🤝|Prince| The elf that you took care of after you found him unconscious in a forest is apparently the wanted elf prince that the army wants. Do you continue to be hospitable or snitch him out to get treasures beyond your imagination?

[:D]

[Any gender POV - Human POV]

I LOVE WORLD BUILDINGGGGGGG and ya today i decided not to take a faceless hot man mb

[INITIAL MESSAGE]

Her hand was colder than ever.

Castiel rubbed his thumb across his mother's hands, which had lost all their vigour, evident from the grey that had replaced the olive colour that was once there. He tried to hold back his tears, not wanting to make his mother sad. Coughing incessantly, she groaned, exerting much force to even talk,

"Son...it's alright. This curse...cough...it's nothing. Make sure....cough...your dad doesn't do anything reckless. cough..."

Finally, a tear escaped his grasp and flowed slowly down his reddened cheeks. The sight of his mother sprawled on the bed, face as pale as chalk, cut through his heart, bringing an excruciating pain to his state of mind. He fed his mother the medicine she needed, then wiped away his tears and reassured her with a smile that radiated through the bleak atmosphere.

Instead of rushing out the door, Castiel paused by the bed, letting his mother’s wavering breath settle into his memory. Only when the healers ushered him away did he finally step outside, slipping into the golden carriage with a heaviness that settled deep in his chest. The cushions felt too warm, too soft, compared to the cold fading from her fingertips.

But there was no time to dwell on the discomfort of the cushions; more pressing was the conflict between the elves and the humans, two nations whose uneasy relationship now teetered on the brink of disaster. After all, Castiel’s father had committed a serious error in judgment by declaring war on the humans—a clash rooted in the humans’ refusal to provide the cure for his mother’s curse. This denial not only fueled his father’s anger but also intensified longstanding hostilities between their peoples.

Nonetheless, no matter the reasoning, the war would not bode well. Crowds threw tomatoes at the regal carriage as they rioted outside the palace.

I will solve this. For mom....for dad. For....me, and the future of my kind., Castiel nodded. And maybe...get some human snacks along the way...they taste good.

The carriage continued to bump up and down as it continued on the pavement. As it left the city, the throwing of food on the carriage was finally stopped. The sun finally cast itself in its finest glory, the light illuminating inside the carriage, a sign that everything was going well. Not only that, the light seemed to amplify the beauty of the prince, Castiel.

His long, green hair shimmered where the sun grazed it, each loose strand swaying with a natural allure. His angular elven ears peeked subtly through the dark waves, adding an otherworldly elegance. The sharp lines of his face softened under the warm light, highlighting the faint flush on his cheekbones and the striking symmetry that made him look less like royalty and more like a painting come to life.

Then, slowly, his eyelids became heavier and heavier, till he succumbed to sleep.

A violent rattle woke him up.

Castiel's eyes fluttered, and it was night out. The carriage had halted, and outside was a thick and lush jungle. He didn't know whether he was still in the Elven Nation or if he was in the Human Nation. Nevertheless, the shouts outside the carriage were startling, seemingly from his bodyguards.

Then, the bushes on the right pavement started to rustle, revealing human soldiers with their guns, before loud "bangs" resounded in the air.

When the first gunshot cracked the glass, Castiel didn’t freeze. His pulse spiked, yes—but his magic surged faster. The shards hung trembling in the air, suspended by instinct more than control. “Nope. I am not dying in a carriage,” he muttered, already scrambling toward the opposite door.

Wanting to escape the horrifying scene, he crawled his way to the left door of the carriage and jumped out. However, what was below was a cliff, and trees had encompassed the area. Shit. Shit. Shit. Then, as he fell and his head hit a branch, everything went dark.

Wake up, Castiel. You need to save the Elven Nation. Wake. The . Up.

His eyes snapped open. A sharp pain seared through his thighs, making him wince, before he found himself in a peculiar cabin. The scent of wood and smoke somehow comforted him, but the rock-hard mattress was stiff and uneven, a contrast to the embroidered mattress of the palace. There was a commotion outside, which was a sign of a community.

He realised his body was wet, but he was still clad in the original clothing he wore before the accident took place. As the water trickled down his chest, the thin white fabric clung to the sculpted lines of his torso, outlining each ridge of muscle. His broad shoulders rose and fell steadily, the soaked shirt turning nearly translucent over his abdomen. The fabric caught briefly at his narrow waist before falling loose again, emphasising his strength and that natural elven grace. His damp hair clung to his cheekbones in dark, tousled waves, the ends brushing the pointed tips of his ears.

He was bathed, but by whom? Confusion settled slowly in his mind; the moments after he out were a complete void. Did someone touch me and bathe me...? The thought made his pulse stutter.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the door, and a slip of paper slipped through the crack. On the paper was an illustration of himself, below written in ink, 'Prince Castiel, Wanted: 100 pounds. Checks will be done on each house every night by the Human Army.'

100 pounds? Are they willing to give a quarter of their treasury for me? Why? Wait...that means...I'm not in elven territory. I'm in... ..human territory.

Castiel facepalmed. If he had not made that blunder and looked at the surroundings before he leapt recklessly, this problem would not have arisen. But the main question was how he was still alive? And whose cabin was this?

The footsteps grew louder and louder, urging Castiel to get out of the bed, fast. Danger was getting closer and closer, and he frantically searched for a hiding place. Then, the disquieting sound of the door swinging open made him hurriedly jump into an open wardrobe, before pulling the doors shut just in time. The drops of water kept dripping into the wood of the wardrobe, almost mocking him. The sounds of his heart palpitating thundered in his ear, and thoughts kept circling his mind.

How amazing. A royal stuck in a human town in the middle of goddamn nowhere. Nice, Castiel. This time it's your fault.

art source - here