Klaine Princess Diaries part 7
Joseph and Spencer sat up front while Blaine and Kurt cuddled in the back of the limo. Blaine had reservations for the swankiest restaurant in Lima. When the hostess realized who was trying to make a reservation (at the last minute, no less), she called the manager, who promised that Blaine would not only have the best table in the house, he wouldn’t have to pay a dime.
There were a few perks to the royal thing, Blaine admitted. Joseph had promised that no reporters would interrupt their evening, and Blaine decided to trust him. He wanted a perfect night with Kurt before everything exploded.
Kurt smiled at him, asking, “When’s the last time we sang together?”
“I… I don’t know,” Blaine replied. “I can’t remember.”
“Me either,” Kurt said. “But we have this limo all to ourselves, and I wanna sing with you.” He paused, ducking his head so he could look up at Blaine through his lashes. “But you do remember that song we used to sing? By your favorite artist?”
“Oh, yes,” Blaine said, leaning forward for a quick kiss before he said, “You start, babe.”
Blaine hummed the tune while Kurt swayed beside him, and he couldn’t help but smile as Kurt sang,
“Made a wrong turn, once or twice; dug my way out, blood and fire. Bad decisions, that's alright.” Kurt gave a cute little shrug, grinning at Blaine as he continued, “Welcome to my silly life.” His voice strengthened with, “Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood, Miss no way, it's all good, it didn't slow me down. Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated - look, I'm still around.”
Kurt nodded to Blaine, so he joined in on, “Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you’re less than, less than perfect. Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel like you’re nothing, you are perfect to me.”
They sang the whole song, and it was so much fun - Blaine had almost forgotten how much he loved singing with Kurt, no one else contributing. Just him and Kurt, voices so beautiful together. He laughed at Kurt’s little hand motion for “drinking ice cold beer” and they sang, “Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're nothing - you are perfect to me,” staring directly into each other’s eyes.
.
They were making out, Blaine practically in Kurt’s lap, when Joseph opened the door. “We are here, Your Highness,” he said blandly, while Spencer didn’t even try to hide his shit-eating grin.
“Thank you, Joseph,” Blaine said, as dignified as he could, sliding away from Kurt. But Kurt leaned over to hide his face behind Blaine’s shoulder, laughing.
Joseph and Spencer waited while Blaine fought down the urge to slam the door and jump Kurt, plans and bodyguards be damned. Finally, Kurt sat upright, perfectly composed. He smoothly exited the limo and turned, holding out his hand for Blaine.
“Come, Your Highness,” he purred, smirking wickedly.
Blaine swallowed heavily. He really wished they’d stayed in tonight.
.
A few of the other people in the restaurant stared, but on the whole, the night was as perfect as Blaine had imagined. He and Kurt talked about fashion and music and books and New York vs Pyrus, the capitol of Genovia. Blaine was still applying to NYU and a dozen other places in and around New York. He’d already talked to Grandmother about it. Kurt would apply to Julliard and a quite a few others in New York, and they’d go to New York after summering in Pyrus.
Kurt was very excited to be staying in an actual castle. Blaine was petrified, but Grandmother promised that everyone who lived and worked at the palace would be kind.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Kurt told him as they stood on the porch, ignoring the limo idling in the driveway, Spencer leaning against the passenger door, and Burt probably lurking in the front hall. “Tomorrow, the world will hear you declare yourself the heir. Queen Clarisse will claim you as her grandson, the only child of Prince Eduard Christophe Philippe Gerard Renaldo. And the people will cheer,” Kurt whispered, one of his hands threading through Blaine’s hair, ungelled because Kurt preferred it that way. “The people will adore you, Blaine Philippe Rupert Anderson Renaldo.” Kurt pressed a feathersoft kiss to Blaine’s lips, whispering into his mouth, “Prince of Genovia.”
“I love you,” Blaine whispered back. “Thank you for everything.”
“I love you,” Kurt replied, resting his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “You take my breath away.”
.
“Sleep well,” Joseph told Blaine as he went to the office where Eaton and Kendrick had set up their things.
“You, too, Joseph,” Blaine said, pausing by Dad’s office. He used to bring work home all the time until Mom died. He tried scaling back his hours after that, and Blaine knew things had been crazy for him since the whole prince thing started.
Blaine knocked on the door and Dad called, “Come in!”
Dad turned his chair away from the computer. “Blaine,” he said, “I thought you were going out with Kurt tonight.”
“I did,” Blaine replied. “But we have a busy day tomorrow and it’s after nine.”
Dad blinked, looking down at his watch. “Oh, wow, I didn’t even notice.”
“Can we talk, Dad? About, about tomorrow, and this summer, and the rest of my life?” Blaine asked. He’d discussed it with Grandmother and Kurt and Joseph, and Wes this afternoon, but he’d only gone over the bare bones with Dad. everything had been so insane for the past month, and he knew that Dad would do whatever he could.
“Sure, Blaine,” Dad said, standing up and stretching. “Want some cocoa?”
Blaine nodded. Mom had died on the coldest night of the year, so Dad made hot cocoa and swore things would eventually be alright. He brought cocoa from home when Blaine was trapped in a hospital bed after the dance debacle in freshman year. A part of Blaine still believed hot cocoa could heal.
So Blaine sat at the table while Dad put the teapot on and got out two mugs. Dad wasn’t high-tech: he just emptied two packets of instant cocoa mix in the mugs, set them by the stove, and sat across from Blaine.
“Dad,” Blaine said, “tomorrow I’ll officially become Genovia’s Crown Prince.”
“Yes.” Dad nodded. “Clarisse and I already discussed that.”
“You - you did?” Blaine asked, his plans for this conversation momentarily derailed.
“Of course we did,” Dad said. “When she and Joseph first approached me. By Genovian law, you’re still a minor, Blaine. And by American law, you’re still in my care for seven more months. Clarisse has no claim to you, legally, without my permission.”
“Really?” Blaine shook his head. “I didn’t know that.”
Dad laughed before asking, “You want to go to Genovia for the summer, right?” Blaine nodded. Dad continued, “And then college in New York, before going back to Genovia to learn the government.” Blaine nodded again, still somewhat in shock that Dad knew his plan so well.
“Blaine,” Dad said warmly, “you and Kurt really are transparent. And Joseph talks with me at breakfast before you get up.”
Blaine ducked his head, chuckling. “Well, now I feel silly,” he muttered.
“Don’t feel silly,” Dad told him. “You’re a teenager in love. I’ve been there.” They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Dad said, “You’re getting so big now. I can’t…” He turned his face away, wiping at his eyes.
“Dad,” Blaine said. “I haven’t… thank you. For everything. For adopting me. For loving me, even though I’m not your own. Just… thank you.”
Dad stood, moved around the table, and pulled Blaine into a hug. “Of course I love you,” he said into Blaine’s hair. “You’re my son. I couldn’t do anything else.”
The teapot shrieked. Dad chuckled and went to pour the water into the mugs. Then they sat at the table and talked until their cocoa was gone, about Dad’s work and Blaine’s classes and the terrible movies Dad liked and Blaine’s favorite genre of music this week.
After Blaine put their mugs in the sink, Dad pulled him into one more hug and whispered, “Good night, son.”
“Night, Dad,” Blaine said, and he actually felt he might be able to do this.
.
Of course, the next morning Blaine woke up yelling because of a nightmare where the crown tried to eat him. But he called Kurt and Kurt was able to calm him down, so he headed for the kitchen and his last breakfast as Blaine Anderson. He focused on his eggs, and Dad explaining the advertising business to Joseph, and beating his high score on Harbor Master. He didn’t think about dinners or balls or the speech he’d been unable to memorize. (Kurt and Grandmother had both written him one.)
“Your Highness,” Joseph said after Blaine had set his plate and cup in the sink. “We need to go to the Hilton now.”
“Yeah,” Blaine muttered. His stomach hurt, and his hands were shaking. He hadn’t been this nervous even when he approached Kurt about “Candles,” or his first day at Dalton after the dance.
“Don’t be worried, Your Highness,” Joseph told him kindly. “Her Majesty has planned everything.”
“Yeah.” Blaine chuckled. “And anything she didn’t think of, Kurt has.”
Joseph smiled. “Yes, Your Highness.”
.
There were a bunch of last minute things to take care of (apparently, there was some sort of shortage in the kitchen, Grandmother’s favorite chef had a last-minute emergency, a computer glitch meant two nobles who didn’t get along were in the same hall, and on and on), so Grandmother sat Blaine in her office and told him to stay out of the way.
He looked around the office, bored. It was really just a meeting room Grandmother had commandeered. The hotel manager was falling all over himself to give Grandmother anything she wanted, and she wanted an elegant place to throw a ball. They could have gone to New York, or even Cincinnati or Cleveland, anywhere but Lima - but Grandmother declared that the prince had grown up in the area, and so it was there the announcement must be made.
Whatever. It was still a dinner and a ball, and Blaine would have to be the perfect prince, and, oh, look, he was about to panic again.
Deep breaths, he told himself. You can do this, Blaine. He chuckled silently, thinking, Courage. Yes. Courage.
He could so totally do this. It couldn’t really be any more terrifying than meeting Burt Hummel as the boyfriend after first being found drunk in Kurt’s bed, and then telling Burt to give him a talk about sex.
Yeah. He nodded firmly, resolved. He’d make Mom, Dad, Grandmother, Grandmom, Grandma, and Kurt all proud tonight.
.
Blaine ate lunch with Grandmother in her office. “Are you nervous?” she asked, neatly cutting her sandwich into thirds.
“Not anymore,” he told her truthfully.
She smiled. “Very good, Blaine. This is the first of many events you shall attend or host in Genovia’s name. Tonight is a celebration.” She reached across the table to pat his hand. “We are honoring you, our heir at last coming home.”
“Why didn’t you ever approach me before?” he asked, carefully pulling his sandwich apart. “You knew about me for seventeen years… why wait until now?”
Grandmother focused on her sandwich. “Originally, we were waiting to see if Philippe ever found a suitable woman to wed and have more children with. You would always be the firstborn, but if he married a Genovian, things might be easier. And then after Philippe died, Rupert and I had hoped to wait until you were eighteen. Rupert was still king, and Parliament accepted that he had yet to name an heir. But Rupert succumbed late last year, and I held off the vultures for as long as I could.”
“You don’t think my mother was suitable?” Blaine asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Oh, my dear, that is not what I meant at all!” Grandmother sounded shocked and she dropped the piece of sandwich she’d been bringing to her mouth. “She simply wasn’t Genovian. But we announced your existence to the Parliament when questions were first raised regarding the heir, as Rupert’s health began declining. If there had been any other heir, I would no longer be queen, but because of how delicate an operation this would be - you arethe only heir.” Grandmother paused, glancing at him. “You are a bright, wonderful boy, Blaine. I am glad that of all the children my son could’ve had, you are his son.”
Blaine sighed, and smiled, and finished his sandwich.
.
“You’ll make an entrance,” Grandmother told him. “I’ll welcome everyone and then announce you. We’ll all sit down to dinner, you’ll delight our guests, and then it will be time for the ball.”
He nodded, staring at the regalia she’d set out for him. It had a black tailcoat with green lapels, a black bowtie, pants like he’d worn to prom, a white shirt, and his father’s ring. “Is it fancy enough?” he asked.
Grandmother actually giggled. Blaine gaped at her before pressing his lips together so that he wouldn’t laugh.
“It will be more than sufficient, Blaine, I assure you.” She touched his shoulder as she headed for the door. “We have a little more than an hour, Blaine; I need to get ready.” She stopped at the door to look back. “If you need help, Joseph will be able to assist you. I’ll see you tonight.” She turned to leave and looked back once more to say, “I love you, Blaine,” and then she gently closed the door behind her.
Blaine smiled, tilting his head to look at the clothes.
He could so totally do this.
.
“Your Highness,” Joseph said as Blaine waited in the hall, half a dozen suits in sight. “It is time.”
Blaine nodded, and told himself, Take a breath. Count to ten. He turned to face the doorway, and could hear through the door, “… my grandson….” Seven, eight, nine, and then, a deep breath, ten.
He walked through the door.
.
Blaine ignored everyone in the room but Kurt, who looked amazing in an embroidered black tailcoat, blue vest, a shirt just like Blaine’s, a slim green tie, a kilt identical to his prom one (well, it probably wasn’t, but Blaine sure couldn’t tell the difference), and his awesome ass-kicking boots.
Kurt smiled at him, bouncing in place, and Dad was beaming next to him. Blaine felt a surge of confidence go through him and he turned to Grandmother, who stepped back from the podium.
“Thank you all for being here,” he said. “I have to admit, at first I thought my life was over when Grandmother introduced herself and told me I was her grandson. I didn’t even know - well, that’s not important.” He caught Dad’s eye and paused, giving himself a moment to think. Glancing at Kurt, he continued, “I didn’t want to be a prince. I had a plan and I was sure that accepting the truth would steal it from me. But dreams can change. They can evolve into something better, something you never even imagined.”
He let his gaze leave Kurt, to look at everyone else in the room. All of the most powerful Genovians had traveled for the announcement, and all the major papers had a reporter present. Blaine’s only guests were Kurt and Dad; everyone else was from Genovia or one of Grandmother’s allies. There was a couple glaring at him, though. He’d have to ask Grandmother who they were.
“This morning, I woke Blaine Philippe Anderson,” he said, glancing at Grandmother. “But I am, now and forevermore, Blaine Philippe Rupert Anderson Renaldo.” He paused, looking back at Kurt and meeting his eyes as he said, “Prince of Genovia.”
Kurt led the cheering. Grandmother placed a plain silver circlet on Blaine’s head and two of her minions brought Blaine a cape in Genovian colors, placing it on his shoulders.
“Thank you,” Grandmother said, holding Blaine’s hand. “Dinner is served.”
.
Blaine was seated next to the Genovian Prime Minister, one of Grandmother’s staunchest supporters. Dad was at another table with Kurt, who sent a few longing looks Blaine’s way. The Spanish Ambassador was on Blaine’s other side, the French Ambassador across from him, and the Prime Minister’s wife completed the table. Grandmother’s seat was left empty as she visited each table for a few moments. She had already warned Blaine that he would accompany her halfway through the meal, for a slightly more personal introduction.
“Call me Karl,” the Prime Minister said. “This is my wife, Maria.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Blaine replied. “I’m sure you have a lot to teach me, sir.”
“Oh, please, just Karl,” he said. “Now, what has your grandmother told you about the Genovian pears?”
Karl, it turned out, had an orchard of his own. By the time Grandmother came to fetch Blaine, both of the Ambassadors had been drawn into a discussion about fruit exports and which smoothie (of pear, peach, strawberry, or mango) tasted the best.
“Excuse me, gentlemen and madam,” Grandmother said. “I most borrow my grandson for a few minutes.” As they all hurried to stand, Grandmother waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, please, stay seated. Enjoy your meals, please.”
“Thank you,” Blaine told the table at large. “This has been an enjoyable and informative discussion.” He gave them what Kurt called his I’m charming, don’t you adore me? smile and took Grandmother’s arm.
It would be awhile before Blaine could match all the names to the faces (he still had trouble with Joseph’s men), but he was able to speak to them all with what he thought, he hoped, was knowledge and kindness and so much charm they couldn’t help but love him. He knew a little something about them all, from Grandmother’s lessons on Genovia’s politics and policies, and he just naturally liked people until they did something to earn his anger or disdain. He just talked to them, all these people Grandmother had invited, and he smiled, and he laughed at their jokes, and any time he got lost, he would simply pause for a moment and smile some more and say, “I’m sorry, what was that?” and the conversation would move on.
But finally, finally the dinner was done, and Grandmother said, “Ladies and gentlemen, now the time has come for the fun part of the evening.” Blaine escorted her to the ballroom where they shared the first dance with everyone watching, and Blaine kept catching Kurt’s eye, smiling.
Blaine missed whatever cue Grandmother gave, but when the music ended, Kurt was right there, looking so gorgeous Blaine wished they were back in either of their rooms, holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?” he asked.
Grinning, Blaine said, “Yes, yes, you may.”
“You’re perfect,” Kurt whispered in his ear, holding him close. “Everyone in this room loves you.” He chuckled, using his low voice, the one that did odd things to Blaine. “Well, except maybe that scary couple skulking over there,” he corrected, nodding over Blaine’s shoulder. “I think they’d get the throne if you turned it down.”
“Too bad for them,” Blaine said, staring up into Kurt’s eyes. “I love you. So much.”
Kurt didn’t even look around. He smiled, his small, true smile, and he leaned down for a kiss - short, sweet, perfect. “I’ve loved you for so long it feels like forever,” Kurt murmured before pulling away.
Something occurred to Blaine as the music ended, and he tried, but he really couldn’t contain his laughter. He muffled it in Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt hummed something, but the next song started and they just kept dancing until Blaine regained control.
“What was that about?” Kurt asked quietly.
Blaine grinned at him. “I’m the prince,” he said. “That makes you Kate Middleton.”
Kurt’s laughter was muffled in Blaine’s neck, but Blaine caught several indulgent smiles. No one was glaring, no one was muttering, no one was scowling.
Yeah, Blaine could do this, with Kurt at his side.
masterpost
There were a few perks to the royal thing, Blaine admitted. Joseph had promised that no reporters would interrupt their evening, and Blaine decided to trust him. He wanted a perfect night with Kurt before everything exploded.
Kurt smiled at him, asking, “When’s the last time we sang together?”
“I… I don’t know,” Blaine replied. “I can’t remember.”
“Me either,” Kurt said. “But we have this limo all to ourselves, and I wanna sing with you.” He paused, ducking his head so he could look up at Blaine through his lashes. “But you do remember that song we used to sing? By your favorite artist?”
“Oh, yes,” Blaine said, leaning forward for a quick kiss before he said, “You start, babe.”
Blaine hummed the tune while Kurt swayed beside him, and he couldn’t help but smile as Kurt sang,
“Made a wrong turn, once or twice; dug my way out, blood and fire. Bad decisions, that's alright.” Kurt gave a cute little shrug, grinning at Blaine as he continued, “Welcome to my silly life.” His voice strengthened with, “Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood, Miss no way, it's all good, it didn't slow me down. Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated - look, I'm still around.”
Kurt nodded to Blaine, so he joined in on, “Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you’re less than, less than perfect. Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel like you’re nothing, you are perfect to me.”
They sang the whole song, and it was so much fun - Blaine had almost forgotten how much he loved singing with Kurt, no one else contributing. Just him and Kurt, voices so beautiful together. He laughed at Kurt’s little hand motion for “drinking ice cold beer” and they sang, “Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're nothing - you are perfect to me,” staring directly into each other’s eyes.
.
They were making out, Blaine practically in Kurt’s lap, when Joseph opened the door. “We are here, Your Highness,” he said blandly, while Spencer didn’t even try to hide his shit-eating grin.
“Thank you, Joseph,” Blaine said, as dignified as he could, sliding away from Kurt. But Kurt leaned over to hide his face behind Blaine’s shoulder, laughing.
Joseph and Spencer waited while Blaine fought down the urge to slam the door and jump Kurt, plans and bodyguards be damned. Finally, Kurt sat upright, perfectly composed. He smoothly exited the limo and turned, holding out his hand for Blaine.
“Come, Your Highness,” he purred, smirking wickedly.
Blaine swallowed heavily. He really wished they’d stayed in tonight.
.
A few of the other people in the restaurant stared, but on the whole, the night was as perfect as Blaine had imagined. He and Kurt talked about fashion and music and books and New York vs Pyrus, the capitol of Genovia. Blaine was still applying to NYU and a dozen other places in and around New York. He’d already talked to Grandmother about it. Kurt would apply to Julliard and a quite a few others in New York, and they’d go to New York after summering in Pyrus.
Kurt was very excited to be staying in an actual castle. Blaine was petrified, but Grandmother promised that everyone who lived and worked at the palace would be kind.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Kurt told him as they stood on the porch, ignoring the limo idling in the driveway, Spencer leaning against the passenger door, and Burt probably lurking in the front hall. “Tomorrow, the world will hear you declare yourself the heir. Queen Clarisse will claim you as her grandson, the only child of Prince Eduard Christophe Philippe Gerard Renaldo. And the people will cheer,” Kurt whispered, one of his hands threading through Blaine’s hair, ungelled because Kurt preferred it that way. “The people will adore you, Blaine Philippe Rupert Anderson Renaldo.” Kurt pressed a feathersoft kiss to Blaine’s lips, whispering into his mouth, “Prince of Genovia.”
“I love you,” Blaine whispered back. “Thank you for everything.”
“I love you,” Kurt replied, resting his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “You take my breath away.”
.
“Sleep well,” Joseph told Blaine as he went to the office where Eaton and Kendrick had set up their things.
“You, too, Joseph,” Blaine said, pausing by Dad’s office. He used to bring work home all the time until Mom died. He tried scaling back his hours after that, and Blaine knew things had been crazy for him since the whole prince thing started.
Blaine knocked on the door and Dad called, “Come in!”
Dad turned his chair away from the computer. “Blaine,” he said, “I thought you were going out with Kurt tonight.”
“I did,” Blaine replied. “But we have a busy day tomorrow and it’s after nine.”
Dad blinked, looking down at his watch. “Oh, wow, I didn’t even notice.”
“Can we talk, Dad? About, about tomorrow, and this summer, and the rest of my life?” Blaine asked. He’d discussed it with Grandmother and Kurt and Joseph, and Wes this afternoon, but he’d only gone over the bare bones with Dad. everything had been so insane for the past month, and he knew that Dad would do whatever he could.
“Sure, Blaine,” Dad said, standing up and stretching. “Want some cocoa?”
Blaine nodded. Mom had died on the coldest night of the year, so Dad made hot cocoa and swore things would eventually be alright. He brought cocoa from home when Blaine was trapped in a hospital bed after the dance debacle in freshman year. A part of Blaine still believed hot cocoa could heal.
So Blaine sat at the table while Dad put the teapot on and got out two mugs. Dad wasn’t high-tech: he just emptied two packets of instant cocoa mix in the mugs, set them by the stove, and sat across from Blaine.
“Dad,” Blaine said, “tomorrow I’ll officially become Genovia’s Crown Prince.”
“Yes.” Dad nodded. “Clarisse and I already discussed that.”
“You - you did?” Blaine asked, his plans for this conversation momentarily derailed.
“Of course we did,” Dad said. “When she and Joseph first approached me. By Genovian law, you’re still a minor, Blaine. And by American law, you’re still in my care for seven more months. Clarisse has no claim to you, legally, without my permission.”
“Really?” Blaine shook his head. “I didn’t know that.”
Dad laughed before asking, “You want to go to Genovia for the summer, right?” Blaine nodded. Dad continued, “And then college in New York, before going back to Genovia to learn the government.” Blaine nodded again, still somewhat in shock that Dad knew his plan so well.
“Blaine,” Dad said warmly, “you and Kurt really are transparent. And Joseph talks with me at breakfast before you get up.”
Blaine ducked his head, chuckling. “Well, now I feel silly,” he muttered.
“Don’t feel silly,” Dad told him. “You’re a teenager in love. I’ve been there.” They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Dad said, “You’re getting so big now. I can’t…” He turned his face away, wiping at his eyes.
“Dad,” Blaine said. “I haven’t… thank you. For everything. For adopting me. For loving me, even though I’m not your own. Just… thank you.”
Dad stood, moved around the table, and pulled Blaine into a hug. “Of course I love you,” he said into Blaine’s hair. “You’re my son. I couldn’t do anything else.”
The teapot shrieked. Dad chuckled and went to pour the water into the mugs. Then they sat at the table and talked until their cocoa was gone, about Dad’s work and Blaine’s classes and the terrible movies Dad liked and Blaine’s favorite genre of music this week.
After Blaine put their mugs in the sink, Dad pulled him into one more hug and whispered, “Good night, son.”
“Night, Dad,” Blaine said, and he actually felt he might be able to do this.
.
Of course, the next morning Blaine woke up yelling because of a nightmare where the crown tried to eat him. But he called Kurt and Kurt was able to calm him down, so he headed for the kitchen and his last breakfast as Blaine Anderson. He focused on his eggs, and Dad explaining the advertising business to Joseph, and beating his high score on Harbor Master. He didn’t think about dinners or balls or the speech he’d been unable to memorize. (Kurt and Grandmother had both written him one.)
“Your Highness,” Joseph said after Blaine had set his plate and cup in the sink. “We need to go to the Hilton now.”
“Yeah,” Blaine muttered. His stomach hurt, and his hands were shaking. He hadn’t been this nervous even when he approached Kurt about “Candles,” or his first day at Dalton after the dance.
“Don’t be worried, Your Highness,” Joseph told him kindly. “Her Majesty has planned everything.”
“Yeah.” Blaine chuckled. “And anything she didn’t think of, Kurt has.”
Joseph smiled. “Yes, Your Highness.”
.
There were a bunch of last minute things to take care of (apparently, there was some sort of shortage in the kitchen, Grandmother’s favorite chef had a last-minute emergency, a computer glitch meant two nobles who didn’t get along were in the same hall, and on and on), so Grandmother sat Blaine in her office and told him to stay out of the way.
He looked around the office, bored. It was really just a meeting room Grandmother had commandeered. The hotel manager was falling all over himself to give Grandmother anything she wanted, and she wanted an elegant place to throw a ball. They could have gone to New York, or even Cincinnati or Cleveland, anywhere but Lima - but Grandmother declared that the prince had grown up in the area, and so it was there the announcement must be made.
Whatever. It was still a dinner and a ball, and Blaine would have to be the perfect prince, and, oh, look, he was about to panic again.
Deep breaths, he told himself. You can do this, Blaine. He chuckled silently, thinking, Courage. Yes. Courage.
He could so totally do this. It couldn’t really be any more terrifying than meeting Burt Hummel as the boyfriend after first being found drunk in Kurt’s bed, and then telling Burt to give him a talk about sex.
Yeah. He nodded firmly, resolved. He’d make Mom, Dad, Grandmother, Grandmom, Grandma, and Kurt all proud tonight.
.
Blaine ate lunch with Grandmother in her office. “Are you nervous?” she asked, neatly cutting her sandwich into thirds.
“Not anymore,” he told her truthfully.
She smiled. “Very good, Blaine. This is the first of many events you shall attend or host in Genovia’s name. Tonight is a celebration.” She reached across the table to pat his hand. “We are honoring you, our heir at last coming home.”
“Why didn’t you ever approach me before?” he asked, carefully pulling his sandwich apart. “You knew about me for seventeen years… why wait until now?”
Grandmother focused on her sandwich. “Originally, we were waiting to see if Philippe ever found a suitable woman to wed and have more children with. You would always be the firstborn, but if he married a Genovian, things might be easier. And then after Philippe died, Rupert and I had hoped to wait until you were eighteen. Rupert was still king, and Parliament accepted that he had yet to name an heir. But Rupert succumbed late last year, and I held off the vultures for as long as I could.”
“You don’t think my mother was suitable?” Blaine asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Oh, my dear, that is not what I meant at all!” Grandmother sounded shocked and she dropped the piece of sandwich she’d been bringing to her mouth. “She simply wasn’t Genovian. But we announced your existence to the Parliament when questions were first raised regarding the heir, as Rupert’s health began declining. If there had been any other heir, I would no longer be queen, but because of how delicate an operation this would be - you arethe only heir.” Grandmother paused, glancing at him. “You are a bright, wonderful boy, Blaine. I am glad that of all the children my son could’ve had, you are his son.”
Blaine sighed, and smiled, and finished his sandwich.
.
“You’ll make an entrance,” Grandmother told him. “I’ll welcome everyone and then announce you. We’ll all sit down to dinner, you’ll delight our guests, and then it will be time for the ball.”
He nodded, staring at the regalia she’d set out for him. It had a black tailcoat with green lapels, a black bowtie, pants like he’d worn to prom, a white shirt, and his father’s ring. “Is it fancy enough?” he asked.
Grandmother actually giggled. Blaine gaped at her before pressing his lips together so that he wouldn’t laugh.
“It will be more than sufficient, Blaine, I assure you.” She touched his shoulder as she headed for the door. “We have a little more than an hour, Blaine; I need to get ready.” She stopped at the door to look back. “If you need help, Joseph will be able to assist you. I’ll see you tonight.” She turned to leave and looked back once more to say, “I love you, Blaine,” and then she gently closed the door behind her.
Blaine smiled, tilting his head to look at the clothes.
He could so totally do this.
.
“Your Highness,” Joseph said as Blaine waited in the hall, half a dozen suits in sight. “It is time.”
Blaine nodded, and told himself, Take a breath. Count to ten. He turned to face the doorway, and could hear through the door, “… my grandson….” Seven, eight, nine, and then, a deep breath, ten.
He walked through the door.
.
Blaine ignored everyone in the room but Kurt, who looked amazing in an embroidered black tailcoat, blue vest, a shirt just like Blaine’s, a slim green tie, a kilt identical to his prom one (well, it probably wasn’t, but Blaine sure couldn’t tell the difference), and his awesome ass-kicking boots.
Kurt smiled at him, bouncing in place, and Dad was beaming next to him. Blaine felt a surge of confidence go through him and he turned to Grandmother, who stepped back from the podium.
“Thank you all for being here,” he said. “I have to admit, at first I thought my life was over when Grandmother introduced herself and told me I was her grandson. I didn’t even know - well, that’s not important.” He caught Dad’s eye and paused, giving himself a moment to think. Glancing at Kurt, he continued, “I didn’t want to be a prince. I had a plan and I was sure that accepting the truth would steal it from me. But dreams can change. They can evolve into something better, something you never even imagined.”
He let his gaze leave Kurt, to look at everyone else in the room. All of the most powerful Genovians had traveled for the announcement, and all the major papers had a reporter present. Blaine’s only guests were Kurt and Dad; everyone else was from Genovia or one of Grandmother’s allies. There was a couple glaring at him, though. He’d have to ask Grandmother who they were.
“This morning, I woke Blaine Philippe Anderson,” he said, glancing at Grandmother. “But I am, now and forevermore, Blaine Philippe Rupert Anderson Renaldo.” He paused, looking back at Kurt and meeting his eyes as he said, “Prince of Genovia.”
Kurt led the cheering. Grandmother placed a plain silver circlet on Blaine’s head and two of her minions brought Blaine a cape in Genovian colors, placing it on his shoulders.
“Thank you,” Grandmother said, holding Blaine’s hand. “Dinner is served.”
.
Blaine was seated next to the Genovian Prime Minister, one of Grandmother’s staunchest supporters. Dad was at another table with Kurt, who sent a few longing looks Blaine’s way. The Spanish Ambassador was on Blaine’s other side, the French Ambassador across from him, and the Prime Minister’s wife completed the table. Grandmother’s seat was left empty as she visited each table for a few moments. She had already warned Blaine that he would accompany her halfway through the meal, for a slightly more personal introduction.
“Call me Karl,” the Prime Minister said. “This is my wife, Maria.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Blaine replied. “I’m sure you have a lot to teach me, sir.”
“Oh, please, just Karl,” he said. “Now, what has your grandmother told you about the Genovian pears?”
Karl, it turned out, had an orchard of his own. By the time Grandmother came to fetch Blaine, both of the Ambassadors had been drawn into a discussion about fruit exports and which smoothie (of pear, peach, strawberry, or mango) tasted the best.
“Excuse me, gentlemen and madam,” Grandmother said. “I most borrow my grandson for a few minutes.” As they all hurried to stand, Grandmother waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, please, stay seated. Enjoy your meals, please.”
“Thank you,” Blaine told the table at large. “This has been an enjoyable and informative discussion.” He gave them what Kurt called his I’m charming, don’t you adore me? smile and took Grandmother’s arm.
It would be awhile before Blaine could match all the names to the faces (he still had trouble with Joseph’s men), but he was able to speak to them all with what he thought, he hoped, was knowledge and kindness and so much charm they couldn’t help but love him. He knew a little something about them all, from Grandmother’s lessons on Genovia’s politics and policies, and he just naturally liked people until they did something to earn his anger or disdain. He just talked to them, all these people Grandmother had invited, and he smiled, and he laughed at their jokes, and any time he got lost, he would simply pause for a moment and smile some more and say, “I’m sorry, what was that?” and the conversation would move on.
But finally, finally the dinner was done, and Grandmother said, “Ladies and gentlemen, now the time has come for the fun part of the evening.” Blaine escorted her to the ballroom where they shared the first dance with everyone watching, and Blaine kept catching Kurt’s eye, smiling.
Blaine missed whatever cue Grandmother gave, but when the music ended, Kurt was right there, looking so gorgeous Blaine wished they were back in either of their rooms, holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?” he asked.
Grinning, Blaine said, “Yes, yes, you may.”
“You’re perfect,” Kurt whispered in his ear, holding him close. “Everyone in this room loves you.” He chuckled, using his low voice, the one that did odd things to Blaine. “Well, except maybe that scary couple skulking over there,” he corrected, nodding over Blaine’s shoulder. “I think they’d get the throne if you turned it down.”
“Too bad for them,” Blaine said, staring up into Kurt’s eyes. “I love you. So much.”
Kurt didn’t even look around. He smiled, his small, true smile, and he leaned down for a kiss - short, sweet, perfect. “I’ve loved you for so long it feels like forever,” Kurt murmured before pulling away.
Something occurred to Blaine as the music ended, and he tried, but he really couldn’t contain his laughter. He muffled it in Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt hummed something, but the next song started and they just kept dancing until Blaine regained control.
“What was that about?” Kurt asked quietly.
Blaine grinned at him. “I’m the prince,” he said. “That makes you Kate Middleton.”
Kurt’s laughter was muffled in Blaine’s neck, but Blaine caught several indulgent smiles. No one was glaring, no one was muttering, no one was scowling.
Yeah, Blaine could do this, with Kurt at his side.
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