You Win or You Hide, 15/?
Charlie.
“You look adorable,” said Charlie to Castiel and Dean, who were dressed in a motley assortment of plain borrowed cloaks, shirts and breeches. Both had hoods, and thankfully the wet weather meant they didn’t look suspicious by keeping them up. “Like adorable adventuring secret lovers.”
Dean visibly cringed. “We were going for ordinary.”
“Oh please, you could never look ordinary. Not that either of you are well - my type, but it’s blatantly obvious you’re both significantly better-than-average-looking. You look good together.”
Pause. “Okay,” said Dean. He and Castiel exchanged a look from their positions side-by-side on horseback, and
Charlie restrained herself from instructing: “Now kiss.”
As they left the woods and approached the city, though, her good mood evaporated. Crowley’s standard, a clawed red dragon on a black field, streamed boldly from the tower keep. The city looked dull and smoky, and ugly new steel battlements adorned the walls. They skirted around the Southern gate, in order to look more like travellers just come by the main road. The great gates had been re-fortified, Charlie realized, and were heavily manned by large men wearing Crowley’s dragon on their breastplates. Two immediately stepped forwards and barred their horses with pikes.
“Business?” One demanded.
“My name is Lady Jane of Blackwell,” Charlie pulled out of the air. “I have come to buy thread and silk at the famous cloth market of the city.”
“Market’s gone,” said the guard shortly.
Charlie blinked. “What - gone?” The fine cloth and embroidery of the city was famed throughout the kingdoms, and
the weekend market was always a bustling affair.
“His Lordship the Protector of the Realm put a stop to all that when it seemed like some treasonous folk were using the market to conspire against him.”
“Well - then I shall buy at the guild house,” Charlie said.
“Out of business,” said the guard.
Charlie stared. “Well - we’ve come all this way…I suppose I will go call upon my associates at their homes.”
“Suit yourself,” said the guard, shrugging, checked them all quickly for weapons, then gestured to his fellows to
unbar the gates. “Curfew’s nightfall. By order of his Lordship, any unauthorized persons found on the streets after dark will be arrested.”
Charlie nodded. They slowly rode through the gates and into the city.
It was worse than she’d imagined. Homes and businesses alike were in disarray. The busy stalls that once crowded the streets were all but gone. The common folk they caught sight of were skinny and dirty, with looks of fear and eyes quickly averted. The cobblestones were dirty and in need of repair. Dark smoke clouded the sky.
In stark contrast to the hungry commons, strong men on horseback patrolled wearing Crowley’s livery. They were armed with pikes and swords. Charlie recognized a few of them from her days at court, and from the dark looks Dean was shooting them, so did he.
They stopped at the first open tavern they found:
“I need a drink,” said Dean.
“Is that wise?” said Castiel.
“One drink,” said Dean.
“So couple-y,” Charlie whispered.
The bar was almost deserted, fire banked low, and the serving woman wouldn’t meet their eyes.
“Two silvers,” she requested.
“For a beer?” Dean exclaimed.
“It’s the new taxes,” the woman shrugged. “You must be visitors.”
“We just got here,” said Charlie.
“Take my advice,” the woman whispered, and looked quickly back and forth. A small group of Crowley’s men were huddled around the fire. But they were distracted with their food and drink, laughing loudly. “Don’t stay.” Then she looked petrified of her own words, and hurried back to the bar.
Dean made a face as he tasted the beer then pushed it across to Cas.
“I do not like beer,” said Castiel.
“This isn’t beer,” said Dean.
Castiel tasted sipped delicately from the tankard. “Primarily water,” he surmised.
“Well?” said Dean, tilting his head in the direction of the barkeep.
Castiel blinked blue eyes at him.
“Go sound her out!” Dean said. “She’s clearly a dissenter. Which means she might know other dissenters.”
“I….would not wish to bring harm upon the good woman,” Cas looked doubtful. Charlie knew what he was feeling, but still…to take back the North they would have to endanger some innocents. She surprised herself with her hardness.
She also surprised herself by thinking of the true king as ‘Cas’.
“Come on,” she said, pulling him up by one hand. “Let’s go see what’s what.” They went up to the bar, and Dean followed a few paces behind. He was keeping one eye on the men by the fire. The barkeep clearly didn’t want to talk, and busied herself scrubbing the already-clean bar as they approached.
“My good woman,” Cas bowed, and Charlie butted in before he could say anything else:
“Have you a room for the night?”
“Oh yes,” said the barkeep. “Several.”
“Business not so hot?” asked Dean.
She smiled nervously: “We’re getting by.”
“Could you show us?” Charlie asked. “The rooms, I mean.”
“Just a moment.” The barkeep put her cloth away, and called a young man, probably her son, to come out and man the
bar while she took guests upstairs. They climbed a curved flight of wooden steps.
“This is our largest guest room. It will sleep four.” She showed them into a plain neat chamber. “My apologies for
the dust, my lords, I will summon my daughter to clean if you like it.”
“No one been here for a while?” asked Dean casually.
The barkeep looked down. It was now or never. Charlie shrugged, looked at Dean and Cas, then closed and bolted the
chamber door. The woman looked up, frightened:
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Charlie said quickly. “We just want to talk.”
“A - about what?”
“Crowley. The way he’s running the city.”
“My Lord Protector holds the city safe until the rightful king returns,” the woman mumbled, looking at her feet.
“Your king has returned,” said Castiel, with a dramatic touch Charlie approved of, and threw back his hood.
The woman stared at him.
“Here,” said Cas helpfully.
She stared some more. Charlie had to admit that Castiel wasn’t looking his most kingly. They were all grimy from the road, and he badly needed a shave. The hood had made his hair stick up in all directions. He reminded Charlie of a picture she’d once seen - a little furry bear from the Southern Isles that clung in the tree branches.
“I am Castiel, true King of the North. My father was the Good King, who was murdered by treachery. I come to claim my inheritance. With me is the famous Knight, Sir Dean of Winchester, and Charlie Bradbury, a good woman of my Household.”
Dean lowered his hood, and the barkeep’s eyes went from him to Castiel and back and again. Charlie saw recognition set in.
“Oh!” the woman gasped, and went to her knees. “I - my king - I didn’t….”
“Please, rise,” Castiel said, and helped her gallantly.
“But - forgive me your Grace, you honour my establishment - but - why are you not at the castle? Taking your rightful throne? The city needs you!”
“Alas, I fear it is not so simple,” said Castiel.
“Basically, Crowley,” said Dean.
“He is grown very powerful,” the woman nodded, wide-eyed.
“He’s ruined the city,” said Dean.
That seemed to unleash the floodgates.
“It’s been terrible,” said the woman in rush. “Folks aren’t safe in their own homes. There’s no trade and people are losing their livelihoods - Crowley has spies everywhere. He’s put loyal men to the sword - men loyal to the Eagle….but there’s others,” she added quickly. “Common folk too.”
“I would not have men die for me where it can be avoided,” said Cas gently. “The best thing would be to get word to the castle that I have returned. Then, those who are loyal must be ready to turn and fight for me when my when my army enters the city.”
“You have an army?!” exclaimed the woman, then closed her mouth fast, probably alarmed by her volume.
“A small army,” Dean admitted. “But it will serve, if at least a fair portion of the garrison join us.”
“I don’t know any men of the garrison,” the woman said. “But my husband’s nephew is a squire. Pray stay the night, Sirs - and , Lady - and I shall make enquiries.”
Castiel bowed again, and she blushed. “Have you a raven, my lady, that we might send word to my army beyond the walls?”
“Ravens aren’t allowed,” the woman shook her head. “Crowley’s men take all the messages back and forth.”
“Ugh,” Charlie sat on the edge of the bunk and put her head in her hands. “You’d think the forces of Right and
Good would get a break once in a while.”
“Yet steel is forged by trial and fire,” said Cas.
“Good one,” Dean approved: “Write that down.”
“I am practicing metaphors,” Castiel confided to Charlie. “For when I must address the people as their King, and
such.”
“I will send my daughter to wait on you,” said the woman, and left them to the chamber.
“You look adorable,” said Charlie to Castiel and Dean, who were dressed in a motley assortment of plain borrowed cloaks, shirts and breeches. Both had hoods, and thankfully the wet weather meant they didn’t look suspicious by keeping them up. “Like adorable adventuring secret lovers.”
Dean visibly cringed. “We were going for ordinary.”
“Oh please, you could never look ordinary. Not that either of you are well - my type, but it’s blatantly obvious you’re both significantly better-than-average-looking. You look good together.”
Pause. “Okay,” said Dean. He and Castiel exchanged a look from their positions side-by-side on horseback, and
Charlie restrained herself from instructing: “Now kiss.”
As they left the woods and approached the city, though, her good mood evaporated. Crowley’s standard, a clawed red dragon on a black field, streamed boldly from the tower keep. The city looked dull and smoky, and ugly new steel battlements adorned the walls. They skirted around the Southern gate, in order to look more like travellers just come by the main road. The great gates had been re-fortified, Charlie realized, and were heavily manned by large men wearing Crowley’s dragon on their breastplates. Two immediately stepped forwards and barred their horses with pikes.
“Business?” One demanded.
“My name is Lady Jane of Blackwell,” Charlie pulled out of the air. “I have come to buy thread and silk at the famous cloth market of the city.”
“Market’s gone,” said the guard shortly.
Charlie blinked. “What - gone?” The fine cloth and embroidery of the city was famed throughout the kingdoms, and
the weekend market was always a bustling affair.
“His Lordship the Protector of the Realm put a stop to all that when it seemed like some treasonous folk were using the market to conspire against him.”
“Well - then I shall buy at the guild house,” Charlie said.
“Out of business,” said the guard.
Charlie stared. “Well - we’ve come all this way…I suppose I will go call upon my associates at their homes.”
“Suit yourself,” said the guard, shrugging, checked them all quickly for weapons, then gestured to his fellows to
unbar the gates. “Curfew’s nightfall. By order of his Lordship, any unauthorized persons found on the streets after dark will be arrested.”
Charlie nodded. They slowly rode through the gates and into the city.
It was worse than she’d imagined. Homes and businesses alike were in disarray. The busy stalls that once crowded the streets were all but gone. The common folk they caught sight of were skinny and dirty, with looks of fear and eyes quickly averted. The cobblestones were dirty and in need of repair. Dark smoke clouded the sky.
In stark contrast to the hungry commons, strong men on horseback patrolled wearing Crowley’s livery. They were armed with pikes and swords. Charlie recognized a few of them from her days at court, and from the dark looks Dean was shooting them, so did he.
They stopped at the first open tavern they found:
“I need a drink,” said Dean.
“Is that wise?” said Castiel.
“One drink,” said Dean.
“So couple-y,” Charlie whispered.
The bar was almost deserted, fire banked low, and the serving woman wouldn’t meet their eyes.
“Two silvers,” she requested.
“For a beer?” Dean exclaimed.
“It’s the new taxes,” the woman shrugged. “You must be visitors.”
“We just got here,” said Charlie.
“Take my advice,” the woman whispered, and looked quickly back and forth. A small group of Crowley’s men were huddled around the fire. But they were distracted with their food and drink, laughing loudly. “Don’t stay.” Then she looked petrified of her own words, and hurried back to the bar.
Dean made a face as he tasted the beer then pushed it across to Cas.
“I do not like beer,” said Castiel.
“This isn’t beer,” said Dean.
Castiel tasted sipped delicately from the tankard. “Primarily water,” he surmised.
“Well?” said Dean, tilting his head in the direction of the barkeep.
Castiel blinked blue eyes at him.
“Go sound her out!” Dean said. “She’s clearly a dissenter. Which means she might know other dissenters.”
“I….would not wish to bring harm upon the good woman,” Cas looked doubtful. Charlie knew what he was feeling, but still…to take back the North they would have to endanger some innocents. She surprised herself with her hardness.
She also surprised herself by thinking of the true king as ‘Cas’.
“Come on,” she said, pulling him up by one hand. “Let’s go see what’s what.” They went up to the bar, and Dean followed a few paces behind. He was keeping one eye on the men by the fire. The barkeep clearly didn’t want to talk, and busied herself scrubbing the already-clean bar as they approached.
“My good woman,” Cas bowed, and Charlie butted in before he could say anything else:
“Have you a room for the night?”
“Oh yes,” said the barkeep. “Several.”
“Business not so hot?” asked Dean.
She smiled nervously: “We’re getting by.”
“Could you show us?” Charlie asked. “The rooms, I mean.”
“Just a moment.” The barkeep put her cloth away, and called a young man, probably her son, to come out and man the
bar while she took guests upstairs. They climbed a curved flight of wooden steps.
“This is our largest guest room. It will sleep four.” She showed them into a plain neat chamber. “My apologies for
the dust, my lords, I will summon my daughter to clean if you like it.”
“No one been here for a while?” asked Dean casually.
The barkeep looked down. It was now or never. Charlie shrugged, looked at Dean and Cas, then closed and bolted the
chamber door. The woman looked up, frightened:
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Charlie said quickly. “We just want to talk.”
“A - about what?”
“Crowley. The way he’s running the city.”
“My Lord Protector holds the city safe until the rightful king returns,” the woman mumbled, looking at her feet.
“Your king has returned,” said Castiel, with a dramatic touch Charlie approved of, and threw back his hood.
The woman stared at him.
“Here,” said Cas helpfully.
She stared some more. Charlie had to admit that Castiel wasn’t looking his most kingly. They were all grimy from the road, and he badly needed a shave. The hood had made his hair stick up in all directions. He reminded Charlie of a picture she’d once seen - a little furry bear from the Southern Isles that clung in the tree branches.
“I am Castiel, true King of the North. My father was the Good King, who was murdered by treachery. I come to claim my inheritance. With me is the famous Knight, Sir Dean of Winchester, and Charlie Bradbury, a good woman of my Household.”
Dean lowered his hood, and the barkeep’s eyes went from him to Castiel and back and again. Charlie saw recognition set in.
“Oh!” the woman gasped, and went to her knees. “I - my king - I didn’t….”
“Please, rise,” Castiel said, and helped her gallantly.
“But - forgive me your Grace, you honour my establishment - but - why are you not at the castle? Taking your rightful throne? The city needs you!”
“Alas, I fear it is not so simple,” said Castiel.
“Basically, Crowley,” said Dean.
“He is grown very powerful,” the woman nodded, wide-eyed.
“He’s ruined the city,” said Dean.
That seemed to unleash the floodgates.
“It’s been terrible,” said the woman in rush. “Folks aren’t safe in their own homes. There’s no trade and people are losing their livelihoods - Crowley has spies everywhere. He’s put loyal men to the sword - men loyal to the Eagle….but there’s others,” she added quickly. “Common folk too.”
“I would not have men die for me where it can be avoided,” said Cas gently. “The best thing would be to get word to the castle that I have returned. Then, those who are loyal must be ready to turn and fight for me when my when my army enters the city.”
“You have an army?!” exclaimed the woman, then closed her mouth fast, probably alarmed by her volume.
“A small army,” Dean admitted. “But it will serve, if at least a fair portion of the garrison join us.”
“I don’t know any men of the garrison,” the woman said. “But my husband’s nephew is a squire. Pray stay the night, Sirs - and , Lady - and I shall make enquiries.”
Castiel bowed again, and she blushed. “Have you a raven, my lady, that we might send word to my army beyond the walls?”
“Ravens aren’t allowed,” the woman shook her head. “Crowley’s men take all the messages back and forth.”
“Ugh,” Charlie sat on the edge of the bunk and put her head in her hands. “You’d think the forces of Right and
Good would get a break once in a while.”
“Yet steel is forged by trial and fire,” said Cas.
“Good one,” Dean approved: “Write that down.”
“I am practicing metaphors,” Castiel confided to Charlie. “For when I must address the people as their King, and
such.”
“I will send my daughter to wait on you,” said the woman, and left them to the chamber.