Kurtbastian: Cordillair (NC-17)
Some time ago I took this prompt on the GKM and thought to myself, "I can do this. I can make this world." I took it to try to deal with my feelings on Klaine breaking up, and I took it to stretch my writing wings. If Kurtbastian isn't your thing, let me assure you - Kurtbastian doesn't happen for many, many chapters. And this is DEFINITELY not canon. It's a completely different world, with OCs and only three canon characters in name - Sebastian Smythe and Kurt and Burton Hummelod (Hummel-ODD). Maybe take a chance on me and I'll take you on an adventure.
There are 15,000 words of this story already written and I've been writing every weekend to make this happen. I'm starting to post today, December 2, a Sunday...and the next post will be Wednesday, December 5th. :)
A warm wind curled through the plank-wood barriers covering the windows of the small dwelling, dawdling through the knots and whirls before making their way to Sadie’s bare feet. She shuffled a little in her chair and smiled.
“We’re going to be able to strip those windows sooner rather than later,” she remarked to seemingly no one, her deft fingers flying over the scratchy fabric in her hands. “Honestly, it’s like spring comes sooner and sooner to Lagau, isn’t it?”
A groan comes from the other small room of the home.
“Sadie, I don’t give one stinking nut about the weather, today,” a muffled male voice laments, the words followed by a small splash, “tell me those pants are almost finished.”
Sadie rolls her eyes and bites off the thread, knotting it thrice with ease before cleaning up the small contents of her sewing kit. She liftsthe fabric up delicately, checking her handiwork.
“Well,” she remarks, biting the edge of her lip, “they aren’t really fit to be seen by royalty, but I think they’ll definitely do for Prince Sebastian.” She hears an irritated sigh from the door to the second room and glances over only to squawk and shield her eyes. “Steven! Put some clothes on, what’re you trying to do? Blind me?”
Steven smirks and crosses the room, naked as the day he was born, shining with bathwater. “That’ll teach to you to be nice to your brother,” he snipes, reaching out for his pants and tugging them from her fingers, “honestly, Sebastian’s never done a thing to you.”
Sadie frowns, her usually bright face dark. “Not to me, per say, but to everyone else in this kingdom, Steven, and most people we know. Please-” She stops to stand and grab onto her brother’s shoulders, his mind occupied with the button on his trousers. “I just...I don’t want you to be hurt. You know how Sebastian is...you’ve...you’ve heard about what he did to Nathaniel and to those other boys...I...”
But Steven’s shaking his head, his long arms pulling themselves through the sleeves of his nicest shirt. It is old - one of their father’s hand-me-down’s from before he passed - but it’s still holding together, the threads woven by the weavers their kingdom was once famous for, the weavers the king has now controlled for thirty years. His other clothes are nothing compared to this garment - and even it is faded and yellowed with age.
“Sadie, it’s going to be okay. Sebastian...we’ve known Sebastian since father was his guard. When we were children I knew...I-”
Sadie just watches, her eyes like slits but her face softening. She remembers long nights of talking about the exact slope of Sebastian’s nose with Steven, receiving details of Sebastian talking to him when no one knew that the prince preferred men to women, and then hugging Steven fiercely the first time they heard of him with a rich landowner’s boy from down the south of the lake. She remembers the way Prince Sebastian had looked at her brother when they were but boys and how he looks at him now that Steven’s found him again. What her brother sees is adoration. What Sadie sees is a predator stalking its prey.
“-and I know he loves me, Sade. I know it. He’s loved me forever. For as long as I’ve loved him, so-”
“Then why is he meeting you in a hayfield, Steven? Why not the palace? Why isn’t he showing you off to the entire kingdom?” Sadie’s eyes are bright, color high in her cheeks, her heart racing at the thought of her brother hurt. Without their mother and father they have made it so far. So far and even though they are still owned by someone else they at least have a home. Clothing. Their breath.
“You know full well he can’t just have me arrive at the palace! We have to plan first. Establish what we’ll do and how it will happen. How to convince the king to let us be together. It’s...it’s not like Cordi-”
“Don’t say it, Steven. I know it’s not. But I don’t think it will be. Ever.”
She watches as Stevens face falls, his fingertips dropping from his ankles where he’s pulled on his one pair of cracked leather boots, also a remnant of their father.
“He loves me,” Steven replies once more before striding out the door.
Long hours later, after the wash basin has been cleared away and the water buckets stacked in the corner; after the rest of her mending has been done, and three new candles have been dipped, after her hair has been unknotted and pulled through with a bone comb and replaited down her back, Sadie sits and waits. She sits with fear in her heart and grief in her belly at the sight she knows she will see when Steven returns, at the salves and bandages she knows she’ll need and are set by his pallet. She knows the prince does not love her brother.
But she always will.
***
Sadie hears him when he finally returns, though she knows he’s trying to be quiet. She hears the rough canvas covering the wood plank door rub across the dirt, feels the chill in the air that comes with the early hour, and so she pulls herself from her pallet in their shared room and lights the candle beside her bed, determined to be there for her brother no matter what has transpired this night.
When she enters the main room she stops still. Her brother is clothed, though barely, his shirt untucked and his boots untied. His hair is a mess, his shoulder-length tresses, once pulled back in a leather cord, now matted and in disarray in a halo around his head. It’s not these things that stop her, though. Instead it’s the look on his tear-streaked face, the puffiness of his eyes and the redness of his nose. The bitten look of his lips and the shallow breaths he’s taking as he’s crossing the short space and falling, falling into her arms, the sobs building deep in his chest and then echoing through the room as they break against her shoulder.
“H-H-H-e,” Steven tries, but can’t because he’s wracked with more sobs, curling in on himself and taking Sadie to the cold floor with him. She spares a moment of thought for his trousers and her bedclothes and then lets it go, not minding the few hours it will take to clean them in her brother’s time of need. She runs a hand down his back and he leans into the touch as though starved for affection, for physical closeness.
She waits.
He cries into her shoulder for long minutes, his body alternating between pliant and tense as emotions run rampant through his veins.
She waits.
He tries to start talking again and then dissolves into endless sobs.
She waits.
She waits until the room becomes clearer and the shadows begin to fade, until the sun’s effect and be seen if not the sun itself. She waits until Steven’s shoulders stop shaking and his hands still where once they had been frantic, tapping at the floor and fidgeting this the edge of his shirt.
She waits and then, he speaks, his face in her lap and his eyes on the floor.
“He...he doesn’t love me.”
One sentence and Sadie’s heart breaks for her brother, because no matter how much she had known it this is really knowing and no matter how much she wanted to be wrong she had been right.
“Tell me what happened,” she whispers, afraid even her voice would break him.
“I-” he shudders, holding tightly to his sister’s legs, seeming to be the only thing grounding him to this earth. “He met me in the field as he said. He said- he said the most beautiful things, Sade, talked about remembering me as a child and knowing then that we were meant to be together. He kissed me, o-opened my mouth with his own and took what he wanted from it and then lied to me, told me I was his.”
Sadie nods even though he can’t see her. She runs her fingers through his hair, pulling out the knots as he breaths through his thoughts and speaks again.
“He...he took me to the barn then, and we kissed. We kissed and kissed and it was like heaven, Sadie, he...told me all kinds of things and he undressed and then undressed me and then pushed me down to...and I did, Sade, I did what he asked and he...”
He bit back his tears then, and Sadie just combed, combed, combed through his hair and offered no judgement, no words to dull the pain but none to deepen it, either.
“And when he was done in...in my mouth, he turned me over and just, I mean, he made it a little okay, Sade, but it was bad. It was so bad and I just...everything hurts and-”
Sadie fought with herself not to cry, not to say horrible things about Sebastian and not to let her rage show, but oh how she wanted. Wanted to punch and bite and claw at someone who would hurt her brother, take his trust and beat it black. But she didn’t. Instead she combed and combed and hummed low in her throat and listened.
He was quiet for a moment, then, and Sadie could feel the air around them tighten and expand, the unspoken words heavy and hard before he spoke.
“He-he told me I was a good fuck and not to say a word to anyone about it and if I-if I didn’t say anything maybe we could...we could do it again sometime. If I didn’t complain like a...”
He shuddered then before hardening, composing himself.
“Like a bitch.”
Sadie’s fingers stopped, utter fury threatening to overcome them both, and Steven tenses beneath her, reminding her where they are and why, and she begins to comb again, soothing, smoothing.
“And then he left. He left me there in the straw, Sade. Just...left so I- I just waited until it wasn’t so bad, until I could move again and I could put my clothes on and...Sade, I’m sorry about the pants, okay? I know you just fixed them and-”
“No, Steven,” she spoke, her voice loud yet calm in the stillness, scratchy from disuse. “No. You have nothing to apologize for. I wanted you to look perfect. You DID look perfect. Perfect enough for any prince.”
She can feel him shaking beneath her, undoubtedly crying again, and she damns Prince Sebastian. Damns him to hell for his selfishness and disrespect; for not honoring what he was offered this night. For inflicting seen and unseen damage on her brother.
The sun comes up and he finally goes to his pallet, quietly asking Sadie for water from the well. She tries not to listen to his groans and sharp cries in the other room as he tends to himself, ignores the blood on his trousers as she scrubs them cleaner than ever before.
Tries to let her heart be free to help mend someone instead of something.
There are 15,000 words of this story already written and I've been writing every weekend to make this happen. I'm starting to post today, December 2, a Sunday...and the next post will be Wednesday, December 5th. :)
A warm wind curled through the plank-wood barriers covering the windows of the small dwelling, dawdling through the knots and whirls before making their way to Sadie’s bare feet. She shuffled a little in her chair and smiled.
“We’re going to be able to strip those windows sooner rather than later,” she remarked to seemingly no one, her deft fingers flying over the scratchy fabric in her hands. “Honestly, it’s like spring comes sooner and sooner to Lagau, isn’t it?”
A groan comes from the other small room of the home.
“Sadie, I don’t give one stinking nut about the weather, today,” a muffled male voice laments, the words followed by a small splash, “tell me those pants are almost finished.”
Sadie rolls her eyes and bites off the thread, knotting it thrice with ease before cleaning up the small contents of her sewing kit. She liftsthe fabric up delicately, checking her handiwork.
“Well,” she remarks, biting the edge of her lip, “they aren’t really fit to be seen by royalty, but I think they’ll definitely do for Prince Sebastian.” She hears an irritated sigh from the door to the second room and glances over only to squawk and shield her eyes. “Steven! Put some clothes on, what’re you trying to do? Blind me?”
Steven smirks and crosses the room, naked as the day he was born, shining with bathwater. “That’ll teach to you to be nice to your brother,” he snipes, reaching out for his pants and tugging them from her fingers, “honestly, Sebastian’s never done a thing to you.”
Sadie frowns, her usually bright face dark. “Not to me, per say, but to everyone else in this kingdom, Steven, and most people we know. Please-” She stops to stand and grab onto her brother’s shoulders, his mind occupied with the button on his trousers. “I just...I don’t want you to be hurt. You know how Sebastian is...you’ve...you’ve heard about what he did to Nathaniel and to those other boys...I...”
But Steven’s shaking his head, his long arms pulling themselves through the sleeves of his nicest shirt. It is old - one of their father’s hand-me-down’s from before he passed - but it’s still holding together, the threads woven by the weavers their kingdom was once famous for, the weavers the king has now controlled for thirty years. His other clothes are nothing compared to this garment - and even it is faded and yellowed with age.
“Sadie, it’s going to be okay. Sebastian...we’ve known Sebastian since father was his guard. When we were children I knew...I-”
Sadie just watches, her eyes like slits but her face softening. She remembers long nights of talking about the exact slope of Sebastian’s nose with Steven, receiving details of Sebastian talking to him when no one knew that the prince preferred men to women, and then hugging Steven fiercely the first time they heard of him with a rich landowner’s boy from down the south of the lake. She remembers the way Prince Sebastian had looked at her brother when they were but boys and how he looks at him now that Steven’s found him again. What her brother sees is adoration. What Sadie sees is a predator stalking its prey.
“-and I know he loves me, Sade. I know it. He’s loved me forever. For as long as I’ve loved him, so-”
“Then why is he meeting you in a hayfield, Steven? Why not the palace? Why isn’t he showing you off to the entire kingdom?” Sadie’s eyes are bright, color high in her cheeks, her heart racing at the thought of her brother hurt. Without their mother and father they have made it so far. So far and even though they are still owned by someone else they at least have a home. Clothing. Their breath.
“You know full well he can’t just have me arrive at the palace! We have to plan first. Establish what we’ll do and how it will happen. How to convince the king to let us be together. It’s...it’s not like Cordi-”
“Don’t say it, Steven. I know it’s not. But I don’t think it will be. Ever.”
She watches as Stevens face falls, his fingertips dropping from his ankles where he’s pulled on his one pair of cracked leather boots, also a remnant of their father.
“He loves me,” Steven replies once more before striding out the door.
Long hours later, after the wash basin has been cleared away and the water buckets stacked in the corner; after the rest of her mending has been done, and three new candles have been dipped, after her hair has been unknotted and pulled through with a bone comb and replaited down her back, Sadie sits and waits. She sits with fear in her heart and grief in her belly at the sight she knows she will see when Steven returns, at the salves and bandages she knows she’ll need and are set by his pallet. She knows the prince does not love her brother.
But she always will.
***
Sadie hears him when he finally returns, though she knows he’s trying to be quiet. She hears the rough canvas covering the wood plank door rub across the dirt, feels the chill in the air that comes with the early hour, and so she pulls herself from her pallet in their shared room and lights the candle beside her bed, determined to be there for her brother no matter what has transpired this night.
When she enters the main room she stops still. Her brother is clothed, though barely, his shirt untucked and his boots untied. His hair is a mess, his shoulder-length tresses, once pulled back in a leather cord, now matted and in disarray in a halo around his head. It’s not these things that stop her, though. Instead it’s the look on his tear-streaked face, the puffiness of his eyes and the redness of his nose. The bitten look of his lips and the shallow breaths he’s taking as he’s crossing the short space and falling, falling into her arms, the sobs building deep in his chest and then echoing through the room as they break against her shoulder.
“H-H-H-e,” Steven tries, but can’t because he’s wracked with more sobs, curling in on himself and taking Sadie to the cold floor with him. She spares a moment of thought for his trousers and her bedclothes and then lets it go, not minding the few hours it will take to clean them in her brother’s time of need. She runs a hand down his back and he leans into the touch as though starved for affection, for physical closeness.
She waits.
He cries into her shoulder for long minutes, his body alternating between pliant and tense as emotions run rampant through his veins.
She waits.
He tries to start talking again and then dissolves into endless sobs.
She waits.
She waits until the room becomes clearer and the shadows begin to fade, until the sun’s effect and be seen if not the sun itself. She waits until Steven’s shoulders stop shaking and his hands still where once they had been frantic, tapping at the floor and fidgeting this the edge of his shirt.
She waits and then, he speaks, his face in her lap and his eyes on the floor.
“He...he doesn’t love me.”
One sentence and Sadie’s heart breaks for her brother, because no matter how much she had known it this is really knowing and no matter how much she wanted to be wrong she had been right.
“Tell me what happened,” she whispers, afraid even her voice would break him.
“I-” he shudders, holding tightly to his sister’s legs, seeming to be the only thing grounding him to this earth. “He met me in the field as he said. He said- he said the most beautiful things, Sade, talked about remembering me as a child and knowing then that we were meant to be together. He kissed me, o-opened my mouth with his own and took what he wanted from it and then lied to me, told me I was his.”
Sadie nods even though he can’t see her. She runs her fingers through his hair, pulling out the knots as he breaths through his thoughts and speaks again.
“He...he took me to the barn then, and we kissed. We kissed and kissed and it was like heaven, Sadie, he...told me all kinds of things and he undressed and then undressed me and then pushed me down to...and I did, Sade, I did what he asked and he...”
He bit back his tears then, and Sadie just combed, combed, combed through his hair and offered no judgement, no words to dull the pain but none to deepen it, either.
“And when he was done in...in my mouth, he turned me over and just, I mean, he made it a little okay, Sade, but it was bad. It was so bad and I just...everything hurts and-”
Sadie fought with herself not to cry, not to say horrible things about Sebastian and not to let her rage show, but oh how she wanted. Wanted to punch and bite and claw at someone who would hurt her brother, take his trust and beat it black. But she didn’t. Instead she combed and combed and hummed low in her throat and listened.
He was quiet for a moment, then, and Sadie could feel the air around them tighten and expand, the unspoken words heavy and hard before he spoke.
“He-he told me I was a good fuck and not to say a word to anyone about it and if I-if I didn’t say anything maybe we could...we could do it again sometime. If I didn’t complain like a...”
He shuddered then before hardening, composing himself.
“Like a bitch.”
Sadie’s fingers stopped, utter fury threatening to overcome them both, and Steven tenses beneath her, reminding her where they are and why, and she begins to comb again, soothing, smoothing.
“And then he left. He left me there in the straw, Sade. Just...left so I- I just waited until it wasn’t so bad, until I could move again and I could put my clothes on and...Sade, I’m sorry about the pants, okay? I know you just fixed them and-”
“No, Steven,” she spoke, her voice loud yet calm in the stillness, scratchy from disuse. “No. You have nothing to apologize for. I wanted you to look perfect. You DID look perfect. Perfect enough for any prince.”
She can feel him shaking beneath her, undoubtedly crying again, and she damns Prince Sebastian. Damns him to hell for his selfishness and disrespect; for not honoring what he was offered this night. For inflicting seen and unseen damage on her brother.
The sun comes up and he finally goes to his pallet, quietly asking Sadie for water from the well. She tries not to listen to his groans and sharp cries in the other room as he tends to himself, ignores the blood on his trousers as she scrubs them cleaner than ever before.
Tries to let her heart be free to help mend someone instead of something.