Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was a well-known fact in the Kingdom of Lebanon that King Henry cherished and dotted on his two grandsons, Prince Dean and Prince Sam, above everything else in the world, and it had been for this reason that he had made it a habit of sharing his breakfast with them, ever since their early childhood. The King had seen it as the best way to begin his days.

And since it was his preferred time to receive an overview of the day to come, as well as go through the latest major updates, he also saw it as a good training ground for the boys. Which they both loved as it had made their inquisitive minds feel grown-up and included.

Now both into their twenties, well past the age of impressionable years, the princes could attest that the novelty of those morning briefings had eventually wore off, thus causing their attention span to weaken from time to time.

That was especially the case for Dean.

It was not in his favor that, on the particular morning where this story begins, everything had seemed to be evolving around the preparations for the upcoming Hunter’s Moon Festival.

An event intensively discussed over the past few weeks. 

Curiously, the festival had been an event that Dean had been extremely looking forward to, given that the event hadn't been celebrated since his childhood. But the high commitments and work the festival necessitated became tiresome with each day.

His only silver lining now was that his friend, Prince Castiel of Caelum, had promised to attend the event, despite having been caught on a long series of travels on behalf of his brother, King Michael.

So, it wasn’t surprising that his daydreaming was interrupted once Donatello, going over the latest updates, shared the unexpected news that Prince Castiel was to arrive earlier than planned.

“When are we to expect him?” asked the King.

“In the late afternoon.”

A bright smile instantly grew on Dean’s face.

“Very well. Have his old room ready for him. After his long travels, I think some familiarity will do him good.”

“Yes, your majesty. And as we previously discussed, we are still taking into consideration that Prince Castiel’s betrothed will be present at the celebration.”

King Henry nodded in acknowledgment. Seemingly unfazed by this statement.

But the same couldn’t be said for Dean.

A clatter was heard. Dean’s beverage had slipped from his hand and poured all over his breakfast plate.

And before he could stop himself, he blurted out, perhaps a little too loudly for morning conversations, “His what?”

Disturbed and confused, Dean turned to his brother, seated across the table for clarification, but he, too, looked perplexed by this information.

Perhaps not as much as Dean, but surprised nonetheless.

Not even noticing the maidservant clearing the mess in front of him, Dean returned his focus to his grandfather for immediate answers.

“This isn’t true, is it?”

“Wouldn’t you prefer letting your friend tell you himself?”

Dean’s facial expression clearly indicated that, at this very moment, he did not, in fact, wish to opt for that course of action.

“Thank you, Donatello,” said King Henry, kindly dismissing him, as he felt Dean’s panic state rising with haste.

The man wasted no time to make himself scarce.

And after a moment of hesitation, King Henry put down his spoon, indicating this was a serious matter, and said, “A few weeks ago, I received information that Prince Castiel was engaged to the daughter of a duke from the kingdom of Inferno.”

“Hold on, a few weeks ago? How come this is the first I’m hearing of this? Why didn’t you tell me—us—then?”

“Honestly? Since Prince Castiel is your most trusted friend, I assumed he had already told you, and that your silence on the matter was simply due to…you processing the news. Now that I know that isn’t what happened,” continued his grandfather, adopting a gentler tone, “I can’t help but think it was because he wanted to tell you in person at the upcoming celebration. Which means that I’ve most likely spoiled his good news for him.”

As Dean was about to forget his manners and display a complete lack of decorum in response to his grandfather’s last comment, it was lucky for him that their breakfast was interrupted.

An important issue required the King’s attention, of course, which meant the end of his breakfast, as well their conversation.

For now.

It took about two seconds once Dean and Sam were left on their own, before Dean said, “This is disastrous! What are we going to do about Cas? We can’t let this happen, can we? And a duke’s daughter from Inferno? How can this be? Can’t Grandfather do something?”

Sam’s eyes widened at the thought. “That…would be ill-advised.”

“Why? I mean, if there’s anyone who could—”

“Dean, no,” warned Sam. “Think for a moment. You just said it yourself. This is a match uniting both kingdoms of Caelum and Inferno. Not Lebanon.”

“But it’s Cas,” hissed Dean. “He’s…he’s practically family! Lebanon is as much his home as Caelum is. He grew up here. With us.”

“I know that, Dean. I’m not disputing that at all. I would never see it any other way. But think how this would look if Grandfather, the King of Lebanon, tried to intervene in this union. Why would he meddle in affairs outside of his own kingdom? And more importantly, why should he? I admit I’m a bit taken aback by the news, but we don’t know all the facts yet. Maybe there is more to the story than this. So, before you panic—”

“I’m not panicking! I’m—”

“—how about you start by waiting for Cas to get here? He’ll arrive soon enough, and you’ll know more about the situation then. In the meantime, I would caution you to sort out whatever feelings you may have towards…this situation.”

Dean frowned at him.

“What do you mean? I know perfectly well how I feel about all this. It’s absurd, that’s what it is!”

An odd expression formed itself on Sam’s face. His eyes were studying him intensely, but not out of worry. Or puzzlement. Something else.

If Dean didn’t know any better, he would have said that Sam seemed amused.

Which nearly made Dean question his sanity in that very moment.

“Why do you think it’s absurd?” Sam asked him. “In fact, I’d like to know exactly what is absurd about this situation to you? Is it the engagement in itself? The person he’s to be married to? Is it the fact that you didn’t know and feel excluded somehow? Even hurt, perhaps? Or is it because you—Is it something else?”

Silence.

"What I mean is why does it bother you so much that Cas is engaged?”

That was a lot of questions and turmoil for a morning discussion.

“I don’t know, Sam. All of the above? I don’t understand why he wouldn’t have breathed a word about it. Not one word in his very detailed correspondence. Nothing. And now this? And I—I just…something doesn’t sit right with me about all this.”

“Hence why I suggested you reflect on this issue. Preferably before Cas arrives. Otherwise, your emotions might fog your judgement, and put you in a position you might regret.”

Given the busy day ahead of him, Dean wasn’t convinced that was something he could accomplish very well. Not to mention that rumination, the emotional kind, was not exactly his cup of tea.

That was more Sam’s style than his.

As though he had read his mind, his brother decided to take pity on him, and said, “I can’t do much about your lessons with Bobby and Rufus, nor the Men of Letters council meeting we have to attend this afternoon,” to which Dean let out a grunt of frustration, as he had forgotten that was on the schedule of the day, “but I’ll take care of everything else, including anything regarding the festival, in your stead to allow you some extra time.”

“Really?” said Dean, with a grain of hope. “You would do that?”

“If you promise to use this time to clear your head and think about this.”

“I will. Thank you. I—thanks.”

He wasn’t sure how successful he would be, considering he wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to accomplish.

Find out the truth? Which truth? Or was it to accept the unacceptable?

The one thing he knew for sure, however, was where he could start.

When the first opportunity presented itself, Dean ran to his bed chambers and perused Castiel’s most recent letters that he had stashed in his desk drawer, desperate for answers.

Alas, the letters offered no additional insights. It was as Dean had remembered them.

Castiel had simply stated his typical descriptions of his day. Small anecdotes. Of people he had met. Books he had read. Things he had learned. And so on.

And he finished every letter wishing Dean well, with a reminder that he was, as always, eager to return to Lebanon.

No mention of an engagement. Or even potential courtship.

Not one single mention of this mysterious daughter of a duke, either.

Frustrated, Dean decided to take a look at some of his older letters, starting with the ones nearing Castiel’s visit to Inferno. Much like his recent ones, nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first. Same descriptions. Same type of anecdotes. Same familiarity.

Until one letter finally caught his eye.

For an entirely different reason, however. 

Dearest Dean,

Is my imagination playing tricks on me, or did I detect a touch of annoyance regarding the preparations for the festival in your last letter?

If it is any consolation, to say that I am greatly looking forward to the celebration is quite the understatement. Like you, listening to the countless stories about the festival growing up, I always longed to experience it myself. People always managed to make it sound so magical, filled with excitement, in such an effortless way, that it nearly gives me tingles just at the thought of it. I dreamed of it. Still do. Imagining you dancing with your signature grin at the event has become a daily thought now. And I cannot wait to see it all with my own eyes.

The work left to be done to make your vision a reality might seem heavier (and perhaps less stimulating) than you had expected, but given your tenacity, I don’t doubt for one moment that you will succeed in this task, and that it will be worth it in the end.

I know what this event means to you. I know what it means to your family.

Please don’t despair. I know it will be wonderful. 

On my end, there isn’t much to report. My sister keeps telling me I read too much and ought to take advantage of the warm summer sun while I can. So I made a point of going to the garden every morning since then, to enjoy said summer sun, and I did so while reading.

I haven’t seen much change in my well-being, but only time will tell, I guess.

I hope you are well. I am counting the days until my return to you. I know it hasn’t been that long since we have seen one another, but if I may be bold, at times, I feel more at home in Lebanon than Caelum. I think the people have probably more to do with it than the location itself. I miss you. I miss all of you. Since my departure for Inferno is approaching, I’m hoping I can spare a few days and stop for a short visit beforehand, but I’m not certain I will be able to. I will do my best though, believe me. 

I am not dreading the voyage. I am extremely intrigued, as I’ve told you, and feel grateful every time my brother requests my aid. But I wouldn’t mind taking the scenic route to get there.

In the meantime, try not to worry too much about the work ahead. Remember, it’s supposed to be a celebration! Think of the delicacies you'll be able to taste. All those hours practicing your waltz will finally be of use. 

I hope my letter found you well. And I wish to see you very soon.

Castiel

While the letter still offered no explanation about the ordeal in question, as he was studying Castiel’s words, Dean couldn’t help but feel differently than when he had first read it months ago.

Perhaps it was because Dean had been distracted at the time.

Perhaps it was because he was now reading it with hindsight.

Or perhaps Dean was overthinking, making him see things that weren’t there.

But to him, in that moment, perched on his desk, rereading the same words over and over, the letter had such a tone of sentimentality he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before. Castiel sounded so happy. Lighthearted even. He could feel the excitement and comfort radiating from his words.

Making Dean feel appreciated. And special.

And it made him long for his presence more than ever. He knew he missed him. He always did whenever he left the castle, but this felt like something else.

Was this part of his issue? Was Dean upset about the engagement because he feared it would be yet another obstacle to their already limited interactions?

Or was it something even deeper than that?

Dean wished for the time when they were young children, begging for fairy tale stories, wishful for a hopeful future.

Being lucky enough to be Princes, according to the tales, they had to have their happy ending.

And at that moment, when he reflected on how Castiel had been brought to the castle in the first place, Dean couldn’t help but feel like it sounded almost like those bedtime stories.

After Dean’s parents had passed away, which had been linked to the Hunter’s Moon Festival, a lot of changes had spread over the kingdom of Lebanon. King Henry had become overzealous regarding his grandsons’ safety, and for that reason, the festival, like many other celebrations, had no longer been held for many years.

Visitors at the castle had been a rarity.

But when King Michael of Caelum, who had been dealing with a damaging war at the time, had reached out to King Henry, requesting refuge for his youngest brother, Prince Castiel, Dean’s grandfather had obliged.

Dean had questioned his grandfather about it once, intrigued why he had made such an exception.

“I couldn’t have seen myself refusing a request that I would have pleaded for had the situation been reversed.”

Castiel had been the only visitor allowed as a guest for a very long time. He had been the only friend Dean had ever had in his early childhood.

And now that he thought about it, given how secluded the castle had been all those years, Dean couldn’t imagine how boring—and quite frankly, empty—his life would have been had Castiel not been sent to live with them.

A lump formed itself in his throat at the realization.

Reminded of the time, he cleared his throat as he caught himself partially daydreaming. He put the clutter away in haste, and left his room to return to his duties.

He had made sure, however, to keep that particular letter on him.

In hope of answers, as much as the warm comfort it provided.

Needless to say, Dean’s lack of focus only got worse as the day went by. He did the best he could to appear alert and tried to reserve most of his energy for the council.

The meeting had been long and demanding, and the moment it was over, without any ceremony, he pressingly took refuge in the library.

Quietly seated at a desk, he was overseeing material that Bobby had left for him to review for the day, half working on the task at hand, half trapped in his worries.

At least, he was relieved to be left alone with his thoughts.

Which was probably why he didn’t notice, some time later, when someone made their entrance into the room.

“Seeing you immersed in your task, I have to say, that is quite the interesting picture you are giving me right now.”

Startled, Dean looked up from his desk and noticed Castiel standing not far from the fireplace, appearing at ease and amused, as though he had been watching him for some time now.

He was dressed sharply, with the classic monochromatic color theme of Caelum, and fine blue embroidery on his collar that accentuated his piercing eyes.

And quite unexpectedly, Dean’s heart skipped a beat.

“Cas! You—you’re here!”

Dean straightened his posture and quickly cleared up his desk by gathering all the papers scattered in front of him into one big pile, before leaving his seat to greet his friend.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long, I assure you. It’s good to see you, Dean,” he said, as he wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. Which, for some reason, brought both comfort and jitters to Dean.

Given Castiel’s deadpan expression once he let go of him, it seemed that the same could not be said about him.

“I apologize for the short notice of my arrival. I hope I wasn’t an added burden. I know how immensely busy you all must be.”

“Nonsense. I’m happy you’re here, Cas. You know that.” Dean gestured for him to take a seat in one of the large leather armchairs. “Are you hungry? Dinner won’t be until hours from now, but I can make sure you get something right away if you need sustenance.”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you. I’m not famished at the moment.”

Nodding, Dean repositioned in his seat, desperate to remain calm. With Castiel in front of him, he could finally get the clarification he was so craving.

The problem was that he wasn’t sure how to inquire about the matter without sounding like he was attacking him. Or even accusing him of wrongdoing.

Even though he had kept his promise and done what Sam had suggested, mulling things over hadn’t given Dean clarity or peace of mind. It had only solidified his fears and increased his confusion instead.

And this was why, in order to put an end to his discomfort, as he felt his chest fill with panic and his throat tightening, he heard himself say, “Are you really engaged?”

Evidently, subtlety was a skill that Dean still needed to improve on.

“Well, I—I was hoping to have a bit more time before getting to this discussion,” said Castiel, nearly amused. “Here I was, for most of my journey, wondering how I should broach the subject with you and you’ve just beaten me to the punch.”

“So it’s true?”

“Yes. I’ve met someone during my stay in Inferno, and I’ve proposed.”

In other words, the very thing Dean didn’t want to hear.

Having momentarily lost the ability to speak, he simply stared at his friend.

Waiting for him to recount the rest of his tale, which had to be that the engagement had fallen through.

That his would-be betrothed rejected him.

That Castiel realized it was folly, came to his senses, and retracted his proposal.

Or better yet, for Castiel to burst into laughter because this was just a very bad joke at Dean’s expense.

Sadly, that was not what happened.

“Her name is Meg,” said Castiel, with far more excitement for Dean’s liking. “She was very amicable during my stay. She has an interesting spirit to her, and is as resourceful as she is beautiful.”

And with that statement, Dean immediately made the unfair conclusion that Meg was the most horrid name to have ever reached his ears.

“Her father, Azazel,” continued Castiel, unaware of his friend’s pettiness, “was once King Lucifer’s most favoured general, and is now a duke. Which is rather impressive.”

Dean was not impressed.

And he was no longer interested in what Castiel had to say, and chose to convey that fact by continuing to be quiet and crossing his arms over his chest.

Not at all like a child would have done.

And tried his best to tune out.

It was a pity that his silence turned out to be misunderstood by his friend as a request for additional information, and Castiel, being the kind and generous friend that he was, obliged in doing so.

“No date has been set for the wedding yet. But after the festival, it will be made official, and I suspect it will be a matter of weeks.”

And just like that, Dean’s focus had returned.

“Wait, you mean it’s not set in stone yet?”

“Officially? No. But—”

“That’s good,” said Dean, more to himself than to his friend. “It means there’s more time.”

“More time? More time for what?”

Realizing his poor behaviour, Dean shut his mouth and thought fast for an answer. “I mean…why in such a hurry? Weeks? Why? Why not wait?”

While Castiel’s facial expression remained unreadable as ever, the tension in his shoulders dissipated and his eyes softened. Almost as though they had finally got to the part of the conversation he had been aiming for.

“Before I left for Inferno near the end of summer, my brother and I had a serious conversation.” Castiel left his seat and positioned himself in front of the tainted window, his back to Dean. “I won’t bore you with the specifics, but in the end, one thing was very clear: as the King’s brother, I have certain responsibilities to uphold, one of them being marriage, and delaying the inevitable wouldn’t be in my favour.”

He faced Dean once more.

“At first, I thought...I—I’m sure you know where I’m going with this. Azazel is among the most influential people in Inferno showing support for the alliance between Inferno and Caelum, which is…crucial in these trying times. As my brother constantly reminds me. Hence the time constraint being implemented here.”

With this in mind, Dean was first hit by a massive wave of relief, only to turn immediately crestfallen at the realization of what was really at play here.

“So all this, it’s just because of your brother. Not because—do you even love her?”

“While I appreciate Meg’s company greatly, I admit that it might be hasty to refer to my feelings for her as love,” he said, after a short pause. “I honestly believe, however, that my affection for her will grow into something more with time.”

Hearing Castiel being so cavaliere about his own future was extremely frustrating to Dean, because he believed his friend deserved so much more than that.

Hearing Castiel speak positively about this match, on the other hand, rendered Dean down right sick to his stomach. Not because he believed Castiel was convincing himself that the situation wasn’t as dire as it seemed, but rather because he had, in fact, expressed genuine feelings, platonic or not, for she-who-must-not-be-named.

And that, as he had so vocally expressed himself to Sam earlier that day, bothered Dean a great deal.

“Am I to understand you don’t approve?” Castiel asked him.

“I didn’t say that. I—why do you think that?”

“Not that I’m begging for it, but I have noticed that you haven’t congratulated me yet. Nor have you formulated an actual opinion on the matter. Which isn’t really your style.”

“I’m just processing. And frankly, I’m confused about one thing.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me before. None of it. You were there for months. You wrote to me nearly every other day, and yet, not a peep out of you regarding this life altering decision. I know it’s silly, but that…I don’t get why you kept it to yourself.”

“I—I regret not mentioning it to you earlier, Dean. I should have. Please, don’t see this as ill-intent. I wasn’t sure if anything would come of it at first, so I kept my lips sealed on the subject, and then the next thing I knew, everything was…settled.”

“Settled,” muttered Dean, aggravated. He shifted in his seat, and as he did so, he felt something in his pocket.

Castiel’s letter.

And then, once again, before he could stop himself, he asked him, “Is that the only reason why you didn’t tell me?”

“What do you mean?”

In all honesty, Dean hadn’t got a clue himself. What had he meant?

But when he noticed worry in Castiel’s eyes, even for the briefest of moments, he gathered that he had hit a nerve there. Without meaning to, he had exposed another layer to this situation.

And the more they held their stare, the clearer an answer was formulating itself in Dean’s mind.

Of what he desired Castiel would tell him.

Of why he had been saddened, confused, and bothered by this announcement since the very first time he had heard of it.

So, ignoring Castiel’s question, he repeated his own. “Is there another reason why you delayed telling me?”

And Castiel looked down.

Confirming Dean’s hunch.

“Cas?”

“Of course not,” he said, forcing a smile on his face. And before Dean could reply, he said quickly, “Dean, I don’t wish to seem ungrateful for your hospitality, but the journey was long, and it’s now catching up to me. I think I ought to retire for some time, if that’s all right.”

Though disappointed about pausing their conversation, as he felt they had finally hit the central point of their ordeal, Dean didn’t have the heart to refuse him this request.

He assured him that he understood and let him off the hook for now, with the firm intention of continuing their discussion later on.

Right where they had left off.

To Dean’s great dismay, however, Castiel did not make an appearance at dinner. He sent a renewed apology, stating that he was still recovering from his travels, and that it was best for him to retire for the evening entirely.

As he attempted to not take it personally, or in direct correlation to how poorly their earlier conversation had ended, Dean found himself reliving their interaction on a loop, up until the late hours of the night.

The temptation of leaving his private quarters and checking on Castiel had definitely been high. After all, they used to visit each other’s rooms all the time growing up.

Of course, that practice had somewhat diminished as they got older, mainly because they didn’t require permission to wander off into the castle at night, should they have that fancy. Once that happened, the hidden passageway leading to their rooms had lost some of its magical element, Dean had thought.   

In any case, despite toying with the idea to revisit his old nocturnal habits, he opted to remain in his room. Which did very little to help the situation.

Seated at his desk, going through the letters once again, dangerously nearing folly as his obsession deepened, Dean let out a sigh as he poured himself a cup of rich red wine.

He wanted to be rid of this pit in his stomach. Of this dark cloud which had followed him all day. And given the situation at hand, it didn’t seem promising.

Then, for the second time that day, a startled Dean lost his grip on his cup, causing him to make a mess, when he heard someone say, “Hello, Dean.”

Ignoring the wine pouring down his desk, staining most of the parchment paper he was studying a moment ago, Dean jumped from his seat.

“I’m sorry for startling you. I—but I think we ought to talk. I didn’t like the way our conversation ended. And I know I’m to blame for that.”

“Don’t say that. No blame to be had. On either account. And I’m glad you’re here.”

Castiel, as though it had just then occurred to him where he was standing, as well as the late hour, took note of Dean’s bright purple nightgown. He was still fully dressed, just as he had been that afternoon. He stepped back towards the tapestry, where he had come from.

“I should have knocked. On your door. The other door.”

“Cas, no, I told you it’s fine. Please, sit.”

Castiel came to a halt. But he remained near the hidden door.

“I agree, we should talk.” Dean left his desk and walked to his divan near the window, hoping it would make Castiel more at ease. “I actually wanted to tell you something myself.”

After a final hesitation on Castiel’s part, he finally left his spot and joined Dean.

Right next to him.

“About what?”

“Well, I was thinking. And, um, I—I just…I know I haven’t been really enthusiastic about the engagement, and it’s not because I’m against it per se. I’ve spent a lot of time mulling it over today—too much time perhaps—and I think it’s mostly in regard to how this came to be. Cas, I—I just don’t like the idea of you getting married solely because your brother told you to. And I know,” he said urgently, “I know he’s the King. Your King. And I understand the situation, and I salute what you’re trying to accomplish here. But Cas,” he said, letting out a deep sigh, “you can’t—I cannot sit here and simply let you do this when I know that’s not really what you want.”

“I’ve agreed to the arrangement, Dean. I’m perfectly content with it.”

“Stop saying that, I know that’s a lie.”

He hadn’t shouted, but his voice had broken near the end of his sentence.

“All right then, I’ll play along,” said Castiel. “Since you seem to know more about my own happiness, care to tell me what it is I want?”

And at last, a smile appeared on Dean’s lips.

“Do you remember all the bedtime stories we were told growing up?”

Lifting an eyebrow, Castiel nodded, despite being confused at Dean’s sudden change of topic. But he didn’t comment on it and let him continue.

“I don’t know if it’s because of the frenzy involving the festival, or this situation, or the fact that I’ve been poring over your letters all day, desperate for a clue that would make sense of all this—”

“Dean, I—I’m sorry to have caused you—”

“No, it’s fine. It’s all right, Cas. In a curious way, I’m glad this happened. It allowed me to see things more clearly. It took some time and a lot of frustration, don’t get me wrong, but that’s, um, that’s beside the point.” He cleared his throat, as he commanded himself to not digress. “What I mean to say is that I walked down memory lane today. And I couldn’t help but think of all those fairy tales we were told. About the princes and princesses. About the knights and dragons.” He paused, thinking it through. “I know they were just stories, but however embarrassing that may be, part of me always believed in them. In the stories. They made me believe that being a prince meant that a happy ending was more than simply on the table. It was guaranteed. And I guess what I’m trying to say, incredibly poorly, is that if you do this, I don’t think you’ll have the happy ending I believe you’re entitled to.”

Letting his words sink in, Dean took a deep breath, and slid himself closer to Castiel.

And knowing there was no turning back after this, he slowly reached for his hand, and whispered, “And I don’t see how I can have a happy ending either, if that happens. How can I have one without you in it?” 

Now, Castiel remained perfectly silent. Just as he had a moment ago, he stared at Dean straight in the eye.

But his hand gave Dean a gentle squeeze.

So Dean continued speaking.

“Cas, I’m aware that telling you this now is unfair. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. And I realize how complicated the situation has turned, but please…don’t do this thinking you have no other option. Or because you think that’s what you ought to do on somebody else’s basis.”

Still holding on to his hand, he slid himself even closer to him. Feeling his heart beating his his throat, Dean swallowed hard. 

“Cas? Can you—please say something.”

A long minute passed before Castiel, repositioning himself on his seat so he could face Dean better,  finally regained his voice. “You were right earlier. When you said there might be another reason why I hadn't told you about the engagement. Do you remember how eager I was to come here before going to Inferno?”

Having revisited most of their correspondence on that same day, having—in fact—held on to that specific letter throughout the day, Dean nodded.

“Of course, I’m always up for a visit. You know that. But this time was different. It wasn’t just because I missed you terribly. There was a reason why I wanted to see you immediately. It's because I—I wanted to tell you how much I love you." He paused, gathering his strength. “I—I wanted to ask you a question. The question."

It was Dean's turn now to watch him intensively. With excitement.

“As you now know,” he continued, “due to time constraints, I never got to do so. And then, Michael and I had this talk about responsibilities and how finding a spouse in Inferno was a sudden high priority... I honestly don’t know if he suspected what I was planning or it was just bad timing. But he’s my brother and the King, Dean. How could I not take his input into consideration? So I went there…praying nothing would come of it. That’s why, Dean. That’s why I never told you. Because I was still hoping we could make it work somehow. But now? Dean, how can we fix this? I gave my word.”

“You aren’t married yet and nothing is truly official. You said it yourself. I understand the situation is not ideal, and we'll have to use some diplomacy, but I believe it's possible. And as for your brother, I wouldn't worry too much. I believe he'll come around in the end."

"How?"

"Because he sent you to us all these years ago. He sent you here, with me, to protect you. He cares for your well-being. If you express your true feelings regarding what he asks of you, I believe he will support your decision. And Cas, if I'm wrong, quite honestly,” he said, unable to contain his smile, “now that I know you feel the same, now that I know what you were hoping for, planning on asking me, I’d like to see anyone try and keep you away from me.”

And with these words, Castiel wrapped himself around him, and eagerly pressed his lips against his.

And finally shared the tender kiss, they had both been dreaming of for so long.

While dissolving the previous unofficial engagement had not been without its dose of worry, in the end, it worked out for the best. Meg, Castiel’s former betrothed, had apparently been relieved of the outcome, stating that despite her duties, married life was not what she had been looking for at that precise moment.

Quite surprisingly, Azazel, even with the incident, still remained supportive of the alliance between Caelum and Inferno, more so due to Castiel’s honesty regarding the match.

Also, wishing to continue to solidify these alliances, and help smooth over the recent events, Dean had made sure to issue an invitation for every citizen of Inferno as their guests of honor for the upcoming festival. A greatly appreciated gesture, for they had never had attended the event, even back when the festival had been annually celebrated.

And King Michael, just as Dean had hoped, had issued no objection once Castiel had made it clear what—and whom—he truly desired in life. 

On the opening day of the festival, no engagement had been announced, which had been a pity for everyone present who had been hoping for one.

Everybody’s patience, however, was rewarded in the following year, when the festival doubled as a wedding.

And yes, both princes were radiating with joy.

And they did, indeed, live happily ever after.

Just like in their bedtime stories.

THE END