Fic: Of Pavarotti and Other Golden Things (1/12)
Title: Of Pavarotti and Other Golden Things (1/12)
Spoilers: Glee: none, Tangled: whole film
Word Count: 1,003
Disclaimer: I own neither Glee nor Tangled, they belong to their respective owners.
Summary: Blaine Anderson—sorry, Brynn Rider—was just trying to hide from that damn horse. And Kurt—well, he just wants to get out of his tower. Is that too much to ask? Well, yeah, but that's not the point.
A/N: So. This chapter is a little short, and a little boring. I just need to set the scene and then the next chapter will be coming soon. I hope. Anyway, this IS A TANGLED CROSSOVER. If you haven't seen Tangled, I suggest watching it first. Thanks to Muchacha10 on dA for some of the ideas!
This is the story of how I died.
Ok, that's a total lie. This story isn't actually about me, at all. It's a story about friendship and new discoveries and—
Ow. Ow. Please don't do that, Pav.
This is a story about a boy. A boy named Kurt. And it starts with the sun.
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, a drop of sun fell from the heavens to a rocky, uneven cliff below. And from this drop of sun grew a magical, beautiful plant. This plant had many different qualities, depending on the song sang to it, but its main ability was to heal the sick.
Oh! Look, it's the old woman. You don't really need to remember her; like I said, this story is about Kurt.
Anyway. Centuries passed, and a majestic city sprung up on a nearby island. It was governed by a kind, just king and queen. And the queen was expecting, like, really expecting. But she got sick. Real, real sick. And when someone you love like the subjects of their kingdom loved her, you start looking for miracles. Or rather, more specifically, the magical beautiful plant.
What I just said made no sense. Anyway, they looked for the plant.
Aha, it's the old woman. Ok, I lied, you probably need to remember her.
So, instead of being a good, caring citizen like me, she refused to share the powers of the plant, and used it to keep herself young and pretty for centuries. But believe me, she didn't look all that good anyway. Anyway, this woman, she would sing to the flower, and it would restore her youth. Creepy, right?
But she wasn't quiiiite careful enough. When she fled from the soldiers, her lamp knocked the basket covering the plant—and it tipped off the edge of the cliff, leaving it free to be found. And found it was.
The flower was made into a magical, beautiful, potion, and when the queen drank it she recovered miraculously. A healthy, beautiful baby boy was born, with beautiful hair that was neither brown nor blonde. I'm sure you already know who this is. That's right—that was Kurt.
In celebration of his birth, the king and queen released a singing lantern into the sky. Yes, you heard me right. I did say singing lantern. No, I don't know how they work. Look, if drops of sun can fall from the sky, lanterns can sing.
Anyway. For that one moment, everything was perfect.
And then that moment ended. God, that sounds so bad. So cliché. I hate being cliché.
The old woman stole into Kurt's room during the night and sang the song quietly, quietly. Sure enough, Kurt's hair, short as it was, glowed in the darkness of the room. The old woman took out her scissors, and she chopped off a lock of his hair. But as soon as it parted from Kurt, it's strange colour faded and was replaced by a normal, light brown.
The king and queen woke as soon as they heard their child crying, but by then it was too late. The old woman was gone—and Kurt was gone with her.
The kingdom searched high and low and high again, but they could find no trace of the lost prince. Deep within the forest, in a hidden tower, the old woman raised the child as her own.
I don't get how they didn't find that tower. I mean, guys, it was just behind some ivy, dammit! Are you that unobservant?
But it didn't last. One day, while travelling in the bordering kingdom of Dalton, the old woman was barricaded into a city under quarantine. Desperate, she gave the location to the tower to a young boy called Dave Karofsky. She instructed Dave to bring Kurt to her, to heal her, but as soon as Dave saw the ten-year-old child and understood what wealth his hair could bring, he stayed right there and told Kurt that the old lady had gone away.
She died in the city.
Now, after this I don't know what happened. It's mostly guesswork. Guesswork and Wesley Montgomery. But mostly guesswork.
Dave was young, and strong. There was no reason for him to need Kurt's hair. So, after some extensive research, he tracked down a woman who sold him a different song, a song that gave strength. Legend says that woman was called Sue Sylvester and sang her songs to small animals, which resulted in their death and her ability to expand her muscles to twice their original size on demand.
And then, when Kurt turned fourteen, Dave started seeing him differently. He decided that Kurt belonged to him, and only him. He could never leave the tower. He spun long, scary stories about the things people would make Kurt do as the younger boy brushed his hair every evening, to make sure that Kurt would never, ever leave him.
But he couldn't hide everything from Kurt.
Every year, on Kurt's birthday, the king and queen would release hundreds of the singing lanterns into the sky, in the hope that one day their lost prince would return. And every year, Kurt would sneak out of his bed, dragging his hair behind him, and he would watch the lights and listen to the voices and wonder if maybe, just maybe, those voices were calling to him.
I'm so sentimental. And so nice. I just told you an entire story and I didn't mention myself once. Not even the time when—
Ow. Ow. Don't do that, Pav. Ok, I won't tell them that story.
But this story isn't about me. It was never about me. And I shouldn't even pretend it's about me.
It's about Kurt. Kurt is where it starts, and Kurt is where it ends. Of course, I fill the bits in between, make the story funny and become rather dashing, if I do say so—
Yes. Right. On to the story then. So, not too long ago...