Castiel's Dragon (boyxboy)

1

The young teen kicked at the ground with a sigh, completely upset with himself.

He could never fit in with the other aristocrats. He could pretend to look perfect and regal, all pruned up like a peacock, but he still couldn't manage to truly act like one. He was still awkward and a mess of stutters, for which he was always made fun of.

He pulled at the tight coat over his arms, making it too hot under the midday sun. He removed every fancy layer of clothing, walking in the undergarments of a thin white shirt and pants.

He was very attractive looking, according to his parent and various other female suitors. He had naturally messy, coal-black hair and blue eyes as royal as his place in the kingdom's hierarchy.

Although Castiel didn't mind courting a woman, he had always noticed his eyes also lingering for attractive men, and secretly wished that society would let him court some of them as well. But they wouldn't.

The young boy was the heir of the Novak throne, Prince Castiel.

He would be expected to bring about a new heir to the throne.

But as he hid in the outskirts of the town, digging in the ground for the hidden commoner clothes he had, and put them on in place of his royal attire, he became a simple villager. A commoner.

Castiel, in his ratty wool vest, old shoes, white cotton shirt and brown cotton pants, walked over to the farmers and animal herders.

In the kingdom, only few knew what the young Prince Novak actually looked like. He was a very shy boy in his royal clothing, as he did not like everybody's expectant scrutiny, and therefore he rarely ever came out of the castle with his royal guard to let the people see him. In his commoner clothing, though, Castiel was as confident as any other chicken-chasing farm boy in the villages.

There, he identified as Cas. With that shortened name and his occasional stutter, no one would ever suspect the scrawny boy to be their heir to the throne.

And so he greeted the farmer with a smile, who then smiled back and pointed back to the expansive, flat fields of the pastures.

"Boy, herd up the sheep down there! They'll be gettin' ready for a shearin'!" He yelled.

"I'll get right to it!" Castiel yelled back, as he was glad not to be the one giving orders for once.

He ran and jumped over the wooden and wire fences of the pig pens, then over the cows, horses, and at the very end were the sheep. They baa'd at his arrival, lazily chewing on the thriving green grass.

Castiel smiled, walking up to them and stroking their thick coats. "Your coat is much thicker than I thought it would be. The farmer is right to be shearing you all."

The work was messy and awful tedious, but as his royal work was often a dozen times more tedious than anything, that was no problem, and he could deal with the messiness fairly easily. The farmer was a fair man, who gave fair pay for Castiel's work, and also happened to treat every animal in his land with care. If his father and mother accepted it, he would've loved to invite the farmer to a banquet or ball, as repayment for all the kindness he gave his land.

But, alas, Castiel could never do what he truly wished to.

Slowly but surely, Castiel moved every single sheep away from their penn and they quickly realized what was going on (the farmer had always called them smart creatures) and began to follow the typical routine and path that lead to their shearing.