A/N: The chapter after this one will be an outsiders' POV chapter, just to remind you.

Shit's getting messy. Stay tuned for more drama (and eventually a happy ending). I feel like that should be the description of pretty much all my stories.

Chapter 19 - Marks of Betrayal

"Castiel," Michael says softly. His hand moves to graze at his younger brother's shoulder from where he stands, behind the younger Angel. "How are you feeling today?"

He speaks cautiously, afraid to anger Castiel with what is now undue familiarity yet apparently desperate for contact with his youngest sibling.

Castiel and Michael have been speaking ever infrequently. Castiel can rarely bring himself to make eye contact with his oldest brother; only nod shortly and offer him brief, frosty responses. In avoiding Michael's awkward company, Castiel has spent much of his time in Tyrzah with Anna, familiarising himself with the beautiful kingdom from which his mother came. Michael begged Castiel to return to Evadne, if even for a little while. Perhaps he had missed Castiel.

But Castiel misses Dean, and desperately. He hates Dean for jumping to the foolish conclusions he did jump to—for being, as always, so hot-headed and impulsive. And he misses the Human more than he has anything ever before.

"I am feeling okay, brother," He replies tiredly. "You needn't worry about me."

Angel King sighs softly from behind Castiel. Although he can't see him, Castiel is fairly certain that he is crying. He muses gently for a moment on the oddness and intensity of ties between siblings.

"You will be turning twenty-one, soon," Michael states quietly. Castiel frowns at the empty air in front of him. He places the book in his hands on the table and turns himself from where he sits, looking out the window, to face his brother. He was right about Michael crying—or at least partially so. Michael's eyes are damp with the beginnings of tears.

"Not for a while," Castiel replies, a frown still worming at his features.

"Your birthday will arrive sooner than you'll anticipate it to," Michael replies. His hand—Castiel had forgotten it was still resting on his shoulder—squeezes gently. The touch is meant to be comforting, but it sends something sinking like a stone in water down into Castiel's gut.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks, swallowing thickly.

"Because I want you to be fairly warned," Michael answers. "And because it's time you began to fulfil some more of your royal duties."

"I've already gone to war once," Castiel reminds. Michael sighs and rubs his temples with thumb and forefinger.

"Yes, brother, once," He counters. "Only once. And you know that there is more to being a prince than that."

"When did Gabriel and Anna first start ruling?"

"Castiel," Michael sighs again, "Anna began ruling over Tyrzah as its Queen shortly after our father's death—after I was crowned High King and forced to return to Evadne. Gabriel began ruling Theia as its King only around half a century before that."

"So they would have been far older than I am now, you mean." Castiel glowers up at his older brother. Michael exhales again and kneels in front of Castiel, on the cool white stone of the palace floor, his eyes level with his younger brother's.

"I am not asking you to begin ruling a Kingdom, Castiel," Michael reminds gently. "Only to take up a few more duties as a member of the royal family. As a prince—and one day, as a King. "

"And what do these duties involve?" Castiel asks, his eyebrows winding into a worried expression. Michael's lips twitch upwards affectionately, and he brushes his thumb across the concerned lines written across Castiel's forehead. Castiel desperately wants to shake his brother off; to remind him that the pair are no longer so familiar with each other, that Castiel does not appreciate the touch nor need the comfort that it intends, but Michael falters, as though suddenly becoming aware of his younger brother's thoughts, and withdraws.

"There are a number of options," He answers. "But joining your sister—she is visiting the Kingdom of Dione in just under a month—"

"I have no desire to return to any of the Human Kingdoms," Castiel's jaw clenches. "Never again."

"You will have to at some point, brother," Michael's expression of gentle concern twists into a frown. "Better now, proving to yourself that you can, than in a number of years' time, when you can hardly bring yourself to do it out of fear for reliving everything."

"That's why I don't want to go back, now," Castiel glowers at his brother. "For that, and a myriad of other reasons. Why must I go?"

"The Queen of Dione—Queen Bela—has called for each of the Human Kingdoms to visit her Kingdom on a vote of unification of the Earthly Realms."

"She wants to unite the four Earthly Kingdoms?" Castiel raises his eyebrows at Michael. The older Angel bows his head and nods. "And that's a bad thing?" He asks, frowning.

"Depending on the conditions of their unification, yes, it could be," Michael confirms. "And considering that our ties with the Humans are now all but completely severed—"

"—Sorry—" Castiel apologises quickly, guilt prickling down his neck. Michael shakes his head and brushes Castiel's comment aside with his hand, continuing.

"—You needn't apologise," Michael sighs. "All I mean is that, with Angel-Human ties so weak, it would be easy for the Humans to override any ancient traditions left binding our two races together in mutual loyalty."

"And so they might form ties with the Demon Kingdoms."

"Precisely," Michael nods. "With one or both of them."

"Which would pose a threat to our own Kingdom."

"To all of the Angel Kingdoms. To all of us."

Castiel sighs softly. There is quiet for a moment.

"So you want Anna and myself to be there—"

"To ensure that this doesn't happen," Michael finishes Castiel's sentence for him. Castiel looks down a moment. His head is starting to hurt.

"And Dean—"

"—Will most likely be there, yes," The High King confirms. The pain in Castiel's skull turns into a dull pounding sensation. "Almost certainly, in fact."

"And I must visit?"

"I think it would be best, yes brother," Michael says firmly yet quietly.

"Simply to face my own fears?"

"If for nothing else, then yes. But your presence will be needed there for the good of our kind. Remember the Angels, Castiel—we knew and loved you long before any Human ever did."

Castiel bites the inside of his mouth again and stares down at the marble floor. He has missed this palace, if nothing else. These alabaster walls have been his home for the past twenty years of his life—and yet he was prepared to give them completely up for a life with Dean. He was prepared to give everything up for Dean. His eyes flit back to the book on the table—the first book Dean ever gave to him. A splintering sensation itches across his heart whenever he looks at it, and as a result he has no idea of why it is he has chosen to read it again, let alone have it so constantly in his presence. He glances back up at his brother once more.

"So what is your answer, Castiel?" Michael asks gently. Castiel sighs.

"I will go," He nods. Michael's hands move to squeeze at the younger Angel's wrists.

"Thank you," His brother's voice fills with earnest. "You're far braver than I ever was."

Castiel looks away.

…

He arrives in the Kingdom of Dione with his sister. The castle is smaller than that of Hera, and it lies on a cliff with the surrounding sea rocking against the stone faces below it. Even inside the castle, Castiel can hear the sound of the waves. The castle itself is beautiful, Castiel admits—while Hera was composed almost entirely of defences and hard, heavy attempts at grandeur, thick stone walls and a dense, ominous silhouette on the horizon, Dione is soft turrets and spires, thin spiral staircases and whitewashed walls—it feels almost precarious, set atop a chalky cliff next to such a wide, grand sea.

By the time he and Anna had arrived, evening had already begun to set in, and now the pale walls of the castle are caught alight in the fire of the setting sun, casting its rays out across the wide waters of the Cerydien.

The Queen's hair forms in loose waves. Four thin plaits, two on either side of her head, wound together as the meet at the back of her head. She wears an elegant black dress that looks as though it is made of satin, with lace sleeves that cut off at her elbows. Castiel examines them thoughtfully for a moment—Queen Talbot is the first Human he has seen wearing clothing that reveals some of her arms. He wonders if this is a deliberate statement on her part. Judging by her defiant, resolute expression and steady gaze, it probably is. All of her presentation is calculated, careful and deliberate—Castiel is sure of it—and were he not examining the Queen of Dione so closely, he would be sure to believe her older than him; and yet now that he is unpicking all of her façade, he realises with something of a shock that she must be several years younger than himself.

There is a child on the throne of Dione.

"I had never intended to keep ties with the Demon Kingdom of Heolster," The Queen Bela states, her face frank and open as she sits on the bronze throne at the head of the Great Hall. Castiel and his sister stand opposite her. The windows are the colour of the sea outside, and stained on the largest one is a depiction of a sea-maiden, hair long and golden and skin a deep brown. She sits atop rock on the wild sea, warm brown eyes with the sun quite literally setting behind them fixed on Castiel. Her green tail trails lazily in the water, the sound of the sea outside makes the image almost seem as though it is moving.

Castiel is distracted and wearied by travel. None of the rulers of the Human Kingdoms have arrived yet.

"So the Kingdom of Aiathen…?" Anna asks, Castiel not missing the concern flitting across her features as she trails off, leaving Queen Talbot to fill her in.

"I cannot promise anything on our relations with Aiathen," Bela replies honestly. She leans forward fractionally on her throne, her hands resting lightly on the cool metal arms of the furniture, not breaking eye contact with Castiel's sister for a moment.

"Why is that?" Castiel asks, frowning lightly.

"Frankly, because I couldn't stand being in the presence of the leader of Heolster—a snide, oily Demon named Crowley—let alone being allied with him and his Kingdom."

"But the leader of Aiathen?"

"I find her company much more palatable," Bela shrugs.

"You would choose your allies based purely on whose company you enjoy the most?" Anna asks, something taught and frustrated lacing her tone.

"Honestly, yes I would," Bela replies, sounding almost amused. For the first time in their interaction, Castiel thinks he can recognise a flicker of childishness cross the new Queen's mannerisms. "Wouldn't you choose your friends based on those you enjoy spending time with?"

"Being allied with a nation is not synonymous with friendship—it's far more severe than that, I'm afraid—and honestly, that's a lesson you ought to learn sooner rather than later. For your own good," Anna counters quickly.

"I'm well aware of that," Bela laughs lightly. "And Abaddon—the Demon Queen of Aithen—and her Kingdom's alliance with our own would be hugely beneficial for my Kingdom and my people. I'm sorry if that distresses you."

"In what ways would their alliance benefit yours?" Anna covers the anxiousness in her voice well, though Castiel is still able to pick up on it. Nervousness flutters through his system. "Is it nothing that the Angels can offer?"

"Aiathen and Heolster are currently facing a number of political tensions. Their two leaders aren't on the best of terms—and while the Demon Crowley seems to believe that he can walk all over my Kingdom on account of the fact that it is such a small land, that I am a new ruler, that I am a Queen rather than a King, that my father before me was closely tied with him and his Kingdom—" Bela lists dryly. "—Abaddon is the opposite. She—she's kind to me." The childishness returns, yet Castiel doesn't regard it in any kind of condescending or even pitiful manner. More than anything else, he thinks he understands it. "She offers me advice—good advice."

"Advice that will only benefit her."

"How do you know that?" Queen Bela frowns suddenly at Castiel. "Do you claim to know her heart? And do you really think that I am so undiscerning that I'd be unable to tell if her advice really were for my Kingdom's benefit or simply her own?"

"I didn't mean—"

"No, I know what you meant. I've heard it from the lips of countless people—countless men—"

"Castiel isn't a man."

"You know what I mean," Bela grits her teeth. "And I might be young—but I'm capable. And you might not think like Crowley—that I can't do it just because I'm a woman—a girl, no less—but he does think that. And Abaddon knows that I can rule this Kingdom with wisdom and grace and everything my father neither did nor possessed. And honestly, while you have no idea of what the Demons and Lucifer—yes I know about him—are planning, I do. So don't underestimate me."

"What do you know?" Castiel asks, worry winding across his features.

"Later," Bela brushes her hand through the air casually, suddenly having cooled down quite considerably. "The gist of all of this is—and my apologies for getting quite so side tracked—is that if some kind of war involving more than one nation against your own breaks out, Dione will not involve themselves."

"And Abaddon knows this?" Anna raises her eyebrows at the Human Queen.

"Abaddon knows this," Bela confirms.

"So Dione will not engage in war against the Angels, because of the Demons?"

"As far as I'm concerned," Bela sighs, crossing her legs, "Dione will attempt avoid war with any Kingdom at all costs."

"That doesn't quite answer the question." Castiel's sister frowns.

"Dione will remain uninvolved in any wars against your people and your Kingdoms, unless you give us good reason not t," Bela states. Anna nods gratefully.

"We'll do our best not to."

"Likewise."

Castiel becomes fairly certain that he is going to be sick by the time all the respective rulers of the other kingdoms begin arriving at the castle. He presses his lips into a thin line as Anna's hand grazes softly against the back of his own.

"It'll be fine," She says gently, her voice barely above a murmur.

"How can you be certain?" Castiel asks, watching as a pretty, dark, wavy haired human enters the hall, curtseying respectfully to Queen Bela. She looks only a few years older than Castiel. "He's going to be here—there's no doubt—and it's going to hurt, again—"

"It was always going to hurt, Castiel." Anna reminds, turning to face the younger Angel a little more. "Always. Loss has never been painless, and it would be foolishness to expect it to be so."

Castiel presses his mouth tightly shut and blinks back the stinging threat of tears at his eyes.

"Yes… but that knowledge doesn't make things any easier," He replies quietly.

"Of course not," Anna shakes her head. Castiel sighs, frame softening with despondency. His sister glances at him, her expression saddening a moment, before she slips her hand into Castiel's. There is a silence for a moment before she speaks again. "Do you remember all those books on love that you have read?" She asks quietly, her lips twitching upwards into an affectionate smile.

"Of course I remember."

"How many do you think you have read, roughly?"

"Hundreds," Castiel shrugs. "Most of the books that Humans write are about at least one form of love."

"And if they are not about love, they at least include love, in its many different forms, don't they?"

"How would you know?" Castiel frowns, turning a little to face his sister better.

"Please Castiel," She laughs lightly, rolling her eyes. "You are not the only one in our family who reads."

Castiel frowns again. He had never even considered this a possibility of his sister's character.

"What is your point, Anna?" He asks. He sounds a little more exhausted than he intends. Anna, to her credit, merely chuckles lightly at his tone and grazes her hand against Castiel's arm.

"My point, little brother, is that even with the absence of Dean in your life, you still have so many others who love you. And facing him today is not a task that you will be burdened with having to do alone."

"I have you," Castiel states, the words aimed at reminding himself of their truth as much as anything else.

"You have me," Anna repeats, breaking out into a warm beam. "And you always will."

Castiel exhales softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"And you have Gabriel—although whether or not that's a good thing is a thoroughly debatable issue," Anna laughs. Castiel snorts and turns back to face her.

"I ought to tell him you said that. I probably will."

"You probably will," Anna agrees, rolling her eyes.

"I have Michael, too." Castiel reminds.

"You have Michael, too." Anna nods. "And Samandriel. And Inias. And what is the name of that pretty dark haired Angel you befriended at Tyrzah—?"

"—Hannah." Castiel says, perhaps a little too quickly. Anna smirks triumphantly.

"Hannah," She repeats. "You have her, too."

Castiel swallows, nodding, and steels himself.

"Thank you, Anna."

Anna's hand squeezes at his shoulder again.

"Never forget how much I love you, little brother." She says softly. Castiel has to look at the floor, because a lump has risen to the back of his throat, and a swell of warm, splintering affection has flooded through him, along with the threatening press of tears at his eyes.

"I love you too, sister," He returns. Anna's hand slips back into Castiel's.

He is introduced to several Human rulers—the dark headed girl he saw earlier turns out to be the Lady Pamela, daughter of one of the Lords of Eofor—she seems kind and good-natured, smiling warmly to Castiel when learning his name.

And then a light brown haired Human enters the hall, his long haired brother following after him, and Castiel has to look away, because a stabbing pain goes shooting across his chest at the sight of this Human. He feels—he can sense—Dean's gaze pressing pointedly at his face. The Human is probably just as terrified at the sight of Castiel as Castiel is of him—except perhaps more so; Castiel was at least expecting to see Dean here, after all.

Castiel spends the next few moments looking anywhere but wherever Dean and his brother—and, Castiel is fairly certain, Sir Robert—happen to be lurking, but fortunately they are all instructed to take a seat at a wide round table, and Castiel tugs his sister to a seat of suitable distance away from Dean and his two companions. Now all that is left is continuing in avoiding looking at the Human.

Queen Bela sits at the most important looking seat; one of ornately decorated mahogany, and pauses a moment, her eyes grazing over each of the faces of the throng of rulers gathered in front of her.

"I'm assuming you've all been informed in your respective letters why it is I requested your presence in my Kingdom today," She says, her voice quiet yet commanding as she sits, looking slowly round the faces of the throng.

"We know that you have some ridiculous notion about uniting all of our Ancient Kingdoms into some kind of—pandemonium—and no doubt for your own good."

Murmurs of agreement echo across the table, but Bela's face remains utterly unperturbed, she stares pointedly, and with a coldness that is almost eerie, at the man who spat his protests at her intentions for an uncomfortable moment. Just when his face is beginning to prickle a disgruntled red, Bela tilts her head to the side and speaks once again.

"King Campbell, with all due respect, I'm certain that you wouldn't be voicing these 'concerns' quite so forcefully were it not for the history of my father's relations with you and your Kingdom."

"Why does that surprise you?" The man frowns. "Your history needs to be taken into account—"

"—Then rest assured that I have no intention of invading the marshlands of Corinna, as long as you and your armies remain away from our plains. I feel that I needn't remind you, but I will in any case, that I am not my father. And I have no intention of following in his footsteps."

Castiel glances around the circle to check if anyone else looks as uncomfortable as he feels—many do, which is reassuring—but then he makes eye-contact with Dean, for a sickening moment, and has looked away, feeling utterly nauseated in the next instant. His heart hurts again.

"Furthermore," Bela leans forward fractionally—Castiel is certain this time that others feel threatened by the motion as he does; but he glances to his sister to see a subtly amused smile playing at her lips. "Your description of a united Human territory being a 'pandemonium' is rather heavy handed, seeing as we haven't even touched upon any of my further plans or suggestions—wouldn't you agree?"

She doesn't give King Campbell the time to answer, but continues regardless.

"And while the affairs of Kings may be saturated with self-interest, I can assure that this is not the case for Queens—at least not in my experience, and certainly not in this case. I act for the good of all Humanity—for our own safety, for our own benefit. Do you not see how much more prosperous—both economically and socially—a united front of Humans would be?"

The Human chews the inside of his mouth for a moment

"Fine. Let's hear your plans, then," He mutters quietly. Bela's expression turns smug and triumphant, and for another brief moment she looks very much like the child she really is, again; seventeen years of age at the most.

"Before you progress any further," Anna speaks up, leaning forward in her seat and resting her forearms on the table—it's a small motion, but Castiel knows enough about discussions and politics to know how calculated and precise it is, "my siblings and I would like to know what your plans for Angel relations would be, were you to unite the Human territories. This question applies to each of you." Anna looks slowly over the faces of each of the rulers.

Bela shrugs nonchalantly.

"I've already explained to you my stance on the Angels and Dione's relations with them.," She states shortly.

"Then clarify," Anna replies. "Elaborate. And explain what you would have relations be within the context of the Earthly Realms united."

"Were it up to me, I'd have our Kingdom on good terms with yours," Bela states. "In an ideal world, that's how it would be."

"And in the real world?" Anna picks up on the nuance of Bela's language and frowns marginally, only letting a glimmer of concern flit across her features.

"That's a little more difficult to say, and you'd have to ask each of the other rulers gathered at this table," Bela gestures vaguely to the rest of the Humans around her.

"Well?" Anna raises her eyebrow at each of the faces of the rulers.

"I have no objections with remaining cordial with the Angels," King Campbell shrugs. The Lords next to him nod and murmur in vague agreement. "It's the Demons I don't trust, and considering Dione's history with them—"

"King Campbell, now is our chance to rewrite the future," Bela bristles in her chair, clearly growing impatient. "By all means, let us learn from the past—but not dwell on it—and certainly not to the extent that we forget to move forward—"

"You would have us allied with the Demons?" Campbell spits, turning in his seat to face Bela.

"I would have us allied with any Kingdom or people if their principles and morals were similar to my own—and by that I mean, fair and just—were it to benefit our own causes."

"You speak of principles, and yet—"

"King Campbell," Anna looks as though she's biting back the urge to sigh with exhaustion, "perhaps we ought to get back on subject?"

"Fine," Campbell's jaw clenches a moment. "Angel-Human relations would remain cordial, were it my decision."

"Only cordial?" Anna raises her eyebrows at the Human King. "Nothing more?"

"Time would tell," He shrugs. "I'm personally not hugely keen on forming alliances with Kingdoms or peoples that haven't been proven trustworthy to my kingdom personally."

"Understandable," Anna nods brusquely. "And I appreciate your honesty—as I'm sure the rest of my family would."

Campbell presses his lip together, subtle lines forming between his eyebrows, and nods once at Castiel's sister.

"And what of Eofor?" Anna asks, turning to face a dark skinned Human wearing a navy doublet with gold fastenings and silver embroidery of what Castiel thinks are leaves and winding vines.

"Eofor has always held close affections for Angels," He shrugs, a ghost of a wistful smile flickering across his features. "Considering our history—and despite the fact that over recent years, Angelkind appears to have favoured Hera, for whatever reason—we have always desired close relations with you and your people."

Anna bows her head and smiles politely a moment.

"Thank you," She nods. "Perhaps what with the unity of your four great Kingdoms, there would be a rekindling of Eofor and the Angel Kingdom's relations."

"I certainly hope so," He bows his head back at Castiel's sister.

"King Henriksen," One of the Lords sat beside the King of Eofor murmur something into his ear. He nods softly a moment, before turning back to Anna.

"My adviser has just reminded me of something," A quiet frown forms on his features. "Your brother's cancelled engagement with the King of Hera. How will this play into your relations with Humanity?"

Castiel had been praying that this wouldn't be brought up. Now that it has, his insides begin to crumple with despair. He looks out the window with the siren on it, focussing on the setting sun's glimmering light filtering softly through the creature's hair. He fumbles with his hands underneath the table, refusing, more than ever, to glance over to Dean. His heart hurts with a kind of homesick feel; as though he has been away on a strange long journey for months and there is no sign of him returning to where he comes from.

"It won't," Anna replies firmly. Castiel's eyes are stinging.

"How will you ensure that?" King Henriksen asks. "In Hera's interest, I feel that I ought to point out that this factor may cloud some of your judgements on their account—and cause, though I hate to say it—a general bias against them."

"I assure you that while your concerns are valid, it won't happen." Anna shakes her head. Castiel continues staring out the window.

"Yeah?" A voice that sends Castiel's stomach lurching down into his gut spits suddenly. It is the first time in the proceedings that this Human has spoken up. "And how can you guarantee that?"

Anna looks across to Dean—apparently just as shocked as Castiel—her eyes wide, a defensive frown hardening across her features.

"What do you mean?" She asks, her expression turning into something defiant.

"How can you guarantee any of what you just promised?" The green-eyed Human repeats, his top lip curling fiercely. He glares at Anna—pointedly not at Castiel, his face prickling red with anger and resentment.

"I suppose you'll simply have to take our word for it," Anna replies coolly. Her face is firmer than ever, becoming as resolute and unreadable as a stone.

"Yeah, see, that just isn't gonna happen," Dean shakes his head dryly. "'Cause the days of me—of Hera trusting the Angels? They're done. Over. Finished."

"Would you really cut off ties so readily?" Anna asks, inclining her head slightly to the side as she gazes thoughtfully at Dean. A quiet, permeating venom is dripping slowly into her tone, and it laces every one of her words with a fearsome kind of subtly that has Castiel feeling extremely nervous. "Merely for the sake of your own broken heart?"

"Try me," Dean leers.

"Anna—" Castiel says quietly, pressing his hand to her arm as his voice trembles—he's attempting to stop her from rising to Dean's goading, but it is apparently to no avail. Anna shakes herself from Castiel's grip without even turning back to look and him, and balls her fists as she continues to glare steadily at the Human.

"Why do you doubt so vehemently that the Angels would choose to act for your good?" She asks, her face turning a similar shade of red to that of her wings and hair. Castiel has to look away, creasing internally.

"You really think I'm going to believe that you guys give a shit?!" Dean spits incredulously. "That you actually care?"

"Why do you doubt it?!" Anna repeats, slamming the flats of her palms onto the table. The rulers of the Human Kingdoms flinch backward—that is, except for Bela, who regards the scene with something like quiet amusement, and King Henriksen, who looks more thoughtful than anything else. Dean, however, looks as though he is balanced on the knife's edge before becoming livid, and it seems he is about to topple over the verge of the blade.

"—'Cause the Angels – they don't care. I think maybe they just don't have the equipment to care. Seems like when they try, it just… breaks them apart," Dean states quietly, his frame trembling with anger and something not unlike like grief. "Look at their High King. Look at his twin. Look at what happened to their father. Any Angel that feels anything is bad news for us."

Castiel looks suddenly up at the Human, his heart in his throat, a simmering fury set into his blood. He doesn't expect Dean's eyes to graze over to his own face. Even less than this, he doesn't expect Dean's frame and expression to soften somewhat. He knows that the spark of hope it lights in his chest is futile, despondent, but he can't help it. Even when Dean's face hardens once again, and he looks quickly away from the Angel.

"What do you mean by that?" Castiel has somehow found his voice again—perhaps from the motion of looking Dean in the eye and having the Human return his gaze, even just for a moment. Dean's gaze snaps back to Castiel, clearly just as shocked as the Angel is that he has somehow managed to speak. Castiel stares steadily back at the Human now, his heart hammering at the cage of his chest, as Dean's face prickles with red.

"Lucifer, who killed my mother because your brother apparently loved one of us," Dean replies flatly. A murmur of confusion breaks out across the table—are they familiar with Castiel's brother's name? Castiel cannot for the life of him think how any of them would know of Michael's twin, and yet apparently they do. Perhaps word of all that has occurred between the members of Castiel's family has slipped down into the Human Kingdoms, also.

"Much as I enjoy watching the two of you battling out your personal life in front of all the Human royalty in our four Kingdoms," Bela interrupts any response Castiel would have been able to think of, and his eyes flick guiltily back to the hostess, tearing themselves away from Dean, "perhaps now ought to be the time that I interrupt—before things escalate any further—and urge us all to move forward?"

Dean nods, having looked suddenly down, his face more heated than ever. Castiel worries at his lip and resumes his previous activity of staring out the window.

There is something different about Dean—Castiel can sense it, even from way across the table, even when Dean speaks, even when Dean looks at him. And it's more than him merely being bitter and broken about the expiration of his and Castiel's relations; more than his recent delusions on the nature of Castiel and the rest of the Angels—something is off, something is different, something is wrong. Castiel frowns worriedly and swallows hard.

"Taxation," King Campbell starts abruptly, looking over to Bela suddenly. "How would that work? Would each Kingdom tax their citizens as normal, and an additional tax be placed upon them, on behalf of our continued unity?"

"I'd feel uncomfortable with that principle," The dark haired Lady—Pamela—presses her lips together. "Many of our citizens are already severely poor as it is—and how would this deal benefit them? If they are to pay more taxes, shouldn't they receive something directly from our unity?"

"Aside from better trade, peace, protection, and options for travel?" Bela raises her eyebrows at Lady Pamela.

"And what of the peasantry who merely work on farms? Who cannot afford to travel? What of those too old to travel? What—"

"Ideally, there would be some kind of minimum earning for those who would have to pay the tax. Either that, or a percentage of each of your Kingdom's taxes would be redirected, or redistributed—"

"Why should we do that?" Campbell interrupts Bela again, his face and tone growing increasingly frustrated. The Queen somehow manages to maintain her own indifferently even and empty expression.

"Are the reasons I highlighted above not a good enough justification?" She asks, a little incredulously. "With our Kingdoms united, there would be peace between each of us—translating to fewer lives lost in combat—mutual protection, as enemies would be less inclined to attack us; knowing our increased strength—and if they were to do so, our armies would be more than capable of handling it—"

"And our trade links would be strengthened, also?" Henriksen asks. Bela smiles and nods.

"That's the plan, yes."

"It sounds a noble idea."

"I'm not quite so keen," Campbell replies.

"We can tell," Lady Pamela looks as though she is resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"You certainly appear to have changed your tune—"

"—Because I expressed my concerns, and Queen Bela held a solution for them," Pamela sighs exasperatedly.

"A hypothetical solution—we don't know that it will work," Campbell corrects. Castiel groans softly and settles a little deeper into his chair. He catches Dean's eye for a moment—and were things not as they are, Castiel would pull an exhausted expression, and Dean would snort lightly and a mirror it, both of them stifling their own laughter… but things are not as they used to be. And Castiel looks away, keeping his face emotionless, soul slowly dying out inside.

He stares down at the table as debate sparks and bubbles around him. He hears Anna sigh quietly from next to him. This is more exhausting—and for more reasons—than Castiel could possibly have anticipated.

"Perhaps we ought to adjourn a moment," Queen Bela huffs out a resigned breath, pressing her thumb and forefinger to her temple and rubbing slowly. Castiel lets out an inward groan of relief—and by the looks of it, so do several others around the table. Campbell is still looking thoroughly argumentative, but despite this, he nods grudgingly and mutters an agreement, pushing back his chair and rising with his surrounding Lords and advisors.

"Come on, Castiel," Anna says, tugging Castiel up onto his feet as she rises and tucks her chair into the table. "Let's get out of here a moment. I've got headpains to the stars and there's no clear solution to any of these Humans' problems in sight. I think I need a moment to cry cathartically somewhere."

Castiel's lips twitch upwards despite himself, and he stands and follows his sister out of the hall as she tugs at the sleeve of his tunic.

"Where are we going, sister?" He asks, frowning lightly. Anna sighs again and steps out of one of the wide open doors leading to a small, well cultivated courtyard just outside, with the stride of one who undoubtedly knows where they are going. Castiel can smell the sea more than ever out here, and he breathes in the scent deeply, the tang of salt mingling in the air and now in his nostrils, along with the sweet scent of flowers hanging from the walls of the castle.

"Anywhere away from all those—" Anna cuts herself off and drags Castiel down some steps at the bottom of the courtyard, winding underneath a bridge and a narrow archway, before leading out to a rocky cliff quite far removed from the castle. Anna sits, sighing once more, on one of the wind-worn boulders looking out onto the sea. She slumps her shoulders, sitting with a slouched posture for the first time that day, groaning with fatigue. "Idiots," She finishes, breathing out the word exhaustedly. Castiel frowns and sits beside her, their wings brushing softly for a brief moment as he settles into his spot—rather uncomfortable as it is—on the great boulder.

"Queen Bela doesn't seem much of an idiot," He contends. Anna's lips twitch marginally upwards.

"No, that's true, I suppose," She nods in agreement. "She seems very level headed."

"And it's not her fault that she can't control the rest of them." Castiel reminds his sister.

"That's very true." Anna agrees once more.

"And the Lady Pamela—"

"—Seemed very rational." Anna nods, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. She inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of the ocean, a subtle smile twitching at her lips.

"You like it down here?" Castiel asks, mirroring his sister's expression almost unintentionally.

"I love it," Anna confirms, breaking out into a beam. "I always have."

"You've been here before?" Castiel asks, frowning suddenly.

"Once upon a time, Castiel, I wanted to live here," Anna laughs softly, her eyes still closed, running her hands over the coarse surface of the boulder they are seated on as though the touch is filling her with more life than she has ever been gifted before.

"What?" Castiel's frown worms a little more across his features. "You never told me that."

"No," Anna shakes her head. "I don't expect I did. Michael wouldn't have been best pleased if I had—but the thing is, little Seraph, I'm caring less and less for our King's instructions with every passing day."

This does nothing to extinguish the confusion now burning brightly at Castiel's gut.

"You're making very little sense."

"That doesn't surprise me," Anna mumbles. "I'm rather exhausted. From travel—and from Abra knows how many hours of sitting and listening to stubborn Humans sit and squabble over politics when very few of them seem to know how anything works."

Castiel sighs and looks out over the sea in front of them.

"Why did you want to come and live down here?" He asks again, watching as waves crash upon and consume one another. "And when?"

"Why does anyone want to come and live down the Human Kingdoms? Why did Michael? Why did you?"

"Love," Castiel frowns.

"Love," Anna repeats, lips twitching upwards, eyes slipping closed as though the word itself is food for her soul.

"You were in love?" Castiel asks. "With a Human?"

"There are more loves out there than the romantic kind, Castiel," Anna reminds, looking back up at Castiel. Castiel nods and glances out at the cliffs, sea-birds swarming over their surfaces and gliding in the air ahead, crying loudly. "I was in love," Anna continues, and Castiel's gaze snaps back to his sister's face, "With the landscape. With the culture. With the people, with the emotions, with the reality of it all."

"What does that mean?" Castiel frowns.

"You wanted to move to Hera, even though that castle is the ugliest I think I've ever seen." Anna's laughter bubbles over her lips before she appears able to stop it. "The forests were beautiful, granted—but that palace? A brick of carved grey stone and dark wood. Cruel-looking, imposing. It was built during a time when Humanity was feeling particularly practical and defensive—they were looking for something that appeared threatening to visitors—well, they succeeded on that front. They wanted something strong against attack—it's strong against Human attack, to be sure, but as we've seen, when it comes to protection against Angels and Demons alike, it falls rather short." She rolls her eyes, looking amused. "What else? Oh, yes, their ugly, imposing towers and fortresses built as defences around the Kingdom. Well, at least that depletes the possibility of debate over land-boundaries. But the point still stands. Those buildings look disgusting. Ugh," She finishes.

"Running a Kingdom isn't all about things looking nice," Castiel bites back, feeling quietly offended. Anna glances at him and snorts.

"You're feeling defensive." She observes "Sorry. All I'm saying is—Dean made all those other things worth it—so even though I didn't have a 'Dean' of my own—I had friends, I had the sea and the open sky and the cliffs and the birds," Anna gestures to the scenery in front of them, "I had my affinity for the Human's culture—and this—desire—to feel things as they felt."

"As I feel things?" Castiel asks, glancing back at his sister. His face feels heavy. Anna presses her lips together and gives the younger Angel a soft smile.

"As you feel things," She admits. "I wanted to be able to feel in the way you feel things. So entirely. So unhesitantly and passionately—I wanted that. Angels and our suppression of emotions? It's stifling. I hate it," She laughs emptily.

"So why didn't you fall? Why did you choose this life?" Castiel asks, frowning.

"I had my duties... And unfortunately, these didn't co-inside with my desire to live amongst the Humans."

"Duty?" Castiel almost glowers at the word.

"Duty," Anna repeats, sounding slightly bitter, "is of paramount importance when you are in a family such as ours."

"You mean it's of paramount importance to Michael?" Castiel asks.

"Michael considers all that occurred with Lucifer—and all that happened to our father as repercussions of this—to be due to his own personal shortcomings. He believes it's entirely his fault."

"I know that—" Castiel frowns, but Anna interrupts.

"He takes it as a failing on his part to perform his duty. Not carrying it out when he should have. And now, duty is his primary concern—perhaps because he doesn't want to repeat his past mistakes."

"But he cannot force the rest of us—"

"He considers himself the head of the family, Castiel." Anna sighs. "Since father's death, he believed it was he who should watch over each of us, as the oldest of the family."

"He still—"

"Michael is as complex as the rest of us," Anna runs a tired hand through her brilliant red hair. "And not as ready to admit that—or as easy to read or predict—as others might be. Very often, Castiel, I face a great deal of difficulty in attempting to dissect his actions."

"You mean his motivations are often unclear."

"No," Anna shakes his head. "I believe he always acts in what he thinks is our family's—and our people's—interests. Either that, or he will be attempting to carry out his 'duty', whatever form that may take. It's just that at some points in his life—increasingly often, in fact—his emotions have proven more than he can handle, and I don't think he knows how to react to that."

"Do you think he misses Lucifer?"

"I believe he misses him every day," Anna presses her lips into a thin line.

"Do you think he still loves Lucifer?"

"I don't—" Anna sighs and cuts herself off. "I can't believe Michael has been as close to anyone as he once was to Lucifer."

Castiel frowns, about to protest that his sister has not answered his question at all, but a servant coughing lightly into her closed fist interrupts him. He and his sister turn to face the girl.

"Her Majesty, Queen Bela, has called you back to the Great Hall. Discussions are commencing, once more."

Castiel sighs lightly and stands, glancing at his sister's exhausted expression.

"Thank you." He nods politely to the servant, who smiles nervously and scurries away in response. Castiel's lips twitch upwards.

"All things considered, Humans are shockingly endearing, are they not?" Anna laughs lightly at Castiel's side. Castiel glances to his sister and chuckles softly.

"Yes," He nods in agreement. "Very."

"Come on," Anna tugs at Castiel's arm, pulling him back up the steps up to the castle.

"When did you visit this Kingdom, Anna?" Castiel asks, glancing over to his sister as the sea wind blows her hair all about her head; turning it into a tumult of red.

"When I was even younger than you, little brother." She smiles, looking upwards at a few gulls that circle above their heads, calling out loudly into the open air to one another. "It was—oh, perhaps I shouldn't be telling you this…" She laughs, the sound gorgeously musical. "Well, I will, I suppose I've started now, so it would be unkind not to…"

Castiel gives her a quietly grateful look at her words as they trudge up the steep slope they descended earlier.

"I—I had actually been forbidden to do so by Michael. Or, not forbidden, but—we didn't visit the Human Kingdoms, anymore. Not since Lucifer left; and Michael realised he could not be with his beloved. This happened when I was nothing more than a baby, Castiel—I was so very young at the time, and so I never actually got to experience the Human world for myself. And so one day I just… flew…" She laughs, as though her words are providing her with some great sense of release, "away from Evadne, where I of course lived at the time, and I landed here." She gestures all around her, beaming warmly. "It was so overwhelming and real and raw that I almost cried. And the people were so real and welcoming and kind, albeit a little cautious—even to a young Angel girl who could be no more than seventeen. And so I began to travel down here regularly; I made friends and formed relationships and as I said; fell in love with everything… and then Michael found out, and forbade me from ever returning; saying that I was endangering the Kingdoms by doing this, that I was too young and had my duty back home… and of course those weren't really his reasons in forbidding me—but father sided with Michael, and the matter was decided."

She looks up at the clear, pale sky again.

"I have so missed this place."

Castiel thinks he sees tears clouding her vision.

"All those friends I made—well, they're probably dead," She looks forlorn, suddenly. "Of course." She shakes her head. "But they were good to me. Kind." She sniffs suddenly and looks back up again, expression changing quickly. "Here's a good game—how many times do you bet King Campbell will disagree with the Queen of Dione, merely for the sake of it?"

"Um—" Castiel's confused though quietly sad laughter bubbles over his lips. "I'm not quite sure—"

"I'm going to go for more than ten."

"That's fairly low." Castiel points out.

"You think he'll venture above that mark?" Anna snorts incredulously.

"Way above." Castiel tilts his head back and laughs. "Twenty."

"Twenty?!" Anna repeats, mocking a horrified tone.

"We'll be here for about three days." Castiel shakes his head mournfully.

"With no breaks."

"Kill me now," Castiel groans as the re-enter the castle—but freezes in his tracks as he spots Dean.

Dean spots him too—he is in the presence of another man—a man Castiel has never seen before. The two of them had been previously caught in deep conversation—the man, whom Castiel assumes is a knight, looks older than both himself and Dean. He has a tall, wide and muscular frame, a short beard and gentle grey eyes. Castiel presses his lips together—something jealous curls in his gut while his heart tears a little more in half—his eyes are threatening to glaze over with the sting of tears, but Anna tugs sharply at Castiel's sleeve, pulling him into the hall, and honestly Castiel is rather thankful for the touch.

"Ignore him," Anna mutters softly. "Pretend he's not here, that nothing hurts, and things will be a lot easier today."

"Easier said than done."

"I know, but… just, pretend everything's fine, just for now. And then when we get home, we can do whatever you like to make you feel better. Whether that's finding some beautiful young Angel for you to fall in love with—" Castiel snorts at the unlikeliness of the sentiment. "—Or reading, or talking about how much of an ass Dean is—"

Castiel laughs and slips his arm around Anna's shoulder, squeezing her into his side.

"There's not a day that passes where I'm not grateful that I have you," He mutters warmly to his sister.

"Likewise," Anna chuckles. "It's just quite depressing that you stand so much taller than me, now, and that you can slip your arm around me with quite so much ease—while I can barely reach your shoulder."

"You're exaggerating." Castiel chuckles.

"Yes, I am, rather a lot," Anna admits, giggling lightly. "But you have grown an extraordinary amount."

"That's what people do, sister," Castiel reminds.

"You've turned rather patronising in your years, too," Anna chortles, seating herself at the table once more. Castiel snorts and sits himself next to her.

"I learnt from the best."

Anna elbows him lightly, suppressing a smile threatening to spread wide across her lips.

"I think I prefer attending discussions such as these in your company far more than either Gabriel or Michael," She mumbles softly. Castiel cannot help but break out into a beam at her words.

"And why is that?" He asks, attempting to keep the amusement warming his insides from causing too many inflections in his voice.

"Because Gabriel—as you've noted on multiple occasions—is an ass," Anna explains. Castiel snorts into his fist in response. "And Michael is nowhere near as fun as you," She finishes, smiling warmly. Castiel grazes his hand against his sister's shoulder.

"I really am impossibly glad to have you, Anna."

"You've gone soft," Anna chuckles, looking away, her face tinged with pink. Castiel rolls his eyes and is about to respond, when Queen Bela and Dean seat themselves at the table—the man Dean was with just a moment earlier would seem to have disappeared—and just like that, the discussion has commenced once more.

Castiel sighs inwardly and settles a little further into his seat. He thinks he can feel Dean's gaze press at the side of his face as he turns to look at Queen Bela—but he doesn't look back at the Human. To do so would be to break his heart a little further. Eventually the discussion dies down a little, and Queen Bela rises and exits to speak alone with Campbell, who still seems to be stubbornly refusing to cooperate for any given amount of time. Castiel glances up to see Dean conferring with the same knight he was speaking to earlier, who has appeared beside him at the table, and something fractures inside the Angel's heart to witness this.

Castiel's jaw clenches—he rises and pushes back his chair, ready to leave. Anna's hand touches his arm lightly.

"Castiel—"

"I need some air," Castiel shakes his head and sighs tiredly, pulling away from his sister. He exits stiffly, feeling more pairs of eyes than just his sister's trained on him. Once out of the hall, he takes a gasping sigh of a breath in, then another out. He's afraid he's going to cry; though he is not at all sure why this is.

Nobody had ever told him love would hurt this much.

"Castiel," A familiar voice, rough and warm with gravel sounds behind the Angel. Castiel's heart stutters and stops inside his chest—because it feels like years since he last heard Dean speak to him in this way, let alone heard something like warmth rumbling at the Human's voice. But the little hope he had lit inside the cage of his chest dissipates quickly as he turns to face Dean, his frame rigid and face set in unreadable resolution.

"Dean—"

"I just—" Dean shakes his head, brushing Castiel's moment of speech aside. "—I've been talking to Sammy, and I—" He cuts himself off and stares at the floor, his jaw clenching and unclenching a moment. "—Whatever you felt for me—and honestly, I really don't know what that was, anymore—but, whatever it was… I want you to know that everything I told you was true. That all of it was real. That I really did—that I still—"

And then the Human stops and looks away again, eyes clouded over. His body trembles as a feather would in the wind. Castiel wants desperately to reach over to the Human and touch him lightly, press his hand to Dean's body and remind him that he's here, he always will be, that Castiel will never leave him.

"You told me you cared. You promised me you'd always be there." Dean breaks out, as though the words have been pressing at his lungs for so long that to contain them for any longer would be agony—and as he snaps his gaze back up to the Angel tears begin to glisten in the Human's eyes. "—You promised, but you lied to me," He repeats, his voice rough and broken in his throat. Castiel takes a step towards Dean, and senses once again the strange something in the air, something about the Human that seems off, wrong, strange. "You could've just gone through with it as an arranged marriage—but you made me believe you—and wasn't it cruel enough, to force a Human into marriage? Why did you have to lie? And you promised me you'd always be there—"

"I did promise," Castiel nods quietly. "And I am."

"You weren't—" Dean shakes his head, tears brimming at his eyes. "You lied—"

"No, Dean," Castiel shakes his head quickly, softly. "I didn't, please believe me—"

"You—"

"I don't know what it was Lucifer told you—but it wasn't true. Or, not all of it. Not the things he said about me. Not the things he said about my feelings for you."

"That's not true—"

"It is, Dean—I know you're confused—but he lied—he lied, and of course I cared for you, and of course I'll always be here for you—I'll never leave you—"

Dean shakes his head and takes a step back, but Castiel presses forward, closing the space created between them with just as much ease.

"Don't—" Dean shakes his head, almost shouting with his raw, broken voice, holding out his arms to stop Castiel coming any closer, and the Angel stops, his gaze pressing at Dean's face—Dean's eyes seem so different, now, and Castiel cannot pinpoint why or how for the life of him. They are filled with more pain and exhaustion than Castiel had previously believed Humans with their flimsy and changeable and oh so breakable hearts could cope with.

"There is something different about you," Castiel frowns slowly. "...In you, perhaps…" Dean freezes, eyeing Castiel slowly and nervously—the stabbing silence that falls between them lasts only a moment, before Dean shakes his head sharply and attempts to pat Castiel on his shoulder—which is such an odd motion for Dean to take up at this moment, so unnatural considering his current feelings towards Castiel—and he seems to realise this, because he falters a moment and the same anger and bitterness flash behind his eyes as though he is reminding himself yet again of all that he believes that Castiel has done to him.

"I'm fine—" He shrugs, not at all convincingly, but Castiel seizes the Human's wrist—Dean's face hardens with both resentment and fear—and instinctively, though he has no idea why, Castiel turns it over, tugging up the sleeve of Dean's shirt on his right arm to reveal a red, angry mark in foreign lettering that seems oddly and unpromisingly familiar burnt onto his forearm. It stirs something dark deep inside of Castiel's gut to gaze at, and in the back of his mind something flashes with warning—he knows what this mark means. Or, he thinks he does. Perhaps it is instinctive, or the memory of a memory, but he looks back up to Dean's face to glare at the Human, and finds the Human glaring back at him just as forcefully, lip curling.

"What have you done?" Castiel's voice is lower and more dangerous than he has ever heard it before, and he glowers at the Human, who glares defensively back at him, wrenching his arm sharply out of Castiel's grip.

"It's the means to an end," He replies, voice trembling slightly, but he speaks with a forced firmness. Castiel knows that Dean is putting this on—he always does this when feeling angry and defensive yet afraid, and resentment and frustration boil up inside of Castiel in the knowledge that Dean is just so fucking impossible to deal with—so contrary and stubborn and stupid.

"Dammit, Dean—" Castiel sighs, ready to give Dean any kind of lecture he can think of on what it is the Human has done by consorting with Demons and what is more, Demon magic—but Dean merely raises his eyebrows at the Angel, the circles under his eyes becoming still more evident, and something inside of Castiel softens. Something inside of him fills with a desperate longing and desire, and he misses the Human, and he wants to be able to say this to him, but he can't. Because all that they used to be is now broken. Dean's eyes are set in deeper to his skull, somehow—they look more tired than Castiel has ever seen them, and as Dean presses his lips together, he averts his gaze uncomfortably. "—Just—" Castiel is struggling to find his words. "Just don't make any more deals with Demons—don't consort with them any more—I need to speak to Anna—I mean it—we can fix all of this, I'm sure—we can—"

"What if I don't want it fixed?" Dean asks, raising his eyebrows at Castiel as he shifts his gaze back to the Angel. "What if this is the best way? What if this is the only way?"

"The only way to what?" Castiel frowns, stepping closer to the Human, who takes another step back. "God, Dean, what are you talking about? What have you done?!"

"The only way to save—" He shakes his head suddenly, cutting himself off. "—It doesn't matter," He finishes, looking away, a troubled frown pinching his eyebrows together.

"Yes, it does," Castiel replies firmly. "Tell me—"

"Since when did you fucking care, anyway?" Dean snaps, his voice raising suddenly. "Since when did you actually give a shit about me and my feelings?"

"Since the moment we met, Dean!" Castiel scowls. "Ever since—"

"Bullshit!" Dean bites back quickly.

"You are not inside of my mind, Human!" Castiel shouts. "You never were! You never knew what I was thinking!"

"Yeah," Dean glowers. "That's why it was so easy for you to betray me."

"I never—"

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Samuel enters the empty hall in which Dean and Castiel are stood, and stops when he realises who it is he has interrupted Castiel mid-shout.

"Sorry—" He shakes his head, ready to step out, but Dean turns and shoves past him.

"Don't be," He mutters. "I was just leaving, anyway."

"You can't save everyone, Dean," Castiel reminds, his voice breaking off in his throat. Dean falters for just a moment, only turning his head marginally over his shoulder to mutter a bitter;

"Yeah. Like you'd fucking know."

Castiel clenches his fists and digs his nails into his palms to stem the press of tears at his eyes as Dean turns away again.

"C'mon," The Human tugs at Sam's sleeve, but the younger boy does not exit just yet. Dean's lip curls, but he storms back into the Great Hall, not looking back. Samuel looks at Castiel a moment with his big, hazel eyes, the worried expression gnawing at his features a moment.

"Hello, Samuel," Castiel nods cordially, blinking back his tears. He swallows around the lump inside his throat, resisting the urge to sob or yell or both. "You're well, I trust?"

Sam shrugs and glances down a moment.

"Listen, Cas," He starts, his voice uneven. "Dean—Dean doesn't know what he's talking about. He's—he's getting more and more paranoid—and he's not himself—and if he was himself, and if things hadn't happened the way they did—well, maybe Dean would believe the truth—the truth about you, and everything you—" He cuts himself off a moment, as though thinking over how to phrase his next sentence, before speaking again. "And I know—I know you always had feelings for him. I know you weren't lying to him, ever. You'd never do that."

Castiel sighs softly.

"Thank you, Sam," He nods. His eyes hurt with the threatening press of tears. Samuel's lips twitch upwards. He, much like his brother, does not seem himself. He is pale and has sunken eyes and dark bags beneath each of them, and something about him seems flimsier, more breakable than before. "Sam?" Castiel calls, just as it looks as though the younger Human is bracing himself to leave their admittedly rather awkward interaction. Sam looks up questioningly at Castiel. "You keep an eye on him," Castiel says softly. Something in Samuel's expression breaks—in an instant, it is more exhausted, more despondent than ever. He nods, the worry gnawing at his features, his eyes red, and leaves quickly. Perhaps he does not wish for Castiel to see him cry. Castiel thinks he understands.

…

"Brother," Gabriel grins as soon as Castiel and Anna arrive at the ornate gates of Theia. "And sister," He beams at Anna, pulling their sister tight into his arms before turning to Castiel again and doing the same. Castiel muffles a greeting in return into Gabriel's tight grip of an embrace.

It has been several months since Castiel was last in his brother's Kingdom—the sight of it stretching out ahead of him is somewhat relieving—something new and refreshing hangs quietly in the air. Castiel glances up at the huge golden gates of the inner city, as tall as they are wide, beautiful and welcoming in design. This city was never designed to be imposing. It is known by many as The Travellers' Haven, or the Kingdom of Gold, and with good reason. None of its design is intimidating, though all of it is magnificent and elegant.

The city is a sanctuary for travellers, merchants and traders, as well as those fleeing from their past for whatever reason. Frankly, Castiel feels as though he is doing the same. Toward the top of the gates, and divided equally between each of them, lies the golden emblem of a phoenix, wings spread wide apart on either side of it as it gazes down at Castiel with fiery eyes that ought not to seem so passionate and animated considering their stillness. Golden carved flames surround the bird, and seem to ripple off the image, their tongues winding their way in spiral-like patterns around the entire body of each of the gates; Castiel is thus forced to remind himself again that there is a very good reason for all the Angel Kingdoms being renowned amongst the Earthly Realms for their architecture.

The gates swing open as Gabriel draws a step back from Castiel and toward the city.

"Perhaps we ought to make our way inside?" He asks with a grin. Castiel's lips twitch upwards involuntarily.

"Perhaps," He nods in confirmation, glancing back at Anna. She smiles warmly at the look Castiel gives her and presses a soft hand to his shoulder to push him forward.

"It's been a while since you were here last," Gabriel states, ambling along the clustered streets lined with buildings all stretched up high above their heads, all interconnected with arches and bridges and balconies, all built of pale shimmering stone and light wood. The sun dances brightly off their surfaces. Theia holds so much life.

Angels move about their business around them, busy with their affairs and chores—sounds of those haggling with shopkeepers or calling for their children or friends swim gently through the air, not intrusive nor angry, not urgent in the slightest. A sense of peace is already beginning to wash over Castiel. It's warmer here than in Evadne; Theia's mountains are somewhat lower than the aptly named High Kingdom's, and a little further south.

"It has been." Castiel nods absently, his eyes darting all around him. An Angel with hair as flaming a red as his sister's stands behind a market-stand, handing another Angel a brilliant cloth of shimmering emerald. For a horrible moment, the colour reminds Castiel of Dean's eyes. He scans the rest of the table's contents—all of silks and other fine cloths, vibrant in colour, before making eye-contact with the trader for only a second. The young merchant winks at Castiel with a dancing, sharp brown gaze. Castiel flushes. Gabriel catches the interaction and smirks softly.

"You know, Castiel, you've become quite the heartthrob over the past few years. Have you even realised that?"

"No, he definitely hasn't," Anna grins widely, pinching Castiel lightly on his wing. "If his head were any further up in the clouds, we wouldn't be able to see it."

"If his head were any further up in the clouds, he probably wouldn't know the rest of us existed," Gabriel chuckles. Castiel rolls his eyes and looks away. "You know, little Sarim, ought to find a companion during your stay here. You're looking a little lonely."

"What makes you think I want a companion?" Castiel asks, a frown pinching at his features. "And in any case, I'm not sure the company you have in mind is the kind that I desire."

"Whatever you say, Cassie," Gabriel says in mock-surrender, holding up his hands in some kind of sign of a teasing defeat. "Still hung up on Dean, are we?"

"I'm not sure that 'hung up' is quite the expression that I would use to describe it, no," Castiel scowls over to his sibling. "And still paying others for the pleasure of their company, are we?" He returns.

"I don't have to pay," Gabriel grins widely. "Lovers flock to me, in any case. And it's not as though there's anything wrong with the profession of—paid company," He says, grinning and waggling his eyebrows—Castiel blushes and looks away, nauseated, "anyway. So stop being pretentious."

"—If Michael could hear you—" Anna sighs, cutting her brother off with a tired tone.

"Michael isn't here, thank Abra," Gabriel brushes off with a careless shrug. His expression turns teasing again as his gaze returns to Castiel. "And still a virgin, are we?"

Castiel scowls and scuffs his foot on the ground with how hard he begins stomping through the town.

"Don't rise to it, Cassie," Anna reminds. "He's only teasing."

"He knows nothing," Castiel glares at his brother. "Nothing at all."

"That's because you never share anything, Sarim." Gabriel rolls his eyes in an over-punctuated manner, as though Castiel is being exceedingly difficult not to be exasperated by. "You never tell us how you feel or what's going on with you and—"

"—That's because it's over, Gabriel," Castiel cuts across his sibling before he can speak any further. "And I don't want to talk—or even think about it, anymore."

A stabbing silence follows Castiel's words wherein Anna glares harshly at their brother. Castiel probably ought not to be so defensive, but he's tired—especially after his trip to Dione; especially after seeing Dean with his companion—whatever kind of companionship it is the two of them happen to share.

Gabriel lets out a soft, remorseful sigh from next to Castiel and makes his way up the white-gold steps of the palace, the surfaces of which are covered with winding golden vines and leaves pressed into the rock. These shimmer in the sunlight. Castiel and Anna follow slightly behind. Even as siblings, it is rude to impose on one another's kingdoms.

"I hope you pick up over your stay here, brother," Gabriel says with a small, apologetic smile. "You're no fun when you're upset."

"I fear that I'll remain 'no fun' for the rest of my life, in that case," Castiel admits, looking away.

"I'm sure you're wrong," Anna frowns. "And definitely exaggerating. You'll pick up. You just need time away from Humans and their—"

"It's not that Dean cancelled our engagement, anymore," Castiel bites, interrupting his sister. Both Gabriel and Anna turn to frown at him.

"Then what is it?" Anna asks.

Castiel bites his lip nervously, unsure of how to answer.

"I don't know…" He admits. "But Dean is—" He pauses. "I really don't know," He says. He glances back up to his siblings. "Perhaps we ought to discuss this inside."

Gabriel presses his lips together and finishes his ascent up the steps. The doors of the palace are left wide open, inviting, and Castiel and Anna follow their brother through them.

They make their way into one of the palace chambers.

"So, Castiel, what is it that's bothering you?" Gabriel asks, sitting at the head of the great oak table placed in the centre of the room. Castiel turns to face his brother, sighing and sitting down.

"Dean," He starts, watching as his brother's lips twitch instantaneously upwards.

"So it is about Dean!" He grins, his serious façade now all but completely forgotten.

"I think there's something wrong with him," Castiel clenches his jaw, ignoring his brother's infuriating mannerisms as best he can.

"What?" Anna asks, frowning softly. She presses her lips together before speaking again. "He did seem a little—off—for want of a better word, in Dione." She admits.

"He did." Castiel nods.

Gabriel's grin falls somewhat.

"Why do you think that?"

"He wasn't himself," Castiel shrugs.

"Could that not be explained by a broken heart?"

Castiel looks down, his own heart aching somewhat, and shakes his head.

"No," He says decisively. "Definitely not."

"Then what do you think is wrong with him? What makes you think there was something wrong?"

"He—" Castiel is struggling to find his words. "—He looked unwell. Very much so. As did his brother."

"Perhaps they were just ill?"

"No," Castiel shakes his head. "That can't have been it."

"Perhaps you just want something to be wrong, as an excuse to think about him? Or be sad?" Gabriel suggests. Castiel looks up and squints at his brother. However unusual it is for him to come up with a comment both as perceptive and serious as this one, this isn't the case.

"No," Castiel shakes his head again. "Something was very wrong with him, I'm certain of it."

"What do you think it was, then?" Anna asks, leaning forward from where she sits and brushing the tips of her fingers across the back of Castiel's hand.

Castiel presses his lips together, his face lining with worry, before replying.

"He'd visited one of the Demon Kingdoms only a few months prior to our meeting in Dione. On more than one occasion, I suspect."

Anna's frown weaves its way across her face.

"And what did he do there?" She asks.

"The first visit—" Castiel sighs and breaks off. "I don't think anything happened to him, specifically. But something made him go back again—something made it so that he had to go back again—and then something bad happened. Something really bad."

"Castiel, what do you mean?" Anna asks. Her expression is more worried than Castiel has seen it in a long time.

"I don't know, for certain—" He stammers.

"Then what do you know?"

"—I saw—on his arm—"

"Saw what?" His sister presses.

"A mark," Castiel answers, strangely reluctant to speak, as though to name it is to will bad luck into existence. "I don't know what it meant—I only know that it was in one of the Demonic languages—one of the most ancient of all of them; it looked like some of the runes I have studied with my tutor. I could—tell—that was what it was. And I—"

Gabriel's face has turned suddenly more sombre than Castiel thinks he has ever seen it.

"Dean was wearing a Demon mark?"

"I don't—" Castiel stammers. "I don't know what—"

"As a sign of solidarity?" Anna raises her eyebrows, glancing worriedly over to Gabriel for a moment. He glances back at her, the look he gives in response supposedly intended not to be for Castiel's eyes also, but the younger angel stares pointedly at his siblings, dissecting each of their movements in an attempt to untangle all that they believe to be occurring. Gabriel shakes his head once, shortly, to Anna's question, pressing his lips together. Anna looks as though she is not surprised by his answer and is instead rather disappointed. But surely Dean not showing solidarity with the Demons would be a good thing? The Angels are at war with them, after all, and—

"You're sure the mark was Demon?" Gabriel asks, leaning forward from where he sits. It's less out of interest and more out of worry.

He finds it horribly unnerving to see his brother in a mood so unusually severe.

"I'm sure," Castiel nods. "I mean—I've only seen a few Ancient Demon texts, and I could never decipher them—I never properly learnt—but…"

"But you could recognise it," Gabriel nods, sighing softly—in defeat?—and looking down at his hands, crossed in front of him and resting softly on the table. It's a statement, not a question, as though he understands. Castiel nods.

"Essentially, yes."

"Not a tattoo of sorts?" Anna asks. "A sigil, perhaps?"

Castiel shakes his head slowly. Anna looks caught on the knife's edge between crestfallen and fearful.

"It was like it was burnt onto his skin, the way one would mark cattle. But… angrier—the mark had not healed the way other burns would; it was more raw, almost glowing—"

Anna's face crumples still further. Gabriel looks down.

"As though with magic?"

"As though with magic."

"Castiel, could you tell me what it looked like?" Anna asks. She is the sibling to lean closer toward Castiel, this time. Her red hair, untied, brushes the softly glittering surface of the granite table they sit at.

Castiel nods again.

"It was like…" He struggles to recall, struggles to find his words. "Like a rod, or a scythe. That sort of shape. With two short marks beneath the blade of the scythe, if you like, one after the other. That's how I remember it."

"Could you draw it?"

Castiel nods, pacing over to the corner of the room where a roll of parchment lies next to a quill and pot of ink, ready for the purpose of drawing up treaties or charters.

He sits down again and sketches out as rough an outline of what he saw on Dean's forearm as he can.

Gabriel looks back up to Castiel, now. His face is set hard with worry and fear and Castiel's heart rises into his throat because the look is the most unpromising thing he thinks he's ever beheld; and then he turns to his sister—kind, brave, impossible Anna—and he realises that this is the most unpromising expression he thinks he's ever seen. He's seen her afraid before. Only once—only when Michael looked as though he were about to smite her off of the earth for comparing him to Lucifer—and now she looks filled with more terror than Castiel would have ever thought her capable.

"What?" He asks. But somehow, in the pit of his soul—and he has no clue of how exactly this could be—he thinks he already knows. "What is it?"

"We need to tell Michael," Is all Anna says, her throat dry and rough. "We need to summon him here, right now. I'm sorry Castiel—but these are matters far beyond our capabilities."