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Castiel shut the rickety wooden door behind himself, the hinges squealing loudly due to rust from lack of use. He cursed, hopping down onto the soft dirt and quietly listening to make sure nobody had heard the door shut. His Father would have his head on a stick if he got caught sneaking out again. Pulling his cloak shut at the next gust of wind, he determined it was safe to continue and headed off toward the distant treeline. The forest behind the castle was the only time Castiel found himself able to be free, the only time he truly had any privacy. His quarters were too lavish, the servants too… servant-y. He didn’t like being born a member of the royal family, not when the whole world out there was his to explore. Especially not when everyone in the village survived in poor conditions. Why was Castiel any different from them? They were human too, were they not? The heartless, cold corridors of this castle haunted him. The stones and gems and lush carpets, the silk and heavy fabrics that kept him warm, part of him despised it all. He hated his Father most of all, the man who kept him caged her. His Mother was powerless, everyone knew it even if none would confess it. He knew instinctively he was betraying some deep part of himself by longing for a different life. It felt wrong to wish suffering upon his life, but that was the only thing that ever truly felt right. He pushed these thoughts aside, marching up through the mud and checking over his shoulder every now and then to ensure he wasn’t being followed. The rain a few days before made everything smell like damp Earth, and he loved it. It was hard to resist smiling softly, crouching down to silently admire the small flowers that pushed their way up through the mud. As gently as he could he ran a finger over a tiny petal, taking in a deep breath and shutting his eyes to listen to the leaves rustling in the wind, feel the feeling of the world around him. Yes, this was where he belonged. Not shoved into a cold room, meeting with young women he was supposed to marry. “I don’t think you’re allowed out this far, sir.” Castiel opened his eyes, standing and turning at the sound of a new voice. A young man on a large horse stood a few feet away, watching Castiel with a neutral expression. He had short-cut brown hair, a fair complexion aside from slight stubble, and what Castiel could only hope was just dirt on his face and clothes. His eyes though, caught the light. A stunning green, one that reminded Castiel of the forest he loved so much. “I suppose you’re right.” Castiel gave a small nod, adjusting so he didn’t start to sink too far into the mud. “Has my Father sent you?” The other man shook his head. So far he was silent, which was confusing. This expression showed on his face as he asked his next question, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you mute?” “No.” “Then who are you?” The man chuckled a little, leaning forward on his horse. “You’re a bit demanding, are you not? I would’ve thought they’d teach you better manners in a place like this.” Castiel was only further perplexed, scoffing and dropping his arms since he didn’t know what else to do with them. “It’s a fair question to ask. What would you like me to call you?” “Dean.” There was a small pause and Castiel nodded. “Dean, then.” Dean himself also gave a nod, somewhat of a bow, although he wasn’t too fond of royalty and found the whole idea to be quite ridiculous. Castiel hadn’t expected anything less, and to an extent, he respected the decision. Dean had a certain strength he didn’t, and for that quality Castiel would probably always admire him. “Would you like a ride back to the castle?” Dean spoke up after a few moments, watching as Castiel shook his head and turned, heading deeper into the forest. “No, that’s alright. I can walk just fine.” ”I think you’ve got your sense of direction a bit mixed there, sir. Castle’s the other way.” Castiel bit back an irritated sigh, glancing over his shoulder to watch as the other followed him on his horse with a bit of a smug look. It annoyed him. “I know where I’m going. You can attend to your duties, you needn’t follow me.” “Oh, I needn’t?” ”No. You needn’t.” Castiel turned heel, giving the other a sharp look, still forever perplexed when he just smiled back. Why was he so.. annoying, yes. Too annoying, annoying enough his collar felt a bit too tight and now the breeze didn’t seem cold enough. He huffed, marching up a steep incline, slipping a few times on the slick ground, ignoring the heat on his cheeks. “I wouldn’t recommend that, you’ll fall face-first into the mud.” Dean continued following the other on his horse, now mostly because he was intrigued by this Prince’s perseverance and stubbornness. “I’ll be just fine, thank you very much.” Castiel couldn’t finish his thought, tripping over a tree root when he turned to give the other a small glare. Dean stifled his laugh as the royal scrambled to push himself up, wiping away dirt from his face and clothes. Castiel huffed, turning and stamping a foot into the ground. “Now look what you’ve done!” ”I haven’t done a thing.” ”Yes you have, you’ve distracted me and now I’m covered in mud!” ”I believe that was entirely your own doing, sir, I did warn you.” ”Oh shut up, I’ve heard enough of your stupid voice.” Castiel turned away with an aggravated groan, Dean chuckled to himself and rested against his horse’s mane, waiting a few moments to let the other boy sort out his very big feelings before speaking again. He truly tried his best not to sound demeaning. “Would you like a ride back to the castle?” A heavy sigh of defeat. Castiel didn’t speak, but he walked around and swatted Dean’s hand away when he offered to help him up. After a bit of struggle, he pulled himself onto the horse, resting his hands in his lap. Dean cast an eye over his shoulder, taking the reins in both hands now. “I think it’d be good to hold on if I were you. You’ve already got enough mud.” ”I'll be just fine.” Dean watched him for a few more moments before shrugging and looking forward again, taking a breath. “Your choice, sir.” He set the horse off at a nice trot, lurching them forward and nearly casting Castiel off the side of the animal before instinctively he grabbed Dean's waist, hugging against his back and making sure to hold on. As much as he tried to be stubborn, it seemed Dean always ended up the winner. They’d only just met and still Castiel was confused, warmth in his chest clashing with the annoyance in his head at the other’s smugness. Why did he have to be so charming, yet such an ass? Dean was in a different state of mind, curious about the other. It wasn’t every day he met a Prince after all, and certainly not a common occurrence for him to be able to tease one like so. Castiel didn’t seem to be against it, so Dean enjoyed it. He liked the other’s eyes, glancing over his shoulder now and then to get a peek at them. They were so bright and deep, layers of blue, hints of gray. It reminded him of the sea, of the oceanside, and of his home. He missed the way the water would crash against his ankles, the foam pooling in the sand, and the feel of warm rays of sunshine against the bitter wind from off the coast. When he looked into Castiel’s eyes, he felt as though he was there again, standing on the beach, home. He was at peace in those eyes, something he didn’t feel often these days. Despite this, he took the other back as promised. This didn’t stop Castiel from going on his outings to the forest, and more often than not he would find Dean somewhere along the path. They grew closer, learning small details about each other, taking more rides to and from the castle, and even Castiel helping in the stables. This was hidden from everyone since it would be frowned upon greatly if they were ever discovered. Castiel wasn’t meant to be around the likes of Dean, and Dean wasn’t even meant to be speaking to the other, much less offering him rides on his horse and having him anywhere near the stables. Despite the dangers, they went out of their way to see each other. It was just a friendship, a strong one, one that made them jump hoops to ensure they’d be safely tucked away out of sight, but only a friendship. That’s what they assure themselves when they lay awake in their beds at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering what it might be like to have the other’s warmth lying next to them. Dean wondered what it might be like when he slept on hay in the stables, but the danger of knowing what he might do to Castiel was too much, and it held his words in his throat when they were together. It was forbidden in more ways than one. He wasn’t meant to feel this for another man, not for the Prince. He wasn’t meant to feel much of anything, he was just a stable boy. He shoveled shit and he took the backhanded slaps when he made a mistake and he never spoke a word to anyone he was meant to respect. He wasn’t supposed to be friends with the Prince of the kingdom, and even more so he wasn’t supposed to be in love with him. The thought kept him on his knees in the church far past when all the others had gone, it kept him there until he was bruised and barren, starving for an answer. An answer never came, just a building sense of longing whenever he got a glimpse of those deep blue eyes. Why? Dean hated himself for the way he was, and for the way the only person who could make him feel better was the very person he wasn’t allowed to have. Castiel was restless, tossing and turning, staring out the window of his chambers, pressing his hands against the cold frosted glass when he felt like he couldn’t think. When he woke up sweating, dizzy with blood rushing to his head and his dick, making it impossible to do anything but lay there in misery. He refused to give in, even though he wished he could. Castiel would give anything to feel those lips on his, the way Dean’s stubble would scratch his cheeks, the way those rough hands would be so gentle. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, panting and trying to force it away. Why would God torture him with desire for something he knew he couldn’t have? It dragged him from his sheets and to the chapel, and dropped to his knees, begging silently for mercy. Castiel pleaded and cried, whimpering in the silence that returned. Nobody was listening, and nobody would answer. There was no answer, only the lingering pain, the constant pull from his chest. It was pathetic and he knew that, he told it to himself even when his hand shifted lower, begging for forgiveness at the altar even when he started stroking gently. The release was better than the pain, sobbing for his sins, apologizing over and over even as the heat built in his core and dripped to the floor, pooling on the cool stone. He thought of his forbidden stable boy, his forest green eyes, his dirty brown hair, the way his shirt always opened more in the wind, the shape of his body. He remembered holding that body when they rode together, the perfect curve on his waist, the strong muscle he knew was underneath that scarred, tanned skin. He remembered the scent of fire, he remembered burying his nose into the back of the other’s neck. Short gasping breaths filled the space where his pleas once were, eyes shifting up at the cross before him. He gripped the pew, locking his jaw shut and swallowing any further noise as he tore his eyes away, feeling the sticky liquid drip from between his fingers. What had he become?

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Seasons changed, leaves fell and winter came, bringing bitter cold and light snowfall. Shirts turned to layers and elaborate designs of lace on thick capes and coats. Picnics turned to long dinners in a grand hall lit by a big fireplace. Castiel still remained forever uninterested in the meetings with his potential wives, which only angered his Father more by the day. The only seemingly good thing brought about by the winter was that Dean spent more time inside than he did in the stables. Tonight Castiel sat at the grand table staring down at his food. Nothing looked appetizing anymore, and he’d only started to eat less the longer the days ran. Dean had noticed from his post standing silent by the door, but he refrained from commenting. He couldn’t, not in front of the entire Royal family. They weren’t even supposed to know each other, much less be acquainted. Nobody noticed that Castiel didn’t eat, nobody besides Dean. The plates were cleared away and Castiel was dismissed back to his chambers. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his clothing and letting his mind wander. What was in store for the next day? More meetings with young ladies, fencing lessons, if he remembered correctly he had some studying to do for an exam. He slipped his feet from the boots, resting them against the cool stone, shivering slightly at the difference in temperature. His sleeping clothes had already been laid out on the bed, the soft silk running smoothly through his fingers and over his shoulders. It was a deep solid blue, silver embroidery along the sleeves and collar. He felt he didn’t deserve such lavish things, all of these belongings, not after his sins. They seemed to only grow stronger by the day, impossible to wash clean no matter how long he scrubbed at his skin or how many hours he spent in the chapel. A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts. “Coming.” Castiel called over his shoulder, finishing the buttons along the front of his shirt as he walked over and opened the door. He stilled being met face to face with Dean, who gave hints of a smile in his eyes to hide it from anyone else but Castiel. “Dean.” Castiel let out a breath, his arm slowly dropping to his sides. He lowered his voice, checking down the hall to make sure nobody else was around. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here, this is dangerous.” ”You didn’t eat at dinner.” Dean replied quietly, seemingly unbothered by his words. “Are you feeling alright?" “Yes, I’m fine, still—why are you here? You can’t be seen with me.” Dean pushed himself into Castiel’s room, ignoring as the other sputtered for a moment, and quickly shut his door, locking it. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I was worried.” “Well, I’m perfectly fine, so you can go.” Castiel stepped up to him, turning his head up slightly to meet the other’s eyes. Dean didn’t move or speak for a moment, taking a deep breath and watching the other. He didn’t want to leave, and in all honesty, the words he wanted to say felt stuck in his throat. Castiel felt too close, too warm, like the sun. Dean was nothing in front of this beautiful person in front of him. He could see the other talking, speaking to him, trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t listen. Those gorgeous blue eyes, pulled him under, drowning him in a way he hadn’t been before. Castiel slapped him. Dean’s head jerked to the side, pulling a gasp from his chest as he put a hand over the forming red mark on his cheek. He knew he should be angry, but for some reason it only made him want to kiss him more. “What the hell are you doing here like this? You know you’re not supposed to be—” Dean grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward but meeting his lips gently. Castiel gasped, his eyes widening as he froze. Surely he’d thought about this very moment endlessly for weeks, months even, but now that he was living it? It wasn’t supposed to happen. All that work he’d put into trying to forget the other, and now it was gone. He felt Dean’s hand on his shirt, his warm breath, the way he could’ve easily tossed him around but he didn’t. This sort of sweet serenity lasted only a few moments before Castiel came to his senses, breaking the kiss and shoving Dean away so roughly that he tripped over the rug and fell to the ground with a hiss of pain. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you even—“ Casteil started shouting before he realized he was far too loud, stumbling back a half step as heat flushed through his whole body. Dean just looked up at him with wide eyes and bated breath. Had he fucked it all up? Had he been misreading this whole time? Castiel lowered his volume, bordering on anger. “Dean, you can’t just— We can’t. Do you understand that? Fuck, why would you…” He trailed off, running his hands through his hair as he shut his eyes and tried to get his mind to work properly. All his work, all his progress at trying to force the other into a box he could lock away was gone. Useless. “I’m sorry,” Dean said quietly as if his words might shatter a very thin plane of glass. That’s what it felt like, walking on glass, knowing if he fell through he’d only get cut. Part of the danger was what made it so appealing though, the risk, the looming knowledge that this, whatever this was, wasn’t right. Or so they say. Carefully he pushed himself to his feet, hesitating before moving a step forward. Castiel moved back in tandem, dropping his hands, and tilting his head away in shame. He wasn’t supposed to like it, it was wrong and bad, he was broken. “I’m sorry, Cas—” ”Don’t.” Castiel brought a hand up, whether it was to shield himself or hit the other again he couldn’t remember, “Don’t call me that. You shouldn’t." ”I shouldn’t, or you don't want me to?” Castiel cursed under his breath, scoffing and lifting his head only to glare at Dean. Now it was his turn to move forward and grab his shirt, yanking him close enough he could smell that familiar aroma of burning wood and ash. The way his eyes widened a fraction, showing those gorgeous forest green eyes. No- “What— Why? Why are you doing this?” Castiel started sharply, forcing down those other thoughts. “Why are you making this more difficult for me? You must like it, seeing me suffer. I wonder if you might be the devil himself, tempting me like this. How— How?” His breath caught, a strange feeling pooling in his gut. Dean remained quiet, somehow only more and more attracted now that the other was angry with him. “You know this is wrong. You know it in your head and you know I can’t. We can’t. Imagine what they’ll do to—“ ”To me?” Dean interjected, daring to push himself just a little bit closer. “I know what they’d do. I know, and yet I can’t bring myself to care. You say it's a sin, but you don't believe it. You know you don't, so stop lying to yourself. Let me in Castiel, please, it only hurts because you— you force it away! Let it happen, let me help you, please. I don’t want to hurt you.” Castiel struggled to figure out what to do, tossing the idea of shoving him away and pulling him closer back and forth in his mind. He didn’t want him closer, Dean being closer made him feel hot and flushed, and it made it impossible to think. It made him anxious and scared and somehow so weak he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. Dean being close made him get lost in those eyes and in his own head, planning all the ways the other would probably make him beg. But Dean being away meant Castiel was left to suffer on his own. It meant the thought lingered, it meant he was left with nothing but a sense of pain deep in his chest, something that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he pleaded for forgiveness from God or no matter how many times he touched himself hoping that just one more time might make things go back to normal. “We can’t Dean,” Castiel started quietly, shaking his head, the fear pulling him further and further away. “You know we can’t, it’s a sin.” He fell into a pained whisper, Dean’s expression only becoming more determined. He was tired of pretending like he didn’t care, he was tired of Castiel forcing the truth away. He could make the other understand, he was sure of it. He knew Castiel would listen, he knew because he recognized the way he would watch Dean’s eyes. He knew the way the other cast glances over his shoulder, the way his fingers would linger just a little longer than they were supposed to, and he knew because Castiel still hadn’t let go of his shirt. “Why then?” Dean spoke up, grabbing onto Castiel’s wrist with one hand. “Why is it such a sin? Why does God bid me to love you if it is such a sin? Why does the world turn if not for love? You and I, only exist because of love. Why is ours different? It shouldn’t matter if the world hates our love because it is ours! It’s ours, not theirs Castiel! I shouldn’t care if they strung me up tomorrow for loving you, because even as my neck breaks I would still love you!” Tears were in his eyes, even if he hadn’t meant for them to be there. He wanted to be strong, that’s what this was meant to be, something solid, not shaky. “I will die before I should walk away from you and from this, and if God says our love is a sin, then I curse him. I curse God, and I curse his angels, and I should curse the world before I ever turn my back on you. Do you understand that?” By now his hands were on Castiel’s shoulders, shaking him slightly to prove his point as a single tear slipped down one cheek, and then another on the other. His voice had cracked, trying his best to get through to the other. It wasn’t bad, Dean could feel it in his soul. Castiel was struck into stunned silence, the internal conflict causing more turmoil than he would’ve liked. “I— I understand.” Castiel stammered softly, managing a nod. He couldn’t understand how Dean said everything he wanted to say with such ease, just letting the words fall from his lips like a smooth liquor. He couldn’t get enough, of listening to that voice, letting it soothe him. Dean was right. Who needed the world when the world was standing right in front of him, holding him, begging him to understand? “I understand,” Castiel said again, this time softer, firmer. He did understand. He knew it just the same as Dean did, and that knowledge was what pulled his gaze down to the other’s lips. They had been so soft and gentle, so kind to him. Did he deserve that kindness? Dean made him feel like he did and for a moment he could force that little voice yelling at him down, put the voice crying it was wrong into a box, and shove it somewhere dark and quiet. Dean let out a soft breath, carefully letting go of Castiel’s shoulders to bring one hand to his cheek, holding his face steady, tilting him up just slightly. For a while, they just looked and admired what they’d been missing. Finally, it was at their fingertips and not just imagination. This was real. Castiel let out a gentle breath, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips against Dean’s. Dean didn’t hesitate to kiss back, the hand on Castiel’s cheek shifting to the back of his head, making sure he stayed close as his eyes closed. They pressed together and Castiel moved his hands to Dean’s waist, holding him steady. It felt like months of waiting came crashing down over him all at once, and Dean could feel it against his leg. Not that he was complaining. Dean's other hand moved to the front of Castiel’s shirt, fiddling with the buttons and slowly undoing them as their kiss deepened and he tilted his head to the side to let them be closer. Castiel could’ve stopped breathing, the heat making him want those hands to move much quicker. It was tortuously slow, and it frustrated him. Dean was taking his sweet time, savoring every moment he got to taste the other, every second that their skin was together felt like lightning in his veins. He broke the kiss to watch as he slipped the garment off Castiel’s shoulders, running curious fingers across his skin. It was dusted with light freckles, untouched by work or weather, the softest thing Dean had ever felt. There were no scars, no bruises, no burns or cuts, nothing Dean seemed to sport every few inches. Castiel was beautiful. Dean’s lips connected against his neck, kissing his skin in what could only be described as worship. Castiel felt choked of air, shivers racking up his spine as the other pushed him back until his calves touched the mattress, then pushed him further until his bare back rested against the cool fabric. He couldn’t think, eyes closing as hands ran over his body, guiding him to relax, to trust Dean. Dean was beyond lost, lapping at Castiel’s neck, holding him steady when he whimpered or gave those perfect little shivers. He didn’t know such a drug existed, but listening to the other when he tried to keep quiet might as well have nailed his coffin right shut. It took physical effort to continue, so utterly paralyzed with emotion that he didn’t know how to go slowly. His breath came in heavier and heavier, panting and moaning into his shoulders, down his chest, greedy hands pulling away the rest of his clothes. By now Castiel was trembling, it was hard to stay still when each wet print left a burning cold sensation on his body. He had to stay quiet, nobody could hear them. It would mean death, he knew that. It made him harder than he’d ever been. He struggled and gasped for air, gulping it down between suppressed whines and mumbled apologies for one reason for another. He knew his cries for mercy would fall on deaf ears once more, but as Dean’s lips ran down his navel and his tongue slipped under the band of his underwear he didn’t think it mattered anymore. His fingers threaded into his own hair, trying desperately to avoid reaching down and forcing the other to just do it already. He didn’t know if he could stand this much longer, sitting in this burning heat. Dean was on his knees at the edge of the bed, hands against Castiel’s knees before slipping up his thighs. He was thoroughly enjoying every sound, every little squirm, the way he had to hold Castiel’s legs open. It was amazing, keeping him waiting, watching as he looked away, either too scared or too embarrassed to look down and meet his eyes. Eventually, he didn’t have the heart to tease the other anymore, running cold fingertips along the length of his dick, salivating at the moan it ripped from Castiel’s chest. He was clearly struggling so much, it felt mean to deny it any longer. Dean’s tongue met his tip, taking him down carefully inch after inch, running his tongue up and down. It was like music to his ears, the sounds Castiel was making. It was completely involuntary, but Dean’s other hand slipped beneath his trousers, gripping himself and moving in tandem with his mouth. At some point Castiel had the sense to grab a pillow and bite down, muffling every low moan that fell from his lips before he could bother stopping it. His hand had threaded into Dean’s hair at some point too, but he couldn’t remember that either. All he could think about was the warm, wet feeling of Dean’s mouth all over his cock. It was painful, and the only antidote was the way Dean’s tongue ran along that one little vein. It was beyond addictive, the sound of short breaths growing shorter, soft whines growing higher. His whole body felt as if he were on fire and suspended in heaven all at once. Nothing he’d ever done to himself even came close to this, gripping Dean’s hair and pulling when it felt like too much but all he wanted was more. Dean wasn’t much better, panting against Castiel’s heated flesh, whimpering quietly as he ran a thumb around his own tip. It wasn’t his turn yet, Castiel had to go first, that’s what he’d decided. So he worked harder, going deeper, forcing down the urge to gag, shutting his eyes when his hips jerked into his hand. He had to calm down, but how could he when the most responsive, needy excuse of a man was lying right in front of him, squirming around all because of his tongue? Dean would’ve done this much sooner if he had known Castiel would be arching up like that, his chest rising and falling in quick gasps, his skin dripping with a thin sheen of sweat. Castiel tried to say his name to warn him, but the pillow muffled too much and he couldn’t even think straight. His eyes rolled back, the grip on Dean’s hair tightening to hold him in place as his hips rolled up instinctively. Warm liquid exploded on Dean’s tongue and he was quick to swallow, the hand that wasn’t jerking himself off rubbing against Castiel’s thigh in hopes of communicating it was alright. Castiel felt like he was on another plane of existence, stars exploding in his vision, white-hot tension like a knife cutting up his spine and making it impossible to stay still. After a minute or so of helpless rutting into Dean’s mouth, he managed to catch his breath, the body slowly stilling as he let the pillow fall away from his mouth and panted heavily for air. Dean pulled his mouth away gently, the sensation forcing out one last soft whimper from Castiel’s lips. Dean kisses along his twitching thighs, his hand moving faster, pre acting as his own lubricant. It didn’t take but another minute before he was groaning into Castiel’s skin, a tight feeling causing him to tense before the glass roof shattered and he came. He caught his breath, wiping his dirtied hand against the side of his pant leg. “Are you alright?” Dean asked the other as he stood up and looked down at him. Castiel was a mess. A very attractive mess, one that Dean was sure he’d be fucking again very soon. Castiel just nodded, starting to calm down. Dean waited a moment to be sure before leaving to find a square of fabric and dip it in a bowl of water. It was cold, but it was the most he could do. He came back over, whispering soft phrases to Castiel as he cleaned him up to his best abilities. Once they were both clean and calm exhaustion set in, pulling Dean into bed beside Castiel. These sheets felt so soft against Dean’s body, something he wasn’t quite used to. It felt out of place, but Castiel under his arm didn’t. Years of sleeping on piles of hay and cobblestone had taught him to be grateful for the bare minimum. He pressed his nose against the back of Castiel’s neck, feeling the soft strands of hair against his cheek, smelling the hints of eucalyptus and lavender in whatever lavish soap the other probably used. He wondered how he was this lucky, fingers tracing patterns on Castiel’s side, his mind wandering back to when his mother used to do the same thing for him. He wondered if it brought the same comfort to Castiel. For a man who had sworn he’d never find a home again after being sold away from his own, he sure felt at home right here.

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Banging on the door yanked Castiel from his sleep as he shot up in bed, blinking and trying to clear his vision, rubbing a hand over his face. Dean also woke up, although groggy and very confused as to why the warm body next to him was no longer next to him. “Castiel! Open this door immediately what on Earth do you have this locked for?!” Castiel’s Father, the King, banged on the door a few more times, jiggling the door handle. Castiel gasped, whipping around and shoving Dean off the other side of the bed. Dean shouted in surprise before he hit the ground, pushing himself up and scrambling to find his shirt and coat. Castiel also rushed out of bed, picking up his discarded clothes from the night before and pulling it on as he yelled back. “Just— just a second Father!” ”I said now boy, did you not hear me? You’re late to meet with Miss Lydia!” Dean tripped and knocked into Castiel’s dresser, cursing under his breath and narrowly catching a vase that fell. Castiel nearly shit himself, throwing on his cloak as Dean hurriedly looked around for an escape. “What’s all that ruckus in there? Open this door Castiel!” More banging on the door as Castiel rushed over to it, shaking the door handle. ”It’s stuck, give me a second!” He looked to Dean, his expression urging the other to hurry the fuck up and get out of his room. Dean shrugged back at him, whisper shouting across the room. “Where the fuck am I supposed to go?” ”I don't know! Just— window!” Castiel whisper shouted back, gesturing with his hand— “Castiel! Who are you speaking to?” ”Nobody Father!” Castiel snapped back, shaking the door handle harder to conceal the sound of Dean popping open the window and looking out of it. The ground was at least three stories down, so he grumbled to himself and climbed out onto the thin ledge, his breath growing light as he looked down and used all his strength to grip the small stone ledge, scooting out of view from the window. Castiel let out a sigh of relief when the other was out of sight, opening his door just as his Father went to bang on it again. The King stepped into the room, pushing past Castiel and scanning the room as he shouted at the smaller boy. “You are not to lock that door, how many times must I say it, boy?” He turned around, jabbing a finger into Castiel’s chest. Castiel flinched but he didn’t dare look away. “Do not waste my time. Get ready and be in the meeting room in exactly ten minutes, do you understand me?” Castiel nodded quickly, speaking quietly. “Yes, sir. I apologize—“ “I don't want to hear it.” His Father cut him off, staring daggers into him for another moment before brushing past him and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him with force. Castiel let out a shaky breath once his Father was gone, listening to his footsteps down the hall. He shook his hands out, cursing at the way they still seemed to tremble and shake even though he willed them not to. “I hate your Father,” Dean said from the window, hopping back into the room. Castiel had almost forgotten he was out there, but he shook his head and headed for his dresser, pulling out his nice clothes. “He’s just upset. I shouldn’t have slept so late, now I’ve kept Miss Lydia waiting." ”Miss Lydia,” Dean repeated the name with a bit of a mocking tone, stepping over to a stool nearby and taking a seat, watching Castiel as he changed. “What a proper name for a lady. Do you think she’ll be the right one for you?” ”I think it’d be best if you leave now. That’s enough of a scare for one day.” Castiel commented over his shoulder, still trying to calm his racing heart. He finished buttoning up his new shirt, pulling on his overcoat and then his gloves, checking to make sure his hair was alright in a nearby mirror before hurrying to the door. He left the room before Dean could say another word, leaving the man alone in Castiel’s room. Dean shut his mouth after a moment, sighing and looking at the window again. He didn’t want to have to climb down three stories with nothing but a few inches of ledge to hold onto, but that possibility became increasingly obvious the longer time went on. He couldn’t just waltz out of the room, someone might see him and assume he was a thief, among other things. With a slight frown, he stood and made his way to the window, starting to make his way down. Later that day, Dean was tending to the horses, breaking the layer of ice that had formed over their troughs of water, refilling their food, and making sure there was enough hay to keep them warm. His cheeks and nose were red, breath coming in puffs of air in front of him as he worked. He didn’t mind the cold so much, it only bothered him when it started to slow him down and make his fingers numb, as it had started to do now. He paused his work, standing up straight and dropping the bundle of hay he held under his arm, bringing his hands to his face and blowing hot air into them, rubbing them together to try and get them working properly again. Dean thought of starting a fire, stargazing, maybe counting up his savings. Anything that kept his mind off his circumstances. Maybe he could run away, with Castiel of course. He didn’t know if he would be able to convince the other to do something like that, but he had a small bit of hope. Maybe they could go somewhere far away where nobody would find them, and live a small life somewhere on the coast. He imagined what life would be like on the rocky seashore, teaching Castiel how to fish, hunt, playing the small lute Dean would buy for him on the nights when it was too cold to be outside. In his mind, it was peaceful and lonely and perfect, just the way he wanted it. A horse trying to nibble at his cloak hood pulled him away from this fantasy, although he didn’t mind much. “I guess you can come to Tess,” Dean comments mostly to himself as he turns and pets the horse’s neck, running his hands through her mane. Logically he knew Tess probably didn’t understand what Dean meant, but it felt wrong to leave her out. “What would you do if you were me?” He asks Tess as he takes her reins and starts leading her back to the box stall she’d managed to break out of. “He’s got a whole life going for him here.” Dean sighed, pulling off Tess’s saddle and hanging it against the wall. “Is it right for me to pull him away from all of it? Especially since it's all so…” He waved his hand to gesture, trying to find a proper description. “Rich. I suppose. I mean, Tess, he’s a prince.” He chuckled, a bit of a warm feeling rising in his chest as he thought about all the things Castiel was. “And I’m— I'm talking to a horse. For advice.” Dean took an apple from his pocket, holding it out to Tess and running his free hand down her muzzle as she ate it from his palm. The apple was meant for him, but he didn’t mind giving it to Tess. He thought she probably needed it more than he did in the winter. “I bet being a horse is a lot easier than being human,” Dean mumbled to himself, watching as Tess left once she no longer had food or a reason to need Dean. It felt strangely familiar. With another sigh he turned and left the room, making sure the gate was locked this time before leaving the stables altogether. He made his way to his sanctioned pile of hay, plopping down and leaning back, getting as comfortable as he could. His gaze shifted to the sky above him, filled with so many bright stars someone might’ve guessed it was daytime. An entire universe filled with possibilities, and he ended up here. It almost felt cruel, being something so small. It was moments like these that Dean wondered if God even existed. If he did, he certainly wasn’t a kind being like the stories said. Why would God punish anyone with an existence like this? It didn’t feel like a good way to live. He couldn’t mention this to anyone else, of course, they’d think he was a demon or something of the sort. He felt guilty even having such doubts, and he hoped that if God did exist he would forgive him. Days turned to weeks, the cold air began to warm, and the two men tried their best to spend as much time together as possible. It was difficult to sneak around and most of their nights together ended with Dean having to climb out of Castiel’s window again. Despite all the hardships and secrets, Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. He wanted to spend every moment with Castiel, and Castiel didn’t feel all too differently himself. Dean was new and spontaneous and so different from all the rules and regulations and manners he’d been so sure was the only way to live. Dean was rough and wild and interesting, and he didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything. Castiel wished he could have that for himself, and the more time he spent with Dean, the more he felt like maybe he could. Dean made him a better person, and he truly believed. Another feeling that came the more time they spent together was curiosity about what life was like outside of the castle walls. Castiel knew that Dean went into the surrounding city sometimes, either for errands or for enjoyment it didn’t matter. Castiel wanted to know what life was like for the majority, for people like Dean. For people that weren’t, well, him. ”What’s the city like?" Castiel was walking along a path in the forest, absently twisting wildflowers into a crown. Dean was there too, walking beside the other and finding the nicest flowers that he then supplied to the other. When Castiel spoke Dean hummed, trying to find a proper way to describe Narran. "Loud. Dirty. There’s always an odd scent in the air.” Castiel frowned a bit. That didn’t line up with his thoughts about Narran. He’d imagined it as a place of wonder like in the books he read occasionally. People milling about everywhere, children running through the streets, playing with one another. When Castiel thought of the city, he thought of magic vendors and street food. ”That doesn’t sound very pleasant.” Dean cracked a smile, shaking his head and bending down to pick a dandelion. When Dean thought of Narran, he thought of people begging on the streets, people with their cloak hoods pulled up far enough to cover their faces, and he thought of more than enough drunk people falling over themselves in the taverns. Sure Dean had some friends and connections within the city, but he enjoyed the quieter life he had here working in the castle more than seeing the impoverished in the heart of the city. “It’s not all terrible, but I prefer being here.” Dean handed the dandelion to Castiel, who accepted it and began winding it into the crown. “With you.” He added that last part and watched as a light pink color rose to Castiel’s cheeks and he tried to force away the little smile on his face. Despite Dean’s explanation, Castiel still wanted to see the city for himself. After a few minutes of walking in silence along the trail, listening to the birds chirping, he spoke up again. “Why don’t you take me sometime?” Dean glanced over at the other, slightly surprised by the request. It didn’t make sense to him why Castiel would ever want to leave his room, he had everything. Clothes, a warm bed, endless food and drink, and the ability to have anyone he wanted in his bed. Still, he nodded, fumbling for an answer after a few images flashed through his mind for the latter reasons. “Yes, I suppose I could.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

That was how Castiel ended up sneaking out of his window in the late hours of the night, dressed in what he thought were his worst clothes. He wanted to blend in after all, since drawing attention to himself would be counterproductive. Dean had already been a little nervous since they hadn’t put a ton of planning into the outing and the chances of getting caught were fairly high. It was risky, and that worried him. Castiel peeked through the cracked stable door, pushing it open as quietly as he could. Dean perked up when he heard the telltale creak of the wood, pushing himself away from the opposite wall and walking over, glancing over Castiel’s chosen outfit. ”You don’t look dirty enough.” Dean said with a bit of a hum, placing a hand against his hip and looking around. Castiel was a little confused, looking down at his barely tattered drapes. “There,” Dean pointed across the stable to a puddle of dirty water and mud. “go roll around in that for a bit.” ”You’re not serious.” Castiel scoffed a small laugh, his expression twisting into disgust. No way in hell he was rolling around in a pile of mud and horse shit. Dean slowly turned back to him, raising a brow and putting both hands on his hips in a rather cocky fashion. “Did you plan on announcing your royalty when we waltzed into town too, or were there other plans? Because you’ve practically already done it wearing that.” Castiel placed a defensive hand over his chest, huffing. “There’s no need to be rude, you know. Couldn’t I just borrow some of your clothes? I’m sure you’ve done enough rolling around in the mud for both of us.” Dean rolled his eyes, scoffing in amusement. “And you’re calling me the rude one? No! You can’t borrow my clothes, especially not after that remark. Besides, I’m much bigger than you are. They probably wouldn’t fit anyways.” “That’s ridiculous, you’re not much bigger than me at all! You’re only, what, three inches taller than I am? Maybe four?” ”I meant wider, I’ve got broader shoulders.” “Oh, I’m sure. But— Who cares if they’re a bit baggy? If anything I think it would add—“ Dean cut him off with a groan, rubbing his hands down his face and stepping over to push Castiel toward the puddle. “Listen, you’ll see and smell much worse than this if we go into the city. Consider this training, alright? We don’t go anywhere unless you make like a pig and start rolling.” Castiel glared at him for a few moments, his lips downturned into an almost childish frown. When Dean didn’t let up and even shrugged toward the puddle again, Castiel sighed heavily and walked up to the edge. Looking down he could barely see the reflection of his figure in the dirty water, mud and shit and grass or whatever else might be in there making him grimace. Dean waited patiently, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure nobody else was around. Eventually, Castiel held his breath and jumped in, splashing a few times to dirty up his boots. Dean cracked a smile, both amused at just how horrified Castiel’s face was, but also seeing the other go to such lengths all for curiosity. He’d underestimated him and it was a pleasant surprise to be proven wrong. After plenty of jumping and rolling, Castiel was coated in mud and soaked. He’d done his best to prevent any from getting on his face or in his hair though, so when he begrudgingly walked back over to Dean, Dean ran his hand down the front of Castiel’s shirt and wiped it across his cheek. Castiel, now covered in muck, let out a slow breath and ignored the sticky feeling against his face. ”There.” He huffed quietly, throwing his hands to the side and gesturing down at himself. “Can we go now?” Dean smiled smugly, looking him up and down and even circling the exasperated man before giving an approving nod. “Sure, we can go.” Narran wasn’t too far of a ride, maybe only ten or twenty minutes since they went a back way into town to try and avoid being seen coming or going directly from the castle. Narran itself was just one city in the reach of the Tirise kingdom. Since it was the capital, there were both the impressively rich and the impressively poor. Narran held winding roads built from stone, huts, and tents pitched up anywhere they could fit between the towering buildings. They were feats of engineering at the time, pillars of limestone and quartz lining places of importance, engravings found in almost every piece of wood around each door frame and each window. It was a sign of respect and a way to recognize who lived there, the more elaborate the designs, the higher the respect. Artistry was something to be renowned in Narran, with schools and universities on every corner, almost nearly as often as a shop or tavern. Aside from Narran’s impressive architecture, it was known for its natural wall of protection, the Northern Mountains. Serith’s Peak was coated with snow all times of the year, catching the light of the moon so even from in the heart of the city it was always visible. This was the first time Castiel had ever been into the city, so everything drew his attention. The lanterns hung on every post and from every balcony, the drapes creating a high ceiling and casting colorful shadows that danced across the ground. The scent of cooking meat was everywhere, vendors shouting this or that about their product, the occasional child running through the crowd and trying to sneak their hands into the pockets of any unlucky passerby. It was perfect, and more than anything Castiel could’ve hoped for. Dean enjoyed seeing Castiel’s eyes wide with wonder and amazement, but he made sure to keep a hand on the other since he didn’t want him getting lost in the crowd. ”Here, for you.” One of the vendors grabbed onto Castiel’s wrist, smiling widely and tying a bracelet around it. Castiel grinned, his heart warmed by this old lady offering him a gift.“Oh, no, that’s alright.” Dean stepped in, trying to pull Castiel away but he refused, giving Dean a look to let him know it was alright. Dean of course knew about scams like this, but Castiel had no idea he was about to be cheated out of twenty nicks. The older woman smiled brightly at Castiel, ratty graying hair pulled into a bun as she finished the knot and took his hand gently. Dean, although still wary, let his hand fall away from Castiel’s arm, quietly observing the interaction. “Your eyes are very kind, sir.” Castiel felt a swell of warmth and pride in his chest at this stranger’s words, bowing his head politely to acknowledge the comment. The woman took in a shaky breath, patting his hand again as her eyes glazed over a bit. Magic wasn’t common, but individuals with the power to see things beyond the physical existed, although most lived in hiding for fear of what society might do if they were discovered. It was frowned upon greatly in this era, but before Narran was built, magic ruled these lands. Nomads roamed the forests, building great temples that rivaled that of the current architecture and living high up in the treetops in mazes of ropes and houses. They lived one with the Earth, and in turn, the Earth gave them life.  People with such a gift were considered touched by the Gods themselves, sacred and renowned. It meant a great deal to have a Seer in the family bloodline, and to marry into a Seer family meant a great deal more. Eventually though, as all good things do, their way of life was destroyed in one of the longest and bloodiest conflicts in their history. Their homes in the trees were burnt to the ground, temples torn down to weaken their spirit. Out of the ashes, Tirise rose and brought so-called peace to the land in the form of silence. Narran was built, and the native populations were slowly choked out. Now Seers were reduced to this, beggars running beat-down shops and scamming people off the street for a strange riddle to decipher their future. Castiel was mesmerized, watching her with great interest, taking in her words when she spoke again. “You’re a good man, your heart is filled with love. Beware though, for this very love will kill you if you let it. Love is a powerful tool child, it will cut you just as deeply as the blade; you must be careful, this world is cruel.” Dean took Castiel’s arm again, muttering thanks to the woman before pulling Castiel away. Castiel protested some, but when he turned to try and apologize to the woman, she was already gone. He faltered for a moment, but Dean was still walking and pulling him along, so he didn’t have much time to ponder the strange occurrence before they were off. “That was strange.” Castiel comments as he falls into step beside Dean, holding up his wrist to observe the bracelet he’d been gifted. It was made of some kind of string, dull strands woven together in a circular braid and then tied so it couldn’t be removed without cutting it off. “What do you think she meant?” Dean didn’t have a good feeling about whatever that old woman had meant, an anxious feeling pooling in his stomach and making him want to look over his shoulder every few seconds just to make sure they weren’t being followed. ”I don’t know, but I don’t have a good feeling about it.” Dean responded as he pulled the other away from yet another vendor trying to scam him. Castiel was equally as frustrated as last time, utterly oblivious to the thought that someone might have bad intentions. ”Dean, why are you so upset? Everyone is so kind, surely we could stop and listen to one of them for a bit.”He sighed, pulling Castiel away from the main crowd and into a darkened alley so they could have some privacy. ”Castiel, these people are not your friends. I swear, you’ve already lost your bag.” Castiel immediately patted his side, looking down and letting out a soft sigh of disappointment when his small bag of coins was missing. Dean gave him a sympathetic expression, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “Listen, they seem very friendly, but they’re only in it for your money. It’s best to just keep moving and ignore them; and keep a good hand on whatever money you do have, alright?” Castiel nodded, making a mental note to try and be more harsh, like Dean. Dean nodded back, smiling and leaning in to press a kiss to Castiel’s clean cheek before heading for the street again, expecting the other to follow. Castiel felt warm inside at the kiss, a smile burning onto his features as he hurried behind Dean, making sure to see more uninterested this time. The two spent hours exploring the streets, buying only the occasional snack or drink to share and avoiding any more strange experiences like the one with the lady. Eventually, Dean managed to pull Castiel away from the streets, and into a tavern filled to the brim with drinking and dancing and arguably some of the foulest scents in the city. Castiel was opposed at first, but after a drink or two, he was having just as great of a time as anyone else. He laughed loudly, stumbling over his feet into Dean’s side, barely catching himself before he fell over. Dean hadn’t expected him to have this strong of a reaction, but this must’ve been Castiel’s first time drinking something so hard. ”Another!” Castiel shouted as he raised his glass, bumping into a few other people at the bar before Dean quickly took the empty glass from his hands, pulling him away from the other people. “No! No, no more for you. I think you’ve had more than enough for tonight.” ”But Dean- hic It’s my first night in the city.” Castiel tried his best to bat his lashes at the other, swaying and holding onto him to stay upright. “C’mon, let me have a bit of fun, I’m the Prince after all—“ ”No, you’re not the Prince. Not tonight, remember? We talked about this, you can’t say that.” Dean gave him a small shake, hoping to pull him to his senses before leading him into a fairly empty hallway where the stairs that went up to the rooms were. “Cas, you’ve got to keep quiet. Nobody can know, you understand that don’t you?” He shook the other again, getting him to at least focus on Dean’s face now. “People will hurt you if they know you’re the Prince, alright? You mustn’t be so reckless with your words, my love.” Castiel was listening, but only barely, until those last words drew his attention back, making him giggle softly. Dean sighed, regretting his decision to allow Castiel to drink at all. Still, looking at that reddened face, hearing that warm sound from his chest, Dean couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Eventually, he let up, taking Castiel’s hand and starting to weasel his way to the exit. It was already very late in the night, and they really should be getting back to the castle, especially if they wanted to sneak back in unnoticed. Dean managed to pull Castiel away from the crowd and out of the tavern, back through the city, and into the stable where he’d kept their horse without much difficulty. The problem now was getting a very drunk Castiel onto said horse, and then keeping him on the whole ride home. Several failed attempts later, Dean hauled Castiel up with him, seating him in front so Dean could keep an arm around him and prevent him from passing out and falling off. Castiel wasn’t against the plan at all, mostly because he couldn’t see straight anyway, but also because now he got to be pressed up against Dean’s body. The next thing Castiel remembered was being carried, brief glimpses of sight now and then through his foggy mind. He rested his head against Dean’s shoulder, mumbling something incoherent. ”You’ve got to be quiet, love.” Dean whispered to the barely conscious man in his arms, trying to make as little noise as possible crunching his way up the gravel to the side door closest to Castiel’s room. Getting inside and back to his room was risky, and it was now that he was really starting to regret letting Castiel drink. He couldn’t tell if Castiel heard him or not, but he didn’t make any further noise aside from a gentle hiccup now and then, so he continued. Dean struggled to get the door open with Castiel in his arms, barely managing it and shutting the door quietly with his heel once they were inside. Something about that old woman from the beginning of the night had stuck with him, and now her words seemed to rattle around in his mind, distracting him and making him sweat. Dean had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling that made him feel chilly. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, racing through every possibility of what might happen if they were caught. That couldn’t happen, he couldn’t let it. No, they were supposed to run away together and live in a cottage on the coast. Dean couldn’t be caught because then who would take care of Castiel when he got drunk again? These thoughts fueled him, forcing one careful step after the next, double-checking around every corner, holding his breath at the very hint that someone else might be around. Luckily it was so late, almost nobody was around. The only person he saw was a single guard walking down the hall, but since they were hidden behind a large bundle of curtains they weren’t noticed. After what might’ve been the most stressful ten minutes of his life, Dean made it back to Castiel’s room, opening the door and shutting it silently behind them. He let out a heavy sigh of relief, tension releasing from his shoulders. He walked Castiel to the bed and set him down, shushing him when he tried to wake. Castiel whined at being so rudely awoken as he was laid back, cracking his eyes open but closing them when he remembered it was only Dean. Dean went to the buttons on Castiel’s shirt, undoing them and helping the other pull it off. He tossed it to the side, dropping to a knee to undo the buckles on his boots and pull those off as well. Castiel yawned, humming the tune being played at the tavern softly to himself as Dean tugged off his dirty pants. Once Castiel was no longer in clothes covered in mud, Dean sighed and helped move the other to his proper place in bed, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders and brushing his hair out of his face. Castiel cracked an eye open, smiling warmly when he saw Dean. ”Dean…” Dean just nodded, cupping Castiel’s face and rubbing his thumb across his cheek. He was so pretty, even prettier under the moonlight coming through the window. Those blue eyes, he’d never get tired of them. It hurt to know that in the end, they would probably end up in someone else’s view, someone who wasn’t him. Castiel wasn’t meant to be with Dean, he knew that much, but he liked to pretend they were built for each other in moments like these. Why else would Castiel’s face fit perfectly in the curve of his hand? ”I love you.” Dean whispered it as quietly as he could, almost worried if he said it too loud it might somehow break everything. Castiel was so lost just staring into Dean’s gaze, he didn’t even hear the gentle words, but he did feel the kiss that followed them. It was soft and sweet and everything he could’ve ever asked for. He wished for a world they wouldn't have to hide in, for a place they might be able to just exist, somewhere he could have this wonderful feeling every night without wondering if someone outside might hear them. Eventually, though he pulled away, like always, mumbling something or other about making sure to have a drink of water tomorrow morning, but Castiel wasn’t listening, just imagining that perfect world as he drifted into a heavy sleep.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Three weeks had passed since their excursion to the city, and nearly every day since that time Castiel had been busy with some kind of royal work that prevented the two from seeing each other. The only thing Dean had to work with was the searing memory of finding the chance to shove the other in a towel closet just a few days ago, but those embers seemed to burn strong in the back of his mind. It kept his mind away from the stinging pain in his hands from working at repairs on the barn roof all day. He had a bad habit of letting his thoughts wander, only to be brought sharply back to the present when the hammer missed the nail in favor of his fingertips, or when his foot slipped on the moisture gathered on the rungs of the ladder and for a moment his heart sank to his stomach.He really should be more careful.This spring had been a particularly humid one, and Dean didn’t mind the humidity so much as he minded the heat. Humidity, he could handle, but the mixture of stifling heat and a sticky fog that seemed to linger everywhere over the kingdom made him more depressed than he would’ve liked to admit. The water in the air reminded him of home back on the coast. On days when there was a breeze he could almost fool himself into thinking maybe it was a salty mist hitting his cheeks.As much as he hated his life before this, he found himself missing it more and more each day. He missed the quiet days when he could wander along the coastline, wading ankle-deep in ocean water, catching the occasional fish. His younger brother Sam would be there too, trodding along beside him, carrying a basket far too big for his little hands, rambling about one thing or another he read in a book off Dad’s shelf. He wasn’t supposed to touch them, but Dean never told their Father and their Father was so drunk he usually never knew the difference. It had been a struggle between their Father and Mother, and the constant need for just a bit more money, but Dean always tried his hardest to make Sam’s life a little more enjoyable. He took the swings from a drunken fist when they came, shoving Sam away into a cupboard and telling him not to come out until Dean came and got him. When Dean was thirteen their Mother fell ill and died soon after, not a week after that and their Father packed a bag and left without ever looking back, leaving Dean to care for his younger brother Sam without a penny in his pocket. Dean had carried what he could on his back, took Sam, and walked them into the nearest city to find a job. Dean worked what he could, gathering his savings, spending only what was necessary, and eventually paying for the fare to send Sam to school.The ship went down two days into the voyage, leaving no survivors. Pirates had attacked, and poor Sam had drowned somewhere off the eastern border of the neighboring country, Caspan. Dean had been left with nothing once again, this time true alone. Now sixteen, orphaned, and with no known relatives to take him in, Dean packed his small life up once more and hid in the next carriage heading through town. He didn’t much care where he went, as long as he was away from everything that had hurt him.That’s how Dean had ended up in Narran, working as a smuggler for a friend or two until he grew to be too large to get the job done without being seen. Once his body had been built into a statue of muscle and tanned skin he moved to the forest, cutting down trees, lugging them into town, and selling the firewood to businesses all around. Eventually, an opening for a farmhand opened at the castle, and Dean was interested purely by the fact that it meant meals and a roof over his head for two cents higher pay. Now twenty-three, stronger, and more determined than ever to leave, he found himself more tied down than ever. He couldn’t leave without Castiel, not now, not after everything they’d built together, but by god he couldn’t stand to stay anymore. Every evening when he made his way back to the small corner of the barn he called his bed he pulled out the tin of savings he kept hidden behind a loose board and counted his change. It was enough for himself, sure, but not nearly enough for two. For safe passage, with someone so valuable as Castiel, he would need to work for another year, maybe two. Even then, no amount of money would guarantee their safety.Dean was stuck, but still, his heart was determined to make it out. He planned in his free time, inconspicuously walking along the castle walls, seeing which guards looked where finding the weak points and gaps in their shifts where he might sneak out unnoticed. He couldn’t do much surveillance within the castle walls, but whatever he could find, he noted. After these past few weeks, he had managed to hash together a plan that might work, but that might have been the smallest chance he’d ever had for anything in his life. He needed to see Castiel. Castiel had been so deep in papers and legal work that he could hardly focus on anything but the lengthy documents that only seemed to pile up on his desk with each passing hour. He barely found the time to eat, much less see Dean aside from their moments in passing when he and his Father walked through the garden. His Father must’ve noticed the amount of time Castiel spent outside, away from his studies, and now he’d decided to redirect the boy to the more “important matters” of his life. Learning to become a diplomat, the proper way of speaking, of walking, the correct way to hold his cup when he drank from it, all the things that Castiel had begun to despise. It was tedious, frustrating work that often left him with red welts across the back of his hands and arms for any wrong answer he gave to his tutors.He was making plans of his own, gazing out the window and wondering what he would do with his life if he wasn’t cooped up here in his room. He wanted to go into the city again, he wanted to stay there amongst the people.Without a knock, his chamber door opened, startling him and making him turn away from the window to see who’d just burst in. It was his Father, standing with his Mother just behind him.“Yes, Father?”Castiel spoke up almost hesitantly, standing from his position perched on the window ledge, straightening out the front of his shirt. He hadn’t done anything wrong, or so he remembered, and he doubted his Father had an assignment for him so late in the evening. It was confusing, and a bit worrying. His Father took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he took another step into the room and shut the door. Mother stepped to the small bench at the foot of Castiel’s bed, took a seat, and placed her hands politely in her lap.”You’re going off for a bit.” The King said in a quiet but commanding tone, leaving no room for confusion or argument. “You’ve been distracted, and I can’t have your mind anywhere else. Not now. We’re on the cusp of your crowning Castiel.” Castiel felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.“What do you mean? Father I’ve kept up with all my studies, I’ve—“”That’s enough.” His father cut him off, raising a hand to signal for the other to be quiet. “The decision has already been made. You’ll be going in a week. Pack your things.”With that, his Father turned to leave, but Castiel, still shocked to his core, almost jumped forward as he spoke again.”But Father, where am I even going? I’ll study more, I’ll— I’ll pay more attention in the meetings, I swear to it. Please, I want to stay.”His Father didn’t listen, ignoring his pleas and walking swiftly out the door almost as quickly as he’d entered. Castiel’s Mother still sat on the bench, watching him with a saddened look. She’d miss him dearly, she was sure, but her husband had decided this was best for their boy. Castiel turned to her, giving her a look of confusion and hurt.”You’re just going to let him send me away?”She sighed, tearing her gaze away and slowly standing.”It’s for the best dear, besides, your Father’s right. Your mind isn’t here with us anymore. You just need some readjustments, that’s all. You’ll be back to normal and you can come home before you even know you left!”Castiel scoffed, pulling his shoulder away when she tried to place a hand on it. He was angry, rightfully so, fleeing his room before she could say another word to him. He ran through the halls, bumping into the occasional servant carrying armfuls of supplies, mumbling quick apologies to them and shoving his tears back down. He needed to tell Dean. He needed to see Dean. Castiel burst through the barn doors, startling Dean, who quickly perked his head up at the new introduction. “What’s happened?” Dean asked after a moment, pushing himself up and growing concerned as Castiel began to breathe shakily before a soft sob left his lips and a tear or two streaked down his cheek.“He’s sending me off,” Castiel choked out, putting his hands on his knees and nearly collapsing over. “My Father, he’s sending me off, he hasn’t told me where.”Dean stood now, carefully stepping over to Castiel and setting a hand on his shoulder, letting the other stand just enough to fall into his arms and cry into his shoulder. Dean held him fast, turning a nose into his hair, trying to memorize the sickeningly sweet scent Castiel seemed to have.“No,” Dean said quietly, but there was a certain form of determination in his voice that made Castiel believe he wouldn't let it happen. Dean held him a bit tighter, placing his hand on the back of Castiel’s head. “We’re going to get out. You and I, together. I won’t let them take someone else away from me.” ”But…” Castiel sniffed and pulled back just slightly, meeting the other’s eye. “How? I’ve been thinking about it too, but we just couldn’t… sneak away. We’d be caught. They’d hurt you.””No, we won’t be caught. I’ve made a plan, I can be ready in two days.”Dean responded quickly, maybe overestimating just how well he thought he could execute this plan, but Castiel was going away in a week and there wasn’t any guarantee when he would be back. It had been nearly two years since they’d first met, plenty of small scares had come and gone, but now was their chance. They’d finally get to live the life they wanted.“Are you sure?”Dean hesitated. Was he sure? Truthfully, no, he wasn’t sure he was sure something would go wrong. There was a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach, but seeing tears in the corners of Castiel’s eyes tore away any semblance of giving up. He had to get out, and he had to take Castiel with him. He brought his hand to Castiel’s cheek, rubbing his thumb below his eye and wiping away the wet tears.“I’m sure.”Dean sealed his promise with a soft kiss before pulling Castiel into a strong hug again. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his younger brother, but he refused to lose his lover.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dean stuffed stolen goods into a bag, mentally tallying up what he had and what he still needed. He could probably make a quick run into Narran to gather whatever he’d forgotten. Since he’d promised to run away with Castiel he hadn’t slept, he couldn’t, not with all the dizzying information running through his mind at any given moment. He’d planned as much as he could, but now all he could do was pray that everything would work out in his favor. Dean wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait.Castiel was in a similar position, stuck pacing in his room, packing a secrecy bag aside from the one he packed to convince his parents he was planning to leave in a week as they’d told him he would. They didn’t know that he planned on leaving much sooner, and he planned on keeping it that way. He was nervous, but beyond that he was excited. There was a feeling in his chest he couldn’t recall ever having before, one that made him feel lightheaded and made it hard to breathe. He wanted to bust through the doors already, he wanted to run as far and as fast as he could, he wanted to do something to expel the energy that only seemed to be growing in his very bones. For the first time in his life, he had real hope. Something that had started as a small spark had lit something much greater, something that set his soul burning so hot he wasn’t sure if he could contain it. Anger surged that fire, focus channeled it, and love pushed him forward. They were going to get out. He was sure of it. That evening Castiel waited at his window, watching the sun slip slowly past the horizon, observing as the moon and stars grew brighter, gazing out into the universe. All those galaxies and planets out there, and everything that had ever happened, was leading up to this moment. This night. Castiel felt held, he felt safe, he knew that God was out there, and he had a plan. He trusted God. His God would love him no matter what happened, no matter who he was. He had faith.Dean felt similarly, as shocking as that was to himself. He found himself on his knees in the barn, giving a final prayer before he set off. Dean had given up on God months ago, straying further and further from the supposed man in the sky until all he felt was a strange mix of longing and satisfaction. He longed to have that kind of connection again, but being free from it had saved him. He wasn’t ashamed anymore. He didn’t plead with God at night to tell him what was wrong with him anymore. In a way, Castiel had become his God. If Dean didn’t know any better, he would’ve preached to the world that Castiel was an angel sent straight from heaven. The plan was simple enough, at eight in the evening the guards in the far eastern corner of the wall switched shifts, and there was a few minutes of space where the wall and doors were unguarded. During that small amount of time, Dean and Castiel would meet halfway, in the portion of the gardens where the trees shielded them from view, and sneak through the gate. After they managed to leave the castle walls unnoticed, they’d hurry into Narran and board the next vessel leaving from the docks, slipping out before anyone even noticed they were gone. It didn’t matter where they went, as long as they were together. Dean had enough money to give them a few days of travel and food, and depending on where they ended up he was sure he could find a way to get some income. After a while, they would stop searching for Castiel, but he would need to be hidden from public view for quite some time, Dean was sure of that. The only problem would be his eyes, those pretty blue ones Dean loved so much, they were only found in royal bloodlines. Selective breeding within the children of kingdoms and countries for many generations ensured the trait was kept sacred. It was a sign of status, and it wasn’t easily hidden. Keeping Castiel safe was an issue they’d face, but Dean hadn’t thought too much about that just yet.The task at hand was to get out. Now. Twenty minutes past sunset Castiel pulled on his cloak, flipped up the hood, and glanced in the mirror to make sure he looked covered enough. His backpack made a bit of a strange lump on his back, but he figured it might help him blend into the crowd down at the docks. It was dark outside by now, and the dark blue fabric of his cloak would help him melt in seamlessly. If all went well, he’d be waking up tomorrow morning a free man. The thought made his chest flutter. Castiel was going to be free.He climbed down the wall from his window, struggling to keep a steady grip on the thin ledge, nearly slipping a few times, but eventually making it down safely. It was hard to be quiet, his boots crunching on the gravel no matter how lightly he stepped. Nobody had noticed him so far, and he intended to keep it that way. It had dropped significantly in temperature tonight, enough that he could see his breath puff up around him. It had been a year since the two met in the forest, nearly down to the day. Castiel only remembered dreaming of the day he might get something like this, yet here it was and all he could do was try not to shake.Castiel pushed aside a branch and stepped into the clearing where they’d agreed to meet. Dean wasn’t there yet. Castiel felt a bit of anxiety pool in his stomach. Has something gone wrong? Was Dean already caught? Was it all useless? ”Cas.”Dean moved to Castiel’s side, setting a hand on his arm and watching as Castiel relaxed.”I was worried for a second.”Dean shook his head, also shivering gently in the freezing breeze.”Everything’s fine. Come along, we haven’t got much time.”Castiel didn’t argue when Dean tugged on his sleeve, pulling him along. They fell into step beside each other, their soft breathing synchronized as their hands came together and held on as if they’d be ripped apart at any second. It wasn’t a long walk to the eastern border, but Dean would rather be a bit early than be late and have to rush. He wanted this to work out—no—he needed this to work out. The two crouched down behind some bushes, watching the guards mill about atop the wall and on either side of the gate. Dean was counting in his mind, every second, just waiting for them to switch. They had maybe three minutes to run down to the gate, get outside, and get as far away as they could, as fast as they could. Castiel had been into the forest before, so Dean wasn’t too worried.“Dean,” Castiel whispered to the other, bringing up a hand to turn his face. Dean was still nervous, and trying to focus, but when Castiel kissed him it started flowing away. The tension in his body lessened, his mind cleared, and he felt more stable. After Castiel pulled away he let out a small breath, opening his eyes and giving the other a nod.”We’ll be alright.”With that, Dean grasped Castiel’s hand and led them away from the bushes, hurrying silently down to the gate. For the next three minutes, nobody but them would be here. Dean set to work opening the lock on the gate with the stolen key he took from his pocket while Castiel glanced around, keeping watch, just in case. Nervous seconds passed before the lock clicked open and Dean tossed it aside, pushing open the large wooden door and wincing when it creaked. He ushered Castiel through, pushing on the door with all his strength to shut it again. “Let’s go, before anyone—“ Castiel started in a whisper, taking Dean’s arm as the other walked up to him.”You there!”A deep voice shouted from the top of the wall, the moonlight catching the metal armor on the King’s guard. Castiel felt his stomach drop, looking up at the guard only for a second before Dean shouted something and he was being pulled along. He stumbled for a moment, regaining his balance and running as fast as his legs could go. He could hear more yelling and the gate opening behind him, but those sounds slowly faded.Dean was breathing heavily now, one hand gripped so tightly on Castiel’s arm it might’ve bruised. He glanced over his shoulder often, forcing his legs to carry him just a little bit faster every time he caught a glimpse of that bright metal. They might make it, but they have to get off this trail.“Hurry, go!”Dean said as loudly as he dared, guiding Castiel off the worn trail and through the brush of the forest now. It was dark and either of them could barely see, thorns and branches whipping at their face and arms and making it difficult to continue. Almost before he could even process there was a root above ground, Castiel’s ankle caught on the exposed wood. He tripped, falling before Dean could catch him, and hitting the ground hard enough to knock all the wind out of him. At the moment Castiel didn’t feel it, but both he and Dean had heard the sickening crack of a bone snapping in half.Stars and tears exploded in Castiel’s vision, a sharp cry of pain forcing itself from his throat despite how desperately he tried to keep quiet. His arm felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t even move his ankle.“Fuck, you’re alright.” Dean dropped down to his knees, helping Castiel rollover. Castiel was hyperventilating, tears streaming down his face, jaw clenched tightly, and whimpers taking the place of pained screaming. Dean almost didn’t want to look, but when he glanced down at Castiel’s left arm, he knew this was bad. His arm was bent, maybe 45 degrees, and in the dark, he couldn't tell if it was bruising already but he knew this was serious.“Shh, it’s alright, it’ll be alright.” Dean brought a hand to Castiel’s face, cupping his cheek and trying to get him to quiet down. Castiel couldn’t stop sobbing. This was worse than anything he’d ever experienced, a kind of pain that radiated through his entire arm and made everything feel sharp and numb at the same time.“We have to keep going,” Dean says in a hushed but hurried tone, scooping an arm under Castiel’s back when he begins to hear voices approaching.“No, Dean, you can’t.” Castiel hiccuped, struggling to get the words out through his dizzy head. “Just go, just run. They won’t hurt me, you have to go.””I’m not leaving you.”Dean’s voice was filled with the kind of finality that Castiel just couldn’t argue with, the kind that made him turn his face into Dean’s shoulder and bite down to keep from crying out any louder than he already was. The bone hadn’t broken skin, so Dean knew Castiel would be okay for a little bit longer at least. “There!”The guards had caught up already. Dean could see the light from their lanterns peeking through the treeline, but he didn’t stick around much longer. He took off as fast as he could, slower since he was now carrying Castiel in his arms. His legs burned, his arms burned, his whole body felt like it might give out at any second, but he kept running. At some point Castiel had passed out, becoming dead weight, but the only thing Dean could think about was getting out. They had to get out. They had to board that ferry, to go and build a house somewhere quiet where they’d be left alone. They had to be able to share dinner and fall asleep in each other’s arms. He had to be able to feel Castiel’s warm skin against his, feel his breath pick up, and see every little change in his expression.All that and more was what pushed Dean forward, but the forest only grew darker, and when he finally burst through the treeline he was met with an entire troupe of guards. Dean panted heavily for air, staggering back a step, on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.”You’re surrounded.”The front guard with the shiny gold shoulder panel stated, stepping forward to signal his authority.“Unhand the Prince, now.”Dean watched the man’s eyes, reading his expression, looking around at the others there, and thinking about his choices. What would happen to Castiel? If they knew that Castiel had run away, with another man no less, what might they do to him? Dean could handle whatever punishment came with this, but his Cas couldn’t, and he knew that.“Unhand him, now! I won’t say it again!”The guard screamed at him this time, the men behind him taking a step forward and each placing a hand on the sheaths at their hips. The noise woke Castiel, who was bleary-eyed and still riddled with pain. He didn’t fully understand the situation at first, moaning softly when his arm shifted and sent sparks of pain up his body again. All the guards were on edge now, wondering what Dean did to their Prince. Carefully, Dean set Castiel down, laying him gently on the ground and pressing a kiss to his forehead before pushing himself up and stepping over Castiel’s body, standing in front of him.“The Devil sent me here to steal him.”Looks of terror and anger flickered through the troupe, all hooked on listening to what Dean said, now worried that he might hurt Castiel further.“Do you hear me? I did it! It’s all my fault. I’m a witch! I cast a spell on him, one that makes him sin. Cas— Your Prince, he’s the Devil’s now!”Dean was shouting, raising his arms, and trying to seem as deranged as possible. This meant his death, but he could spare Castiel. As long as they believed Dean had forced Castiel, nobody would think to accuse him of something. Eventually, Dean just started yelling gibberish, random words he thought sounded demonic enough, dancing around Castiel’s limp body. When the guards rushed over to grab him and make him stop whatever ‘ritual’ he’d started, he began to thrash around, hoping to scare them. He saw a cross, cool metal pressing against his skin. He pretended it burned.After he continued to fight their grip, the handle of a sword was cracked across his temple, knocking him out cold. Dean fell limp in the hands of several guards, the others already tending to Castiel and helping to carry him back to the castle.Dean’s memory is fuzzy. Warm blood dripping from his temple to his cheek helped him to slip in between states of consciousness. Cold shackles clipped around his wrists, cutting uncomfortably into his skin as he was dragged along. Only Princes were given the luxury of being carried, after all. At some point, Dean ended up tossed into a place that was damp, cold stone meeting his face and sending pain blooming on his cheekbone. He didn’t have the strength to push himself up, not that he could anyway, with his hands shackled together behind him and then chained to the wall. He couldn’t do much of anything but lie there in pain, too sick to worry about his future. He hoped Castiel was alright.