Lionheart

Chapter Twenty-One

Dean stayed in his room most of the next day, nursing a hangover that the rest of the castle seemed to share. The halls were sleepy and warm, the sun climbing lazily into a clear sky. Though the rest of the town and its inhabitants were happy and content, Dean was curled up in a ball in his bed, dreading having to continue on knowing that Castiel had chosen duty over him. Not that he could blame him. If there was anyone that had to choose duty, it was the King.

Eventually, though, Dean had to leave his room and go about his business as usual, especially as the castle began preparing for Naomi's arrival over the coming week. He avoided the King as much as he could, and often hid in the one place the King would never look for him: the library. He wandered in and out of the stacks, picking up books at random, flicking through them, and putting them back when nothing held his interest. Right at the back of the library, however, tucked away in a shadowy corner, he found a door with the King's sigil on it - or rather, what it was before he changed it. There was no door handle, but as soon as Dean touched the oddly warm wood, it glowed beneath his fingers and swung open for him.

Inside were shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books, all the same size, and all made of the same high-quality paper. The ones nearest the door were dyed blue, and reminded Dean of Castiel, so he walked over and picked one up. It was hefty and well-used. Dean opened it and read a few lines before snapping the book shut as he recognised the handwriting. He'd somehow stumbled upon Castiel's journals, and didn't want to pry into the King's innermost thoughts and feelings. Looking around, however, they couldn't possibly all be his. He moved down the rows of books until he came to some that were a different colour. The set before Castiel's were maroon, so Dean picked one up. It didn't take him long to figure out that he was reading the journals of Castiel's father. They began when he was young, only ten years old. Fascinated, Dean took it and sunk into a chair to read it. Dean noted that even as a child, the previous King had little to no patience, and was itching to ascend the throne. There was barely any mention of his younger brother at all, and he seemed to care little for anything other than his duty to receive the Goddess's power.

He hadn't even made it through the first year of the journals when Dean heard the bells tolling midday outside, and Dean sighed. Castiel was entertaining Balthazar that afternoon, and it was Dean's turn to be present while Charlie had a break, so he put the journal away until he could sneak back down.

He hurried up to Castiel's chambers, just in time to catch Balthazar and Ash going inside.

There was an amount of small talk, before Balthazar and Castiel drew out their papers and maps.

'Naomi is sailing, isn't she?' Castiel confirmed with Balthazar one afternoon.

'Of course she is, why on earth would she ride?' Balthazar scoffed.

'Not all of us value comfort as much as you do,' said Castiel. He'd meant to tease, but it came out a little more snappily than he'd intended.

Balthazar squinted at him. 'What's the matter with you? You were in such high spirits before.'

Dean and Ash were hovering by the door. Castiel glanced up at Dean, but Dean refused to meet his gaze.

Balthazar blinked and let out a small 'ah', but made no further comment.

It had been that way for days, both of them avoiding looking at the other. It was easier for Castiel, with plenty of things to do to distract him, but not so much for Dean.

Balthazar and Castiel went back to examining their maps and papers, and Ash nudged Dean.

'Are you all right?' he whispered.

'I'm fine,' Dean whispered back.

Ash looked between him and Castiel. 'So, you and he-'

'I'm very happy for you and King Balthazar,' Dean interrupted harshly. 'You're lucky. It doesn't always work out that way.'