In Search Of Fields So Green: 2/3
http://safiyabat.livejournal.com/41667.htmlArt Title:
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Fic Title: In Search Of Fields So Green
Author:safiyabat
Genre: SPN
Pairing: Meg/Castiel, implied Sam/Rowena
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, probable historical inaccuracy, sexual content, mention of past torture. Story is from the POV of pagan Vikings, so people with good feelings about the medieval Church might be uncomfortable.
Meg didn’t expect much when she went into her first meeting with Castiel. She went into the dungeon and found his cell easily, even though she’d never been here before. There were only so many cells, after all, and so many options for a cell that could possibly contain Castiel.
The leader looked up when Meg entered the cell, and his eyes narrowed. “If you’re thinking of trying to overpower me and escape, I’d recommend that you reconsider,” Meg advised. “It’s your choice, but you wouldn’t get far.”
Castiel snorted in disdain. “I have honor,” he told her. “More than the last person to sit in this cell.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So this was Sam’s cell, when he was your guest.”
Castiel had the good grace to look away. “What are your intentions for me and my men? For the people of Anglia? How is it that the town yet stands?”
Meg shook her head and bit her lip, trying to hold back a snicker at his formal language. “The town stands, Castiel, because we didn’t come here to burn it down.” When he squinted at her in confusion, she stopped trying to hold back her laughter. “Okay. Is that really what they told you about us? That all we do is descend, burn and pillage, and then leave again? Please. Anglia is mine now. I’ll probably call my kingdom something else, but you know. Details, right?” She walked around the small room, keeping her eyes on him.
Castiel composed his face quickly. “And the people?”
“They were your serfs. They’ll have more freedom as thralls, most likely. Some will be sold, of course. Especially since your friends were so rude as to take most of their treasure and go hide somewhere like the lily-livered cowards that they are.” She grinned at him. “I don’t suppose that you’d care to share where they went, now, would you?”
Her prisoner scowled and turned his face away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. He resisted, but she was stronger than she looked. All those years of swinging a sword had done their job. “I think you do, Castiel. You were left here, in your lord’s hall, to guard Haven. I know damn well that they didn’t leave you behind as the new King of Anglia.”
His jaw set. “I have nothing to say.”
She gave a little laugh, the kind that had most men eating out of her hand in a matter of seconds. He wasn’t going to lie outright and pretend that he’d been anointed the king of Anglia, which would have been blasphemy. At the same time, he wasn’t going to say anything that might reveal his lord’s hiding place either. “Oh, Castiel.” She patted his cheek, just this side of gentle. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll tell me everything.”
“You do plan to resort to torture then.” His back stiffened.
She threw her head back and laughed again. “You Anglians must get off on that. It keeps coming up around you people. First Sam, now this. I don’t usually need to resort to anything of the sort.” She moved closer to him, getting right up into his space. “No - when I take you apart, the only screaming you’ll do is out of pleasure.”
Castiel gulped. “Are your people so irreligious that you would stoop so low?”
“What, as to enjoy sex?”
“With a man who is not your husband?”
Meg stepped back, laughing again. “Oh, Castiel. Don’t ever change. Tell me. Where did Raphael and the others go?”
“No.”
“Why are you protecting them? They’ve certainly done you no favors. They’ve left you here to rot. Considering what they did to Sam, they’re surely expecting that you’ll suffer as he did.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“Raphael is my king, anointed with holy oil and duly appointed by God Himself. He assigned me to stay here and protect his retreat, so stay I will. A pagan like you can never hope to understand.” Castiel tilted his head to the side.
“Oh, we understand loyalty.” Meg pressed her lips together. “For example, we get that it works both ways. We don’t expect our subordinates to sacrifice their lives so we can get away and sit around in happy, shiny safety.”
“His Majesty will return and avenge me, no matter what you and your tribe of monsters do to me.” Castiel sat down and put his back against the wall.
Meg sneered down at him. “Oh, that’s cute. You really believe that, don’t you?” She walked toward the doorway. “Feel free to come back and take your ‘I told you so’ when that shackle grows into your ankle, Castiel.”
She had other things that she needed to work on, like dealing with crops and land allocations. The servant who had been the cook for Raphael turned up, apparently willing enough to continue in his job so long as he was not a slave. Meg agreed to his terms, so long as the new freeman was willing to live by her laws, and dinner was prepared.
After dinner, she sent for the brothers and their pet witch, intent on discussing the results of their interviews with the prisoners. Meg reported her conversation with Castiel right away, prompting giggles from both brothers. “What’s so funny?” she demanded, hands on her hips.
“It’s just - well, Cas always had a stick up his ass about things like that,” Dean explained, waving a hand. “He grew up in a monastery or something. It’s just kind of hilarious because he truly believes that everyone truly does wait until marriage, and all of that. He’s kind of innocent. And then along comes you.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “He knows better than that. But yeah. It was probably a lot like getting hit in the face by a bucket of ice water.” He snickered. “Can’t think of someone who deserves it more.”
“Be nice,” Dean chided.
“I am.” Sam turned back to Meg. “This is something we can use to our advantage, though.”
Meg nodded, stroking her chin. “Yeah. The monastery thing gives me an idea. The toad priest Zachariah is among the missing, isn’t he?”
“There’s a monastery not too far from here,” Rowena chimed in. “Reachable by boat, too. Not that anyone asked me, but you know. Just thought I’d make a contribution. Since I’m here, and all.”
Both brothers glowered at her. “Is there now?” Meg grinned. “Let’s see if we can work on that.”
She let Castiel stew in his own hope and faith for a few more days. She didn’t completely discount the notion that the deposed king of Anglia would return for his kingdom. After all, if she’d been chased from her land with her tail between her legs, she’d come back as soon as she could. She made sure that the walls got reinforced, and that the hidden escape route got blocked up.
For the most part, however, she paid attention to establishing the kingdom. She might want to return to the commander’s cell, might want to muss all that dark hair and see if she couldn’t redirect all of that quiet intensity to a better use, but that was a long-term campaign. She’d lose if she pushed too far too fast, and Meg hated to lose.
At the end of the week, she returned to Castiel’s cell with some clean clothes and a washbasin for him. “I thought you might appreciate the change,” she offered. She tried for neutral, but the best she got was “mild smirk.” “It’s been a little while and your clothes weren’t exactly clean when you came in here.”
He regarded the garments with a dubious gaze. “What are these heathen markings?”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re a decoration, dumbass. We like them on our clothes. They make them less boring. Don’t think we had those specially made for you; they’re hand-me-downs. I think you probably know the previous owner. His name is Dean.”
Castiel’s face relaxed. “He is a righteous man, despite persisting in ignorance.”
Meg leaned against the wall. “Go ahead and get cleaned up. You reek.”
Her prisoner blushed. “I am not accustomed to appearing naked before women.”
She snickered. “So don’t undress fully. Be discreet. You must have done so where you were raised, in that monastery.”
Castiel froze. “How do you know about that?”
She snorted. “I have both of the brothers working for me, Castiel. You saw them fighting by my side. Don’t insult my intelligence. Go on, get cleaned up. If I have to tell you again I’ll call Sam to do it, and you won’t like that.” Sam wouldn’t harm Castiel, even if he wanted to; that was the difference between Sam and his former captors. Castiel didn’t know that, though, and Meg was more than happy to use that information against him. “Good boy.”
“Alright,” Castiel sighed, removing his tunic and washing his chest and face. “Yes. I was raised in a monastery.”
“That must have been interesting.” She didn’t bother to hide her admiration of his toned muscles.
“I appreciated the routine.” Castiel glared at her. “It wasn’t so bad. I knew what to do and when to do it. There was a time for everything. Time for morning prayers, time for chores, time for reading and for study. There were no shades of gray.”
She nodded. “Good and bad.”
“Right and wrong.” He drew Dean’s borrowed tunic over himself before removing his lower garments, much to her chagrin. “There was no temptation at all. I liked that.”
“So you do feel temptation.”
“Of course.” He closed his eyes and sighed, pausing in his ablutions for just a moment. “I am tempted to anger, which is a deadly sin. I am tempted to pride, which is likewise a sin.”
She stepped closer. “And lust?”
He let out a high-pitched whine. “Rarely, but yes.”
Meg laughed in a soft voice. “Excellent.” She stepped back from him. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that your King hasn’t returned.”
Castiel dried himself off and pulled on the pants with which he’d been provided. “He will.”
“Were you close?”
“King Raphael would never abandon his people like you say. He can’t. He is sealed to his people when he is consecrated to them, at his coronation. It’s a sacred oath.” He turned to face her before dunking his hair into the basin.
She waited for him to stand back up. In a way, she felt kind of bad for him. It would hurt, when the truth hit him. “Perhaps it would be sacred, if it were you who had been crowned. I don’t think that Raphael takes it as seriously as you do. Otherwise how would he feel about the fact that I’ve already sent a load of thralls off to Rus for sale?”
Castiel gasped. “You’ve what? How could you?”
She shrugged. “They were unwilling to live under my rule, and it’s not as though I needed them. I’ve been willing to let those willing to live our way stay; they have more freedom than they did as Saxon serfs and slaves, that’s for certain. They weren’t willing to live at peace with pagans, and we certainly weren’t willing to live with those kind of weasels in our nest, so they had to go.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’d have preferred that I killed them?”
“I’d prefer that you all went away.”
She stroked his cheek. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“I really would.”
Meg laughed at him. “You say that. Part of you might even mean it. The truth is, Castiel, you’re already starting to question what you were told by Raphael and your other superiors. They told you that we would slaughter and burn and rape our way through the village, and we’ve done none of those things. They told you that if you were captured you’d be tortured, much as you tortured your own captives for nothing but your superiors’ enjoyment. That hasn’t happened either. The only thing you can say actually happened is what I told you. You’ve been abandoned by your king. All that’s left for you is us.”
“No.” He turned his face away. “I’m loyal. I won’t turn away from my people.”
She laughed a little. “They’ve already turned away from you, Castiel.”
Meg left the cell. She could feel Cas’ eyes on her as she walked.
She visited him a few times over the next couple of weeks, although she tried to keep her visits brief. She wanted to know more about the monastery where he had spent his youth, but he seemed to know that this was her angle and steered away from details. She had to give him credit. He might be blind to the faults of his king and country, but he was certainly smart.
He got used to having her in his presence, too. He clearly hadn’t been used to interacting with women in any way. From what the brothers and Rowena told Meg, this was normal. The Saxons had become accustomed to segregating their genders since they adopted the Eastern God, although Castiel’s upbringing took this tendency to an extreme. More frequent contact helped to ease his shock at her presence, her power in her community, and she took full advantage.
She also never failed to point out that his king still hadn’t com for him. Initially, she had suspected that Raphael might have gone to one of the other Saxon kingdoms on the island, to Mercia perhaps, but if that had been the case she surely would have heard about it by now. Instead, she had to suspect that he’d holed up in a monastery somewhere, possibly the same one that had housed Castiel throughout his childhood.
The thought angered her. Castiel had been so willing to lay down his own life to help his monarch with the expectation of loyalty in return; how could a king worth the word not care about his bondsmen?
Two months after the initial capture of Anglia, Meg went to Castiel with news. “It seems your little friend Ion decided to escape.”
Castiel smirked at her. “If you’ve had him shackled to the wall the way you’ve had me, that shouldn’t have been possible. Perhaps you have a traitor in your midst.”
Meg patted him on the head. “You know, we thought of that. We really did. We decided to use our resident seidkona, though, and we figured out pretty quickly that what actually happened was that he took advantage of a loose bolt that was holding the shackle to the wall. Not a big deal; we’re already getting someone to fix it. But he didn’t come here to rescue you, Castiel.”
Castiel swallowed, hard. “That’s fine. He probably thinks that I’m dead anyway.”
“But he doesn’t.” She took his hand, and he didn’t pull it away. “Inias and Samandriel both have faith in you, Castiel. Ion does not. He escaped, went over the wall to a small rowboat that he already had hidden away.”
Castiel couldn’t hide the horror from his eyes, even though he tried to turn away. “This was planned.” His voice was barely audible.
“Yes. He always planned to flee. And you and whoever was left with you were always intended to die.” She squeezed his hand. “Now, that rowboat wasn’t intended to go far, love.”
He shook his head. “No. A small craft like that can’t have gone far.”
She looked at his face and bit her tongue. There was so much else that she could have said. She could have brought up everything else that Sam and Rowena had scryed out with their magic, like the fact that Ion was intended to return to Haven to make it look like he’d been ambushed. Or that they’d already found the location of the monastery, they only wanted Castiel’s cooperation now. Instead, she bent down and touched her lips lightly to his. “Would you like to tour the town? See what changes we’ve made with your own eyes? That way you won’t have to depend on my word. You can make your own choices.”
He hesitated. Even after all this time, he still hesitated. In the end, though, he nodded. “I think that’s best.” He stood. “Must I be shackled?”
“Will you give me your word not to try to attack any of my people, or try to run off yourself?”
He offered her a rueful grin, endearing in its way. “I have nowhere to go.” Then he took a deep breath and sobered. “You have my word.”
Meg took him by the hand and led him around the main town. He winced a little at the thought of the Anglian temple becoming a private hall, never mind the home to someone like Sam, but he confined his remarks to the health of the peasantry and kept moving. Meg applauded his discretion.
After his tour she brought him back to her house for dinner, where they were joined by the brothers and Rowena. Rowena sniffed a little, and Sam didn’t speak much, but no one objected outright and they all got through the meal civilly.
When the meal was finished, Meg led Castiel back to her room. He paused at the threshold, but then he shook his head and crossed over. She kissed him there. “We have so much to offer you, Castiel,” she promised.
His eyes seemed shadowed, but he ran his pink tongue over his chapped lips. “I must speak to Samandriel and Inias first, but Meg - I want to join.”
She nodded, and kissed him again. They knew where they stood, and she respected a leader who showed concern for his men. She’d want the same.
For someone who had been so isolated from women for so much of his life, Castiel seemed to know what to do with his mouth. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe the boys at the monastery hadn’t had their minds as strictly on their prayers as they claimed. He was no passive kisser, but showed himself as eager to taste as to be tasted. He explored with his hands too, tentatively at first and then more boldly as Meg’s own exploration encouraged him.
They got one another out of their tunics at about the same time, and Meg ran her hand over the smooth muscles she’d only been able to steal glances of before. For his part, Castiel seemed to want to taste more than anything else. He couldn’t keep his mouth off of her neck, her chest, her breasts. She certainly wasn’t going to complain. He might lack finesse, but that would come in time. He made up for it with enthusiasm and raw talent; his tongue had a kind of nimbleness that she’d rarely seen anywhere else.
She could feel his cock, hard and proud inside his baggy trousers, and she stroked along outside the cloth for a while. She knew it left him aching, but it got the most delightful little sounds out of him and she couldn’t resist. After a while, though, she had to have them both naked, a plan that he couldn’t object to. She stripped them both quickly and efficiently, and wrestled him so that he was lying on his back on her bed. “Are you ready for this, Castiel?” she asked him.
He nodded, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. “Please, Meg.”
She smiled, just a tiny little bit. “Alright. Hold on.” She climbed up on top of Castiel, straddling him, and sank down slowly onto him.
For a moment, she thought she might have killed him. He froze completely, eyes wide and mouth frozen into a perfect “o.” Then, just when she started to worry that she might need to call for help and explain this, he let out a long, low groan of pleasure. “Oh, Meg.”
She relaxed and sent off a quick mental prayer of thanks to whatever gods might happen to be listening. Then she started to move. Once Castiel figured out that a rhythm was a good thing to have, he moved too, hands on her hips to help hold her steady as they ground themselves toward completion.
Castiel’s eyes were glued to her, so she licked her lips and snaked her hand in between her legs to find her clit. Some guys hated that, wanted to think that they were enough to get someone off no matter what, but Castiel wouldn’t know enough to have his masculinity threatened by something like this. With Meg helping herself along, it didn’t take long before they were both coming, and Meg collapsed in a happy, sated heap across Castiel’s chest.
“Is it always like that?” Castiel asked her, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close.
She kissed his cheek. “It’s different every time,” she promised. “If you do it right, though, it’s always good.”
“How do I know if I’m doing it right?”
“Just pay attention to your partner. If they feel good, and you feel good, you’re probably doing it right.”
He kissed her then, and as they fell asleep in one another’s arms she thought to herself, “I could get used to this.”
The next day they cleaned up and she took him to visit his remaining men. He impressed her with his honesty. “Inias, Samandriel, I know this will appall you, but it turns out that we’ve been betrayed. Our king has abandoned us. We were left here to die - abandoned, so that he could make his escape. He will not come back for us. Ion was working with him the whole time. He’s escaped; he had his escape planned ever since Jarl - excuse me, Queen Meg took Anglia.
“She’s offered us the opportunity to join with them, to turn our swords against our former masters and exact revenge. I’ve resisted for this long, but when I learned of Ion’s perfidy I couldn’t resist. She has shown me her fairness toward her people, and toward those Anglians willing to abide under Viking rule. I believe that as free men under her protection, as warriors in her ranks, we will be better served and better valued than ever we were under Raphael.”
Inias and Samandriel exchanged glances. Then Samandriel stood up, his long chain clanking as he rose. “Sir, I’ve been happy to fight under you since I was a page. I’m happy to continue to do so. You’ve never steered me wrong before.” Meg held her tongue on that; he certainly had steered Samandriel wrong, he’d led them under Raphael, but she supposed he could hardly be blamed for following the dictates of tradition. After all, now that he was confronted with reality he was willing enough to change. “I’ll stay with you.”
“As will I.” Inias had paled at the news of Ion’s betrayal, but now he recovered his color. “Our service was always based on the idea that we would be protected. We weren’t.”
“You will now, just as any of my men.” Meg held out a hand to the others. “You’ll be free to exercise your faith, so long as it doesn’t interfere with others’ exercise of theirs.”
“That’s all anyone can ask, Lady.” Inias bowed.
Sam brought in the key, and while both men flinched at the sight of the man they’d only known as an abomination they said nothing as he released them from their chains. Castiel went so far as to offer Sam a hand to shake, which Sam accepted after a moment.
Meg felt like she’d accomplished something.
While one of Meg’s karls helped find housing and equipment for Inias and Samandriel, Castiel accompanied Meg upstairs to her hall and outlined for her and the brothers where he thought that the more senior Anglian nobility would have gone. “Ion, assuming that he was working with them and not for some other wretched party, would have gone directly to the ones holding his leash. Since he only had a rowboat, he couldn’t have gone far. I can only think of one place, and that is the Monastery of the Queen of Heaven.”
Sam met his eyes. “The one where you grew up.”
Dean looked at Sam. “Why do you know that?” Then he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t answer that; I don’t care. Why would Raphael go there?”
Castiel gave a thin little smile, a marked contrast to the one he’d worn the night before. “Well, for starters the abbot is a good friend of his. For another, it is accessible only by boat, and not many people know about it.”
Meg leaned forward on her hands. “Well, we’re in that number now. Aren’t we?”
Back to Chapter One -- On to Chapter Three
Prompt Number:
Artist:
Fic Title: In Search Of Fields So Green
Author:safiyabat
Genre: SPN
Pairing: Meg/Castiel, implied Sam/Rowena
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, probable historical inaccuracy, sexual content, mention of past torture. Story is from the POV of pagan Vikings, so people with good feelings about the medieval Church might be uncomfortable.
Meg didn’t expect much when she went into her first meeting with Castiel. She went into the dungeon and found his cell easily, even though she’d never been here before. There were only so many cells, after all, and so many options for a cell that could possibly contain Castiel.
The leader looked up when Meg entered the cell, and his eyes narrowed. “If you’re thinking of trying to overpower me and escape, I’d recommend that you reconsider,” Meg advised. “It’s your choice, but you wouldn’t get far.”
Castiel snorted in disdain. “I have honor,” he told her. “More than the last person to sit in this cell.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So this was Sam’s cell, when he was your guest.”
Castiel had the good grace to look away. “What are your intentions for me and my men? For the people of Anglia? How is it that the town yet stands?”
Meg shook her head and bit her lip, trying to hold back a snicker at his formal language. “The town stands, Castiel, because we didn’t come here to burn it down.” When he squinted at her in confusion, she stopped trying to hold back her laughter. “Okay. Is that really what they told you about us? That all we do is descend, burn and pillage, and then leave again? Please. Anglia is mine now. I’ll probably call my kingdom something else, but you know. Details, right?” She walked around the small room, keeping her eyes on him.
Castiel composed his face quickly. “And the people?”
“They were your serfs. They’ll have more freedom as thralls, most likely. Some will be sold, of course. Especially since your friends were so rude as to take most of their treasure and go hide somewhere like the lily-livered cowards that they are.” She grinned at him. “I don’t suppose that you’d care to share where they went, now, would you?”
Her prisoner scowled and turned his face away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. He resisted, but she was stronger than she looked. All those years of swinging a sword had done their job. “I think you do, Castiel. You were left here, in your lord’s hall, to guard Haven. I know damn well that they didn’t leave you behind as the new King of Anglia.”
His jaw set. “I have nothing to say.”
She gave a little laugh, the kind that had most men eating out of her hand in a matter of seconds. He wasn’t going to lie outright and pretend that he’d been anointed the king of Anglia, which would have been blasphemy. At the same time, he wasn’t going to say anything that might reveal his lord’s hiding place either. “Oh, Castiel.” She patted his cheek, just this side of gentle. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll tell me everything.”
“You do plan to resort to torture then.” His back stiffened.
She threw her head back and laughed again. “You Anglians must get off on that. It keeps coming up around you people. First Sam, now this. I don’t usually need to resort to anything of the sort.” She moved closer to him, getting right up into his space. “No - when I take you apart, the only screaming you’ll do is out of pleasure.”
Castiel gulped. “Are your people so irreligious that you would stoop so low?”
“What, as to enjoy sex?”
“With a man who is not your husband?”
Meg stepped back, laughing again. “Oh, Castiel. Don’t ever change. Tell me. Where did Raphael and the others go?”
“No.”
“Why are you protecting them? They’ve certainly done you no favors. They’ve left you here to rot. Considering what they did to Sam, they’re surely expecting that you’ll suffer as he did.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“Raphael is my king, anointed with holy oil and duly appointed by God Himself. He assigned me to stay here and protect his retreat, so stay I will. A pagan like you can never hope to understand.” Castiel tilted his head to the side.
“Oh, we understand loyalty.” Meg pressed her lips together. “For example, we get that it works both ways. We don’t expect our subordinates to sacrifice their lives so we can get away and sit around in happy, shiny safety.”
“His Majesty will return and avenge me, no matter what you and your tribe of monsters do to me.” Castiel sat down and put his back against the wall.
Meg sneered down at him. “Oh, that’s cute. You really believe that, don’t you?” She walked toward the doorway. “Feel free to come back and take your ‘I told you so’ when that shackle grows into your ankle, Castiel.”
She had other things that she needed to work on, like dealing with crops and land allocations. The servant who had been the cook for Raphael turned up, apparently willing enough to continue in his job so long as he was not a slave. Meg agreed to his terms, so long as the new freeman was willing to live by her laws, and dinner was prepared.
After dinner, she sent for the brothers and their pet witch, intent on discussing the results of their interviews with the prisoners. Meg reported her conversation with Castiel right away, prompting giggles from both brothers. “What’s so funny?” she demanded, hands on her hips.
“It’s just - well, Cas always had a stick up his ass about things like that,” Dean explained, waving a hand. “He grew up in a monastery or something. It’s just kind of hilarious because he truly believes that everyone truly does wait until marriage, and all of that. He’s kind of innocent. And then along comes you.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “He knows better than that. But yeah. It was probably a lot like getting hit in the face by a bucket of ice water.” He snickered. “Can’t think of someone who deserves it more.”
“Be nice,” Dean chided.
“I am.” Sam turned back to Meg. “This is something we can use to our advantage, though.”
Meg nodded, stroking her chin. “Yeah. The monastery thing gives me an idea. The toad priest Zachariah is among the missing, isn’t he?”
“There’s a monastery not too far from here,” Rowena chimed in. “Reachable by boat, too. Not that anyone asked me, but you know. Just thought I’d make a contribution. Since I’m here, and all.”
Both brothers glowered at her. “Is there now?” Meg grinned. “Let’s see if we can work on that.”
She let Castiel stew in his own hope and faith for a few more days. She didn’t completely discount the notion that the deposed king of Anglia would return for his kingdom. After all, if she’d been chased from her land with her tail between her legs, she’d come back as soon as she could. She made sure that the walls got reinforced, and that the hidden escape route got blocked up.
For the most part, however, she paid attention to establishing the kingdom. She might want to return to the commander’s cell, might want to muss all that dark hair and see if she couldn’t redirect all of that quiet intensity to a better use, but that was a long-term campaign. She’d lose if she pushed too far too fast, and Meg hated to lose.
At the end of the week, she returned to Castiel’s cell with some clean clothes and a washbasin for him. “I thought you might appreciate the change,” she offered. She tried for neutral, but the best she got was “mild smirk.” “It’s been a little while and your clothes weren’t exactly clean when you came in here.”
He regarded the garments with a dubious gaze. “What are these heathen markings?”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re a decoration, dumbass. We like them on our clothes. They make them less boring. Don’t think we had those specially made for you; they’re hand-me-downs. I think you probably know the previous owner. His name is Dean.”
Castiel’s face relaxed. “He is a righteous man, despite persisting in ignorance.”
Meg leaned against the wall. “Go ahead and get cleaned up. You reek.”
Her prisoner blushed. “I am not accustomed to appearing naked before women.”
She snickered. “So don’t undress fully. Be discreet. You must have done so where you were raised, in that monastery.”
Castiel froze. “How do you know about that?”
She snorted. “I have both of the brothers working for me, Castiel. You saw them fighting by my side. Don’t insult my intelligence. Go on, get cleaned up. If I have to tell you again I’ll call Sam to do it, and you won’t like that.” Sam wouldn’t harm Castiel, even if he wanted to; that was the difference between Sam and his former captors. Castiel didn’t know that, though, and Meg was more than happy to use that information against him. “Good boy.”
“Alright,” Castiel sighed, removing his tunic and washing his chest and face. “Yes. I was raised in a monastery.”
“That must have been interesting.” She didn’t bother to hide her admiration of his toned muscles.
“I appreciated the routine.” Castiel glared at her. “It wasn’t so bad. I knew what to do and when to do it. There was a time for everything. Time for morning prayers, time for chores, time for reading and for study. There were no shades of gray.”
She nodded. “Good and bad.”
“Right and wrong.” He drew Dean’s borrowed tunic over himself before removing his lower garments, much to her chagrin. “There was no temptation at all. I liked that.”
“So you do feel temptation.”
“Of course.” He closed his eyes and sighed, pausing in his ablutions for just a moment. “I am tempted to anger, which is a deadly sin. I am tempted to pride, which is likewise a sin.”
She stepped closer. “And lust?”
He let out a high-pitched whine. “Rarely, but yes.”
Meg laughed in a soft voice. “Excellent.” She stepped back from him. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that your King hasn’t returned.”
Castiel dried himself off and pulled on the pants with which he’d been provided. “He will.”
“Were you close?”
“King Raphael would never abandon his people like you say. He can’t. He is sealed to his people when he is consecrated to them, at his coronation. It’s a sacred oath.” He turned to face her before dunking his hair into the basin.
She waited for him to stand back up. In a way, she felt kind of bad for him. It would hurt, when the truth hit him. “Perhaps it would be sacred, if it were you who had been crowned. I don’t think that Raphael takes it as seriously as you do. Otherwise how would he feel about the fact that I’ve already sent a load of thralls off to Rus for sale?”
Castiel gasped. “You’ve what? How could you?”
She shrugged. “They were unwilling to live under my rule, and it’s not as though I needed them. I’ve been willing to let those willing to live our way stay; they have more freedom than they did as Saxon serfs and slaves, that’s for certain. They weren’t willing to live at peace with pagans, and we certainly weren’t willing to live with those kind of weasels in our nest, so they had to go.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’d have preferred that I killed them?”
“I’d prefer that you all went away.”
She stroked his cheek. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“I really would.”
Meg laughed at him. “You say that. Part of you might even mean it. The truth is, Castiel, you’re already starting to question what you were told by Raphael and your other superiors. They told you that we would slaughter and burn and rape our way through the village, and we’ve done none of those things. They told you that if you were captured you’d be tortured, much as you tortured your own captives for nothing but your superiors’ enjoyment. That hasn’t happened either. The only thing you can say actually happened is what I told you. You’ve been abandoned by your king. All that’s left for you is us.”
“No.” He turned his face away. “I’m loyal. I won’t turn away from my people.”
She laughed a little. “They’ve already turned away from you, Castiel.”
Meg left the cell. She could feel Cas’ eyes on her as she walked.
She visited him a few times over the next couple of weeks, although she tried to keep her visits brief. She wanted to know more about the monastery where he had spent his youth, but he seemed to know that this was her angle and steered away from details. She had to give him credit. He might be blind to the faults of his king and country, but he was certainly smart.
He got used to having her in his presence, too. He clearly hadn’t been used to interacting with women in any way. From what the brothers and Rowena told Meg, this was normal. The Saxons had become accustomed to segregating their genders since they adopted the Eastern God, although Castiel’s upbringing took this tendency to an extreme. More frequent contact helped to ease his shock at her presence, her power in her community, and she took full advantage.
She also never failed to point out that his king still hadn’t com for him. Initially, she had suspected that Raphael might have gone to one of the other Saxon kingdoms on the island, to Mercia perhaps, but if that had been the case she surely would have heard about it by now. Instead, she had to suspect that he’d holed up in a monastery somewhere, possibly the same one that had housed Castiel throughout his childhood.
The thought angered her. Castiel had been so willing to lay down his own life to help his monarch with the expectation of loyalty in return; how could a king worth the word not care about his bondsmen?
Two months after the initial capture of Anglia, Meg went to Castiel with news. “It seems your little friend Ion decided to escape.”
Castiel smirked at her. “If you’ve had him shackled to the wall the way you’ve had me, that shouldn’t have been possible. Perhaps you have a traitor in your midst.”
Meg patted him on the head. “You know, we thought of that. We really did. We decided to use our resident seidkona, though, and we figured out pretty quickly that what actually happened was that he took advantage of a loose bolt that was holding the shackle to the wall. Not a big deal; we’re already getting someone to fix it. But he didn’t come here to rescue you, Castiel.”
Castiel swallowed, hard. “That’s fine. He probably thinks that I’m dead anyway.”
“But he doesn’t.” She took his hand, and he didn’t pull it away. “Inias and Samandriel both have faith in you, Castiel. Ion does not. He escaped, went over the wall to a small rowboat that he already had hidden away.”
Castiel couldn’t hide the horror from his eyes, even though he tried to turn away. “This was planned.” His voice was barely audible.
“Yes. He always planned to flee. And you and whoever was left with you were always intended to die.” She squeezed his hand. “Now, that rowboat wasn’t intended to go far, love.”
He shook his head. “No. A small craft like that can’t have gone far.”
She looked at his face and bit her tongue. There was so much else that she could have said. She could have brought up everything else that Sam and Rowena had scryed out with their magic, like the fact that Ion was intended to return to Haven to make it look like he’d been ambushed. Or that they’d already found the location of the monastery, they only wanted Castiel’s cooperation now. Instead, she bent down and touched her lips lightly to his. “Would you like to tour the town? See what changes we’ve made with your own eyes? That way you won’t have to depend on my word. You can make your own choices.”
He hesitated. Even after all this time, he still hesitated. In the end, though, he nodded. “I think that’s best.” He stood. “Must I be shackled?”
“Will you give me your word not to try to attack any of my people, or try to run off yourself?”
He offered her a rueful grin, endearing in its way. “I have nowhere to go.” Then he took a deep breath and sobered. “You have my word.”
Meg took him by the hand and led him around the main town. He winced a little at the thought of the Anglian temple becoming a private hall, never mind the home to someone like Sam, but he confined his remarks to the health of the peasantry and kept moving. Meg applauded his discretion.
After his tour she brought him back to her house for dinner, where they were joined by the brothers and Rowena. Rowena sniffed a little, and Sam didn’t speak much, but no one objected outright and they all got through the meal civilly.
When the meal was finished, Meg led Castiel back to her room. He paused at the threshold, but then he shook his head and crossed over. She kissed him there. “We have so much to offer you, Castiel,” she promised.
His eyes seemed shadowed, but he ran his pink tongue over his chapped lips. “I must speak to Samandriel and Inias first, but Meg - I want to join.”
She nodded, and kissed him again. They knew where they stood, and she respected a leader who showed concern for his men. She’d want the same.
For someone who had been so isolated from women for so much of his life, Castiel seemed to know what to do with his mouth. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe the boys at the monastery hadn’t had their minds as strictly on their prayers as they claimed. He was no passive kisser, but showed himself as eager to taste as to be tasted. He explored with his hands too, tentatively at first and then more boldly as Meg’s own exploration encouraged him.
They got one another out of their tunics at about the same time, and Meg ran her hand over the smooth muscles she’d only been able to steal glances of before. For his part, Castiel seemed to want to taste more than anything else. He couldn’t keep his mouth off of her neck, her chest, her breasts. She certainly wasn’t going to complain. He might lack finesse, but that would come in time. He made up for it with enthusiasm and raw talent; his tongue had a kind of nimbleness that she’d rarely seen anywhere else.
She could feel his cock, hard and proud inside his baggy trousers, and she stroked along outside the cloth for a while. She knew it left him aching, but it got the most delightful little sounds out of him and she couldn’t resist. After a while, though, she had to have them both naked, a plan that he couldn’t object to. She stripped them both quickly and efficiently, and wrestled him so that he was lying on his back on her bed. “Are you ready for this, Castiel?” she asked him.
He nodded, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. “Please, Meg.”
She smiled, just a tiny little bit. “Alright. Hold on.” She climbed up on top of Castiel, straddling him, and sank down slowly onto him.
For a moment, she thought she might have killed him. He froze completely, eyes wide and mouth frozen into a perfect “o.” Then, just when she started to worry that she might need to call for help and explain this, he let out a long, low groan of pleasure. “Oh, Meg.”
She relaxed and sent off a quick mental prayer of thanks to whatever gods might happen to be listening. Then she started to move. Once Castiel figured out that a rhythm was a good thing to have, he moved too, hands on her hips to help hold her steady as they ground themselves toward completion.
Castiel’s eyes were glued to her, so she licked her lips and snaked her hand in between her legs to find her clit. Some guys hated that, wanted to think that they were enough to get someone off no matter what, but Castiel wouldn’t know enough to have his masculinity threatened by something like this. With Meg helping herself along, it didn’t take long before they were both coming, and Meg collapsed in a happy, sated heap across Castiel’s chest.
“Is it always like that?” Castiel asked her, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close.
She kissed his cheek. “It’s different every time,” she promised. “If you do it right, though, it’s always good.”
“How do I know if I’m doing it right?”
“Just pay attention to your partner. If they feel good, and you feel good, you’re probably doing it right.”
He kissed her then, and as they fell asleep in one another’s arms she thought to herself, “I could get used to this.”
The next day they cleaned up and she took him to visit his remaining men. He impressed her with his honesty. “Inias, Samandriel, I know this will appall you, but it turns out that we’ve been betrayed. Our king has abandoned us. We were left here to die - abandoned, so that he could make his escape. He will not come back for us. Ion was working with him the whole time. He’s escaped; he had his escape planned ever since Jarl - excuse me, Queen Meg took Anglia.
“She’s offered us the opportunity to join with them, to turn our swords against our former masters and exact revenge. I’ve resisted for this long, but when I learned of Ion’s perfidy I couldn’t resist. She has shown me her fairness toward her people, and toward those Anglians willing to abide under Viking rule. I believe that as free men under her protection, as warriors in her ranks, we will be better served and better valued than ever we were under Raphael.”
Inias and Samandriel exchanged glances. Then Samandriel stood up, his long chain clanking as he rose. “Sir, I’ve been happy to fight under you since I was a page. I’m happy to continue to do so. You’ve never steered me wrong before.” Meg held her tongue on that; he certainly had steered Samandriel wrong, he’d led them under Raphael, but she supposed he could hardly be blamed for following the dictates of tradition. After all, now that he was confronted with reality he was willing enough to change. “I’ll stay with you.”
“As will I.” Inias had paled at the news of Ion’s betrayal, but now he recovered his color. “Our service was always based on the idea that we would be protected. We weren’t.”
“You will now, just as any of my men.” Meg held out a hand to the others. “You’ll be free to exercise your faith, so long as it doesn’t interfere with others’ exercise of theirs.”
“That’s all anyone can ask, Lady.” Inias bowed.
Sam brought in the key, and while both men flinched at the sight of the man they’d only known as an abomination they said nothing as he released them from their chains. Castiel went so far as to offer Sam a hand to shake, which Sam accepted after a moment.
Meg felt like she’d accomplished something.
While one of Meg’s karls helped find housing and equipment for Inias and Samandriel, Castiel accompanied Meg upstairs to her hall and outlined for her and the brothers where he thought that the more senior Anglian nobility would have gone. “Ion, assuming that he was working with them and not for some other wretched party, would have gone directly to the ones holding his leash. Since he only had a rowboat, he couldn’t have gone far. I can only think of one place, and that is the Monastery of the Queen of Heaven.”
Sam met his eyes. “The one where you grew up.”
Dean looked at Sam. “Why do you know that?” Then he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t answer that; I don’t care. Why would Raphael go there?”
Castiel gave a thin little smile, a marked contrast to the one he’d worn the night before. “Well, for starters the abbot is a good friend of his. For another, it is accessible only by boat, and not many people know about it.”
Meg leaned forward on her hands. “Well, we’re in that number now. Aren’t we?”
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