Hello readers and welcome to my story! I'm so excited to be posting the first chapter of this fic. I got the idea from this ( art/Red-Valley-434246994) picture and it evolved from a random story to a Supernatural story. So I hope you all enjoy. I would like to give a big thank you to gammadolphin for being my Beta :) I must warn you though, this story will most likely not have a regulated update schedule as this is a hectic time for me in school and also because I write when I get ideas so if I'm having some block I may put it down and come back in a few days. But enough of my ramblings. Please enjoy chapter 1 of The Castle Across the Valley
I grew up on a house on a hill on the Southern edge of the Red Valley. It was not a small house by any means. It was composed of one main cylindrical shaped building with many other smaller similarly shaped buildings attached. It almost looked like an ornate temple from an old Greek myth. It sat on the edge of a small cliff that overlooked the Valley, so my home had no backyard. Instead, the front gardens sloped downwards and around, leading towards the hills that ringed the Valley and cut it off from the outside world. This house had been very important to my mother, and she spared no expense to make sure our home was beautiful. A dozen tall, neatly trimmed trees lined the pathway up to the grand front door. There were rose bushes and camellia flowers edging the house. Further from the house, there were large knotted oak trees that grew in the sporadic fashion in which nature had intended trees to grow. Also, hidden among the green grasses and beautiful shrubs, were ruins- fallen chunks of large white pillars that were now stained any color but- left behind from a time much different than ours now. And though they did not match the beautiful landscaping my mother had slaved over, she refused to touch the relics.
But I was always glad she didn't. As a child, I would scramble my way down the hillside to a small area where a few of these pillars stood together (which was an odd thing as the other ruins generally each stood alone). There were three of them, all varying in their chopped off heights, and they protruded from a slab of marble of the same type. The marble was cracked and chipped with many weeds that had pushed their way through over time. Vines curled up the pillars though without anywhere to truly go as the tallest of the stones was barely three feet tall. I would play in this place for hours and hours, dawn until dusk, pretending to be a pirate or god or prince or thief, until I heard my mother's yells for supper. I had many older brothers who I could have shared my time with, but I preferred to fill my days with imaginary companions, and I was never sad. My siblings all thought me odd, but I really didn't care. As I grew older, however, the sessions of imagination slowly began to dwindle. Instead the place became a quiet dwelling where I could escape my mother's watchful eyes and my father's persistent words. It became my place for reading, or napping, or sneaking a treat that I wasn't technically supposed to have. I would sit upon the flattest of the pillars, or lean back on the straightest of them, and read, dawn until dusk, getting lost in stories of adventures I longed to be on, until the light was too little to read the tiny words anymore. Only then would I return to home.
The interior of my home did not seem like one that was practical for harboring children. The beautiful wooden floor was not scuffed or scratched. The Persian rugs that were dispersed throughout the various rooms were not frayed or stained. The walls held beautiful painting by famous artists, not children's drawings. Each intricately carved fixture screamed poise and wealth. My father kept a strict "children are not to be seen or heard" rule, especially when he had business colleagues over. It's basically why I spent all of my days outside. There was no sign anywhere of the four young men who lived in the house.
The oldest of my brothers are a pair of twins, Michael and Lucifer, yet they are as un-twin like as it gets in both looks and personality. Both are tall and twenty-four, but the similarities end there. Michael is darker than Lucifer. His hair is so dark is seemed black and his eyes are a beautiful hazel. His face is always clean shaven and I don't think I can ever recall even seeing a five-o-clock shadow. He always stood tall and straight and his personality reflected that. Michael was a strong leader with a strict moral code he expected all his brothers to follow. He also loved our father above all else. Whatever our father ordered was what was done, no questions asked. His faith in the man was blinding, and it sometimes made me almost queasy. He viewed himself as pure, and acted as such. Sometimes it seemed he had no free will of his own.
The other twin, the younger of the two, is Lucifer. Lucifer has sandy blond hair, shockingly blue eyes, and his cheeks always held a little bit of stubble. It was quite obvious that Lucifer was our father's favorite child, much to the dismay and jealousy of Michael. Lucifer was constantly being showered with our father's proud words and good graces, rarely being punished for his wrong doings. And because of this, Lucifer was fiercely prideful. He never doubted himself, and when he failed in his endeavors he would become angry and violent. He was lustful and tempted by the sinful pleasures of women, sex, and alcohol.
The two made for quite the duo.
The middle child of our large family is Balthazar, aged twenty. He has Lucifer's blue eyes and blond hair, but again that was the limit of the resemblance. Balthazar's hair is less short and spikey like Lucifer and more long-ish and curly. He sported a stubbly beard and mustache combo and his face held a fierce vitality that always made me hopeful when I was feeling depressed. Balthazar was a joker and had an innate ability to crack joke or provide a sarcastic comment in any situation without fail. But he often acted on impulse, and his rash decisions would often get him in a heap of trouble with our father. I was always closest with Balthazar, since Michael and Lucifer were always too caught up in their personal competitions to pay me any mind.
And though their flaws were many, they were all my brothers and I loved them dearly, even when they were less than brotherly towards me.
This day started the same way as any typical day in the Novak household. I awoke early and grabbed myself a blueberry muffin from the tray my mother had baked the night before along with the novel I had been reading and a blanket and exited the house. The morning air was cool and crisp and a smile slid onto my face as I wandered towards my spot. I settled down onto the ground with the blanket placed under me and leaned back onto the cold stone. A small paper bookmark protruded from the pages of the well-worn book and carefully opened the text. The book was Dante's Inferno, in its original Italian (my father had us all fluent in French, Spanish, and Italian by the time we were each sixteen), and it was one of my favorites. Dante was currently making his way through the fourth circle of hell, Greed, and though I could tell you everything that happened in that book up and down, left to right, it still gave me chills every time I read it.
The hours passed without any occurrences of note and so I assumed that the rest of the evening would be the same. Never had I been so wrong.
The first thing I noticed was that the air was heavy with anxious anticipation. My father was speaking in a very loud to everyone but me, whom he pointedly avoided looking at. My mother was completely silent throughout our meal. I could feel anxiety radiating off of her skin, and she twitched and jumped at the slightest touch from Balthazar, who sat beside her. I was never a particularly talkative person, but I made extra sure tonight not to say a word.
When our meal finished I moved to clean up the dishes, but my father called my named. "My office," he said gruffly and quickly walked down the hallway. I met Balthazar's eyes, searching them for answers but he only provided a shrug and pat on the shoulder.
The further down the hallway I moved, the heavier my stomach felt. The sense of dread that began pooling inside me was becoming overwhelming, and it took all of my willpower not to run away. At the door, I rapped the wooden frame a few times with my knuckles, more out of habit than anything else, and sat down in one of the chairs opposite my father. He, however, was not sitting in his chair. My father was pacing back and forth behind his desk, smoking a cigarette. I scrunched my nose against the acrid smell, but did not say anything. My father stopped his pacing when I sat down and leaned back against the wall behind him and released a small sigh.
"Castiel," he began. "You are seventeen years old, almost eighteen. It is now the time that you need to make the decision of what you are going to do in your adult life. What job in the family business are you going to take?"
My father was the CEO of a gigantic conglomerate organization. The business manufactured and dealt with just about anything you can think of. One branch designed clothing, another toys. One part was continuously inventing the newest and most advanced technology money could buy in every field from personal devices to army grade weapons systems. And my father expected each of us to grow up to run some part of the humungous corporation. Michael was in charge of company stocks and was learning how to take control of its economic welfare. Lucifer was a dealer. Not a drug dealer, no, but he could pull a contract out of any meeting. He made sure the company's business partners stayed, and that new ones were constantly being formed, and he was rather stellar at it. Balthazar was a wiz at finding things, and so his part in the company was to track down and buy rare items, and restore them. These artifacts would then be displayed in a museum and a hefty admission fee was charged. How the government hadn't taken down my father yet was a wonder to me.
I had yet to choose what I wanted to do. To be honest, I didn't want any part of the family business. Nothing about any of it appealed to me. I would much rather sit and read my days away or help my mother in the garden, not sit behind a desk and shake the hands of people I didn't know and didn't like. And I voiced this opinion.
"I don't want any part of the business," I said. My deep, gruff voice came out a little harsher than I had intended, but I stood my ground. I set a hard look in my eyes and turned the corners of my mouth downwards into a hard frown.
My father huffed and extinguished the butt of his cigarette in the ash tray that sat on his desk. "Then you leave me no choice." There was a sad look in his eyes, but an even harder look on his face. He finally sat down at his computer and began clicking and typing. He didn't look at me once.
A look of confusion passed over my face and I tilted my head slightly to the right, a movement I often used to express my confusion. "No choice for what?" I asked cautiously.
My father didn't respond at first, only typing away. After a few minutes passed by in a tense silence, he turned the computer screen towards me. On it was a photo of a girl. She was very pretty with wavy blonde hair that was half pinned up on the back of her head, with the other half left to fall over her shoulders. She had sharply defined cheek bones, and hazel eyes that reminded me vaguely of Michael's. The girl screamed wealth as she was wearing diamond jewelry and an obviously designer dress. I had never seen this girl in my life.
"Who's that?"
"That is Bela Talbot." He cleared his throat before continuing. "She is the niece of one our most important clients and," he cleared his throat once more. "And she is your new fiancée."
It took me a moment to processes the words he had just spoken, and once I had, I was completely sure I had heard him wrong. But before I could ask him what he actually said, my father kept speaking.
"She is the same age as you and will make a very fine wife," he began shuffling around papers as if looking for something.
The pit of my stomach dropped out from under me and the world started to spin. My mind couldn't process what was going on and I started opening my mouth to protest but no sounds would come out. I looked like a fish opening and closing its mouth repeatedly. Once I finally found my tongue, the only words I could manage were the utterly cliché, yet still effective sentence, "I'm sorry, what?"
An annoyed sigh came from the man in front of me. "You heard me Castiel. You are going to marry her, end of story. You wouldn't choose your future, so I chose it for you. Now leave and go to bed."
"But Dad," I yelled hysterically, "This- this isn't fair! An arranged marriage?! I don't understand how this is a fair trade off!" He tried to speak, saying my name in a soothing tone, but it only served to panic me further. "Give me a job! Send me halfway across the world in the worst position you can find, I don't care! Just don't force me to marry this girl! I can't, I can't, I-"
"Enough!" My father stood, slamming the palms of his hands down into the table. The cigarette that had been delicately held between his pointer and middle fingers was crushed, and the ashes fell out onto the desk. I shut my mouth immediately. "You will marry her and that is FINAL!" he was almost screaming at this point. "This will create a very important bond between her Uncle and mine's companies. And since you refused to choose what you wanted to do in the copious amounts of time I gave you, I get to choose. And this is it. You will marry her and that is final," he repeated, this time without shouting. "Now leave. Bela will be visiting here in two days to meet you. Until then, I expect you to come to grips with this reality. No go!" He turned his back to me, and I knew there was no more arguing that could be done. My fate was sealed. I was to be married.
I don't remember the action of standing, only walking from the door in a distressed haze of confusion and hurt. I numbly climbed many flights of stairs that led to my room on the top floor of our house. I quickly shut and locked my door behind me before leaning back against it and bringing my hands up to my face. I did not move for a long time until the full measure of my situation punched me in the stomach. My fingers slid up into my hair and I gripped it tightly while doubling over and letting the scream that had been building up inside me release from my lip. It was a horrible sound of anguish and betrayal and fear and I couldn't stop it. I screamed until I was hoarse and my legs gave out on me. My body curled in on itself. Sobbed ripped themselves from inside me and hot, blinding tears poured down my cheeks. I cried until it hurt.
Banging came from the door behind my back and the frantic yells of my name from a voice sounding like Lucifer. I didn't answer. "Open up Castiel! Are you ok, open up!" he yelled, but I didn't. I didn't want his or anyone's company. I only desired two things. One was to be alone and I successfully achieved that by ignoring the banging for so long Lucifer eventually just went away. No one else came back.
The other thing I wanted to do was part of a ritual that I did every night. I dragged myself from the position on the floor towards the large window that overlooked the valley. I sat in the deep cut out window seat that was underneath the largest window in my room. I pushed aside the numerous pillows and a thick fluffy blanket still lying on the seat from when it had rained the previous week and I had used the space as a replacement reading nook. I slid open the windows and reached towards the large lantern that hung from the upper frame. I don't know why the house had that there, but it had been there since I could remember and my parents never bothered to remove it. It was turned on and off by a rather large switch on the back part that faced towards me. The lamp was extremely bright, blinding almost, and if I faced it towards the ground I could clearly see the stalks of the thick grasses that grew in the valley, even though we were extremely high above it. But this lantern was not pointed down. It was pointing outwards and upwards, towards a mountain that sat at the northern most end of the valley. On top of this mountain was one of the most beautiful houses I had even seen. It was much bigger than my home, and must have had half a dozen floors. There were three towers- a thick middle one and two thinner outside ones, and there were other smaller satellite buildings that seemed to grow out of the rocky mountain. That was where my lantern was pointed.
I rubbed my eyes wearily and flipped on the switch. I left it on for three seconds before flipping it back off. I repeated this twice before stopping, and waiting. I sat and stared into the distance for almost thirty seconds before I felt some of the dead weight in my heart lift off. From where the middle tower of the beautiful house on the mountain would be (since it was now dark and I couldn't see the building) came a flashing light, the same three three-second flashes I had just sent out. A small smile slid onto my face and I put my hand on the switch again. I signed back two flashes this time, which after a pause were relayed back to me. Then one flash there, one flash back, and it was over. I sighed quietly to myself and slid off the window bench and trudged over to my bed. I didn't know who this person was- name, gender, age- but I felt like I had a friend in that tower far, far away and, since I didn't really have friends, it gave me hope.
I climbed into my neatly made bed and turned off the lamp that I had forgotten to turn off that morning. The blankets were cold. I curled in on myself in an attempt to use my own body heat to warm myself, and drifted off into restless dreams off Bela Talbot's face and flashing white lights.