Chapter Text
Dean never believed in all the “tales of olde” or the “fairy tales” that were told to him and his brother by their parents when they were younger. To him, it was a load of crap. The only explanation as to why creatures aren’t alive today is after a dark force was locked away, all magical creatures cut themselves off from all mankind.
Rolling his eyes, Dean glanced over at his brother who watched, engrossed by the story their Uncle Bobby was telling them.
Just short of his twenty-fifth birthday, Dean Winchester is the firstborn to John and Mary Winchester. First in line to the throne, after he marries and his father steps down from old age, he will rule over the Kingdom his family had built many generations ago.
Sam or ‘Sammy’, as Dean likes to call him. He will become Dean’s trusted advisor.
He zoned back into the conversation when his name was called, catching the tail end of Bobby’s story about how the creature of dark magic was imprisoned inside a vase. Trapped. Locked away and looked after by the Winchester line.
“Your highness,” The voice called again, Dean turned to see a servant standing at the entrance to the library. “Your father has requested your presence,” he said with his head bowed in respect for disturbing the moment.
Dean smiled, relieved that he didn't have to sit here and listen to the rest of this hocus pocus anymore. He stood to follow the man, hearing Bobby resume a tale his brother had never heard before, despite all the books he’s read.
The kid is a freaking genius. Glancing over his shoulder one last time, he walked through the doorway towards the throne room.
-
The bells tolled, waking the Prince from his slumber with the cries of the soldiers as they scrambled through the hallways.
Hopping out of bed, Dean ran to the door, pulling it open in time to see a group of men rushing by.
“Dean?”
Across the way, Sam was standing in his doorway, equally confused.
Dean had to hold in the chuckle at the disarray that was Sam’s hair. His normal straight brown locks that were always pulled back into a low ponytail. Now it was a mess, sticking up in random places.
Another guard ran by, disrupting the moment, bringing him back to the problem at hand. There was only one way to figure out what was going on. Walking back into his room to grab his robe, he made his way to the throne room.
Pushing the heavy door open, he and Sam were met by an array of men bustling through the corridor, their father stood amongst them, their mother sitting on her throne. Watching. From the entrance, Dean could see worry and concern on her face clearer the closer he got.
“Father,” they both called out, coming to halt just before the steps that ascended to the throne. The King stood just next to his seat with his elite guardsman standing around him, murmuring quietly to one another.
“Go back to bed,” was all he said in between the conversation after noticing their presence. His face a mix of exhaustion from being woken in the middle of the night and stress from whatever is going on. Brow furrowed as he spoke to his men as if his sons weren’t there. Some of those men bowing before dismissing themselves to carry on whatever task they were assigned.
“Like hell,” Dean interrupted, gesturing to the groupings of men scattered around the throne room, some stopping their conversation at the sudden shout. “You can’t expect me to go back to bed with something going on-”
“An artifact was stolen,” John spoke, cutting off his son mid tangent. “And not just any artifact,” just then, Bobby appeared by John’s side, a grim look on his face that Dean hadn’t seen since the passing of his wife.
“The one with the evil entity locked away,” Bobby filled in, his voice rough like he’d been pulled away from his nightly drinking. “The one capable of bringing all life as we know it to its knees, darken the skies and bring about the enslavement of the human race. And more than likely the extinction if it holds a grudge for what our ancestors did to it,”
“Then I’ll fetch it myself,” Dean put simply like it was no big deal. He’s been outside the castle numerous times. Running errands and doing his Father’s bidding. This is no different. Finding the thieves that stole a vase? That’s nothing.
“You will not,” John said, his tone harsher than Dean was anticipating. “You are to stay here. My men will suffice,” Dean watched his father rub at his face, plopping himself ungracefully into his seat as his mother reached over to rub his shoulders.
“I don’t understand,” Dean started, pulling away from his brother who tried to steer him from the room. “I’m the best you’ve got at finding this thing, better than any of the men you got. Now, of all times, you tell me ‘No’?!”
“Hold your tongue,” John bit out, eyes narrowing towards his oldest son.
Dean blinked in surprise. He’s never heard his Father speak to him in such a manner.
“This is not a job for a Prince to lose his life over,” John continued. Was that concern in his eyes? Dean observed, noticing his mother grip tightening on his father’s arm.
“Off to bed, both of you,” Bobby murmured just loud enough as if cueing up the conversations between the soldiers and councilmen that were listening in.
-
“This is crazy,” Sam stated, breaking the silence as he watched his brother pace back and forth, muttering incoherently as he went.
Sam had managed to coerce his Dean into his room, listening to ramblings of his brother about how unfair this whole situation was.
“I know. Father must be off his rocker if he won’t let me fetch a stupid vase,” Dean replied with his arms wide open, exaggerating the audacity.
“It’s not just some stupid pottery, Dean,” Sam started, his tone Dean was all too familiar with. This was the tone that signaled that he was about to give a lecture. The best way to prevent it was to cut it off at the source.
“I know it’s not. I’m just skeptical about there being an actual living being trapped in something for centuries.”
“We live in a world full of mystical beings and you don’t believe something could be contained inside a simple vase?” Sam questioned, completely appalled at his brother’s flawed logic.
“I don’t know,” Dean crossed his arms, shrugging his shoulders at the thought. “It just seems ridiculous, I’ve never seen any of these creatures. What if our ancestors trapped a small creature inside thinking it was some dark entity?”
Sam shook his head.
“Or maybe, they were hitting the hash a little harder back then,” Dean smiled at the thought of his great great great grandparents sitting around a fire, having some of that green stuff.
Sam huffed at Dean’s remark, the man didn’t care for things that couldn’t be explained, ever since they were kids. He was also stubborn and if it didn’t make sense, then he would walk away without listening to reason.
Like right now.
“I’m going to track down the thief,” Dean said out of nowhere, turning to walk out of Sam’s room.
“H-hold on a second!” The moose of a man called out, racing after his brother, entering Dean’s room to see him at his dresser, pulling on a white cotton shirt and brown trousers before walking to the corner to pick up his satchel.
“You can’t just decide to leave the Castle in an emergency like this,” Sam tried to reason, the conversation going back and forth, ending with Sam using his frame to block the doorway. Hands gripping either side to make a barrier.
“Sam, why are you acting this way?” Dean questioned after attempting to push his little brother out of the way.
“Because,” the man started, pushing back after a particularly hard shove. “You could be killed once you get your hands on it or worse, the creature could eat you,”
Raising a brow at the ridiculous statement, Dean turned away from the man. Sam, keeping his stance as he watched his brother closely.
With many years of living together, Sam knew his brother like a book. He was ready for whatever surprise that was going to come his way.
“I’m not gonna be killed, Sammy,” Dean casually walked up to the window of his room. “We both know you don’t have the stomach to be King,” Unlatching the window, he looked out to the vast surroundings that belonged to the Winchester Castle. The moon glowing brightly above him, lighting everything for him to see.
“Real funny,” Sam replied, relaxing himself a bit in the doorway.
“But I’ll admit, you are much smarter than I am,” Dean turned and perched himself to sit on the ledge, taking in his brother’s suspicious look. “You always beat me in chess and other book smart stuff.”
“What are you saying, Dean?”
“I’m your big brother, I’ll always be able to one-up you in everything,”
Taking the opportunity to swing his legs around to quickly scale down the vines below his window. He heard his name shouted above, but it would be too late. Dean has snuck down these plants too many times to know what ones were thicker and sturdier to grab than the rest.
He looked up for a second to see the upper torso of his brother peering down at him. Even though it was dark out, he could still see the worry on his face.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Dean called up once his feet hit the grass.
Sam watched his brother take off, his heart hammering in his chest as he turned to run out of the room to find his father.
Dean doesn’t know the truth.
But of course, Dean wouldn’t know anything.
It was forbidden to tell him about his involvement.
-
He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, urging his horse to ride faster after clearing the first gate. The guards looking on in question at his passing, but not daring to halt the Prince.
Whooping in success as he cleared the final gate, he was exposed to the great planes that lay beyond his kingdom. The moon shined on, full and bright as it hung in the sky, illuminating everything it touched.
The thieves couldn’t have gotten far… but Dean wasn’t told of anything about who or where the people hailed from.
Cursing to himself, he continued on his path to the woods. The only place to hide in the vast landscape. Keeping his eyes open for anything that could give any clue as to where the burglars have gotten to.
The high canopy of the trees allowed minimal lighting as he slowed his horse to a trot as they maneuvered through the thick forest. Not a sound could be heard, which meant the thieves must have come this way. The nocturnal creatures were quiet, which meant something or someone had to have come through.
Squinting his eyes through the darkness, he couldn’t make out anything the farther he went.
Snap
His horse rearing in fright, Dean clutching the reins and leaning forward to prevent himself from backsliding off. Once the horse was on all fours, he leaned forward to soothe her, eyes cast elsewhere to prevent anyone from sneaking up.
“Easy girl,” he whispered to her, patting her neck.
Off in the distance, catching his eye, a faint glow of a fire signaled life, spurring Dean to dismount. Shushing the horse as he tied her to the tree, rubbing at her neck again before he stealthily made his way in the direction.
The closer he got, the distant murmuring could be heard. Ducking down, he crawled the rest of the distance to a bush that separated him from the campfire of unfamiliar looking men.
Through the brush, he could make out uniforms of black and purple, a banner with the same colors and a pair of glowing red eyes placed right in the middle.
‘I’ve never heard of these guys before,’ Dean thought, watching the four men converse and laugh, egging each other on with worthless babble.
“That was too easy,” one of the men laughed out from his sprawled position against the tree. Dean would bet anything that he was drinking by the pouch in his hand.
“Don’t jinx us,” snarled the second from across the way, picking something up and tossing it over the fire at the man.
“Hey!” the first man complained, almost dropping the sack filled with his drink, glaring at the second.
“Enough,” came the cool words of the third, the one sitting at the edge of the fire with the fourth person who hadn’t yet spoken.
The first two muttered an apology as the third rubbed his hands together, the shroud of his hood blocking Dean’s view of his face.
“Do you think Boris got lost looking for food?” Piped up the fourth, their voice higher pitched than the three.
“Either he got lost or was hungry enough to eat it raw,” laughed the second, removing his hood to reveal a mess of black hair and a scruffy gray beard.
The others didn’t laugh.
“We shouldn’t stay here for long,” the third announced, standing up from his spot. He rubbed his hands together to rid the dirt. “We don’t know if the King will send men to retrieve his lost treasure,”
A cold rush pulsed through Dean at the announcement of the item he was looking for.
The fourth person turned in their spot to dig through a bag attached at their hip, brandishing the item in question.
“Put that away,” snapped the first, sitting up abruptly, his hood falling back to reveal long red hair, pointy ears peeking through the long locks.
“You have no ruling over what I can do,” the fourth snipped back, holding the vase up, gazing at it as it glistened in the moonlight.
Dean has only seen drawings of the item in question, the books didn’t do the item justice as it shined in the beam of moonlight.
The metallic color of the vase, embellished with depictions of leaves and vines with a full moon standing out amongst the design.
Dean stared, completely entranced by the item. His heartbeat quickening at the site, mouth suddenly dry when his eyes saw the item in person.
‘Mine,’ a voice whispered in the back of his mind, Dean snapping out of it by shaking his head. Where did that come from?
He was planning his surprise attack, the feel of a cold blade against his neck halting him from doing anything else.
“Nice ‘n easy there,” a nasally sounding voice chimed in through the quiet. Dean noticed the men around the campfire sit up at the sound. Taking a deep breath, careful not to move his neck too much, he slowly stood at the order of the man behind him with his hands raised.
He heard a low whistle as he was forcibly turned and patted down but the ugly looking man. A bowl cut with overgrown eyebrows, tall but thick in stature, with a pencil-thin mustache.
After the man was satisfied, he was told to turn around and march towards the campsite.
"Well look what we have here, boys," the second voice chuckled at the sight of Dean. "He saved us the-ow!"
"Silence," the third man demanded after throwing something at the second man from his standing position by the fire. His hood was still up but Dean was able to make out short blond hair with bright green eyes under the cover of darkness.
"I saved you?" Dean questioned with a coy smile. "Aw shucks, does that make me your hero?"
Nobody laughed.
He felt something knock at him behind his knees, causing him to crash onto his knees abruptly.
"You damage him, you deal with the boss' consequences, Boris," remarked the fourth, their voice smooth as they held the vase to their chest.
"Boss? Who might that be?" Dean questioned, unable to stop himself. "I mean, I'm always up to meeting new people,"
They remained quiet.
"I only ask because I don't recognize your banner, therefore I can't place where you hail from,"
"Juac, tie him up, and please do something about that mouth if he's not gonna go silently," the third man uttered towards Dean, watching him bring a hand to rub at his temple.
Dean smirked. 'Boris' had his hand on Dean's shoulder as ‘Juac’, the first man who had been leaning against the tree, got up to walk over towards him while pulling rope from his bag.
"Hey man, I'm not into the whole rope play," Dean said as the man approached.
"Hold him still," Juac told Boris, feeling the man's burly hands grab Dean's upper arms, keeping them tight to his body.
"Careful how you handle me," Dean commented when Juac placed the first loop around his body. "You might turn me on,"
Smirking triumphantly at the awkward pause between the two, he took the opportunity to slam his head back, grinning when he made contact after hearing a crunch followed by a howl in pain.
He turned to Juac, launching himself shoulder-first into the man's crotch. He quickly got to his feet so he could bring his foot down for a solid heal to the man's crotch again.
Hearing a 'cling' of metal had him ducking, the rope falling from him in the process. Looking up he noticed a blade sticking out of the tree. Turning his attention in the direction it came from, he had to move out of the way of the man across the fire as he launched another one.
"Maim him, if you end up killing him, you'll suffer a worse death then what hell could do for you," blondie called out to the black-haired man.
"If I could land a hit, this man is freaking squirrely as hell. Mage, do something," the blade thrower called out, glancing at the fourth person stilled perched by the fire.
Dean glanced around the tree right after another blade whizzed by him.
"That is not the reason I am here," the voice replied, cold and uncaring, as they ignored the ruckus.
"If he gets ahold of that vase, this will have all been for nothing!" Shouted knife guy temporarily distracted as they turned their anger towards their companion. Taking the opportunity, Dean pulled one of the knives out of the tree trunk, throwing without aiming towards the owner.
"F-fuck!" Cried the man, falling to his knees with the blade sticking out of his shoulder.
Dean turned his attention to the last two standing calmly as if their comrades weren't bemoaning on the forest floor in pain. Blondie finally pulled his hood off, a glare at his hair flowed free from the confines. His pale skin made his blue eyes pop.
The guy looked around in annoyance while the fourth, mysterious man stayed where he was.
"So, what's so important about this thing," Dean panted out, his adrenaline pumping in his ears, urging them to fight. But the opponents were unmoving.
He kept his hands up, ready for anything, just in case.
The mysterious man, from what he could see, cocked his head to the side as if unsure of what he just heard.
"You don't know the tale?" They questioned.
"Yeah, sure. An almighty being is "supposed" to be caged within it," using air quotes while rolling his eyes.
"Do you not believe in the legend then?" They murmured the question. Blondie folding his arms, a smirk on his lips.
Dean stayed silent.
The person stood from their spot, holding the vase close, pulling the hood down revealing...a woman!?
Her brown held up with an ornate pin, bangs framing her red eyes and tanned skin. Ears pointed like the blonde beside her.
"You should," she started. "Your destinies are intertwined since his imprisonment,"
"Mage," blondie muttered in warning.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded, confused by her statement. She smiled, from across the fire, he was able to make out the sharp canines.
"You'll find out soon enough," she replied, the two of them turning from Dean.
"H-hey!" He shouted as they began to walk away. He frantically grabbed at the closest weapon, the second blade in the tree. Throwing it haphazardly in their direction.
The woman turned, hand raising to deflect the dagger, the sound of glass smashing into the ground stopping everyone in their tracks.
Blondie and the woman stared in horror, Dean raising a brow in question when nothing happened.
He knew it!
This whole thing was a load of bullshit.
"Now that that's taken care of," Dean started, crossing his arms in amusement.
They looked from Dean to the broken vase at their feet before backing away slowly as the distant sound of thunder echoed above them.
"Hold on!" Dean went to chase after them when they began to retreat, stopping only when the clap of lightning struck above. He looked up to witness the branches bending, giving way to reveal the blackened sky above, the moon disappearing behind a dark cloud.
The wind started picking up around him, he brought his arms up to shield his face from the dirt and any scattered debris flying around him.
He heard screams around him, peeking behind him, he gaped in horror as he watched the men on the ground being contorted into weird positions, their gasps and screams sending a cold chill through his body.
The loud cracking sound of bones was clearly heard over the wind, permanently silencing the men, Dean’s stomach dropping as he watched the men burst into a pool of blood.
Gagging from the site, he was frozen in fear. He wanted to run but his feet wouldn’t move. The wind picked up, even more, Dean noticing how it all rushed towards the spot of the broken vase.
He nearly puked when he saw the blood begin to circle around the scattered remains, swirling upwards into a small tornado, the mix of red and gray, hovering over the ground.
It didn’t last much longer, the blood disappearing and the wind subsiding, Dean’s jaw nearly dropping at the site of a man standing stark naked from where the crazy event just occurred.
Watching the man, tan in color with a mop of black hair, rippling back muscles as he stretched his arms above his head to the sky. A groan, so low it sent shivers down south, Dean questioning himself on what kind of reaction that was when he felt his dick perk up.
The small gasp from moving, the tightness in his pants rubbing along the cloth, had the man turning his head. Sharp blue eyes glued Dean to the spot, noticing the man’s lips pulling up to reveal sharp canines beneath.
“Oomph!” Dean grunted, not having seen the man move, he was suddenly knocked to the ground, those intense blue eyes staring down at him. He heard the man… purr...before leaning down to capture his lips.
His lips were soft, slightly chapped, a hand on his side of his face, ghosting along and down towards his chest.
He tried to fight, tried bringing his hands up to push the guy away, and moving his head away, but he couldn’t.
“You’re not my mate,” the man uttered, tracing his lips along Dean’s jaw and up towards his ears. “He would have been able to deflect the paralysis,” he felt teeth nibble at his ear, sending tendrils of pleasure throughout his body.
“But you...look so much like him,” he sat up, giving Dean a clear look at the man’s face. Messy black hair, pale skin with glowing blue eyes that left him speechless. “Hmm… but your body” he murmured under his breath, a pleasurable sigh escaping his lips as he began rolling his hips in a circular motion in Dean’s lap. His cock standing at full attention from the feel of Dean’s straining in its confines, taking joy in watching his eyes close in pleasure. “It remembers me,"
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to not react, his limbs frozen and unable to do a thing.
He heard a huff of dissatisfaction as the feeling of the man's uncovered ass stopping in its gyrating motion.
“But you were able to free me,” the man's voice sounded puzzled. Dean let out a muffled yelp when a cold hand touched his cheek. “The seal,” he started, Dean opened one eye to peek at the man, confused by the concerned look on his face.
He felt the other hand at his closed eye, forcing it open as he leaned close enough to where their noses barely touched. Staring straight into Dean.
“You are him, but the seal is still intact,” He leaned back, a hand on his chin. Eyes closing, as if in thought. Dean, urging any part of him to move.
A noise pierced the silence, dragging both of their attention away to the sound.
Dogs barking.
Thank god! Dean thought, recognizing the shouting of Bobby. When he looked back up, a cold chill ran down his spine at the look he was receiving.
“My love,” he whispered. “We only just began to get reacquainted,” irritation clear as he began to stand. He looked in the direction of the cavalry, waving his hand in Dean’s direction.
In a blink of an eye, Dean was upright and leaning against one of the trees as he watched the man walk across the campsite. Over to where he first appeared and...picking up the intact vase. What the hell?!
“I can’t force you to come with me,” the man started, holding the vase, looking down as he held it gently in his arm. Caressing the side with one hand in an almost loving manner. “But I can give you something to help break that seal that keeps you from me,”
Still unable to move, Dean watched as he made his way back over as he picked up Dean’s satchel that was lost during his skirmish and a cloth to cover the porcelain vase in hand. Squatting down to his height, Dean felt the item being pushed into his own arms as he leaned close to whisper something into his ear.
Trailing kisses down to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He felt him nuzzle the spot, feeling something sharp scrap the skin.
Dean cried out when he felt it puncture his skin.