Word Prompt: Kingdom
Warnings: Weechesters, hurt/comfort, can be interpreted as Weecest
"De," Sam panted out into the darkness, nightmare still clutching tightly at his shaking, sweating form.
"Yeah, Sammy?" the elder murmured, roused from his peaceful dream the panic rising from his brother.
"Can I," he let the words fall quietly, fading into the night air.
More awake, Dean ventured, "Can you what, Sammy?"
"Can I sleep with you?" the younger rushed, knowing that he should not be asking, that he should be old enough, mature enough, to sleep on his own.
But Dean did say anything about that.
"'Course, squirt," he comfortingly said, knowing that whatever woke his brother must have been painful. He lifted the edge of his blanket, beckoning his brother. Sam scampered into the open space, leaning his head against his brother's heart, feeling the steady beating, clutching his hand into Dean's night shirt.
"Want me to tell you a story?" Dean asked gently, letting the unspoken concern over his brother hang in the unusual offer.
Even without looking down at his brother, cuddled close, by the slow movement against his chest, Dean could tell what Sam needed. And so he began,
"Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a young prince, Prince Sam. This prince was the embodiment of perfection; kind, warm, sweet, and handsome. Everyone in the kingdom adored the prince, but none more so than Sir Dean, Prince Sam's valiant personal knight-in-training and closest friend. Anywhere Prince Sam would go, Sir Dean would follow, prepared to keep his younger charge safe and smiling his wide, dimpled smile."
At this, young Sam offered up a smile of his own, Dean's finger tracing over the indented cheek before him.
"But one day, Prince Sam awoke from his sweet dreams and noticed something amiss. Despite the sun being high, shining brightly upon the kingdom, Sir Dean had not yet been to his quarters to wake him. Now, this made Prince Sam quite sad; his friend always arrived right on time to rouse him from his slumber so they could greet the sunshine together. Sam missed the bright smile of his friend. So he trudged out of bed, barely glancing out the window, a frown drawn deep onto the normally smiling boy's face.
Prince Sam left his room, and walked through the halls to find Sir Dean's room where he asked the maid where his friend was. When she said she did not know, Sam's sadness became worry. He was scared that something had happened to his friend and so he ran as quickly as his legs would take him to find his father, the king of the land.
"What is wrong, my son," King John questioned his youngest.
"Father, I do not know where Dean is!" panicked Prince Sam.
"He did not come to wake you this morning?"
"No," Sam responded, tears beginning to well up in the young boy's eyes.
Just then, a knight ran into the room, bowed to the king and prince, and began to speak, "My Lord, young Dean has been kidnapped during his training this morning," solemnly finishing, glancing at the young knight's best friend when he angrily screamed out.
"Father, I will find him," Prince Sam assured, stalking toward the knight, shoulders high and back, stance courageous, yet unforgiving; his eyes hard as steel.
"No, Sam," his father voiced, "I will not allow you to risk yourself for a knight, no matter how close. You are a prince, you are more important."
Prince Sam quickly turned around, glaring at his father, "With all respect, Sir," he spit out, "I will protect my friend as he has so often done for me."
Aghast, King John sputtered, defeated, as his youngest child walked out, years older than mere moments ago.
Prince Sam listed intently to the news delivered by the knight, "It is assumed that Dean was stolen for his beyond-his-abilities," the knight said.
"Where is he?" Prince Sam demanded, brushing off the reason which had been more than obvious to the young prince.
"We cannot be sure, Sire; however, if the kidnappings of past are any indication, he will be at your father's enemy's palace."
"Then I will go to Azazle's castle and bring Dean back," Sam stated, confidence laced with each word.
Prince Sam did just that. He prepared himself with swords, a shield, and precautionary back-up, thanks to his father.
Then, they were off. The trip to the enemy castle was simple; Prince Sam easily fought off the few enemies they encountered; each drop of enemy blood fueling the fire pumping beneath pale skin and taut muscles.
Upon arriving at the castle is when the quest became more complicated.
Prince Sam wanted to rescue his friend alone.
"It would be easier this way. One person is easier to get in than an army," he argued logically.
The knights refused to allow this, knowing that both King John and Sir Dean would be angered at the possibility of the young prince being hurt.
And so, with word of his closest friend in mind, Prince Sam had no choice but to allow some of the knights to follow and aid.
Four followed him as they snuck into the castle through the entrance known to be a direct path to the dungeons, where Sir Dean would be.
They maneuvered easily through the walls and small passages, silencing the few guards they passed without trouble.
It was not until the dim glow of dungeons candles were in view that any trouble truly arose.
It seemed that one of the guards they passed had been left alive and informed his king of the intruders.
Luckily for Prince Sam, he caught sight of the familiar glinting golden necklace in the dank dungeon. Followed closely by his guards, small feet ran to the cage keeping his friend barred from him.
"Dean," Prince Sam questioned, hope choking him.
"Sammy," Sir Dean breathed, clutching his hands around his friends, feeling the warmth, relishing it.
"De, I'm here," he whispered, before the sudden clanging of metal on metal rang clear through the air.
"Get him free," called out one of Sam's knights as another clang pierced the air.
Cunningly, Sam used a metal bit that the always kept with him to unlock the cage. The moment the door had been open enough for the young knight to slip through, the Prince dropped his sword and had his arms locked tight around his friend's shoulders.
The moment; however, did not last long as a sword slashed towards them; Dean dropping them both to the ground, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of the blade.
Sir Dean picked up the dropped sword, Sam retrieving another from his store. Then, along with the accompanying guards, the boys stood back to back, each of King John's men fending against the enemies.
The young boys were sure to have the other's back. When Dean was to be hit, Sam ran forward, demolishing any and all who dared to harm his friend. When Sam was to be hurt, Dean charged, destroying those who dared to harm his charge and friend.
With much effort and bloodshed, Prince Sam, Sir Dean, and their four knights had fought valiantly to a lull in enemy forces. Knowing more would soon be approaching, the six ran through the hidden passage back to outside of Azazle's gates where they rejoined the remaining back-up team.
Hurrying, the group ran, gracefully and near silently, back toward their home; joyous, alive, and best of all, together."
A soft snore rose from Sam, cuddled deeply into the arms of his big bother as Dean's gentle, soothing words faded in the air, the comfort of the story wrapped protectively around the younger boy. The nightmares of previous forgotten as the prince's knight embraced him, the warmth of the cocoon the shield and armor; his arms, the swords.