Samandriel had been grateful when Benny hadn't made any comment about what had happened the next morning, and even more grateful the next night, when Benny sat next to him on the bed again, staying there until Samandriel fell asleep. He wasn't sure why Benny was doing it, and was didn't want to ask for fear it would cause him to stop, but over the next few weeks it slowly became a comfortable routine.
The only times Benny wasn't at Samandriel's side now was when he joined his siblings for meals, something that Samandriel was finding less and less enjoyable recently, primarily because Michael now deemed them necessary so he could keep them all updated on the war that was creeping ever closer over the horizon.
"The fighting is getting heavier at the Purgavain border," Michael was telling them now. Samandriel rubbed tiredly at his forehead and prodded at his dinner with disinterest. He hadn't been hungry, but Michael was insistent that he be present. If something that was said reminded Samandriel of anything he may have said during his captivity Michael wanted to be the first to hear about it.
Samandriel, to his own great relief and Michael's growing annoyance, had not remembered anything further about his ordeal.
"-that right, Samandriel?"
Samandriel jumped at the sound of his name, guiltily looking over at an expectant Anael. He'd tuned out their conversation completely. "What's right?"
She rolled her eyes. "That it would be more effective if we had Humaear circle behind the Purgavains so that we could trap them in the mountains."
He nodded. "That'd be the best course of action." Seriously, what else was Michael intending to do? Let the Purgavains keep coming and pick them off one by one?
"Did I ask either of you for your opinions? Anael, you've never been in anything even vaguely resembling a military operation and Samandriel can't fight anymore. You two aren't part of this." Michael turned away from the both of them without even glancing at Samandriel.
The words stung like Michael had slapped him across the face. He knew he couldn't fight anymore, everyone knew by now, but he'd thought he still had some value as a strategist. He'd been good at that before… hadn't he? A shudder forced its way through him, but other than that he managed to keep his inner turmoil out of his body language and off his face.
He could walk without his leg bothering him now, although running was still difficult, and his scars were finally healed over enough for him to remove the last of his bandages, although the scars still stood out, ugly against his light arms. Pamela had told him they'd likely be permanent and berated him as ungrateful for asking. Once, Samandriel had thought he'd wear scars as a badge of pride. Now they were just a constant reminder of the fact that he still couldn't force his hands to clench into proper fists, especially if he wanted them to hold something.
Dinner ended at last and it took all of Samandriel's self-control to not sprint out the doors and back to the safety of his room. Bitterly, he wondered why Michael was insisting he be at dinner if he was going to be so quick to discount his opinions as useless. Had he really been reduced to only having the potential to be helpful, and only if he remembered what he may or may not have told his torturers?
"Samandriel!" A hand grasped his shoulder, pulling him back. Gabriel was attached to it, looking apologetic. "He shouldn't have said that, about you not being a part of this because you can't fight. You're worth a lot more than your ability to hold a sword."
Well, he certainly hoped so, seeing as how that ability was now nonexistent. He forced a smile though, in part because he knew Gabriel meant well, but mostly because he thought it would be the fastest way to end the conversation. "Thank you, Gabriel."
His brother smiled back, his looking no less forced than Samandriel's felt, and squeezed his shoulder before walking away. Samandriel made his escape, carefully dodging Castiel, who would undoubtedly want to offer comfort and condolences as well.
Of course, if he wanted to prevent himself from being questioned, it would have been best for him not to have slammed his door shut behind him and lean against it with a relieved sigh.
"Did something happen at dinner?" Benny's Purgavain accent drawled out almost as soon as the door was shut.
Samandriel froze. He and Benny had come to an agreement a few days ago, compromising that Samandriel didn't have to talk about what was going through his head and Benny wouldn't pester him about it, but if Samandriel did something that made it obvious he was upset he wasn't allowed to lie and say it was nothing. Slamming the door and collapsing against it qualified as making it obvious that he was upset.
"I guess you could say that," Samandriel said, pushing himself off the wood and sitting on the edge of his bed. He started tugging his boots off. "Michael just said something that got to me, that's all."
Benny sat down next to him, giving him a look torn between sympathy and an expression that said Benny wasn't buying any of his overly flippant bullshit. "What did he say?"
"Well, it's not so much what he said as what he implied." He tossed his boots across the room, not caring where they landed.
"What did he imply then?"
Samandriel flopped over backwards and waited until Benny moved so he could see his face, which was slightly amused now. "You're really annoying sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"
Benny shrugged. "You're avoiding the question."
Samandriel blew out a huff of air and stared at the ceiling. He'd become well acquainted with it over time, as it seemed to be his favorite place to look when he didn't want to talk. "He made a comment about me not being needed anymore because I can't fight. I know it's true, but… I didn't like being reminded."
"Samandriel." There was a bite to Benny's voice and it pulled Samandriel up to a sitting position again, tilting his head in confusion. Benny made a point of making eye contact with him. "You aren't useless just because you can't pick up a sword. There's a lot more to you than that."
"Right." Samandriel couldn't help the skepticism in his voice. He was a fighter. He'd been a fighter for as long as he could remember. Now he wasn't. "That's why my family is treating my like a high-maintenance dog since I got home."
"If they think it makes you useless they're wrong. Besides, didn't you say that most of them have practically no knowledge of how to fight? Or at least not beyond the basics? Why do you have to be so good at it?"
Samandriel's head was suddenly filled with images of his father, smiling with pride as Samandriel showed off with his practice swords and later his real ones, nodding with approval the day Samandriel got fitted for his first set of armor. His voice telling Samandriel how proud he was to finally have a child who not only could understand military tactics but actually enjoyed everything that came along with being a soldier.
He wanted to be sick.
"Samandriel?" Benny sounded concerned now, instead of angry. "What is it?"
"I miss my father," he responded, the words spilling out before he realized he was even thinking them. Something hard was lodged in his throat and his eyes were stinging.
A quiet 'oh' came from Benny, but he didn't say anything that was directly addressed to Samandriel. Instead, he inched closer until their shoulders were almost touching. There was an arm resting behind Samandriel and he knew that if he leaned back Benny would use it to catch him. He almost wanted to fall just to give Benny an excuse. Being comforted sometimes sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world and sometimes the rugged Purgavain man seemed to be a master at it.
He didn't lean in to get more contact though. "It's been an awful six months. Ever since Lucifer started talking about going to war everything has been awful. I keep thinking it's about to get better, that things can only go up from here, and then everything crumbles down again."
"It'll get better," Benny assured him in a soft voice. "It may take a while, but it will. I promise."
"Did things get better for you after your fiancé died?" The words were intended to hurt, to make Benny leave him alone before he started to cry.
They weren't intended to make Benny's hand appear on his knee with a soft squeeze. "I've met you, haven't I?"
Samandriel looked up so fast he and Benny nearly knocked heads. He wasn't expecting the man's face to be no more than a few inches away, eyes sincere, with no trace of a joke in them. Samandriel swallowed, hard, finally forcing his way past the lump that had formed there. He licked his lips, suddenly feeling as though they'd gone very dry. "That was more sentimental than I was expecting," he offered weakly.
"You bring it out in me," Benny replied, so quietly that Samandriel would never have heard him had he not been breathing the same air, and the older man moved his head again, closing the small gap between their mouths.
Samandriel gasped in surprise and pulled back instinctively. The kiss had been so light and so short that he could almost imagine it hadn't even happened, that it had been a figment of his imagination. The tingling sensation on his lips, however, reassured him it wasn't.
Benny hadn't moved, appearing to wait for a reaction more stable than one brought on by surprise. The room was silent, but in a deafening and thick sort of way. Their breathing and his own heartbeat were the only things Samandriel could hear but he could hear them as clearly as if they were screams.
"You all right, little bird?" Benny asked after an immeasurable amount of time had gone by. It was lower than a whisper, but seemed loud due to its sudden appearance in the quiet.
Was he? It was hard to tell these days. Samandriel inched forward again, even more slowly than Benny had, closing the gap again. This time there was no mistaking the fact that it was a kiss.
"I know I'm not exactly the expert on military tactics, but does any of this seem strange to you?"
Castiel was bent over Balthazar's desk, looking over papers and maps detailing strategies and troop movement, while Balthazar sprawled out on his bed, extremely drunk.
"How should I know? I don't read that stuff, you know that." The older Novak took another drink from the bottle he'd dug up from a cache he kept under some loose stones in his floor. Castiel wasn't sure why he bothered to hide it, but had decided it was one of those things best left unquestioned.
"It is strange," Castiel said, answering his own question. "I know I haven't been paying extremely close attention to Michael and his war discussions, but some of these numbers aren't adding up."
Balthazar struggled to sit up, nearly falling off the bed in the attempt. Once he stabilized himself he looked over at Castiel and huffed his annoyance at being forced to join Castiel's discussion. "Since you're clearly not planning on leaving my room until I ask, just what is it that's so strange?"
"This!" Castiel pointed to the papers strewn across his desk, but Balthazar didn't budge. The younger man rolled his eyes before explaining. "Some of the troop deployments don't make sense, Balthazar. And some of it doesn't match what I've heard Michael telling Ambassador Kevin. It's almost like-" He broke off, realizing what he was about to accuse his older brother of.
Unfortunately for Castiel, nothing grabbed Balthazar's attention like someone not wanting to talk about something. He sat up drunkenly, long limbs making the sight somewhat comical. "Almost like what?"
"Nothing. I'm probably being paranoid." Castiel started piling the papers on top of each other, planning to make his escape.
Balthazar could move very fast for a drunk person. "You're never paranoid. Almost like what?" He was standing between Castiel and the doorway now, and for the life of him Castiel couldn't work out how he'd managed it so quickly.
He sighed in defeat. "It almost seems as though Michael wants Humaear to lose their battles."
Balthazar frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He tells them he's sending troops to a certain place, but this makes it look as though he's sending less than he promised or he's purposefully sending them too late, or… It doesn't make sense."
"It makes more than you'd think." Balthazar leaned against the desk, likely because he was too drunk to stay on his feet without help for much longer. "It's like fighting a war with three countries, except one of them is helping you while you dec- while you kill them."
"You really think Michael would do that?"
"I think I'm more scared of Michael than I ever was of Lucifer." Balthazar wandered back over to his bed and flopped down and was snoring a few seconds later. Castiel piled up everything he'd been looking over and left. He returned the paperwork to Michael's office and started to traipse through the mostly empty castle halls, wide awake despite the late hour.
Would Michael really allow prejudice to dictate his choices? Lie about his plans so Humaear would be destroyed as they tried to help Edengar fight? Bile rose in Castiel's throat and he shuddered. He didn't want to believe it, but it wasn't so far-fetched, not really. Michael, whatever else anyone thought of him, had always been considered ruthless. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing had been argued about, but everyone had always agreed it was one of his most notable traits.
Ruthless enough to potentially destroy an entire other country though? Castiel found himself, as he often did when he stopped paying attention to his surroundings, at the smithy. Dean had gone to bed already, but Cas let himself in and made his way up the stairs to Dean's bedroom.
The man was sprawled out, only partially covered by his blankets as the night was warm, snoring softly and his mouth hanging open. Castiel smiled softly at the sight. He didn't often see Dean like this. They rarely had the chance to spend the night together, Cas always concerned that one of his siblings or a guard or servant would notice something unusual. They'd become even rarer in the last six months, what with all the Novak family troubles that had demanded Castiel's attention, or at least caused others to keep a closer eye on him.
He didn't want to wake Dean up, just wanted the company of someone who didn't come with strings and politics attached, so he did his best to slide into the other side of the bed without too much commotion.
Dean rolled over at the new presence, eyes fluttering open for a moment. "Who's-Cas?" he asked, voice thick with sleep.
Castiel smiled and leaned over for a quick kiss. "Just me, Dean. Go back to sleep."
Dean gave a tired nod and did just that, squirming a little to bring himself closer to Cas. Castiel put an arm around his shoulders, willing his mind to quiet from it's suspicions and focus on where he was and how Dean was there too. That was the only important thing right now, he assured himself. He maneuvered a bit, finally making himself comfortable with his head resting on Dean's shoulder, and shut his eyes.
Dean had almost expected to wake up and find that he'd imagined Cas coming to see him in the middle of the night, but when he opened his eyes the prince was still there, curled up against his side, head on his shoulder. Dean smiled down at him. It was a nice sight, one he only wished he could see more often. He hated to wake him, Castiel looked so peaceful in his sleep, but the sun was peeking in through the windowpanes and that meant Castiel had to return to the main part of the castle before someone started getting suspicious.
"Cas." Dean nudged the other man lightly, not wanting to jerk him awake unpleasantly. Cas just muttered something Dean couldn't make out and burrowed back into the blankets. "Cas." Louder this time. "Hey, Cas. You have to get up."
"I don't want to," Cas finally said, still not moving. "Your bed's comfortable."
Dean chuckled. "I'm sure yours is better."
"Mine's too big. And nobody's in it."
"You old romantic." He kissed the top of Castiel's head and got out of bed, earning first a pleased sound and then a noise of protest at the sudden lack of warmth. "It's morning, Cas. You have to go."
Cas sat up, crossed his arms over his chest, and pouted. "I hate having to do this."
"I know." Dean leaned over for another kiss and Castiel managed to return it while remaining angry. "Did something happen last night? You've never shown up in the middle of the night like that before."
Cas looked around before answering, as though concerned he'd see someone lurking in the wardrobe. "If I tell you you have to keep it secret."
"Of course."
Cas looked around again, and Dean began to grow concerned. Was Castiel about to tell him some state secret he wasn't supposed to know about? It didn't sound like him, but with everything that had been happening to the Novak family Dean felt that there wasn't much left to surprise him. He knew from experience that family could make you crazy, he was amazed at how well Cas had been holding himself together.
"I think Michael may want Humaear to be defeated in the war."
"What? Cas, that doesn't make any sense, Humaear and Edengar are allies. Why would the king want them defeated?"
"Balthazar said something about it being like fighting three countries but you only have to really fight two. I don't know, Dean, but I was looking over some of the maps and orders and things because I was helping Michael with some work since he and Gabriel can't talk to each other without screaming, and it just doesn't look right."
"You really think he's betraying Humaear?"
Cas nodded miserably and Dean couldn't blame him. Cas hated the idea of war, and going against your word like that would be unthinkable to the man. Besides, he'd gone through quite enough with his family; one of his brothers possibly making a bad war worse by going back on his word would be enough to drive some people out of their minds.
"I-I really don't know what to say to that."
Cas sighed, shoulders slumped. It was one of those moments that made Dean think he didn't look at all like a prince. "You don't have to say anything. I just needed some comfort last night, and-" He smiled, sad but genuine. "And you were comforting."
Cas leaned forward to kiss him again, smiled goodbye, and the prince slipped out the door to the smithy, back to the main part of the castle.
Castiel's brain was switching between 'Michael would never do something like that' to 'Oh, yes, he would,' so quickly that he didn't have time to build up either side of the argument. The thoughts chased each other around and around his mind like dogs chasing their tails and didn't bother forming into something he could grab onto and study before they flitted away and were replaced by the opposing side.
He needed to tell somebody. But who? Michael was the king, it wasn't as though there was much anyone could do. And what if he was wrong? What if he caused a nationwide uproar over a hunch and some vaguely suspicious paperwork that turned out to be just a big misunderstanding?
Needing somewhere to think, away from the pressing walls of the castle that were filled with too much sentiment and emotional bias, Castiel made his way to the stables, saddling up his horse while his mind continued to race a million miles away.
"Good morning, Castiel," a voice greeted behind him, and it sounded so cheerful that Castiel almost didn't recognize it.
He turned around to see Samandriel, who looked, while not necessarily happy, certainly much less miserable that he had ever since returning from Purgavai. "Hello, Samandriel. How are you?" It was also odd to see him out of his room, and even odder for him to be out of the castle altogether.
"I'm… Not bad." Which sounded like both the truth and a major improvement.
"Good. That's good. Where's…" His question was answered before he could finish asking it, as Benjamin Lafitte came around the corner, coming to stand beside Samandriel. "Ah. There. Hello, Benny."
Benny nodded a polite greeting. "Hello, Prince Castiel."
They were standing abnormally close to each other, Castiel thought. Perhaps Samandriel felt safer with Benny nearby. He wasn't sure if that was necessarily a good thing, but he wasn't going to complain so long as Samandriel continued to look happier. "What are the two of you doing?"
"Getting fresh air," Samandriel said. "I haven't been leaving the castle very much recently."
Castiel had noticed. "That's good. I was going to go for a ride, would you like to join me?" Samandriel's company would be nice. He was frequently the easiest to talk to of all his brothers. Anael was good company as well, but lately she'd been nearly impossible to find. Castiel had started to wonder if she was sneaking off to see someone.
"I-" The relaxation on Samandriel's face suddenly dropped away, tension filling lines Samandriel was too young to have. "Oh. Feorh's dead. I forgot about that." He had a stunned expression now, like he'd forgotten that there had been death around him; that he, in his own mind at least, had gotten off easier than the rest of his patrol.
"I'm sure we can find you a different horse," Castiel offered, wishing he hadn't said anything. Comfort had never been a great skill of his. He seemed to do well enough with Dean, but he was out of his depth when it came to his own younger brother.
Samandriel said nothing, staring vacantly at the ground, until Benny nudged his arm. "Maybe you should go, li- your highness. I'm not exactly the best company to have around at all times. Spend some time with your big brother."
Samandriel gave Benny a look that Castiel couldn't quite read the meaning of, but he didn't seem quite so upset. "That sounds… nice, Castiel. I'd like to join you."
Castiel let out a relieved breath he hadn't known had been waiting and smiled. "Let's go talk to the stable master then. Are you joining us, Benny?"
Benny and Samandriel exchanged glances and Benny shook his head. "I think you can handle the protection detail, your highness. If it's alright with both of you I think I'll go visit with a friend for a bit."
Castiel nodded and he and Samandriel walked away, while Benny turned and reentered the castle. "Who is he going to see?"
"The blacksmith, I think. They get along fairly well. I imagine he gets lonely sometimes, being in a new place during a war."
Castiel could understand that. And he couldn't imagine that he got much in the way of conversation with Samandriel, who was infamous for his ability to go hours without talking or paying attention to others in anyway.
They found a horse easily enough, selecting an older one that was mellow enough to not need Samandriel to hold tightly to the reins. They all very skillfully avoided expressly stating that was the purpose, although Samandriel's unspoken disability hung thickly on the air.
They rode out for the forest, as was usual for the two of them, and let out simultaneous contented sighs once the last sounds of people faded away behind them.
"I always forget how much I like being out here," Samandriel said, looking around him. "Especially now. It's so much quieter than the castle."
They were quiet again, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Castiel considered telling Samandriel his concerns, but his brother's improved mood made it impossible for him to bring himself to do it. He'd figure out what was going on himself. The last thing Samandriel needed was more things to worry about.
Dean had been pleased to see Benny come into the smithy. He didn't get many non-business visits from anyone besides Sam and Cas, and, as much as he loved the two of them, sometimes he found himself wishing for someone new to talk to. Someone he had a bit more in common with. He loved Castiel more than he'd ever thought it was possible for him to fall in love with someone, and Sam was his favorite person in the world, but he couldn't usually talk with them about things like fighting and tournaments and weapons. Benny enjoyed those topics a great deal more.
Besides, it was probably healthy to have a friend that wasn't related to him and who he wasn't sharing a bed with at every available opportunity.
"Hey there, Benny. Where's your prince?"
"Went out for a ride with his brother," Benny replied, looking around at the weapons that were strewn about. Today was one of Dean's more unorganized days.
"Castiel?"
Benny raised an eyebrow and it occurred to Dean too late that he'd forgotten to tack on 'prince' before the name. He'd have to be careful about that. He liked Benny, had liked him almost instantly, but he wasn't yet certain that he could trust him with such a large and potentially dangerous secret. "Yeah," Benny said, not mentioning it, but his tone confirming that he'd noticed. "Prince Castiel. Thought I'd stop in and see you. Haven't really had much human interaction other than Prince Samandriel."
"I bet that's just loads of fun, following him everywhere. There's worse people than Prince Samandriel, but that doesn't exactly make him easy company."
One side of Benny's mouth pulled up. "He just takes some getting used to. I don't mind spending time with him. He's actually a very good conversationalist, once you give him a topic."
"Oh, yeah? Guess that makes your job easier."
"I suppose it does."
Benny was still smiling like he knew something Dean didn't, but Dean chose not to pry into it. Benny seemed to have settled in well, which was good. Dean had always liked Samandriel, but he wouldn't have wanted to be around him all day, everyday the way Benny had to be. He was glad they'd proven to have at least semi-compatible personalities. And Cas would be glad to hear it, he knew.
They chatted for a while while Dean worked, talking about the jousting tournament coming up that everyone was amazed hadn't been canceled on account of the war. Benny said he liked jousting as much as anyone else, but didn't want to bring it up to Samandriel, who disliked being reminded of his inability to participate. Dean told him he'd be happy to go with him if he could make it over. Castiel found jousting fairly dull to watch and pointless to participate in, although Dean didn't say so to Benny.
Overall it was a pleasant evening, ending with the two of them eating dinner together as they waited for the princes to return and for Benny to be called back to work. Not that his work was terribly difficult, Dean supposed. It wasn't as though Samandriel was doing anything dangerous.
"That… was not where I expected tonight to go," Benny said, still breathing hard. He was stretched out next to Samandriel on the bed, sweaty with his hair well-mussed.
Samandriel grinned at him and it was the most sincere smile he'd given anyone in months. "You kissed me like that and expected us to go our separate ways? Bit inexperienced and naive of you, isn't it?" He ached all over, but it was a fantastic feeling. More like the satisfied ache from training than the painful ache of slow-healing injuries.
Benny laughed breathlessly and rolled over, pinning Samandriel underneath him as he kissed him again. It was lazy and slow, enough so that Samandriel just lightly draped his arms around Benny's neck as he kissed back.
Benny shifted, hands trailing down Samandriel's sides and pulling him even closer. An arm looped around his back, pulling him off the bed just slightly.
"I'm sorry," Benny whispered into Samandriel's mouth and the prince pulled back so he could see his face.
"Sorry for what?"
Benny's fingers moved, just barely, but it was enough for Samandriel to realize he was tracing one of Samandriel's many fresh scars. "I'd give anything to have gotten there in time to prevent these."
Samandriel didn't like being reminded of the injuries or the circumstances that had caused them. Uncomfortable and self-conscious now, Samandriel squirmed away. Benny let him go without protest.
Samandriel pulled one of his blankets over himself and burrowed into his bed. Benny moved as though to return to his room. "You can stay," Samandriel offered, hoping he would.
"You sure?"
Samandriel nodded and was pleased when Benny made himself comfortable next to him, putting out one arm to pull Samandriel closer. Benny let out a contented sigh and nuzzled the back of Samandriel's neck. His beard scratched the skin, but Samandriel didn't mind. There was something very reassuring about having Benny there.
Samandriel had never believed it was possible to fall in love with someone without having known them for months, perhaps even years. He'd thought love - real, actual, head over heels, die for you, love - was something impossible to actually find. He certainly would not have expected to trip over it while bleeding out and strapped to a chair.
The involuntary memory sent shivers up his spine, ones he couldn't force back. Benny tightened his hold around Samandriel's waist.
"It's alright, little bird," he said softly, his low voice and soft accent more reassuring than Samandriel would have ever imagined it could be if he judged just based on what Benny looked like. "I'm here. You're safe. You'll be alright."
Samandriel pushed back, as though he could possibly be any closer to Benny than he was already. One of Benny's hands had moved to his arm and was slowly trailing fingers up and down. Samandriel drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I'm alright, Benny."
Benny kissed him behind his right ear. "You're brave, Samandriel. And a lot stronger than you think you are." The hand slid down his arm, intertwining their fingers. "I don't think there's much that could beat you."
Samandriel didn't know where Benny's faith in him came from, and was afraid to ask. Afraid that saying the wrong thing would cause Benny to realize he really wasn't so special after all. It was nice, however, to have someone who so fully believed he could fight anything life threw at him. Not someone who would prefer to deny that anything had happened at all or someone who thought he was suddenly made of glass.
Samandriel squeezed Benny's hand, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.