Chapter Text
It was a Tuesday, business day for Castiel. He had washed all of his herbs last week and let them out to dry in the warm sun, their strong scents wafting through the forest. He now bundled them together, tied snugly with homemade twine. With a strong heave onto his back, Castiel was ready to head into town. He leaves small pinches of old bread along the path for the birds and rolls over a log to reveal to them a healthy serving of worms and maggots. When he reaches the town, the sun has just risen and only a few men off to the fields are awake. He finds his familiar booth in the market square and begins to set out his herbs in organized rows. The prices are stated on a small board just in front of it. 11 bronze coins for one staff*, one silver for ten. When he has finished, he takes out his flute and plays it lazily to no specific tune. It is only within minutes of this that mothers with empty baskets and purses full of coins show up to do their shopping. Some of them are dressed well and their children are fat and lazy as they run around the square, tugging at each other's pigtails and shirt hems. They buy his herbs in hefty amounts of which are the finest quality at the lowest price. Some mothers have very little and their children are thin and weak. When the others are not looking, he sneaks them some of his herbs and whispers to her a recipe of good health.
The day is almost at it's end. Castiel has just finished the sandwich he bought from a neighbor merchant when he hears someone scream. He stands up from his chair, looking out over his booth and into the crowd on the other side of the market. The commotion is growing and Castiel leaves his spot to investigate. The other merchants yell at him, "Come back! Someone is going to steal your goods, silly Herb Merchant!" but he does not listen. He's almost to the group of people when a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties, bolts out of the crowd. The people are in uproar and look as if to chase after her, but she slams into Castiel, nearly causing him to fall back. He wraps his arms around her as she realizes where she is. She looks up at him for he is very tall. Her hair is in large curls and waves that reach just beyond her shoulders. Her eyes are a beautiful chestnut brown and her cheeks are full and pink. She struggles against him but he is too encompassed to release her. "Let me go!" she screams. Castiel shakes his head and unlocks his arms from around her. She stumbles back, looking at him with fear. The mob is still yelling at her as she runs past him into the forest. He turns to watch her go, still fascinated by the poor woman. He could tell her poverty from the dirty and torn dress she wore and the dirt on her hands and feet.
"Hey, Herb Merchant! Why did you let her go? You let that thief get away!" a mother calls out, her toddler bundled up against her bosom. Castiel says nothing, retreating back to his booth. The crowd disperses, many of them grumbling about the supposed thief. The sun begins to set and Castiel packs his things back into his bag, closing his booth until a different day. His load is much lighter having sold nearly all of his herbs and hiking up the hill is not so tiring. He reaches his home at dusk, as he always does, setting his bag down by the door. He stretches out his arms and back and makes himself a meal. The cornbread he had been baking in his oven is done and he puts out the simmering coals with a pitcher of water. He opens a window to let the smoke out and fries a slab of ham and two eggs on the stove. He eats his dinner with a tall glass of milk and when he is done, he takes off his thick poncho and boots before climbing into bed. He blows out the candle and rolls over onto his side. Just as he's about to drift into unconsciousness, he hears something move. He leans up, rubbing his right eye. It's dark and difficult to see. He begins to lie down again when something moves in the darkness. He immediately reaches for the matches on his bedside table, striking one and lighting the candle.
Standing in the middle of the room is the servant girl from earlier. She's frozen, eyes wide and staring at him, a piece of cornbread stuffed into her mouth. She turns to bolt but Castiel stretches out his hand to her, "Wait! Don't go!" She stops and turns to look at him again, confused and scared. He slowly puts a foot down on the ground, his hands up in surrender. She gives him a skeptical look, but doesn't move. When Cas is standing up completely, he speaks.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says calmly. She swallows the cornbread before answering.
"I figured that. I'm more worried you're going to turn me in." Her voice is smooth and flowing, but acidic and sharp at the same time.
"I have no intention of doing that, either." She relaxes a bit, looking around his humble shack.
"So what are you going to do with me, then?"
"I- I don't know." She rolls her eyes, sitting down in the cushioned rocking chair where Castiel did most of his writing.
"Okay, well, I'm not going back out there." The room is silent for a moment as they both come to realize their only option. "You can put your arms down," she says. Castiel realizes his arms are still up in surrender and he awkwardly brings them to his sides.
"I suppose you could...um, stay here." The girl looks at him in disbelief.
"What? Really?"
"Yes." She smiles a smile that takes up her whole being, its energy radiating out and making Castiel smile himself.
"I guess I should tell you who I am, huh?" The way she says this is so solemn that Castiel is smacked out of the bliss her smile had brought him and he almost has to shake his head to catch up.
"Not if you aren't comfortable."
"You're way too trusting, you know that?"
"I don't see how you could possibly bring me much trouble. I have very little to steal that is of any value. I am stronger than you so you could not possibly overtake me." She snorts.
"Don't be so sure, hot-shot." Castiel's eyebrows furrow in concern, but the girl laughs, leaning over from her chair to lightly punch his shoulder. "Hey, I'm just kidding. Lighten up." He rubs the spot where she punched him, but smiles in his attempt to "lighten up". "Anyway, my name is Meg. You?" Castiel just stares at her for a minute, confused as to what she was asking of him. "Your name, stupid."
"Oh," he says quietly. He wasn't used to people asking him his name. "Castiel. My name is Castiel."
"Huh. That's an interesting name. Don't think I've heard it before."
"It's a family name."
"Uh huh....So, uh, where am I sleeping?" Castiel is staring at her eyes. They're dark and alluring and like a fish on a hook, he is reeled in towards them. "Um, helloooo?"
"Oh, uh, you can sleep in my bed. I'll sleep on the floor."
"Don't be silly, I can't take your bed!"
"You are my guest, it is my pleasure."
"I'm not your guest; I'm your fugitive in hiding. I can sleep on the floor."
"No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes!" Castiel throws his hands up in exasperation, glaring at her.
"Why won't you just take my bed and let it go?"
"Because it doesn't feel right. The least I could do is share it with you." Castiel purses his lips, pondering the idea.
"That would not be a very good idea."
"Why not? Because I'm a girl and you're a man? I'm not going to seduce you-- unless you're willing." Castiel's face goes hot and Meg laughs. "We really need to work on that lacking sense of humor you've got."
"My bed is not very big. You would be uncomfortable."
"Cas, where I come from, two people to a bed that size is a luxury. Trust me." There was no winning with her so Castiel finally gives in. Just as she is about to crawl into the bed, Castiel stops her.
"Wait," he says. He opens up his dresser and pulls out a long shirt and tosses it to her. "We can clean your clothes in the morning, but for now, sleep in this. It's much cleaner."
"Thanks," she says quietly. He can tell she is touched by his charity and kindness. He turns to allow her to change. She crawls into the bed, patting the small empty spot next to her. He gets in and they sleep back-to-back. He barely fits on the bed and has a hard time falling sleep, but Meg crashes almost immediately, snoring ever so lightly. He figures this must be the best night's sleep she's had in a very long time.