Eleven
Neither Dean nor Castiel spoke as they made their way down the wide hall, towards the grand oak door, the king and queen a few short steps behind them. A servant had been sent after John and Mary and another to Benny the second after Cas had read the letter. At the top of the stairs leading into the courtyard, the prince of Aether turned to the king.
"I apologize for having to leave sooner. Believe me when I say that I want nothing more than to see this alliance form." His voice was coarse, tired.
"It will," John assured him. "And you have no need to apologize to me."
They grasped each other's wrist as a farewell, and Castiel bowed to Mary before starting down the stairs. Dean left his mother's side and followed suit, easily falling into step with Cas.
"You sure about not taking any guards with you?" Dean asked as the two approached the centre of the courtyard.
"I will travel faster if I ride alone. Alatus will outrun any danger if necessary," the other assured him.
Dean stared at his emotionless face helplessly. "Cas-" He stopped, knowing his next words would be nothing but pure selfishness. "When will I see you again?"
He swore he saw Castiel's breath hitch. "I… I don't know," came Castiel's soft reply. "My brothers and I will have to arrange a funeral… Then there's the matter of Michael's coronation."
Dean nodded, not wanting to listen anymore. He tried to speak, but it was as if someone gripped his throat and stubbornly held on to it. Instead, he extended his arm.
Castiel barely spared it a second glance before grabbing Dean's cloak and pulling him closer. He brought their mouths together gently, savoring the feeling of Dean's soft lips, his warm breath against his cheek, their noses rubbing slightly. Dean's arm constricted around Cas' waist tightly until the latter was flush against his chest, and his mouth pushed roughly, demanding more from the last kiss they'd have in a while.
At the sound of hooves clapping against the cobbled ground, Castiel slipped out of Dean's arms and looked over his horse. The dapple-grey steed nickered softly and mouthed at the prince's hair when Benny brought him to a halt. Without wasting much time, Castiel settled into the saddle as Dean ran his fingers through Alatus' mane. Blue eyes met green, and for the first time since he had received the news, Cas smiled.
"Stay safe," Dean told him.
Castiel nodded, Alatus already starting to back up. He raised his gloved hand in salute to John and Mary while he kicked Alatus' sides, tugging the reins back and to the left. Dean took a step back, locking eyes with Cas once more, before the horse reared up slightly, turned around, and took off with a jump.
The sky was blanketed with only a few thinning clouds, giving the sun a chance to finally break through after several days of nonstop snowfall. A soft breeze lapped at Cas' hair, just a little chilly but refreshing at the same time. The snow-covered fields glittered all around him, twinkling like billions of tiny stars. The morning was cheerful, which only filled Castiel with bitter irony.
Alatus ran hard, his strong legs beating against the ground like thunder, bits of soil and ice shooting out from where hoof prints remained. His snorts condensed quickly, leaving barely visible trails as he galloped onwards.
Castiel's mind zipped from thought to thought. What had happened? Was it a heart attack, or had he passed away in his sleep? How were his brothers handling it? His heart clenched at the though of his eldest brother. Michael, who had to push away his grief in order to take up the crown, to stabilize his brothers as well as his people.
With Alatus carrying him and no one slowing them down, the ride did not last long. Castiel entered his land after no more than six hours. As he passed, he ignored the knights guarding the border between Aether and Ventoris. They would not have stopped him anyway, for Alatus was easily recognized as the youngest prince's horse on account of his speed.
Aether was smothered in snow, as he had predicted. Mountains of it were piled beside the road in attempt to free some sort of pathway, and branches of smaller trees bent under its weight.
He took no notice of the peasants either, their bows low as he rode through their villages. Each watched him with sullen, sympathetic eyes, banishing his doubts. They had already known.
Several times, he abandoned the road and cut through surrounding forests. He knew them from many years of wandering and exploring as a child, and still remembered well enough to form short cuts to the castle.
When he arrived at the palace walls, everything was much colder. The castle's characteristic blue flags were gone. Instead, long black drapes fluttered in the wind. Laments in Enochian, his mother tongue, could faintly be heard from inside the walls.
Castiel hadn't allowed Alatus a moment's rest until they rode over the stony bridge and beyond the metal gates. The dapple-grey stallion fell into a slow trot, then finally a walk. Both horse and rider were crippled with exhaustion, heads arched down. He saw Inias, the stable boy, sprint across the courtyard to greet him as another servant ran inside the castle to inform Michael of his arrival, Castiel assumed.
Inias caught the reins the prince had dropped when he climbed out of the saddle. A faint, "Your Highness," rang in Cas' ear, but he cut him off before he could finish.
"I require nothing else, Inias. Please, tend to my horse. That is all," he told him.
Inias nodded reluctantly and led Alatus to the stables. Castiel was left to walk alone. As he approached the stairs, realization came crashing down on him like a thunderstorm. He was finally home, and his father was dead.
The world slowed around him as he walked into the castle, feeling hollow. Inside, more black curtains were draped over the walls, cascading down to the floor. The singing was louder now, and he faintly understood the lyrics. They were in honor of his father, listing his most memorable victories, his kindness towards his people and his love for his country.
Castiel barely registered his name being shouted, instantly followed by the sound of boots pounding against stone. A flash of brown hair rushed to his side. Two hands steadied his shoulders, then one moved to lift his chin. Castiel looked up to the familiar and worn face of his brother. Gabriel's eyes were red and still wet around the edges, but the sight of his youngest brother brought a small smile to his face.
Castiel buried his face into his sibling's chest, finally releasing the tears that had been threatening to spill for over an hour. He felt like a child again, seeking the comfort of his brothers after injuring himself. He hated feeling so weak. Gasps wracked his body, shaking him uncontrollably down to his knees. He numbly felt arms wrap around his back, rubbing soothing circles into the fabric of his shirt.
"Shh, Cas. I got you," Gabriel murmured into his hair, causing his eyes to prick even more. "It's going to be OK. I promise it'll be OK."
