Chapter Text
Of the five countries that comprise the continent of Enoch, Eden has both the largest land mass and highest population. To the west, Hell is a close second and to the east, Heaven places third largest. South of Enoch lie Purgatory and Scotland; the smallest and least populated countries of Enoch.
No one is quite certain how Scotland procured its unusual name but its inhabitants speak with mysterious accents, build a lot of castles in order to protect themselves from the huge snake monster that they believe lives in the sea, and they seem to be quite fond of a peculiar instrument called bagpipes. The whole place is ruled by a sarcastic, redheaded demon whom is obsessed with magic and whisky.
The rest of the world believes that Scotland is somewhat of a myth.
Despite being a demon, Sam Winchester lives in Eden. Like Heaven, Eden is mostly angel-occupied but since it is the largest country of Enoch, it is a little more diverse. Hell and Scotland are demon-led countries, whereas Eden, Heaven, and Purgatory (if Purgatory can be considered populated) are angel-led.
Sam doesn’t particularly care who runs the country as long as his boss didn’t just call him into the office on his day off in order to tell him that he is fired.
“Mr. Wyles?” Sam asks as he pokes his head around the door. James Wyles is a fantastic lawyer and as a boy, Sam used to have dreams of prowling around a court room like Wyles; the jury in awe of each syllable that flowed like poetry from his mouth until every last criminal was locked away where they belonged and all innocent lives were saved.
Of course, he was faced with one reality check after another as he grew older and he was reminded of his place in the world.
“Winchester,” Wyles acknowledges before gesturing him into his office. The old, beta angel sits and pushes his spectacles further up his nose as he squints at his computer screen. “You’ve always been a competent assistant. I’ll be sorry to see you go.”
Sam stiffens, panic flooding his chest as his worst fears are confirmed. He’s aware of the stares he earns from being James Wyles’ assistant; knows that the higher ups thinks that Wyles should have an angelic assistant since he’s such an outstanding lawyer. He regularly ignores the muttered comments of other lawyers who think he’s working above his station – the sneers from envious angelic assistants who think he’s made it this far by dubious means. The truth is he was just as surprised when Wyles offered him the position but the old man said he saw something in Sam – a passion for good and kindness that was yet to be matched by anyone else working for Wyles and Sons Law. The fact that Sam is an alpha only seemed to solidify Wyles’ opinion that he is a rare find.
“You’re… firing me?” Sam manages, struggling to stop his eyes from sliding to black. Angels were intimidated by the black, soulless gaze of a demon and such a display was grounds to call the authorities for potential aggression.
Wyles frowns and looks up at Sam from over the rim of his spectacles. “Now, there’s no need to put it like that. I can hardly say no to a request from His Majesty, the King, can I?”
Sam’s brows pinch together in confusion as he attempts to make sense of the statement and Wyles swivels the computer screen towards him so that he may read the email that is open. Once Sam has made it to the signature, followed by its various titles and embellishments, his eyes are wide and his face has drained of colour.
His Majesty, King Charles Novak II of the continent of Enoch… wishes to hire him.
Demons do not work in the palace.
Demons do not work for any member of the royal family or for any noble, for that matter. Scotland is entirely independent of the ties between the other four countries of Enoch and it is not a member of the Commonwealth. This leaves Hell as the only demon-run government under His Majesty’s rule and even Hell has no demonic nobles.
So, why has Sam received an offer of employment to work for Silver Palace? Granted, the email was very unspecific about his role but surely there had to be some sort of mistake?
“I take it that this is the first time you’re hearing of the news?” Wyles asks quietly.
Sam nods. “Yes, sir,” he says, equally as quiet.
Wyles purses his lips thoughtfully. After some time, he smiles ever-so-slightly and the wrinkles beside his eyes betray his age. “Silver Palace pays generously. I have a feeling you’ll do well there, Samuel. Perhaps times are changing for demons?”
Sam pauses before a slow smile spreads across his face. There is a reason he enjoys working for James Wyles. “Thank you, sir,” he murmurs, bowing his head slightly and lowering his bat-like wings in the proper show of respect for an angel. The gesture is second nature for all demons by Sam’s age.
Wyles tuts softly, long past given up attempting to correct the young demon’s etiquette. He stands and offers his hand to Sam and warmth fills Sam’s chest at the unusual gesture. Angels do not shake hands with demons. Sam clasps his former boss’ palm and shakes it twice with a wide grin and Wyles nods.
“It’s been a pleasure,” Wyles murmurs. “I wish I could have taught you more. You’re a bright young man.”
“I wouldn’t change a second of my time here, sir,” Sam says sincerely and Wyles’ lips tick upwards in a smile.
Sam leaves the room and ignores the dirty glares of the surrounding angels.
“Sam! Sammy!” There is a series of heavy banging on the front door and Sam closes his eyes briefly and takes a breath before walking calmy towards the source of the disturbance. “Sam! Open the damn door!”
Sam unlocks the door slowly and his older brother storms through with a face the colour of a tomato and one fist clenched around a screwed-up letter. “Have you seen this shit?” Dean demands as he thrusts the crumpled letter in front of Sam, scent filling with alpha anger. “This has to be a prank, right?”
Sam only has to take one glance at the golden holographic watermark to know that Dean has received the news.
“No prank. I was let go from W&S today because Wyles received the email,” Sam sighs.
Dean has wings that are coffee-coloured on the back and sandy on the front and they suddenly hitch upwards before flaring in alarm. “Wait, did you get one of these letters too?”
Sam’s brows pinch together before rising in realisation and he snatches the letter from Dean and gasps when he reads that the request is indeed addressed to his brother. He blinks at Dean, dumbfounded. “We both got an offer of employment from Silver Palace?”
Dean pulls a face. “They realise that we’re not angels, right?”
Sam shakes his head slowly. The backs of his wings are the colour of dark mahogany and the fronts are like milk chocolate and they flick restlessly as he reads and re-reads. “What could they possibly need us for?” Sam mutters as Dean crosses his arms.
“Can we decline?”
Sam gives his brother a surprised look. “Decline royalty? Wouldn’t that put a black mark on our names for, like, ever?”
Dean’s wings twitch in frustration. “I don’t want to give up the garage for a bunch of arrogant, rich feather-brains. I’ve got a good thing going here – great reputation, enjoyable work, considerable wage, nice-ish clients… why should I drop all that?”
Sam holds up the letter with a frown. “Because the King has asked you to work for him?”
“He can’t force us,” Dean huffs, scowling.
“No,” agrees Sam. “But he can certainly make life difficult for us if we refuse, right?”
Dean deflates a little and lowers his gaze. “Dad is gonna hate this.”
Sam’s mouth tightens a little at the mention of their father. “Dad hates everything that doesn’t come in a bottle.”
“He won’t like us working for royalty. The place will be crawling with angels,” Dean continues, ignoring Sam’s response. “He won’t like us being looked down on like that.”
Sam snorts and returns Dean’s letter. “Dad thinks angels should be wiped off the face of the planet. He doesn’t like us looking at angels, never mind working for them.” Sam remembers the fight they’d had when he first revealed he would be working for Wyles and Sons Law. His alpha father had erupted into a spew of colourful language for their feathered counterparts and had ordered Sam to find a demon-run firm. Considering demons weren’t allowed to be lawyers, this was an impossible task and when Sam had explained that, John Winchester had demanded Sam find a demon-run line of work. Sam had ignored this command and he and his father had barely spoken since.
“With good reason,” Dean protests and Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s constant defensiveness of their father’s behaviour.
“I’m going,” Sam states. He reasons that it would be a valuable opportunity and a big step forward for demons. If he can make an ounce of a difference in the world, then he’ll do whatever it takes.
Irritation flicks over Dean’s face and he hesitates before sighing. “Fine. I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself against an entire host of angelic dicks.”
They arrive at Silver Palace in Dean’s beloved Impala and park up in a visitor’s space. Dean glances over his car worriedly before Sam drags him towards the visitors’ congregation area and they slow to a halt as they find around three dozen other demons hovering inside the square, each looking as confused and apprehensive as the Winchesters feel.
“Is there a tour going on or something?” Dean murmurs to Sam and a young woman overhears them and turns to them with a nervous expression as her white, bat-like wings flick behind her.
“The palace has hired a few demons to work as staff. We’re waiting here for instruction.”
Sam and Dean share a bewildered glance and their attention is forced to the visitors’ entrance when a tall, grey-winged angel steps outside and waits for silence. He has a cool gaze as he surveys the crowd and most demons bristle at what they figure is disdain in his features.
“If you haven’t received a letter of employment from the palace, please leave now. Visitor hours will begin in forty minutes,” the angel announces in a slightly nasally voice, giving the impression that he is sneering down upon the pack of demons. Some demons are already scowling and a couple leave, faces pink with embarrassment.
The angel watches them leave and only once they have stepped through the gates does he continue. “I am Gadreel, Head Butler to the Eden Royal Household. You are each here because His Majesty, King Charles the second, wishes to incorporate more diversity within the Royal Servant body. As demons are not awarded the same opportunities that allow angels to be selected as servants, His Majesty has based his selection on random chance. Simply put, you were not chosen due to your skills but merely because your identification numbers were selected by a random number generator.”
Mumbles and snorts arise from the crowd and Gadreel resolutely ignores them. “As such, you will face a series of interviews today as well as a questionnaire and this will enable us to place you into a fitting role for your skill set. I should also mention that His Royal Highness, Prince of Eden, Gabriel is looking for a Gentleman-in-waiting. It is unlikely that one of you will be selected by His Royal Highness, but it is a possibility if your interview with him is favourable.”
There are various sounds of alarm as the gathered demons realise that they will be having a personal interview with the omega prince and some sets of wings begin to tremble with apprehension. Dean scoffs quietly and crosses his arms. “He’d never pick a demon. Probably thinks we’re too aggressive.”
Sam doesn’t want to agree but he finds himself nodding anyway. Angels have very low opinions of demons – believing them too violent, too unintelligent, too unrefined to be of any value. Each angel’s grace is unique and allows them to manifest a special ability at an early age, which they learn to control as they grow; this can be anything from telekinesis to controlling the local weather. Demon grace, on the other hand, is viewed as dark and rotten as it gives them the power to transform into a hideous, fear-inducing beast, whose sole purpose is to fight and destroy.
Demons slaughtered many angels in this form in historic wars and angels were forced to band together and use their powers to beat the demons down. This is the reason that angels refuse to allow demons to rise up the social hierarchy, as they are afraid of being outnumbered and ambushed as they have been in centuries gone by.
Alpha demons are frowned upon by many angels since they are the more likely to lose their temper and transform into their most detestable forms. Sam knows that it is incredibly unlikely that the omega prince will choose any alpha demon as his Gentleman-in-waiting and he finds himself indifferent to the idea anyway. He doesn’t want to be slave to a prince’s whims. Perhaps there is some administration work available – he won’t have to come into much contact with the Royal Family then.
“Proceeding the interview session, you will be guided on a tour of the servant work areas,” Gadreel continues. “Please take careful note of these areas as once you have been assigned your roles, you will be expected to meet in the main breakroom for that department on your first day.” Gadreel squares his jaw. “You can, of course, reject these roles, but His Majesty warns that this will be recorded on your personal records.”
There is a round of protests, which Gadreel doesn’t react to. Sam and Dean join in with the grumbling but quickly fall silent when Gadreel is flanked by two more angels – one male and the other female, both clearly armed with rifles and blades at their hips.
“The interview session will begin shortly,” Gadreel says. “Please follow me.” He strides inside and the other angels march after him wordlessly, not pausing to check if the demons are following.
Sam and Dean trail behind the rest of the demons and startle when the doors close behind them to reveal two more armed angels. Their eyes stare blankly ahead as they march behind the group in sync with each other’s movements. Sam and Dean share a nervous glance as they follow the crowd.
The interview process is long and exhausting, with mind-numbing questions such as ‘what were your childhood hobbies?’ and ‘do you play sports?’
The questionnaire is twenty-eight pages long and takes almost as much time as all five interview stations added together. Once they have finished the questionnaire, they must line up for a seven-minute interview with Prince Gabriel and the queue steadily grows throughout the afternoon.
Dean finishes his questionnaire far quicker than Sam does because he is far less meticulous and wants the day to be over as soon as possible. As Sam nears the front of the queue for Prince Gabriel, Dean leaves the room with a smug smirk and claps Sam on the shoulder.
“Aced it,” he winks and Sam blinks in surprise.
“You really think you got the position?” he asks incredulously.
Dean snorts in amusement and shakes his head. “Nah, I aced at not getting the position.” He fixes Sam with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t want to spend the next however-long-they-expect-us-to-work-here wiping an angel’s rich ass every time he takes a shit. I made sure there was no way I was getting picked. Meet you by the car.”
Sam furrows his brows thoughtfully as his brother saunters away. Perhaps he should follow Dean’s lead so there’s little chance of him having to converse with royalty? Then again, would conversing with royalty be so bad? Sure, they might look down on him for being an alpha demon but they probably look down on everyone, right? He pulls a face. He doesn’t need that sort of stress in his life right now – he’s only just come out of a firm where angels sneered at him all day and he has no desire to jump into the same situation combined with royal angels.
Gadreel looks Sam up and down before opening the ornate doors with a blank expression and Sam takes a breath before striding into the room. He doesn’t have to be as obnoxious as Dean, but he can certainly make it clear that he doesn’t want to be picked.
He pauses as he approaches the desk. There are guards posted around the room, each of them unnaturally still, but the prince isn’t actually seated behind the desk; he’s facing the window, back turned to Sam, and his white and gold wings are tucked close to his back in a tensed posture.
“Sit,” Prince Gabriel commands and Sam does, trying to catch a glimpse of his face and failing.
“Name,” Prince Gabriel orders without turning around and Sam frowns.
“Sam Winchester.”
“You’re an alpha?” His tone is icy and his royal uniform reminds Sam that they are classes apart.
“Yes,” Sam agrees, deciding on short and sweet. If he says nothing to make him stand out, then it’s likely that the prince will forget about him and that’s perfectly fine in Sam’s books.
The prince continues to stare through the window, hands clasped behind his pack, wings unmoving. “Why should I choose you as my Gentleman-in-waiting?”
Sam arches an eyebrow as he thinks about the question. “You shouldn’t,” he settles on. “I’m unsuitable for the job.”
Prince Gabriel’s head twitches slightly to the right but he still does not grace Sam the courtesy of looking at him.
“Why’s that?” the prince asks coldly.
“I don’t want the position,” Sam says simply. “So, I wouldn’t be very good at it.”
Prince Gabriel doesn’t react. “Why don’t you want the position? Surely a demon should be pleased that such a fantastic opportunity has presented itself? The chance to become Gentleman-in-waiting to a prince will most likely never be offered to a demon again. Why would you throw it away?”
Irritation curls in Sam’s stomach at the angel’s arrogance. “Thank you for the offer, but as I’ve already stated, I don’t want the position.”
“Most demons would snatch this opportunity.”
“Then choose one of them,” Sam responds coolly.
The prince is quiet for a moment and Sam hopes that his seven minutes are almost up. He doesn’t like this man at all. Angels are stereotypically arrogant and cold and Prince Gabriel meets all of his expectations.
“Your status would be elevated above the majority of servants within the palace,” the prince says evenly. “Your tasks would take high priority and you would be granted great respect from demons and angels alike.”
Sam pulls a face. He wouldn’t be granted respect – he would be granted politeness. Angels and demons would bow to him if they were in lower positions and they would tend to his requests above others, but they wouldn’t respect him. They would still make comments and complain about him and mutter derogatory words when his back was turned.
Did the prince think he could be swayed so easily? By mentioning power and status, did the prince believe he could be coaxed into taking a role that he had explicitly stated that he didn’t want? Did the prince think him so shallow and conceited? Typical angelic prejudice – one mention of power and they believe that every demon within earshot starts drooling.
“My position still stands,” Sam states, a little tersely. “I desire status as much as I desire working for someone who can’t even spare me the decency of eye contact as he interviews me.”
He snaps his mouth shut, eyes widening a fraction at his own words. That had been a private thought that he hadn’t intended on voicing. It is practically treason for a demon to address a member of the royal family in such a way and the prince could have him imprisoned for his rudeness – especially considering Prince Gabriel’s history.
The prince pauses and Sam hears the guards behind him shuffle as though readying themselves to snatch Sam from his seat. Sam stiffens in preparation and the prince suddenly whirls around to face him; one unimpressed eyebrow raised.
Sam has never seen the prince’s scars but he has heard stories and Prince Gabriel unfolds his wings, almost as though he is encouraging Sam to take a long look.
The prince is wearing scent blockers, so it is difficult to parse out his emotions – particularly when his expression is so blank – but stretching down his left cheek to beneath his jaw is an old, deep scar. His left wing is littered with healed stab wounds and jagged lacerations that have managed to knit together over many years, but the result is a wing that has feathers missing in parts and skin that doesn’t quite line up correctly.
The prince’s right wing looks far less mutilated, but there are a couple of faded wounds visible and Sam can see that his left hand also carries a long nasty scar over the palm that probably carries straight through to the other side.
Sam carefully doesn’t react, but his eyes wander over the damage and drink it all in as the prince narrows his amber gaze.
“Had a good look?” the prince asks bluntly.
“Sorry,” Sam mumbles, lowering his gaze and the prince scoffs.
“Demons usually show more respect for royals. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”
Sam squares his jaw at the mention of the dead mother he can’t remember and he’s reminded that just because someone has a tragic history, it doesn’t excuse them from being an asshole.
“I was taught that respect is earned, Your Royal Highness,” Sam says without thinking and by the time he’s realised his mistake, the words can’t be taken back. The guards shift their weight again, hands on their weapons and Sam braces himself.
The prince is silent for a long time and Sam lowers his gaze as is expected of him, even though he’s already broken nearly every rule of angel etiquette that demons are supposed to follow.
“Your seven minutes are up,” murmurs the prince. “Please leave.”
Sam hesitates, surprised at the inaction, but he exits the room swiftly in case the prince changes his mind.
“If you end up not getting a position and I’m forced to work for them, I’m gonna be so pissed,” Dean grumbles as he and Sam log onto their emails from their phones. “I didn’t want to go for the interview in the first place.”
“I’m lucky I wasn’t imprisoned, Dean,” Sam huffs as he searches through his unread emails. They aren’t sure when the emails containing their roles will be released, so they have been checking every day for the past five days. Sam isn’t certain that the palace will offer him a position considering how his interview with the prince went.
“Hey, that’s not so bad,” Dean says suddenly and Sam lifts his head from his phone as Dean grins at him. “I’m working in the kitchens. Cook, I think.”
Sam offers his brother a smile; the role suits Dean since he’s always enjoyed getting his hands dirty with food. It surprised Sam since the best he could do was shove a ready meal in a microwave and still manage to overcook it.
Dean returns his gaze to the email so Sam follows his lead and is shocked when he sees an unread message from the palace. When he scans through its contents, he feels his eyes widen and his lips part.
“What?” Dean grunts.
Sam can’t find the words to respond as he re-reads the email to ensure that he isn’t imagining things. Dean frowns and peers over his shoulder and a similar expression sweeps over his face before he thumps Sam hard on the arm.
“You said you screwed the interview up!”
“I… I did,” Sam manages as he reads the email a third time. “Maybe it’s a mistake?”
“The palace doesn’t make mistakes like that,” Dean snorts. “Congratulations.”
Sam swallows. “I don’t want it.”
“Tough shit.”
Sam gives his brother a dirty glare and Dean claps him over the back with a grin before sauntering away, thoroughly pleased with himself. Sam stares at the introduction to the email once more.
Dear Sam,
Congratulations! His Royal Highness, Prince of Eden, Gabriel Novak has selected you to be his next Gentleman-in-waiting. Out of one-hundred and fifty-seven candidates, you were most suited for the role. Your responses were thoughtful and innovative and you showed the most aptitude for the type of work expected of you.
The rest of the email is obviously a generic job offer that probably hasn’t been altered in several years; he highly doubts that the prince thought his interview answers were ‘thoughtful and innovative’. In fact, he is at a loss as to why the prince has selected him at all.
Perhaps he can ask when he starts on Monday.