Chapter Text
Cold. Freezing, almost. Yet, that was exactly what made Castiel feel alive in that moment. That frigid feeling crawling its way up his body and enveloping him as he sank into the water. He shivered but he had no complaint. He was cleansed. That was a blessing. He was blessed to experience the cold. To bathe in that water and let it wash away everything dirty in his soul.
The next morning, Castiel would kneel before the queen. It was something Castiel had been working towards his entire life. See, it was all planned out for him from the moment he was born. As is tradition, it was already set in stone that the eldest son of the Novaks would inherit the land and wealth that came along with being born into a noble line. Therefore, when you are the younger son of such an important familial line like one of the Novaks, there are high expectations that you will carry on the name with honor.
Naturally, the Novaks determined a few generations ago that this honor would be achieved by their younger sons attaining knighthood. Therefore, by the age of nine, Castiel started his pagehood under a knight from another noble lineage that was quite close with the Novaks. Some would even say too close… The townsfolk speculated that the relationship was more than friendly between Lady Novak and the head of the other household as they were seen together frequently for many years and even that the relationship resulted in a bastard child. Neither household took these rumors seriously. It was considered as nothing more than idle chatter among the poor.
That gossip followed Castiel around quite a bit while he worked for his title, however. It was common for the others he trained with to tease Castiel about being the supposed bastard child but none could deny that Castiel had great potential as a knight. He was quick on his feet and even quicker in wit and that made him a skilled fighter but most important of all was the fact that Castiel was a genuine person.
Many falsely believed that bravery and skill were what made a knight great but what truly set apart just any good fighter and a knight was kindness. Castiel was kind to a fault. Even as just a squire, Castiel was dedicated to protecting those who could not protect themselves, no matter the danger it brought to himself. Therefore, two nights ago when the small village bakery was being robbed, it was no surprise when Castiel stepped in to put a stop to the bandit on his own. He was told, then, that he was ready.
Now, just twenty-one years of age, Castiel was in the church, down on his knees before the altar with his head bowed and hands clasped together after being washed of sin. He’d spend the night like this as the beginning of the ceremony. A ritual to prove he was devoted to God. This was expected of him, of course, but Castiel did not find his devotion to be an obligation like many others did. To him, it was a blessing to show his gratitude to his Heavenly Father for not only his life but the plan that God had created that would contain great things for him as long as he did not stray from his faith in the path laid out for him, even when the future was unclear.
By the morning, his hips and knees were sore and there was a dull ache in his neck. Finally rising to his feet was like opening a rusted hinge for the first time in months as if the night had aged him by another two decades. He was so exhausted while he and his family sat for Mass among many other lords and ladies that it all went by in a blur. The next thing he knew, he was in the carriage on the way to the castle.
It was common for the family to split up into separate carriages. Castiel always rode with his mother while his father and brother rode in another. That was usually two carriages. Today, there were three.
“Castiel,” Lady Novak spoke softly.
He blinked at her slowly. “Hm?”
Lady Novak smiled a little at his tired response. “Your father and I are very proud of you.”
“Did he tell you to say that?” Castiel muttered, turning his head despite the small protest from his neck to look out of the tiny carriage door window. Castiel found himself a little irritable in his exhaustion. He hoped that wouldn’t express itself in front of the queen. “Father isn’t even coming. You know the kind of impression it leaves on people when a man of his stature isn’t attending a ceremony for his own son.”
“I assure you he is proud–” Lady Novak started but she was quickly interrupted.
“There is nothing for him to be proud of,” Castiel said, “this is what he expects of me. I’m achieving the bare minimum.”
Lady Novak was silent for a few seconds. She sighed reluctantly, looking down at the hands that were folded neatly and rested properly in her lap. “I am proud of you.”
Castiel’s gaze slowly drifted to look at his mother out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t miss the reluctance in her voice aimed at admitting that his father was not proud, but he was still grateful that she was. “Thank you…” He frowned a little when she didn’t immediately look up. Castiel turned his head back towards her, sitting up straight in the carriage seat. “I love you.”
That got her. She picked her head up quickly, a bright smile spreading across her face that put her dimples on full display. “I love you, too. More than anything, my son.”
Lady Novak gently pinched Castiel’s nose, which crinkled in response while he gave a half-hearted smile that drifted away rather quickly.
“Look alive, Castiel,” she said, watching as Castiel’s face wore the weariness of the rest of his body, “your eyes are so dull from the night. We can’t have you barely conscious during your accolade.”
Castiel opened his eyes as wide as he could, giving his mother a piercing blue-eyed stare. “Do I look alive now?”
“Be serious, Castiel,” Lady Novak reached across to lightly smack her son’s knee, grinning with amusement despite herself, “this is serious.”
“I know, Mom,” Castiel said, smiling back at her playfully, “I won’t be passing out at the queen’s feet if that is what you are worried about.”
“You better not be.”
The carriage came to a stop and with a light tap at the door, Castiel stepped out of the carriage and onto the castle grounds. He politely extended a hand for his mother, which was gently slapped away as she insisted she could get out just fine on her own in her big dress and heels.
Two hands suddenly grab Castiel by the shoulders. In two smooth motions, Castiel had the perpetrator by the wrists in one hand, turned around to face them.
“Woah,” Gabriel smiled at Castiel, “someone’s on edge.”
“You snuck up on me,” Castiel murmured, letting Gabriel’s wrists go.
“Gabriel, don’t harass your brother,” Lady Novak chided.
Gabriel just rolled his eyes, gently rubbing his wrists. “Big day,” he commented, nudging Castiel with his elbow, “is it getting to you, yet?”
“Gabriel,” Lady Novak crossed her arms.
“What?” Gabriel raised his hands to his shoulders, palms out in feigned innocence. “I’m just asking a question.”
“Ask questions while you move your feet,” she said, turning to walk, “we don’t have time to stand around and chat.”
Castiel and Gabriel quickly fall into step with their mother. The older of the two flashed a big smile in the other’s direction. The younger sighed.
“It got to me a few hours ago,” Castiel answered reluctantly.
“Oh, yeah?” Gabriel continued to grin. “While you were doing the whole prayer ritual thing?”
“Prayer ritual thing,” Castiel repeated under his breath with a roll of his eyes, “yes.”
“What were you praying about?”
Death.
Not that he was praying for it. It wasn’t that simple. Though, he highly doubted Gabriel of all people would understand that. Gabriel didn’t understand anything about Castiel. He was privileged not to. He wouldn’t have to work at all for the wealth that would be handed right to him the moment that currently absent piece of… the moment their father passed on. God forbid such a thing happened any time soon.
He was just merely wondering about it. Prayer was sort of like a one-sided conversation with God to Castiel. One can imagine there wasn’t a lot to pray about for the entirety of a night so when his mind started to wander, Castiel would start to talk to God a little aimlessly about the things he was thinking about. It had been happening a lot lately. The death topic, that is. He found himself often pondering God's reasoning behind it. He wasn’t searching for an answer when he asked. He didn’t expect one. It was such a curious thing, though, wasn’t it?
It was at the back of everyone’s mind all the time, even if they weren’t consciously thinking that much about it. That one day, this would be over. He wasn’t one to believe that there was nothing after this. Yet, he wondered why this had to end in order for his life to continue eternally elsewhere. He supposed he’d find out when it happened and he told himself he was content with that.
“…Am I supposed to tell you that?”
Gabriel chuckled a little. “It’s not a wish, Cas.”
That cursed nickname triggered that already irritable mind. “Don’t call me that.”
“Right, right,” Gabriel repeated his innocent little hand raise, “Cas-ti-el.” He over-enunciated each syllable.
“Ga-bri-el…” Lady Novak glared back at him, her voice low and forced through clenched teeth, “enough.”
And by that tone, Gabriel knew it was time to shut his big, fat mouth. The three climbed up the palace steps. That ache in Castiel’s joints was incredibly pronounced as his hips tilted when he walked, as each knee bent to pick up a leg, as each ankle took on the weight of his whole body between every step.
Worst was the fatigue. It didn’t help that his heart was racing as they got closer and closer to the castle and the fatigue had only gotten more unbearable. By the time they had reached the top of the steps, his head was swimming with this fuzzy feeling that radiated from his eyes to his forehead and a thick feeling in his throat that had him convinced he was seconds away from emptying out the already empty contents of his stomach.
He was debating what might be worse. Passing out in front of the queen might have him socially ostracized but he couldn’t imagine puking on her would result in anything besides a beheading. Perhaps a beheading was mercy. He wouldn’t have to live with eternal embarrassment and shame. Or maybe he would… Is vomiting on the queen a sin? It might be. Both options just ended up sounding like Hell to him.
The first thing Castiel noted as they walked in was the amount of people in attendance. Too many. He saw many familiar faces. People he grew up around. The other squires he trained with and even the family of the knight he trained under. They’d come to celebrate his achievement and Castiel should feel grateful about that. Normally he would. However, he was preoccupied with the fact that they would all notice Lord Novak’s absence. He walked a little closer next to his mother subconsciously. It was inevitable they were going to question her about it. What excuses would she make for him?
Castiel was on edge, he noticed. He noticed it before in those hours he mentioned to Gabriel. Middle of the night, clasped hands shaking while his conversation with God slowly slipped into death. He was noticing it even more now. He didn’t think he was that nervous about the impending accolade. Sure, this was his entire life. His past, present, and future were all surrounded around this achievement. It wasn’t that big of a deal, though. This was just an expectation he was living up to. His father certainly made sure he knew this was nothing.
Yet, despite that, here Castiel was. Head fuzzy, nauseous, and probably having an active heart attack. He barely registered as a man, who was probably one of the many servants in the castle, stood before the entirety of the audience to announce the queen.
Queen MacLeod. Married into the castle from a different royal family, she took the place of her late husband when he died only a few months after the marriage. There were many whispers surrounding her presumed involvement in the king’s death. One of the more outlandish ones being that she was a witch that hexed him on their wedding day.
She stood with the knighting sword, the tip held to the ground while her hands sat folded on the hilt. Now was the time to play the part. Castiel moved robotically. Not intentionally. Just an unfortunate side effect of desperately needing to get this over with so his entire nervous system would stop buzzing. He walked, one foot in front of the other, as the man rattled off the scripted announcement of Castiel and the accolade as a whole.
Castiel did exactly as he should when he reached the queen. He presented himself to her, down on one knee with his head bowed. Queen MacLeod rested her chin on her hands, leaning over the sword as she looked down at him.
“Castiel Novak, it was?” She asked, her accent immediately noticeable to Castiel.
“Yes, Your Grace,” he answered.
“I’ve heard of you, you know.”
That wasn’t part of the script he was preparing for in his head. Castiel tried not to react suddenly with the extent of the surprise that statement had given him. Raising his head would’ve been incredibly impolite. He kept his head held down and his gaze trained to the floor while his shoulders tensed a little. “You… have?” He spoke slowly, carefully, hoping it didn’t betray how caught off guard he was.
“Lord Shurley,” she replied and just that had already filled it in for him, “I’m sure you know he visits the castle rather often. He’s a good friend of mine.”
Right… Castiel really should have figured that it’d be the case. He couldn’t help the way his brain was instantly annoyed, though. Oh, great. He talks about me.
“He’s quite fascinated with you,” she continued.
Fantastic.
“You trained under his second born son, correct?”
“That’s correct, Your Grace.”
“He’s had a close eye on you ever since,” the queen said, “and when Lord Shurley talks so highly about a young man such as yourself, I tend to trust his judgement.”
Well… That’s rather good. Isn’t it?
“If all that he’s said about you is true, it’s no surprise that you’re here before me today,” she straightened up her posture, “so, I ask you, Castiel Novak, do you understand your sworn duties?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Castiel answered, “I understand and I am devoted to the responsibilities I will be awarded to uphold the law under the Lord and Your Majesty’s command.”
“Then it is with great honor that I grant you the title of Sir Novak,” Queen MacLeod raised the sword. With a tap to the right and then the left shoulder, it was official.
Sir Castiel Novak.