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Chapter warnings: blood and violence!
Chapter 25
Uldred is still consumed with his bitter thoughts when there is a knock on the door and it opens up. Distressed and frightened, Nolween rushes in, approaching her husband.
"Uldred," she cries desperately. "We cannot let Castiel fight with that monster!"
"I know," the king mutters quietly. "It's too risky."
"Maybe we should talk to him and change his mind? Maybe we can find other way to solve this problem?"
"Other way? Like what?" The king heaves a sigh.
"I don't know. But maybe we can come up with the other solution. I will not be able to stand if something happens to my son." Nolween trembles as her eyes tear up.
"Our son," Uldred corrects her. "Do you think I want it?"
"No, of course not." The queen shakes her head. "I am scared, Uldred. I am so scared for our boy!" She hugs her husband, burying her face in his chest and sobs quietly.
"Hush, don't cry," Uldred sooths her, caressing his wife's silky hair, which smells of delicate rose petals.
"Please, let's go and talk to him," she pleads the king.
"Alright, but with only one condition." Uldred pulls away, looking into Nolween's eyes.
"What condition?" the queen frowns slightly.
"That you will stop crying," Uldred smiles at her, wiping away the tears from Nolween's face.
The queen nods silently. "Fine," she adds in a low voice.
"Good," Uldred plants a kiss on her forehead. "Let us go then."
The sweat is trickling down his spine as the rippling muscles on his chest and biceps are taut from fervent movements. The blade in his hand slashes fluently through the air with precise and skilled flicks of his wrist.
How dared he? How dared that filthy barbarian insult him and his family at their own fortress? Castiel snarls with anger, throwing another strike at an invisible enemy. That's when his father and mother enter the exercising hall.
The young man lowers the blade, turning towards his parents.
"Father, Mother, is there something wrong?" he asks, concern filling up his blue eyes.
The king and the queen nod simultaneously, approaching their son.
"We would like to talk to you about the upcoming fight," Uldred begins.
"There's nothing to talk about," Castiel retorts, feeling where this is going.
"There is," Nolween insists. "Darling, we do not want you to fight."
"What? I already challenged the man and you are asking me to act like a coward?" the young prince exclaims heatedly.
"Castiel, we can find another way." Uldred almost begs his son. "If it's necessary I will go to him and beg on my knees. I will offer him half of the kingdom, where he can do whatever he likes just to save you."
"Save me?" Castiel stares at his father incredulously. "Are you saying that you do not trust me, father? Are you saying that I am not skilled enough to fight with that Barbarian? That I'm nothing?"
Nolween cuts in hurriedly after hearing the sharp pain in her son's voice. "No, no, of course not, Castiel!" she assures him. "You are the best warrior our kingdom has, we just don't want to risk, my son. You are the heir of the throne. Do you think we will be able to live if something happens to you?" She cups her son's face, looking into his eyes pleadingly.
Castiel's rage disperses after hearing his mother's words. He's never been able to stay angry at her.
"You have nothing to worry about," the prince assures his parents. "This fight should not be any different or more difficult than the others which I've had in past. I am confident enough and all I ask you is to trust me. The fight shall be held tomorrow at sunrise as agreed and this is my final decision."
Castiel turns his back to them, raising the blade once again, showing his parents that the conversation is over and there is nothing left to discus. He can hear his mother's weeping when Uldred takes her out of the hall and something breaks in his heart. And no matter how hard he tries to concentrate on exercising he still fails. In the end Castiel simply drops the blade and sits down on the floor, leaning against a wall. Tomorrow will be a fatal day. At least for someone.
At the earliest light of the day the whole fortress swarms and begins to fuss as the sound of the horn announces the arrival of a new day. The crowing of roosters, barking of dogs, and neighing of horses are all mixed up with loud shouts and the thudding of heavy boots. It's a very special day: the day when Castiel has to fight with the leader of Battle Shadows.
Uldred, Nolween, their daughters, Lord Robert and Bessabel all watch Castiel intently, worrying about his fate. As for the young prince, he is calm as ever. There is no trace of anxiety, fear or uncertainty in his behavior or speech.
Castiel had refused to wear the royal gilded armor which he inherited from his father and had chosen simple but strong steel of a rusty-brown color. As he'd been putting on arm bracers and greaves, Uldred, adapted to the fact that no force could make Castiel change his mind, handed his son the sword – The Devastator – once owned by Castiel's great grandfather, a loyal and unfailing servant of its owner.
Nolween and her daughters hug Castiel tightly, never wanting to let go. When the young prince frees himself from their embraces Bessabel puts his hand on the young man's head, mumbling foreign words, thus blessing and wishing him good luck.
The skies above are painted crimson with a bit of amber color in them. It seems like the gods have built an immense fire and the sparks will rain down, setting the human world ablaze.
The massive gates of the fortress open up and Castiel, together with the chosen hundred warriors, walk out. The king had threatened to do something awful had his son refused to take the warriors with him. Uldred knew well enough that those men wouldn't be of much help as only his son would fight, but still, it was some kind of a relief, knowing that there would be hundred warriors standing and watching the fight, ready should anything unexpected happen.
The chieftain of Battle Shadows is already there, waiting for his rival. Sam and a large group of his army are beside him. The younger Winchester is still stunned after hearing what his brother had demanded. He knows that Dean always liked pretty boys but to ask for the heir of the throne as his concubine is pure madness.
Castiel and his warriors stop when there's only thirty feet left between them and Dean.
"I see you are brave enough to face me and not run off," Dean smirks, throwing an amused look at Castiel. "What a courageous little soldier you are."
"I never break my word and I've come to end this nonsense once and for all. You have insulted me and my family at our own fortress with your impudence and arrogance. Prepare to die horribly, as this is the kind of death a filthy animal like you deserves," Castiel spits out.
"You are quick tempered and hot-blooded. I like it. I wonder if you're like this in bed too. I guess we shall find out soon." Dean chuckles and his warriors begin to burst into laughter behind his back. Sam just shifts awkwardly, feeling sympathy for the Vali Isuria's prince. The younger Winchester is more than sure that Castiel has no chance against his brother but seeing the young prince's face lose color from his brother's merciless taunting makes his heart wrench.
"Dean," Sam reprimands quietly. "Stop it."
"Oh, Sammy. Always with the soft heart," Dean rolls his eyes. "What, pitying the heir of the throne? Calm down, I am not going to kill him. Or maybe I will but in a different way." Dean snorts and takes off his cape with wolf's fur, throwing it at his brother. "Save your sympathies for later. When I capture him."
Dean steps forward with a shield and sword in his hand, studying his rival with a careful glance. Castiel throws a brief look at the walls of the fortress where his whole family and suit are sanding, watching the fight with utter fear and alarm.
"Are you ready to be mine, young prince? Do you surrender to my charms?" Dean asks playfully.
"Never. I prefer to die in this instant than to satisfy your dirty desires. I loathe you with my whole heart," Castiel growls low and dangerously. His eyes flash like stormy seas.
Dean clicks his tongue. "Those are not the words you will be moaning beneath me."
Castiel has had enough of Dean's teasing and with a mighty war cry he charges first. As if waiting for such reaction, not a single muscle moves on Dean's face. With an enviable calmness he blocks Castiel's strikes, looking unnerved and composed as never. The chieftain of Battle Shadows barely moves from the spot. It's like he's playing with the young prince, like a cat tossing around a mouse before eating it. Castiel feels the mocking and grits his teeth. His attack gets more forceful and determined. One of such attacks bears its fruit: the tip of Castiel's sword, swooshing through the air, slashes a cut on Dean's cheek.
"Hmm, a puppy showed its teeth," Dean smirks, wiping the blood off of his cheek with his thumb. "But the master always teaches the silly puppy how to behave."
As the wind blows, stirring the hair and cloaks of the spectators, Dean lunges forward, bringing his sword down on Castiel with such a mighty and brutal force that the prince of Vali Isuria needs to use all of his strength and skills to parry his rival's onslaught.
As they circle each other, trying to find weak spots, from one of the Dean's attacks Castiel trips over a large stone, kneeling on one knee and barely has time to raise his shield. Dean's sword comes crashing down on it, rattling the steel, leaving unpleasant ringing in Castiel's ears.
"Get up, I don't fight the fallen." Dean turns around, stepping away from Castiel.
"I don't need your mercy," Castiel says proudly, standing up and ready to continue.
As the fight goes on, the scales tip into Dean's favor; he's more experienced in battles and physically stronger. A sudden and unexpected kick in the stomach sends Castiel flying back and he thuds to the ground painfully. The shield falls out of his hand and Dean's foot sends it aside, out of the prince's reach. But Castiel quickly gets up, grabbing his sword with two hands, breathing heavily. His eyes measure Dean's every movement, calculating his possible next move. But nothing can prepare him for what's to come next: the barbarian's next strike smashes his sword into pieces. There are frightened shouts from the fortress as they witness the scene. Castiel frowns, looking down at the broken sword in his hand, the hilt to be precise. His shield is far away, his sword is broken and he's facing the man he hates with bare hands.
"Looks like the fate itself wants you to be mine," Dean says smugly. "Yield to me, little prince and I promise I won't hurt you." He smirks at the confused man.
Castiel swallows hard. There is no way he will agree to what Dean wants from him.
"You can go to the deepest pits of Underworld. What are you waiting for? Kill me, you son of a whore!"
All the blood and playful expression drains from Dean's face after hearing Castiel's last words. The amused look quickly changes into a stone cold killer's one. There is a fury, wrath and unruly rage behind his blazing emerald eyes.
Sam knows this look and he gasps; it does not mean anything good for his brother's rival. But before he can do anything, Dean throws his shield and sword aside, quickly approaching Castiel and grabbing him by the throat.
"Do Not Dare To Talk About My Mother Like That!" he yells into Castiel's face, accentuating every word, while his fist beats the prince in the face unceasingly.
After a few punches Castiel's nose and lips break, blood pouring out. He tries to remove Dean's hand from his throat but it feels like an iron vice. Castiel's mind and vision is getting cloudy from the barbarian's punches and the lack of oxygen when in the mass hysteria and shouts around them he clearly hears an earsplitting scream before he sinks into the black abyss.
Dean's raised fist which is ready to connect with Castiel's face one more time freezes in the air, when someone wraps themselves around his legs.
The chieftain of Battle Shadows looks down and sees Nolween at his feet. Dean swallows a lump in his throat when the woman raises her head.
"Please, spare my son's life. Take mine instead." She stares at him while tears are streaming down her face.
After a moment's hesitation Dean lowers his hand and lets go of Castiel. The young prince falls down on the ground, unconscious.
Dean wraps his hand around the queen's forearm. "My lady, stand up," he says hoarsely, helping Nolween to her feet.
As soon as she's up, the queen rushes to her son's side, cradling his face in her hands and sobbing over Castiel's unconscious body. She cleans the blood from his face, showering Castiel's forehead and cheeks with kisses.
Witnessing the tender moment between the mother and her son, Dean feels something tug painfully at his heart but he quickly comes to and turns around to face the walls of the fortress.
"As you can see I have won. According to our agreement you are to leave the fortress and go wherever you like. Castiel is my captive and is to stay at this fortress. As the gesture of my generosity I am allowing you to leave someone with him, who is willing to help the prince. Decide who that person will be." Dean's voice booms in the distance.
When no one answers him, Dean goes back to Castiel's body. He easily picks up the younger man's limp body, throwing it over the shoulder.
"Go to your family, Queen Nolween. They need you," he tells the distressed woman, while walking away with her son's body.
"Let's go!" Dean yells over his shoulder to his people. "This fortress is ours now!"
The skies above turn dark and ominous. The scarlet clouds gather and swell, ready to rip apart, so the rain of blood can flood the ground. A lonesome eagle flies above the group of people walking towards the gates of the fortress, cawing pitifully, as if crying over someone's fate. Or Castiel's fate…
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