The Throne | Closed
Sometimes, Castiel could get carried away. He could get wrapped up in the intrigues of the Winchesters and, when compared to their human abilities, he could convince himself that he was quite powerful, really.
Sometimes, Castiel could even convince himself he was God.
And sometimes he didn't even realize he was doing this until he was faced with a stark reminder that he was just a soldier - a soldier with a garrison who fought alongside hundreds of thousands of other soldiers with garrisons at the bidding of those much greater and more terrifying than himself.
Sometimes it took seeing one of his brothers to realize just how great the power difference between himself and select members of his family truly was.
One of his brothers like Erelim - Angel of Justice and Authority, Wheel of the Maaseh Merkava and Fifth Throne of God's Order.
Castiel had never met his brother before. Never had cause to. Because for an angel of Castiel's stature, seeing one of the Thrones was not ever a sign of good to come.
The angel let out a silent, weary sigh and dropped to one knee, head bowed. He was alone - away from Sam and Dean and too weak to even think of fleeing.
He was trapped.
"Brother," he spoke quietly in greeting.









