This is an AU, not a crossover. I kept the names of the major Houses to situate the story within the GoT world, but secondary characters kept their own names for the sake of clarity. You do not need to know what GoT is to appreciate this. I am not referencing the canon overtly so it could be a nice little medieval AU. Knowing GoT just adds another level. It's kind of like fic-ception;

There will be a character death in a coming chapter. If this is something that has the potential to upset you, you might want to think twice before getting into this story. I promise it won't be gratuitous and I will put up a warning;

It might get violent. This is a sorta-medieval AU. There might be blood. Again, I will warn;

While I stay away from the original plot of GoT in this story, I need you all to know that I am still only at the second novel of the series and if you spoil me in any way, my vengeance will be cruel and unexpected.

"I don't want to go."

Kurt knew he had said the wrong thing the second the words left his mouth. His father let out a long sigh and then crouched down to look him in the eyes, the wrinkles lining them deepening. The wrinkles meant his father was upset about something, and it made Kurt upset.

"And I don't want you to go either, Kurt, but it's for your own good."

Kurt shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "Did I do something wrong?" He felt his chin quivering as his throat tightened and tears filled his eyes. He was so tired of crying, but it was all he seemed to be able to do since his mother had died.

"No, of course not. But a royal court is not a place for a little boy. You will be much happier in Winterfell."

"No, I won't." Kurt sniffled and wiped his eyes angrily. Stupid tears. Only babies cried. He was seven years old, almost a man-grown, and the only heir to the Seven Kingdoms. "It's far and cold and there's nothing to do there."

"How do you know that?"

Kurt frowned because his father was smirking. This was not amusing. "Because everyone makes fun of the north. There's only wolves and snow there. I don't like the cold. If you want to send me away, I could go to Highgarden. It's always sunny there and I'm half-Tyrell. They're family."

His father rolled his eyes fondly and brushed his hair back, planting a kiss on his forehead before straightening up. "Lord Stark has boys your age. You will have a real childhood, Kurt, not one where your playmates are members of the royal council. This is my final word."

He put on his King Burt face, then, and Kurt knew he had lost. It was the face he used when he had to take a Very Serious Decision that did not make him happy, but one that duty and honour had dictated. Unlike with his other King Burt face, the one he used when he was faced with something that made him sad and he needed to act like a father with the people requesting his help, Kurt knew that this face meant he was going to be a ward of the Starks whether he liked it or not.

It took them nearly fifty days to reach Winterfell. His father had sent an escort of twenty riders, half of them lords and knights from his bannermen and the other half members of the Kingsguard. On good days, when the weather was nice and he was in a good mood, Kurt rode on the horse he was given as a departure present, but most of the time he preferred to travel in the caravan, where he could sulk in peace, away from the resentful glances of his escort. He knew they all thought him a spoiled brat, but he did not care. He did not want to go to Winterfell and he was going to make sure everyone knew it.

Kurt did not cry as Winterfell appeared on the horizon and he felt his stomach drop. He did not cry when they crossed the moat and entered the inner courtyard, where the Starks were waiting for them. He did not cry when he saw Lord Stark's long, hard face where it was obvious smiles did not appear often. He did not cry when he stepped off his horse and slipped on the mud, nearly falling over before someone caught and steadied him.

"Your Grace," Lord Stark greeted him, and soon after the entire courtyard was bending the knee before him, right there in the mud, and Kurt did not cry even though he was embarrassed that they were acting this way.

He swallowed thickly and remembered how his father reacted to such greetings. "Rise," he said, and he did not cry even though his voice sounded so small. "Lord Stark, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am grateful that you accepted to take me as your ward."

"The honour his ours, Your Grace. You must be exhausted from the long travel. My wife will take you to your room if you want to freshen up before the evening meal. We will send someone for you when it is ready."

Kurt followed Lady Stark across the yard, glancing only briefly at the row of children standing in front of Lord Stark. He met the eyes of a boy around his age and the boy smiled goofily, his eyes nearly disappearing as he did so, which Kurt considered quite an accomplishment since they seemed to take more than half of his face. Kurt blushed and looked away, stumbling over his own feet and nearly falling as he slipped on the mud once more.

"This way, Your Grace," she said in a soft voice and Kurt forced a smile when she looked at him.

"You can call me Kurt, m'lady."

"As it pleases you, Kurt." She smiled at him and then gently pushed him forward with a hand on his back.

It was pleasantly warm inside the castle and Kurt was grateful for that. He had had to add furs nearly every day as they rode north and he had been afraid he would spend the next years of his life constantly freezing. The walls seemed to radiate heat and when he grazed his hands against the rough stone, he was surprised to find it lukewarm.

He followed Lady Stark up a winding staircase and nearly bumped into her as she stopped in front of a door about halfway up the stairs. "This is your bedchambers, Kurt. If you need anything, you need only ask. Do you wish to take a bath?" Kurt nodded and she smiled again. "I will have water warmed up for you. Someone will carry your luggage up soon enough, so you can change from your travel clothes."

Kurt thanked her and pushed open the door, peering in briefly before she spoke again.

"We're happy to have you here, Kurt. This is your home, now, and you are one of my sons."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead before starting down the stairs and Kurt barely made it into his bedchambers before he started crying, sobs shaking his small body as all the distress he kept bottled up since he left King's Landing - gods, probably since his mother died - took over his composure. He was not even sure why he was crying, but he did not seem to be able to stop. Everything was too much and it was happening all at once, and he wished he could hide under his bed back home and stay there until things stopped being scary.

He stayed in the bath as the water turned cold, scrubbing at his skin until it turned pink trying to rid himself of all the dust stuck in his pores. Dry and dressed in the warmest clothes he owned, Kurt sat on his bed and looked around, feeling another wave of sadness and despair washing over him as he took in the bare stone walls and low-hanging ceilings. The chamber was dark and gloomy, barely lighted up by the fire burning in the hearth and the large window opening on the godswood. He fell silly wearing his black and yellow velvets, especially as he remembered that the Starks had been dressed in plain gray wool and boiled leather. Everything he had ever known seemed silly, in this place. All the manners and pleasantries that had shaped his daily life in King's Landing felt out of place.

They said they would send for him when it was time to eat, but he did not know if he was allowed out of his room before. He did not even know where he would go, if he left, or whom he would talk to. He felt alone and small, insignificant, in this big castle in the middle of a thick forest. He would have given everything to be back in King's Landing, to walk amongst the sunny halls of the Red Keep and visit the maester in his tower, who would greet him with a sweet and would have an interesting fact of history to tell him, which he would absorb as he sat on the maester's table and listened with intent. He would wager that the maester here would only know about plants and snow, or other useless things like that.

They sent for him just as Kurt was starting to despair that they had forgotten he was there, and he followed the maidservant through the castle, trying to memorize the way so he could get back to his bedchambers on his own.

The great hall was not all that great, and with his escort and the Starks' household, it was crowded and noisy compared to that of the Red Keep. He was called over to the dais after an embarrassing introduction where everyone once again kneeled until he shyly sat to Lord Stark's right, feeling out of place and ridiculous and ashamed as one of the Stark kids nodded his head in his direction before laughing.

The food was good, although it lacked the variety fruits for it to be to Kurt's liking, and he was even allowed a small cup of spiced wine. It warmed him up inside as the first sip went down and he drained his cup quickly, relishing the taste of nutmeg and cinnamon. Lord Stark tried to talk to him a few times and Kurt always answered politely, but he was only seven years old and he could not understand how a lord could hope to have a real conversation with him. Lady Stark kept looking at him with an apologetic smile and one time, when she caught him looking back, she sighed.

"I'm sorry you have to sit with us," she said. "It is only for the night, to greet you properly and introduce you to everyone. On the morrow, you can sit with my children."

"Thank you, m'lady," he said before turning back to his plate, pushing what was left with his fork.

Before sweets were brought in, the little boy from the courtyard walked up to the table and smiled at his father. "Can the prince come sit with us, now?"

"Only if he wants to." Lord Stark turned his attention to Kurt. "Your Grace?"

Kurt eyed the boy, whose smile broadened, and he shook his head. He could not shake the memory of the one who had laughed at him. "May I be excused? The travel has tired me and I wish to sleep," he asked. Kurt fled the hall as soon as he was given permission to leave.

Later that night, Kurt heard footsteps outside his bedchambers and he pulled the heavy covers down from over his head, sitting up to greet his visitors. The steps did not stop by his door, but he overheard the conversation.

"-do something wrong?" It sounded like the courtyard boy.

"No, Blaine. The prince only needs time to adapt to this new place. This must be really scary for him, don't you think? He's away from everyone he knows. Give him a few days. Imagine if you were-"

The voices faded away and Kurt huddled under the covers once more, crying when he heard wolves howling in the distance.

The next day and the few that followed, he stayed locked in his bedchambers. He could hear the children playing outside and more than once, there was a knock at this door, but he ignored it. He was feeling too shy to come out, he was aware that he stood out and he hated it, so it was easier to stay alone. He always did everything alone, he kept telling himself, this was no different than life back home. Just because there were people to play with did not mean he had to. He was a prince. No one could force him to do anything.

It took him four days to gather the courage to leave his bedchambers outside of meals, and only because loneliness was driving him mad. He could hear the sound of laughter and screams as he approached the courtyard and he sped his pace. He was tired of being alone all the time and there was that one boy who always smiled at him even if he refused to talk to any of them as they ate. He knew it was ungrateful of him, but he could not help it. Whenever he tried to open his mouth, his throat would tighten up and he had to shove a lot of food in his mouth so he did not cry.

He was momentarily blinded as he stepped out in the courtyard, the sun bright and warm on his skin. Before he could look around to try and see if he could find the boy and introduce himself, he felt a push to his shoulder and whipped around in time to see him running away, shouting "you're it!" over his shoulder.

Kurt stood motionless, blinking at the boy. One of the other Stark kids walked over to him and rolled his eyes.

"Blaine, His Grace does not know how to play." Looking at Kurt, he sighed. "I'm Cooper."

"Kurt," Kurt said, and the boy took a bow, and Kurt nearly ran away at that, but the other boy - Blaine - ran towards them.

"Coop! Be nice! Hi, I'm Blaine. This is my older brother. He's the first son and he thinks he's already the lord of Winterfell." Their eyes met and Kurt felt a blush creep up his cheeks. "I'm Blaine," the boy said again.

"You already said. I'm Kurt."

They shook hands as Blaine blushed before talking again. "The game is that if the person who is 'it' touches you, you become 'it' and you have to run after the others to catch them and make them 'it'. I will give you a chance because you didn't know how to play, but now you have to run, Your Grace," he said excitedly.

"Don't call me that."

"What?" Blaine blinked at Kurt, eyes wide and questioning.

"Don't call me Your Grace. Just Kurt. Please."

"As it pleases Your-sorry. Kurt."

And then he pushed Kurt's arm again, said "you're it!" with a mischievous grin, and ran away. A glance to Cooper sent him running, as well, and then Kurt started chasing after them, laughing for the first time in months as Cooper ran into the kennelmaster and sent the both of them tumbling in the mud.

The sword swished through the air and hit his arm, drawing a pained cry from Kurt. He glared at the master-at-arms, who hit him again with the flat of the blade.

"You are not paying attention, boy," he snapped. "One more time."

Kurt rolled his eyes and lifted his sword, stepping into position. His attention drifted to where Blaine was practicing with his brother and he sighed angrily when the master-at-arms hit him once more. He was sure to have a bruise.

"If am I boring you, you only have to say, Kurt."

Kurt ripped his eyes away from watching Blaine and the way his curls stuck to his sweat-dampened forehead or how the muscles shifted in his back as he swung his sword, holding his grounds against his older brother and making him back up by delivering a series of rapid blows, to look at the burly man.

"You don't have to hit me."

"Your enemies won't wait for you to be attentive. I don't know what's so captivating, but if you don't try a little harder, next time we are not using blunted swords and it'll be your fault if you lose your arm."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said sheepishly, getting back into position once more.

His attention lasted only a few minutes, until Blaine stopped fighting and looked at him, grinning when he caught Kurt's eyes. Kurt smiled back and it was all it took for the master-at-arms to let out an angry groan and walk away, muttering about how much he hated wasting his time as he went.

"What's taken you today, Your Grace?" Blaine teased, laughing when Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I don't know. I can't seem to concentrate and now I'm afraid he will kill me in my sleep."

"I would not rule it out." Their eyes met and Blaine's straight face melted, replaced by a goofy grin that Kurt returned. They both blushed when the seconds stretched and Blaine looked away quickly, clearing his throat. "Want to practise with me?"

"No," Kurt replied too hurriedly. This was such a bad idea, he would get himself killed watching Blaine. "I'm tired."

"As it pleases Your Grace," Blaine said, curtsying.

"Stop it, you know I hate when you call me that."

"Which is why I do it as often as I can."

Kurt glared at Blaine until the other boy laughed. "Come, I want to walk with you."

The godswood was quiet as they walked, but Kurt's mind was loud. He stayed a few paces behind Blaine and his direwolf, trying to keep the storm raging in his head bottled in.

The problem was simple: he could not stop thinking about Blaine. From the moment he woke to when he went to sleep, Blaine was occupying all of his thoughts. Even those, the ones that made him squirm and wriggle beneath his covers. It had been this way from as long as he could remember, his childhood playmate turning into his only confident as they grew older until it felt like half of his soul belonged to Blaine.

And it all became worse after they kissed.

It was after a feast with a few of the Starks bannermen. The great hall had been crowded and full of loud conversations and songs, and no one paid attention to them so they drank cup after cup of wine, getting cheerier by the hour, until they only had to share a glance before bursting into fits of giggles they had to stifle with their hands.

The temperature in the room got unbearable after a few hours and they stumbled out, tripping their way upstairs until they shut the door of Blaine's bedchambers behind them, grinning at each other before they slumped on the bed, lying side to side.

"I am drunk," Blaine announced before letting out high-pitched giggles and turning on his side to bury his face against Kurt's shoulder. "I love you, Your G-Kurt. Your Kurt." And he giggled again.

Kurt's heart lurched in his chest and his head spun, and all he could do was lie as still as he could while Blaine snuggled into his side and said words that made no sense at all, but would mean so much if they did. "You are drunk, Blaine. Stop talking, you are not making any sense."

"No, I am making sense. I mean it. I love you."

"I love you, too," Kurt said thickly. "You are my best friend."

"No, you don't understand." Blaine pushed himself up on an elbow and looked at Kurt with big, earnest eyes in which the roaring fire in the hearth was reflected. It looked as though the flames lived inside Blaine's eyes. "I love you," he repeated, his voice softer than Kurt had ever heard it. "You are so beautiful." He reached down and stroked Kurt's cheek, who leaned into the touch and shut his eyes tightly, praying to the old gods and the new that Blaine meant what he had said.

Blaine's lips were dry when they pressed against Kurt's and he felt on his cheek the shaky breath Blaine let out through his nose. Kurt kissed back and the two of them sprung apart at once, sitting at opposite ends of the bed and staring at each other with wide eyes.

"I-" Kurt began, stopping abruptly when Blaine shook his head.

Kurt left the room after that, and they never spoke of it again. Their relationship returned to normal and two days later, Kurt was going insane trying to figure out what was going on.

Blaine kept going deeper into the woods, glancing over his shoulder from time to time to see if Kurt was following. The ground sloped under their feet and Kurt sped up to catch up with Blaine, silently sitting next to him when he climbed on a rock outcrop.

Silence stretched and Kurt fidgeted uncomfortably. It was the first time they would be alone since they kissed and Kurt was not surprised to find that he was terrified. Everything could change if things went right, but if they did not, he might have to flee to King's Landing in the dead of night to survive, or throw himself to the wolves in a fit of shame and despair. Shame at himself for having believed this could have meant anything, and despair because of the heartbreak.

"Are you never going to mention it again?"

Kurt blinked at Blaine and he felt his stomach knotting. This was it. "I was waiting for you to do it."

Blaine huffed and leaned back on his hands, closing his eyes against the sun peeking through the leaves. "I am going to assume you don't hate me for what I did since you are still talking to me."

"I don't hate you," Kurt snapped. Was Blaine really that blind?

Blaine turned his head his way, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "But?"

"There is no 'but'. I don't regret what we did." There it was, his emotions laid out in the open. It was up to Blaine to understand what Kurt was trying to say because he did not think he would be able to make himself clearer. He took a deep breath. "I hate that we had to stop."

"You mean-" Blaine was kissing him again before he could finish his own sentence, one hand holding the side of his head and the other gripping his arm, and Kurt whined through his nose as he pulled Blaine closer with his hands splayed on his back.

Remembering what Blaine had said that night, Kurt broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Blaine's, smiling when he stroked his cheekbone with his thumb. "I am your Kurt. Forever."

Kurt was running, his feet finding safe footing on their own through the undergrowth and roots covering the ground of the godswood. He felt like he was flying, the cold autumn wind whipping his face and reddening his cheeks as he moved through the trees with practised ease. When he spotted him, Kurt sped up and in one quick movement, he tackled Blaine to the ground, laughing as he let out a pained huff.

"You're it," Kurt said cheekily, reaching down to brush dead leaves from Blaine's hair after he sat back on his haunches, straddling Blaine's thighs.

"I swear you run faster than Snow."

Kurt glanced at the direwolf standing a short distance from them, sniffing the air and panting after running along with them. "No, Snowflake is still faster than me."

"Don't call him that! It's a stupid name." Blaine pouted and Kurt patted his cheek.

"And I told you as much when you got him, but did you listen? Of course not."

Blaine huffed and pulled Kurt down with a hand on the back of his neck to kiss him. "You're in a really good mood, Your Grace."

"I can't always sulk, it's too predictable."

Blaine grinned and pulled Kurt down again, wrapping his arms around his neck as he kissed him slowly, sucking on his top lip before pulling away and resting their foreheads together.

"We're supposed to be praying," Blaine muttered, tilting his chin up to kiss Kurt again.

"I keep the new gods, silly. I only came here to take a quiet walk. You're the one failing his duty."

"Mm, ask me later if it bothers me." Blaine rolled them around and hovered over Kurt, his weight resting on his arms. "Because right now, I have more important things to do."

"Such as?"

"Pay appropriate respects to the heir of the Seven Kingdoms."

Kurt snorted and rolled his eyes. Blaine settled down, resting his head on Kurt's chest. Kurt fingers tangled through Blaine's messy curls and he scratched his scalp, smiling when Blaine let out a content hum.

"'You're it'?" Blaine asked after a while, lifting his head and looking at Kurt with sleep-heavy eyes. There was no faster way to put Blaine to sleep than to play with his hair.

"It's the first thing you ever told me, remember?"

Blaine nodded and nuzzled his cheek against the wool of Kurt's tunic. "I was so infatuated, even back then."

Kurt tugged lightly on his curls, humming his approval. He had been, too, and the two of them fumbled through their budding love until they were old enough to understand it.

They stayed tangled together for a long time, the warmth of the other's body enough to make it comfortable. Moments alone together did not come often and they had learned to make the most of them. They only moved when Snow snarled, restlessly pacing back and forth.

"Someone's coming," Blaine said sadly, slowly pushing himself off Kurt and up.

By the time they were done brushing their clothes clean, a stable boy appeared from through the trees. His eyes travelled between the two of them, but he spoke as if he had noticed nothing.

"A raven has arrived. From King's Landing."

Kurt's blood turned cold and he felt something heavy settle in his stomach. "Did something happen to my father?"

"No, m'lo-Your Grace. You better come read it yourself."

Kurt watched the boy go before he turned to Blaine, who was looking at him with worry etched all over his face. "You don't think-"

Kurt shrugged and started towards the castle, Blaine following a few paces behind after calling for Snow to follow him. Kurt feared the worst. He had been worried his father would call him back to King's Landing every day since he and Blaine confessed their love for each other, and every raven arriving to the castle sent shivers down his spine. He would rather not think what it would mean if he had to leave for the south.

The dim light of the maester's chambers forced Kurt to be cautious as he entered, making sure he did not hit his head or walk into anything while his eyes adjusted.

"Here is the letter," the man said, handing Kurt a rolled piece of parchment. The seal was broken, but he recognized it to be his father's.

After reading it, he handed it back to the maester in silence. A bone-deep weariness took over him and he sighed, forcing a smile when the maester looked at him knowingly.

"Has Lord Stark been told?"

"Not yet, Your Grace." Kurt flinched at the words. Already, Kurt the Ward was fading away, replaced by Prince Kurt. He knew it would not take long for the news to spread through the castle and for people to start treating him differently. He would no longer be one of them.

"I will deliver the letter myself."

"As it pleases Your Grace," the maester said and Kurt sighed again, pocketing the letter before leaving the office and wandering back to the courtyard where he had left Blaine and Snow.

Blaine was sitting on a bail of hay, discussing with a pot boy, his laughter carrying across the busy yard and lifting Kurt's spirits, if only a little. When he saw Kurt approaching, he excused himself and made his way towards him, his smile fading the closer he got. Kurt nodded and bit his lip.

"Is it so? Tell me it isn't, Kurt."

"My father summoned me back. I'm to leave in a fortnight, an escort is on its way."

Blaine pressed his lips together and looked away and up above the outer walls to the cloudless sky. When he looked back at Kurt, his eyes were shining with tears. The urge to hold Blaine close and comfort him was so strong that Kurt had to dig his nails into his hands to resist it.

"I need a moment alone, if you do not mind," Blaine said, at last. "I will see you later."

With a nod, Kurt watched him go towards the godswood, Snow on his heels, his tail wagging rapidly with worry for his master, Kurt knew. Blaine and the direwolf's emotions were mirrored, it often seemed.

He did not reappear until they all gathered in the great hall for the evening meal. Kurt had no time to miss him; arrangements had to be made with Lord Stark. Some sons of bannermen would be sent south to join the Gold Cloaks and ravens had to be sent to tell the lords. Kurt jested that it was a good thing none of the Stark daughters were old enough to marry him, otherwise he would have had to bring one of them south as well, and it had chilled the atmosphere like only a Stark disapproving of something could do. Winter is coming, Kurt thought bitterly as he drank listlessly from his cup of wine.

Lord Stark called for everyone's attention in between two servings to announce Kurt's imminent departure. Blaine's face darkened, if that was even possible given the gloomy mood he had been since he entered the hall, and Kurt's stomach twisted so much he lost his appetite.

"I have a something to say," Blaine said when his father had sat down. When he had everyone's attention, he continued. "I have been thinking about this for a long time and I have come to a decision this afternoon. I'm the second son, so I won't inherit land nor title. This is why I have decided to take the Black. I will leave at the same time as Kurt to head north."

Not only had Kurt lost his appetite, but after Blaine's words, he felt like he was going to be sick. Everyone seemed stunned, too, and a heavy silence fell over the great hall.

"Are you sure, son?" Lady Stark asked. "You know about the oaths and what happens to those who break them."

"I do, Mother, but this is what I wish to do. I have thought about it."

They all glanced at Lord Stark, waiting for him to react. Kurt's head was swimming and he wished nothing more than to retire to his bedchambers or run out and destroy something, anything so he would stop feeling as numb as he did.

"It is an honourable decision you have made, Blaine, and I am proud of you. You will make a valiant Black Brother."

This was more than Kurt could endured. He curtly asked to be excused before fleeing the room and barring the door to his bedchambers. He sat on his bed and watched the fire burning in the hearth for a long time, his head swirling with darkness and sorrow. He had barely started accepting the fact that he would have to part from Blaine when he left, but he had had the hope he could invite Blaine to visit in the future. The prospect of showing him the royal court, of laughing with him about the overdone manners of the lords and ladies crowding the throne room of the Red Keep was the first thing that made him smile since he read the letter, but now it would never happen. Blaine would travel north to join the Night's Watch and he would be as good as dead to Kurt, his loyalty sworn to the realm and the protection of the Wall. He would not have time for a foolish prince living so far in the south it almost felt like a different world.

He was in bed when someone knocked on his door. He had an idea of who it might be.

"I'm tired, Blaine. We will talk tomorrow," he said, hoping his voice would carry through the wooden door. He did not want put his breeches back on only to chase Blaine away.

"Please, Kurt, I can't sleep," came Blaine's response, his voice small and whiny.

"Fine," he said around a huff.

Blaine entered hesitantly, the candle he was carrying lighting his face from underneath and casting glum shadows. He crossed the chamber and sat at the foot of Kurt bed while he reclined against the headboard, holding the covers up over his chest with his arms crossed.

"You left hurriedly, earlier," Blaine said in an attempt to break the ice.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you want to take the Black."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Placing the candle on the nightstand, Blaine pulled his legs on the bed and crossed them, sitting to face Kurt. "We won't all inherit an entire realm. I have to make a life for myself and I don't want to marry a highborn lady and live in my brother's shadow for the rest of my life. It is a great honour to join the Night's Watch."

The thought of Blaine marrying someone sent a pang of jealousy through Kurt's heart, but he kept a straight face. Surely Blaine had the same thoughts about him, about how Kurt would be expected to find himself a Queen once he was back in King's Landing. Perhaps it was what made him decide to take the Black, so he would not have to witness it happening.

"Don't fool yourself, when we visited two years ago you saw as well as me that the Black Brothers are either disfigured by the cold or drunkards. There is no honour left in the Night's Watch, Blaine, and you know it."

"Is that so? Well, we'll see who has honour when you maim yourself on that ridiculous throne your family is so proud to own and look a fool in front of the royal court."

"That does not even make sense," Kurt snapped, feeling the heat rising on his cheeks and his ears. Blaine could be so infuriating when he was acting like a child, refusing to listen to what Kurt had to say.

"I don't understand why you are so upset about this. Why do you care? In a fortnight, you will be gone, a brand new life awaiting you, and I will be left here, on my own. You have everything to gain if you leave, while I am losing everything."

"I don't want to leave," Kurt said, his voice small and weak. "I would rather stay here. I do not want any of the burdens that come with being the heir to the realm. I don't want to leave you behind. I think it is going to kill me, if I do."

"No, it will not. A year from now, you will have forgotten me. You will find a handsome lordling who will make you smile with jests and presents, and you will forget everything about the northern boy you left behind." It was hard to see in the dark, but Kurt thought he saw tears shining in Blaine's eyes.

"No!" Kurt said forcefully, reaching forward to cup Blaine's face. The covers slipped and bared his chest, but Kurt ignored the shivers that ran through him as the cold night air hit his skin. "I could never forget you, Blaine. I love you and it breaks my heart to leave you behind."

"I could never love another," Blaine said, his voice breaking. "This is why I have to take the Black. I cannot marry."

"You damned Starks. You are as loyal as those direwolves you love so much." Kurt chuckled and stroked Blaine's cheek, smiling fondly, but unable to shake off the sadness that took over him when he learned he had to leave.

"You know what they say, the Stark pups are more wolf than man." Blaine turned his head and nipped at Kurt's hand in a way reminiscent of Snow. He sniffled and Kurt brushed away a tear with his thumb.

"Please, don't join the Night's Watch," Kurt whispered, pulling Blaine to him. The boy snuggled up into his side and let out a puff of warm air against Kurt's bare shoulder. "I will take you south with me."

"I was born too high to be a bedwarmer," Blaine mumbled, chuckling when Kurt slapped his arm. "Let's not spoil this evening. We can talk about it more on the morrow."

"I am serious, Blaine. I can take you to court with me. You could be a member of the Kingsguard, or you could become a knight. And eventually, when I take the throne, I could make you my Hand."

"Would that you could," Blaine said through a sigh.

"But I can, Blaine. There will come a day when I will make the laws. I will be the supreme authority of the Seven Kingdoms. On this day, if I decide that I want you to be the Hand of the King, there will be no one able to stop me. And in the meantime, the Red Keep could use more people like you Starks. There would be work for you at the court to keep your days busy. And at night, we could meet in my bedchambers just like we do here. We could have it all, Blaine, but not if you take the Black."

"It all sounds too good to be true."

"Do you trust me?"

"You know that I do."

"Then trust that I will make it happen. I am not letting you leave for the Wall. I am not letting you leave my side."

Blaine leaned up to kiss under Kurt's chin, smiling against his skin before trailing his lips up Kurt's jaw to nuzzle behind his ear. Kurt hummed under his breath and shifted lower against his pillows, pulling Blaine closer, his fingers gripping at the fabric of his tunic as they moved across Blaine's shoulders.

Blaine shifted until he was straddling Kurt's thighs, his knees pressed into the featherbed and his hands on Kurt's shoulder for leverage, and he crashed their mouths together. Kurt gripped his waist and digged his fingers into Blaine's flesh as he licked into his mouth, pushing Kurt down until he was lying on his back.

Kurt's breath was coming out in ragged gasps within minutes and he groaned, rolling his hips up, seeking friction and Blaine's warmth. They usually liked to take it slow, kissing lazily until their senses were overwhelmed and they craved for release, but it did not seem like it would be the case, not with Blaine kissing down his neck and across his collarbones before moving down his chest, pushing the blankets as he went.

Pulling at Blaine's tunic and shivering as the wet spots Blaine's lips left cooled down, Kurt kicked at the covers until they were bunched up at the foot of the bed.

"You are going to freeze," Blaine said in a low voice, his eyes travelling over Kurt's naked body and lingering on his cock, red and flushed and already leaking against his stomach.

"Then get out of your clothes and warm me up," he said coyly before biting his lip, his fingers playing with the laces of Blaine's breeches, tracing over the shape of his erection. Kurt had no idea where that came from, but it seemed to please Blaine because soon after he was lowering himself over Kurt and pressing their bodies together, skin against skin.

Their mouths met again as they began rocking their hips in rhythm. Kurt raked his fingers through Blaine's hair, tugging until Blaine let out a broken moan and thrust forward roughly, their cocks rubbing together and sending fire through Kurt's veins. He threw his head back and Blaine latched his lips to his neck, kissing a path down the column of his throat before sucking on his collarbone, where a mark would not show the next day.

Kurt's free hand grabbed Blaine's shoulder blade, pulling him impossibly closer and hooking his legs around his waist, his heels digging into the back of his thighs.

"I love you," Blaine said against his lips, the words ending in a moan when Kurt pushed down on Blaine's hips with his legs at the same time he moved his own up, meeting Blaine's thrust.

"Love you, too," Kurt panted and then he was coming, his body tensing up and arching as he clung to Blaine.

Blaine followed soon after, his thrusts against Kurt becoming erratic and jerky until he stopped completely and groaned, burying his face in Kurt's neck before slumping on top of him, suddenly boneless.

The minutes stretched as they lay in silence, wrapped in each other, and Kurt only moved when the sheen of sweat covering his body dried up and he had to pull the covers on top of them.

"You should go back to your bedchambers," he whispered, brushing stray curls out of Blaine's forehead and planting a kiss there.

"I'll do it in the morning." Kurt had a thousand arguments about why this was a bad idea, but he seemed to forget them all when Blaine cuddled into his side and pressed a sweet kiss on his cheek. "Can you blow the candle?"

The courtyard was crowded and bursting with activity, stable boys running here and there to ready the horses for the travel while maidservants helped load Blaine and Kurt's luggage. Kurt stayed away from the Starks, letting them have their farewells in peace as he pretended to overlook the preparations.

When it looked like it was safe to approach them, he thanked Lord and Lady Stark for everything they did in the past ten years, his words inadequate to show just how grateful he was. They had given him just what his father had hoped he would get, a real childhood surrounded with children his age to play with him, away from the royal court and the responsibilities he would have to deal with soon enough. They had treated him like their own son and he had spent more time with them than with his own father. Leaving gave him the same heartbreak than when he had first arrived.

"You are always welcome in King's Landing," Kurt said, putting his hand on Lord Stark's shoulder for emphasis.

"And you in Winterfell. Take good care of our son, Kurt. And of yourself, as well."

"I will," he said earnestly. He yelped with he was pulled into a hug by the stern man. It was quickly over and then Lady Stark was hugging him, too, placing a kiss to his cheek. "You better be off. It's a long road to King's Landing and the air smells of snow."

Kurt mounted his horse and smiled as Blaine steered his own to stand by Kurt's. "Ready?" he asked, squinting against the bright morning sun.

"Race you to the end of the winter town," Blaine said cheerily before kicking his horse forward, his laughter trailing after him as Kurt let out an indignant yelp at Blaine's treachery.

Yes, he thought, I can face anything if he is beside me.