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Once upon a time, there was a man named Dean, who had sailed the seven seas. He had fought Kraken and giant sea snakes, fell over board more than once in high waters, but always made it back to the harbour safely.
He was smart and strong, a great mate, a caring fellow, weatherproof and on to every dodge. But after years of fighting and hard labour, he returned to his home village, where his brother and oldest friends still lived.
He settled down at the riverbank, fishing in the shallow waters, day in, day out. He still loved working outside, the usual soft breeze of the Rhine Valley a nice change to salty winds and sunburnt skin. He caught enough to feed the village and to sell some more on the local market a town over, enough to be happy. He didn't need much more.
Dean was a good looking man, and many a woman turned his head, some lads, too. But Dean never found someone to give his heart to fully, just to warm his bed and his lonely soul for a night or two.
He watched his brother Sam marry and settle down, was witness to the birth of his beautiful nieces and nephews, who he bobbed on his knees, taught how to steal the best apples from Mrs Moseley's garden, and how to swim in the river safely.
Dean was happy at last, the homesickness gone and only a small part of his heart not filled. Maybe finding his true love just wasn't meant to be. His life was full of joy and colour. What more could he want?
***
Castiel was a cursed man, struck by the imprecation of a witch, who had meant to maledict his father, King Chuck, but instead cursed him by mistake at the tender age of three.
At first, nothing seemed to have happened after the witch had spoken incarnations and swirled her powers through the great hall. But it only took a few days and the prince's weekly bath that they learnt of the true nature of the curse.
Screams coming from the prince's chamber alerted the guards and soon enough, the King himself hastened to his son's room, finding him healthy and chuckling, the huge tail of a fish hanging over the rim of the wooden bathtub and gills adorning his neck.
Otherwise, the boy was his usual self, and after taking him out of the water and drying him thoroughly, his fish-like features returned to their human form again.
The royal couple sent out word to mages and sorceresses across the continent, promising to shower who managed to break the curse with gold. But no one succeeded, and whispers of the cursed prince spread, travelled far over the Rhine to the sea, the true tragedy lost to myths and in translation.
Castiel grew up to be a handsome man, one who wasn't allowed to bathe with others present, to take walks at the river, to dive into lakes in summers or skate in winter. He was a lonely boy becoming a lonely adult, hidden and sent away south so that the world might forget his existence.
But when he returned after year's in the mountains, Castiel sneaked out of the castle ever so often, walking through the woods for hours. His favourite was climbing a rocky hill that was rumoured to be cursed just like him. No one dared go up there, the climb too steep for the common man.
But after years away in the Alps, Castiel was an ardent rock climber with hawk's eyes and a tight grip even on the most difficult of mountains.
It was a warm summer day, a mackerel sky adorning the heavens, when Castiel once more sat on the steep slate rock and enjoyed the sun warming his face in solitude.
He watched the sunbeams play on the river waters below, the subjects of his father going over their daily business. Now and then, one pointed up at him, probably wondering if he was real or a figment of their imagination.
Castiel smiled. Up here on the hill, he was free, freer than in the walled garden or his chamber, where he took his meals, his parents too worried what might happen if a soup tureen were to be spilt on his lap while the whole court was watching.
Castiel's eyes fell on a man about his age, sitting at the river, not unlike himself, mending a fishing net, a soft melody on his lips that the wind carried up until the echo reached the prince's ear.
He loved the voice of the man and watched him intently—how he talked to the villagers, entertained the kids, and flirted with everybody who passed by. Castiel couldn't take his eyes off the man until he finished his work and went home.
Castiel mourned the loss of the sight. Something had shifted in the prince's heart, but he couldn't name what it was.
The very next day, Castiel climbed the slate rock again, ignoring the dark grey clouds piling up at the sky. All he wanted was to see the river beauty again, to hear his voice. And he was there, mending his fisher boat this time, a black, slick beauty of its own, well-cared for and surely beloved.
Everything about this man seemed to be born out of love—his generosity with smiles and time, the notes he sang about lost loves of olden times, sea shanties and more, the way his hands worked over the smooth wood of his boat.
Castiel felt a pull to him, foreign and powerful, but he knew he could never give in. Wandering off was one thing, getting close to the river and making contact with a fisherman another.
So he climbed down the rear side of the rock again, his heart heavy and yearning.
***
Dean had seen the man on the slate rock hovering far above him a few days ago. He didn't seem malicious, never showing the slightest inclination to come down and cross the waters.
He was good-looking, this much he could gather even from a distance. If he had sung, Dean would have thought him to be a siren, calling fellow boaters to their demise.
The waters below the rock were famous to swallow boats, large and small, never spitting out the seamen daring to pass it.
But Dean knew how to navigate the Rhine, where he could steer his boat safely and where not. He knew that the myths weren't true. Not here, at least.
Dean could feel the strange man's gaze heavily on him, but he didn't scare him off. The poor soul surely only needed some peace. Why else would he get up on the top of the rock that even his brother Sam thought too dangerous to climb?
No harm was done, so Dean just went on with his life. Until, one day, he heard a scream from the riverbank nearby, his good sister screaming her oldest's name, named after his uncle.
Dean leapt from his spot and ran to Eileen, following her gaze when she kept on screaming for her boy, floating in the wild waters around the rock. Without thinking, Dean ripped off his shirt and dove into the floods, ignoring his own past warnings to the children of their village, all his senses zoomed in on the form of his nephew hurled by the wild waters.
He swam against the waves, the river pressing him against sharp edges under water. He finally reached the lifeless child and pulled him into his arms before a current soaked them under the surface of the water.
He fought his way back up, again and again, but his strength was starved soon as he didn't let go of the child, his brother's pride and joy, his good sister's shining star.
He fought until his muscles gave out and finally surrendered to the waters, still holding his nephew close as they both drifted off to the bottom of the river.
It was befitting his life to die like this, taken by the waters, but his heart ached for the kid in his arms that had yet a life to live, to grow and see the world.
Dean's mind went under as the air in his lungs didn't keep him awake any longer, and the last thing he saw was the shadow of a fish-tailed person swimming in their direction.
'A mermaid,' Dean thought, strangely sad that he had never encountered one on his long travels. But these creatures lived by the coast, and Dean had never stayed long enough in one place to meet one in person. Such a loss.
***
Dean coughed and heaved up water, writhing on the gravel as he tried to make his lungs draw air. Starry spots filled his gaze. He blinked against them as he finally inhaled.
"Dean," he croaked as he scanned his surroundings. He found his nephew cradled in a stranger's arms. The man patted his back forcefully until a torrent of water left the boy's mouth. The kid gargled and spluttered immediately after, and Dean let himself fall back to the ground, too exhausted to keep his head up.
Little Dean was safe. That was all that mattered.
When he opened his eyes again, the calls of Sam and Eileen coming closer, his gaze fell on the stranger once again, who was still holding the child, cooing at him to calm him. He moved slightly to set the kid on the gravel and that's when Dean saw it—beautiful blue scales glittering in the sunshine, a strong fin fitting the climber torso of the man who had just saved them.
Eileen took her son from the merman's arms, pressing him close, her body shaking. "Thank you," she muttered.
Sam hugged them both, glancing at his brother who smiled at him happily before he returned his gaze back to the gorgeous stranger.
But what was that? Gone were the beautiful scales and the gills adorning his neck. The man was naked as the day he was born. Dean couldn't take his eyes off him, scanning his face, the stunning blue now only visible in tender eyes.
The man stood up, and only now, Dean realised it was the man from the rock, walking hastily to the river again, diving into the floods and once more, his beautiful fishtail glimmered in the sun before he disappeared fully.
Dean looked out at the river, hoping to catch a glance, but to no avail. The stranger was gone.
***
Like so many days before, Dean was sitting on the bank of the river, a sad song on his lips. It had been days since the beautiful stranger had rescued him and his nephew, and he still hadn't seen him again. His spot on the rock had stayed empty, no blue fin had stuck out of the water, or a soft smile graced Dean's eyes.
A song his mother once had sung to him as a child put into words the heaviness of his heart. And quietly, Dean started to sing.
I know not if there is a reason
Why I am so sad at heart.
A legend of bygone ages
Haunts me and will not depart.
The air is cool under nightfall.
The calm Rhine courses its way.
The peak of the mountain is sparkling
With evening's final ray.
Dean sighed from the bottom of his heart. What he would give to see his saviour once more, to say thanks and put into words the ache he had felt at his loss.
He looked up at the rock, still empty and void, just as the corner of Dean's heart that was like a gaping wound. Oh, if he were just like the woman in this song, beautiful enough to lure in the wondrous man.
The fairest of maidens is sitting
So marvelous up there,
Her golden jewels are shining,
She's combing her golden hair.
She combs with a comb also golden,
And sings a song as well
Whose melody binds a wondrous
And overpowering spell.
Dean sang into the near darkness, only the moon a witness to his sorrow. How could he lay eyes on someone just once, a mythical creature at that, and feel like his heart was lost? He didn't understand.
The song died on his tongue and only the sounds of the river surrounded him, the purling of the Rhine carrying away the memories of a love not meant to be.
In his little boat, the boatman
Is seized with a savage woe,
He'd rather look up at the mountain
Than down at the rocks below.
I think that the waves will devour
The boatman and boat as one;
And this by her song's sheer power
Fair Lorelei has done.
Dean's eyes grew wide as a warm voice finished the song where he had left off. He couldn't make out the source, and he crawled closer to the river, soft grass under his knees and hands.
It had to be a siren's song, though their like never ventured so far into the mainland. Dean was beyond caring, his heart alone heavy enough to pull him to the bottom of the river.
When he reached the wet edge, ready to be pulled under by a water spirit, he made out a silhouette in the darkness, and blue eyes shining silver in the moonlight looked at him.
"Who are you?" Dean whispered.
"Castiel," the merman replied. "Are you alright?"
"I missed you," Dean said, biting his tongue but the words were already out.
"I missed you, too," Castiel whispered and tilted his head, the moon now dipping his face in soft light.
"Where have you been? I searched for you."
"The villagers up North searched for a river monster," Castiel explained. "My parents ordered me to hide."
Dean breathed a sigh. "I'm sorry. News travels fast and far."
"I know. I just needed to make sure that you and the lad were fine. Farewell," Castiel said. He turned away from the edge, but Dean grabbed his hand.
"Come on land. Let me thank you properly," he pleaded.
Castiel looked unsure.
"I brought a blanket to cover you up when you turn," Dean said, and warmth spread in Castiel's chest, the yearning he had endured since parting ways with the handsome fisherman exploding a thousandfold.
"First, tell me your name," Castiel asked. The answer was honey on his tongue, a sweet name befitting a beauty like Dean.
Castiel came on land, and it didn't take long until he could feel his legs again under the provided blanket.
Dean spread out a picnic he had quickly fetched from his home.
"I wasn't sure if you eat fish or if that's cannibalistic," Dean apologised, thankful that the blush creeping into his cheeks was hidden in the moonlight.
"I'm not a fish, Dean," Castiel chuckled, the sound of it wrapping warmly around Dean's heart.
"Good. As I'm but a poor fisherman and don't have much more to offer."
"I'd gladly eat fish for the rest of my days," Castiel whispered as if it were a secret.
"I'd gladly catch it for you," Dean spoke. "If you'd let me."
Castiel smiled at him and gathered the blanket closer. Dean cupped his face and pulled him into a kiss that Castiel could feel from the tip of his nose to his curling toes.
'Maybe,' he thought, 'it's a true love's kiss lifting the curse.'
They kissed for a long while, their hearts finally full and united, their hearts beating in unison as if they always were meant to be.
"I need to go home," Castiel finally said.
"Will you return?" Dean asked, holding tightly onto his shoulders.
"Yes, my love. If you want me to."
"I want you to return and then, to share our lives."
Castiel smiled at him.
"Tomorrow, then," he said and dipped his feet into the water. Much to his disappointment, they turned into a fish's tail again.
"Are you sure you want to be with someone like me?" he asked Dean.
"I'd rather have you. Cursed or not," Dean said, his green eyes shining in the moonlight.
He pressed a kiss to Castiel's lips. "Tomorrow, sweetheart?"
"Tomorrow, beloved."
And they all lived happily ever after.