."

"That," said Blaine, looking at him curiously, "was oddly specific."

Kurt sighed, putting a hand to his forehead and brushing a piece of hair off of it. "Oh, Blaine, you're a gentlemen. Don't you read?"

Blaine thought about it. "Sometimes, I throw paper in the air."

Kurt stared at him, blank-faced. "You're lucky you're so charming."

"Thank you!"

"Bored now," chimed Zephyrus. He turned to Kurt and fixed him with a steely gaze, unfolding his wings and extending them in what must have been an attempt to appear more threatening. "So, Hummel, I'll ask you one more time." He raised an arm grandly once more. "Why have I been chasing you across the oceans?"

Kurt stared back at him, stone faced. He's disturbingly good at that. "You know, if you'd come in literally 5 minutes earlier you would have heard me explain it to Blaine already. I don't know why we're here. I don't know what's missing. Somebody in our fleet screwed up. I don't see why the rest of us have to be held accountable for-"

"Missing?" Zephyrus cut him off, arching an eyebrow. "Aha! So you've stolen something?"

"No!" Kurt's hands flew to his hair, nearly running through it before he stopped himself (Blaine wasn't going to point out that it was already windblown and messy—not that he minded) and clenched his fists, lowering them shakily. "We haven't done anything. All I know is that the Gods are angry and that somebody in the fleet did something to bother them."

"Right," said Zephyrus, crossing his arms and folding his wings in tandem. He shifted his weight to one foot and gave Kurt his best bitch face (and Oh my God, thought Blaine. If this guy wasn't immortal he'd be dead by now), before continuing in a very put upon voice, "and I believe you."

Kurt pursed his lips and flexed his fists a little. Blaine shifted himself behind him discreetly. Zephyrus turned amused eyes to him and he flushed a little, gazing down at his tattered brown boots.

"We didn't do anything," said Kurt insistently. "Now- Let us go!" He raised his hand hand with a commanding flourish and attempted to look down at Zephyrus (quite a feat, since they were almost exactly the same height).

Zephyrus snorted. "With-holding information isn't going to do anything. You're part of a traitor's fleet and you're in cahoots with the Andersons!" He flung a finger out dramatically, pointing at Blaine.

Kurt narrowed his eyes curiously. "What do the Andersons have to do with anything?"

"I can't believe he just said cahoots," muttered Blaine.

Zephyrus threw back his head and laughed exaggeratedly. "You dare continue with your insolence, pale mortal?"

Blaine tilted his head to the side and cut in before a bristling Kurt could respond. "You don't actually know, do you?"

Zephyrus's cheeks and wings tinted pink. "Quiet, Anderson."

"Dude, you've been owned. Give up." Blaine and Kurt spun around again to see the source of the newest voice, Blaine tripping again (those boots? Falling apart and unhelpful. Blaine gave it about a week until Kurt made him borrow a pair to replace them—provided they survived, of course) and falling back a little into Kurt who caught him with an exasperated sigh and a small, fond smile.

"I haven't been owned!" said Zephyrus indignantly.

"No," said the owner of the new voice. "No, you have." He was a tall guy, muscular, with cold icy blue eyes and what looked like a sailor's uniform, done all in black and silver. "I would give up, you know, pre-CZF." He smirked, shrugging his shoulders with his arms crossed. On his left was a short boy with long, white-blonde hair, grey eyes and a silver tunic, and on his right was the Blue girl from the ship.

"Oh my God," murmured Blaine, pressing in closer to Kurt and clinging to his jacket. "Jesus Christ—It's her. Kurt, she's going to rip my heart out and feed it to Pavarotti."

"Pavarotti isn't here, Blaine," Kurt told him soothingly, "but let go of the jacket before I do that to you. This is Italian."

Blaine unlatched the fabric and clung tightly to Kurt's entire arm instead. Kurt blinked down at him and sighed.

"What in Zeus' name," asked the boy on the left, "is CZF?"

"Continual Zephyrus Failure," smirked the tall one. "Do you like it? I cam up with all on my own."

"Yeah, Boreas," snorted the girl. "You're a regular genius. The next Shakespeare, really."'

The guys (Boreas, apparently) glared at her and stuck out his tongue childishly, framing his face with his hands and making flaily gestures with his fingers.

The girl snorted. "I actually cannot believe you're the most well know. Boreas the Great North Wind—Eternal toddler appearing as an overly-buff sailor. Wont the ladies come flocking."

"Eurus," said Zephyrus warningly, "don't start anymore fights. You know how Dad gets about those."

Eurus looked indignant, but crossed her arms and pouted her pale purple lips, looking away from them with a roll of her eyes.

"Eurus?" Kurt whispered incredulously in Blaine's ear. "I could've sworn all the winds were-"

"Men?" snapped Eurus. When Kurt's eyes widened a little she continued. "Yeah, I can here you, pretty boy. Sound carries on wind. I'm the East Wind. See how that could work?" She angled her head forwards and glared at them, giving the effect of a charging pull.

Blaine squished himself a little closer to Kurt, who in turn wrapped an arm around his waste. "I'm sorry," said Kurt. "It's not that you aren't lovely—you're very pretty, really, I would never think you were a man. I was just confused, because all the books-"

"Neglected to mention that I was a chick?" Eurus eyes were blazing grey, wind was starting to pick up in the stone basin and a thick fog seemed to be rolling out of nowhere.

"Oh, here we go again," muttered Boreas with a roll of his eyes.

"I just told her not to start any fight," said Zephyrus. "Notus, didn't I just tell her not to start anymore fights?"

"Shut up, Zephyrus," muttered the blonde boy. Notus, Blaine supposed. The South Wind by process of elimination, Blaine supposed. "Nobody cares."

"Eurus the Unfavorable one!" Eurus was shrieking as the clouds got thicker. Kurt gripped Blaine tighter trembling a little and Blaine felt himself fill with dread when he realized that Kurt was just as terrified as he was. "Nobody wants Eurus! Nobody cares about Eurus! Nobody can be bothered to check the fucking gender of Eurus before they start telling stories! He's just the foggy one who gets all the shepherds lost! Fuck shepherds! I want-"

"EURUS!" A voice boomed from what was seemingly the sky itself.

Eurus cut off mid-rant eyes widening and skin paling a little. The wind whooshed out of the basin carrying the fog with it, and leaving Blaine and Kurt clinging together, their foreheads pressed against one another from shielding their faces from the sting of the cold air.

"F-Father," she called nervously.

"What's the rule, Eurus?" The voice was so loud it rattled the walls of the cave. Kurt winced and pressed closer to Blaine, who took one hand off of Kurt's arm to wrap it around his shoulders, still shaking a little.

"I'm sorry, Father." Eurus looked wounded, staring at her feet.

"WHAT'S THE RULE?"

Kurt squeaked and Blaine squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

"Don't do anything without orders, sir," Eurus managed.

"Get back to work, all of you!" the voice rumbled. "Give it until morning and try for answers again."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, father."

"Yes, father."

"Sure thing, Dad!"

There was long stretch of silence Blaine opened his eyes to see Kurt doing the same. The stared at each other for a few seconds before flushing and moving away. Feathery white wings caught Blaine's eye over Kurt's shoulder. Zephyrus was still with them.

"Do you have a light with you?" he asked. "A candle—Or a lantern, maybe?"

"Sorry," said Kurt irritably. "I guess I should make a habit of carrying them while I'm being kidnapped." He snorted and crossed his arms. "I'm new to being a hostage." He waved his hand around the cave.

"I'm not," chimed Blaine.

Zephyrus smiled fondly at him, his eyes twinkling, stepping in front of Kurt, who looked indignant. He took the pendant from around his neck and held it out. Kurt began making frantic negative gestures with his hand in the background and mouthing 'No' exaggeratedly. "It's a gift from Apollo. A piece of Helios' sun chariot. We're actually pretty good friends when we're not fighting over mortals." He gestured with his hand. "Take it." Kurt shook his frantically.

Blaine held his hand out and grasped the pendant, turning it over in his hand. "Thanks."

Kurt slapped his own forehead.

"Why are you giving this to me?" asked Blaine.

"It's about to get pretty dark in here. Trust me, you'll want it. You can give it back later- or not." He flashed a handsome smile before glancing up at the opening where his siblings had disappeared. "Whatever you do," he said in a low warning voice, stepping closer to them and looking Blaine directly in the eyes, "don't give him a fake story."

"Why?" asked Blaine. "What if we don't have a real one?"

"As soon as he gets an answer," said Zephyrus seriously, "he'll kill you."

And then he gone, flying dramatically upwards towards the sky.

"Well," said Blaine weakly, "I definitely want to tell his Dad what's happening now."

Kurt sighed. "Oh, Blaine."

There was a loud groaning sound from overhead and they looked up to see a large back shape moving steadily across the ceiling of the basin. "They're sealing it off," muttered Kurt. "What do they think we're going to do? Fly out? We can't all choose to appear with ridiculous wings." He crossed his arms huffily and Blaine felt the strange urge to cuddle him, except he thought Kurt might punch him if he tried.

When the ceiling was completely covered (presumably by a giant rock) the cave was pitch black. There was a few seconds spent in the eerie darkness and then the pendant in Blaine's hand lit up suddenly, glowing a bright white and causing Kurt and Blaine to blink frantically as their eyes adjusted to the intense light.

"Well," said Blaine, rolling it over in his palm, "that's going to be helpful."

"I wish you hadn't taken it," Kurt murmured, moving to stand next to Blaine and taking it out of his hand to put hang it around his neck. He tugged lightly on it and then sighed before sitting down on the ground.

"Why?" asked Blaine. He sat down cross-legged in front of Kurt. "It's dark. We need a light."

"Blaine, you don't take gifts from Gods lightly." Kurt paused, apparently mulling over his choice of words carefully. "Zephyrus is interested in you. You really don't want that."

"I—what?" Blaine stared down at the pendant hanging from his neck and then back at Kurt, wide-eyed. There was no way—Wouldn't he have noticed? "No."

"Yes," said Kurt seriously. "That necklace isn't charity. He likes you. Well, no." Kurt paused to consider it. "He's a God, so honestly, he's probably madly in love by now."

"What?" Blaine repeated. "Kurt, there's no way-"

"Blaine," said Kurt seriously, "look at yourself. You're gorgeous. That's all they need to know before they decide they want to kidnap you, or have horse children with you."

"No, I'm sorry." Blaine stared at him. "That one needs explaining."

"The kidnapping?"

"The horse children. I am so over kidnapping at this point that it isn't even funny."

"Zephyrus and Podarge—she's a harpy-"

"Kurt!" Blaine looked at him, scandalized.

"What? No! No, I mean she's an actual harpy." Kurt shook his head, looking amused. "They had blessed, talking war horses together."

Blaine blinked at him. "I don't think it's physically possible for me to do that. God or not."

Kurt sighed. "It's just an example, Blaine."

Blaine was now panicking. "So, wait, he likes me-"

"Loves you," corrected Kurt.

"-and when I took the necklace I basically-"

"Yup."

"Jesus Christ."

"Okay, Blaine, after today I think we've established that's he's going to be about as much help to you as Finn would be to a pair of glass slippers." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Give me awhile to come up with a new exclamatory statement," muttered Blaine. "My world has been rocked. Yesterday I was kidnapped by you, today I'm kidnapped by a crazy Wind God who think he's in love with me.

"And feels like he needs wings," put in Kurt.

"And apparently no shirt," muttered Blaine.

Kurt's mouth fell open and then he glared at him.

"What?" asked Blaine. "Like you didn't notice!"

"Of course I di- That's not the point, Blaine!" Kurt flailed his arms out.

"Then what is?"

Kurt grumbled a little and flopped on his back wincing as his head smacked the rock floor. "Ow," he muttered.

"Are you okay?" asked Blaine, reaching out a concerned hand.

"Yes," snapped Kurt batting his hand away. "Now, don't talk to me. I'm sleeping."

"Sleeping?" asked Blaine incredulously. "It hasn't even been half an hour since we woke up!"

"And in that time I was very stressed out," said Kurt seriously, rolling over onto his side. "If you don't want to sleep go take your light over there and start planning the colors of the nursery for your horse babies."

"Kurt!"

"I told you! I'm sleeping!"

Neither of them actually slept.

Within ten minutes Kurt was rolling over. "Blaine," he whispered, "what do you think happened to my Dad, and to Finn and Rachel and Mercedes and-"

"Whoa, Kurt," Blaine turned so that they were facing each other, untucking the pendent from his shirt so that the light shines between them.

"Sorry," muttered Kurt. "It's just that we're here, so where are they?"

"They came onto the island-"

"The island," said Kurt hysterically, "where Aeolus lives in the sky and sounds like Rachel when I stole her crocodile dress!"

"You what?" asked Blaine incredulously.

"I had too," said Kurt. "They were embroidered Blaine. Embroidered silver crocodiles on burgundy velvet. It was offensive."

"What did you do with it?" asked Blaine curiously.

"I ritually sacrificed it and fed its burnt remains to Finn, to help him absorb the strength and grace of the crocodile," said Kurt seriously.

Blaine raised an eyebrow.

Kurt laughed awkwardly. "I'm kidding."

He tilted his head for added effect, trying to fight back the grin twitching at the corners of his lips.

"Blaine, you know I'm not being ser-" Kurt stopped his nervous rambling, eyes widening comically before smacking Blaine's shoulder lightly. "You're messing with me!"

"You're being hilarious! I couldn't resist!"

"I'm in crisis mode, Blaine. This is a serious issue. You have to resist!"

"Maybe you should calm yourself down by sending a fur coat to the Gods."

"Blaine!"

"Kurt!"

Kurt smacked his shoulder again, before bursting out laughing, rolling onto his back with a large smile on his face. "Thanks," he said seriously, "for trying to calm me down." Blaine smiled and reached an arm out, patting his forehead. Kurt batted it away and stuck his tongue out childishly. "Really, though. Do you think they're okay?"

"Honestly?" asked Blaine. Kurt nodded. "I think… I think that your Dad is terrifying and… and the only person I can think of who could stand up to a Greek God and get away with it is him." He smiled reassuringly.

"And you," said Kurt.

"Me?" asked Blaine surprised. "I hid behind you."

"Blaine, you called him out on not knowing what was going on!" said Kurt. "Which, by the way, was completely dangerous," he admonished. "I can't believe he didn't tear you apart in a cyclone or something."

Blaine paled. "Oh my God, Kurt. Why would you even say that?"

Before Kurt could answer there was a loud echoing bang and the boys where shrieking a launching themselves at each other, clinging together in a bizarre, joint fetal position.

"What was that?" asked Kurt.

"Probably just the wind on the rocks," said Blaine nervously.

"Yes," said Kurt nodding. "Yes. I think." There was another bang, and he clutched Blaine tighter. "Maybe."

"Right." Blaine rubbed soothing circles on Kurt's back; his hazel-eyes were alight with panic. "It makes sense."

"Oh God," said Kurt, pulling back with a horrified look on his face. "There's no way that's it then."

Another bang and a loud Squawk!.

Blaine froze. "No way."

A final bang and then an explosion of the wall directly behind Kurt that had him shouting something unintelligible and slamming Blaine to the ground (again), lying on top of him to shield him from the flying debris as Blaine's hands flew up to do the same for the back of Kurt's head.

After about a minute Kurt rolled off of him and the two of them sat up slowly, wearily eying the source of the explosion. The dust cleared to reveal four women. The first was a pretty Latina girl in a red corset and and dress with her hair up and surprisingly undamaged. A tall blonde was linked to her by pinky. Her curly hair was threaded with beads and feathers and she wore a white dress and a vacant expression. A shorter blonde had Pavoratti perched on her shoulder and a grin on her face. Lastly was a thin, imperious looking woman, also blonde with hair cropped scandalously short, men's clothing and crossed arms.

"Squawk!" Pavarotti ruffled his feathers. "Blaine Anderson!"

Blaine sighed.

"Hummel," said the Latina girl. The girl next to her waved cheerfully and adjusted her leather belt.

"Santana," said Kurt curiously. "What are you doing here?"

Before Santana could answer the tall woman raise a hand. "Questions later. Introduce us to Anderson, Porcelain. If I did it now I would ruin my dramatic entrance." She lowered her arm and raised her chin superiorly. Blaine was already confused, so he figured things must be getting back on track.

"Of course, Commodore." Kurt got to his feet, pulling Blaine up with him. He gestured to the first two girls. "This is Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce." Brittany waved again and Santana winked at him. "Becky Jackson, the first mate of the Champion." The short girl saluted him, her short hair bouncing a little. "And this," Kurt smiled and shook his head. "This is the one woman nobody will ever forget, Commodore Sue Sylvester."

Sue looked at him, taking in his appearance with raised eyebrows. "The pleasure is all yours, curly."

Somehow, Blaine was certain, things had just gotten a lot more complicated.

Give me a P! Give me an L! Give me an O! Give me T! Give me an A-D-V-A-N-C-E-M-E-N-T!

What does that spell?

Plot! –clap- Advancement! Plot! Plot! Advancement! Vancement? Plot-

I'm sorry. I promise my actual cheerleading routines are cooler than that.

At least I hope so, or our school teams are going to be mad at us.

The story Kurt referenced was Hyacinthus. If you don't know it, don't worry. Here is my handy summary. –grand arm gesture-

Zephyrus: I am romantically attracted to Hyacinthus and his exceptionally flowery name that would get him beat up if he was attending Elementary school in North America.

Apollo: I am also attracted to this incredibly attractive man! Attraction! I think I shall teach him discus!

Hyacinthus: Yay, terrifying metal frizbees!

Zephyrus: I am jealous. I will blow this discus at your head and fatally injure you. That is the solution to my every problem.

Hyacinthus: I am dead! Also, my blood makes FLOWERS!

Apollo: I shall name this flower Hyacinth and it shall be mine and it shall be my hyacinth.

So now every time you see a hyacinth you can think of blood and injury! Yay! Injury!

And that's what you missed on… Greece!

(You know, if you're seriously behind the times and were frozen in an iceberg, fully intact and revivable from cave civilization until now. In that case, I commend you on your accelerated linguistic capabilities and think we may have to re-evaluate some of our old Cave Comedies.)