Chapter Text
The Novak family was well-respected in the Southern side of the kingdom of Lawrence. Charles Novak-I had served as an advisor to the first king of Lawrence, and ever since, the family had become enmeshed in the political and royal scene of Lawrence. Charles Novak-II went on to follow in his father's footsteps and served as the advisor to the then Campbell king. It wasn't until four generations had passed that the course of the Novak family changed. Michael Novak had opted to become a knight instead of an advisor, and he was right to have done so, for the fame and prosperity he brought to the Novak family had never before been seen.
The eldest son of Sir Michael, Michael Junior, went on to follow his father's footsteps and opted for knighthood. His daughter, Michael's younger sister, Anna, was trained in the classical art of music and instrument and was a much-revered budding artist in the court of Lord Campbell. But it was Sir Michael's youngest son, Castiel, who seemed to be the black sheep of the family, for neither had he any interest in knighthood nor advisory. But it didn't discourage Castiel in the slightest.
Castiel was one of the brightest men in the land. Having learned more than six languages, studied more than eight subjects, and spent most years of his childhood surrounded by books, it was obvious that he grew fond of the sciences and literature than swords and arrows. Of course, Castiel hadn't woken up one day with a love for science, no, it was his uncle, Gabriel, Sir Michael's youngest brother who had introduced him to the beauty of knowledge.
And so, despite being the most intelligent person in the entirety of the Novak ancestry, his father considered him a good-for-nothing. As a son, the taunt did sting. But as a scholar, Castiel knew there was nothing wrong with being different.
It wasn't until Sir Michael made an announcement one morning that Castiel found his life changing.
A scroll of honor had been handed over to Sir Michael by the then royal advisor, John Winchester. He had sought to betroth his eldest son, Sir Dean Winchester to Michael's daughter, Anna, to keep the integrity and pride of the family intact. After all, Sir Dean Winchester was the army general, a most worshipped knight, and all this at the ripe age of thirty-two. It would only be fit if the maiden he married had dignity and reputation to her name.
"The Winchester family will be arriving here on Monday," Michael said to his children, who sat gathered around in the parlor of their lavish manor. Castiel tipped his reading specs down on his nose and studied his father, who seemed to be especially happy that day.
"Why?" Anna asked, oblivious to how she was being pawned over to the Winchesters. She had been engaged in crocheting a scarf and did not much bother with her father's words.
"Well, to arrange for your wedding, of course."
It was funny how the needle pricked Anna's finger at her sudden jolt, and she peered up at her father incredulously. "Are you joking? You're— you're marrying me off? To who?"
"Sir Winchester."
Disgust curled across Anna's pale face. "Oh, no, no, father. Not him, anyone but him. He's a monster— ruthless and cold. I've heard of him from all of my maiden friends, he is brash and brutish and has not a single care for a wife. He won't love me father, he won't make me happy."
But Michael was adamant. "Anna. I am not asking you; I am telling you. Sir Winchester and you are to be wedded before dusk on the fortnight of this month."
"A fortnight? That is in a week? Father, why couldn't you consult me before promising me off to a man as monstrous and negligent as Winchester."
"Anna" Sir Michael growled. "Reign your tongue in, girl, before it gets you put on the gallows. The man you are speaking of shall soon be your lawfully wedded husband, and you will not put the reputation and dignity of the Novak family to shame because you think Winchester is a monster."
Tears laced Anna's eyes, and both Castiel and Michael Junior had now softened at the sight of their sister distraught. But against the will of their father, they were helpless and could do nothing but watch as Sir Michael stormed out of the room with arrogance, and Anna dropped to the floor crying.
It wasn't until their father had disappeared at last, that both Castiel and Michael Junior huddled around Anna, wrapping her in their arms and soothing her back. "Anna," Castiel whispered to her. "Father’s being unreasonable."
"He's always been unreasonable. He never cared for my feelings, for my thoughts, for my life. All he cares about is the name of this family. Well, I say, to hell with the Novaks. Each of them could rot for all I care." She sobbed into Michael's shoulder.
Castiel exchanged a disdainful glance with his brother, and with a small sigh, rubbed his sister's back. "Father's right, Anna, you should reign in your tongue. We don't want you to get into trouble. Besides, I'm sure Winchester won't be that bad."
"Oh, god darn Winchester. I haven't a care for him. The truth is— well, the truth is—" Anna broke into another round of pitiful sobbing, before finally catching her breath, and looking up at her brothers with glassy eyes. "Promise not to tell a soul. Promise me, promise your life on it."
"Promise," Michael whispered.
"I— I've already given myself over to someone else."
Castiel and Michael paused. Shock painted their pale faces as they gulped in fear.
"Anna. Who? Who have you given yourself over to?"
"Raphael. The sculptor."
"The peasant?" Castiel asked, dumbstruck.
"Yes. He and I love each other to death, and any life without him would be no life at all. I'd rather drink poison than go a day without him. Raphael loved me, even when I believed I couldn't be loved. If not Raphael, I cannot belong to anyone."
"Anna." Michael sighed, and loosened his hold around their sister. The three of them sat together by the simmering fireplace, absorbing the sliver of heat from the firewood that seemed to burn out any second and drench the room into cold. "Father will kill you the moment he finds out."
"I know, Michael, I know. I wasn't born under a rock, and I certainly know how my father is." Anna snapped, but Michael didn't mind. Both brothers knew and understood the differences in their sister's upbringing. They had been told to speak and express themselves, and Anna had been told to stay mum. Where their individuality would be celebrated, Anna's would be frowned upon. They were well aware of the society they lived in.
"What are you going to do now?" Castiel asked, hesitant and quiet. Anna shrugged and sent him a dim look.
"I'm not sure. Sleep, I suppose. Perhaps father will change his mind in a week."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then I suppose I will marry Sir Winchester."
A week passed by in the blink of an eye. The preparation for Anna's betrothal to Sir Winchester was a momentous occasion for the Novak family, and so, each member was busy contributing to it in their own way. The elderly of the house resigned to simply watching and financing, while the women worked on cooking and baking, and catering to the guests. The men brought in beer and cheer to the celebration, and the children in the family, with their doe-eyes and naughty hands stealing cookies from jars, brought humor and spirit to the celebration. Any festivity, especially a marriage was a much-needed break from the rigidity and discipline of the Novak family.
The guilt Castiel had felt a week before had disappeared the moment the festivities began. In a week, he was helping his father and his uncles and lending his time to helping his mother as well. It seemed there was no respite. Every day, he'd be out in the market, or maybe at the manor, planning, and accounting. But all in all, the once regret-filled atmosphere had certainly changed.
Castiel hadn't met Sir Winchester and his family yet. Once when they had visited the manor, Castiel happened to be out in the market buying fabric for the decoration and missed his chance to see Sir Winchester. Since he didn't make many rounds of the Royal Castle, he had never met Sir Winchester before, although his brother, Michael Junior, vouched for the fact that one look from Sir Winchester was enough to arouse sensation in anybody's mind. To his enemies, it was fear; and to the maidens, it was lust. Castiel wondered what a man capable of something like that would look like.
The Winchester family would be at the manor any moment, where onward, they would proceed to the chapel where the guests had gathered.
Castiel was dressed in his finest suit and robe, looking stunning and fresh with his face shaven and hair brushed (although he believed his hair had a mind of its own and would not succumb to Castiel's insistent attempts at taming).
It was on his way out that his father ran into him, looking off-color and anxious. At the sight of Castiel, his face brightened and he grabbed Castiel by the shoulder.
"Have you seen Anna?" Sir Michael leaned in to whisper. Castiel stared at him curiously for a moment, before quirking a lip.
"No, I assumed she was with mother."
"Good Lord." Sir Michael sighed and clutched at his chest in pain. "I can't find her anywhere. Neither can Mike. Your mother has checked with all the women, but she isn't to be found anywhere."
"Well, have you checked her room?"
"Not yet."
"Come along then, I'll help you check." Castiel led his father up the spiral staircase and across the floor over to where Anna's room was at the very end of the corridor. The door was shut, so Castiel twisted the knob but to no avail. It seemed to be locked from the inside.
"Anna?" Castiel called out and banged his fist against the door. "Anna?"
"Anna?" His father called out in his aging, broken voice, and rapped his fist against the door alongside Castiel. For a few minutes, the two of them banged on the door, shouting and screaming out for Anna to open the door, but were met with complete silence.
Behind them, a small crowd had formed to witness the commotion. Castiel's mother, Michael Junior, and a few other cousins had gathered around them.
"I don't think she's in there," Michael Junior said after a moment's silence.
Sir Michael seemed to be pained— his wrinkled face now strewn with guilt and disappointment. With a trembling hand, he reached out against a wall and steadied himself, muttering under his breath a string of no, no, no as he shook his head. Castiel ached to see his father like this, but he also knew in his mind that it wasn't the loss of his daughter that was troubling his father, it was the shame and dishonor that her loss would bring that was troubling him.
"Break it down." Castiel suggested. Michael sent him a questioning look, but Castiel nodded. So, on the count of three, Castiel and Michael and barged through the door.
The door broke open with a loud clamor, and they found the room empty.
Not a single trace of Anna. Her wardrobe had been cleared out, her shelves cleared out, and the only thing remaining was a single, folded piece of paper.
Silence spread across the room as the people studied it and the realization of what had happened sunk in slow. Anna was gone— gone without a trace. And all that was left was a note.
Since nobody reached out first, Castiel decided to do it himself. With a deep breath, he picked up the note and opened it, reading aloud to all.
"Dear mother, father, Mike and Cas. It pains me to do this, but you've left me no choice. You cannot force me to marry Sir Winchester. I have been in love with a man, who has been in love with me, for the past year or so, and we have vowed to only belong to each other— body, mind and soul. And so, I am sorry, but I cannot abide by your wish to marry someone else. I am leaving with whatever I have, and the little money I own. I will make a life with my man and perhaps, someday, when you are ready to accept us both as we are, I will return to you. Till then, farewell mother, father. And my love to Mike and Cas. I wish you all the very best. Love—"
Before Castiel could finish, there rose a resounding, painful cry of Anna through the air, and everyone snapped to the side to watch as Sir Michael dropped to the floor clutching his head in his hands.
At once, the color drained from the faces of all present, the air in the room seemed to be sucked out the window, and instead, a lingering dread hung between them as Castiel put the note down, and looked over at his brother, Michael. Michael seemed disappointed and hurt, undoubtedly at the news of his sister having eloped, and the atmosphere changed within a second.
Castiel's mother sobbed into her cousin's shoulder, while Sir Michael mourned his loss on the floor, crying and tugging at his hair. As strange as it seemed, Castiel couldn't find it in himself to cry or rather, even react, because the fact that Anna had run away did not sink into his mind as quick as it should have. He thumbed the note absently, looking around the room with uncertainty, until someone ran up and dashed into the room with a wide-eyed, exasperated expression on his face.
"The Winchester family— they've reached here— they're down there—" The man, one of Castiel's uncle's, panted for breath, "—they're down in the parlor— all of them."
The sobbing, the wailing, the whispering—everything stopped the moment the news broke. The Winchester family was downstairs— and they must be demanding an explanation. Sir Michael groaned in pain, slapping his forehead over and over again as he mumbled out curses.
"We need to face them," Michael Junior said.
"And how, dear boy, do you expect me to do so?" Sir Michael cried out, and pushed himself up to his feet, still distraught.
"We'll all come with you. You won't have to do this alone, father. Mother, control yourself. You mustn't let a tear show. Please." Michael walked over to where his mother stood, and rubbed her back to calm her down. He wiped away her teardrops, and held her close to his chest to comfort her. Castiel nodded.
"I agree with Mike, father. I believe we should do this together. We'll be with you every step of the way."
"I wonder what grave sin the Lord is punishing me for— taking my daughter away, putting me to shame, Lord what have I done? What shall I repent for?" Sir Michael groaned out, and before he could trip over his own foot, Castiel caught him by the shoulder and carefully, led him out of the room. The four of the remaining Novak family trudged down the staircase, now enveloped with a deep sense of remorse and desolation. Mother was quiet on her way down, more paralyzed than anything, and father was inconsolable.
Somehow, the four of them made their way down into the parlor, and seated on their delicate little chairs were three giant, fearsome and rugged men— each with an intimidating presence. The room was quiet for a moment or so, and the eldest of the three, a tall man with grey hair reached out to Sir Michael with worry in his eyes.
"Michael, my dear friend, what is it? You seem hysterical— dear Lord."
"John." Sir Michael croaked out, and let out an ungodly sob. “My darling, my angel— she's gone, she's gone, oh, she's gone."
John Winchester, as Castiel discovered he was, turned to Castiel for an explanation, and in answer Castiel simply handed him the note Anna had left. For a few seconds, the room was silent as John read the note, and at last, let out a deep sigh.
"My god, Michael." John shook his head pitifully. "I—I don't know what to say. I can't even begin to understand how you must feel. Having your child turn against you, defy you, run away— it must feel crushing. Forgive me for being so inarticulate, but I have nothing to say. But you my friend, please, compose yourself, come have a seat here."
John helped Castiel lead Sir Michael over to a chair, and laid him down on the seat. Sir Michael, however, seemed least bothered as he sobbed into his hands. Silence crawled over the room as John settled down next to Sir Michael. Castiel took the chance to glance across at the two men sitting afar, but missed the opportunity when his father tugged at his robe.
"Yes father?"
Sir Michael had stopped sobbing now. His wet, wrinkled face was now marked with shame.
"Master John, when we spoke of bringing our family together, we spoke of honor, of dignity, of purity, of prestige. I never mentioned it was only Anna who could bring that to you."
Castiel stopped in his tracks. He couldn't understand what his father was saying, try as he might. But then, Sir Michael stood up— determined and firm, and looked John straight in the eye. "Let bygones be bygones. Let that not affect our family's pride and honor. John, today, in this very moment, I hand over my youngest son, Castiel Novak to you as your son-in-law, and I promise with every fiber of my being, that he will not let you down. What Anna did is inexcusable, but it shouldn't keep our families from flourishing. I hope you agree."
It took Castiel a second to realize. A second too late, because the moment Sir Michael had finished, John had clapped him on the back with a wide grin. "Very well, Michael. Don't let the celebration go to waste. I'm sure Castiel will bring our family immense pride. And if you feel right, I say we wed the two this very moment, before dusk sets in. The chapel isn't too far, is it."
"Not at all, right around the corner."
"I—" Castiel blurted out, taken aback by his father's sudden decision. "I don't understand."
"What I mean, Castiel," Sir Michael said, a small smile on his face, "—is that you will marry Sir Dean, in place of your sister."
Standing at the altar, his small hand held in Sir Winchester's large, rough one, Castiel gazed down at the floor hoping nobody would notice the gloom in his eyes. The same could not be said for Sir Winchester, who had donned his helmet for the ceremony, as was tradition. All Castiel could see was a shadow on the bridge of his nose. It felt strange holding the hand of someone he barely knew, and even strange, the fact that Castiel would now be a husband to said stranger.
"Do you, Sir Dean Winchester, knight of the Lord Campbell's highest order and general of the kingdom army, take Castiel Novak as your lawfully betrothed husband?"
A small, deep rumble of a murmur. "I do."
"And do you, Castiel Novak, take Sir Dean Winchester as your lawfully betrothed husband?"
Everyone was waiting for it. There was no point in delaying the verdict.
"I do." Castiel whispered, and let a small tear roll down his face.
Anna was gone— and because she was gone, Castiel's life was handed over to the hands of a man he didn't even know.
He was no more a Novak. He was now a Winchester.
The farewell was an emotional affair. Mother smiled through her tears as she blessed both Castiel and Dean, and Sir Michael seemed beyond exhilarated at Castiel's marriage. People came and went, wishing Castiel a successful married life ahead, asking when he would plan to adopt a child, and making crude sexual innuendos that Castiel couldn't care less for. But none of it mattered— because none of it stayed with Castiel. He was there at the altar, but not in the right mind. He was there to be wished by his parents, but lost in the tragedy that had beset him.
If only Anna knew that it was Castiel's life that was the price she had to pay to run away, would she still have run away? Castiel wondered.
And so, with a polite, rigid smile for every person that came his way, Castiel spent the evening greeting people and thanking them for being present at the moment where Castiel's life was irreparably screwed. Of course, he didn't say that verbatim.
They had a single word for 'irreparably screwed', and it was called marriage.
Every now and then, Castiel tried catching a glimpse of his husband, but failed. Sir Winchester had not yet removed his helmet, and so, it was hard for Castiel to judge his appearance. Of course, he had heard that Sir Winchester was a sight to behold, but he had yet to witness it. If the former was true, Castiel was going to be slaughtered by the mob of Dean's bimbette admirers.
The evening passed on well, and the celebration came to a close. It wasn't until most of the guests had left, and only the Winchester and the Novak family was present at the chapel, that Castiel could see his mother and father again. They rushed over to him and embraced him warmly. His mother kissed his cheek, something she hadn't done in ages, and beamed at him.
"You're now a Winchester, Cas. You must behave well, my love, and make your family proud."
"Yes, mother."
"I always knew you would bring me honor and dignity, Castiel." Sir Michael said, as he clapped a hand over Castiel's shoulder. "Keep your husband well. Be a good son for them, as you have been for us all these years. And if you are to miss us, do write to us my son."
"Of course, father." Castiel smiled, but couldn't help the way his bottom lip trembled. Leaving his mother and father behind, moving into a new province, a new home, a new family— especially when he wasn't prepared for it by a long stretch— Castiel only hoped he wouldn't break down any time soon.
John stroked a hand down Castiel's back, and gave him a wide, reassuring smile. His husband, Sir Dean, was nowhere to be seen, but there was his younger brother, and also the taller brother as Castiel figured out, Samuel— went by Sam— who was walking over to him.
"Castiel, are you feeling fine?" Sam asked. His light, hazel brown eyes gave Castiel some semblance of comfort as they peered at Castiel. Sam smiled, and though his height was nothing short of frightening, his presence made Castiel feel at ease. Out of the two brothers, Castiel had found Sam more amicable than Dean. But then again, Sam wasn't the one being forced into a marriage with a stranger, so fair enough.
"I'm feeling fine, Sam, thank you. Just tired, that's all."
"Well, how're you going to last the night with your husband then." Sam laughed, although Castiel didn't quite catch onto what was so funny.
"Well, we'll obviously have a bed to sleep on, so I don't see why— oh."
It seemed everyone had something to say about Dean and Castiel's wedding night, but at that point Castiel had grown used to it. So, he sent Sam a coy smile, and turned his gaze down. If marrying a stranger wasn't enough, now Castiel had to be naked with him and touch him, hold him, kiss him— no, no, no. Castiel couldn't. He simply couldn't. No matter what. And judging by how Sir Dean had been avoiding him, it seemed he thought the same as Castiel.
"Castiel," John called out, "—we must be getting along now. The journey is for an hour or so, and I'd hate to travel through the forest late at night. Come on then, the lackey has packed up all your luggage onto the cart. You and Dean will ride together, Sam and I will follow you. Understood?"
"Yes, understood."
John and Sam walked away to where their horses waited for them outside, leaving Castiel alone inside the giant, empty, dark chapel with only a sliver of the fading sunlight pouring in. Castiel sighed, and walked over to the altar, wet eyes blurring his vision, and dropped to his knees to pray. But this was no prayer— this was a plea. Castiel asked whoever was listening to his prayer, why he had to bear the brunt of Anna's mistake. Why him— out of everyone. His identity, his individuality, his choice— everything had been snatched away from him.
A tear rolled down his cheek and he suppressed a small hiccup as he finished praying. With a sigh, he rose up to his feet, and turned to leave when at once, he crashed into someone large, and let out a loud gasp.
"Oh—" Castiel cried out the moment he stepped back. But the man in front of him did not budge. If the helmet was anything to go by, it was him— Sir Winchester. "Sir Winchester, my apologies, I didn't—"
In his quiet, yet gritty and deep, rumbling voice, Dean asked. "What did you pray for?"
It seemed as if the tension slipped out of Dean's firm shoulders, and he reached up to take his helmet off. Castiel watched— silent and awestruck as Dean ran a hand through his hair, and at last, turned to Castiel.
What Castiel saw left him speechless. The rumors were true— absolutely true— Sir Winchester truly was a sight to behold. Short, dark blonde hair and a chiseled face. Deep, glimmering green-eyes, and the pink, plump lips of an angel. Nothing about the man's face or body seemed holy in the slightest, and though Castiel had sworn not to be swayed by the man's appearance, he found himself stumbling backwards in awe.
"Are you alright, Castiel—"
"Yes, yes, my Lord."
"Dean. Call me Dean."
"But my lord—"
"Dean. It's my name."
Castiel turned his gaze down, now flustered, and nodded. "Alright, Dean."
"We must be leaving now, father's right. The forest gets unpredictable after sunset. Come on." Dean held his hand out, and for a second, Castiel simply stared at it. There was no metallic glove obscuring his hand anymore, no, this was Dean's flesh and skin, and the moment Castiel touched it, he felt his stomach flutter.
Dean was gentle with him as he led him outside by the hand. Although they did not speak much, Castiel was well-aware of the space between them— and the lack of it. Standing outside the chapel was a large, big, black mare.
"Castiel, this is Chevy, my mare. She's got a fighter spirit, but she loves to be pet."
"Hello Chevy." Castiel whispered, and ran a hand down her mane. She neighed, and leaned into the touch, surprising Castiel a bit, but he chuckled and stroked her even more. Beside him, Castiel could feel Dean eyeing him— as if studying him, but he didn't let it hinder his moment with Chevy.
"I'll help you up, alright," Dean said, and turned to Castiel. Castiel stepped away from Chevy's mane and over to where the foot of the saddle was. He had ridden horses before, but none as large as Chevy. And as embarrassing as it was, he needed help. He dug his hands into the top of the saddle, and tried to push himself up but then there was a firm, gentle hand pushing him up onto Chevy's back.
Dean climbed on up after him, and took the reign of Chevy's saddle in his hand. He pulled the reign once, and Chevy began trotting down the road. Dean’s chest pressed against Castiel's back, and as much as Castiel tried to avoid the contact, he felt it crashing into him every few minutes. Eventually, with how exhausted Castiel was, he gave in to the touch, and relaxed back into Dean's chest. Sleep came easy then, what with his prevalent weariness and the coolness of the breeze and the firmness of Dean's chest supporting him.
Dean stared down at the young man asleep against his chest, and though he tried not to, he couldn't help but feel a flutter inside his chest. Marrying someone was never a priority nor a necessity, but it was his father's insistence that had led Dean to agreeing to the marriage. Of course, he had expected to marry a maiden, but the course of the day had changed, and here he was, married to the run-away maiden's younger brother.
Now, it would be a lie if Dean said the young man was an ugly sight, because he was far from ugly. A soft, clean-shaven, young face that glowed with radiance and mischief; teasing, peachy plush lips that never failed to distract Dean's attention from the man's eyes. And God, those eyes— as blue as the sky and as light as a child's laughter. But at the altar that evening, Dean had seen them grow grey and dull, and he had felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He knew Castiel had had no say in the matter, he had been there when John and Michael decided to wed them.
The Winchester Manor grew larger as they neared it, and Dean watched as John and Sam climbed down their horses and dashed inside the manor. Dean on the other hand, hesitated to climb down for the mere fact that he couldn't find it in himself to wake Castiel up, who seemed to be so fast and deep asleep. It would take some effort, but Dean managed to pick Castiel up in his arms without waking him up, and climbed down Chevy as usual.
Castiel wasn't tiny by any means and had good, lean muscle on him which made it a bit taxing to carry him up the flight of stairs, but Dean was used to carrying heavier cargo up mountains. A flight of stairs was nothing. Perhaps it was the commotion inside the manor that stirred Castiel, but a few seconds later, he awoke and stared right up at Dean.
Something churned inside Dean's stomach when Castiel looked at him with those sleepy, relaxed eyes, but the moment didn't last too long since Castiel jolted awake with realization, and dropped to his feet. His face was flustered red, and so was Dean's.
"I didn't mean to—"
"You could have woken me up, I wouldn't mind—"
They both went silent, before Dean gulped and spoke again. "You were tired. But now that you're awake, I'll show you your room."
"We won't be sleeping together then." Castiel noted, and Dean stopped in his tracks.
"Castiel, we are married on paper. You are still a stranger to me, and so am I to you. You will have your own room, and everything you will ever need will be given to you. Come on." Dean hadn't meant to be harsh, and maybe if he'd thought about it before he said it, he could've been kinder to Castiel. But there was no turning back. Castiel nodded, and followed Dean obediently.
Dean led him to one of the larger, special guest room, and helped him settle in. Castiel studied the room in silence, taking in every small detail. Once satisfied, Castiel turned around and gave Dean a small smile. "Thank you. It's more than I need."
"Good."
They stood in silence for another moment, uncertainty lingering between them, but the silence was soon broken when Dean cleared his throat. "Good night. And let me know if you need anything. The staff will get your luggage in, don't worry."
With that, Dean turned to leave, only to feel something tug at his hand, and he snapped his head around to find Castiel reaching out with his small fingers.
"I— erm, good night. And thank you, for being so—"
"Don't thank me for basic human decency, Castiel."
"Still. I understand that now we're betrothed, and we have to live together but—"
"No, we don't. We won't live together, Castiel, we never will be able to live together. We're only surviving together." Dean sighed, and turned his gaze down. Somehow, he couldn't stand the sight of Castiel in that moment, because he reminded Dean of everything Dean couldn't have— a family, love, children, freedom.
Being a knight came with fine print— and that included giving up on emotion.
Sure, Dean would be married, but only for namesake. He had a family, but only for namesake.
None of it meant anything.
"You could have chosen not to marry me. You could have refused." Castiel argued, never raising his voice but being firm in his tone.
"I had as much say in this marriage as you did."
"But I didn't have any."
"Exactly."
Silence crawled between them again as Dean's words hung in the air above them. Having nothing else to do, Dean turned around to leave. He hadn't made it far before he heard Castiel pipe up from behind him in the softest of voices.
"Dean. I'll do my best."
If only Dean was half as hopeful as Castiel was, maybe he could have expected to love Castiel. But he was not. Without a word, Dean continued to walk away.
