A/N: IDK, I'm writing Destiel. It just seemed appropriate for the cracky fairytale adventure. #mentallyunfaithfultomyotp #iblamemisha #especiallybecauseof t-w-i-t-p-i-c-.c-o-m[SLASH]dfb0gb
Charlie
Now that Charlie knew for sure that Dean was in love with the Prince, her affection for him increased manifold.
"Have you ever loved a lady?" she demanded, as soon as they were alone at the inn.
"Yes," said Dean: "frequently."
"I mean iloved/i," Charlie rolled her eyes. "Not tumbled."
"Charlie," Dean sighed. He was inspecting his new weapons, probably for a reason not to look at her: "Sam and I….look, our lives are complicated. Before we came to the North, we'd never even stayed I one place for more than a moon's cycle."
"Because you're adventurers," Charlie said.
"That's one way to put it," Dean smiled unhappily.
"You are," Charlie insisted. "Didn't you slay the Dragon of Vandor, who held his captives in thrall with the power of his mind?"
"Yeah yeah," said Dean uncomfortably. "Look – since our father – since our father died, me and Sam kind of felt like we had to….finish what he started. So we killed the Dragon. It took years to track him down, and the whole time, he was sending his minions to hunt us as well. Sam was pretty much a kid, and I wasn't much older when dad – you know. So – we've been kind of busy. Haven't had much time to – get attached to people."
"Until now."
"Until now," Dean echoed.
"It's so unfair," Charlie sighed. "You deserve a chance to be happy and marry your True Love. If only Cas were a girl, or you were a girl, you could get married at the end and the city would rejoice and all that."
"Yeah, well, life's not fair," Dean said. "I'll settle for rescuing Cas and restoring the North."
"You shouldn't have to," Charlie said stubbornly.
"So what about you?" Dean was deflecting, but at least he wasn't shutting off conversation. "Got a lady to impress back home with your daring adventures?"
"No," Charlie said. "I thought – I thought I was in love once." It came out in a rush, so wonderfully strange to say it out loud like that, the perversion she'd thought herself entirely alone in. "She was the younger daughter of a visiting lord, and I was to attend her, but she – didn't want to be attended. She wanted a friend. She was lonely. And beautiful. And she could ride horses and was the best archer in the fiefdom."
"Joanna Harvelle," said Dean.
Charlie stared. "How did you know?"
"You're not as subtle as you think you are."
Charlie was horrified. "Do you think – did anyone suspect –"
"I doubt it," said Dean. "It was more obvious to me I guess because – well, we're the same like that. Plus I knew Jo pretty well."
"Knew?"
Dean looked stricken. "Charlie – didn't you – no-one told you?"
"Told me….what?"
"I'm sorry," Dean said gently. "Charlie – she's dead. All the Harvelles are. Their citadel was sacked by Azazel's raiders two years ago."
Pause.
"Oh."
Charlie blinked, and her fingers clenched the bed covers. There were tears in her eyes. Noblemen fought and died every day, and she'd met Joanna just once, four years ago, and spent less than a moon's turn in her company. She'd thought she'd been in love with her but really – it was an infatuation. It had to be. Could she mourn a girl she'd never known? Joanna had been dead for two years, and her life had in no way been affected. Well – she could be grieved because a good young person had died pointlessly, stupidly, in the never-ending cycle of violence nobles seemed intent upon perpetuating. But this wasn't the time. Not yet. She swallowed hard.
"If you're…like this….and I'm….like this," she said instead: "There must be more of us."
Dean glared. "I'm not like anything."
"Mmm-hmm."
"Go to sleep, Charlie."
"Maybe we could have a secret wedding for you and the Prince. If there are other people like us, don't you think there must be a priest somewhere who would understand?"
"I don't want a wedding! I'm not a girl, Charlie!"
"Can I be the ringbearer? I think I should be the ringbearer. Sam can be the best man and Chuck can be….um…well, Chuck can be in it too, somehow."
"Stop talking."
Charlie stopped. She closed her eyes and imagined a secret wedding for Dean and Cas, maybe outdoors in spring. Later, she would grieve for Joanna and the Harvelles, but this was better to sleep on.
The next few days were rather horrible – what with the escape, and then having to kill the brigands, and the general slog of winter travel. Once they got the brigands horses under them, the ride to the White Spear went rapidly, and they crossed without incident. They hadn't dared stop in another town, and so no pigeon had been sent. Two more days of gruelling travel, and then, the spires of Gabriel's castle loomed bright in the distance.
"Wait – is that his flag?" said Chuck. Charlie squinted. From the pointed turrets flew a stripy rainbow standard.
"That's Gabriel," said Sam.
"I'm starting to like this guy," said Charlie.
Before them lay an expanse of grey-green marsh.
"Oh great, a swamp," said Chuck. "Just what I wanted to finish a terrible journey with."
"Maybe there's a ferry," Charlie said.
"We're out of money," said Sam.
"Halt! Who goes there?"
The Winchesters held their hands up, away from the hilts of their weapons. Four knights on horseback approached.
"My name is Sir Samuel Winchester," said Sam, "This is my brother, Dean," said Sam. "These people are under our protection. We have business with your lord, Gabriel."
The knights looked at them and then looked at each other. Charlie supposed the Winchesters didn't look much like legends at the moment. All four of them were filthy, bedraggled, and the men had short rough beards. Chuck had a large piece of blackberry bush sticking out of his hair.
"We're exiled," said Charlie.
"What business?" asked the knight who seemed to be in charge.
"None of yours," returned Dean.
The knight put a hand on his pommel and Sam said quickly,
"We only seek an audience. You are most welcome to escort us, and take our weapons."
"Sam!" Dean said.
Sam shrugged. Charlie supposed he had a point. Force would get them no further now – what they needed was allies.
The guards confiscated all weapons, then after a brief search, marched the four to a cluster of boats at the edge of the swamp. They pushed off with long poles, like barges, and only two passengers could go apiece. As Gabriel's castle came up close, Charlie could make out more of its idiosyncrasies. It seemed a medley of curling intricate structures, many kinds and colours of stone. The rainbow banner streamed from several windows. Charlie was reminded of confection trays the cooks brought out at winter feast.
The impression was consolidated when they marched inside the keep. The interior was richly decorated in blue, pink, red, green, purple, silver and gold. The scent of sugar syrup hung heavily in the air. The High Hall continued sweetbox theme, and they seemed to have interrupted a party: golden braziers were lit up and down the walls, and men and women in colourful clothes danced, laughed and talked loudly. The dais was empty.
"Sam! Dean!"
A female voice. Charlie turned – and found herself almost face to face with the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life. She stared. Her jaw dropped. She felt like there were little hearts in her eyes, and the God of Love had pierced her with his golden arrow. The woman had red hair, deeper and richer in colour than Charlie's (which she had often thought of, peevishly, as 'orange'). She wore it long and loose. Her skin was pale, and her eyes dark. She was dressed in a gown of forest-green velvet, a silver circlet on her brow.
"Anna! I mean, my Lady."
Dean actually seemed to be caught off guard.
"These men sat they have business with my Lord Gabriel, Lady," the knight said.
"These imen/i are Sam and Dean Winchester," said the Lady archly, and Charlie plainly heard Dean mutter, 'told you ."Allow them and their squires to bathe and dress –" her eyes flicked briefly – so briefly – over Charlie – "Then bring them to the Lesser Council Chamber. I will apprehend my brother." She added the last part grimly, then swept away with the combination of grace and force Charlie had always dreamed of.
TBC