The Blacksmith and the Beast
Prologue
Serena-loves-Angst and IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Opulence. Elegance. Power. Absolute dominance.
These are the things that King Castiel James Novak II encompasses, and he makes sure everything he does and owns reflects it.
Currently, he's donning a navy tunic sewn from velvet, black leggings, a silver cape made of the finest silk, and a sapphire-studded crown sits nestled in his dark-brown locks. His steely blue eyes gleam in satisfaction as he stands at the top of the stairs, looking down into his ballroom. It's filled with people, many nobles and dignitaries, all chattering and enjoying themselves, but he can tell that they're all impatient.
Impatient for him.
The second he steps foot on the first stair he knows he has gotten everyone's attention; even the musicians have stopped playing. He slowly descends the stairs, hand trailing down the railing in a show of grace and ownership.
Outside, the lightning pounds against the windows, and the sound of it and the accompanying rolls of thunder can finally be heard.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Castiel doesn't pause on his descent, but a few of his guests begin to look confused.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
This time, Castiel looks down at one of his servants, glaring at them as if they're the cause of the thudding noise.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"For the love of God, someone get the door!" Castiel hisses, hand tightening around the railing as he reaches the last steps.
One of the handmaidens quickly pardons her way to the door, opening it.
"Thank goodness, I've been looking for a place to stop for so long…" The voice can clearly be heard throughout the entire ballroom even though it couldn't have been uttered louder than a slow, soft rasp. The maid steps aside slowly, eyes unfocused, and a small, hooded man dressed in rags enters the ballroom.
It's as if everything shifts and there is only shades of gray around Castiel and the ragged traveler, and Castiel's eyes widen in shock. When he blinks, the colors are back and everything is normal. He shakes it off and strides through the path that the crowd hastily make for him, marching right up to the strange man and looking down at him.
"Who are you?" Castiel demands, and damn if his lip isn't already curling up.
The man's head raises a little, and Castiel can briefly see the wrinkles and lines of age underneath the shadows of the hood.
"I am only a traveler passing by. Please, the storm outside is so great and my old bones cannot take the battering sheets of nature. May I stay here just until the storm passes?" His voice is shaking with something Castiel dismisses as exhaustion and old age.
Castiel crosses his arms. "Tell me why I should let a filthy thing like you stay in my castle for a moment longer and maybe I will."
The man sucks in a quivering breath. "But, your highness, I have heard tales of your kindness and generosity regaled throughout the lands. Why would you turn such a weak man like I back into the storm where I could die cold, wet, and alone?"
Castiel rolls his eyes. "I meant," Castiel pauses to look the old man up and down in obvious disapproval, "what do you have to offer me?"
The old man reaches into his robe and takes out the most beautiful rose anyone in the ballroom has ever seen. It's as if it has the deepest, brightest blue of the sky rolled around the top of the healthy green stem, droplets of dew that can only be described as angel tears slipping off of it, and the pearly pink thorns look as sharp as needles.
Castiel is mildly impressed by the rose's beauty, but what good is a flower that will only die in a few days?
"Please, take it…" the old man holds it out to him.
Castiel takes it, pretending to look over it in interest. After a moment he looks down at the old man. "Sorry, not good enough," he says, throwing the rose back at him. As he does so one of the thorns cuts a gash in his palm and he hisses in pain. He glares over at one of the guards. "Get him out of here!" he orders.
The guard straightens and marches over to them, taking the old man's arm.
"I'm afraid you're not wanted here, beggar," the guard states before trying to pull the old man along, but he finds that he can't move him. It's as if he's pulling at a statue!
Castiel shifts on his other foot, clutching his bleeding hand in protectiveness, and he's looking at the guard impatiently.
The guard tries again, and he still can't move him. He uses his other hand and finds himself exhausted for some reason.
"I'm sorry, highness, I just can't move him…" the guard says before collapsing, making the duchess next to him shriek and jump out of the way.
Castiel's brow furrows. "What the…?"
The old man sighs, and as he straightens his hunched back he's suddenly standing over six feet tall. His rags have turned into a magnificent robe and he looks down at him in omniscience. The crowd suddenly turns gray-scale once again, and only Castiel and the man are in full-color.
"Who are you?" Castiel demands. He refuses to show any fear, even though it's pumping through his veins like ice.
"Do you know what I have come for, Castiel?" the man asks patiently.
"No, I don't. What do you want from me?" Castiel looks feral, but his animosity is only half his terror. Who is this man to walk into his castle and start to do…whatever the hell this is?!
"I came to assess you, Castiel. To see if you truly deserved all that you have," the man's face draws into disappointment and Castiel suddenly feels the need to make it up to him. "I was afraid of this, but I have to do what I must."
A scream tears its way out of Castiel's throat as he suddenly drops to his knees. The cut in his hand feels like it's on fire and he can hear the abnormally fast rush of his blood and the hard pounding of his heart against his ribcage. His skin begins to crawl and for some reason he can't stop hunching… Why do his clothes suddenly feel tighter?
"What…are you doing to me?" Castiel chokes out, gasping from the pain.
"I will give you a chance, Castiel. By your thirtieth birthday, you must find a person who loves you for who you are. You cannot tell them about what you used to be. It will be hard, but believe me when I say that fate works in strange ways… You have until the last petal of the rose falls, so make sure you take good care of it."
Castiel can barely hear him through the buzzing in his head, but he makes sure to memorize every word he says. He looks up and sees the rose lying a few feet away, and he crawls towards it. The pain is building with every second, and he barely notices as his guests slowly start to disappear.
Castiel groans lowly when another spike of pain hits him, this one leaving him dry-heaving on the floor for a minute, shaking and sweating. However, once it's over he finds that the pain is gone, but he feels different… He reaches for the rose and sees a hideous paw grasping the rose… He quickly retracts his hand back, and tries not to vomit when he notices that the paw did too.
There can only be one explanation.
Castiel staggers onto his feet, and he feels very tall for some reason. He walks over to one of the polished shields hanging on the wall. Once he catches a glimpse of himself he freezes.
In the thick of the storm, through the booming calls of the thunder and hard-hitting droplets of rain, a single roar tears through the entire forest and the towns beyond.
For lo and behold, King Castiel James Novak II has now become a giant, horrid beast.