Four brothers, one kingdom divided among them.
The kingdom of Caelum has just lost its beloved king who had fallen ill several days before his passing. On his final day the king told his five sons of their inheritance. Michael, the eldest, was to receive the southern portion of the realm. It was filled with sea ports and prospered in their trade to other foreign lands. Lucifer was given the western hemisphere with its industrial rich cities. Gabriel was given the lumber filled north and Raphael inherited the agricultural state of the kingdom.
All of the brothers were given their own sectors of the kingdom except for the youngest. And his name was Castiel.

Now Castiel was special. No, he was not an excellent swords man, nor was he impressive in political affairs. Castiel had an attribute that none of the other brothers had. Instead of a left arm the boy had a wing.

He was not born like this, oh no. No such thing is possible. But magic was very possible. When the boy was but a babe, a sorceress by the name of Lilith caste an evil spell on him. She had never used this spell before and had hopes of using it on the four rightful heirs to the throne. One night she snuck into the newly born prince's room and began to utter the dark curse. Before she was able to complete the spell the queen of Caelum hurried into the room and stopped the witch with a high price. Her life.

The next morning the king went to see his beautiful son only to find his beloved wife cold on the marble floor and the boy crying in his crib, flapping his newly acquired wing. The king was engulfed in his sorrow and became clouded minded. He ordered an immediate search force to hunt down the witch who murdered his wife in cold blood. But there Castiel laid, forgotten. He was a constant reminder to his father that he had been the cause of his mother's death and was thus never requested in his presence.

Now that the king was passing he beckoned his youngest son over and made him lean down close to him. He looked up at the blue eyed boy and a small smile formed on the cracked lips of the dying man.

"You look so much like your mother." He rasped and tried not to cough.

"Thank you sir." He said in a shaky voice and kept the tears he felt in his eyes at bay.

"She would be so very proud of you Castiel. You inherited her kind and loving spirit. And that's why I'm giving you these." The king took Castiel's hand in his two withered ones, kidney colored splotches sprinkles here and there, and pressed something into his palm.

When Castiel drew his hand away he slowly opened it and saw that the king had given him his and his mother's wedding bands.

"Father I cannot accept these." He started to say but was soon cut off as his father raised his hand.

"Your mother was filled with love. When she died, she died out of love for you my son. And it burdens me that I have just understood it fully. I beg you to forgive me for my ways all these years." He started to cough and a servant dabbed a clothe at the spittle on the corner of his mouth.

"I forgive you father." He choked and one single tear slid down his cheek and splashed onto the elaborate bedsheets.

"Thank you my son." He smiled, a small twinkle in his eyes. "I want you to find love. And to love just as your mother loved me. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes your Highness. I promise." He nodded and placed the rings in his pocket.

"I love you my son." He whispered as his eyes fluttered close.

"I love you too father." He whimpered and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, sepressing a cry when he heard the king release his final breathe of life.

He slowly drew away from him and strode out of the King's room as his servants began to prepare the body for burial. When he reached his room he cried out in anguish and ripped his formal coat off of his torso, revealing his disgrace. He fumbled with the leather straps and silver buckles that bound his wing close to his body until the harness fell to the floor and the pure white feathers sprung out.

The eyes that contained the ocean flicked over his wing and fury and grief washed over his body. He could never find love. None of the other kingdoms would want to marry the youngest heir, nor would they want a man with a wing for an arm. He had been dealt the wrong hand at birth.

He stumbled back until his back touched the wall and he slowly slid down it, falling into a crouching position as he buried his face into his knees.

I wish I could be dead than to feel the pain I have been handed by the Fates.