Lady Ellen died when Castiel was thirteen. She had rapidly come down with a fever that had hit much of court, but was only severe in a few cases. She had seemed well one day, and had promised to read to Castiel under their tree the next morning. But when Cas woke up, she was gone. He hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye.
After the funeral - after he had met the prince - Castiel had been inconsolable and refused all company except for that of Anna; preferring to hide in the kitchen rather than making pleasantries amongst people who called his mother "beautiful," and "charming," and "an excellent dancer." She was all those things, but she had been so much more. She had been the storyteller his father would never be. She had been kind, and funny and smart. You didn't cross her or anyone she loved without feeling the barb of her tongue. On one of Castiel's rare visits to court, Captain Singer, had confided to him that most of the men of the court were equally terrified and in love with her. They all knew she was more than capable of taking them down a peg. Most were also secretly in awe of her ability to drink them under the table without flinching.
Those people didn't know his mother, they only thought they did. So he stayed with Anna, possibly the one person just as grief stricken as himself.
"Mother once told me I have a guardian angel," Castiel said, staring down at the table morosely. "She said she'd tell me who it was when I was older. I don't suppose I'll ever know now."
"Stir this, Castiel, don't just sit there and mope." Anna wiped a tear from her face with her apron. Her red hair was streaked white with flour. Despite being in mourning herself, Anna still needed to cook for the guests out front.
Cas looked down into the bowl and saw the filling for an apple pie. He didn't want to stir. He didn't want to do anything. But Anna had commanded it and it wasn't long before he felt the familiar twinge in his shoulder blades, pushing his arms to move and act.
Sighing, he picked up the spoon and started to stir.
"You do have a guardian angel, Castiel. She is always watching over you, as she watched over your mother."
"Why didn't she save my mother then?"
Anna sighed, looking down at her hands as they kneaded the dough that would become the crust for the pie. "There are some things even an angel doesn't have the power to fix. There are some things, only God has control over."
Castiel frowned. "I thought God was gone. That's why the angels are in Fell instead of their own country."
"God may be missing, but that doesn't mean he's gone. All angels must have faith in this. Otherwise, why are they here? What is their purpose? God sent them forth as punishment for their own vanity; set them as guardians over humans as their penance. If angels do well, and serve God's plan, perhaps they will one day be allowed to return. They have waited ages. Angels are immortal after all. If they don't have faith in that chance, if they can't break that curse, then what hope is there?"
Castiel looked up at Anna sharply when she spoke of breaking the angelic curse. "Do you think I can break my curse?"
Anna looked at him sadly. "I don't know," she said, and Castiel hated her honesty in that moment.
"Maybe I can find Naomi one day and talk to her. Tell her how horrible it really is to be obedient all the time. Maybe she'll understand and take the curse away for me."
Anna shook her head. "The curse was very big magic. And applied directly to a human. Except for minor healings - a sore throat, a scrape here or there - angels aren't supposed to apply magic directly to a human. It's their greatest taboo. To remove the curse would be equally large magic."
Castiel looked down and pretended a tear did not drop into the mix he was stirring.
It would be more than a year before he saw Prince Dean again.
Castiel generally avoided interacting with other people as a rule. The less he interacted with them, the less likely someone would find out his secret. There were certain occasions, though, that demanded action.
He had gone to the market with instructions from Anna to bring home supplies she would need for dinner. Really, she just wanted to get him out of the house. His father was gone again on some trek for inspiration. After Lady Ellen's death, he had taken to making such trips frequently and was rarely home for more than a week at a time. Castiel didn't mind. He and his father rarely saw eye to eye.
On Castiel's way home, he heard shouting on the other side of a narrow alleyway.
"Pick it up!" someone shouted.
Castiel frowned. He hated when people ordered others around. Particularly when those orders were clearly not being given with respect. He set down his bag, moving into the passage and sticking to the shadows as he observed the scene before him.
A smaller boy had his head bowed as he was on his knees righting a basket of spilled apples and reaching to pick up its spilled contents. There were two larger boys flanking him. As the smaller boy placed the apples back in the basket, one of the boys laughed mirthlessly and kicked the basket over again.
"You klutz! Look what you did! Pick them up you idiot!"
The boy on the ground looked close to tears and Castiel had seen enough. He stepped forward, ignoring his gut as it warned him about getting involved and regretting the consequences.
"Leave him alone," Castiel growled, grateful that his voice had dropped several months ago. The command was far more impressive than the high pitched squeak it would have been even a season past.
The two bullies turned. One laughed and tilted his chin in Castiel's direction as he looked towards his friend. "Look what we have here Uriel. A little hero."
The one called Uriel turned. He was tall and dark skinned with a smile that didn't come close to reaching his stone-hard eyes.
"Back off, brat. This isn't your problem."
It was an order, but Castiel only had to obey the words, not the intent. He backed away from Uriel, but in doing so, positioned himself more solidly in front of the smaller boy on the ground.
Uriel's grin turned feral. "Looks like this one fancies himself not just a hero, but a warrior, Zachariah."
Castiel narrowed his eyes and assessed his opponents. Both were older than he was and several inches taller. Uriel was wound tight, his muscles clearly straining towards the fight, the look on his face one of clear anticipation at the chance to cause pain. Zachariah, on the the other hand, looked calm and almost bored with the proceedings. He smiled beatifically at Castiel. The curve of his mouth reminded Castiel of a snake luring its prey in. He would need to keep a close eye on Zachariah. He was likely to be more dangerous than Uriel.
He did not doubt both boys were able fighters and their size and number gave them an apparent advantage. Castiel wasn't concerned. So long as they didn't order him to do something.
Uriel swung the first punch. Castiel was ready. He brought his hand up and caught Uriel's fist in his open palm. The move surprised Uriel, causing him to hesitate. Castiel used the pause to mutter at the boy behind him, "I suggest you take this opportunity to run."
Fortunately, the boy listened and Castiel was able to return his focus to the fight in time to dodge Uriel's free fist. He still felt the brush of knuckles against the top of his head as he ducked down. Castiel moved quickly, using his own momentum to step behind Uriel, bringing the older boy's fist with him, twisting it behind Uriel's back.
Castiel might be smaller, but that meant he was also lighter on his feet. He used this to his advantage as he moved to prevent Uriel from turning to face him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched for any signs of movement from Zachariah. So far, it seemed, he was content to observe with a small look of amusement on his face with no intention of intervening. That suited Castiel, but he needed to take care of Uriel before Zachariah changed his mind.
Castiel took a moment to test Uriel's posture as they danced around each other in a tight circle, with Uriel trying to throw his opponent off. Lips thinning with decision, Castiel lifted his foot and kicked in the back of Uriel's left knee, which he determined to be the weaker of the two. Instantly, Uriel crumpled to his knees with a sharp cry. Castiel pushed him to the ground, knowing he was currently incapacitated. He quickly spun to Zachariah who was no longer smiling.
Zachariah moved forward, more slowly calculating than Uriel had. Cas moved to the balls of his feet, prepared to dodge in any direction needed to avoid this new threat. Castiel wished he had a weapon. He was far more proficient with a blade of any kind than he was with his fists. He had stepped into this fight though, and he would finish it.
Zachariah did not strike immediately however. He circled instead, forcing Castiel to turn as well to keep an eye on him. Castiel wasn't sure what the endgame might be, but he would not be baited into making the first move. Anna might constantly chide him for being headstrong, but she had never accused him of being rash.
"Stop!" The command came loud and clear from behind Castiel. Whether it was intended for him or not, he didn't know, but regardless, he could not fight anymore. Not without the curse complaints kicking in. His forced his body to relax while every part of his mind screamed,no, this is dangerous!
Because the command was so vague, Cas couldn't even turn to see who had issued it. He felt somewhat more confident when he saw Zachariah hiss in displeasure.
"Two against one, huh?" the voice behind Castiel asked. The tone was familiar. Castiel was sure he had heard it before, but couldn't place it without seeing the face it belonged to.
"Doesn't seem like a fair fight to me. Kinda why I held back - looked like you two were way outmatched. Cas here could have handled you both easy if you didn't play dirty."
Cas? Nobody called him Cas. Who was this stranger?
"Cas, you ok? Hey man, look at me for a sec."
Castiel could move again. He turned to face his benefactor and drew up short. Dean. He looked at the prince for precisely a second before averting his gaze. When he did, he realized Uriel was back up on his feet. There was a blade on the ground in front of him and he was currently detained by a guard.
That was why Dean had stepped in, Uriel must have been about to attack from behind with a weapon. Zachariah had intentionally been maneuvering Cas so his back was to the real threat. He cursed himself for a fool for not realizing it sooner.
"Hey, Cas, what's wrong? Did you get hurt in the fight? I didn't see them land anything on you - I would have stepped in sooner if they had."
Castiel looked up again. "No, thank you, Your -," protocol dictated he refer to the prince as Your Highness. There were others around - including part of the royal guard. But the prince had told Castiel to call him by his given name. Even if the order had been given over a year ago, it had never been countermanded. Already Castiel could feel the curse complaints starting.
Fortunately, Dean held up his hand with a smile on his face. "I told you before, don't call me Your Highness."
Castiel smiled a genuine smile for the first time as he looked at Dean. "Thank you, Dean. How did you know we were down here at all?"
"Right place at the right time. We were coming down the road when," Dean jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards someone still hiding in the alley, "he came tearing out of nowhere begging for help. I came expecting a real fight, but you had them pretty well in hand." Dean looked impressed. Part of Castiel was embarrassed, but another part of him glowed with pride.
To mask both reactions, he looked more closely to the figure in the alleyway. It was the young boy Uriel and Zachariah had taken to bullying. Dean noticed the direction of Castiel's attention and waved the boy over. "What's your name, kid?"
The younger boy looked up at the prince nervously, "Samandriel, Your Highness." He turned his gaze back to Castiel, his eyes conveyed a gratitude that made Castiel slightly uncomfortable. "Thank you. They've bullied me before. If I didn't get these apples home, I'd have been in a lot of trouble. You have a lot of heart, stepping in the way you did."
"You're welcome. It wasn't much. I just really don't like bullies. I don't think people have a right to order other people around just because they can," Castiel replied, trying to deflect the admiration Samandriel seemed to place on him.
Then he realized what he had said and looked quickly at Dean. It was rather ridiculous to comment on the unfairness of giving orders in the presence of a future king. Dean just smiled though and Castiel sighed, happy the prince hadn't taken offense.
"All right, Samandriel. Why don't you go ahead and get those apples home. Rufus, will you see that these, gentlemen, are seen to properly?"
"I certainly will, Your Highness. Will you be continuing on then?" He didn't look overly pleased at the thought of the prince going unescorted.
"That depends." Dean turned to grin at Castiel. "Do you mind my company for a while?"
Castiel felt a flare of happiness inside him followed by one of confusion. Why would the prince want his company? He gave a mental shrug. He wouldn't know until he had spent time with him, and Castiel enjoyed the prince's presence. He had a lightness to him, and his eyes promised a quick and ready laugh. Castiel rarely spent time with others beyond the household staff, especially those close to his own age. Despite his usual reticence at the thought, Castiel found he wanted to be friends with Dean.
"Not at all, Dean."
Dean's grin broadened at Castiel's use of his given name and he winked as he turned to Rufus, saying, "Well, you have your answer. I'll see you back at the palace later this afternoon."
"Yes sir!" Rufus said, leading Uriel and Zachariah away. Samandriel followed with his basket, glancing back shyly once more to wave at Castiel.
"I think you made a new friend today, Cas," Dean said grinning.
Castiel found he liked the nickname.
"So, where did you learn to fight like that?" Dean asked, leaning back against one of the walls of the building behind him, clearly not in a hurry to go anywhere in particular.
Castiel took his cue from the prince and sat down on the top of a barrel lining the adjacent wall. "My mother made sure I would know how to fight," Castiel began. "She hoped I might one day join the Hunters."
The Hunters were the warriors that guarded travelers through the kingdom. There were many dangerous creatures that made moving between the cities unsafe. Wendigos, djinn, willowisps, and hellhounds, amongst others, all populated the woods and empty spaces between waiting for the unwary. Hunters were the elite, the guardians. They were the highest class warriors in the kingdom. Most strove to join their ranks but few actually achieved it. Lady Ellen had begun training Castiel shortly after his sixth birthday. She herself was an able fighter and was his first teacher.
Dean nodded at Castiel's revelation and to Castiel's relief, he didn't laugh. "Do you still want to?" He asked, curiosity evident in his voice.
Castiel nodded. "I would like to. Though I'm not sure I'll be able to now. I haven't had a proper instructor for almost a year. I've continued my training, but I've worked alone."
Dean frowned, "Why? What happened?"
Castiel looked down, embarrassed. Most of their wealth had been his mother's. She had managed the family books meticulously while she was alive, always keeping his father's wanderings in check. Without her, his father had no sense of economy and spent much of their small fortune on "research" trips. It hadn't been long before they could no longer afford to keep an instructor.
"It wasn't practical after my mother passed away," he said simply, not wanting to go into the family details.
"You know, we always have extra space in our practice yards. Some of those moves I saw you using today...I'd love to learn a few myself. After all, I'm supposed to join the Hunters too."
It was true, When Dean turned eighteen - another two years by Castiel's reckoning - he would not only join the Hunters, but lead them. Prince Sam would do the same four years later, dividing the responsibility between the brothers. In many kingdoms, including the neighboring kingdom of Hellia, the royal family did not participate in the direct protection of the people. They weren't expected to become soldiers. But members of the Winchester line saw it as a duty, a family business, to hunt things and keep the people of the kingdom safe. Dean was still looking at him and Castiel realized he was supposed to understand something more from the previous statement. When Castiel didn't speak, Dean pushed further. "You're always welcome to come practice with us."
Castiel looked at Dean, surprise warring with delight.
"I would like that very much, thank you Dean."
Dean nodded as though that settled everything. "Perfect, the Captain expects everyone on the field at nine am sharp - will you be there tomorrow?"
It wasn't an order, but Castiel would still be there. He would make sure Anna would not need him for anything in the mornings for the foreseeable future.
