Apologies, I meant to post this yesterday, but stuff has been happening because Christmas is totally a surprise to me every year somehow. Enjoy!

Chapter Three: Queen Anna

}O{

Dean had been confused when Sam had broken down in such close proximity to his goal. His sobbing had, of course, alerted the palace guards to the intruder, and if it hadn't been for Queen Anna stepping in and helping Sam, the guards surely would have thrown him in jail. Dean had held his breath tensely, unable to take comfort in Castiel's assurances that Sam would be fine as Sam was interrogated for many long minutes.

Anna had been expecting Sam, though, so when she realized there was a disturbance in her apartments, she had donned her robe and gone out to rescue Sam, who she found to be half out of his mind with fatigue and hunger. She had impressed upon the guards that had Sam meant her harm, he would already have done so, and that she couldn't conscionably place such a young man so obviously ill into her dungeon. Instead, she had instructed the guards to put him in one of the abandoned rooms he'd walked by earlier, with two guards at the door, and that she wanted to be alerted when he awoke.

To calm him for the night, she had given him warm honeyed milk to warm his belly and fill it until he was able to eat, and it had done the trick. He was out in moments.

Both she and Dean sighed in relief in their separate castles so far away from each other.

"See?" Castiel asked from behind him, a warm hand on his shoulder. "I told you my cousin would look after him."

"I thought the guards were going to hit him," Dean breathed, his heart still pounding a little.

As Sam recovered in Anna's palace, Dean went to work in Castiel's. Spying on Sam during his recovery had given him a few ideas for Castiel's lighting issues in the Great Hall. Instead of making a chandelier to hold candles, which burned out quickly and cast very little light, he followed a design he saw during his spying and made a contraption to hold hanging oil lamps. He designed four to go throughout the hall, all with clear glass lampshades that would bring more warmth into the cold, blue hall. It was exactly what Castiel could wish for.

As for Sam, he awoke after a day and a night of sleeping, ravenous and ill from going out into a snowy world with only a wool coat, clogs, and a nearly threadbare shawl for protection. His first day awake, he was too weak to answer most of the questions put to him and could only say that he was looking for his brother and that his brother must be at the palace.

The guards who had started out wanting to throw him head-first into a jail cell had been warmed by his beauty and his obvious love for this brother that he rambled about sadly, and soon they were begging their captain to ask the Queen or her consort to do something to help the poor boy.

When Sam was well enough to sit up and talk more, his sweetness and unassuming good manners further enamored him to the guards, and they began fattening him up with treats from the kitchens. Anna decided it was time to talk to him herself, though she already knew his story, and went to his room.

Sam stared at the beauty that had come to see him. Her red hair fell loose around her shoulders and down to her waist, and her gown was made of some sort of gold material that rustled when she walked. He had never seen anything so lovely in his life.

Sam was wearing a nightgown and robe as he had done since he had been incarcerated in this room, but he still slid out of bed and gave the best bow he could.

"Sam," she said. "Sam Singer, is it?"

Sam nodded, swallowing to try and bring moisture to his mouth. "Yes, Your Majesty." He looked up and found that she did not seem angry or frightened. She was, in fact, serene. He figured he might as well apologize, since it might be the last thing he ever did. "Ma'am, I am very sorry I disturbed you that night. I had thought my brother was here, and I have since learned he is not. If you will let me go, I promise to not darken your door ever again."

It probably would have been a great speech, had he not devolved into a coughing fit at the end of it. Anna sighed and motioned for the guards to help Sam back into bed and she tucked him back under the covers with her own hands.

"Sam, don't worry. I'm going to get you better, and then help you on your way. I'm very sorry, but the young man who has come here to see my husband and me is my younger brother, Samandriel. He had gone to war three years ago and we thought him dead in battle. His arrival was indeed shrouded in mystery and has not been widely heralded because we had to confirm his identity." She reached out and stroked Sam's face kindly. "Knowing how it feels to have a brother snatched from you, not knowing if he is dead or alive…I can think of few things that are worse than that. I do wish with all my heart that your brother was here."

Sam smiled sadly. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

}O{

Dean had been working hard for a week to enclose Castiel's wonderful little carriage and make it warmer and cozier than before. While Dean worked, hammering, melting, and fitting iron, Castiel went about his usual business of bringing winter to the world. They were still many weeks away from the solstice, but in Castiel's part of the world, snow had been raining down for longer than a month already, and in the lower regions, it was time to start spreading frost.

When Castiel was younger, he had disliked snow and frost. He had been more of a summer child, running through hill and dale with his cousins, growing brown and strong, learning to fish and swim. Winter was confining and cold, and his time was spent in his father's castle where he was forced to spend his days in the schoolroom, poring over boring equations and histories. He had asked his uncle, Zachariah, the old King Frost, what good winter was if everything died and froze under sheets of ice. Frost brought famine and death. What was the good of it?

His uncle had at first been upset at his impertinence. "The good of Frost, indeed!" Zachariah had exclaimed, his face growing red in his ire, and there was so very much of his face thanks to his shiny bald head. Castiel, a mere ten winters at the time, had been cowed. But Zachariah had calmed down shortly afterwards and started looking at his nephew in a different light after that. One day, he sat Castiel down and explained to him how some animals and plants must lay down and rest during the short winter days, and that in order for life to happen, some sort of death must also come, which was why winter was always followed by spring. "You may not like it, Castiel, but what happens during the winter prepares us for the rest of the year, just as your schooling will prepare you for the rest of your life."

Now that Castiel was older, he understood it all better. Winter was still not his favorite time of year (oh, how ironic that he inherited the title of King Frost, though it was possible his uncle used the title as some sort of punishment for an unknown wrong on Castiel's side), but he appreciated it better now, and bringing the bite of frost was no longer unappealing to him. He knew now that those who died would help replenish the earth, and that without him, many crops would not grow after a long winter rest.

"Ding-dong-ding!" a voice sing-songed from his mirror, pulling him from his thoughts. He recognized that voice. "Cassie, darling, are you decent?"

Castiel stood from his spot by the fire and found his cousin Balthazar, the North Wind, smiling handsomely at him. "Bal!"

"Ah, I knew you'd be around somewhere. Look, I was just blowing over a forest in Kiev when I saw a dear little thing all huddled in the snow and crying, hardly a stitch on her. I thought it might be your sort of thing."

Castiel frowned. This was one part of his job he didn't like. Every now and then, someone would take one of their children out and leave them "for Father Frost" in the woods as a sort of sacrifice. Castiel wasn't sure which of his ancestors started the practice, or if the humans started it and those in his line were simply obligated to obey it, but one of the rules of being a fairy tale creature was that when there was a tradition involving you, you were forced to obey it. Even if you found the practice barbaric.

"Thanks, Balthazar. I'll go and take care of her. Kiev?"

"Kiev," his cousin confirmed. "Good luck!"

Castiel passed his hand over his mirror and searched for the child. Looking for a human from the air was difficult, but if he could find some landmarks around her, such as fallen trees or a river, he could find her more easily once he was out flying.

He located her in his mirror, made some notes and went to find Dean. He figured his prisoner might want to see what he did day to day, and Dean had been working so hard lately, he really did deserve a break.

Dean was in the carriage house, using a deserted berth as his workshop, attaching the frame to Castiel's carriage. He had made it domed so that once he and Gabriel stretched canvas over it, it would resemble a pumpkin. It was a sort of joke between himself a Gabriel. When Castiel entered the room, he stopped short and stared at the contraption.

"It's round," he said flatly.

Dean smirked. "What, you've never heard of a pumpkin carriage?"

Castiel frowned. "I'm not a fairy godmother," he groused. "That's Aunt Naomi's domain."

Dean just laughed. "After we get it covered, you'll love it," he promised.

"Well, whatever you're planning on doing to it at the moment is going to have to wait, I must go to Ukraine right now. Would you like to come?"

Dean gave him one of those beautiful, white smiles that seemed to melt Castiel's very core. "I'd love to!"

Castiel found himself smiling back, and he almost sort of thought that in a strange sort of detached way, this outing might constitute as a date. He watched as Dean picked up his tools and put them away, then cleaned off the seat of the carriage. Castiel sat himself inside, smiling when Dean sat down beside him. It reminded him of their trip to the castle a few weeks earlier, only this time Dean was dressed warmly in a long coat and lined, hooded cloak. Castiel handed him gloves to help protect his hands as they flew, and Dean put them on. One more smile at each other, and they were off.

Dean had been nearly blind on the night Castiel brought him to his castle since it had been a starless night, but this was bright daylight, and he was finally able to see the mountain he'd been living on. It seemed beautiful from where he was sitting, lush and heavily wooded, currently covered in snow, but he wasn't getting an impression of loneliness or isolation. He had somewhat assumed that Castiel was living as a nomad in a far-away place without people or beast, and yet he saw houses, farms, lakes, herds of cows, goats, villages, and all other signs of life.

"This is beautiful," Dean murmured, leaning forward to look down over the front of the sleigh.

"You should see it in the summer," Castiel said with a smile. "It's so green, and the children run and play so happily in the sunshine."

Dean smiled, touched by how wistful Castiel sounded. His face was getting cold and he wanted to pull his hood down, but staring at Castiel as the wind whipped through his hair was too entrancing. He sidled closer and leaned against the warm solidity of Castiel's body. He knew that Castiel rarely got cold, only when his power had burnt out, so he wasn't surprised to find heat radiating off of him, even though he was dressed simply in only his robe and waistcoat rather than an actual jacket.

"Are you cold?" Castiel asked, wrapping his arm around Dean.

In answer, Dean nuzzled his cold nose into Castiel's cheek, making him jump a little and laugh. Dean was warmed from the inside at the sound. He was tired of being rebuffed by Castiel at every turn, and the only thing that really kept him trying was the fact that it was obvious Castiel liked him. Dean would often catch him staring at him, a look of longing on his face, clearly attracted. He also never told Dean that he didn't want Dean. It was always that Dean would someday regret wanting Castiel. Dean didn't see how that was possible. He was aware that he was under an enchantment, but he was also aware that Castiel wasn't happy about it. Dean was pretty sure that once the enchantment was broken, he'd not blame Castiel at all. How could he when it seemed that King Frost was as much a victim of the curse as anyone else?

Dean leaned down and continued to snuggle into his king while watching the world pass them by. Tentatively, Dean pressed his cold lips to Castiel's neck to gauge his reaction and was heartened when the other man hummed and tightened the arm around Dean's shoulder. Feeling encouraged, Dean worked his way up Castiel's strong jaw, smiling when Castiel turned his head and met his lips.

"I need to concentrate," Castiel chuckled, setting Dean away from him and turning back to the scenery in front of them.

Dean probably would have let it go, but the loss of Castiel's body heat against him was making him shiver, so he snuggled close once more, this time wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist and getting slightly behind him so that they both could face forward, and the position put his lips at a very good angle and height to kiss Castiel's long, elegant neck at the same time. Castiel made a small noise of protest at first, but then he placed his hand on Dean's knee and held it there until he directed the sleigh down into a wooded area where a small, beautiful girl was currently shivering against a small snow flurry.

Castiel motioned for Dean to stay where he was and approached the poor thing. She was hardly dressed well for the summer let alone the late autumn and was already soaked through and turning blue.

"Hello, Child," Castiel said in his low, gravelly voice.

The poor girl dipped to a curtsey. "H-hello, sir," she stuttered back, looking around, lost. A thin shawl was all she had to cover her shoulders, which were collecting a good amount of snow since she had clearly given up moving several minutes ago.

"Are you cold?" he asked, aware of his role in this play.

"N-no," she insisted. "I am quite well, thank you, sir."

In response, Castiel called in some wind and snow to fly around them. "Are you sure you're not cold?" he asked again, a little louder.

She shook her head. "No, I assure you, I am fine, but I thank you for asking."

Castiel brought even more wind and snow and reiterated the question for the third and final time. The poor mite nearly fell over from the force of the gale assaulting her, but still insisted that she was perfectly well.

This was always a pleasurable one. He smiled and halted the snow, snapped his fingers, and created a huge bonfire for her.

"For being such a good child, I will reward you," he said, unclasping his robe at the neck and removing it so that he was left only in his waistcoat. "Here, this will keep you warm," he said as he placed the heavy robe, now hot with his body heat, around her shoulders. "Are you hungry?"

Her blue eyes grew wide under her golden brows. "Oh, no, please sir! You have been more than generous!"

Her protest brought a feast fit for a king and steaming hot drinks that were enchanted to stay hot until she finished them.

"Sir, you are too kind. My father has promised to return for me soon, will you not stay to shake his hand?"

Castiel smiled at her and stroked his hand over her golden hair. "You are a very sweet girl, my dear, but I cannot stay. I will leave you with a gift, however." Another snap of his fingers brought a beautiful trunk, filled with fabric and other necessities a lady of the time might need to make herself a trousseau. "I have enchanted this and all the items within that they will always be yours. No one can take them from you forcefully. Continue to be a good girl, Maruska, and good will come to you."

Maruska, for that was indeed her name, gasped and curtsied again, this time much more gracefully since she was warmer. "I know your name as well, for you must be Father Frost!"

Castiel gave a flamboyant bow. "You have named me true, child. Now I will take my leave. And tell your father that the next time he decides to leave one of his daughters out in the wilderness, she may not fare as well as you!"

He went back to his carriage where Dean was watching the proceedings with interest and took off once more, back to his domain in the mountains.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked. "Why was she just out there in the middle of nowhere?"

Castiel let Dean wrap himself around him again, once more placing his hand on Dean's knee where he was turned into him. "Sometimes, parents will drop one of their children out in the middle of nowhere to freeze to death. Sometimes they have too many children, sometimes a jealous stepmother wants to be rid of the burden of her stepdaughter, sometimes they truly think they're making a sacrifice to me. It's my job to test the child and see if he or she is worthy, and if they are, I reward them. If not, they freeze to death."

Dean grew quiet as he mulled this over. "They freeze to death?"

Castiel nodded. "Sometimes. I do not like it, but I am bound to the Old Ways as long as there are those who believe in them."

"I…I understand," Dean said after a moment.

Castiel sighed. "Do you? Because I don't. A lot of the times, I don't. I'm forced to take in people like you who are guilty of no more than looking outside on the first frost of the year and wait for them to be rescued. My uncle, the old king, used to just let those like you freeze to death in his castle. I am bound to keep you until Sam comes to rescue you, Dean. The only reason I am bound to do this is because it was told in a tale at some point long ago, and it became a legend. Now I am forced to continue it until it ends."

Dean stroked his hand over Castiel's chest, landing it on his heart. "When they stop believing, will you die?"

Castiel placed his hand over Dean's. "No, I have a longer lifespan than you, but even if the legend ends within my lifetime, I will still bring snow to the world. When I die, I will pass my title on to someone else."

Dean frowned. "You're going to get married and have kids?"

Castiel's chest tightened. Dean sounded so jealous. "Married, maybe," he said after a moment. "But children would be out of the question. I like only men, Dean."

Dean lifted his head from Castiel's shoulder. "So it's just me that you don't like then."

He sounded so forlorn and lost. "Dean, I like you a great deal. I am, in fact, quite attracted to you."

"But," Dean prodded.

"But," Castiel sighed heavily. "But I don't know how much of your infatuation is the curse, and how much is you. I can't, Dean. I can't be responsible for breaking your trust like that. It's bad enough that you're here."

Dean scowled. "Why won't you just let me—"

"I'm alone, Dean," Castiel snapped. "I'm alone in my castle, forced to bear the burden of being a near-deity. The only people I see aside from my family are folks like you who as soon as they are freed from their curse, would rather never see me again. If I were to love you, it wouldn't matter one whit to you once this is all over. You'll go back to your life, and I'll still be stuck here, alone, like always. So forgive me for not giving into you. I'm sorry you've finally found the one pair of knickers you can't worm your way into. It's not that I don't want to; it's that I can't." It came out much harsher than he had planned, and one look at Dean's stricken face made him soften towards the boy. "Look, Dean, I'm sorry, I—"

Dean shook his head and moved away from Castiel. "It's okay. I understand."

"When Sam comes and breaks the curse, you'll be thankful that nothing happened between us."

Dean snuggled back into Castiel. He'd show him. He'd show him that he wanted him of his own volition.

In Slavic fairy tales, there's a sort of Two Sisters tale (Aarne-Thompson type 480) where a stepdaughter is left to freeze in the cold, and Father Frost comes and tests her, then gives her gifts. The stepmother, on seeing this marvel, sends her biological daughter to Father Frost. She is rude and Father Frost freezes her to death. I would imagine Castiel would hate this task.

As for Sam's part of the story, Gerda originally happened upon a prince and princess who slept in flower cradles covered with gigantic leaves. If you've never read The Snow Queen, it really is a cute story and very fanciful.