Chapter Text
“Lady Castiel!”
Castiel walks faster, urging Meg to hurry up too, but they don’t move quickly enough to shake off the rapidly approaching pair of footsteps.
“Elle, please—wait.”
Castiel holds back a sigh and slows to a stop. When she doesn’t turn to face her cousin, he steps around to stand in front of her. “Prince,” she acknowledges, forcing a polite smile.
Balthazar’s returning smile is pained. “I promise you, I did everything I could—”
“I believe you,” Castiel interrupts. She doesn’t want to hear his speech, isn’t in the mood for company. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to return home now. I only have three days left to spend with my brother.”
“If you’re in a hurry to get back, I suppose I cannot stop you,” Balthazar says, looking down. He reaches out for Castiel’s hand and presses a slip of paper into it before she can draw it back. “Meet me here tonight, half an hour past midnight,” he says in a low voice.
“Prince, I—”
“Please don’t call me that, Elle.”
Castiel looks her cousin in the eyes and says, “It’s inappropriate for me to speak to you familiarly.” The way Balthazar’s face falls doesn’t bring her any satisfaction, and she waits for him to leave.
“I’ll be waiting for you there,” he murmurs before heading back up toward the palace.
Castiel closes her fist around the slip of paper and continues walking toward the palace gates. This place used to be her home. She passes through the gardens she used to play in, and she can’t stop the bitterness from welling up in her chest. Maybe it will be better to live in Laurentia, where she won’t have to suffer these familiar walkways and the memories that they hold.
The guards salute her as she passes through the gate, and she graces them with a smile. Inias stands beside her carriage, waiting.
“This was a quick visit, m’lady,” he comments as he opens the door for her.
“Yes,” Castiel agrees succinctly.
She allows Inias to help her into the carriage and takes a seat. Meg steps inside next and sits down across from her. Inias closes the door, and a moment later, the vehicle lurches into motion. Castiel closes her eyes.
“Will you meet him tonight?”
Castiel sighs softly and looks at her maid. “Do you think I should?”
“No,” Meg answers immediately. “Of course, I don’t presume to know your feelings, but if I’m not wrong, you never felt for him before, and seeing him now, only a few days before you’re to leave… it isn’t a good move.”
“You’re right that it’s a bad idea,” Castiel says, looking down at her clasped hands. The slip of paper is still in her hand, and she contemplates throwing it out the window. “But he’s been so much better to Raphael and me than the rest of his immediate family, and I do appreciate that.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean you should go to him,” Meg argues. “It’ll be the middle of the night, and I assume he wants to meet with you in private. It’d be… unseemly.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Castiel concedes. “Thank you, Meg.”
Meg smiles. “It’s no problem at all, Elle.”
Castiel leans forward and pulls the small drape aside to look out the window at the passing landscape—they haven’t reached the turnoff that leads to her estate yet. She sits back, closes her eyes, and lets the curtain fall into place.
She has just been promised to—sold to, really—the King of Laurentia, in a bargain for peace. This trip into the castle was simply to inform her of her impending departure. Apparently, talks have been going on for weeks, but Castiel wasn’t informed until less than an hour ago. It pains her that her uncle would do such a thing to her, but it isn’t surprising. Not anymore. Not after he forced her and her brothers out of their rightful home.
Michael and Lucifer vanished the night that Zachariah took the throne, and Gabriel disappeared soon after. Raphael may have chosen to accept their uncle’s words as truth, but Castiel still firmly believes that their father did not just abandon them, leaving Zachariah to take his place. But she has no proof that her uncle did anything treacherous, and as a woman, she has very little power at her disposal.
Meg’s hand rests over hers, and Castiel’s eyes snap open. “It’ll be okay,” Meg says.
Castiel shakes her head. “I hate to believe the rumors, but in this case, rumors are the only source of information that I have,” she says. “Do you think the king has really bedded so many women?”
There’s a brief pause before Meg answers, “Yes, I do. I’ve heard that in Laurentia, soldiers are allowed to bed as many women as they wish. The king fought alongside the soldiers when he was a prince, so I can only assume—”
“One would hope that a prince would have more dignity than his subjects, even if he stands beside them in battle,” Castiel says stiffly.
“The king is said to be fierce, one of the fiercest fighters in the land,” Meg says.
This isn’t a good quality, not in Castiel’s eyes. She’s always wanted to be the wife of a scholar. A poet, perhaps. “I don’t care much for ferocity,” she says to Meg.
“I hear his brother is more dignified than he is,” Meg comments.
“The second-born or the third?”
“The second, I believe,” Meg answers. “He is supposedly a gentleman. The only shame is that he’s the younger brother, so he wasn’t the rightful heir to the throne.”
“That does sound unfortunate,” Castiel says. The carriage veers to the right, and she knows that they’re almost at the estate. “Are any of our servants from Laurentia?” she asks.
Meg thinks it over for a moment. Finally, she replies, “Yes, I think so. There’s a girl, about our age, but I doubt you’ve met her. She works in the kitchen, mostly.”
“Her name?”
“Anna,” Meg says. When Castiel doesn’t speak, Meg continues, “The king said that you could bring along three personal servants. Will Anna be the third?”
“Perhaps. I’ll need to speak with her,” Castiel answers—it doesn’t need to be said that Meg and Inias are the two other servants she’ll be bringing along. They’ve been with her since she was very small, and they are the two people whom Castiel trusts more than anyone else in the world. She doesn’t think she’d be able to leave them behind if she had to.
The carriage slows to a stop, and Inias opens the door from the outside, holding a hand out to steady Castiel as she disembarks.
“Shall I fetch her for you, then?” Meg asks.
“No, not yet. I’d like to speak with my brother, first,” Castiel says.
Zachariah claimed that Raphael had already known that the negotiations were taking place. If that’s true, Castiel will have to count him as a traitor—he should have told her that this was coming. Maybe if she had enough time, she’d be able to think her way out of the situation, but as it is, she’s leaving in three days’ time, and it just isn’t enough.
As she heads toward the front gate, Castiel decides that she really should meet with her cousin tonight, but she’ll have to be careful.
“You came.”
Balthazar sounds surprised, and Castiel doesn’t blame him—she’s a little surprised herself. She’d almost lost her nerve more than once, and it was so tempting to stay under the warmth of her coverlet and just sleep.
“Yes,” she says, needlessly. Balthazar reaches for her hand, but she steps back. “You wished to speak with me?” Castiel prompts.
Her cousin averts his gaze. “Yes. Elle, I’m so sorry.”
Castiel frowns at him. “If that is all you had to say to me, then this was a needless risk,” she says. It wouldn’t exactly be an inexcusable offense to be found wandering on the outskirts of their estate at this hour, but being caught alone with a male, especially only a few days before she is to be married, would certainly have severe repercussions. When Balthazar doesn’t respond, Castiel turns to leave.
“Wait,” Balthazar says, catching her arm.
Castiel gasps and spins around, but Balthazar steps forward, retaining his hold on her. “Let me go,” she says, eyes flitting around. She feels a modicum of relief when her scan doesn’t reveal any onlookers, but she still doesn’t feel secure.
“Just listen to me.”
“Then let go of me,” Castiel says, her voice steady.
Balthazar breathes out shakily and releases her arm. “I know you don’t want to do this.”
Castiel laughs bitterly. It’s not something she would do if she were in full possession of her faculties, but it’s very late, and she’s tired. “Understatement,” is all she says.
“Come with me, then.”
Castiel blinks. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand.”
“Come with me,” Balthazar repeats, making an aborted movement to take her hand again. “We can leave everything behind, like Michael and Lucifer. We can even join them, if you want to—I overheard that they’re living somewhere near the border. We can find them.” Castiel shakes her head, eyes wide, but Balthazar continues fervently, “I’ll make sure you’re safe. I’ll take care of you, if you’ll let me.”
“Balthazar… I really can’t,” Castiel says.
“You can,” Balthazar insists, grabbing her hand. Castiel tries to pull her hand back, but he holds on tightly. “Please, Elle. I don’t think I can watch you get married to someone else.”
Castiel finally breaks free and takes a few steps back. “I… I appreciate your sentiment, but you must know that I’ve never returned your feelings.”
“Even so, you don’t have to go to Laurentia,” Balthazar says, but his voice falters. “Come away with me.”
Castiel manages a small smile. “Thank you for offering, but it would be best if we never spoke of this again,” she says. Before Balthazar can protest, she adds, “This is not solely about my happiness or yours. Can you imagine the consequences if this marriage were not completed?”
“For you, I could leave it all behind. I don’t care about the crown, the country, any of it,” Balthazar says.
“But I do,” Castiel says. “You must know what I think of your father, but whether or not I support our current king, I am still a child of Tarcaelius, and I will not see my country at war, not when there are preventative measures to be taken. What is my life worth in comparison to the lives of our people? If one person must be sacrificed to end the conflict, I am willing to be that person.”
“But… but if you marry the King of Laurentia, you won’t even be one of us anymore,” Balthazar protests, but the argument is weak—even he must know that.
“Balthazar,” Castiel says softly, “my dear cousin. You’ve always been so kind to me, ever since we were children. You are not like your brother and father, and I will miss you very much.”
Balthazar seems to know he’s lost. “Elle…” he says, a pleading note in his voice.
“It would be best if we didn’t see each other again until the departing ceremony,” Castiel says, because if she’s too kind to Balthazar, he’ll never let her leave. “Thank you for your kindness.”
Balthazar gives her a watery smile. “Goodbye, then, milady.”
“Ride safely,” Castiel responds.
She watches Balthazar hop over the short stone wall and mount his horse, but he doesn’t ride off, seemingly intent on watching her. So she turns away and walks back toward the manor, only about half a mile away.
When she looks back over her shoulder a few minutes later, her cousin and his steed are gone.
Dean doesn’t bother knocking before entering Sam’s private study.
“You know, this room is described as private for a reason,” Sam says without looking up from his papers.
“Yeah well, I’m called the king for a reason,” Dean says. Sam sighs heavily, but Dean goes on, “The thing I like most about being king is that I get to make my own decisions.”
“Dean—”
“Why didn’t you report to me before sealing the agreement?” Dean demands.
“You told me that I shouldn’t bother you with international politics, so I—”
“This isn’t politics, Sam! This is my life!” Dean barks.
Sam stares up at him for a moment before finally putting his quill down. “As you pointed out, Dean, you’re the king. Your life is politics. The state of the nation is your responsibility, and as it is, I’ve been carrying a lot of your weight. So instead of yelling at me, you should probably be thanking me for sparing you a war.”
“I’d rather go to war,” Dean says impulsively.
“Really,” Sam says, deadpan. “You’d rather spend all of that money on weapons and extra wages, and compensations to the families of the soldiers who die on the battlefield? You’d rather put so many lives at stake? All you have to lose is your status as a bachelor, and I really don’t see how that would matter. You can still sleep with whomever you want even after you’re married. You’re the king.”
Dean glares at his brother. “Have you missed the part where you’re just marrying me off like a bargaining chip?”
This gets another stare from Sam, but this time he bursts into laughter. Dean glares down at him, unmoving, and slowly the laughter subsides.
“So, what?” Sam finally says. “Were you… I don’t know, saving yourself for somebody?”
“Wha—no!” Dean protests.
“Then what exactly is your problem? If you don’t want her around, you don’t even have to see her that often. You could even arrange for her to sleep in separate quarters after consummation, if you wanted.”
Dean stares at Sam. “She’d be my wife, Sammy. How could I—”
“I was just saying that you could do it, if you really couldn’t stand her,” Sam says. Dean sighs and drops into the chair in front of Sam’s desk, and Sam rubs his forehead. “Dean, it’s just marriage. You’re going to have to get married at some point, anyway. The noblewomen of Tarcaelius are brought up well. She’d be a good queen.”
“You don’t know a thing about this girl,” Dean says.
“Well, no,” Sam admits.
“So don’t say that she’ll be a good queen. You don’t know that.”
Sam sighs again. “What’s done is done. If you break this accord, we’ll go to war. And I know that deep down, you understand the reasons why this is the best choice.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbles. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I never said you did.”
Dean is silent for a while, and Sam picks up his quill again, returning to his papers. Dean mulls over the situation. He’s never liked the idea of getting married to a total stranger, and though he’d never admit it to anyone, he’s always wanted something like the relationship that Mother and Father had. There had been so much genuine affection between them. It was no surprise that Father couldn’t last long after Mother passed away.
“Tell me about her,” Dean says.
“Sorry, who?” Sam asks, continuing to write.
“This girl. Castle.”
“Castiel,” Sam corrects.
“Yeah, her.”
Sam pauses his writing, quill hovering over the paper as he thinks. Then he sets the quill down and looks at Dean. “I really don’t know much about her personally, but I’ve… I know what happened to her family. It was… unfortunate, to put it mildly.”
“So you only know her political background,” Dean concludes.
“Yes.”
Dean shakes his head and gets to his feet. “It doesn’t interest me.”
“I didn’t think it would, but I do think it would benefit you to know what her life has been like.”
“Never mind,” Dean says, heading for the exit. “She’ll be here in a few days, anyway. I’ll ask her myself.”
“Suit yourself,” Sam says. “And close the door on your way out.”
Castiel maintains a calm, poised attitude throughout the farewell ceremony. Zachariah gives a long speech about how sad he’ll be to see her go, and she wants more than anything to storm across the few yards separating them and give him a good, solid fist to the nose.
But she is a lady, and ladies don’t do such things.
When Zachariah finally steps back, Raphael takes the stand, and his speech is infinitely better, though it is cut short by an impatient cough from Zachariah. As Castiel is led from the stage, she manages to smile and wave at the crowd of commoners—it is for them that she is giving up her happiness. It will be better for them to think that she goes willingly. Happily.
Raphael rushes off the platform before her and nudges Inias aside, taking up his place by the door to Castiel’s carriage, and she blinks away the tears that rise unbidden to her eyes. He opens the door for her and extends a hand, and she smiles up at him, wondering if this will be the last she sees of her only remaining brother.
“Goodbye, Raphael,” she says, and she’s proud of the steadiness of her voice.
“Goodbye, sister,” Raphael answers, and the hitch in his breath is enough to make her forgive his choice to withhold the truth from her.
Castiel allows Raphael to help her into the carriage and takes her usual seat. Meg and Anna join her inside, sitting across from her—Castiel notes that Raphael steps back to allow Inias to help the maids inside. Then the door swings closed, and Castiel pulls aside the curtain to wave again at the spectators. She sees Balthazar, standing stiffly beside Uriel, and knows that he would have given anything to be in Raphael’s place.
Her eyes fall to her brother again, and though he gives her an encouraging smile, she sees pain in his eyes, proof that she was far from the only victim today.
Then horns are blaring, and the carriage starts to move. Meg snatches Castiel’s hand, pulling it back from the window to let the curtain fall shut. Castiel gives her maid a reproachful look, but Meg just rubs the back of her hand gently.
Castiel blinks, and a tear slips from her eye.
“Oh, Elle,” Meg breathes, leaning forward. Castiel anticipates her intention and shifts to the side, making room for Meg to sit down beside her. “Don’t cry,” Meg says, releasing Castiel’s hand and lifting a kerchief to dab at her eyes.
Castiel holds back a sob and smiles. “I’m not.” She looks over to see that Anna’s averting her eyes, so she reaches out and takes Anna’s hand in hers.
The maid looks up, startled. “Milady?”
“In front of other people, that is what you must call me. But between the three of us, you may address me as you wish,” Castiel says. “We’re going to a different land now, and we will know no souls outside our own party. Let us be like sisters.”
Anna nods tentatively. “What should I call you, then?” she asks.
“Elle,” Meg supplies. “It’s been our nickname for her for years.”
“Elle,” Anna repeats, squeezing Castiel’s hand. “I… I’m so thankful to you. I have wanted to return to my homeland for a very long time. I don’t even know if my parents are still alive.”
Castiel releases Anna’s hand and smiles again. “After we are settled in, I will dispatch people to find your parents for you, then.” She is fairly certain that this much at least will be within her power—she will be the queen, after all.
This is a strange thought. Until this point, Castiel hasn’t really thought much of the power she will most likely have at her disposal. She immediately remembers what Balthazar had said that night about her missing brothers and wonders if she will finally be able to find them. It’s been over seven years since she saw them last, and she’d only been a little girl at the time, but she’d known that something was wrong.
“I know this probably won’t be much comfort to you, but Balthazar persuaded the king to allow us another guard, in addition to Inias,” Meg says.
Castiel frowns. “Why wasn’t I informed about this?”
“There was no time,” Meg answers. “Inias told me minutes before the ceremony. Balthazar gave up Samandriel.”
Castiel has always been good at keeping an unaffected expression, and the skill comes in handy now. “He did what?” she asks. Samandriel is to Balthazar what Inias and Meg are to Castiel. The guard has served Balthazar for almost his entire life, and to give him to Castiel…
“I was surprised as well,” Meg says. She adds to Anna, “Samandriel is one of Balthazar’s most trusted servants.”
“He shouldn’t have,” Castiel murmurs, but she understands why he did so—she knows the way her cousin thinks, knows that if he couldn’t accompany her himself, he would send his most trusted friend with her.
Castiel falls silent, and her two servants accompany her wordlessly.
Hours later, when Anna and Meg have nodded off, Castiel finally allows herself to think back on her home, the home that hasn’t truly been hers for over seven years, and the tears start to fall.