Lionheart

Chapter Fifteen

Dean was hot and aching when he woke, and his mouth tasted dusty. He didn't have the energy to even open his eyes, but he wasn't particularly eager to move from deep in the feathery soft bed he was resting on. There were voices in the room, but he only recognised Castiel's. He let the sound wash over him, comforted by the soft, deep tone. He didn't pay attention to any of the actual words at first, but they soon came into focus.

'We should strike back before he reaches the north,' someone said hotly.

'We can't call the army and march north faster than him, especially not with his head start,' someone else said.

'It's imperative we act as though the goddess and I perished,' came Castiel's voice. 'It's the only way we can catch him off guard.'

The angry voice came again. 'He can't be allowed to get away with this.'

'He won't,' Castiel said soothingly.

'We should fortify the town guard at least.'

'You're right.' There was some rustling of paper, then Castiel spoke again. 'Recall all of our forces. Have the battalions patrolling the border evacuate the towns and villages along the way.'

'What will that accomplish?' the angry voice demanded.

'Keep your voice down,' Castiel said sharply. 'I imagine that in the event of my death, our forces would scramble to return and defend the heart of the kingdom until a new ruler was chosen.'

'But-'

'Do not misjudge me, General, Raphael will pay for this with nothing less than the full might of our kingdom, but we must do this the right way. If he wants war, he will have it, trust me on that.'

There was a ringing silence in the room, and the dryness in Dean's mouth was too much to bear.

He tried to roll over and find some water, but his bones all screamed in protest at once and Dean groaned loudly.

'You're dismissed,' Castiel said abruptly. 'Recall our forces. Now.'

'Yes, Your Majesty.'

The door opened and closed as the men left, and Dean opened his eyes just as Castiel drew back the curtains from around the bed.

'You look awful,' Castiel said sympathetically.

It took a moment for Dean's eyes to adjust to the light. 'I certainly feel it,' he said, his voice cracked and hoarse.

'You have a fever,' Castiel told him, pouring him a cup of water and holding it to his lips, careful not to touch him. 'It'll pass soon.'

Dean sipped the water gratefully. 'So,' Dean said, clearing his throat. 'We're going to war?'

Castiel sighed, lines worrying his forehead. 'Raphael can't be left to his own devices. He's too big a threat.'

'Right.' Dean watched Castiel's face for a moment. 'Are you sad?' he murmured, a wave of heat rolling through him.

'Usually, yes,' Castiel sighed. 'I'm hoping to minimise casualties, but there's no telling what Raphael will do.'

The rush of heat dissipated, and Dean was suddenly shivering violently.

'It'll pass,' Castiel said softly. 'Go back to sleep.'

Dean nodded, then suddenly remembered where he was. 'Where did you sleep?' he asked in concern.

'I didn't. There's too much to do, but that's not for you to be concerned about.'

'I'll rest if you will,' Dean said, though his eyes were already fluttering closed again.