Of Wizards and Dovah - Part 2
Title: Of Wizards and Dovah
For the DeanCasBigBang! deancasbigbang
Author: Sofiwick
Artist: kenshymidzu!
Beta: Kodamasama!
Pairings: Dean/Castiel.
Genre: AU, Adventure, Romance.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13.700 words
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Skyrim does not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: Sexy times. I changed a few things about the games mechanics and plot. I don’t believe there are any unforgivable inaccuracies, but if so, I’m sorry!
It may seem like there are dominance/submission elements, but there aren't really.
Spoilers: No spoilers for the ending of Skyrim.
Summary: Set in the world of ‘The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim’. Dean is Dovahkiin - the Dragonborn - said to be destined to kill the dragon Alduin, the World Eater. Castiel is the cute wizard Dean would very much like to have as an ally on his quest.
Art link: Art Masterlist (Contains Spoilers for the end of the story - sort of.)
Go Back to Part 1
*º*º*
On the fourth day, Dean marches into Castiel’s room as if he lives there.
"Can you fight with a sword?" Subtle, Dean, his head-Sam says. In his defense, he didn’t mean for it sound so straight-forward. After spending his morning thinking of a clever way of finding out this information after Castiel declined his invitation for a friendly spar, Dean found out Sam is definitely the clever brother.
Cas blinks at him from behind a huge spell tome. "Why would I need fighting with a sword?"
"An axe? A dagger, a bow?"
"I can conjure a sword."
"But can you wield it?"
"The only steel I need to wield is a knife to cut my meat." Cas crosses his arms. "Why would a mage need anything other than a staff?"
Dean leans on the door frame. "Skyrim is a dangerous place…"
"Yes, but in the Mage’s College everything is much the same. If a troll needs killing, a staff works just fine."
Defiant blue eyes stare right back at him this time instead of staying fixed on the floor. They look at one another, and Castiel will not break, will not reveal that he knows what’s happening here. Sam always told him one day Dean would find someone who would make him work for it.
Dean smiles and leaves his friend to his magic.
"Excuse me?" Cas calls after him. "Why did you come into my quarters, ask me queer questions about swords and then just leave?"
"You looked busy. I suddenly realized I was intruding."
"Well…" Cas walks up to him. Eyes on the floor. Again. "I can take a break. What was your point?"
"I didn’t have any," he lies. "I was just on my way to Winterhold. I want to see how my horse is faring."
"Very well," the mage says, fidgeting. "Shall I walk you to the door?"
"Would you like to go with me?"
For the first time since they met, Castiel seems fearful. "It's been an awful long time since I last visited the city."
City... Yes, Winterhold was once a powerful Hold, but the little conglomerate of houses could hardly be considered a village now, let alone a city.
What would be his reaction to Whiterun…?
"All the more reason to go."
They walk to the village, Dean afraid of the bridge, and Castiel afraid of something he won’t voice.
The weird old man sitting on the inn’s front steps greets him. "The dragon lad is back."
"I come to see my horse, sir."
His faces darkens when he see Castiel. "In the back." The mage walks closer to Dean, refusing to answer when asked if he was alright.
What passes for a stable in a city in shambles is nothing more than a destroyed house with part of the roof and some of the walls still intact. The horses have food and water, though, so he can’t exactly complain.
Cas looks fearful of the animal, so Dean takes his hand and rests it on the horse’s snout. He needs his new friend to get used to it if he wants this to work. The mage carefully pets it. "You have a good horse, Dean."
"How do you know?"
"It hasn’t tried to bite me yet."
Laughter comes out of him before Dean can even think about why he’s laughing. "You know how to ride?"
"The older mages have research in Saarthal, an ancient tomb half a day from here," he says, caressing the mane. "I visited there a few times, and the horse even went the direction I wanted… the general direction…" Dean laughs again, and this time Cas even smiles. "J’zargo insisted I needed to squeeze the horse with my knees if I wanted speed, but I was afraid to hurt it."
Dean can picture in his head the comical image of Castiel trying to talk his horse into obeying him.
"Does it have a name?"
"It’s bad luck to name a horse before you spend six moon cycles with it," Dean repeats what an old master-of-stable once told him. "I’ve only had this one for two cycles." He had been young and laughed in the man’s face, promptly naming his new horse ‘Frosty’.
In Skyrim, horses don’t stand idly by when their masters are being attacked. Frosty died for him not two months later, and it broke his heart.
Castiel’s eyes grow large. "Don’t name him yet!" he shouts, like Dean meant to put a dagger in his own horse.
No, seriously, you need to stop finding this endearing, Dean…
*º*º*
"Some mouths would have me believe you have a mind to take young Castiel from under my care," is the first thing the Arch-Mage says when Dean sits across from him.
"I have voiced no such-" Savos raises an eyebrow, and Dean remembers when they first met. Red eyes that can see through you. "I haven’t spoken with him yet. Nor told anyone, for that matter. Who told you?"
"Anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear."
Dean can feel his face growing red. Has he really been that obvious? "Cas is very talented, you see. He- he can judge the incantation on a trinket by biting it!"
"I always liked that trick of his," Savos agrees, taking a sip of mead.
"You know my quest, my burden. A wizard of his proficiency would certainly help to lighten it."
"Is that so?"
"And," Dean mumbles, looking around the room. "And he can conjure two Atronach from a distance. That is powerful magic if I’ve ever seen it."
Savos smiles behind his cup. "Is that so?"
"I’m sorry, Arch-Mage?" Dean is starting to feel nervous here. "Does this amuse you for some reason?"
"Indeed it does. Is it not customary for those searching for marriage to wear the Amulet of Mara around their necks? To make intentions known?"
He might as well have said the Emperor was outside anxious to make love to him.
"I- what?"
Savos pours more mead for them. "I saw the two of you from the bridge, slaying Ice Wraiths. Is that what passes for flirting these days? In my time there were flowers and lemon cakes-"
"No, wait-" It is not uncommon for men to marry each other and yet his brain refuses to combine ‘marriage’ and ‘Castiel’ in the same sentence. Look on the bright side, at least Ancano isn’t here. "No one said anything about marrying."
"Oh, people don’t get married in Skyrim anymore? I need to get out more often."
"Cas is a friend-"
Savos looks less amused hearing this. He pins Dean down with a disapproving stare. "Do you deny harboring feelings for him?"
Dean can feel something stuck in his throat. "You mistake intention-"
"You mistake your own intentions, young Dovahkiin." The Arch-Mage puts aside his cup, and Dean actually feels afraid of what he’s about to hear. "This is not a whore or a hired sword that will keep on walking after you’re done with them.
"This young man has known nothing but these walls his entire life. He understands nothing of Skyrim and death and war and yet you will drag him into the chaos of your life on a whim, and you dare, sir, to fake innocence of intentions, as if I am some cretin in a tavern to be fooled and stolen from."
Savos gets up so suddenly Dean’s hand immediately goes to the hilt of his sword before remembering he left it in his room.
The Arch-Mage hands him a pile of papers and one last warning before leaving, "If you take Castiel, you will respect him."
*º*º*
"Is that-"
"‘Shalidor’s Insights’, translated." Dean hands the scrolls to his friend. "These copies are mine, but I think you will appreciate them more than I did, so… you can have them."
Cas seems at a loss for words. "You’re disappointed."
"I expected a few answers, yes." He sits on the bed uninvited. Dean knows he’s welcome in this room. "Don’t know why I thought Shalidor would have them, though. He didn’t know anything about any dragons."
The mage sounds as disappointed as he feels. "Then your journey here was for naught."
"Not for naught, no." He gives the mage a meaningful look. "My brother says nothing is in vain. Sam has pretty, wise words for every situation. You’d like him."
Castiel nods politely. Eyes on the floor. Silence all around them.
You know what I’m implying! Must you make me say everything?
No, his head-Sam says, if you want something from this one, you ask. He’ll follow you, Dean, not unspoken words and wind.
He starts by saying, "I’ll kill Alduin." Yes, that’s a good start. Saying it aloud always gives him strength. "I only need to find out how. The gods favored me with Dovah Sos, the Dragon blood, yet they will not tell me how to kill him despite my prayers."
"There must be a way," Cas assures him. He takes a step forward as if to come to him, to comfort him. "The gods are not so cruel as to send Skyrim Dovahkiin only to make him helpless."
Dean isn’t so sure. "Me and Sam. For years we have been preparing for war," he slowly explains. "Every sword, all the armor, the gold. We’re getting them so we can win.
"A book or a god or someone out there knows how to kill the World Eater, and they will tell me. I’ll be ready when it happens."
Taking strength from this, Dean gets up and rests a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
"You could work with me. I never do any dungeon crawling without a partner, and a wizard with mixed powers might be just what I need."
"Is this how you recruit followers?" Cas sounds different than his usual quiet self. "You see they can cast some magic, ask if they can wield a sword, and invite them to go off with you to die?"
No, I pay them 500 gold.
"No one needs to die."
"Forgive me, but half your stories end with ‘and then they died’."
Frosty, his friend Lydia, Meeko the dog, all those sellswords whose names he barely remembers… "Sam survived."
"Sam quit," Castiel points out. "And a wise decision that was."
Dean doesn’t let this comment get to him.
"I’m not unhappy here," the mage claims. Surely he must realize how defensive he sounds, Dean hopes.
"Didn’t say you were."
"I’m content," he affirms again, as if saying the words will make them truth.
"Is ‘content’ another definition for ‘bored’?" Dean rests both hands on his friend’s shoulder and realizes he’s a bit taller than the mage. "You have no family here."
Cas looks heartbroken. And handsome too, so close like this. "Arch-Mage Savos and Master Wizard Mirabelle are like parents to me."
"And yet you call them by their honoraries."
"As a sign of respect."
"As a sign that your relationship lacks intimacy. You’re a student, and they’re professors."
The mage removes the hands that were pulling him closer. Someplace else he would go to a window, but there are no windows here, nor doors, so Castiel goes to stand in front of the bed table. "They raised me."
"And now you have grown and stand on your own."
Leaving his first friend in years is not what he wants and yet he’s afraid there isn’t much choice in the matter. If you don’t come with me, we might never see each other again…
"I could use a wizard in my quest," he tries once more. Castiel has not asked him to leave yet. "I could also use a friend, if you’d let me call you such."
Slowly he walks behind his friend and puts a cup in his hand. Cas murmurs a thank you as he sips the mead and tries to calm down.
Dean presses his lips behind Castiel’s ear. "This short time we spent together… Did you not feel something? Anything at all, for me?"
He can feel the shiver that travels the mage’s skin. "Magic is the only thing I have," is the only answer he gives.
"You can have more," he whispers, so low he almost can’t hear himself. "Come with me."
"Stay," Castiel asks in return, looking at the wall.
"No." Dean kisses him once on the place where hair meets skin. "You know I can’t."
Castiel stares into the honey wine in his cup, the fire burning in the hearth casting a faint light on the corner of a blue eye. Dean wonders if he’s even thinking about his proposal or if his mind is again wandering off to someplace distant, like Dean imagines it does every night when silent falls upon them.
"When we’re not traveling, you can come to Whiterun with me. My brother will appreciate having a wizard in the house, and we do have an extra bed."
An extra bed that had belonged to loyal Lydia, who had died fighting an outlaw when Dean had shouted for her to run.
"And what would I do in Whiterun?" Cas sounds even sadder than before. Dean thought offering him the perspective of having his own things might interest him more than the idea of going with him had.
"The extra room in my house has a door," he continues. "Wouldn't you like some more privacy?"
The mages sighs. "There is nothing I particularly want."
"Lying is unbecoming, Cas."
"I'm not lying."
"You think you're so boring, don't you?" Dean can feel the cold slipping inside his clothes. Cas is not saying yes. "You keep your eyes down and say things like, ‘Oh, I can only cast a million spells; I’m not that good’. You were made for this, Castiel. For me and my cause.
"I too know what it’s like to hold power and be shunned for it. It’s so much responsibility, isn’t it? You want to rest, yet here come the dragons or the outlaws or one war faction or another, and you have to do something. And after you do it, people don’t thank you - they become afraid of you.
"Sam tells me they have a song for the Dragonborn. You come with me, and one day they’ll have a song for you too. They’ll call you ‘Castiel of the Mage's College’ or ‘Castiel the Wizard of All Trades’…"
Cas can only blink. "... That just sounds weird."
"Yeah, you're right," Dean agrees. "We'll think of something."
*º*º*
In the end, they agree on nothing, and Dean goes back to his room empty and tired.
Tomorrow I will leave more alone than when I came, he thinks. Life had been easier when it had been just his brother and him, riding the roads and killing Draugr.
Cas is not coming, Dean tells himself so it will feel more real. Maybe if he just accepts this and mourns for what didn’t happen between them, he will cease feeling so sad sooner rather than later.
Cas is not coming, and you won’t see him again. It will be hard, at first. He’ll probably think about Cas all the way back to Whiterun. Sam will know without having to be told because he knows Dean that well. One day this year, Dean will spend the entire day without thinking of the wizard and will call it progress.
Maybe there will even be a woman, an inn worker somewhere, and she’ll make him feel better. She’ll tell him about her simple life and ask him if he’s ever been in love. Dean will say there had been a wizard once, a handsome, lonely thing, but he couldn’t remember his face anymore.
Talos, I’m a maiden in a song who just lost her knight; kill me now…
He finds this to be a lot of sorrow for someone he’s not even in love with... And Dean knows he isn’t in love because of the simple fact that romantic love is supposed to be amazing. Kings had waged wars for maidens, and most religions had not one but two goddesses of love. Many times in his childhood he had heard his mother recite the goddess Dibella’s commandment softly before sleep, "Open your heart to the noble secrets of art and love. Treasure the gifts of friendship. Seek joy and inspiration in the mysteries of love."
Dean cannot see what the mystery is. You have a boner for someone. If they like you, great; if they don’t, better luck next time.
Is that what this is? I wanted to bed him, and it didn’t happen. Is that all?
The sick feeling in his stomach tells him it isn’t. His mother used to say the more he cares about someone the deeper their actions can please him or hurt him.
If what you feel is god-awful, then your feelings for him probably run deeper than you think.
The wizard had not even tried to do anything to win his affections. He just looked at the floor and always poured wine for Dean first and told him about his childhood trying to catch little balls of light Savos sometimes created for him.
Since the second day, Dean decided to test his abilities, to see how far his courage went and how well he fared in dangerous situations. Sellswords know the risks and are willing to face the odds. A reclusive mage whose only idea of a battle was the one told in songs and books cannot say if they are ready to fight.
He wanted to be sure Cas was capable of having his back when he had to search for another Wall. He had this idea - this almost fantasy - of them riding together and fighting together and then laying together on Dean’s bed in Whiterun after a long journey.
Dean is falling asleep with the image of his friend stretching and yawning on his bed when there is a noise by the non-door.
"If I can have my own room, it’s a deal."
*º*º*
He can feel eyes watching their backs as they leave.
Let them watch. I know my ass looks great.
Dean leaves Whiterun more fulfilled than he has been in a long time, with a friend by his side and an unhappy Arch-Mage in the castle he left behind… Even his purse is lighter than before. Turns out the old man had a really mean grudge against the wizards.
"That one isn’t worth more than 1,000," Dean shouted when hearing the price he was being charged for a new horse.
"Well then, feel free to buy yourself a 1,000 gold pieces horse in Windhelm."
Dean could pay the price in a heartbeat. In fact, the moment they set foot in Windhelm, a merchant would perhaps pay thrice as much for the necklace in his backpack. Sure, Sam would be furious if he learned - and he would find out, the freak counts every last Septim they make. He could picture Sam whining, asking why he didn’t just share his horse with the wizard.
But how could he say, how could Dean ever look his brother in the eye and say that Cas had kissed his new horse on the snout and told it, "You’re mine now," and that Dean had known right away he wasn’t going to ‘be done’ with the feeling that tied his heart into a knot?
The old man waited for his reply, impatient, and Dean looked back at the stables. Cas smiled for him, that faint little smile of his, completely unaware of how much Dean was investing in him. The night before, blue eyes had risen from the floor until they met his own - they seemed alight with blue fire when Dean had said he could have his own horse.
The very first thing Dean promised him.
"I’ll have it."
Dean feels somehow responsible now. He remembers back to the first time he left his brother in Whiterun to search the world for treasure and knowledge. He came by a shaggy dog in the woods, happily wagging its tail and barking to his horse as if it trying to tell them something. Dean followed it back to a shack where he found a dead man.
The dog, Meeko - Dean found its name in the dead man’s journal - was still happy, as if saying, "Let me introduce you to my owner."
Sam’s eyes had actually been wet when he told him.
"Are you going to feel responsible for everyone, now?" He had crossed his arms in disapproval. "Maybe you want to adopt the beggars in the Reach, or the Altmer refugees fleeing the Aldmeri Dominion too?"
Of course, Sam was petting the dog like a girl immediately following that speech, so Dean chose to ignore it.
Meeko died to protect him from an Overlord after Dean had screamed his lungs out trying to make the dog run away. After that, he decided to only take with him those who could consent to face the dangers of a Dovahkiin’s life. Castiel had consented last night, when Dean explained to him in detail what they were up against.
"You might grow sore in the first week," he tells Cas with sympathy as they ride. "Riding takes some getting used to."
The mage sounds brave when he says, "I don’t mind." Dean is a bit proud. Brave Castiel, the only wizard who runs to Winterhold for the rescue, even when its people shun him. Might be that’s what the songs will call him: ‘Castiel the Brave Wizard’.
They stop by an empty cave’s entrance for the night. This part of Skyrim makes for a torturous ride for first-time travelers, what with its snow and mountainous landscape.
"These mountains are dangerous. Have your magic ready."
"My magic is a part of me. It is always ready," Castiel answers, lower than usual.
The mage has been particularly quiet since they left, and Dean suspects he has never slept with nothing but fur to cover him. He asks all sorts of questions to try and keep his friend’s mind away from the cold soil beneath them. "Do you know how to saddle a horse?", and "Do you know the differences between the different kinds of dragons?", or "Can you fire a bow?"
Castiel always answers with, "Can you teach me?" He is nothing if not a good student.
*º*º*
When Dean wakes up without familiar warmth pressed against his back, he knows something must be wrong.
"Cas?"
"Still here, Dean." In the darkness he can only just make out the shape of his friend sitting by his feet. "Just a nightmare."
The ground is hard and cold beneath him, and their fire went out sometime during the night, but at least it had ceased snowing for the moment. Their horses are asleep a few feet away in the edge of the woods. The low sound of the wind makes Dean wish that his friend would talk more often without the need of interrogation. "What about?"
"The College and Ancano."
Dean can sympathize. If he had spent years in the company of a Thalmor asshole, he too would have nightmares.
"Wanna talk about it?" He sits by his friend’s side and wraps his furs around them both. Cas turns his head to him, and their breaths mingle for a moment before the mage looks back at the snowy landscape before them.
"There was a huge closed eye floating in the Hall of Elements. Ancano was trying to make it open, and Arch-Mage Savos told him not to."
Castiel’s lips tighten in a line. Wind makes the trees dance for a moment. They can hear a wolf in the distance running over the fallen snow and going into the woods.
"And then bad shit happened?" Dean offers as a way to finish the conversation.
The mage pulls the furs - and consequently Dean - closer around him. "Yes."
This makes him uneasy. Some said that for every hundred nonsensical dreams about man-eating rabbits, there is one full of symbolic wisdom of a future to come.
Sam had said he dreamed of a serpent made of blood and fire just before the dragons came back to life. "You feel like this is no mere dream?"
Castiel doesn’t answer, nor does he have to.
Dean doesn’t want to suggest they turn back for fear his friend might actually say he wants to stay this time. "We can write him a letter once we get to Windhelm, perhaps?"
He shrugs. "We will. The Arch-Mage is already very cautious of Ancano. That’s why he keeps him so close."
Interesting. This Arch-Mage is smarter than Dean gave him credit for.
They lie down. Dean has a feeling his partner won’t be sleeping again tonight. He can’t figure out what an eye could possibly mean in the context of a dream. Maybe the truth? Is Ancano prying into something he isn’t supposed to? He decides to ask Sam once they get home.
He wonders what Savos will make of a letter about floating eyes and evil advisors. If the Thalmor operative proves himself to be a menace, Dean is glad he took Castiel away before he tried anything. Dragons they can handle any day, but Dean has learned that real danger comes in the hour of the owl, when the world is asleep and those who called themselves allies stand in darkness, waiting.
Yes, he decides. It’s a good thing Castiel is here. After all, there are no doors in the rooms of the Mage’s College.
*º*º*
On their fifth day of journey, Dean declares they are no longer going to Windhelm.
"Windhelm would just slow us down," he assures the wizard. "If we go west straight away, we’ll be in Whiterun in no time."
"If you’re sure."
Dean feels something good inside him at how his friend quickly agrees, no arguments and no questions.
Dean can always see the signs of exhaustion in a warrior too proud to voice his pains, and these signs have been showing all over Castiel for the past couple of days - from his silence to the way his back now curves forward, as if it can’t help but bend under his weight.
Our hero, ladies and gentlemen. A man too stupid to figure out that someone who spent their entire lives secluded in a castle will have problems riding throughout the day and sleeping on snow at night.
The Nightgate Inn was just a half day away if they make haste. If we work our horses to the ground, that is. Once there, he would see their horses rested and Castiel fed with meat and bread and honey nut treats. Might be the innkeeper could even name them a cave with a bear or a mountain path with a sabre cat. Nothing too hard or far, just right so they could practice their dynamic as partners for a few hours a day whilst Cas regained his strength.
Dean almost doesn’t recognize the inn when he opens its door. Once a lonely and sorrowful looking place, the large common room is now filled with merry people in different stages of drunkenness. Dean counts at least two bards playing and singing around the fire pit as 50 or 60 people dance around them.
The innkeeper himself looks flushed when he comes to greet them by the door.
"Pray forgive, lads. No more rooms left; the newlyweds and their friends took them all. They will be gone on the morrow though-"
"The gods bring you here to celebrate my marriage!" the drunken newlywed man shouts over the singing and the laughing, expelling wine everywhere as he tries to hug the newcomers. "You drink mead in my name, yes?"
Dean knows they can’t turn back, not with exhausted horses and an even more strained first-time traveler.
"That we’ll do, my friend," Dean finally shouts back, trying to sound just as excited.
An hour later, Dean has not yet figured out what the man’s name is, but every time he finishes a cup of wine he shouts, "To the newlyweds!" Castiel usually follows raising a cup of his own and downing the rest of the wine in it.
"Is this what a wedding looks like?"
"No, their wedding already took place someplace else." Dean is still sober enough to remember marriages are carried out in the goddess Mara’s name at her temple in Riften. "They’re heading home now and making merry as they do it."
This sends his mind back to Savos and his little lecture. Dean suddenly realizes how close he’s sitting to Castiel on the bench, their arms and thighs pressing together.
Maybe Cas really does deserve someone who will marry him. People all over the world become betrothed before they become intimate and many only after the actual marriage. Respect him, Savos had said. Respect as in ‘don’t put your dick where it doesn’t belong’, right, Arch-Mage?
He drinks two more cups to wash away the images that thought gave him.
Two more hours pass, and the meaning of the word ‘sober’ eludes Dean. "You see, the thing you gotta understand…The thing about-" he pauses and tries again. "The thing ‘bout dungeon crawling…"
"Why do you call it that?"
"‘Cause that’s what it is." Dean shrugs. "You don’t parade around inside a dungeon cave… place… thingy, let me tell you. You crawl in the shadows. Like a cat. A cat!"
"Cats don’t crawl," Castiel decides after careful deliberation. "They just walk slowly."
"No," Dean denies. "Cats pounce fast."
"Pouncing is not walking."
Sometime later the singing stops and silence falls. Dean pushes his friend down on the floor by a wall and lies down next to him. No danger can get to him now, Dean thinks, proud of himself.
"You never told me where you’re from," Cas accuses out of nowhere.
"Small village. I’ll tell you some other time."
"Can we visit it?"
"I’m afraid it ain’t there no more."
"We can’t say things like ‘ain’t’ no more, Dean," Sam had begged him. "We gotta learn how to speak good, or else they won’t let us see the Jarl."
And Sam had learned. By Talos, he speaks just like a little lord. Now his brother makes armor and sword for the Jarl and the Companions and them rich folks living in the Cloud District. And none of them know he only learned how to read at the age of twenty-two.
Sam was made to live in court and talk about incantations with mages and poetry with bards.
Dean was made to be Dovahkiin. Can’t even drink some ale before my tongue gets loose.
A warm hand holds his own. "I’m sorry."
"I’ve to go into them caves now," he tells Cas as it suddenly occurs to him. He tries to count the fingers of the hand he’s holding but soon learns he can’t distinguish which fingers are his and which are Cas’. "There are words on the walls, and they make me stronger."
"You make me stronger."
*º*º*
It’s past midday when all the noisy guests leave. Dean finds his friend sitting by the lake with an exhausted face and wearing the same clothes from the previous night.
"The innkeeper is cleaning the rooms, shouldn’t be long until we can have a bath and a bed." He sits by his side. "How do you feel? Really?"
"Like a dragon roasted my thighs," Castiel answers with a depressed sigh. "And crashed my head whilst he was at it."
Dean desperately tries not to think about his friend’s thighs and their sensitive, soft skin all red from the riding.
"Can you heal it?"
"Not burns, no. Might be rubbing some oil will help?" the mage asks him.
Dean desperately tries not to think of hands rubbing oil on said sensitive, soft thighs.
"I will ask the innkeeper later," Castiel decides.
Sunlight is already dying by the time they go back inside, after caring for their horses and exploring the woods around the inn. A handmaid shows them to their room and fetches a wooden tub and hot water.
Tasting an apple pie, Dean decides he likes this quiet, this dusk light, this small inn in the cold woods with Cas taking a hot bath like its not a big deal at all. He thinks of writing this in the letter he’s composing to Sam, but then his brother will have written proof of his feelings, and Dean will never survive.
He wants to write a few verses to himself about faint orange light making the water drops on Castiel’s cheek become bright and alive, though his childish handwriting would just spoil the entire endeavor.
The light fades away all too soon. Next thing he knows, they are each on their own bed, and the low sound of teeth crashing together won’t let him sleep. This can’t be good. "You cold, Cas?"
"This morning I washed the furs you gave me, and they haven't dried yet." The mage sounds like he’s in pain, and Dean is not liking this one bit.
He wants to invite the mage to his bed, though that would be presuming too much. "Why did you wash your furs?"
"I assumed we would be sleeping together," Castiel answers. Dean can see his shoulders shrug in the barely there moonlight. "Like we have been doing since we left Winterhold..."
Dean gets up and drops his heavy fur on top of the mage, climbing on the bed beside him. "I assumed you’d like your own bed."
"I don't mind sharing." Castiel rearranges himself beside him and gives what Dean believes is a content sigh. He can feel his friend’s hot breath on his neck and tries to will his body to relax.
It seems impossible with eyes staring at him in the dark. "... Go to sleep now."
"I'm trying." Cas sounds a bit guilty. He moves around a little and settles when their legs are touching. Dean thinks he smells of apple pie.
"Dean," the mage starts uncertainly, "why did you ask if I have feelings for you?"
"Because, Cas." He sighs. Of course they would have to talk about this eventually. "Because I wanted you to come with me."
"You kissed behind my ear," he tells Dean in a whisper. "I thought you were going to kiss me that night."
The blood flowing in his ears doesn’t let him hear his own voice saying, "Would you like it if I kissed you?"
"I believe so," Cas confesses, a bit out of breath. Dean can feel the body beside him shaking just slightly, and he doesn’t think it’s from the cold. "I favor you over others, even though I’ve known you for less than a fortnight."
"That’s- That’s really-" Hands that have known no labor or hardship don’t try to grab him, to force him, but tug on his sleeves weakly. It feels like an invisible force rolls him to Castiel’s side. "I-"
Love is painful. It turns his insides and squeezes his heart. It makes him babble and look a fool. And it makes him kiss Castiel tenderly on the lips as he lies down on top of him. Warm hands cup his face, and he can’t remember any reservations he had about this, about this amazing person breathing under him.
Beneath the furs, it feels like a furnace, and Cas is the fire that keeps it going. He wants to take their clothes off, but there is no room, no time. Just by letting Dean’s hands rub and squeeze and caress his body, mouth completely surrendering to whatever he desires, it’s already enough to make him burn. When he allows a pause to enjoy the sight of feverish blue eyes, Cas kisses him back clumsily; Dean takes all his kisses, for they are all for him.
Dean unlaces their breeches and waits to see if there are any objections. All he gets is hands grabbing his clothes tighter, pulling him down for more kisses and more touching.
He grabs the oil on the nightstand that Cas used for his burns and coats his hands with no finesse. He’s careful to spread as much as he can on the abused thighs - Talos, I thought of this - or else he might make them worse, before he takes him in his hands.
Castiel whimpers like a wounded animal and hides his face in the crook of his neck. Dean gives him long, satisfying strokes, but only enough to fuel his own desire to see Cas holding on to him like this. His fingers caress the red thighs again and start traveling up.
"Wha’ are you do-" Cas manages to whisper when a finger touches him so intimately.
"This is how men make love, Cas," Dean assures him, trying to comfort him with more kisses to his neck. The mage relaxes - because if Dean says this is how, then he’ll just trust him - and Dean realizes he can’t lose someone this perfect.
He does his best to make this amazing for him, the best he can do when he can’t remember his own name, whilst Cas moans lowly on his shoulder at the feeling of fingers caressing him.
Like in a dream, Dean is suddenly inside, supporting his own weight with both arms beside his lover’s head and watching as his face goes from pleased to blissed out. Dean can only move on instinct as Cas just lies there taking him, like his mind has completely shut down, and he’s trusting Dean to pleasure them both.
"Tight," he says with a gasp of his own because his lover needs to know this; he needs to know how incredible he is for Dean. "You’re so tight, Cas-"
Castiel responds by moaning louder, and that’s just about right. Long legs encircle him, changing the way they meet, and Castiel is throwing his head back and laughing in euphoria.
Dean laughs with surprise at this reaction. "There? There-" This is just how it should be. Cas should always look like this and Dean should always be the one taking his breathless kisses. He doesn’t remember it ever being this satisfying to hold someone, to make their pleasure his own.
He doesn’t mean to finish inside, but Cas won’t let him move away an inch further than he has to to give them pleasure. Dean begs him to come or else he will soon have to apologize for ending this too early, but his ever obedient lover does just as he’s told. If the sight of Castiel obeying his command to orgasm hadn’t done it for him, his insides squeezing tightly around him certainly would have.
The world is gorgeous and white and so very ‘Cas’, and then he’s back. For the first time in his life, Dean doesn’t get up and walk away. Castiel doesn’t become a sweaty, messy body; he remains a lover, someone to be cherished and taken care of.
He moves aside just enough to give him room to breathe but refuses to stop kissing his cheek as he watches the mage come back from wherever it is Dean sent him.
When Castiel opens his eyes, there is only joy and adoration looking at him, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief he didn’t notice he was holding.
"How did you do that?" Cas asks, out of breath. His voice is rougher than usual and his hands a little shaky - Dean wouldn’t have this any other way, even if now he has to explain how their love making works. Of course he doesn’t know. How could he?
"It’s magic," he decides to say to spare the moment. Maybe he will show him in the morrow, but right now Castiel actually nods seriously, and Dean has to kiss his brow again.
Their fur smells of Cas and what they just did when Dean decides. "I’ll respect you, Cas."
Now the poor guy probably thinks this is what passes for pillow talk. "I respect you too, Dean," he says pleasantly.
"You don’t understand…"
"If you don’t explain, maybe I won’t."
"The Arch-Mage said I could have you as long I respect you, so I just…" He kisses Castiel on the nose because he can. "I’m gonna respect you, Cas."
"Dean, did you drink during dinner?" Cas asks and tucks his head in the crook of his neck again, getting ready to sleep as if they did this every night.
Hearing his mage fall asleep, Dean has an epiphany, or an insight, or just wishful thinking, but he has it - they are going to win, the three of them. The gods gave him the powers, the tools, the allies, and even his reward in advance. There is just no way he can fail.
Might be they would have a new song for the Dragonborn after he defeated Alduin, and Sam the Smith and Castiel the Wizard would be in it too. Might be he could even ask a bard to write a few lines about faint orange light on his lover’s skin.
*º*º*
The cave is close to the inn, with only a few trolls inside. Castiel gives one last kiss to his unnamed horse, and Dean remembers the letter he wrote his brother when they left Winterhold.
I just have a good feeling about this one, Sam.
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"If I say run, just fucking run, okay?"
"As you say."
*º*º*
Did you guys know that in the expansion, "Hearthfire", you can actually make your own house and adopt children?
Adopt.
Children.
YES.
If only they would release this expansion for the PS3…
Anyways, I didn’t want to take the plot with the Mage’s College too far for fear of spoilers. I was also careful not to mention too many plot points from the main storyline of the game and focused more on the romance. I’m thinking of writing a sequel later on where Team Dovahkiin embarks on the main story line, if people are interested in reading it.
Thank you, Kenshymidzu, for the art! And thank you, Kodamasama, for betaing this story!
As always, please comment! It makes me unbelievably happy!
For the DeanCasBigBang! deancasbigbang
Author: Sofiwick
Artist: kenshymidzu!
Beta: Kodamasama!
Pairings: Dean/Castiel.
Genre: AU, Adventure, Romance.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13.700 words
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Skyrim does not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: Sexy times. I changed a few things about the games mechanics and plot. I don’t believe there are any unforgivable inaccuracies, but if so, I’m sorry!
It may seem like there are dominance/submission elements, but there aren't really.
Spoilers: No spoilers for the ending of Skyrim.
Summary: Set in the world of ‘The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim’. Dean is Dovahkiin - the Dragonborn - said to be destined to kill the dragon Alduin, the World Eater. Castiel is the cute wizard Dean would very much like to have as an ally on his quest.
Art link: Art Masterlist (Contains Spoilers for the end of the story - sort of.)
Go Back to Part 1
*º*º*
On the fourth day, Dean marches into Castiel’s room as if he lives there.
"Can you fight with a sword?" Subtle, Dean, his head-Sam says. In his defense, he didn’t mean for it sound so straight-forward. After spending his morning thinking of a clever way of finding out this information after Castiel declined his invitation for a friendly spar, Dean found out Sam is definitely the clever brother.
Cas blinks at him from behind a huge spell tome. "Why would I need fighting with a sword?"
"An axe? A dagger, a bow?"
"I can conjure a sword."
"But can you wield it?"
"The only steel I need to wield is a knife to cut my meat." Cas crosses his arms. "Why would a mage need anything other than a staff?"
Dean leans on the door frame. "Skyrim is a dangerous place…"
"Yes, but in the Mage’s College everything is much the same. If a troll needs killing, a staff works just fine."
Defiant blue eyes stare right back at him this time instead of staying fixed on the floor. They look at one another, and Castiel will not break, will not reveal that he knows what’s happening here. Sam always told him one day Dean would find someone who would make him work for it.
Dean smiles and leaves his friend to his magic.
"Excuse me?" Cas calls after him. "Why did you come into my quarters, ask me queer questions about swords and then just leave?"
"You looked busy. I suddenly realized I was intruding."
"Well…" Cas walks up to him. Eyes on the floor. Again. "I can take a break. What was your point?"
"I didn’t have any," he lies. "I was just on my way to Winterhold. I want to see how my horse is faring."
"Very well," the mage says, fidgeting. "Shall I walk you to the door?"
"Would you like to go with me?"
For the first time since they met, Castiel seems fearful. "It's been an awful long time since I last visited the city."
City... Yes, Winterhold was once a powerful Hold, but the little conglomerate of houses could hardly be considered a village now, let alone a city.
What would be his reaction to Whiterun…?
"All the more reason to go."
They walk to the village, Dean afraid of the bridge, and Castiel afraid of something he won’t voice.
The weird old man sitting on the inn’s front steps greets him. "The dragon lad is back."
"I come to see my horse, sir."
His faces darkens when he see Castiel. "In the back." The mage walks closer to Dean, refusing to answer when asked if he was alright.
What passes for a stable in a city in shambles is nothing more than a destroyed house with part of the roof and some of the walls still intact. The horses have food and water, though, so he can’t exactly complain.
Cas looks fearful of the animal, so Dean takes his hand and rests it on the horse’s snout. He needs his new friend to get used to it if he wants this to work. The mage carefully pets it. "You have a good horse, Dean."
"How do you know?"
"It hasn’t tried to bite me yet."
Laughter comes out of him before Dean can even think about why he’s laughing. "You know how to ride?"
"The older mages have research in Saarthal, an ancient tomb half a day from here," he says, caressing the mane. "I visited there a few times, and the horse even went the direction I wanted… the general direction…" Dean laughs again, and this time Cas even smiles. "J’zargo insisted I needed to squeeze the horse with my knees if I wanted speed, but I was afraid to hurt it."
Dean can picture in his head the comical image of Castiel trying to talk his horse into obeying him.
"Does it have a name?"
"It’s bad luck to name a horse before you spend six moon cycles with it," Dean repeats what an old master-of-stable once told him. "I’ve only had this one for two cycles." He had been young and laughed in the man’s face, promptly naming his new horse ‘Frosty’.
In Skyrim, horses don’t stand idly by when their masters are being attacked. Frosty died for him not two months later, and it broke his heart.
Castiel’s eyes grow large. "Don’t name him yet!" he shouts, like Dean meant to put a dagger in his own horse.
No, seriously, you need to stop finding this endearing, Dean…
*º*º*
"Some mouths would have me believe you have a mind to take young Castiel from under my care," is the first thing the Arch-Mage says when Dean sits across from him.
"I have voiced no such-" Savos raises an eyebrow, and Dean remembers when they first met. Red eyes that can see through you. "I haven’t spoken with him yet. Nor told anyone, for that matter. Who told you?"
"Anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear."
Dean can feel his face growing red. Has he really been that obvious? "Cas is very talented, you see. He- he can judge the incantation on a trinket by biting it!"
"I always liked that trick of his," Savos agrees, taking a sip of mead.
"You know my quest, my burden. A wizard of his proficiency would certainly help to lighten it."
"Is that so?"
"And," Dean mumbles, looking around the room. "And he can conjure two Atronach from a distance. That is powerful magic if I’ve ever seen it."
Savos smiles behind his cup. "Is that so?"
"I’m sorry, Arch-Mage?" Dean is starting to feel nervous here. "Does this amuse you for some reason?"
"Indeed it does. Is it not customary for those searching for marriage to wear the Amulet of Mara around their necks? To make intentions known?"
He might as well have said the Emperor was outside anxious to make love to him.
"I- what?"
Savos pours more mead for them. "I saw the two of you from the bridge, slaying Ice Wraiths. Is that what passes for flirting these days? In my time there were flowers and lemon cakes-"
"No, wait-" It is not uncommon for men to marry each other and yet his brain refuses to combine ‘marriage’ and ‘Castiel’ in the same sentence. Look on the bright side, at least Ancano isn’t here. "No one said anything about marrying."
"Oh, people don’t get married in Skyrim anymore? I need to get out more often."
"Cas is a friend-"
Savos looks less amused hearing this. He pins Dean down with a disapproving stare. "Do you deny harboring feelings for him?"
Dean can feel something stuck in his throat. "You mistake intention-"
"You mistake your own intentions, young Dovahkiin." The Arch-Mage puts aside his cup, and Dean actually feels afraid of what he’s about to hear. "This is not a whore or a hired sword that will keep on walking after you’re done with them.
"This young man has known nothing but these walls his entire life. He understands nothing of Skyrim and death and war and yet you will drag him into the chaos of your life on a whim, and you dare, sir, to fake innocence of intentions, as if I am some cretin in a tavern to be fooled and stolen from."
Savos gets up so suddenly Dean’s hand immediately goes to the hilt of his sword before remembering he left it in his room.
The Arch-Mage hands him a pile of papers and one last warning before leaving, "If you take Castiel, you will respect him."
*º*º*
"Is that-"
"‘Shalidor’s Insights’, translated." Dean hands the scrolls to his friend. "These copies are mine, but I think you will appreciate them more than I did, so… you can have them."
Cas seems at a loss for words. "You’re disappointed."
"I expected a few answers, yes." He sits on the bed uninvited. Dean knows he’s welcome in this room. "Don’t know why I thought Shalidor would have them, though. He didn’t know anything about any dragons."
The mage sounds as disappointed as he feels. "Then your journey here was for naught."
"Not for naught, no." He gives the mage a meaningful look. "My brother says nothing is in vain. Sam has pretty, wise words for every situation. You’d like him."
Castiel nods politely. Eyes on the floor. Silence all around them.
You know what I’m implying! Must you make me say everything?
No, his head-Sam says, if you want something from this one, you ask. He’ll follow you, Dean, not unspoken words and wind.
He starts by saying, "I’ll kill Alduin." Yes, that’s a good start. Saying it aloud always gives him strength. "I only need to find out how. The gods favored me with Dovah Sos, the Dragon blood, yet they will not tell me how to kill him despite my prayers."
"There must be a way," Cas assures him. He takes a step forward as if to come to him, to comfort him. "The gods are not so cruel as to send Skyrim Dovahkiin only to make him helpless."
Dean isn’t so sure. "Me and Sam. For years we have been preparing for war," he slowly explains. "Every sword, all the armor, the gold. We’re getting them so we can win.
"A book or a god or someone out there knows how to kill the World Eater, and they will tell me. I’ll be ready when it happens."
Taking strength from this, Dean gets up and rests a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
"You could work with me. I never do any dungeon crawling without a partner, and a wizard with mixed powers might be just what I need."
"Is this how you recruit followers?" Cas sounds different than his usual quiet self. "You see they can cast some magic, ask if they can wield a sword, and invite them to go off with you to die?"
No, I pay them 500 gold.
"No one needs to die."
"Forgive me, but half your stories end with ‘and then they died’."
Frosty, his friend Lydia, Meeko the dog, all those sellswords whose names he barely remembers… "Sam survived."
"Sam quit," Castiel points out. "And a wise decision that was."
Dean doesn’t let this comment get to him.
"I’m not unhappy here," the mage claims. Surely he must realize how defensive he sounds, Dean hopes.
"Didn’t say you were."
"I’m content," he affirms again, as if saying the words will make them truth.
"Is ‘content’ another definition for ‘bored’?" Dean rests both hands on his friend’s shoulder and realizes he’s a bit taller than the mage. "You have no family here."
Cas looks heartbroken. And handsome too, so close like this. "Arch-Mage Savos and Master Wizard Mirabelle are like parents to me."
"And yet you call them by their honoraries."
"As a sign of respect."
"As a sign that your relationship lacks intimacy. You’re a student, and they’re professors."
The mage removes the hands that were pulling him closer. Someplace else he would go to a window, but there are no windows here, nor doors, so Castiel goes to stand in front of the bed table. "They raised me."
"And now you have grown and stand on your own."
Leaving his first friend in years is not what he wants and yet he’s afraid there isn’t much choice in the matter. If you don’t come with me, we might never see each other again…
"I could use a wizard in my quest," he tries once more. Castiel has not asked him to leave yet. "I could also use a friend, if you’d let me call you such."
Slowly he walks behind his friend and puts a cup in his hand. Cas murmurs a thank you as he sips the mead and tries to calm down.
Dean presses his lips behind Castiel’s ear. "This short time we spent together… Did you not feel something? Anything at all, for me?"
He can feel the shiver that travels the mage’s skin. "Magic is the only thing I have," is the only answer he gives.
"You can have more," he whispers, so low he almost can’t hear himself. "Come with me."
"Stay," Castiel asks in return, looking at the wall.
"No." Dean kisses him once on the place where hair meets skin. "You know I can’t."
Castiel stares into the honey wine in his cup, the fire burning in the hearth casting a faint light on the corner of a blue eye. Dean wonders if he’s even thinking about his proposal or if his mind is again wandering off to someplace distant, like Dean imagines it does every night when silent falls upon them.
"When we’re not traveling, you can come to Whiterun with me. My brother will appreciate having a wizard in the house, and we do have an extra bed."
An extra bed that had belonged to loyal Lydia, who had died fighting an outlaw when Dean had shouted for her to run.
"And what would I do in Whiterun?" Cas sounds even sadder than before. Dean thought offering him the perspective of having his own things might interest him more than the idea of going with him had.
"The extra room in my house has a door," he continues. "Wouldn't you like some more privacy?"
The mages sighs. "There is nothing I particularly want."
"Lying is unbecoming, Cas."
"I'm not lying."
"You think you're so boring, don't you?" Dean can feel the cold slipping inside his clothes. Cas is not saying yes. "You keep your eyes down and say things like, ‘Oh, I can only cast a million spells; I’m not that good’. You were made for this, Castiel. For me and my cause.
"I too know what it’s like to hold power and be shunned for it. It’s so much responsibility, isn’t it? You want to rest, yet here come the dragons or the outlaws or one war faction or another, and you have to do something. And after you do it, people don’t thank you - they become afraid of you.
"Sam tells me they have a song for the Dragonborn. You come with me, and one day they’ll have a song for you too. They’ll call you ‘Castiel of the Mage's College’ or ‘Castiel the Wizard of All Trades’…"
Cas can only blink. "... That just sounds weird."
"Yeah, you're right," Dean agrees. "We'll think of something."
*º*º*
In the end, they agree on nothing, and Dean goes back to his room empty and tired.
Tomorrow I will leave more alone than when I came, he thinks. Life had been easier when it had been just his brother and him, riding the roads and killing Draugr.
Cas is not coming, Dean tells himself so it will feel more real. Maybe if he just accepts this and mourns for what didn’t happen between them, he will cease feeling so sad sooner rather than later.
Cas is not coming, and you won’t see him again. It will be hard, at first. He’ll probably think about Cas all the way back to Whiterun. Sam will know without having to be told because he knows Dean that well. One day this year, Dean will spend the entire day without thinking of the wizard and will call it progress.
Maybe there will even be a woman, an inn worker somewhere, and she’ll make him feel better. She’ll tell him about her simple life and ask him if he’s ever been in love. Dean will say there had been a wizard once, a handsome, lonely thing, but he couldn’t remember his face anymore.
Talos, I’m a maiden in a song who just lost her knight; kill me now…
He finds this to be a lot of sorrow for someone he’s not even in love with... And Dean knows he isn’t in love because of the simple fact that romantic love is supposed to be amazing. Kings had waged wars for maidens, and most religions had not one but two goddesses of love. Many times in his childhood he had heard his mother recite the goddess Dibella’s commandment softly before sleep, "Open your heart to the noble secrets of art and love. Treasure the gifts of friendship. Seek joy and inspiration in the mysteries of love."
Dean cannot see what the mystery is. You have a boner for someone. If they like you, great; if they don’t, better luck next time.
Is that what this is? I wanted to bed him, and it didn’t happen. Is that all?
The sick feeling in his stomach tells him it isn’t. His mother used to say the more he cares about someone the deeper their actions can please him or hurt him.
If what you feel is god-awful, then your feelings for him probably run deeper than you think.
The wizard had not even tried to do anything to win his affections. He just looked at the floor and always poured wine for Dean first and told him about his childhood trying to catch little balls of light Savos sometimes created for him.
Since the second day, Dean decided to test his abilities, to see how far his courage went and how well he fared in dangerous situations. Sellswords know the risks and are willing to face the odds. A reclusive mage whose only idea of a battle was the one told in songs and books cannot say if they are ready to fight.
He wanted to be sure Cas was capable of having his back when he had to search for another Wall. He had this idea - this almost fantasy - of them riding together and fighting together and then laying together on Dean’s bed in Whiterun after a long journey.
Dean is falling asleep with the image of his friend stretching and yawning on his bed when there is a noise by the non-door.
"If I can have my own room, it’s a deal."
*º*º*
He can feel eyes watching their backs as they leave.
Let them watch. I know my ass looks great.
Dean leaves Whiterun more fulfilled than he has been in a long time, with a friend by his side and an unhappy Arch-Mage in the castle he left behind… Even his purse is lighter than before. Turns out the old man had a really mean grudge against the wizards.
"That one isn’t worth more than 1,000," Dean shouted when hearing the price he was being charged for a new horse.
"Well then, feel free to buy yourself a 1,000 gold pieces horse in Windhelm."
Dean could pay the price in a heartbeat. In fact, the moment they set foot in Windhelm, a merchant would perhaps pay thrice as much for the necklace in his backpack. Sure, Sam would be furious if he learned - and he would find out, the freak counts every last Septim they make. He could picture Sam whining, asking why he didn’t just share his horse with the wizard.
But how could he say, how could Dean ever look his brother in the eye and say that Cas had kissed his new horse on the snout and told it, "You’re mine now," and that Dean had known right away he wasn’t going to ‘be done’ with the feeling that tied his heart into a knot?
The old man waited for his reply, impatient, and Dean looked back at the stables. Cas smiled for him, that faint little smile of his, completely unaware of how much Dean was investing in him. The night before, blue eyes had risen from the floor until they met his own - they seemed alight with blue fire when Dean had said he could have his own horse.
The very first thing Dean promised him.
"I’ll have it."
Dean feels somehow responsible now. He remembers back to the first time he left his brother in Whiterun to search the world for treasure and knowledge. He came by a shaggy dog in the woods, happily wagging its tail and barking to his horse as if it trying to tell them something. Dean followed it back to a shack where he found a dead man.
The dog, Meeko - Dean found its name in the dead man’s journal - was still happy, as if saying, "Let me introduce you to my owner."
Sam’s eyes had actually been wet when he told him.
"Are you going to feel responsible for everyone, now?" He had crossed his arms in disapproval. "Maybe you want to adopt the beggars in the Reach, or the Altmer refugees fleeing the Aldmeri Dominion too?"
Of course, Sam was petting the dog like a girl immediately following that speech, so Dean chose to ignore it.
Meeko died to protect him from an Overlord after Dean had screamed his lungs out trying to make the dog run away. After that, he decided to only take with him those who could consent to face the dangers of a Dovahkiin’s life. Castiel had consented last night, when Dean explained to him in detail what they were up against.
"You might grow sore in the first week," he tells Cas with sympathy as they ride. "Riding takes some getting used to."
The mage sounds brave when he says, "I don’t mind." Dean is a bit proud. Brave Castiel, the only wizard who runs to Winterhold for the rescue, even when its people shun him. Might be that’s what the songs will call him: ‘Castiel the Brave Wizard’.
They stop by an empty cave’s entrance for the night. This part of Skyrim makes for a torturous ride for first-time travelers, what with its snow and mountainous landscape.
"These mountains are dangerous. Have your magic ready."
"My magic is a part of me. It is always ready," Castiel answers, lower than usual.
The mage has been particularly quiet since they left, and Dean suspects he has never slept with nothing but fur to cover him. He asks all sorts of questions to try and keep his friend’s mind away from the cold soil beneath them. "Do you know how to saddle a horse?", and "Do you know the differences between the different kinds of dragons?", or "Can you fire a bow?"
Castiel always answers with, "Can you teach me?" He is nothing if not a good student.
*º*º*
When Dean wakes up without familiar warmth pressed against his back, he knows something must be wrong.
"Cas?"
"Still here, Dean." In the darkness he can only just make out the shape of his friend sitting by his feet. "Just a nightmare."
The ground is hard and cold beneath him, and their fire went out sometime during the night, but at least it had ceased snowing for the moment. Their horses are asleep a few feet away in the edge of the woods. The low sound of the wind makes Dean wish that his friend would talk more often without the need of interrogation. "What about?"
"The College and Ancano."
Dean can sympathize. If he had spent years in the company of a Thalmor asshole, he too would have nightmares.
"Wanna talk about it?" He sits by his friend’s side and wraps his furs around them both. Cas turns his head to him, and their breaths mingle for a moment before the mage looks back at the snowy landscape before them.
"There was a huge closed eye floating in the Hall of Elements. Ancano was trying to make it open, and Arch-Mage Savos told him not to."
Castiel’s lips tighten in a line. Wind makes the trees dance for a moment. They can hear a wolf in the distance running over the fallen snow and going into the woods.
"And then bad shit happened?" Dean offers as a way to finish the conversation.
The mage pulls the furs - and consequently Dean - closer around him. "Yes."
This makes him uneasy. Some said that for every hundred nonsensical dreams about man-eating rabbits, there is one full of symbolic wisdom of a future to come.
Sam had said he dreamed of a serpent made of blood and fire just before the dragons came back to life. "You feel like this is no mere dream?"
Castiel doesn’t answer, nor does he have to.
Dean doesn’t want to suggest they turn back for fear his friend might actually say he wants to stay this time. "We can write him a letter once we get to Windhelm, perhaps?"
He shrugs. "We will. The Arch-Mage is already very cautious of Ancano. That’s why he keeps him so close."
Interesting. This Arch-Mage is smarter than Dean gave him credit for.
They lie down. Dean has a feeling his partner won’t be sleeping again tonight. He can’t figure out what an eye could possibly mean in the context of a dream. Maybe the truth? Is Ancano prying into something he isn’t supposed to? He decides to ask Sam once they get home.
He wonders what Savos will make of a letter about floating eyes and evil advisors. If the Thalmor operative proves himself to be a menace, Dean is glad he took Castiel away before he tried anything. Dragons they can handle any day, but Dean has learned that real danger comes in the hour of the owl, when the world is asleep and those who called themselves allies stand in darkness, waiting.
Yes, he decides. It’s a good thing Castiel is here. After all, there are no doors in the rooms of the Mage’s College.
*º*º*
On their fifth day of journey, Dean declares they are no longer going to Windhelm.
"Windhelm would just slow us down," he assures the wizard. "If we go west straight away, we’ll be in Whiterun in no time."
"If you’re sure."
Dean feels something good inside him at how his friend quickly agrees, no arguments and no questions.
Dean can always see the signs of exhaustion in a warrior too proud to voice his pains, and these signs have been showing all over Castiel for the past couple of days - from his silence to the way his back now curves forward, as if it can’t help but bend under his weight.
Our hero, ladies and gentlemen. A man too stupid to figure out that someone who spent their entire lives secluded in a castle will have problems riding throughout the day and sleeping on snow at night.
The Nightgate Inn was just a half day away if they make haste. If we work our horses to the ground, that is. Once there, he would see their horses rested and Castiel fed with meat and bread and honey nut treats. Might be the innkeeper could even name them a cave with a bear or a mountain path with a sabre cat. Nothing too hard or far, just right so they could practice their dynamic as partners for a few hours a day whilst Cas regained his strength.
Dean almost doesn’t recognize the inn when he opens its door. Once a lonely and sorrowful looking place, the large common room is now filled with merry people in different stages of drunkenness. Dean counts at least two bards playing and singing around the fire pit as 50 or 60 people dance around them.
The innkeeper himself looks flushed when he comes to greet them by the door.
"Pray forgive, lads. No more rooms left; the newlyweds and their friends took them all. They will be gone on the morrow though-"
"The gods bring you here to celebrate my marriage!" the drunken newlywed man shouts over the singing and the laughing, expelling wine everywhere as he tries to hug the newcomers. "You drink mead in my name, yes?"
Dean knows they can’t turn back, not with exhausted horses and an even more strained first-time traveler.
"That we’ll do, my friend," Dean finally shouts back, trying to sound just as excited.
An hour later, Dean has not yet figured out what the man’s name is, but every time he finishes a cup of wine he shouts, "To the newlyweds!" Castiel usually follows raising a cup of his own and downing the rest of the wine in it.
"Is this what a wedding looks like?"
"No, their wedding already took place someplace else." Dean is still sober enough to remember marriages are carried out in the goddess Mara’s name at her temple in Riften. "They’re heading home now and making merry as they do it."
This sends his mind back to Savos and his little lecture. Dean suddenly realizes how close he’s sitting to Castiel on the bench, their arms and thighs pressing together.
Maybe Cas really does deserve someone who will marry him. People all over the world become betrothed before they become intimate and many only after the actual marriage. Respect him, Savos had said. Respect as in ‘don’t put your dick where it doesn’t belong’, right, Arch-Mage?
He drinks two more cups to wash away the images that thought gave him.
Two more hours pass, and the meaning of the word ‘sober’ eludes Dean. "You see, the thing you gotta understand…The thing about-" he pauses and tries again. "The thing ‘bout dungeon crawling…"
"Why do you call it that?"
"‘Cause that’s what it is." Dean shrugs. "You don’t parade around inside a dungeon cave… place… thingy, let me tell you. You crawl in the shadows. Like a cat. A cat!"
"Cats don’t crawl," Castiel decides after careful deliberation. "They just walk slowly."
"No," Dean denies. "Cats pounce fast."
"Pouncing is not walking."
Sometime later the singing stops and silence falls. Dean pushes his friend down on the floor by a wall and lies down next to him. No danger can get to him now, Dean thinks, proud of himself.
"You never told me where you’re from," Cas accuses out of nowhere.
"Small village. I’ll tell you some other time."
"Can we visit it?"
"I’m afraid it ain’t there no more."
"We can’t say things like ‘ain’t’ no more, Dean," Sam had begged him. "We gotta learn how to speak good, or else they won’t let us see the Jarl."
And Sam had learned. By Talos, he speaks just like a little lord. Now his brother makes armor and sword for the Jarl and the Companions and them rich folks living in the Cloud District. And none of them know he only learned how to read at the age of twenty-two.
Sam was made to live in court and talk about incantations with mages and poetry with bards.
Dean was made to be Dovahkiin. Can’t even drink some ale before my tongue gets loose.
A warm hand holds his own. "I’m sorry."
"I’ve to go into them caves now," he tells Cas as it suddenly occurs to him. He tries to count the fingers of the hand he’s holding but soon learns he can’t distinguish which fingers are his and which are Cas’. "There are words on the walls, and they make me stronger."
"You make me stronger."
*º*º*
It’s past midday when all the noisy guests leave. Dean finds his friend sitting by the lake with an exhausted face and wearing the same clothes from the previous night.
"The innkeeper is cleaning the rooms, shouldn’t be long until we can have a bath and a bed." He sits by his side. "How do you feel? Really?"
"Like a dragon roasted my thighs," Castiel answers with a depressed sigh. "And crashed my head whilst he was at it."
Dean desperately tries not to think about his friend’s thighs and their sensitive, soft skin all red from the riding.
"Can you heal it?"
"Not burns, no. Might be rubbing some oil will help?" the mage asks him.
Dean desperately tries not to think of hands rubbing oil on said sensitive, soft thighs.
"I will ask the innkeeper later," Castiel decides.
Sunlight is already dying by the time they go back inside, after caring for their horses and exploring the woods around the inn. A handmaid shows them to their room and fetches a wooden tub and hot water.
Tasting an apple pie, Dean decides he likes this quiet, this dusk light, this small inn in the cold woods with Cas taking a hot bath like its not a big deal at all. He thinks of writing this in the letter he’s composing to Sam, but then his brother will have written proof of his feelings, and Dean will never survive.
He wants to write a few verses to himself about faint orange light making the water drops on Castiel’s cheek become bright and alive, though his childish handwriting would just spoil the entire endeavor.
The light fades away all too soon. Next thing he knows, they are each on their own bed, and the low sound of teeth crashing together won’t let him sleep. This can’t be good. "You cold, Cas?"
"This morning I washed the furs you gave me, and they haven't dried yet." The mage sounds like he’s in pain, and Dean is not liking this one bit.
He wants to invite the mage to his bed, though that would be presuming too much. "Why did you wash your furs?"
"I assumed we would be sleeping together," Castiel answers. Dean can see his shoulders shrug in the barely there moonlight. "Like we have been doing since we left Winterhold..."
Dean gets up and drops his heavy fur on top of the mage, climbing on the bed beside him. "I assumed you’d like your own bed."
"I don't mind sharing." Castiel rearranges himself beside him and gives what Dean believes is a content sigh. He can feel his friend’s hot breath on his neck and tries to will his body to relax.
It seems impossible with eyes staring at him in the dark. "... Go to sleep now."
"I'm trying." Cas sounds a bit guilty. He moves around a little and settles when their legs are touching. Dean thinks he smells of apple pie.
"Dean," the mage starts uncertainly, "why did you ask if I have feelings for you?"
"Because, Cas." He sighs. Of course they would have to talk about this eventually. "Because I wanted you to come with me."
"You kissed behind my ear," he tells Dean in a whisper. "I thought you were going to kiss me that night."
The blood flowing in his ears doesn’t let him hear his own voice saying, "Would you like it if I kissed you?"
"I believe so," Cas confesses, a bit out of breath. Dean can feel the body beside him shaking just slightly, and he doesn’t think it’s from the cold. "I favor you over others, even though I’ve known you for less than a fortnight."
"That’s- That’s really-" Hands that have known no labor or hardship don’t try to grab him, to force him, but tug on his sleeves weakly. It feels like an invisible force rolls him to Castiel’s side. "I-"
Love is painful. It turns his insides and squeezes his heart. It makes him babble and look a fool. And it makes him kiss Castiel tenderly on the lips as he lies down on top of him. Warm hands cup his face, and he can’t remember any reservations he had about this, about this amazing person breathing under him.
Beneath the furs, it feels like a furnace, and Cas is the fire that keeps it going. He wants to take their clothes off, but there is no room, no time. Just by letting Dean’s hands rub and squeeze and caress his body, mouth completely surrendering to whatever he desires, it’s already enough to make him burn. When he allows a pause to enjoy the sight of feverish blue eyes, Cas kisses him back clumsily; Dean takes all his kisses, for they are all for him.
Dean unlaces their breeches and waits to see if there are any objections. All he gets is hands grabbing his clothes tighter, pulling him down for more kisses and more touching.
He grabs the oil on the nightstand that Cas used for his burns and coats his hands with no finesse. He’s careful to spread as much as he can on the abused thighs - Talos, I thought of this - or else he might make them worse, before he takes him in his hands.
Castiel whimpers like a wounded animal and hides his face in the crook of his neck. Dean gives him long, satisfying strokes, but only enough to fuel his own desire to see Cas holding on to him like this. His fingers caress the red thighs again and start traveling up.
"Wha’ are you do-" Cas manages to whisper when a finger touches him so intimately.
"This is how men make love, Cas," Dean assures him, trying to comfort him with more kisses to his neck. The mage relaxes - because if Dean says this is how, then he’ll just trust him - and Dean realizes he can’t lose someone this perfect.
He does his best to make this amazing for him, the best he can do when he can’t remember his own name, whilst Cas moans lowly on his shoulder at the feeling of fingers caressing him.
Like in a dream, Dean is suddenly inside, supporting his own weight with both arms beside his lover’s head and watching as his face goes from pleased to blissed out. Dean can only move on instinct as Cas just lies there taking him, like his mind has completely shut down, and he’s trusting Dean to pleasure them both.
"Tight," he says with a gasp of his own because his lover needs to know this; he needs to know how incredible he is for Dean. "You’re so tight, Cas-"
Castiel responds by moaning louder, and that’s just about right. Long legs encircle him, changing the way they meet, and Castiel is throwing his head back and laughing in euphoria.
Dean laughs with surprise at this reaction. "There? There-" This is just how it should be. Cas should always look like this and Dean should always be the one taking his breathless kisses. He doesn’t remember it ever being this satisfying to hold someone, to make their pleasure his own.
He doesn’t mean to finish inside, but Cas won’t let him move away an inch further than he has to to give them pleasure. Dean begs him to come or else he will soon have to apologize for ending this too early, but his ever obedient lover does just as he’s told. If the sight of Castiel obeying his command to orgasm hadn’t done it for him, his insides squeezing tightly around him certainly would have.
The world is gorgeous and white and so very ‘Cas’, and then he’s back. For the first time in his life, Dean doesn’t get up and walk away. Castiel doesn’t become a sweaty, messy body; he remains a lover, someone to be cherished and taken care of.
He moves aside just enough to give him room to breathe but refuses to stop kissing his cheek as he watches the mage come back from wherever it is Dean sent him.
When Castiel opens his eyes, there is only joy and adoration looking at him, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief he didn’t notice he was holding.
"How did you do that?" Cas asks, out of breath. His voice is rougher than usual and his hands a little shaky - Dean wouldn’t have this any other way, even if now he has to explain how their love making works. Of course he doesn’t know. How could he?
"It’s magic," he decides to say to spare the moment. Maybe he will show him in the morrow, but right now Castiel actually nods seriously, and Dean has to kiss his brow again.
Their fur smells of Cas and what they just did when Dean decides. "I’ll respect you, Cas."
Now the poor guy probably thinks this is what passes for pillow talk. "I respect you too, Dean," he says pleasantly.
"You don’t understand…"
"If you don’t explain, maybe I won’t."
"The Arch-Mage said I could have you as long I respect you, so I just…" He kisses Castiel on the nose because he can. "I’m gonna respect you, Cas."
"Dean, did you drink during dinner?" Cas asks and tucks his head in the crook of his neck again, getting ready to sleep as if they did this every night.
Hearing his mage fall asleep, Dean has an epiphany, or an insight, or just wishful thinking, but he has it - they are going to win, the three of them. The gods gave him the powers, the tools, the allies, and even his reward in advance. There is just no way he can fail.
Might be they would have a new song for the Dragonborn after he defeated Alduin, and Sam the Smith and Castiel the Wizard would be in it too. Might be he could even ask a bard to write a few lines about faint orange light on his lover’s skin.
*º*º*
The cave is close to the inn, with only a few trolls inside. Castiel gives one last kiss to his unnamed horse, and Dean remembers the letter he wrote his brother when they left Winterhold.
I just have a good feeling about this one, Sam.
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"If I say run, just fucking run, okay?"
"As you say."
*º*º*
Did you guys know that in the expansion, "Hearthfire", you can actually make your own house and adopt children?
Adopt.
Children.
YES.
If only they would release this expansion for the PS3…
Anyways, I didn’t want to take the plot with the Mage’s College too far for fear of spoilers. I was also careful not to mention too many plot points from the main storyline of the game and focused more on the romance. I’m thinking of writing a sequel later on where Team Dovahkiin embarks on the main story line, if people are interested in reading it.
Thank you, Kenshymidzu, for the art! And thank you, Kodamasama, for betaing this story!
As always, please comment! It makes me unbelievably happy!