Michael sent for Castiel to meet with him before breakfast and Castiel was glad he'd chosen not to spend the night with Dean. He hadn't been caught there yet, but if Michael continued requesting his presence the chances of such a thing happening were only going to increase.

"Castiel," Michael said when he arrived. "Take a seat." He gestured towards a chair, but stayed standing after Castiel took it. He was wearing his crown, which was odd. He rarely wore his crown in the privacy of his office, and Castiel had never seen him with it this early or while Castiel was the only other person present.

"Good morning, Michael," Castiel greeted with a polite nod. Michael's shoulders were rigid and his chin tilted upwards, and Castiel could see nothing of his brother in his form. Only the king.

"I need to send someone to Humaear's capitol to serve as ambassador."

"What's wrong with Ambassador Inias?"

"He's having familial difficulties and I want to send someone more personal. We started this war, they didn't have to join us. I think they deserve to know we appreciate it."

"Oh. Why me?" Castiel was doing his best to not sound like he was protesting, despite the fact that he really did not want to go.

"I can't trust Gabriel. I don't want to send Anael out, she hasn't had nearly enough military training. Balthazar is out, for obvious reasons. And Samandriel can't fight."

The only good choice. Castiel couldn't decide if that was flattering or insulting. He didn't want to go though. Samandriel was here, Balthazar was here, Dean was here. The longest Castiel had ever been away from home was the month he spent searching for Samandriel. He'd only been to Humaear once, when he was little, and it had been a very short visit. Castiel couldn't even remember what the occasion had been.

"Castiel. Are you going to say something?"

There was no part of Castiel that believed the matter was up for debate. Michael had already made up his mind, and there was nothing that anyone could say or do that would change it.

"When do you want me to leave?" he asked instead.

"Within the next few days. I expect you'll be gone at least a month, with travel time. Queen Charlotte will undoubtedly have a better estimation for you."

"Does she know I'm coming?"

"If she doesn't yet she will soon. I told Ambassador Kevin to send a message four days ago."

Nice of Michael to give him some warning. "Is there anything I need to prepare before I leave?"

"I told Commander Zachariah. Talk to him, he'll tell you anything you need to know." Michael sat down behind his desk, no longer looking at Castiel. It was an obvious dismissal, and a rude one.

Castiel left, feeling more than a little miffed and confused. Did Michael know he was suspicious? Castiel didn't see how he could, but it was possible. There were eavesdroppers around the castle than Castiel wasn't comfortable thinking about, and he knew he wasn't the best at keeping his thoughts hidden. Secrets were not his strong suit.

Still, whether Michael knew about his suspicions or not, Castiel was apparently heading for Humaear, however he felt about it. He sighed. He liked the safety and predictability of the castle. He liked knowing that he could always find Balthazar or Gabriel if he wanted a drink, Anael or Samandriel if he needed to talk. He liked the reassurance of Dean being so close, even if he was feeling too paranoid to visit him. Serving as ambassador had never been something he'd envisioned for himself.

Frankly, there wasn't much he had envisioned for himself. He'd never had much in the way of goals. He was decent at most things, but not exceptional, and he was sorely lacking when it came to motivation to go out and do something.

Samandriel had always had plenty of motivation, he thought with a pang. Samandriel had all but been born wielding a sword, and he'd had the tenacity to match his talent.

A talent that had been ripped away while Castiel remained untouched and uninjured, sitting securely in the castle where he had no aspirations to do anything other than what he was told. He didn't even care much for fighting, and his skill at it could only be considered adequate.

It wasn't fair, and the reminder of that twisted something in Castiel's gut. It was nearly time for breakfast now, but he was no longer hungry.

He asked for a plate to take to Samandriel and made for his younger brother's room.

Samandriel seemed somewhat frazzled when he opened the door, stammering for Castiel to hold on a moment and then shutting it again. Castiel wondered if he'd woken Samandriel from a nightmare when he'd knocked. It was an awful thought, Samandriel had seemed to be doing better. Castiel would be even more upset about leaving if he had to leave Samandriel while he was going through a rough patch.

Samandriel did let him in eventually, and seemed in a pretty good mood overall, if a little on edge about something. Benny was in his own room, leaving them with some privacy.

"Brought you breakfast," Castiel offered weakly, lifting up the plate.

"I noticed. How come? And why didn't you bring any for yourself?"

"I'm not hungry." They sat down and Samandriel started eating, looking at Castiel with concern.

"What's going on, Castiel?"

He heaved a sigh, unhappy at the reminder. "Michael is sending me to Humaear as ambassador."

Samandriel, who couldn't hold his silverware very well now anyway, dropped his fork. "What? Why?"

"He said he wanted to send someone personal. And apparently I'm the best choice."

Samandriel nodded. "Makes sense." He looked down at his hands and his fingers twitched as if he was thinking about clenching them. He shook his head and looked back up. "When do you leave?"

"In a few days, apparently. I'm supposed to talk to Commander Zachariah for details."

"Any idea how long you'll be gone?"

"At least a month, by the sound of it. Queen Charlotte will be giving the orders once I'm there, so I can't say for certain."

"Well, she's not as much of a hard-ass as Michael. Shouldn't be too bad."

"I hope not."

The two of them sat in silence a while longer, neither certain how to say any of the emotions coursing through them. Castiel finally left after Samandriel finished his breakfast, taking the plate away with him.

"That was close, huh, little bird?" Benny said after Samandriel had gotten up and told him Castiel was gone.

Samandriel's lips twitched, but the smile was so fleeting that he may as well have spared himself the effort and done nothing.

The two of them had still been in bed - thankfully not doing anything, but still very much without clothes - when Castiel had knocked. Benny had kept a level head, strengthening Samandriel's suspicion that there was nothing with the capability to throw the man off balance, but Samandriel's heart had nearly stopped in his chest.

The concern about being caught had vanished pretty quickly upon hearing Castiel's news.

"What did your brother have to say?" Benny asked, noticing that Samandriel's mind was clearly elsewhere.

"He's being sent to Humaear. Michael wants an ambassador that proves he's taking the war seriously and is grateful for Humaear's help." Which wasn't a bad strategy by any means. Samandriel might have recommended it himself, had anyone asked. It was a purely selfish part of him wishing Castiel didn't have to go. And, he supposed, the part of him that knew Castiel didn't have any desire to be sent. The man had always preferred to stay in the capitol, even when he was young and at the age when most children wish to tear off into the world and explore everything there is to see.

Benny stepped behind him, looping one arm around his shoulders and pressing them together, back to chest. "You're worried about him?"

"Of course. He's my brother."

"You don't think he can take care of himself?"

"I thoughtI could take care of myself."

Benny didn't say anything to that, just tightened his grip a little. Samandriel was discovering that Benny didn't like being reminded of Samandriel's ordeal anymore than Samandriel did, for all that he insisted the younger man couldn't just deny that anything had happened. It was touching, though Samandriel wished it didn't come with Benny blaming himself for not having done something in time to prevent the worst of the injuries.

Benny pressed a kiss into his hair and Samandriel closed his eyes. "I don't how I'd get through any of this without you."

"You'd manage, little bird. I keep telling you, you're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Samandriel had argued with him about that before, but he was too content to do so now. "Still, having you here makes it easier."

Benny's chuckle was quiet, but Samandriel could feel it reverberating around Benny's chest and against Samandriel's spine. "Glad to help, your highness."

If he hadn't been in Benny's arms right then he would have shoved him for calling him that. Benny only ever said it teasingly, and sometimes it was funny, but other times it triggered a nagging worry in the back of his mind that he was somehow coercing Benny into this relationship. He'd chosen to respond with at least a teasing reprimand each time he heard it.

Benny let him go after a few more minutes, slowly stepping away. Samandriel made a displeased noise in response and narrowed his eyes at his bodyguard. "I was comfortable."

Benny laughed. "I'm sure you were, little bird. But, if memory serves, didn't you promise your sister we'd meet her outside and take a walk with her today?"

And woe to anyone who broke a promise made to Anael. She seemed like a very proper and demure princess, but Samandriel knew better than to believe even a second of it. She'd have made a good soldier herself, if Michael or their father had ever bothered to look past her gender to see potential. There were women in the armies, but a princess being amongst them would be more than a great many people could comprehend.

"Fine." Samandriel stretched, hearing something pop in his back with a sensation that was only two-thirds pain. "We should probably go then. I think we might already be late."

They were, and it was obvious as soon as they stepped into the castle courtyard and caught sight of Anael, who was glaring at them as though she could somehow light them on fire with the use of her eyes alone. If anyone could, Samandriel thought, it would be her.

"Did you two forget about me?"

"Sorry, Anael," Samandriel said as he and Benny reached her and the three of them began walking. Benny was along as a guard for both of them. Their father, and now Michael, didn't like the idea of any of them going through the village unaccompanied. Too many people meant too many uncertainties, they always said.

Samandriel didn't mind at the moment. He liked having Benny there. Even when they weren't touching the older man's presence was reassuring.

Anael huffed. "What distracted you? You're usually the most punctual out of all of us."

"Castiel came by and we talked for a bit. He, uh… Michael's sending him to Humaear."

"He is? How come?"

"Ambassador work." Samandriel filled her in on everything he knew as they walked through the village streets. Nobody spared them a second glance. It was always strange to Samandriel how a simple change of clothing could take them from soldiers and princes and princesses to just another face in the crowds. Even with a bodyguard standing next to them, sizing up anyone who came too close, no one thought anything of them.

Anael bit her lip after Samandriel finished. "Because we haven't had enough to be stressed about already, right?" She sighed. "I want this war to be over and for us to get something that at least resembles normalcy back."

"I think we all do. There's been a lot of change in not very much time." Samandriel sighed, looking around. "At least the village has managed to stay the same." His hands twitched at his sides, as though feeling a need to remind him that no matter where he went there was one thing that would probably never be like it was before.

He forced his thoughts away from that. "Are you hungry yet? We could stop into a tavern or something."

"Sure."

The three of them carried on, Anael and Samandriel making meaningless conversation that was easily lost in the babble of the crowds filling the streets all around them.

"I hope he doesn't make you fight," Dean told Castiel as the prince prepared to leave his room. It was said in such a way that Castiel almost wasn't certain if it had been meant for him.

"I hope he doesn't as well. I should be all right, though. The capitol of Humaear isn't near the battle lines. There shouldn't be any fighting there for me to get involved in."

"What about the trip there?"

That was less certain, and as much as Cas wanted to reassure Dean that he would be fine, all he could think of was how certain everyone had been that Samandriel would be just fine when he left. And then how bloody and torn up he'd been when he'd finally been found. "I'll be taking every precaution," he said instead of an empty reassurance. "We'll be prepared for any ambushes we may run across."

"You better be." Dean reached out and pulled Castiel in for a long kiss goodbye, releasing him reluctantly after it ended.

Castiel did his best to keep his own worry off his features, although it seemed unlikely that Dean wouldn't see straight through it. He smiled. "Don't worry about me, Dean. I'll be back soon enough."

"I'm holding you to that."

They locked eyes for a minute, silently communicating the hundreds of things the two of them so rarely said aloud. Castiel nodded, smiled again, and left, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. He didn't want to leave.

"There you are, Castiel," a voice said before he got more than a few feet away from the smithy door.

Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of Michael approaching him from down the hallway. Had he seen him coming out of the smithy? Was he suspicious about it? About Dean? He swallowed hard. "Hello, Michael."

"What are you doing here this late at night? Everyone else is in bed by now."

"Oh. I was just… out for a walk. I didn't feel tired, I thought moving around some might help."

"I see." Castiel couldn't tell whether or not Michael believed him and it made his heart thud so loudly that he was afraid Michael might hear it.

"Are you ready to leave tomorrow morning?" Michael asked, and Castiel allowed himself to breathe just a little easier. Surely Michael would have pressed harder if he thought something was amiss.

He nodded. "I'm ready. I have everything packed and all the men have their orders. We'll leave on schedule."

"Good. I expect full reports when you get back."

"Of course."

They went their separate ways quickly enough, Castiel returning to his room, where he heaved out a sigh of relief. Sometimes he thought it would be easier to call off his and Dean's relationship, but the thought was always banished as quickly as it came. Dean was worth the risk, and he knew the potential consequences as well as Castiel did.

Castiel curled up in bed, trying to ignore his concerns and the wish to have Dean lying next to him.

The morning came too soon for his liking, insisting that he get up and drag himself and his things to the courtyard and onto a horse. There was some ceremony from Michael, goodbyes from his siblings despite him having said goodbye the day before, and then Castiel was riding out with a small army, moving towards Humaear with a twisting in his gut.

"Well, I suppose that's one problem down," Zachariah said, following Michael into his office after seeing Castiel off. "But why didn't you simply tell him you knew about his relationship with Dean Winchester?"

"I am limited on reliable siblings these days, Zachariah. I need Castiel to be on my side, at least for the time being. I can't do that if I confront him about Dean face-to-face. I'll have a repeat of what's happened with Gabriel, and I can't afford that right now."

"Are you going to do something about the blacksmith as well?"

"Of course. There's no telling what my brother's told him, or who he's repeated it to."

"How are you going to find out?"

Michael glared at his army's commander. "I don't need to share all of my plans with you, Zachariah. Some things are best kept to myself."

"I apologize, your majesty. I didn't intend-"

"I don't care what you intended. I have work to do, and you don't need to be present for it, so I'd appreciate it if you went back to the job you are actually employed for."

Zachariah bowed and backed out of the room. Michael rolled his eyes at the sight. Zachariah was useful, and loyal, but there were times when Michael wished the man would grow himself a spine of some sort. The bowing and scraping was sometimes enough to drive Michael mad.

The blacksmith did have to be dealt with, but Michael thought he would require a bit more finesse than Castiel had. Michael didn't just want him out of the picture, he wanted to know what he knew. And it seemed unlikely that he'd offer up any information of his own free will.

Who'd have thought, with a Purgavain serving as Samandriel's bodyguard, Samandriel having been tortured for information, and Gabriel sharing his bed with the Purgavain ambassador, that it would turn out to be mild-mannered Castiel who was keeping the biggest secret? And for a while too, Michael assumed. He'd never have thought Castiel had it in him.

He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating the man again. There was one thing he was learning very quickly as king - there was no one that could be trusted completely. Not even family. He wished his father had thought to teach him that before his death, although he supposed Lucifer's banishment should have served as warning enough.

Michael began to make his way to the smithy to talk to the blacksmith in person. For the life of him, Michael couldn't understand what Castiel saw in the man. At least Gabriel had an excuse with Kali, she was pretty and exotic and unusual enough to catch the man's attention. Dean Winchester was an average man in an average job and the only unusual thing about him was the faint lilt to his words that showed his fading Humaearan accent.

Dean gave Michael a polite nod when he entered the smithy, busy heating metal on the forge. "Good morning, your majesty. Can I help you with something?"

"What is your opinion of my brother?"

To his credit, Dean only faltered for a moment. "Which one of your brothers, your majesty?"

"I'm certain you know, Dean," Michael said, not expecting Dean to admit to the relationship, but wanting him to know that the king knew about it.

Dean's jaw jumped, and his voice was uneven when he spoke again. "I'm afraid not, sire. And besides, I don't feel that I'd be qualified to have an opinion on any member of the royal family."

Good answer. Much too late for him to save himself, but a good answer. A few weeks ago, Michael may even have believed it.

He smiled in a way that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course not. Thank you for your time, Dean."

Dean's nervous expression made it crystal clear to Michael that he knew he and Castiel had been caught. And without Castiel there to come to his defense too.

"Oh, and Dean?" Michael said as he prepared to leave. "If you happen to think of anything I should know about, something you may have heard one of my brothers say, perhaps, I would greatly appreciate your coming to tell me about it."

He left, satisfied that the first part of his message had been successfully delivered.

Dean had cut and burned himself more in the last few hours than he had in the entirety of his time since finishing his apprenticeship. He couldn't focus on his work, and the few times someone had come in to talk to him his responses had been so slow and disjointed that the other person had left almost immediately.

How had Michael known? And why didn't he seem to really be doing anything about it? At least if Castiel had ever wanted to threaten someone he'd be upfront about it, letting them know exactly what was coming and what he wanted. All Dean was certain of right now was that Michael did want something. Information of some sort, apparently. Information Dean thought it was safe to say he didn't have, because if he did he'd probably be able to figure what the hell Michael was talking about.

What sort of information could Dean have anyway? Something Castiel would have told him, obviously, but what could Castiel know that Michael didn't already know about?

That just made things all the scarier. Dean wasn't naive enough to think Michael wasn't going to come up with some sort of leverage to get Dean to talk about whatever it was he wanted Dean to talk about. Without Castiel there to defend him or at least find out more about what was going on, Dean felt like he'd suddenly been dropped into the middle of the ocean and told to swim to shore without being told which way that was.

He forced his way through the rest of the day's work, sent out everything that was supposed to be delivered or picked up, and locked the smithy door. He paced around until his feet started to ache, then sat down and wrenched his hands through his hair.

He wished Michael would just come out and deliver his threat, rather than leaving Dean to wonder what he was planning. He couldn't prepare for something if he didn't know what was coming.

Just calm down, Dean, he told himself sternly. Breathe for a minute. Think about this. What would you do if you were Michael?

He took a deep breath to try and steady himself. What would he do if he were Michael? If he were the type of man to exile his own brother and possibly betray an ally country during a war; what would he use as leverage to find out something he wanted to know?

Torture didn't seem to be the king's style. Castiel had always made it seem as though Michael was a very subtle sort of person. So he probably wouldn't attack Dean in an obvious way. But what else could he use?

Dean supposed he could threaten his job somehow. Perhaps spread rumors about Dean that could severely damage his reputation. It didn't seem quite right, however. If he lost his job he would have nothing left to lose, and a damaged reputation meant he had nothing to gain either.

So what else could he be threatened with? He didn't exactly have much. There was Castiel, his job, and-

Dean was halfway out the door before the thought even finished forming.

He took the stairs three at a time, running down hallways and nearly knocking over more than a few servants. He skidded to a halt just outside the library, finding that he'd put the pieces together just a few minutes too late.

Sam's arms were pinned behind his back and he was twisting around, asking what was going on, voice get louder and louder, but he was consistently ignored.

"Dean?" Sam called, noticing him in the doorway. "Dean! What's going on? Dean!" Sam was shoved roughly past him, stumbling.

"Sammy!" Dean whirled around, looking back into the library, where the king was standing, arms crossed over his chest and a smug expression on his face.

An expression that said 'It's your move now.'