It's been seven years since the war between the two regions of Vastar and Renova began. Several versions of the tale of how the war came about have spread throughout the lands, but the reality was simply that the King of Renova was a man with a hunger for land and power. His troops were the first to cross the border into Vastar and take over a nearby, unsuspecting village. The victory sent him on a power trip, and he continued the conquest despite the lack of support from his advisors.

Vastar retaliated swiftly, and so the battle began. Within the first three years, Renova managed to gain more land, and Vastar suffered greatly. Both kingdoms had a tremendous amount of casualties.

The people of Renova rallied to beg the king to give up the war. They were growing sick of seeing their friends and family members killed over land they didn't even need. Renova had been large enough without the added territory from Vastar.

Everyone wanted the suffering to end, and the royal family of Renova gained much criticism from their people. It seemed as though the King couldn't care less, and continued sending troops into battle.

The King of Vastar knew he couldn't risk losing any more of his weakening army, and so he called in his last resort-the Gladius Occultus. The leader, Devarion Anderson, and the king were long-time allies.

The Gladius Occultus were assassins: masters of stealth, weaponry, and, well, murder. They were quite legendary and held noble status in Vastar. Their aim was to protect the people of the land from its enemies, and thus many of their actions were regarded as good deeds.

Devarion and the King met, and spent two days formulating a plan they had no doubt would be successful. The night of the second day, the plan was put into action.

The light of the full moon poured through the musty window of the cabin, dimly illuminating the man sitting in the chair near the windowsill. He was slouched, arms crossed, with his chin tucked down against his chest lazily. Golden-hazel eyes struggled to stay open and alert, frequently glancing up at the figure lying on the bed in the corner of the room. There was little sleep to be had tonight for Blaine Anderson.

Despite being one of the most highly skilled assassins in the land, anxiety still managed to take root in Blaine's mind now and then, especially on missions as serious as this one.

Kidnapping the prince had been relatively simple. Scaling the castle wall in the dead of night required much stealth and a little exertion, but was not too difficult a task for Blaine. Once he was in the prince's bedroom, he knocked the young man out easily with a rag soaked in sedative so not a sound was made. They were both out of the castle in no time, and he brought the prince here to a seemingly abandoned little cabin in the woods he acquired not very far from the city.

Keeping Prince Kurt hostage was going to be the more difficult part, and here is where Blaine's anxiety kicked in. The king would most likely send a search party as soon as someone notices his son's bedroom is empty, and so Blaine knew they had to leave this cabin first thing in the morning. He couldn't allow himself to get caught. Not only would that most likely result in his beheading, but it would also result in his father's disappointment, something Blaine has always avoided like the plague.

Blaine's father, Devarion Anderson, is the leader of the Gladius Occultus, a legendary band of assassins whose headquarters resides in Vastar. Under his father's training, which began at a very young age, Blaine quickly grew skilled in the ways of an assassin and rose through the ranks. Now, at the astonishingly young age of twenty, he was his father's right hand man, next in line for the position of leader.

Getting caught was not an option. It would cause much damage to not only Blaine's position, but the entire brotherhood.

Blaine realized if he sat in the chair any longer, he was sure to fall asleep. He sighed and stood, glancing out the window. The sun would be rising soon either way, it would be best if he began to prepare for travel.

A rustling sound emitted from the corner of the room, and the young assassin's eyes turned to the bed. The prince was shifting slightly in his sleep, but Blaine knew he wouldn't wake for at least another hour or two due to the sedative. His eyes traveled to the shackle around the prince's ankle that kept him attached to the bed. Even if the prince did awaken now, he wasn't going anywhere.

To say that life for Prince Kurt has been stressful lately would be quite the understatement. He was destined to one day run a kingdom that was in a pitiful war, one that has been going on for years and doesn't seem to be ending anytime soon. His father, the King of Renova, was determined to see the war through to the end with his army coming out the victor. It was quite tiresome, really. The entire royal family was under criticism now, including young Kurt Hummel.

What were his plans to remedy the situation once he took the throne? Or does he plan on following in his father's footsteps and letting the battles rage on? Is he even prepared for the responsibilities that come with running a kingdom? The constant questioning from royals, nobles, and townspeople put such pressure on Kurt that he rarely left the castle.

Little did he know that his worries were nothing compared to what was about to occur.

Lying on a strange bed that was quite uncomfortable, Kurt was in such a deep state of unconsciousness that not a dream stirred in his mind. No dreams, no thoughts, but there was an image. A man standing over him in his bedroom at the castle. It was dark, so Kurt had trouble discerning the man's features. The only thing that stood out was his eyes. Bright hazel eyes.

Suddenly, the image came alive, and the mysterious stranger started to move his hand towards him. Feeling his senses come alive with the image, a dream began to form, signaling that the sedative must be wearing off, not that the prince was aware of this.

He felt his heart beat quicken and terror pulse through his veins as the man pressed a rag over his mouth. His slender hands clasped the man's wrist to try and pull him off, not wanting to have to fall into empty unconsciousness again. Feeling a fog roll over his senses, Kurt panicked, and it was enough to jolt him awake.

Blaine was in the midst of concealing weapons on his person when the prince sat up suddenly on the bed. He paused from tinkering with the blade mechanism on his arm and looked over, watching Kurt silently. There was no need to try and talk to him yet, the prince was clearly startled enough already.

Kurt looked down at himself, half expecting to see a knife protruding from his stomach and blood everywhere. Other than his night garments being a little dirty, he appeared unscathed. His ocean-colored eyes rose to scan at the surroundings, his lips parted and panting from the panic of the dream, which quickly turned into real panic as he became aware that he was no longer in his bedroom.

Blaine lowered his arms, a very small movement, but it still caught Kurt's attention. Every muscle in his body froze as his eyes rested on the other male figure in the room.

The morning light shining through the small windows of the cabin filled the room enough to allow him to clearly examine the man's features. His hair was short, dark, and curly; tanned skin; a face he would have found very attractive if this were a different situation. This all went mostly unnoticed though due to the fact that what Kurt was really focused on was his eyes.

The same bright hazel that belonged to the man in his dream.

In an attempt to move his legs to get off the bed and take off in a dash, something cold and metal around his right ankle stopped him. Kurt looked down and held in a cry at the sight of the rusted shackle around his ankle.

The image that had stuck in his head as he slept had not just been a figment of his imagination. Kurt realized quickly he had been kidnapped, and it was no use to really wonder why. He was a prince after all. That was probably reason enough. He lifted his eyes to look at the man again.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice stern, but with fear interlaced in it as well," and where am I?"

"Good morning to you, too," Blaine replied simply, ignoring his questions for the time being as he sat back on the chair in the corner to put on his boots. The prince was not screaming for help or struggling unnecessarily against the chain, which was very good for Blaine.

His voice was too calm and casual as he bid him good morning, which angered Kurt. Here he was, kidnapped and taken to God-knows-where by his doing, and all he could say was 'good morning'? There was nothing good about it! His eyes narrowed at Blaine and he made an "ahem" sound.

Blaine looked up at Kurt and stared at him a moment. The rumors he had heard about Prince Kurt were true, that he is one of the most gorgeous men in Renova. He had the face of an angel. Though the angry glare he was shooting Blaine right now was kind of ruining the angelic grace.

"My name is Blaine," he finally answered, standing up and walking over to the small dresser in the room. He rummaged through the drawers, glancing back and forth between Kurt and the clothing he was pulling out, mentally sizing him up.

"Well, Blaine, normally I would introduce myself as well, but that would be rather pointless, now wouldn't it be?" Kurt retorted bitterly, which caused Blaine to chuckle.

"Quite. I know all about you…Prince Kurt Hummel, one and only heir to the throne of Renova," Blaine responded, stating the prince's name in a slightly melodramatic tone.

Kurt scowled, but didn't say anything in response. He took a moment to examine his captor. The uniform he was wearing gave Kurt the impression he was some sort of soldier, though he did not recognize the symbol on the chest of Blaine's tunic. He had a sword and a couple small blades strapped to his waist, and the sight of them made Kurt shudder. Oh God, was Blaine planning on killing Kurt?

Blaine looked over, catching the frightened look in Kurt's eyes and smirked. "I'm not going to harm you if that's what you're wondering. At least, I don't want to," he said, and he was telling the truth. He was under strict orders not to let harm come to the prince, but unfortunately, if the king does not give in to the ransom demands, then…

"And to answer your question from earlier, we're in a cabin not too far from your city," Blaine continued, and tossed the clothes he gathered onto the bed by Kurt's feet.

Kurt stared with disgust at the worn out, peasant wear. "What are those for?"

"Those are for you, unless you want to walk through the woods in what you're wearing. Those shoes are for you, too," Blaine nodded at the shoes sitting on the floor by the bed. He laughed at the way Kurt looked at them. "I apologize that this cabin isn't equipped with clothes made of silk and shoes adorned with rubies, your highness," he said jokingly," Considering you're circumstances at the moment, I don't think you're in a position to complain."

"Oh, I have plenty to complain about considering my circumstances," Kurt hissed. "Speaking of which, what is it that you want from me? Money? Because my father has plenty, and I'm sure if you return me to my castle he'll give you whatever you need."

"That's what I'm relying on, prince, but unfortunately for you, money is not what we are asking for, and so you're going to have to stick with me for a while."