
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1099303.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Peter_Hale, Scott_McCall_(Teen_Wolf), Derek_Hale, Cora
      Hale, Sheriff_Stilinski, Melissa_McCall, Alan_Deaton, Chris_Argent,
      Deucalion_(Teen_Wolf)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Fantasy, Alternate_Universe_-_Royalty, Prince
      Stiles, warlord_peter, War, Arranged_Marriage, Forced_Marriage, Wedding,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Medieval, Human_Scott_McCall, Human_Stiles,
      Marriage, Alternate_Universe, Dubious_Consent, Extremely_Dubious_Consent,
      Drugged_Sex, Wedding_Night, Canon-Typical_Violence, Loss_of_Virginity,
      King_Peter_Hale, Werewolf_Peter, Alpha_Peter_Hale, Beta_Derek_Hale,
      Werewolf_Derek, Insanity, Fluff, Royalty, Molestation, Kidnapping,
      Rescue, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Knotting, Mates
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-25 Completed: 2014-03-26 Chapters: 14/14 Words: 84912
****** Of old beasts and new gods ******
by ToyBoxOfSuz
Summary
     Peter Hale is a warlord who rebelled and conquered the Stilinski
     Kingdom. He demands to be wed to the crownprince: Stiles Stilinski
     and become the king. After five years of war... Stiles accepts.
Notes
     This was a NaNoWriMo project and I put more effort and time into it
     than it's acceptable. It's a finished story. I plan to update weekly,
     but might be longer, because I tend to freak out over the chapters...
     Betaed by: lilred and Evy~
***** Chapter 1 *****
                                   PROLOGUE
Scott was looking troubled. His brows were furrowed and his lips were a thin
line as he was thinking of saying something. Stiles wasn’t sure if he planned
on making him stop, talk about it again, or just straight out wanted to tell
his prince and best friend how stupid he was. Stiles had heard it all before.
“Are you sure?” Scott asked finally. The ringing of the keys in his fiddling
hands was loud in the silence of the prison.
“Do I have to repeat myself?” Stiles retorted with a raised eyebrow. Though his
glance wasn’t on his friend, who was also the captain of his personal guards.
He was watching the man behind the wooden bars; the man who burned down their
country to rise to power, throwing them into an endless, bloody chaos. The man,
who married him, stained his and his family’s reputation. He took so much and
had promised peace in return. But there was no peace under his rule.
“They execute him tomorrow, Stiles…“ Scott tried once again and Stiles finally
turned his face toward him. The torches around them were giving of a dangerous
light to his features, and Scott couldn’t surpass a worried swallow. Stiles
really had changed since his wedding.
“Open it.” the prince ordered and Scott didn’t ask anything anymore. He quietly
obeyed, and unlocked the door of the prison cell. Stiles slowly stepped inside,
keeping his eyes on their prisoner. It was dark, but the only window and the
light of the torches provided just enough light to see. They gave the man a
cell where he could see the marketplace where he would be executed.
Where they will cut him in half tomorrow.
Stiles licked his lips again as he stepped closer to the prisoner who was
sitting in one of the corners of the cell, chained to the wall. As the man
heard him coming, he lifted his head, his shackles rattling quietly. His
clothes were ragged on his much thinner frame than Stiles remembered. He was
filthy and those blue eyes were the eyes of an insomniac. Stiles recognized
that look, because he was one too.
Peter Hale, the Insane King. That will be how the chronicles will remember his
name. They will write about his glorious battles, talk about his tactics, and
sing about how he was able to kill men, women and children without a second
thought and how he wanted to destroy the whole kingdom. But there was one side
of him only Stiles could tell about…
 
                                   CHAPTER 1
                                        
The war was in its fifth year; though the last two years resembled more to
desperate surviving. Their kingdom was in ruins, their people were suffering,
and a lot of good men and women had died in the fights. The landlords either
withdrew into the fortresses or swore loyalty to the warlords: the Hales. It
was a world of violence and their kingdom was on the edge of falling apart.
Stiles still remembered his father’s eyes when they got the letter about the
fall of their strongest fortress. The message was accompanied with the head of
the general who had protected it. The king’s face was dark, his eyes red and
his breath was stuck on his lips as he reread the lines of the message. It was
a sight Stiles will never forget. It was a point in his life which made him
realize his position, and how his life will change from then on. He had a few
of these moments deeply buried away in his memories and now, there was one more
which will haunt his sleepless nights.
“Dad.” he started, stepping closer to his father, gently covering his shivering
fingers with his own. “Let’s accept his offer.” He wanted to be tough when he
said it, but his voice broke at the end. Because as Stiles said that, he
realized what he had just accepted to.
His father slowly looked at him and Stiles saw the plea in his eyes. That he
doesn’t have to do this, there are other ways, there is always a way. He was
saying this for the last year, ever since Peter first stated his offer. But
right now their options had run out. Of course, they could continue the war,
but it would mean everyone will end up dead, the lands will turn into deserts
and their kingdom will become the hugest bonfire the world has ever seen.
Peter Hale’s offer was: he will stop the war and the killings, if he can marry
the crown prince and become the king of the country.
“How do we know he’ll keep his promise?” The king asked with a sigh in his
voice.
“He has to,” Stiles answered even if he wasn’t as sure in Peter Hale as any of
them. He was unpredictable; a strong strategist and only one thing was sure
about him: he was greedy for power. “He could have kept this up, but he gave us
a choice, dad,” The prince tried again. “He wants to be king, he wants power…”
The king sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes as he was thinking about his son’s
words.
“You’re just seventeen.” He turned to him, still pleading.
“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles answered, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter,
it’s-” he started but his words were cut as his father reached out to hug him
tightly. That sealed it. King Stilinski will let his son marry one of the
Hale’s warlords for peace.
--
The tension was almost visible in the castle that day. Servants were running
about, tending to their jobs. Royals were whispering the latest gossips; the
hottest topic was the wedding of the crown prince. It was the day of engagement
and also the day when the war’s end will be declared. It wasn’t exactly clear
which part made the guests more excited.
The castle was swarmed by people from all over the country; people who were
loyal to King Stilinski and people who were waiting for the new king’s rule.
Peter Hale proved he was capable of rising to power fast and he was able to
keep it and that was very appealing for future underdogs who wanted to take a
bite of that meat too. Stiles looked over these people, feeling sick to his
stomach as he was thinking about how easily they switched sides. But his father
warned him about this. He was raised to be king, so he had to learn about the
etiquette and politics of the royal court. Also, with the war starting he also
had to learn how difficult it is to actually keep someone’s honor and that
surviving sometimes included switching sides. But is it always worth it, Stiles
wondered. Giving up your principles and everything you believed before just to
survive? But weren’t your principles your life?
Yes, Stiles was learning a lot about a lot of things, but nothing had prepared
him of what was going to happen once he’s wed to Peter Hale. He was familiar
with the official run of course. If Peter and he were to become husbands, they
will have to state in their marriage settlement who will receive the crown and
part of the offer was that Stiles’ right to be king will be transferred to
Peter. The moment Stiles signed that piece of paper he’ll no longer be crown
prince but Peter will be.
And the following day his father will resign from the throne making Peter Hale
the Insane their new king.
Therefore, Stiles was familiar with the externals, but not with the life of
being the wife of Peter Hale; if he would even get the chance to live that
life… The court was full of gossips about Peter. Ever since he’d rioted against
the king, declaring independence and practically taking over the whole kingdom
in five years, people wanted to know more about him. But the Hales were
secretive and that was one of their strong points. There was a wide scale of
gossips about them and Stiles had heard it all.
“The Hales are wizards.”
“All of the Hales died in a fire six years ago and they are back from the dead
to take revenge on the country.”
“Derek Hale is a werewolf.”
“Peter Hale is insane.”
“Cora Hale is a witch.”
“Peter Hale had seven wives before, but he killed them all. He killed one with
a wine bottle, trashing it down her throat. He suffocated another with raw pig
intestines.”
“They drink blood and pray to the Ancient Gods by the full moon.”
“They actually ARE the Ancient Gods.”
Personally, Stiles’ favorite was the one where they said that Peter Hale
actually has three heads and vomits a kind of material, from all three mouths,
which burns down everything. It was hilarious. He was trying to stick to that
image as they were waiting for the man’s arrival in the throne room.
“He doesn’t actually have three heads, I saw him,” Scott muttered from next to
Stiles. “But he’s shorter than they say,” he added oh so helpfully and his
prince swallowed loudly. “Relax, Stiles.”
Scott was probably the only one who dared to talk to the crown prince like
that, but Stiles didn’t mind. They weren’t just prince and guard, they were
best friends. Scott was the one who kept Stiles sane and grounded all these
years. He is the reason he could adapt to the thinking of people who aren’t
royals. Scott’s mother was a nurse in the royal army, serving the kingdom and
patching up soldiers; from both sides. Stiles met her a few times and he
thought Scott’s mother, Lady McCall was the most amazing woman he’d ever met.
After Her Grace Lydia Martin, of course. Scott and Stiles were good friends
since when they were little, and Stiles was the happiest when Scott applied to
be amongst his personal guards and now look at him, he is the captain of his
personal guards.
“I’m trying, it’s just…” Stiles sighed, running his hand through his short
brown hair nervously.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know,” the prince hissed quietly and turned his gaze toward
Scott. He could see the silent concern on him and it made him even more
nervous. Stiles wanted to ask more about Peter, about how he looked, what was
Scott’s first impression? Did they ever talk? How did he smell…? He wanted to
hear anything to know that Peter Hale wasn’t actually that big of a deal. But
he knew that was just an illusion. While there were gossips, and most of them
were just fairytales, Peter Hale was a big deal. He might not breathe fire, or
kill with only a glance of his eyes, but he was smart and powerful. To top it
all he was also violent, the gossips agreed on that one. His name was Peter
Hale the Insane, or just simply the Insane. Stiles was trying to think about
the three headed version of him again to attempt to calm himself down, but as
he heard more people walking up to the door of the throne room it became more
difficult.
“Breathe.” He heard Scott’s voice again and he wanted to punch the wall. “I’m
here.” And that did the trick. It actually calmed Stiles down, knowing that
Scott’s going to be with him through all this chaos. He will be there. He let
out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and glanced at his friend again.
“Of course you’re here, you’re my personal guard,” Stiles snorted, playfully
slapping Scott’s arm. They chuckled a little and Scott opened his mouth to
retort something, but then the great door of the throne room opened. The prince
and his guard looked over as the king erected from his throne to welcome the
warlord and his followers.
Stiles had never seen Peter before, not even a picture, but for some reason he
recognized him straight away as he laid his eyes on him. He just knew that the
tall figure who was leading the march was Peter Hale.
He really didn’t have three heads. But he had a kind of presence that made
everyone in the room silent and not from awe. He filled the place with tense
fear. A kind of distress the prey feels before the predator jumps in for the
fatal strike. Everyone was afraid. No one could even stutter a word and yet the
king welcomed the triumphal march so loud it echoed all over the room.
“I would like to welcome you in my palace, in my home, and amongst my people,”
the king said motioning around the throne room and Stiles, once again, realized
why his father was king. His words and his voice carried that kind of royal
volume which not many possessed. Stiles thought he wasn’t one of them either.
Scott sometimes showed potential of it and Stiles swore that he will make him
knight one day for it. The king’s words gave everyone’s spirit back, the
tension lifted only a little and the intense whispering started. The noise was
soft, but Stiles couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ear. His whole
body was tense as Peter was walking toward the stairs which lead up to the
throne where the king was standing.
The warlord had a confident smirk on his lips, keeping his hand on his sword by
his side and his steps didn’t waver as he walked the stairs without even bowing
to the king. But why would he do that? He’s going to be one too and apparently
Peter Hale’s not bowing to a fallen king. Stiles felt utterly sick as Peter
stopped right in front of his father.
Peter was taller, but that’s not why his glance emitted that he was looking
down at the king. He didn’t have a drop of respect for him at all as he was
eying the older man. His eyes fell on the crown then.
“Is that the crown I’m going to wear?” Peter asked cocking his chin up. His
insolence was so shocking it made the whispering stop. Everyone was listening
intensely and even the royal guards all around were practically frozen.
“In a few days,” the king answered, still in a steady voice and not turning his
eyes away from his enemy, “today’s the day of the end of the war.”
“And my engagement.” Peter smiled and turned his head toward Stiles. The boy’s
breath hitched at those eyes. They were the bluest of blue, colder than ice and
Stiles felt his stomach drop. He felt as if he’d been stabbed, and probably his
heart thought the same because it wanted to break his ribcage to do the job
itself.
Stiles was so afraid while he was looking at Peter, he thought he was going to
faint. Yes, just what he needed right now. His father was standing straight
through it all and he was about to pass out. No, he couldn’t do that to him.
Though that decision seemed difficult to pull through as Peter made his way
toward him. As the man was walking, time slowed down. Stiles could see his
steps, the way his shoulders were moving, how his sword was swaying by his side
and that overly confident smirk on his lips grew ever wider. It was almost
menacing. The prince wanted to look away, or more like run away, but he
couldn’t do that. It wasn’t just about him anymore, but about the fate of a
country.
Peter stopped in front of him, eyeing him the same way as he did his father;
calculating and cold. Stiles was bearing that look bravely, but it tested his
willpower. It made him remember that one time when he had met a wolf. They were
out in the woods, hunting with his father, and he’d gotten lost… and as he was
crying, a wolf came along and Stiles had gotten utterly scared. He hadn’t been
able to look away even if his teacher had told him not to hold the gaze of a
wild animal. They would take it as a challenge. Maybe that’s why he didn’t look
away now, he wasn’t losing against Peter Hale, no matter how wild he seemed.
Scott must have felt the same tension because when Peter stepped too close, the
boy tensed up and grabbed the hilt of his sword. The man’s gaze flickered at
him in a silent threat. They were ready to start a fight then and there and
Stiles knew he had to do something.
“Scott…,” he whispered to his friend and he hated how hoarse his voice sounded.
The boy backed away a little, but still kept his glare on Peter and his hand on
his sword. The man smiled and it reminded Stiles of a person who was taunting
the tiger outside it’s cage.
“Prince Stiles,” Peter greeted him at last in a deep, rumbling voice and the
air in the room had gotten chilly. Especially when the warlord moved to take
his hand and lay a kiss on his cold, shivering fingers.
“Sir Pete--” The prince started but Peter interrupted him, squeezing his hand
to the point he was afraid he’d break it.
“’Your Majesty’ Peter Hale,” he hissed at the prince and Stiles closed his eyes
to keep himself from spitting between the eyes of this monster.
“Not yet,” he snarled when he collected himself enough to talk.
“Your country is in flames, Prince Stiles, I torched it. I control all the big
families and my army owns all the strategic points and you still don’t think
that I’m the true king?”
“Until we’re married, you’re just a rebel,” Stiles answered, and he was damn
proud of himself that he could still talk with a steady voice in the presence
of Peter. He was overwhelming in every sense of the word; especially when he
was looking at him like that.
“I want everyone out of this room, now,” Peter said suddenly, turning on his
heels toward the crowd of people and dropping Stiles’ hand.
The king took an angry, deep breath, having yet another silent fight with the
usurper of the throne. In the end he lost, just as he lost the war, Stiles
thought vaguely. The king motioned toward his guards and took his way toward
the entrance. Stiles nodded at Scott too and prepared to follow his father but
Peter tilted his head at him.
“Except you.”
“What?” Stiles blinked stopping in his tracks so suddenly Scott almost ran into
him.
“I want everyone out of the room except you, Prince Stiles.” Peter repeated in
a tense voice, purely out of patience. “And that means I don’t want to see your
lapdog here either,” he added, looking at Scott. Stiles felt his chest burn up
from anger.
“You might want to check your vision, Sir, I see no dog here,” he answered
lightly, spreading his arms, and Scott did an awful job hiding his chuckle.
Peter noticed it too and his smirk finally disappeared. The prince marked it
down as a victory.
“I don’t think you understand,” Peter started and walked up to Stiles again,
closer than ever, into his personal space. His tone was soft and quiet as if
talking to a child, but the prince still felt a chill as he was listening to
them. “If you won’t send the dog out of here this instant I’ll throw him out
that door myself. Limb by limb.”
“We’ll see about that!” Scott started stepping to Peter and he was ready to
draw his sword.
“Wait, no!” Stiles gasped, grabbing the boy’s shoulder. The last thing he
wanted was Scott getting hurt. Even if he was a talented soldier, better than
most of the guards, he still lacked the experience and the cold attitude Peter
had. Scott had never killed before, but Peter had and that alone made the man a
dangerous opponent. And Stiles needed Scott, still. “It’s alright Scott, just-
just go, okay? I’ll be fine. He can’t kill me or he loses the only thing that
could make him lawfully king,” he said, squeezing his friend’s shoulder. “It
will be fine,” he added quietly, hoping Peter didn’t hear that.
“But… he…” Scott started just as quietly and Stiles’ heart broke how helpless
he sounded. He hated to do this to Scott, but it was for his own good.
“Go,” Stiles said in his ‘This is an actual order, Scott’-voice and the guard
sighed. He nodded quietly and turned to escort the last of the people leaving
the throne room. He was the one closing the door.
The silence was the first thing that hit Stiles. He’d been in the throne room
when it wasn’t filled with royals and knights before, but this time it felt a
little different.  He wasn’t a child anymore, but he felt small next to the
hall’s huge pillars. The late afternoon sunlight of early spring was shining
through the tall windows filling the usually grey room with a golden glow. And
it was supposed to be magnificent, something out of a book, something magical,
but to Stiles, in that moment, it seemed like the place was reflecting the time
before the war, when the kingdom was in peace and there were no warlords who
trampled all over it. The room was dying along with the StilinskiKingdom.
In the deep silence, Peter’s steps echoed so loudly that the prince flinched.
He tore his eyes away from the marble pillars and sunshine on the walls to look
at the other person in the room. The man was walking back to the throne, gently
stroking the armrest, almost possessively. The prince let out a deep breath
through his nose, biting at his lower lip as he was watching.
The next moment Peter moved and sat down on the throne; his sharp smile
returned as he looked over the room. Stiles fisted his hands by his sides,
thinking how an awful sight it was, Peter Hale on his father’s throne. It was
absolutely terrible.
“What are you doing?” The prince asked. “You could be killed just for sitting
there, you know.”
“It’s my rightful place,” Peter answered, leaning back with a sigh. “I just
like to enjoy the view.”
“Of all the people who like you?” Stiles snorted and Peter turned his head
toward him.
“Come here,” he ordered, and the prince crossed his arms, not moving. “Stiles.”
“Prince Stiles.”
“Do you want to keep your tongue or do you prefer to be mute for the rest of
your life? I personally advise the second option.”
“What about the third option where you piss off?” Stiles retorted and vaguely
wondered what the hell he was doing. Giving attitude to Peter Hale of all
people. His father always warned him to not be so rude, and sometimes silence
is golden, but Stiles was always the worst when it came to being silent… and
now it might be his end.
“You don’t want me to fetch you,” Peter warned and Stiles swallowed. He forced
his legs to move and walk to the throne where the man was sitting. His
shoulders tensed and he got alarmed as it seemed a default state to be in near
Peter, but he still got caught off guard. The man grabbed his arm and yanked
him down; Stiles felt a strong hand in the back of his neck and Peter forced
him to kneel between his legs, facing him.
It happened so fast and the grip on his neck was so tight Stiles let out a
scared yelp, grabbing onto the nearest thing to keep his balance, which was the
fabric of Peter’s trousers. He closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth to
prepare for the punch or kick or anything that was coming his way. But when
nothing happened, Stiles dared to open his eyes in confusion. He felt Peter’s
hand on his neck as he looked up at him from where he was kneeling. The man was
smiling down at him, almost laughing.
“Yes, enjoying the view,” he said quietly, his gaze roaming over the prince’s
face.
“You’re sick,” Stiles hissed and moved to set his crown before it slipped down
from his head, but Peter tightened his grip and he decided not to move for now.
“What are you-“
“I should make you suck me here and now to prove a point you don’t seem to get
through your thick head,” Peter muttered, and pulled the boy’s head closer to
his body. If Stiles wasn’t scared before, now he definitely was. Peter wasn’t
planning on hurting him, oh no. The man wanted to humiliate him.
“No…” He breathed, wondering where his voice went.
“What?” Peter asked, leaning forward. His breath ghosted upon Stiles’ cheek,
who couldn’t help his whimper. Despite the hand on his neck he squirmed to get
out of Peter’s grip. “What happened? You’re suddenly not that talkative.”
“Let me go!” Stiles panted, shaking his head, making his crown hit the ground
with a loud metallic sound. He was trying to keep his breathing steady, but in
the threshold of panic it seemed like a difficult task.
“I thought princes around here were raised to be polite,” Peter hummed and
caught the boy’s wrist when he wanted to hit him in a quite sensitive spot.
“Not with rebels like you!” Stiles shouted in a shaking voice, trashing around
to free himself from Peter’s iron grip. He felt like the man could smash his
skull into pieces if he wanted to, and really, that’s not exactly the death he
desired. His struggle didn’t even budge Peter and the more Stiles tried to flee
but couldn’t, the more he felt like breaking down. He wanted to cry and sob and
beg and run for his life. He wanted to run back to his father and tell him how
this was a mistake, that nothing gets better if he marries Peter Hale.
“I’ll be your king in a few days,” Peter snorted a sort of disbelief; as if he
couldn’t believe that Stiles still couldn’t accept that. Even after the kind of
treatment he’d got, but he didn’t say anything more, rather, he let the boy go.
Stiles wasn’t prepared to be released so suddenly so nothing held him back when
he freed himself from Peter’s hands. His vehement threw him where his crown had
landed and he’d never felt so humiliated in his life. Judging by Peter’s smug
glare it was exactly what he was planning to do. Stiles rubbed his eyes,
because of the dust and not because he almost burst out crying. He reached for
his crown when Peter started talking again.
“Go now,” was the only thing he said. He just dismissed Stiles, the crown
prince, just like that. If Stiles had more energy he would have argued, but he
really just wanted to get out of there, to get as far away from Peter as
possible.
When Stiles finally met Scott again he must have been a wreck because his
captain looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Did he hurt you?” Scott asked putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder as the
prince fumed.
“No, he was just being extremely rude. Like, out of this world rude,” the
prince complained, trying to calm down. He told himself it was just because
he’s not used to this kind of treatment, that’s why Peter’s behavior was
affecting him so much. He really wanted to ignore it, forget what just happened
in the throne room but he couldn’t. Stiles wasn’t looking forward to the times
that were ahead of him.
--
It was Stiles who chose to accept Peter’s offer and from that moment on, he was
thinking about his new position and new life constantly. The prince knew it
will affect him and his environment a lot, but he also knew it saved thousands
of people. There was already news about people calming down and soldiers
withdrawing, leaving the towns alone. Stiles thought it’s already a good thing
if he could save at least one life with his choice and it happened to be a good
choice.
So Stiles was thinking a lot about this part of the bargain, but completely
ignored some other parts of it. For example, how he had to go through a kind of
education for it. It wasn’t something he wanted to ever remember, but it put
new fears in him. His teacher, Professor Harris, somehow had this amused tone
while he was talking about certain things and Stiles wanted to smack him for
it. His teacher was too amused for his own good.
“Just because I’m a virgin I shouldn’t go through this torture,” Stiles
groaned, rubbing his forehead. He already felt a headache coming and he wasn’t
so amused over it. “And you know what? I swear half of these things I just
heard are not real. Absolutely can’t be real.” He repeated because those things
can’t be real. No human body could handle… that. Professor Harris is supposed
to prepare him for his wedding night, as long as learning and reading about
that helps, but all it did to Stiles was to make him more afraid of that night
than ever.
“He might not even touch you,” Scott snorted, and Stiles squinted his eyes at
him.
“Are you saying I’m not worth touching? Huh? Huh?!” He started, not even
leaving the captain to protest. “Just because you already got it on with Lady
Argent you think you know everything about it, or what?!”
Scott chuckled and Stiles rolled his eyes at how red his cheeks flushed. He
personally had nothing against the relationship between his bodyguard and Lady
Allison Argent, the daughter of the royal huntsman, except it made Scott act
like a lovesick little puppy at times. But love was good; love was alright.
Love was great, especially during the times of war. Lady Argent’s family was
out on the frontlines too and she lost her mother to the Hales recently. Stiles
remembered that day because that was the day he’d seen Allison grow from a girl
to a woman… It was one of those days that made him want to accept Peter’s
offer.
“I’m just saying, that he might prefer to have his way with people who are
professionals,” Scott shrugged. “Like, most of the kings and queens before.”
“Not my parents,” Stiles snapped.
“Well… but they were…” his friend started, trailing off because even if he was
the prince’s best friend, parent-talk was still sensitive, especially when
Stiles was in such a situation. “They were special,” Scott finished in a
whisper. “You definitely won’t have what they did with Peter.”
Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as his headache arrived. He knew Scott’s words
were true, in every aspect. He knew that Peter was doing this for power and the
simplest way to get it was through marrying Stiles. But the prince also knew
that Peter will need to touch him. It was tradition; the marriage wasn’t valid
without it which was the most messed up thing. Clearly, someone wasn’t thinking
this through at all back in the day.
A hand on his shoulder snapped Stiles out of his deep thoughts about strangling
Peter with his bare hands. He looked at Scott with a heavy sigh.
“You still have a few days until the court moves to the Beacon Fortress,” the
guard said and it didn’t make Stiles feel any better. Somehow, he didn’t have a
good feeling about moving from their current capital. It symbolized safety to
him, it was his home and not just because a rebel said it’s not safe, they will
have to move the whole damned court. But maybe it was for the best, maybe with
a new environment Stiles will be able to adapt to the changes a bit more.
He really was trying everything to keep himself together.
--
The journey to the fortress was a few days long and Stiles was glad he didn’t
have to meet Peter during that time. For that matter, he didn’t meet any of the
Hales either. Their henchmen were around, but the Hales were probably busy in
establishing the new regime that will come to the Stilinski Kingdom, well, soon
to be called Hale Kingdom.
At the time Stiles and his father arrived to Beacon Fortress the wedding
preparations were almost ready. The most surprising in that was that people
were genuinely happy. Stiles had expected gloom would settle over them or a
kind of murderous intent he was feeling deep in his gut but it wasn’t like
that. People were calm, and most importantly, happy.
“They are simple people, son,” the king started at dinner that night when
Stiles mentioned about the general happy mood of the fortress. “They don’t care
about who’s the king as long as there’s peace and food on their table.” His
voice was gentle, and it soothed Stiles like nothing could. “There’s going to
be peace soon, and that was the biggest desire of people in the past five
years… all thanks to you.”
The prince sighed, just staring at his plate for long minutes. He really tried
to be happy for the people, and welcome peace, but he knew he’s not going to
have peace. Not ever as long as Peter Hale is alive.
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     Dub-con and drug use warning for this chapter!
     Betaed by: Evy~
Stiles’ breath hitched as he realized what he was looking at in the mirror for
a while now. It was his reflection, yes, but dressed in white. He was wearing a
white, long sleeved tunic, with matching trousers and soft shoes. His hair and
skin were scented as lavender from the bath he had taken earlier. He looked and
smelled like a bride, and he hated it. Stiles was sure he’ll also forever hate
the scent of lavender because it will remind him of this day; of the day when
he became Peter Hale’s wife and gave up his right to the throne for him.
“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?” a servant asked suddenly and Stiles
jumped a little.
“Ah, uh…” he stuttered looking at her. “Yes, yes I was just uh…” the prince
said, looking around in the room. The windows were adorned with white flowers
and ribbons and all his servants were practically glowing in the kind of blush
he was supposed to have. Stiles was supposed to have butterflies in his stomach
and not knives; he was supposed to think about his wedding as something
beautiful and not as something terrifying. It all descended on Stiles in that
moment and when his servant handed him his wedding bouquet, he felt something
crawl around his neck and start to strangle him.
“I need a minute…” he started, taking a deep breath as he was trying to fight
against a panic attack.
“But Your Majesty, the wedding…” his servant tried, but Stiles shook his head
vehemently, holding onto his flowers with a death grip.
“I said I need a god forsaken minute!” he yelled. His anger came through so
much that it made everyone in the room jump, but he didn’t care. He needed to
calm down before he meets Peter in the church of the fortress, he needed to get
himself together. Stiles didn’t want to give the warlord the satisfaction of
showing weakness.
The prince wasn’t sure what had happened the next few minutes because he was
too busy with not choking on his own breath and calming down his beating heart.
All he knew was that a gentle hand was trying to pry his fingers from the
flowers he was holding.
“Father!” Stiles gasped, looking at the king. He didn’t even hear when he
arrived or when he stepped to him. “When… did you…?” he asked out of breath.
“They came to me when they saw you’re not doing well.” King Stilinski answered
quietly, putting down the flowers and placing a calming hand on his son’s back
and Stiles’ knees almost gave out. His father then slowly helped him to sit
down on the bed, sitting next to him and stroking his back like he did every
time Stiles was having an attack as such. No herb or medicine or even spell
could make him feel better at these times, it was only his father’s calm hands
and presence which could make the panic gone.
“I’m fine, I just…” Stiles started but his voice was so weak he rather gave up
talking for now. He just sighed, putting his arms around himself.
“It’s alright, son.” the king said, then pulled the boy to him with one arm.
“No rush, just take your time.” It was actually working. Stiles ever so slowly
caught his breath and his heart seemed to calm down too. He also didn’t want to
choke on lavender anymore. Taking a deep breath he raised his head.
“I’m proud of you.” Stiles heard his father’s voice and he froze again. He
slowly turned his gaze toward the king. His question must have been in his eyes
because his father smiled at him and continued. “I really am.” he said. “What
you’re doing is really brave. You took a chance, you… you sacrificed something
for the country, for the people. Stiles, that’s how heroes are made.” King
Stilinski smiled gently.
The prince’ lower lip trembled at those words as he shook his head.
“I’m not a hero, dad.” he said, looking down.
“You’re brave.” the king continued. “That’s the most important here, Stiles,
and you’re brave. You could have run, you could have chosen to not take the
offer, but you did. And you never had second thoughts.”
Once again, Stiles realized why his father was king. He could give people’s
spirit back, he could fill them up again with hope and life and that was a
skill the boy always adored. This time, his father had made him smile again,
maybe the first time since these dark days.
“How would you know…” the prince smiled, looking down a bit embarrassed.
“Because I know my son.” King Stilinski smiled and placed a kiss on his son’s
temple, stroking his arm reassuringly. “Now, walk down the aisle proud, with
your head high because you’ve saved a lot of people, Stiles.”
The boy listened to his father’s words and it made him realize something. He
was raised as a proud member of the Stilinski family who will take over the
throne one day. Maybe this was his day. He’s not going to be king, but he’s
going to be married to the king. He did that to save their country, to spare
the lives of innocent people and to bring back the peace to their lands. And he
should be damn proud of that. Stiles sighed softly and reached for his father
to hug him tightly.
In his father’s arms, despite the spirit he had just received he still wanted
to ask the king to take him back home; to save him from Peter and from this
marriage. He wanted to be a little kid again and hold the hand of his father
and mother and not think about wars and warlords and death. But they were here
now and Stiles had duties. People were counting on him and he couldn’t let them
down, not anymore.
At his greatest relief his father decided to walk with him to the altar, even
if Stiles told him not to.
“You don’t have to do this…” Stiles whispered as they were nearing the doors of
the church. The prince knew how his father was thinking about this marriage and
he didn’t want to make it harder on him. He didn’t want his father experiencing
the feeling of giving his son away to someone like Peter Hale, who conquered
their country and killed their people. But his father didn’t even want to hear
about it.
“I really don’t want to give you to him, but I won’t let anyone else do it.” he
answered in his reassuring voice and with a proud smile that made Stiles want
to run back to his room and hide under the bed.
They entered the church and Stiles held his chin high as they were heading
toward the altar. The place was just as full with flowers and ribbons as the
room Stiles had prepared in. The guests looked excited, but Stiles wouldn’t
know because he didn’t dare to look at any of them. He spotted Scott in the
corner, but couldn’t meet his eyes. Somehow, the only person he was able to
look at was Peter who was standing in front of the priest. He was wearing a
dark shirt, and a dark, sleeveless tunic over it. He still had his sword by his
side even in this situation. When the organ music started playing, he slowly
turned to see his bride walk toward him.
At Peter’s gaze Stiles shivered. It was still cold and frightening just like
the first time he was looking back into that blue gaze. But this time the boy
discovered something else. Something that could be called hunger. Stiles had no
idea why that word was the first thing that came into his mind as he was
staring at the groom, but he wasn’t sure it was a good thing. His grip on his
father’s arm tightened for a second. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be
Peter Hale’s wife…
But it was too late to think about that because the next moment his father took
his hand and ever so slowly held it out for his soon to be husband. Stiles
swallowed, feeling his whole body break out in cold sweat as Peter put his
smooth fingers around his and pulled him closer. Stiles’ father pat his
shoulder on his way to his place during the ceremony and he felt his panic lick
at the back of his mind again. He knew Peter could feel his shivering too and
it made the whole situation worse. At this point Stiles was focusing on the
priest and no one else, but he vaguely wondered how smooth and warm Peter’s
hand was. It wasn’t a hand which was holding a sword and conquering nations, it
was soft and very, very warm. Almost calmingly warm, and that was an alarming
thought. Especially the moment when Peter decided to squeeze his fingers,
making Stiles’ breath hitch.
Apparently it was time for their vows and the rings. Stiles turned toward
Peter, mirroring his movements because in that moment he didn’t feel like
himself; he felt like a shell. It made it easier to handle it all. He repeated
the priest’s words; focusing somewhere next to Peter’s face and he hadn’t even
remembered that they ever exchanged rings. But they did at one point, because
when Peter reached out and cupped his cheek he could feel the cold metal
against his skin and it made him wake up.
Stiles got back to his senses just in time for their kiss. He sucked in a sharp
breath as he saw the man come closer and place his lips against his. The boy
tensed up, expecting the ground to open up and swallow him but nothing like
that happened. Peter indeed took his time with the kiss, but nothing really out
of the ordinary happened. If you don’t count the crown prince getting married
to a warlord. Really, nothing special here.
After the kiss the happily married couple was supposed to lead the jolly group
of people to the great hall where the wedding reception will take place. Stiles
didn’t want to, he just wanted to go back to his room and never come out. They
were officially married and he’d signed the contract where he officially gave
up his right to the throne for Peter.
The Hales were the royal family from this moment on and that shouldn’t make
Stiles feel as miserable as he did. He was like a walking doll, letting Peter
pull him after himself to the Great Hall. People were cheering for them and the
tension of the day when Peter arrived to the old capital was nowhere to be
found.
This wasn’t about their wedding, it was about the end of the war. It was about
finally starting a new life, Stiles realized as he was walking behind Peter.
Their hands were still attached and that made him unreasonably angry. Before he
knew what he was doing he collected all his strength and pulled on the man’s
hand to drag him next to him.
“We’re supposed to walk together!” he hissed at him and maybe the first time
that day, he properly looked into Peter’s face. Just to find a genuinely
surprised expression there.
“So you woke up. Just in time, princess.” the man commented as his lips pulled
into that awful smirk Stiles wanted to cut wider. “You were this nervous to
marry me?” he raised an eyebrow and Stiles shivered again, but not from fear
this time. But from anger. It gave him strength to go on.
“I was terrified out of my mind, you asshole.” he snapped and bit the inside of
his lower lip. Well, that wasn’t royal, polite or even clever. His life was
safe for a few days, but he wasn’t sure if he’d soon be losing limbs or tongue
if he speaks as such to Peter.
“Good.” the man answered, squeezing his hand tighter. “I want you and fear to
get cozy from now on. You will be best friends.”
“You’re the worst human being I’ve ever met.” Stiles hissed and he mentally
took the challenge Peter put him to. Apparently, the man was getting this sick
pleasure out of his fear and the prince decided to make him damn work for it.
The wedding reception was good for one thing: it drew Stiles’ attention away
from that night. He watched knights compete along with guards and witnessed
Scott proving how he’d make an amazing knight one day. People were laughing,
dancing and Stiles spotted Her Grace Lydia Martin in the crowd and his heart
just ached for her. They couldn’t talk because she seemed to hunt for her next
husband after His Grace Jackson Whittemore’s unfortunate death. Stiles asked a
lot about that incident, because it was one of those juicy gossips that ran
around royal circles, but Lydia remained pretty secretive about it. Stiles was
sure that the duke just slipped on his way down the stairs and broke his neck,
it would suit him. The prince never liked him; he was too loud and too violent
in the manner of tactics. He was a great and strong man, but something was
lacking in him that made him appear worse in the prince’s eyes. Somewhere along
the way the duke stopped caring about people. The only person who he cared for
was himself, no matter what Lydia said.
Jackson put Lydia through many hardships and yet she was still defending him,
she still stood by his side against the whole damned court. Stiles could never
understand them, at all.
But it also didn’t stop him from having a huge crush on Her Grace. She was
beautiful; her hair was red as strawberries, her lips pink like a flower and
her green gaze was like the sea: drowning men one by one. There was this awful
gossip about her that she was secretly a siren especially after her husband’s
death, and no matter how silly that gossip was, Stiles almost believed it with
the way Lydia was handling herself. She definitely had the attitude down and
the prince wasn’t against dying in her arms. Especially not on the day of his
wedding.
Stiles let out a sigh as he was thinking how he wanted to be Lydia’s next
husband. She was the only one who could hold his attention long enough to plan
a wedding with her, but for some reason she always kept refusing him. And look
how it turned out…
“The redhead?” the prince heard Peter’s voice and it dragged him back to his
reality. He turned his head to his ‘husband’ who was sitting next to him at the
table.
“Excuse me?” Stiles asked, frowning.
“You’re staring at the redhead in the green gown for a while now. Stiles, do I
have to get jealous?” the man asked in a low voice, reaching for his wineglass.
“The ‘redhead’ is Her Grace Lydia Martin, Duchess of the South Lands.” Stiles
hissed, crossing his arms.
“She’s the infamous widow siren?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well isn’t
that a surprise, she’s just as beautiful as the gossips describe.”
Stiles’ stomach sank at those words. He also didn’t like the way Peter was
looking at Lydia. Calculating and hungry. The prince had seen men look at Lydia
with eyes of a puppy or even a hungry dog; she just had that effect on them.
But Peter’s blue glance was something way more dangerous and Stiles didn’t like
it at all.
“Don’t you dare touch her.” he snarled in a voice that surprised him too. He
was ready to take on Peter Hale head-on for Lydia, but he didn’t mind. She was
one of those people he would sacrifice his life for without a second thought.
“Why would I do that when I have someone else to touch tonight?” Peter
answered. “I hope they prepared you well.”
Well, that was indeed a sudden change of topic, it left Stiles speechless.
“I’m damn well prepared, you see!” he stuttered, but he felt his blush betray
him. Of course he attended his teacher’s class about the topic, but it wasn’t
anything like the real thing. Not that Stiles would know. He watched Peter call
for another glass of wine before turning back to him.
“Don’t tell me the gossips about you are true too.” the man started, leaning
closer. “That the crown prince is still a virgin.” his voice was low and
teasing and Stiles swallowed audibly. He opened his mouth to say something, but
the look on Peter’s face shut him up. The man already knew. Stiles expected
some snarky remark or an insult, but instead Peter presented him a glass of
wine.
“Drink with me.” he said. “To our wedding, darling.”
“I’d rather drink on you choking to death, sweetheart.” Stiles retorted and
gulped down his first glass of wine that evening. For some reason, he didn’t
want to drink, he didn’t want to lose himself and get a panic attack or worse.
But he momentarily forgot about it that moment.
The taste of the sweet wine from their own highlands was giving the prince a
slight remedy from his current issues. Maybe because it was his first drink
that night it tasted sweeter than he was used to. But he welcomed it
nonetheless. He drank without stopping, emptying his glass in no time, slamming
it down on the table. The alcohol already filled him and sneaked through his
lungs to his head and made the world grow darker, louder and still a better
place than it currently was.
“Another!” Stiles held his cup up to his servant but the next moment someone
tugged on his wrist.
“One glass for tonight is more than enough.” Peter said, sending the servant
with the wine away. The prince frowned at him for a second in utter disbelief.
“Are you afraid I won’t be able to perform or what?” he asked, trying to free
his wrist from Peter’s grip.
“It’s about you doing as you’re told.” the man answered, squeezing him and
Stiles refused to groan from pain.
“How dare you order me as such, I am your wife, I’ll be the queen of this
country!” the boy hissed, pulling at his hand. He knew he was pushing Peter’s
limits, but despite he accepted his marriage offer, he’s not going to be his
slave. “I’m not sure what ‘wife’ means in your primitive culture, but here it
sure doesn’t mean ‘servant’!”
“But you still belong to me from now on.” Peter hissed back, yanking the boy.
“I think you had enough for tonight.”
“You’re sending me away from my own… from our own wedding reception?!” Stiles
asked because it was less disturbing to ask about than the other thing. Since
when did Peter think he owned him?!
“I do how I please, now… If you could escort the prince to our chambers.” Peter
said, nodding at the guard standing by them. Stiles gave out a frustrated noise
and looked around for Scott in the crowd. He knew it was a party and there were
guards everywhere but they were all Peter’s men. The only one Stiles had here
as a guard was Scott… and now he was nowhere to be found! Just his luck.
“No, no I stay, I want to stay!” Stiles shouted. He didn’t want to leave; he
didn’t want to do anything he just wanted this nightmare to end. He didn’t want
to rush into the night.
“Don’t worry, my dear, I’ll follow soon enough.” Peter finally let him go and
the prince jumped from his chair. He was ready to punch Peter in the face but
the guard grabbed his shoulder.
“Don’t you dare lay a finger on me!” the boy shouted. “I know where my chambers
are, I’ll walk by myself!” he stomped like a little kid and stormed out. He
vaguely wondered if he should say his goodnight to the crowds but he wasn’t in
the mood for it. He wasn’t in the mood for any of this, he just wanted to
disappear. He wanted to be that second stable boy who tended the horses and his
biggest problem be if they should make carrot or potato soup that night.
The prince’s steps were fast as he was heading to his room, mostly because he
started being dizzy. The guard behind him just made him more intimidated and
annoyed at Peter. He wasn’t his slave or prisoner, he was his damn wife and
Stiles swore he will show Peter the difference. But for now he wanted to be
alone, at least for a little while.
Stiles stumbled into the room, shutting the door and leaning heavily against it
to catch his breath. Yes he was walking fast but not this fast. He could tell
that something was wrong. He thought it was the wine that put him in such a
state and he hated it. His body was fighting against him, not moving as he
wanted it to, and his vision doubled. But even through his hazy sight he could
still stare in horror at the room he was in.
Flowers decorated the windows, the tables, the mirror and white rose petals
were covering the floor and the bed. It was a lovely room for a married
couple’s first night and it was supposed to make him happy and feel romantic.
But all it did was fuel his desperation.
With a loud war cry Stiles started to tear down the ribbons and flowers from
the walls and windows, feeling a sick satisfaction as they landed ruined at his
feet. He shouted at them and stomped on them, imagining Peter’s head under his
feet and watched the fragile flowers be destroyed by his utterly childish way
to release his anger toward his adored husband. He turned to the bed, dragging
the covers off, swiping down the petals from the sheets and tearing up a
pillow. Now there were petals and feathers and destroyed flowers everywhere and
Stiles still didn’t feel any better. But he refused to cry, he couldn’t cry. He
was challenged by Peter and he didn’t want to lose.
Stiles collapsed next to the bed, leaning heavily against it. His body gave up,
not wanting to do anything anymore after this private hurricane performance. He
felt more tired than he’d ever been before in his life, but at the same time
his heart didn’t want to calm down. Stiles groaned out of discomfort but he was
too tired to get his arms moving to take his tunic off. Despite the fever he
felt spreading from his chest, and the uncomfortable roughness of the cold
floor he was sitting on, he still managed to close his eyes and daze off.
--
He dreamed of deserted islands filled with white roses and ribbons, he dreamed
of fire and deserts and wolves and he was just so, so afraid. He wanted to hold
his father’s hand, he wanted to go and hide in the towers, and he wanted to
climb down the ivy walls of the castle like he did oh so many times before. He
wanted to look into the eyes of his mother once again and ask her if she’s
happy…
That thought jerked Stiles out of his slumber; not even his dreams were that
comforting. Though, he was still dreaming, because he couldn’t open his eyes.
It was still hot and his throat was dry as sandpaper. He swallowed to wet it,
but it did so little and he let out a low whimper. He wanted to call out to
someone to bring water but when he opened his mouth something extremely cold
touched his lips. Stiles gasped out and snapped his head away from the ice cold
sensation. His head felt so full and heavy, he was groggy and he still wasn’t
sure if he was awake or asleep. The sounds were strange and his body burned
feverishly hot but his bones didn’t have the usual pain in them, indeed as if
his body was waiting for something.
Then that something happened. Stiles felt pressure against his lower lip but it
wasn’t cold; it was warm and felt so nice. Calming. It was something Stiles
didn’t know he needed. He let out a relieved sigh and parted his lips, just to
have them covered with something warm. Another pair of lips. But Stiles was
more occupied with the water they brought. He felt the liquid pour into his
mouth and he gulped it down and it felt like paradise. His body didn’t feel
that heavy anymore, but he was still in a half dreaming state and his eyelids
were still as heavy as if they were made from lead.
Stiles gave a moan and tilted his head to get more of that sweet sensation and
taste. Something warm pressed against his cheek and he realized it was a hand.
Someone was cupping his face and he didn’t mind it. He also didn’t mind that
tongue licking against his own. He had stolen a few kisses before, even from
Lydia, but they never felt like this. Something dark and sinful but still a
sensation Stiles felt he could never have enough of. He moaned into it,
welcoming its sweet distraction with hungry desperation; he felt like he could
get lost in the kiss and he wanted to.
He only realized he was out of air when those lips slipped to his chin, laying
a trace of open mouthed kisses along his jaw, then down his neck. Stiles gasped
for air and a moment later his body jerked from pleasure. That spot on his
neck, yes that was the spot. It was a spot he didn’t know he had before and now
it’s being sucked on hard and sensual and Stiles let out a desperate moan.
A hand slipped on his nape and into his hair and Stiles hadn’t had any idea how
a touch so simple could make him shiver from need. He turned his head to kiss
the arm which was holding him, inviting it back so he could kiss those fingers
one by one. Apparently, it worked because he felt his cheek being cupped again
and he nuzzled into that palm, laying a bit shy, light kisses on smooth and
warm skin. Somewhere deep in his mind he realized he knew this hand. It was a
mature hand, big and strong, but smooth… as if he would have never held a sword
in his life, but he had. He had because he rebelled and conquered their
country. He stripped him down from his royal right from the throne and called
him his and thought Stiles belonged to him like one of his horses and he
thought too much of himself and brought peace but he caused the war in the
first place.
Peter Hale.
Stiles forced himself to finally open his eyes and who he saw confirmed it. He
wanted to scoff but it came out as a moan. Something wasn’t right here and
Stiles hated it. He let his guard down, he wasn’t prepared for this.
The next moment he felt Peter slipping his hands under his knees and around his
torso and lifting him up, laying him down on the bed. Such a soft bed, Stiles
realized. He turned his head to nuzzle into the sheets, scented like rose and
soap and they were just so soft. But wait, he was getting off track here and he
got reminded of it when Peter appeared hovering over him. Stiles squirmed at
how damn hot the man’s body was even through their clothes and how close Peter
had gotten.
“How do you feel?” Peter asked, but Stiles was too busy looking around their
room. Yes, it was still their chamber which he destroyed. It wasn’t a dream, it
was really happening. “Stiles, my prince, how do you feel?” Peter asked again.
His words were nice but his tone was having a mocking undertone which Stiles
didn’t miss. The prince swallowed, licking his lips and turned his hazy gaze
toward his husband.
“Did you drug me…?” he asked, finally finding the strength to speak. His voice
was rough and weak and he hated it. Peter didn’t answer but that awfully
pleased smile on his face confirmed Stiles’ doubts.
“It will make you more relaxed.” he answered at last, running a finger over
Stiles’ neck, watching with glee as the boy shivered. “You felt it, didn’t you?
You were ready to open up to me just now.”
“No…” Stiles shook his head, because it wasn’t true. It was just the drugs. He
would never ‘open up’ to Peter Hale of all people. Yet, he knew they will have
to do this, it was tradition and the marriage wasn’t valid without the wedding
night and they will check the sheets, and Stiles heard it so many times before
but still, he couldn’t accept it. He didn’t want his first time to go like
this. “I’m not ready, stop, I’m not ready!” he wheezed when he felt Peter
pulling his tunic over his head. It felt like he was wearing less and less
protection against something evil and dangerous.
“You’re more than ready, Stiles.” he heard Peter’s voice as he took his shirt
off too. For a second, Stiles realized how built the man was and finally he
could believe he was able to win wars. But something still bugged him about the
perfect skin of Peter. His torso was of a great warrior’s, but something was
missing. It wasn’t the whole picture. Stiles knew he was seeing something under
the man’s skin but the drugs prevented him to think of anything other than…
some other things. He wanted to go back to sleep, to be unconscious, he wasn’t
sure he needed this experience at all.
He felt himself panic a little when Peter pulled him closer and started untying
his trousers.
“Give me a second, just- just give me a second, Peter!” the boy gasped,
squirming a little. He didn’t need a second, he needed a lifetime, he needed… a
dagger. Stiles blinked when he realized that he was staring at a dagger hiding
under the pillow he hadn’t torn apart. He wasn’t sure how it had gotten there
or who put it there and why. He didn’t even think when he reached out for it.
Stiles grabbed the dagger and slashed toward Peter without thinking about any
of the consequences or of what he was doing exactly. He was desperate and
scared and he wanted this to end.
He learned sword fighting, but he still cried out scared when he felt the
dagger’s edge meet skin. The boy covered his face, not wanting to see all that
blood that might result in him cutting the throat of Peter Hale.
But he didn’t feel warm liquid covering his skin or the choking of a dying
person. Instead, Peter just laughed softly. Did Stiles miss? But he clearly
felt the knife against Peter’s skin. His curiosity got the best of him and he
opened his eyes, peeking out over his arms, still holding the dagger tight in
his hand.
“So you two have met.” Peter smirked down at him, and he so didn’t look injured
or even annoyed.
“What…?” Stiles asked, feeling a bit dizzy staring at Peter. The man then
reached out to grab Stiles’ hand which held the weapon and pulled the blade to
his throat again. The boy gasped and tried to free his hand but it was
impossible to break Peter’s iron grip. Though, Stiles stopped everything when
he saw the dagger slide along Peter’s skin without hurting it. The blade didn’t
pierce his skin. It didn’t hurt him. “It… it can’t cut you.” The boy stuttered
in disbelief and he felt something break inside him.
“She is my most loyal companion. It slays my enemies and protects me.” Peter
explained fondly as he slowly pried Stiles’ weak fingers of the hilt of the
weapon. “Do you want to be an enemy of mine, Stiles?” he asked, turning the
dagger toward the boy.
Stiles’ whole body tensed up in fear as he felt the blade sink slightly into
his skin by his neck. It couldn’t hurt Peter, but he was sure it would cut him
open with one smooth slice. The man kept the dagger by his throat, just looking
at him, saying nothing. Stiles let out a shaky breath, staring back at Peter.
He knew what he wanted. He wanted him to beg for his life and Stiles wanted to.
But he was raised as the proud prince of the StilinskiKingdom and they are not
begging to anyone. Not even for their lives.
After a minute of tense silence Peter pulled back and slipped the dagger under
the pillow, back to where Stiles had found it. The boy sighed in relief,
closing his eyes, causing his unshed tears to roll down to his temples. He did
nothing as he felt his trousers being slipped down his legs.
“Why… why don’t you just kill me now?” he asked quietly, rubbing his eyes with
one hand.
“It would be too easy.” Peter answered, leaning over him to place a kiss on his
forehead. The man’s actions were always confusing but this one was straight out
strange. It was a gesture so alien from him it made Stiles freeze. He refused
to give in to the feeling of serenity that wanted to sooth his body in that
moment. He knew it was just him wanting to give up, to give in to Peter, to
survive. But then he’ll lose the challenge.
“Stiles, believe it or not, I’d like this night to end well.”
“For both of us?” Stiles couldn’t help asking back. It just made Peter laugh a
little and Stiles felt a hand against his chest. Peter’s fingers were warmer
than before as they fondled him, brushing over his nipple. The boy gasped in
surprise as his body jumped from the sudden jolt of pleasure he’d felt. Was he
really this sensitive?
“Just relax, I actually don’t intend to hurt you. Not like this.” Peter’s
velvet voice poured over him like honey and Stiles bit his lower lip to keep
his head straight. Every touch of the man, and every word of his was soft and
caressing and something he would have never imagined before coming from him and
it was really confusing. Were they lies? Definitely lies. And Stiles wanted to
believe, because it was easier that way.
But his mind short-circuited when Peter reached out and wrapped his fingers
around his already hardened flesh. Stiles grabbed onto the sheets, arching his
back and vaguely wondered since when Peter had gotten between his legs. He
didn’t even have time to complain or anything as the man squeezed him just the
right amount and stroked him with slow, long movements.
Stiles parted his lips to let go of a shameless, needy moan and he hated it.
Why couldn’t they just get it over with, why wouldn’t Peter just fuck him, he
didn’t need this… he didn’t need the lie that they are going to work it out.
Because they won’t. Their marriage is fake; it was only for the sake of the
country.
When the boy felt he was going to lose it, as a last resort, he reached out to
grab Peter’s wrist to stop the stroking, but it did nothing. He was still
writhing and squirming and enjoying what Peter was doing. His body was
betraying him. Stiles came with a loud cry, feeling the last of his strength
leave his body, but in those few seconds he was feeling good. He could pretend
everything was great, and he wanted all of this, and it was fine.
When Stiles came back to reality, his body was heavier than ever and his brain
was refusing to work properly. He was completely under Peter’s will and it was
really, really scary. The boy swallowed, opened his eyes and took a shaky
breath. A moment later Peter leaned over him, kissing his lips.
“Was that so awful?” he asked with that overly confident smirk on his stupid
face, his goatee brushing against Stiles’ chin.
“Yes.” Stiles said in a low, rough voice, still out of breath. Trying to refuse
every comfort Peter might offer, but it was so hard when he was so desperate
for it.
“At least it got you nice and relaxed.” the man remarked and slipped his hand
under his waist to flip him over to his stomach. Stiles whimpered as slight
dizziness hit him, with a lick of fear.
“Will it hurt?” he asked, turning his head to try and look at Peter over his
shoulder.
“Yes.” The man answered as he retrieved something from the nightstand.
“Wha… aren’t you supposed to say no?” Stiles gasped, grabbing onto the sheets
nervously. “Aren’t you supposed to calm me down saying it won’t hurt?!”
“Do you want me to?” Peter asked, coming closer again and Stiles realized what
he’d just said. He kept refusing Peter’s so called kindness and now he was the
one demanding it. He couldn’t have felt more embarrassed. “Do you want me to
say no, it won’t hurt? That it will be romantic and gentle, because it’s your
first time?”
“No!” Stiles shook his head. “Just do it already, I don’t- I don’t care
anymore!” he hissed, burying his face into the sheets. He expected Peter to
laugh at him, but he didn’t hear any laughter. Instead Peter pulled him up on
all fours and spread his legs a bit apart.
The first slippery finger wasn’t that painful. It was rather invasive for
Stiles’ taste but he knew it will just get worse from there. He knew the
process that’s coming from his teacher, but he wished he could have read more
about it. He focused more on female and male intercourse rather than male and
male. It’s not like it didn’t interest him, but with Her Grace Lydia being the
subject of his adoration he thought he will have more use of that kind of
information. And now, look at him.
“Ow…!” he winced when he felt the second finger. Peter didn’t warn him about
that. “Gently!” he called out before he caught himself. The man slipped his
fingers deeper but also covered his back with his body, his breath ghosting
over Stiles’ ear.
“Do you really want me to be gentle?” he asked in a low tone which made Stiles
shiver. And not from fear. “Don’t you want me to be rough so you could hate
this?”
“I…” Stiles swallowed.
“What do you want, Stiles?” Peter asked nuzzling into his ear, making him
whimper.
“I just want you to stop messing with me.” he choked out as the man kissed into
his neck, his stubble brushing against his too sensitive skin. He also wanted
Peter to kiss him, suddenly. Which was such a sick thought. He wanted that kiss
to pretend that he wanted it. To pretend they aren’t doing this out of
tradition… Apparently, Peter had the same idea, because he moved closer and
leaned over Stiles’ shoulder to place a kiss on his lips. And Stiles returned
it. Peter’s kiss was gentle and warm, and Stiles could pretend it’s not him. It
was calming and he needed to calm down right now. He moaned as Peter licked
inside his mouth, rubbing his tongue against his and swiping over the roof of
his mouth.
“You’re prepared.” he heard Peter breathe against his lips. Then he retrieved
his fingers and found his place between Stiles’ spread legs. The prince inhaled
a sharp breath when he felt something thick and heavy slide along his butt
cheeks. Peter took the jar he brought again and quickly coated himself with
lubrication, despite Stiles being already prepared.
Peter was definitely bigger than his fingers and Stiles thought he was going to
die when he entered him. He squirmed away but Peter’s firm fingers were holding
him at place with an iron grip. The boy shivered, trying to spread his legs to
make the discomfort go away, but it did so little.
“So tight for me.” Peter’s whisper was like a whiplash. “You’re really a
virgin.”
“Not… not anymore…” Stiles panted, leaning his forehead down at his arms. His
whole body trembled the time the man slipped his whole length into him. The boy
groaned, trying to breathe but it seemed a difficult task. Peter’s presence was
overwhelming him in various ways and he was getting nervous again. Especially
when Peter pulled out, just to thrust back in.
“Yes…” Peter swallowed, sliding a hand around Stiles’ chest and pulling him up
to his body, making him sit on his cock. “You’re mine now.” The boy cried out
in pain, throwing his head back as Peter rolled his hips, thrusting up into
him. “I took you in every possible way, Stiles. You’re mine now.”
Peter’s voice was terrifying, but what he said was even more so. Yet, Stiles
couldn’t find the energy to fight anymore. Especially not when the man hit
something inside him that made his whole body jump from pleasure.
“Oh? Did that feel good?” Peter smiled against his ear, sliding a hand on his
throat.
“No…” Stiles whimpered but his husband snapped his hips like that again and he
couldn’t contain his cry. “Oh, gods…” he gasped, grabbing onto Peter’s arm. His
body was too honest and he hated it. He wanted to pretend he didn’t like this
at all, that it hurts more than it feels good… but fate couldn’t even give that
to him.
“It will be better if you touch yourself.” Peter told him, sounding out of
breath already. He set a steady rhythm, thrusting up into Stiles’ and with
every slide he hit a spot that shot a jolt of pleasure through Stiles’ body. He
started seeing stars and started losing his mind. “Touch it if you want.” Peter
spoke and without giving permission to his own hand, Stiles’ fingers grabbed
his hardness again and started pumping. It really got better; and the prince
couldn’t stop his moans. He arched his back, rolling his hips in time with
Peter’s as he was riding toward his own orgasm on his cock. Peter was making
him come for the second time that night, buried inside him to the hilt. Stiles’
toes curled and his limbs tensed when his release hit him, helping himself
through the waves of whiteness, shamelessly moaning louder than before.
Before he could slump down in a liquid mess because his bones felt like they
were melted, Peter pushed him down on the mattress again. Stiles gave a slight,
surprised noise and winced when he felt Peter’s erratic, wild pounding into
him. It scared him even in the daze of his release because the power the man
was working with was alarming. Stiles could feel the strength of a soldier and
the unpredictable nature of a madman. It wasn’t a good combination and he was
afraid that Peter will break him then and there.
“Peter..!” he called him. Maybe he imagined that slight twitch in Peter’s
movements, maybe he just wanted it to be there, but the next moment the man
leaned his forehead down on his shoulder blades, holding tightly to his hips
and thrusting deeper and rougher than before.
Peter came loud and violent and as he was rolling his hips against Stiles,
reaching through his orgasm, it actually hurt. The boy held his breath, fisting
the sheets tightly and closing his eyes so strong that tears were rolling down
his cheeks again. It lasted almost an eternity and Stiles held his breath the
whole time.
“Are we done…?” the prince asked in a hoarse voice when he felt Peter finally
slip out of him and collapse on the bed too. Somehow it was satisfying to see
the man just as out of breath as Stiles was. Sweat was breaking on his forehead
and the boy noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.
“Maybe.” Peter answered and Stiles wanted to hit him.
“Give me a straight answer.” he groaned against the sheets, sniffing a little.
“Are we done? The marriage is valid, it’s done, they will check me and they
will know it’s done. We did it, let it be over…”
“The drug will last the whole night.” Peter interrupted Stiles’ rambling. He
pushed himself up on his elbows to look at the boy. “There’s your answer.” he
added, cocking up his chin lightly.
Stiles eyed him, trying to see if he’s serious, but he probably was. It wasn’t
good news. He just whimpered, shaking his head and trying to hide in the
sheets, but of course it was impossible. As he shifted a little he could feel
Peter’s seed leak out of him and he twitched, remembering that this isn’t how
he wanted his first time to go at all.
“Just give me a moment…” he muttered, closing his eyes to catch some rest
before Peter decided to do it again. “Just a moment…” Stiles muttered and the
next second he was already sleeping.
And Peter didn’t wake him.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     Usual Peter shenanigans, also I chose to call Stiles 'queen' in this.
     Since he is married to the king. Yes. :3
     Betaed by Evy~
Peter was eying the ring on his finger with utter disgust. It was cold and
heavy and smelled too coppery, just like blood, despite it was made of pure
gold. It seemed like it was glowing in the moonlight which broke through the
curtains onto his wedding bed. The moon painted everything blue and black and
the wilting white roses were a mocking imitation of the stars outside in the
dark blue sky. Peter looked around the room with a snort. It indeed was an
accurate representation of how messed up these times were. When he had to marry
little boys and take their virginity to be king.
But he had to do what had to be done; there was no working around it. And maybe
he enjoyed the squirming of the little prince too, who wasn’t actually that
little. No, Prince Stiles was on the threshold of turning into a man if he
hadn’t already. Peter had seen his eyes and they were not the eyes of a boy;
Stiles looked at him like a man who wanted to challenge him. Maybe that’s why
he wanted to make him suffer a bit more than he originally intended. No one
challenges him. No men, no kings, no gods. Not anymore.
The man slowly reached for his dagger as he turned his attention back to the
sleeping prince next to him. His dream wasn’t peaceful; he was shivering and
the blush of his fever was tainting his cheeks. His face was still messy from
the tears he shed because of Peter and the man couldn’t help feeling
satisfaction over them. Tears of fear, and pain were a thing that made him go
on. Tears reminded him why he was doing this and why he was in bed with Prince
Stiles.
Queen Stiles Stilinski.
Stiles.
“His Majesty, the King Peter Hale.” Peter muttered to himself then with a small
smirk. In the morning the old king will hand his crown and rights over to him.
He has reached his goal, finally. Now, no one will dare to hurt him or his
family. He will be the most powerful man in the country. He already was.
Conquering the rest of the territories will be a piece of cake with the king’s
armies. At least something good came out of this silly wedding. It was just one
of the ways to get to the throne, though really not as satisfying as slicing
the king’s guts open in the throne room.
He was dreaming of that moment ever since he decided to throw over the whole
kingdom. Seeing the king suffer just like he did.
That thought made Peter realize he can still make the king suffer just like he
did and turned his gaze to the prince… queen sleeping next to him. He was naked
and defenseless and his pale skin was asking to be cut open and be tainted with
the dark blood from his own veins. Peter already imagined it and gave a
shivering sigh. The pleasures of the flesh didn’t really interest him, but the
pain of the flesh did. He didn’t like touching others, only if it resulted in
someone being dead or injured. That’s why he was extremely annoyed by this so
called wedding night and by the duties he had to tend to. But they were over
it, the sheets were tainted and the virgin was no longer a virgin. And if he
had to be honest with himself, he was surprised how easily he’d gotten in the
mood. Maybe the drug he gave the prince had an effect on him too, or it could
have been the fact of ruining something pure. Either way, Peter enjoyed the
night more than he first thought he will.
Though, he had no use of Stiles anymore, he wondered as he lightly ran the
blade over the boy’s back. He stopped right where he could stab through his
heart. Peter imagined the blood, the dying cry and the face of the king when he
would discover his son’s cold body on the bed. He should deserve it. King
Stilinski was responsible for all of this and taking away his son would serve
him justice.
When Peter decided to drive the dagger through Stiles’ body, he realized his
eyes were half open. He was looking at him. Peter expected fear in that gaze
but what greeted him was far from it. It was the promise of revenge. Stiles on
his death bed swore revenge against him. Peter had seen this expression before
on so many men and women, but this was the first time he felt something move
inside him. Was it fear? Was it hope? Whatever it was it made him draw back his
weapon as his lips pulled into an obsessed smirk.
He decided to give Stiles a chance. After all, killing him wouldn’t be as
satisfying if he wasn’t broken before. Why kill one of his toys when he can
have fun breaking them? And Stiles was one of his most precious possessions to
break.
--
The first thing Stiles realized was that awful headache that stabbed at his
temple. Groaning from pain, he tried to move and hissed… of pain again. He was
sure this is exactly how deceased souls wake up in Hell too. As he slowly
turned on his other side to not go blind from the light of the sun, he spotted
Scott sitting next to his bed. The guard just popped a grape into his mouth
from the tray of fruits and bread which was prepared for the prince.
“That’s a royal grape!” Stiles groaned out loud, reaching out to hit Scott’s
arm. In any other case he wouldn’t have minded Scott taking his share of his
own breakfast but this time Stiles was really angry at him. Scott jumped and
blinked at his prince a bit alarmed.
“Sorry, I was just…” he started, but as he was watching as Stiles buried his
aching head into the pillows, he leaned closer a bit concerned. “I… guess it
wasn’t exactly a good night.” Scott tried to just meet his prince’s annoyed
gaze.
“It was horrible.” Stiles hissed, rubbing his forehead to try and make the
headache go away. “Where were you, I needed you! I was assaulted…!”
“But… you told me to tend to my own business.” Scott blinked.
“I did?” Stiles frowned. “Personally?”
“No, one of the servants told me you sent them and that you… said I’m free… for
the night.” Scott muttered, then realized that he must have been lied to.
Probably Peter sent the servant to separate them for the night.
Stiles still wasn’t impressed with Scott. He could barely believe that the
captain of his personal guards was an empty headed incompetent idiot… Alright,
not really, but he wanted to take his anger out on the nearest thing or person
and Scott had the bad luck to be it. Scott was actually the most loyal of his
guards and the only person Stiles trusted with his life without any question.
“Are you alright though?” Scott asked, concerned as he nudged the tray with the
breakfast closer to the bed. Stiles sighed and pushed himself in a sitting
position and his guard put the tray over his lap. “Did he hurt you?”
The concern in Scott’s voice made Stiles freeze as he was reaching for his
water cup. It made him remember the night before, and fairly, he didn’t want to
remember. Not ever.
“I’m still alive.” He answered with a shrug, not wanting to elaborate on the
happenings of last night. “That’s a plus, I guess.” he sighed and handed Scott
the grapes.
“Did he…” the guard started and Stiles almost threw the jar of honey at him
from his tray.
“Yes he did, now if you would just stop, Scott, I’d really appreciate it!” he
said a bit louder than necessary. “Time for you to talk, what happened, did I
miss anything?”
Scott just sighed and took another grape and started telling about the night.
Apparently, the rest of the Hales had arrived, which included Derek and Cora.
They didn’t seem all that demonic, according to Scott, and Cora Hale definitely
was prettier than a witch. But then again, who knew. Stiles was listening,
sometimes throwing in a comment with a full mouth. There was a time when his
father was trying to teach him manners, but when it seemed like an impossible
task he had stopped. Some even said Stiles was the most misbehaving prince in
the last fifty years and the boy was damn proud of that.
“And, yeah, they’re signing the papers now.” Scott finished.
“What papers?” the prince frowned, leaning back against the pillows when he
felt like he couldn’t eat anymore. He was already glad his appetite didn’t seem
to decrease because of his current situation.
“The papers… you know. To declare Peter as the new king.” Scott sighed, and
looked over to Stiles. The boy gnawed at his lower lip nervously.
“But it’s not official until the coronation.” he muttered.
“Which will be this afternoon.” Scott nodded. “Then… they say that he’s going
to send King Stilinski, uh, the old king back to the old castle.” he added,
eying Stiles warily and the prince snapped his head to him.
“What!?” Stiles gasped, then attempted to get out of bed. The moment he put his
weight on his legs they gave out and he collapsed on the floor not even a
little elegantly. A burning pain shot up his spine, reminding him of the night
before once again and he gave a frustrated groan. Scott reached for him to help
the prince up from the floor but he batted his hand away, he will stand alone
even if it kills him.
The urgent need to talk to his father, or with Peter, or to anyone finally made
him get back his strength. He barked for his dressing servant even if he wanted
to have a nice warm bath, but there were more urgent matters.
Stiles was still tying the belt of his tunic as he ran to the king’s study with
Scott at his heels.
“Wait, dad!” the prince started as he barged in without knocking. The guard
didn’t stop him but that didn’t mean he should be rude. The boy didn’t actually
care at that point.
“Son?” King Stilinski looked up from the desk with the royal seal in his hand.
He just validated the contract between him and Peter, who was sitting at the
desk across from him. They weren’t alone; others were standing around them and
Stiles spotted Derek Hale and a few dukes and knights loyal to Peter. There was
no one there who was still loyal to the old king and it made the boy want to
spit all of them in the eye. Peter turned his head toward him, actually pretty
surprised that Stiles was there.
“What about your manners, Stiles?” the old king scolded the prince and the
boy’s heart almost broke. That question reminded him of the times when he was
still just a little boy.
“Indeed, Stiles. Just because you’re queen now it doesn’t mean you should act
as you please.” Peter said, standing up from his chair to go and greet his
wife. But Stiles just shook his head and shoved Peter back. The man just
chuckled too amused for Stiles’ taste, but he tried to steady his voice as he
addressed him.
“Is it true?!” he asked, his hands balled into fists by his side. His glare did
everything to pierce through Peter’s skull. “Is it true that you’re going to
send my father away?!”
“Stiles…” It wasn’t Peter who talked next, but the old king. He got on his feet
too, walking to his son. “Calm down.”
“I’m not going to calm down! He can’t do this, you can’t do this!” Stiles
shouted taking a step back and pointing at Peter.
“I have a feeling you forgot that, yes, yes I can do this. I can do whatever I
want.” the man said stepping closer. His tone was intimidating and Stiles
swallowed audibly but didn’t back away. “And if I want the old king to rot away
in the old capital then I’ll—“ but he couldn’t finish his sentence because his
loved wife’s fist met his jaw.
Stiles put every bit of his strength into that punch and he knew his knuckles
will hurt for days after it, but he didn’t care. Peter deserved it. No one
should talk like that about his father. Not even the so called king. The
silence that followed the hit was absolutely deafening, but nothing cut more
into Stiles’ gut than the glare of Peter.
The man was ready to choke him then and there and Stiles knew why. It’s not
because his assault hurt him that much, but because he dared to question him in
front of others. Stiles could spot his father rubbing the bridge of his nose
nervously.
“I expect you to leave the fortress in an hour, alluding to your poor health.”
Peter spoke softly to the old king, yet his voice still had an awfully sharp
edge. “And you…” he turned to Stiles, stroking his cheek with the back of his
knuckles and the boy still winced at his touch. “I expect you to arrive at the
coronation ceremony in time. I’ll deal with you after.”
Then he motioned the gentlemen in the room and left with the contract in his
hand. Stiles watched that stupid piece of paper which was the proof that it was
indeed official: Peter Hale was the new king. When Scott closed the door Stiles
stepped to his father and hugged him tightly, thinking if he can hug him strong
enough he won’t have to leave.
“I’m going to talk to him, I’ll convince him to let you stay. You can’t leave!”
he rambled into his shoulder, squeezing his shoulders.
“Stiles…” the king started, placing his hand on the back of his son’s head.
“He’ll listen to me, I’m the queen now, he’ll listen to me…!”
“Stiles.”
“Just don’t leave, I’ll try to do anything to—“
“Stiles!” the king said a bit louder, finally making his son stop his nervous
rambling. “Right now he’s like a drunk man, not listening to reason. He became
powerful and…”
“No, dad no…”
“Listen to me!” the old king shook his son a little to make him listen. “This
is for the best. He’s just sending me away. I’m more worried about you.” he
said, looking Stiles all over. “He could hurt you more than he could hurt me.”
he sighed. “How was last night?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Stiles quickly said, flailing his hand to even
shoo away the memories of that awful night. He also hated how everyone seemed
to be too occupied with his wedding night. “I’ll be fine, but-“
“There is no but.” the old king stated. Because for Stiles his father was still
the king. “These are our winds now and we must adjust our sails. He is
dangerous and I just want the best for you.”
Stiles bit his lower lip looking down. He knew his father was right, that if
Peter ordered something then it had to be done. But why this. Why his father.
Without him there will be only Scott and a few servants he knew and that scared
him a lot. He opened his mouth, he wanted to say he was scared, but the worried
look of his father made him shut up. So he just nodded. He didn’t want to let
him go even more troubled.
“I’m still proud of you son.” the king said, pulling Stiles into his arms once
again. “Keep being the strong and proud son I raised.” he added at last with a
soft smile and Stiles’ lips quivered, but he nodded at last and let his father
go to prepare for his departure.
Scott let Stiles have a little breather, but because it was indeed the first
day of the HaleKingdom the Queen had duties to attend. Therefore his guard
dragged him back to his room for check-up first of all things. Because not just
the sheets needed to be verified but the wife himself too, for Stiles’ greatest
annoyance. Everything and everyone kept reminding him how he’d indeed gotten
married the day before. The one making sure he was ‘alright’ was Scott’s
mother, Lady McCall and Stiles couldn’t be happier about it. She also checked
if their new queen is doing fine and well, despite the circumstances and her
presence calmed Stiles down a bit after that awful scene in his father’s
office. He was always nervous around doctors and nurses except her, so he was
really great even Peter’s men trusted her opinions.
“Thank you, I really appreciate this.” Stiles sighed when he finally put his
clothes back on.
“You have no idea how many other nurses wanted this job, if it wasn’t for Scott
someone else would have been the lucky one. It’s awful what they would do for
the juicy gossips.” the lady chuckled as she cleaned her hands in the basin.
“Yes, that’s really reassuring to hear. That all the nurses were curios my
abused state, I mean… to the gods old and new!” Stiles snorted and he vaguely
noted that things might not be that awful if he could still joke around. He
stood from his bed and walked to the window just to see his father and his
suite leave the gates. His chest tightened again, knowing it might be years
until he sees his father again.
“Don’t worry for him. I’ll go back to the old capital to take care of him.”
Lady McCall started in a soft voice and the queen turned back to her.
“Please do.” he said just as softly and maybe, just maybe felt a bit better
about the situation. Knowing that Lady McCall will be there for his father was
a reassuring thought.
“You can’t go in!” came Scott’s voice from the door and both of them turned
toward the intruder. A dark skinned stranger entered the room. His dark brown
cowl and his warm smile stroke Stiles as ‘trustworthy’.  He seemed like a monk.
The whole man radiated the wisdom of a teacher and that alone made the boy act
a bit calmer than he expected from himself. He parted his lips to ask what the
hell he’s thinking but Lady McCall was faster.
“Excuse me, but this is a private examination of the queen.” she started and
walked up to the stranger. “How dare you barge in like that?” she asked then
tilted her head toward Scott who was standing by the door. “And why did you let
him in!?”
“I was just- “ Scott started, already annoyed by how today was turning out for
him. “He barged in without asking.”
“I apologize if I was rude, but I also need to talk to the queen.” the stranger
smiled, turning to Scott, then back to Stiles and the nurse. “Your Majesty, my
name is Deaton. I’m… an emissary of the Hale family. And if you may let me, I’d
like to have my own look at you.”
“What?!” Everyone in the room gasped, though for different reasons.
“No way!” Lady McCall started, shaking her head. “I did my work pretty
thoroughly and if that’s not enough for the Hale dogs then I’m sorry. The
queen’s been… he’s done his duties well and there won’t be more examination
necessary.”
Stiles swore in that moment that if he weren’t married he would ask for Lady
McCall’s hand in marriage.
“I’m not curious about his duties.” Professor Deaton shook his head a little,
smiling as he kept his eyes on Stiles. “My… curiosity lies somewhere
different.” he said, straightening his back. “Then let me ask this… was there
anything unusual last night? Did His Majesty mark you in any different way?”
“’The hell are you talking about!?” Stiles frowned heavily at the strange man.
Marking?! “Do you want to know if he hurt me?” he asked stepping closer to the
emissary. The man didn’t seem the least intimidated, but his smile disappeared.
“Did he?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“What’s an emissary?” Stiles asked instead.
“A kind of… mentor, adviser.” the man answered not missing a beat. “Did His
Majesty hurt you?” he asked again slower. Apparently, it was an important
question and the queen spotted Scott and his mother cast worried glances toward
him.
“Well, advise him to not to send his lapdogs to my private check-ups!” Stiles
answered.
“Your Majesty, I need to know.” Deaton said, almost pleading. Since he looked
really serious, the queen sighed. He bit his lips and looked around the room.
He actually wanted to say that yes, Peter had beaten him and choked him and did
all horrible things, but he hadn’t. Besides him being a bit rough he hadn’t
hurt him. Maybe this was the first time Stiles actually realized it: that Peter
hadn’t hurt him.
“No, no he didn’t.” he answered. “Why?”
“It’s a necessary question I needed to ask.” Deaton smiled, seemingly relieved
by the answer.
“It’s because he’s insane? So it’s true?” Stiles asked. The man opened his
mouth to say something, but in the end he just smiled.
“Something like that.” he answered at last with a slight nod of his head. “I
appreciate your help. I’ll be around if you need me, Your Majesty.” he offered
and Stiles scoffed.
“Why would I need the advisor of the Hales of all people?” he snorted, crossing
his arms as he watched Deaton leave. “To the gods…”
--
“I’m the king for one day and two people already oppose my orders.” Peter
started, his voice dripping with irritation. “My question is… do you have a
death wish?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he eyed Deaton from his
chair.
“I felt the need to ask the boy—“
“The queen.” Peter corrected and he heard Derek snort from the other end of the
table.
“I just felt the need to ask… the queen about his experiences, Your Majesty.”
Deaton finished choosing his words carefully. His heartbeat didn’t rise which
was his luck. “Because if he turns, he’ll become my responsibility too.”
“If the bite even turns him.” Cora remarked with a shrug, looking over to
Deaton too from the maps on the table.
It was maybe dangerous for all of them to be in one room, but Peter needed to
hear out both Derek and Cora about the fights which were still going on at the
borders. About the kind of fights only they alone could deal with. But when he
heard that Deaton visited Stiles without his permission he needed to talk to
the man too. Peter glared down at the table with the maps, thinking about how
one of his closest servants wasn’t as loyal as he should be. Deaton’s reasons
must have been to keep Stiles safe, but the boy was sharp, he might have gotten
suspicious about the strange questions.
“The queen is still human. No harm has been done to him, yet.” he stated in a
voice which trembled from anger. “As if I need more incompetent Betas around.”
“They might be weak, but they fight for you. They give their lives for you.”
Derek started and Peter slowly turned his head toward his nephew. His gaze was
piercing and his blue stare quickly changed to red, because it looked like his
puppy needed a bit of regulating. Again.
“Do you think this is really the time to be sentimental about our precious
Betas?”
Lately, Derek liked to challenge him. Not in the way as his new-found toy
Stiles, but in a way that might get dangerous for him and for their pack too.
Derek challenged his Alpha and Peter knew that he was growing and getting
stronger and on one of these days they will have to settle this. One day they
will have to settle who the Alpha is. As it was usual with werewolves.
Derek stood Peter’s crimson gaze a bit longer than last time, which was really
worrisome. But in the end he looked away, giving up the fight for now. Peter
wasn’t sure how long he can keep his status up, but Derek chose the worst time
to rebel, taking that they still need a few parts of the kingdom to take over
and it might get a bit more difficult with an unstable pack.
Their meeting was quick and fast as they discussed strategies and prepared for
the next few weeks. Then Peter had to attend his coronation.
Peter actually didn’t need that hours long coronation ceremony, but it was
necessary for the people to finally realize they’ve got a new king. It was
needed for his future as king, so people will know he’s on the throne
legitimately, which wasn’t exactly true. But officials were always a big deal
for humans.
Also, for Peter’s greatest surprise, Stiles didn’t attend the ceremony despite
his orders. So he decided to fetch him personally for dinner. Especially now
his queen decided to play hide-and-seek.
--
“How- how did you know I’m here?!” the queen of the HaleKingdom gasped and
Peter was almost angry that the boy’s first reaction wasn’t fear but utter
surprise. He stood by the entrance of one of the guard’s rooms. Judging by the
smell, it was Scott’s room. The two of them were sitting on the bed playing a
card game.
A. Card. Game.
Peter walked closer and Scott jumped on his feet. He didn’t have his sword by
his side, but he was still ready to tackle their current king for their queen,
and that was almost admirable. Almost. Peter smiled at him with the kind of
smile which was followed by him choking people to death.
“The birds chirped it.” the king answered in an almost playful tone. Stiles
pursed his lips, staring at Peter, and the man could pick up the scent of fear.
Finally. “You didn’t tend your duties this day and missed the coronation, too.
May I ask why?”
“I do how I please, I’m the queen.” Stiles said throwing the cards he was
holding toward Peter.
“I didn’t know acting like a brat is a queen’s task. You’re doing it absolutely
fantastic, darling.” Peter asked still with that lighter tone as he looked
around in the room. It was a simple living quarter with a cupboard, nightstand,
a basin and a bed. Nothing royal, and no wonder Stiles thought it was a good
place to hide; no one would have looked for him here. But Peter already knew
his scent and he could find him anywhere in the fortress.
“Why are you here, honey?” Stiles asked with a glare.
“I came here to fetch you for our dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You better work up an appetite soon or someone loses a limb.” Peter chuckled,
looking at Scott. The boy took in a sharp breath in anger. Oh, the boy was
strong, Peter thought and almost considered making him one of his Betas.
“I’m not-“
“Melissa was her name?” the king asked suddenly, shifting his gaze toward
Scott. That question made both of the boys silent. Stiles finally stood up from
the bed, frowning at Peter in disbelief. “Your gorgeous mother’s?”
“Yes… Your Majesty.” Scott answered and Peter knew he won this fight from the
way Stiles licked his lips.
“She’s a wonderful lady.” the king continued. “Such skillful hands, both of
them, and all those fingers…”
“Yes, yes we got it! I got it, oh my god.” his queen finally gave in and walked
past Scott, patting him on the shoulder. Peter smiled wider and offered his arm
mockingly and naturally, Stiles didn’t take it. They walked out without a word.
“You threatened to cut off her fingers if I wouldn’t come with you, that’s…
that’s… I don’t even know.” Stiles started when they left the servant’s
quarters, shaking his head.
“I told you I’ll deal with you, didn’t I?” Peter started as they walked past a
group of servants bowing to them. “Cutting of your limbs wouldn’t teach you,
but… cutting of others’ limbs would. I have a whole lot of people to choose
from.” he chatted and he could smell the despair on Stiles, yet the boy still
put up a brave face. Peter vaguely thought that emotions were indeed the
biggest weakness to anybody. Love, hate, these could be used against people and
Peter wasn’t afraid to use Stiles’ love for people against him.
“What’s marking?” Stiles asked suddenly.
“Carving your name into someone else’s skin with a knife, I suppose.” Peter
retorted helpfully.
“Deaton asked me if you marked me.” the boy continued and Peter had to close
his eyes for a second. He didn’t need Stiles spotting his eyes flashing from
anger on top of all things. Deaton and his blabbing mouth… “Was it about the
dagger? Was it because you’re insane?”
“I’m starting to feel violated here.” Peter sighed.
“Your- your dick was inside me and you feel violated?” Stiles gasped flailing
his arms. “You really are insane, your- your way of thinking is way messed up.”
“If I remember right you enjoyed having me inside you.” Peter smiled, tilting
his head toward the boy. What was a better distraction than teasing, after all?
The man reached out, grabbing the wrist of his queen, pulling him closer to
him. The boy took in a sharp breath and his fear was clear now. Peter smiled
and took a deep breath to enjoy that scent, but for his greatest surprise he
caught a hint of lust too. He thought it was natural; Stiles was still a young
boy and while not a virgin, still inexperienced. Despite his hate for Peter he
was still the first one who touched him in such a way. “You were riding me like
a whore last night, Stiles.”
“I didn’t…!” the boy hissed, trying to free his hand and Peter squeezed it
tighter.
“How about I’ll remind you of it tonight, hm?” the man asked, leaning closer to
the squirming boy.
“How about you go and find a real whore for that, huh?!” Stiles shouted.
“Oh, and make you jealous?” Peter teased and finally let the boy go, watching
with glee as he stumbled.
“Quite the opposite, I’d be relieved if I don’t have to take any of you, ever!”
the queen shouted so loud the walls echoed his words around them in the fire-
lit corridor. The king just smiled, eying the boy’s back as he hurried ahead.
He was almost adorable.
Their first dinner as King and Queen was actually a private dinner between them
in their chambers. The servants had cleaned up the ribbons, roses and petals
already and put fresh sheets on the bed. Peter could see Stiles’ utter disgust
as he was looking around the room as they were eating. Somehow, it was annoying
how the boy was loud even when he wasn’t talking. His expressions, his
movements; the way he moved were all so loud.
Peter actually didn’t punish Stiles that day; he was waiting. Letting the boy
think about all the dreadful things he could do to him was far more amusing to
watch than giving him an actual punishment.
--
Ever since his family died, Peter wasn’t fond of physicality. He didn’t like to
touch others and he absolutely hated it when anyone touched him. This way of
thinking wasn’t exactly handy for a werewolf, and he knew that. Thankfully
there hadn’t been situations where it was necessary to scent-mark anyone by
frequently touching them, therefore he didn’t think much about it.
Then he married Prince Stiles Stilinski and he had to show both humans and
werewolves that the boy was his. Humans were satisfied by a ring and a wedding,
but werewolves needed more; they needed scent. They needed Peter’s scent on
Stiles’ skin to approve Peter’s claim, even if it wasn’t exactly a claim he
wanted to make. He knew it was partly his fault for keeping Stiles alive for
the time being, but Peter never thought that scent-marking the boy would be
such a hustle.
“Get off me!” Stiles squirmed under his grip, out of breath. His cheeks were
pink from the struggle he had put up. Some pieces of carrots from the vegetable
soup were still in his hair from when Peter practically jumped at his throat
across their dining table during one of their heated arguments. He smelled of
soup, fear and despair. And yet he still put up a fight, he didn’t seem to give
up.
“Were you really thinking that your attitude won’t have consequences?” Peter
asked, squeezing Stiles’ hands so hard the boy cried out from pain. “My
patience isn’t endless, my queen.”
Stiles didn’t answer, just tried to free his legs from under Peter, struggling
for freedom, but of course he wasn’t a match for the man.
“Then do it! Do whatever you want, I don’t care anymore!” he hissed, arching
his back and Peter felt his body react. He hadn’t really felt this kind of
desire for someone else for a long time, and it now caught him so off guard
that he let Stiles free. The boy crawled away as far as he could, wheezing and
brushing the vegetables out of his hair. Peter had to swipe off a few pieces of
carrot from his own clothes. At least the scent-marking was done for the day…
“Do you really think I’d have my way with you and let you enjoy it too?” he
asked as he stood up from the floor, looking around the mess they had made. The
dining table was flipped over and all the food was scattered and ruined on the
floor. What a waste, Peter thought.
“Believe me, it isn’t a thing you should be afraid of.” Stiles scoffed as he
stumbled on his feet too, brushing his shirt off and Peter spotted how his
wrists were slowly turning red from the rough handling. For a second it flashed
before him where else he could abuse the boy like that. Stiles’ skin bruised so
easily and so prettily, Peter sometimes wished he would give more reasons to
hurt him.
“Stiles.” Peter started walking closer again, making the boy jump. “Did it ever
occur to you that… something might happen to your father?”
“What…?” the boy’s eyes widened, his lips parted and the king smiled again.
“An accident, maybe. A sudden fire.” he spoke and he could see the images flash
behind Stiles’ eyes, making his heart beat faster and his limbs shiver. “It
would burn for three days straight, with your father in the middle of it.”
“You wouldn’t…” Stiles started, but his voice broke so sweetly it sent a shiver
down Peter’s spine.
“Do you really think so?” he asked back in a low voice, watching the queen lose
more of his fighting spirit. Just like Peter wanted. “You missed my coronation,
you hit me in front of my men and you completely ignore any order I give you. I
think you deserve what would happen to him, Stiles, and it would be your fault
entirely.” As Peter was talking he could hear Stiles pulse rise and his teeth
rattled a little from the shiver that hit him.
“You wouldn’t…!” he repeated, but there was no power behind his words anymore.
“You do as I say without giving me the attitude and I might spare him.”
Stiles was silent for a while, but Peter was patient. He could see the boy
trying to choke his own pride down just to move his head in a nod. And it was
beautiful; watching Stiles’ inner struggle, smelling his despair and fear was
exciting. They were nearing the endgame where the boy finally breaks and when
Peter will have no interest in him anymore. For some reason knowing that
disappointed the man.
“Clean up then.” he said suddenly.
“What…?” the boy blinked a bit confused.
“I said, clean up.” Peter said motioning over the mess they’ve made. “And
tomorrow, you’re going to clean the great hall… alone.”
Stiles’ baffled gaze was absolutely adorable as he could only shake his head.
His parted lips were so inviting, somehow Peter had a hard time resisting the
urge to steal a kiss.
“Get to it. Or do you want to stay there like a scared deer all night?” he
asked, stepping back. Watching with satisfaction as the boy slowly walked back
to the mess and started cleaning it up.
Peter thought that with this they finally established the new rules.
 
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     Rape attempt and violence warning for this chapter!!!
     Betaed by Evy, any other mistakes are mine~
The rough material of the shirt was itching his skin, and he felt like the
clothes were weighing him down instead of covering his body. Servant clothes
were really different from the kind of fabrics Stiles was usually wearing, but
Peter insisted on him wearing this when he would clean the Great Hall. He
wouldn’t want to dirty his own, fine clothes after all, right?
“He’s seriously going to do this to you?” Scott asked when he spotted Stiles in
one of the servant’s clothes that morning.
“No, no he’s just joking Scott, because Peter Hale is such a clown.” Stiles
snorted.
He couldn’t believe it. Peter was getting worse day by day and Stiles felt like
losing to him every night when they spent their dinner together. Peter didn’t
sleep with him, not even in one bed with him, but sometimes touched him out of
the blue or manhandled him like he would be a child or comment on his father’s
health and it was starting to chip at Stiles’ strength. He felt weaker as the
days had gone by and it made him afraid of what’s coming. It wasn’t about
opposing Peter anymore, it was about surviving.
“I’m sorry, brother.” Scott sighed, taking a look at Stiles again. It was just
a rare sight to see a royal in such attire. “I’ll help, come on.”
“Scott, it’s an order that no one should help me.” Stiles started, sighing a
little tired as they were walking toward the Great Hall.
“I don’t care.” the guard shrugged and once again Stiles was grateful he had
such a friend with him. For a short moment he’d gotten scared Peter will take
Scott away too, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to do that. Not for now, at
least. “I’ve got a letter from my mother. She said she arrived safely in the
old capital and your father is well too.” Scott smiled a little and it lifted
Stiles’ spirits up a bit. His father was still alright, Scott’s mom still had
all her fingers and Scott was with him. If he was thinking about it, his
situation wasn’t as bad as he first thought. Also, the country was finally done
with war, which was the most important after all.
“Thank you, buddy.” he smiled at Scott.
They reached the great hall with all the cleaning supplies already prepared for
them.
“Wow, how thoughtful.” the queen snorted, looking around the huge place. The
long tables were set to stand next to the wall, letting the light of the spring
day hit the floor, brightening up the whole place. Yet, it was still cold and
empty. “Shall we get started then?” Stiles asked and got the nearest bucket,
holding it up for Scott. “Fetch me some water my fellow servant.”
“Stiles, they aren’t talking like that.” Scott rolled his eyes, but took the
bucket.
“Alright, shut up.” the boy snorted. “Was that better?” he asked, raising an
eyebrow. Scott just shook his head and turned on his heels to fill the bucket
with water. He left Stiles alone.
The queen sighed, looking around and wondered if cleaning a room actually was
better than attending his classes. Though it was debatable which was more
boring. At least Scott was there with him. Stiles absently took a broom and
started sweeping like he’d seen the servants do it, but he was sure when Scott
arrives he’ll scoff at how awful he is.
“His Majesty the Queen, Stiles Stilinski.” he heard the echoing voice from
behind him and turned to its source. Three servants were standing a few feet
away from him by the entrance where Scott had left. The queen had seen them
around a few times but never really talked to them. So it was strange they
addressed him in such a mocking way.
“Yes, that’s me.” Stiles frowned, straightening his back. Because no matter
what kind of clothes he was wearing, he was still the Queen of the Hale
Kingdom. And he didn’t like the look from these men as they were closing up on
him. “Do you wish to talk to me?” he asked refusing the urge to take a step
back.
“Yeah, yeah we wish.” one of them spoke again and Stiles immediately tensed his
neck at how offensive their behaviors were. “Do you enjoy being the Queen?”
Stiles blinked at the question, it wasn’t something he had expected.
“Excuse me?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Do you enjoy being the Queen and sucking cock for your benefit?” another one
asked, stepping closer. Stiles tried to back away but he bumped into someone.
Apparently there were four servants trying to gang up on him. They slowly
surrounded him and Stiles swallowed to try and not panic. All of them were
taller than him, but only a little older. They were young people who lost their
families in the war, Stiles realized. The king took in orphaned children as
servants to try and save them.
“How dare you speak to me in such foul language?” he asked between gritted
teeth, tightening his grip on his broom. They might have been more in numbers,
but he had learned to fight.
“I heard he was already on his knees the second Peter Hale arrived to the old
capital.” yet another laughed and his voice cut into Stiles like a knife. He
wasn’t… it wasn’t like that! “Who knew the biggest traitor was the son of the
king himself.”
“I’m not a traitor!” Stiles shouted. “I saved the country, I saved the people,
I saved you people!” he motioned toward them and they apparently took it as a
challenge, because the servant who was standing behind him grabbed his arm.
Stiles cried out and swiped the broom toward the nearest man, hitting him by
the side of his head. But at that the other two jumped on him, twisting his arm
back and taking his ‘weapon’ from him.
“Because of you the Hale dogs won’t give us a break.” Stiles heard one of them
hiss as they grabbed his hair and forced him on his knees. “You gave up your
country and abandoned your people, Your Majesty.”
“I did the right thing!” Stiles shouted just to have someone kick at his jaw.
He immediately felt the metallic taste of blood and he had to spit. He could
barely believe that people who were apparently loyal to the old king were
handling him this way. “I did the right thing, Peter Hale would have burned up
the whole country and you all with it!” he shouted, struggling against the arms
that were holding him down.
“Then that’s what the old and new gods have wanted.” the servant said. “Now let
me show you, how it is to suck something other than a royal cock.” Stiles
trashed around but once again he felt himself utterly weak against these
people. His legs seemed like they were made of lead as he knew what was coming.
But it wasn’t exactly their actions; it was their reasoning that made him
immobile. It was something he was constantly brooding about: if he did the
right thing, if they could trust in Peter to bring peace and build their
kingdom. And now, these people here called him out on it.
“Scott—Scott!” he shouted hoping his guard was nearby and he luckily didn’t
have to be disappointed. A chair hit one of the servants, knocking him out for
good. Scott arrived just in time. He had his sword drawn and pointed at the
group of servants.
“Let His Majesty go!” his hissed at them and Stiles felt their grip loosen.
Scott reached for him and helped him to his feet, still keeping his sword at
them. “Are you okay?” he asked Stiles quietly and for the first time the boy
couldn’t say yes. He was out of breath, and he had a death grip on Scott’s arm
as he turned back to face his attackers… and he felt something break inside
him. He was the queen and no one, absolutely no one should question him.
“No.” he wheezed out.
“I sent for the guards, they will put them in the dungeon for what they did.”
Scott said. “The king will know about it too.” he added, but Stiles didn’t
listen. He heard a ringing in his ears but not Scott’s words.
“I want them impaled.” he said as the guards arrived to shackle the servants.
“Your Majesty!” a few of the servants gasped and Scott turned his head toward
him in disbelief too.
“Without a trial…?” he asked quietly, but Stiles didn’t listen.
“What they did was high treason, the worst of all crimes. There is no need for
a trial.” Stiles heard himself say. “You’ll have three days to think about your
sin. On the pole.”
“Stiles…” Scott started, but the queen didn’t want to hear any plea, any
soothing word anymore.
“This afternoon.” he said, nodding the guards to lead them away. “And I shall
be there.” he added.
--
The time Peter got informed about what had happened to Stiles, the preparation
of the execution of the four traitors was already ongoing to his greatest
surprise. But he let it be. Apparently, the Queen personally handled their
matter. Usually it took a few days until they put the traitors to a trial, but
this time there was no trial. Stiles sentenced them to agonizing death, abusing
his powers to the fullest. It was actually something Peter didn’t expect from
him. He also was a bit disappointed that he wasn’t the one thinking about it:
using servants in such a splendid way. They could do the last of the damage
Peter wanted to do and once again he had to be reminded how humans were also a
kind of monsters themselves.
The king wasn’t looking at the unfortunate fellows on the pole during the
execution, but at his queen, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about what he’d
seen. The only color on his wife’s face was the huge bruise probably left on
him by his attackers. His eyes were empty as he was watching the suffering of
the men, but he didn’t see them. His mouth gave orders, but said nothing else.
Stiles was broken. He was shattered into pieces and in his current state Peter
felt like he was looking into a mirror.
Stiles looked and felt absolutely disgusting and it wasn’t just Peter who
noticed it. His personal guard, Scott, was standing by his side, tense and with
a sad expression, smelling heavily of guilt. He was confused over his queen’s
and friend’s acts and it was killing him inside. When Stiles sent him away for
the day he looked relieved and hurried away without a second thought to give
his place to the night guard.
“We had quite a hectic day, didn’t we?” Peter remarked as the servants placed
their dinner on the table. Stiles didn’t say anything, just eyed his dish. The
king spotted how all the servants were more careful and quieter around them
thanks to Stiles’ acts. It was amusing in a way. “Thank you, you can go.” Peter
sent everyone away then and started his meal.
His queen was still not moving a limb, sitting in his chair too quietly. It was
unusual of him, Peter wondered, because Stiles was never silent. He was always
talking, always moving, always doing something. Even when he wasn’t doing
anything he was loud. Sometimes he was so loud Peter couldn’t even hear those
other voices. But not this time.
“What exactly happened?” he asked looking up, absently eying the bruise on
Stiles’ jaw again and hating it wasn’t him who had done it.
“They were rude to me.” Stiles whispered. His words lacked something Peter
couldn’t exactly pin-point, but he could still feel it. “I showed them no one’s
rude to the queen.”
The king smiled and leaned back in his chair, eying his wife who was sitting
right across from him. Stiles Stilinski; all broken and cruel, just like Peter
himself was. Isn’t that a match made in heaven?
“I heard they called you a traitor for marrying me. That they said you pushed
the country into a deep pit.”
“Their language was far fouler.”
“I would have done the same.” Peter said lightly.
“What?” Stiles frowned and the king saw some of his older self peeking through
his eyes as he raised his gaze to meet his.
“I would have done the same, Stiles.” the man repeated. “They hurt you, forced
you on your knees and called you a traitor. It’s the worst sin they could have
committed. Their punishment met the depth of their acts, Stiles.”
The boy opened his mouth to say something, but in the end he decided against
it. Peter held his gaze, leaning forward a little.
“You’re not all that different from me.” he continued on his soft voice,
watching as Stiles’ realized that too. “If it comes to power and status, you’re
not afraid to show who is in charge. I like that.”
“Enough…” the boy muttered, looking away. He might have been broken, but Peter
could still step on the pieces.
“Maybe you’ve even killed before.” Peter threw it at the boy lightly but held
his breath when he heard Stiles’ heart skip a beat. “Have you killed before,
Stiles?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.
“Enough!” Stiles shouted.
Peter smiled amused. So the concept of murdering someone wasn’t alien from his
innocent queen. And Peter wasn’t exactly curious about any of that. Stiles was
broken and he held no more interest for him.
“Night, my queen.” he said quietly, standing from the table to leave. Stiles
let him go without any remark, without fighting. Because he had no more fight
in him. Peter wasn’t sure why, but the boy wasn’t as pretty broken as he had
imagined.
Peter spent the rest of the evening in his own room. Alone. Because he didn’t
need to be reminded of himself.
--
For the next few days Stiles refused to get out of bed or even eat anything.
Scott was standing by his door the whole day, every day. Hoping that one day
his friend will snap out of it, or at least eat something. Scott wrote to the
old king about the incident and about Stiles too, but the queen never read the
letter the king sent as an answer. It seemed like he gave up and Scott was sad
and angry at the same time. He was trying to talk to Stiles many times, but the
queen always sent him away. So the guard just stood by his door all day.
Deaton visited the queen on a few occasions too, bearing medicine and kind
words, but apparently nothing could heal the wounds of the heart. Stiles was
giving up and not many things were good for that kind of sickness, and Scott
felt more and more helpless each day.
Peter went to see the queen only once during these days, watching how he’s
slowly withering away, just like a flower. His cheeks lost their old colors,
his eyes weren’t looking at anything, just waiting for something. Probably for
death, Peter wondered.
As the king exited Stiles’ room and closed the door, he met with Scott’s glare.
Peter knew he blamed him, but fairly he had so little to do with Stiles’ choice
of killing those servants.
“You got everything you wanted.” he heard Scott’s voice as he attempted to
leave. “Why did you have to do this?”
“Do what exactly?” Peter sighed turning toward the guard with a sigh that
showed he had no time for small chit-chat. It just fueled the guard’s rage.
“Turning him like you.” Scott said with a hitch in his voice. Peter pursed his
lips, eying the guard with a tight smile.
“He always had the seed, Scott.” he started. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t my
fault.”
“You were pushing him all the time!”
“Yes.” Peter nodded. “But it really isn’t my responsibility he took a few
traitors down with him.” he said and turned. Even if it was probably his words
and Stiles’ weak mind was responsible of how he acted with those traitors.
Peter knew he was partly responsible, but not as much as Scott held him accused
for. In any other case he would feel indifferent over such a case, but this
time, he couldn’t help feeling extremely irritated over how things had worked
out. He preferred his toys more… stable. But apparently, fine things broke
faster.
--
The next day Peter debated whether to stop Stiles’ suffering and decided to
check on the boy. It was late at night when he was finally free from his duties
and took his way to the queen’s chambers, just to find that Scott was already
retreated to his room and there was only the night guard standing by the door.
Peter still entered the room, just to find Stiles’ bed empty. The man frowned
and looked around, but the room was empty and there was no sign of struggle or
any scent of blood. A glass of wine was sitting by the nightstand untouched,
but the fruits from Stiles’ dinner were missing. Peter could have left it at
that, but he still decided to follow the boy’s scent, curious of where he would
have gone after days of bed rest.
The scent led him up to the highest point of the castle, to the roof of the
keep. For a second Peter had the awful thought that Stiles might want to end
his misery with a jump, but what he saw was far from what he’d expected. His
queen was sitting on a pillow with the bowl of fruit next to him from his
dinner and was watching the sky. He was wearing his light coat over his
nightshirt in the slightly chilly spring night, but apparently the cold didn’t
bother him that much. As Peter took the last of the stairs’ steps, he looked up
at the sky too. Stars. Nothing else. He didn’t see what there was to look at.
He cast a glance at the few guards that were up that night and got frightened
looks in return. They weren’t afraid of only him, but of Stiles’ too. The point
he wanted to make with the execution was clear and everyone in the kingdom
understood it. No one will try to harm him for a while, no wonder he dared to
run around without a guard.
Peter sighed a little and walked up to the queen slowly. At the noise of his
steps Stiles turned his gaze from the stars toward him. It might have been the
moonlight but his face was paler than usual, and his eyes looked like he didn’t
sleep these days at all. Maybe he didn’t. Yet, he still looked more alive than
in his bed the last few days.
“The birds?” he asked in a hoarse voice, eying Peter slightly surprised.
“Yes.” the man nodded, walking next to him. Stiles just sighed and turned his
head back to the dark blue sky. His husband watched him for a while, then
turned his eyes up too. He vaguely wondered how Stiles was broken beyond repair
when he’d seen him a few days ago and tonight he looked determined. Just when
Peter gave up on him.
“I read a lot of books about the stars and the Moon.” Stiles started. “But I’m
still not sure what to believe of them, you know.”
His tone was tired, mature and a bit alien to Peter’s ears. He sighed, crossing
his arms.
“I have no interest in celestials.” he commented. “There are more important
matters right back on the ground.”
Stiles just sighed, looking down. He squeezed his fingers and bit his lower lip
as he was thinking about something. Peter eyed him and then decided to stay a
bit longer. He had no other duties that day after all and Stiles seemed like he
had things to say. Peter caught himself being curious of it.
“Can we talk?” Stiles started after a long silence, looking up at Peter. The
man just motioned to him to go on. “I…” the boy started, licking his lips
again. “I don’t want to be like you.” he said and took a shaky breath. “Because
I’m… I’m not like you, alright?”
Peter raised an eyebrow at the boy, but said nothing.
“I… won’t say I didn’t make a mistake, but I can’t do it back. It’s done.”
Stiles continued. “But I don’t want to set it as a trend.” he continued and
turned to Peter. “Can I ask you something?”
“You already did.” Peter answered shrugging with a smile. But then he nodded.
“Go on.”
“Do you want peace?” the boy asked and Peter’s smile disappeared. “Tell me,
Peter, do you want this country to live in peace?”
The king tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the boy who asked that
question. He asked seriously and he wanted an honest answer Peter wasn’t sure
he could give to him. He didn’t want peace, he wanted destruction of the people
who hurt his family; he wanted power over everyone. He wanted no one to
question his authority again… He wanted to challenge the gods. There was no
peace on that list.
“Yes.” he answered at last.
Stiles narrowed his eyes and Peter wasn’t sure he actually believed him. The
boy’s gaze was the same as on that night. On the night they spent together.
When he swore revenge on him. There was no death wish in his gaze anymore.
“Then I’ll stand next to you.” the queen started. “I- I married you to bring
peace to my country; to prevent more families being separated; to stop the
killings.”
“I’m working on that.”
“We’re gonna work on that!” Stiles snapped for Peter’s surprise. “I’m not your
pet, I’m not your slave, I-I’m your queen and I demand you to handle me as
such.”
“Is that so?” Peter asked, crossing his arms. He cocked his chin up, eying the
boy who turned into a man right in front of his eyes. “That means you’ll handle
me as your king.”
“I will.” Stiles nodded, looking down. “Because… I have to adjust my sails.” he
said quietly, mostly to himself, Peter wondered. The man decided that they are
done for that night, so he walked up to Stiles and held his hand out for him.
“Let me put you back to bed. If you’re still keen on being my queen, you need
to rest.” he told him. Because if the boy was serious then he won’t be able to
achieve being a leader in looking the way he did in that moment. Stiles eyed
his hand for a while, but after a long moment he took it and pulled himself up
on his feet.
“As if I could get any sleep.” the queen said quietly. “It’s not as inviting as
it was before.” he muttered and Peter knew what he meant. Stiles might have
watched the execution with a blank expression, with eyes that held no emotions,
but somewhere very deep inside he cried together with those men, he died
together with them. And he heard their screams and curses every time it got too
silent. Peter was familiar with the sensation, awfully familiar.
He was looking at the boy’s face, lingering on those dark circles under his
eyes, then stepped closer to him.
“How about some distraction for tonight then?” he offered, just to meet Stiles’
confused gaze. “You’ll know what I mean when we get back.” Peter said and
pulled on the queen’s arm a little. Not roughly, but strong enough to sign him
they should go. And Stiles nodded, walking with him.
They were walking next to each other, hand in hand and Peter felt strangely
confident like this. He was sure the boy was honest with his confession and he
laid his trust in him. They weren’t just king and queen; they were the King and
Queen, the rulers of the country.
Arriving back to their room, Peter guided Stiles to the bed.
“Sit down.” he told him softly and when the boy did so, he walked to the
nightstand and pulled out the drawer. He retrieved a small little bottle, which
was used to put medicine in and opened it. He poured some wine into Stiles’
cup, then added the contents of the small flask to it.
“What’s that?” he heard Stiles ask quietly as Peter took the cup and turned
toward him.
“You know what this is.” he told him and handed over the wine. “It will make
you relaxed.” This is how he presented what kind of distraction he was thinking
of. Stiles was actually free to refuse Peter’s offer and the man wasn’t sure he
won’t do it. After all, he swore loyalty, but not love. After a few seconds of
hesitation however, Stiles reached for the cup.
As Peter held the wine out for him, Stiles realized what kind of distraction he
had in mind. He wondered if he was ready for it. If he was ready to give his
body to Peter again. As he was thinking about it, he realized something. While
he could offer himself to Peter, then meanwhile he can use Peter just the same.
It was just acts of the flesh, nothing more, and Stiles had to admit that the
first time wasn’t worse as any other first time out there. Peter didn’t hurt
him in bed.
So he reached out for the cup, agreeing to welcome Peter into his bed once
again. He heard the approving hum of the man as he pulled the drink to his
lips. He raised his gaze to Peter just to see him pull out his dagger, place it
on the pillow, then slowly start to undress. Stiles barely swallowed one little
gulp from the wine, but he felt himself blush, because he was more occupied
with the man’s bare chest than the dagger by his side. Something strange hit
Stiles about it once again, a feeling he couldn’t quite get. Peter looked just
like he remembered: well built, with soft skin and with light freckles covering
his chest, shoulders and arms. Something probably only Stiles knew and that
made his heart skip a beat for some reason. Then Peter’s blue eyes met his and
Stiles realized he was staring frozen on the spot.
“Do you like it?” Peter asked with a half-smile, stepping closer. Stiles just
snorted and gulped down the wine quickly. Yes, it tasted just as sweet as on
his wedding night. He put the cup back on the nightstand, then wiped his sweaty
palms on his trousers, licking his lips. The next thing he knew was that Peter
stepped to him and put his hands on his thighs to spread them. As he slowly
leaned closer and descended between Stiles’ knees his scent got stronger. It
was a musky scent, mixed with copper, sweat and leather along with Peter’s own
scent. It hit the boy a little how he could tell that after only one night of
being together, but he tried not to think about it too much.
Stiles once again felt like prey in the mouth of it’s predator but he tried to
swallow that feeling down. He was here because he agreed to it and because he
wanted distraction of the awful images that haunted him these days and nights.
When he felt Peter stroke his thighs and reaching for the string of his
trousers, Stiles took in a sharp breath. As the man’s fingers disappeared under
his long shirt, slowly untying the string and popping open the buttons, his
fingers sometimes brushed against Stiles’ skin. And every time the boy
shivered.
“Your hands…” Stiles started suddenly and without really thinking about it he
reached to take Peter’s hands in his to look at them. “They are… soft.” he
muttered thoughtfully. Then he looked up just to see Peter’s slightly alarmed
expression.
“Soft.” the man repeated, trying to sound mocking, but Stiles didn’t miss the
slight tremble.
“As if you’ve never fought with a sword in your life.” the boy continued. “I
know how a warrior’s hand looks and this isn’t like that.” he spoke softly,
thinking about his father’s rough hands.
“Are you saying I’m not a warrior?” Peter asked, tilting his head up to gaze
into Stiles’ face. The boy looked back at him with a thoughtful expression.
“I’m just saying…” he started. “It’s strange.” he muttered and Peter chuckled
as he freed his hands and slipped them into his partner’s trousers.
“You think too much.” he told the boy and Stiles twitched when he felt Peter’s
fingers around his sensitive spot once again.
“Kiss me.” he swallowed, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. The man looked
up at Stiles again.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice which echoed in
Stiles’ chest and not in the bad way. It warmed his body up.
“Are you deaf?” Stiles scoffed softly, but then licked his lips. He wished that
blush hadn’t just crept on his face. “It calms me down.” he explained, and at
the end of his sentence Peter was already brushing his lips against his in a
soft kiss. Stiles involuntarily gave a low moan and tilted his head for better
access. His tongue darted out to lap at Peter’s lower lip. When Peter parted
his lips, Stiles took in a sharp breath as he licked into his mouth, slipping
his hand into Peter’s hair. It was an adult kiss, something that did things to
him. His body reacted in the sweetest way and Stiles welcomed it. He closed his
eyes and rubbed his tongue against Peter’s before the man decided to deepen the
kiss. He licked at the roof of his mouth, causing Stiles to jerk once again. He
felt sweat breaking on his forehead already as Peter and the drug were working
on his body.
“Your reactions are quite amusing.” Peter commented and squeezed Stiles a
little.
“Shut up…” the boy sighed and let go of a trembling breath when Peter’s lips
slipped to his jaw, tracing small kisses toward his neck. Stiles realized these
things were missing from their wedding night. The kisses, the touches… It also
made him aware that he can see and touch Peter like this. So he tilted his head
and slipped his hands down the man’s chest. It was so strong and huge and while
Peter’s hands weren’t a warrior’s, his body definitely was. But something still
bugged Stiles about it.
“Scars…” he whispered to himself. “You don’t have scars…” he repeated, stroking
Peter’s chest with his hands. At that moment the man took his wrists and pulled
them off of himself. His eyes were strange as he tilted his head to look at
Stiles again.
“What about it?” he asked, but the queen knew there was something about it.
Peter’s reaction made him unsure about pressing the matter just yet.
“Nothing.” he said, swallowing and leaning in to kiss the man again. Peter then
urged Stiles’ clothes off and nudged him further up the bed.
“Do you want to talk, or do you want to think of sweet nothings?” the king
asked him as he pressed his hips against’ Stiles’, watching the boy arch in
need.
“I don’t want to think of anything.” Stiles wheezed, rubbing his face and
watching Peter from under half closed eyes. Peter smiled down at him and kicked
his own trousers off and when he was back, hovering over the boy, Stiles could
see the lust in his eyes. He wanted him, he wanted to eat him up like the big
bad wolf in the fairy tale. And Stiles didn’t mind. It was exactly what he
wanted: being devoured and destroyed so he didn’t have to think of anything
else.
Peter leaned down and placed a kiss on his collarbone. Stiles sighed softly,
closing his eyes for just a second at the sensation. It spread through his
body, but he couldn’t exactly get used to it when he felt those lips kiss all
over his chest and he cried out when a tongue licked at his nipple. The drug
was working fast in his system, making everything better than it was and
rushing his heart toward something sweet and mind-numbing. He felt Peter’s
fingers on his stomach, stroking along his sides and then dropping between his
legs, squeezing his hardness.
“I’ll show you something.” Peter’s voice rumbled against the skin of his chest
and Stiles wanted to ask what he was talking about. Then his eyes shot open and
his back arched from the bed when he felt the man kiss at the top of his cock.
“You’ll like it.” he heard Peter say and tilted his head to look down at the
man who pulled his lip into that awful smirk right at his erection.
“To the gods…” Stiles swallowed and watched as Peter took a huge lick at his
shaft and his toes curled. A low chuckle shook him as he fisted his hands in
the sheets and he had to realize that Peter was enjoying this. He was enjoying
putting Stiles through such misery and the boy didn’t mind. This is exactly
what he wanted. “More…” he heard himself say and Peter licked at him once again
before completely abandoning him. “No, no what are you doing…!” Stiles squirmed
and tilted his head to see where Peter had gone. The man was searching for
something in the nightstand drawer again, and when Stiles recognized the small
jar from their wedding night, he calmed down a bit.
“Is that…?”
“Don’t ask useless questions, Stiles.” Peter said a bit out of breath as he
found his place between Stiles’ legs again. The boy watched as he coated his
fingers with the slippery thing and couldn’t suppress his shiver. He knew what
that thing did and what might happen and his body was anticipating it.
Peter leaned down, kissing his cock again and then did something Stiles so
wasn’t expecting from him. He slipped him past his lips and sucked on the tip
and Stiles felt like losing his mind.
“Oh dear—god..!” he panted and squirmed and Peter placed his hand on his waist,
pushing him against the bed to stop him from slipping out of his mouth.
Meanwhile he nudged Stiles legs apart and teased his entrance with one finger.
Soon, Stiles felt Peter’s finger inside him buried to the hilt and it didn’t
feel as invasive as first time. Maybe because he was in very good hands, or
lips. Peter slowly worked him with his fingers and with his mouth too. He took
him deeper and deeper, sucking on his hardness and swirling his tongue on the
underside of it.
“You’re… going to kill me…” Stiles panted and reached out to slip his fingers
into Peter’s hair. It was so strange being able to touch the man as such, in an
intimate way. But not unpleasant at all. As Stiles touched him, he stopped what
he was doing and looked up at the boy. The queen frowned and tilted his head to
look at Peter who was staring at him with an unreadable expression.
“Something’s wrong?” Stiles asked quietly, but the only answer he got was Peter
crawling up over him and covering his mouth with his. Stiles welcomed it and
his own taste with it. Though he couldn’t help his cry when Peter added a
second finger, and worked him more and more open.
“How could I go to whores when you’re the tightest for me?” he heard Peter
whisper against his ear, his stubble brushing against sensitive skin. Stiles
just gasped out a ‘shut up’, trying to adjust to the stretching as fast as he
could.
Peter entered him without any warning and Stiles winced and tears filled his
eyes at the sensation. His whole body tensed up and he needed a few seconds to
catch his breath.
“Wait, just a second…” Stiles hissed, squirming a little to find a comfortable
position and for his greatest surprise Peter stopped moving. The boy swallowed,
licked his lips and opened his eyes. When he did that, he met Peter’s blue
stare and he realized this is indeed different from their first night together.
This felt different and Peter was looking at him. It made Stiles a bit nervous
and his stomach dropped, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was a bad feeling.
Before he knew it he slipped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, realizing how
hot the man’s body was. He stroked his skin over his shoulders and a little
down toward his back and Peter let out a soft sigh.
“Do you like it?” Stiles couldn’t help ask, tilting his head to look into
Peter’s face. He didn’t get any answers, but the king’s expression told him to
shut it immediately. It wasn’t scary, but Stiles bit in his lips for a second.
Peter then took his hands from around his shoulders and pushed them down the
bed roughly.
“Wait…!” Stiles swallowed, but he winced when the man snapped his hips against
him not softly at all.  He buried himself deep inside him without stopping and
it knocked all the air out of the boy’s lungs. He parted his lips, gasping,
panting and squirming as Peter pulled out just to slap back in. It hurt, it was
rough and Stiles was laying there helpless as the man was still holding his
arms down and yet he couldn’t help welcoming it. It was because he was familiar
with it; he knew it will get better.
Gasping out Peter’s name, Stiles threw his head back as the man set a steady
and fast rhythm. He felt the man pressing his nose and lips against his exposed
neck, his goatee scratching against his skin, leaving a burn mark. Peter took a
deep breath before flicking his tongue over the skin. Stiles moaned and Peter
changed his angle and the boy saw stars.
“God…” he called out as he put his thighs around Peter’s hips to urge him on
again for the same angle and he wasn’t disappointed. With every movement of the
king he couldn’t breathe and his vision doubled. Stiles felt like he was really
going to die. “Please- Aah!” he groaned at the same time as Peter let go of one
of his arms to grab onto something else.
He heard Peter whisper against his ear and Stiles came in the next moment. His
body tensed up and his toes curled as release hit him like thunder, making him
buck up into Peter’s thrusts and take everything. He rode himself on the waves
of pleasure, moaning loudly, calling the new and old gods to help him.
Somewhere in the middle of his orgasm Stiles felt Peter’s hand tremble, and his
body going out of rhythm. His breath picked up and became ragged as his thrusts
grew more powerful. His release didn’t have any madman in it like on their
first night. While it was rough and violent and Stiles was sure he’d bruised
his arm again at how tight he was holding him down, he wasn’t afraid. Not like
before.
--
Peter came to his senses when he heard a scream. His body jerked and his eyes
shot wide open. It was dark, silent and warm. Too warm. He needed a few seconds
to realize he’s not alone. His nose was pressed against Stiles’ naked chest and
one of the boy’s arms was thrown over his shoulder. Peter also noted that he
had a possessive hand over the queen’s waist.
They were practically cuddling.
Peter almost threw up as he was slowly pulling away from the boy. He lost a
part of the warmth he was feeling but he welcomed the sudden chill as a hit to
get him back to his senses. He never meant to fall asleep together with Stiles,
let alone cuddling with him. It wasn’t his style and while the sex didn’t seem
to be that bad, the cuddling still wasn’t on his list. He groaned sleepily and
sat up, looking out of the window and watched as dawn was breaking the darkness
on the horizon. This wasn’t like him.
He turned his head when he felt Stiles move, pulling the covers over himself
when he felt the loss of warmth too. The boy was half awake and Peter had the
impossible urge to reach out and run his fingers through his hair and tell him
to go back to sleep. Instead he fisted both of his hands, eying the boy. Stiles
didn’t invite him back, but didn’t send him away either. He had gone back to
sleep.
Peter took it as a cue to leave.
 
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     Violent werewolf ahead...! Blood and all the things ensue.
     Betaed by Evy, any other mistakes are mine~
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                        
 
The Hales were staring at him as if he had two heads. But Stiles most
definitely was still himself and he hoped his lunch hadn’t stained his tunic
that day. But he looked down to check. Just in case. He told Peter that he’s
going to stand by his side and it meant he had to be informed about everything
that was going on in the kingdom and who knew more about that than the Hales
right now?
“What?” he asked when he found himself as clean as the late spring day.
“Uh… Why are you here again?” Derek spoke up first, and cast a confused glance
at Peter too. They were standing over the table, looking at the maps Cora and
Derek had brought back about the armies’ positions; talking about their next
strategy. It was a private Hale meeting and now Stiles was standing at the door
as if he was invited.
“I’m here to see how our armies are doing.” Stiles said, walking into the room
next to Derek to look at the maps too. Scott was walking behind him, but he
stopped by the door, closing it.
Cora raised a surprised eyebrow and looked at Peter too.
“I thought this is a private meeting.” she said, truly wanting an explanation
of this.
“It is.” Peter nodded with an amused expression as he was eying Stiles. “I
don’t remember inviting you.”
“Well too bad, since I’m in this circle now too.” the queen snorted, motioning
around. “Taken that these men are my men too.” he added, pointing down at the
reports.
“They are the kingdom’s.” Cora corrected him amused and Stiles narrowed his
eyes at her. She probably wasn’t a witch, but she was definitely related to
Peter with that attitude.
“And who am I, a jester?” Stiles snorted. “So what do we got?” he asked, but
then Derek blocked his view of the maps.
“We got this, you go and do your… queen duties.” he told him and Stiles
snorted.
“Well these are my duties, you know. To make sure that our men aren’t
sacrificing their lives for something selfish or useless. We still have rebels
by the countryside, don’t we? They could drain our strength from something far
more important. The neighboring countries might decide to act now that the
kingdom is still adapting to the new regime.”  he said.
“That’s not likely.” Peter started sharply. “We could work up a good
reputation.”
“And that will so come in handy when you will be ridiculed by some rebels at
the borders, yes.” Stiles frowned at him and Peter stopped smiling. “Here, you
can take these troops on the East to go around and join forces with them from
the North.”
“That’s not good.” Derek snapped immediately. “We’ll end up with two weak
troops, while we need one big and strong one.”
“But they won’t expect them from the North, it’s-“ Stiles started but Derek
shook his head obviously not wanting to hear anything he had to say.
“Why won’t you go already, you’re not needed here.” he told the queen. “We can
take care of this!”
“Derek.” Peter started and walked around him to get between Stiles and his
nephew. “You’re still talking to the queen.”
“That’s right, you should practice some respect—“
“And you.” Peter turned to Stiles, sighing a bit frustrated. “You leave right
now. I’ve dealt with worse than this incident. Your help will be considered,
but not right now, Stiles. Leave.”
Stiles could only gape at them. He looked around the room, just to meet Peter’s
and Derek’s annoyed gaze with Cora’s amused one. At least someone’s having a
blast out of this. The queen took a deep breath and shook his head at them.
“I’ll be back.” he promised and turned to leave. He shut the door as hard as he
could on his way out, but it did little to calm him down. He wanted the same
respect as Peter but he realized he will have to work for it with the Hales.
“Can you believe this?!” he huffed, turning to Scott who was walking with him.
It was already a few days since Stiles was finally getting out of bed and
attending to his classes and duties but Scott wasn’t really talking to him ever
since. Apparently he was still having sour feelings of what Stiles had done and
the boy knew it won’t be easy to gain back Scott’s trust.
“Scott…” he tried but the guard didn’t answer to him. “Please, just… talk to
me. A grunt, a yell, just… something.” Stiles sighed, stopping in his tracks
and turning toward his guard. “Please.” Stiles pleaded again, stepping closer.
Scott avoided his gaze, pursing his lips tightly, clearly having a hard time
ignoring Stiles.
“Alright, then I will have to sing until you decide talk to me again.” the
queen started and cleared his throat to start on the kingdom’s hymn. At the
first few sounds Scott grabbed his arm to silence him.
“Anything but the singing…” he said quietly, shaking his head.
“Scott, you’re back!” Stiles exclaimed and put his arms around his friend.
“Stiles…” the boy sighed, not returning the hug.
“You’re still angry at me?”
“You killed… You killed those people.” the guard said. “I know what they did to
you, but… I don’t think they deserved what you brought to them.”
Stiles listened quietly and pulled back when it was sure Scott won’t hug him
back. He eyed the face of his friend for a while, swallowing. Then he turned
and started walking, motioning to the other to follow him.
“I can’t undo this, Scott.” he started after a while, eying the ground under
his slow steps.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to do it again.” Stiles added quietly. “But it’s a part of me
now, you know. It will affect me and now I have to live like this. This is who
I am now and… and you know, if you’re not comfortable with this, you can always
leave.”
“What?” Scott frowned, tilting his head to look into the queen’s face.
“If you’re not comfortable serving me anymore, I can send you back to my
father’s side.” Stiles wanted to say it with confidence, but his voice cracked
in the middle of that sentence. After all, he wasn’t just sending his guard
away, but his friend too. With Scott missing from next to him he didn’t know
how he will even manage, but now he will have to. He has to work on keeping
Peter at bay, and establishing a strong kingdom so maybe he won’t even have
time missing Scott… Yet, he felt it would be easier with him by his side, but
he can’t actually force him. He didn’t want to force anyone ever.
“You’re sending me away?” Scott asked quietly.
“If you want to go, you’re free to do so.” Stiles nodded and looked down
because he felt like something was stabbing his chest. But it was just his
heart breaking in two.
Scott didn’t answer as they were walking. Stiles was leading them to the
library through long corridors, passing servants who were hurrying to get
everything done for dinner. After the executions life finally crept back inside
the walls of the Beacon Fortress and the people finally moved on. Though there
was still a lingering fear of the royal couple and Stiles didn’t mind. It was a
reputation and he had to keep it up.
“I’ll stay.” Scott said suddenly. The queen stopped in his tracks before they
entered the library and turned to him.
“Wh… Are you sure, I mean… I don’t even regret what happened.” he said, wanting
to know what Scott accepted.
“I know.” The boy nodded, not turning his gaze away from Stiles. “I’m not
alright with it, I never will be. But you’re my friend and I wanna stay with
you as long as I can.” he said determined and Stiles’ knees went weak at those
words. He felt so happy and relieved he could cry. But instead he just bit his
lower lip, nodding.
“Thank you… Thank you.” he said, rubbing his eyes from the dust. Totally from
the dust.
--
The celebration of spring’s end and the beginning of summer was actually
connected to the old gods. But the tradition was so popular the people were
still celebrating it. They thanked the gods for all the food the spring had
brought and they prayed for good weather in the summer without too much
drought. In the last five years the celebrations weren’t as happy as they could
be because of the war. But this one seemed like a blast.
Except they were living in a fortress and it wasn’t exactly suited to welcome
too many people. The old king of course threw a huge celebration in the old
capital and Stiles wished he could be there, but Peter forbid him to go. He had
to spend the Summer’s First Day in Beacon Fortress. He was terribly angry about
that, but Scott said they could still have a good time. So Stiles tried to keep
himself to that too. They might not celebrate as huge as the people in the old
capital, but they can still feel good and welcome summer as she deserves it.
There might not have been too many people in the fortress for the celebration,
but it seemed to be enough. This was the only celebration where the knights
didn’t have to prove their virtues on the back of a horse, but in senseless
drinking. There was good food on the tables of the great hall and more wine to
accompany it. Stiles decided not to pass on either of them this time.
The queen and his personal guard took their share in the festivities.
Practically, they were eating all day and started the drinking by dinner on the
great dance. The Great Hall was filled with people and a few men were playing
the songs of the new gods about summer and the summer feasts.
“What is it Your Majesty, you’re out of shape?” Scott teased his friend when
Stiles stumbled a little in his twirls.
“You wish! I was always better in dancing than you.” Stiles bit back laughing
as he skipped to his next partner in the roundelay. Actually laughing. He had
no idea when was the last time he was laughing this much. His face was already
hurting from how much he was smiling and grinning that day.
“Don’t you want to take a break?” Scott asked when the band was done with the
song and took a moment to refresh themselves.
“Never!” Stiles shook his head as he accepted yet another cup of wine from his
servant. It was actually good to let go a little without worrying about Peter.
The king had been present too, but he was more occupied with his new laws and
regulations and all the paperwork that was coming with it. Stiles wanted to
peek inside those letters too, but Peter kept them as far from his queen as he
could and that was pretty annoying. But this day the boy decided to turn his
attention somewhere else, namely to the celebration and that he was finally
having his share of the wine.
The bards started to play the new song, but the people didn’t start to dance.
Stiles gave his cup away and looked around what had happened, just to spot
Peter walking toward them. He was seemingly done with his boring paperwork and…
wanted to dance? Stiles raised an eyebrow at Scott in a silent question.
Somehow he couldn’t imagine their king would do such things as dancing.
Peter stepped to them and held out his hand for his wife. Stiles hesitated, but
in the end he reached for Peter. Scott bowed to them slightly and moved away.
If the royal couple was dancing, no one could occupy the dance floor until they
gave permission. Even if Stiles was slightly drunk and his spirits were high,
he was still nervous when Peter laid a soft butterfly kiss on his fingers for
his dance.
“Do you know this song, my queen?” Peter started, pulling Stiles closer to him.
“I… no, no I don’t.” the boy answered, licking his lips nervously, eying the
man. It was already dark outside and it was nearing midnight. The torches of
the Great Hall were giving such a dreamy light to the place as if making
everything softer. Peter’s features and even his glance weren’t as sharp or
menacing as Stiles expected. His blue eyes were practically glowing in the
warm, orange lights.
“It’s the Song of the Summer.” Peter said in his low voice which rumbled
through the queen’s chest as they were standing there. “It’s the tale of the
summer. How the ancient gods created the season to mock the winter.” The king
spoke and finally took the first steps of his dance, holding Stiles’ hand
firmly.
The queen took a sharp breath. They were never playing the ancient songs in
court anymore and he had to wonder why, because they sounded beautiful. His
lips parted as he was listening to it and somehow it brought a kind of
melancholy with it that made his heart ache. He looked up at Peter, just to see
the man smile. Not smirk, not mock or frown, but smile and Stiles stumbled a
little.
What was happening, he wondered. As they were dancing he was practically
waiting for Peter’s hand and his heart fluttered every time the man put his arm
around his waist. Stiles felt like those lost souls in the tales who were
longing for their lovers from across the sea. But this wasn’t the sea and he
wasn’t lost. Was he? He was getting dizzy from the ache in his chest, it didn’t
come from the music anymore, but from the way Peter was looking at him. Had he
gotten enchanted?
Either way, the boy didn’t remember when his lips pulled into a smile, but he
caught himself smiling at Peter when their dance ended with the song. His chest
was feeling sore, but a kind of giddiness got him and he felt his cheeks blush
from the dance.
“I shouldn’t have let you drink.” Stiles heard Peter’s soft voice and he looked
up at him.
“As if you can tell me what to do.” he snorted, but his tone was more amused
than annoyed. “You didn’t dance with me on our wedding.” he remarked, just
realizing it.
“I doubt you were letting me touch you like that on that day.” Peter raised an
eyebrow and guided Stiles back to their tables. The boy let him, squeezing back
his hand strangely fondly. It was true. On the day of their wedding Stiles
wanted to strangle him, not dance, and now look at them. Stiles wondered if he
was giving up.
They sat back down to their table, and the people on the dance floor gave space
for the group of firedancers who had come to the fortress just for this
occasion. It was tradition that on every Summer Celebration there must be
firedancers to bring the heat of the summer along. Stiles always loved to watch
them and there had been a short time when he had wanted to be one. Then he
realized that fire can burn you. He preferred to just watch the dancers from
then on.
In the middle of the performance Peter slowly stood from next to him, probably
to leave. Stiles blinked at him confused and wondered if he should follow him.
In the end he hurried after the king.
“You should at least say good night!” he said when he could catch up to Peter.
The man turned with a slight surprise on his face.
“After just one dance you’re unusually demanding.” he remarked amused and
stepped to Stiles. The boy flushed from anger. He didn’t want to fight, not on
this day.
“I was just trying to teach you some manners.” he sighed, his gaze dropping on
Peter’s lips. Why. Why did he do that. Why would he look at the man’s lips. As
if expecting a kiss. Why would he expect something like that?! Just because
their last time in bed wasn’t that awful, or because Peter’s touches were warm
or when they were dancing Stiles’ heart was beating like it wanted to run away?
Or because Peter was looking at him in the same way?
Stiles gasped softly when he spotted his king eying him with the same half
lidded eyes. They were on the corridors by the Great Hall with only a few
guards around and the only light was the light of the torches from the Great
Hall. It was almost like they were meeting in secret. Stiles licked his lips
and finally leaned in to kiss his husband.
For the queen’s greatest surprise Peter let him. Their kiss was soft and tasted
slightly of wine and something sweet Stiles hadn’t tasted before. The man’s
stubble was brushing against his chin as he tilted his head to press his lips
more against Peter’s. Then a hand sneaked on his neck, cupping the back of his
head. The king’s tongue swiped over his lower lip and Stiles felt slight shame
over how quickly he opened his mouth for him. A strong tongue slipped past his
lips, rubbing against his own, inviting it into a kind of dance that made his
knees weak.
Peter kissed him like he really wanted him and Stiles said yes. And that scared
them both, because when the noise from the Great Hall got louder they broke the
kiss as if they were doing something forbidden. Stiles knew he swore loyalty to
Peter, but he was still the enemy and he shouldn’t kiss the enemy…
The king dropped his hand from his neck and the boy shivered from the loss of
warmth. Licking his lips, he raised his gaze to meet with Peter’s again, but
the man already turned to leave. Stiles just realized he was out of breath and
that his cheeks were definitely blushing from something other than the wine. He
watched Peter disappear in the dark corridors, like what had just happened was
only a dream. Maybe it really was. All Stiles knew was that it left him
extremely confused and he wasn’t sure he was ready for anything like this…
--
Peter was sure that when he became king the voices will stop; the voices will
die out and leave him at peace. The voices. They indeed died out at first, he
could hear the silence at times but then the voices and the screams came back
again, loud death screams. He could smell the burning flesh and feel the
desperation and fear that engulfed him together with the flames.
For a while he could use the voices and the images as an anchor. It kept him
grounded; his pursuit for revenge made him keep his leftover sanity and kept
him from going completely mad under the full moon’s spell. But he felt the
tugging in the back of his mind stronger and stronger each night. For some
reason his anchor wasn’t working anymore. It frustrated him because if he was
proven to be unable to tend to his Alpha duties, Derek will have all the right
to tear his throat out. Well, if he can before Peter tears him into pieces. It
was a fight that was overdue for almost five years now and it left them both on
the edge. Peter could convince Derek to help him with taking over the kingdom,
but now that they were the royal family that promise had been fulfilled. Derek
was waiting for the opening Peter would give him to take him out.
Peter knew he will have to fight with his family again to strengthen his
powers, but it seemed a bit difficult when the damn voices were screaming
inside his head everyday and night and the full moon was creeping up on him and
he had a loudmouth wife who had to be kept out of private Hale matters. He
didn’t even realize when he snapped. His wolf just took over that night and the
screams were louder than before and the moon crawled on his skin worse than
usual.
He gave in the urge to howl, but it wasn’t for his pack. It was for everyone to
stay away because he’s out for blood tonight; and ran. He wanted to see trees
and grass and the sky, but all he saw were the frightening walls of the
fortress and lit torches. He was trapped. He must have been trapped; he
thought, and it made him mad. No, he won’t be burned alive. Not again. Peter
roared and slammed his monstrous hand against the nearest torch.
There were screams and yells around him or inside his head, he had no idea and
he didn’t care. He was too far gone to care. He started running and that moment
he felt pain shoot into his arm. Someone bit him, judging by her smell, it was
Cora.
Peter snarled at the other wolf, swinging his arm to get rid of her. She wasn’t
any match for him, she was small and weak, but with a strong bite. But it was
useless as Peter smashed them both into the nearest wall, forcing Cora to let
go of him. The next moment arrows shot past his ears and he turned to meet the
guards. They didn’t shoot anymore but turned and ran. Peter pursued them with a
loud growl.
Derek attacked quick and unexpected. He could hide so Peter didn’t pick up his
scent until the last moment and it was already too late. Derek pounced on his
back,bit into his neck and attempted to take out a big chunk of flesh. Peter
saw red when the scent of his own blood filled his nose and swayed his arms
around to drag the other wolf off his back.
Peter was twice Derek’s size, but he was unpredictable and blinded and deaf by
his insanity. Derek was more tactical; despite Peter’s crazy behavior he knew
how to attack him. And Peter knew that. The pain momentarily brought him back
to his senses and he started running away, with Derek still biting at the back
of his neck. Then he spotted a window and jumped; falling from their tower to
the fortress grounds. Peter tried to angle his body to slam Derek into the
ground first.
The Alpha’s plan worked, because the moment they hit the dirt Derek let him go,
spitting out a few of his teeth. The impact also took effect on Peter; his
vision doubled and his body didn’t move as he wanted it to. He spotted his
nephew’s body not far away and he decided to end it here and now. He roared and
made his way toward him.
Then there were the screams again. And the fire and flesh burning and Peter
shook his head, looking around. The house was collapsing around him and he was
trapped and all of them were going to die. He roared, feeling his lungs burn
with the hot air. He trashed around, trying to free himself, trying to run, but
there was nowhere to go. The windows and doors were sealed with mountain ash
and they couldn’t get out. They couldn’t get out.
A stabbing pain dragged Peter back to where he really was. A spear was piercing
through his shoulder and it hurt. It was coated in wolfsbane and it took its
effect the moment it went through the wolf’s skin. Peter howled and looked over
his attacker with a hazy vision. It was Scott. He was holding the spear with
all his strength, determined to stop the monster.
Peter growled at him and grabbed the spear. He didn’t want to pull it out, oh
no, he pushed it in deeper until it pierced through his shoulder and he pulled
the guard closer this way. Before Scott could let go of his weapon, Peter
reached him. Biting a human wasn’t anything like biting a wolf. They were
fragile, disgusting and cold. Their blood smelled foul mixed with the scent of
their fear, fueling Peter’s rage. He was determined to take a bite out the
boy’s side, leaving him to bleed out, but at his surprise Scott still had fight
in him. Peter heard his sword leaving its scabbard and its edge slashed over
his face making him let go of the boy. Scott could get away and Peter was blind
from the blood that covered his face and eyes. He shook his head; roaring like
a wild animal, cursing all gods new and old and even the ancient.
With his dying strength he wiped the blood from his face to see.  He’d gotten
scared. He feared he was dying and he was going to lose and everything he was
fighting for will collapse. He would die as a rabid monster.
The wolf saw Scott on the ground writhing from pain, blood pooling around him
and someone was kneeling next to him. Peter smelled tears and… Stiles. The boy
wasn’t looking at him but held Scott’s arm, trying to get him on his feet.
Without knowing what he was doing, Peter took a few wobbly steps toward them
and that got Stiles’ attention. He looked up at him with wide, scared eyes and
for the first time in his life Peter didn’t feel happy about his fear.
He wheezed; spit and blood dropping from between his teeth on the ground and
there was nothing that was keeping him from jumping over at both Stiles and
Scott with just one movement.
“Stop it… just, stop it.” he heard Stiles whisper in a choked up voice and
Peter felt every bit of his strength leave his body. The spear with the
wolfsbane was still stuck in his shoulder, draining all of his strength, and
Peter welcomed it as an old friend. He felt cold air engulf him as he collapsed
on the ground.
--
“So what are we researching exactly?” Scott asked absently taking a book from
one of the shelves in the library.
“Mythology.” Stiles answered as he got on the ladder to reach some of the
higher shelves too. “Fairy tales, tales of the old gods and other lore.” he
muttered and quickly retrieved three books.
“Are you sure this is research.” Scott scoffed. “It sounds like you’re just
trying everything to avoid today’s classes too.”
“Hey, Professor Harris said it’s either the library or the harp and fairly, I
would choose anything over the harp.” the queen snorted. “How will the harp
ever help me, huh? I’m terrible at it. People would pay me to stop!” he said,
flailing his arms a little. “So research it is.”
Scott sighed, agreeing, because Stiles was really terrible with all musical
instruments. He rather listened to the library’s silence than Stiles trying to
play any harp at the moment.
“Alright then… anything specific, or something?” he asked, spreading his arms
at his friend. Stiles just bit in his lower lip and looked around if they were
alone and stepped closer to the guard.
“It’s about the Hales.” he started quietly, and Scott wanted to roll his yes.
“Don’t tell me you believe those rumors about them…” he sighed.
“No, I don’t…” Stiles started, but it wasn’t exactly convincing. “Well, maybe.
It’s just…” he sighed, biting at his lower lip.
“It’s just?” Scott asked, tilting his head curiously.
“Peter… his skin. You know his body is, like, he doesn’t have scars.” Stiles
explained flailing a little. “And his skin is warmer than anyone else I know,
and–“
“Whoah, brother!” Scott started, holding up his hands. “I don’t know any of
that, I- I wasn’t really that close to him. Or even saw him shirtless ever and
fairly I don’t even want to.”
“Hey, what?!” Stiles gasped, but he felt himself blushing a little. “I can’t
tell you this much while I had to suffer through how you and Lady Argent were-
you know! Consider this revenge, alright?” he scolded and Scott just rubbed his
eyes as if trying to kick the images of Peter’s naked body out of his mind.
“Alright, so what’s the deal?” he asked at last.
“I’m just saying that he’s a warlord, you know? A warrior, a fighter and he’s
obviously good at fighting. How come he doesn’t have scars, not even small
ones? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“But it makes sense that he’s a… fairy.” Scott snorted, looking at the books
Stiles was holding.
“Well- not a fairy, no! But… maybe he’s enchanted, or something?” Stiles sighed
and sat down by the table to start reading. Scott joined him with a suffering
sigh.
Magic spells and enchanted creatures weren’t so uncommon on their lands back in
the day, when the old gods were ruling over them. Fairy tales and a few of the
bard’s tales were still telling about half-animal humans, horses with horns,
small birdlike women and of course the mysterious creatures of the sea.  Some
people in the kingdom swore they could still spot all of these creatures and
Stiles even knew an old man who could perform magic, also Deaton’s practice was
somehow close to potion making.
Ever since the new gods had arrived, the power of the old gods might have been
dying and their creations had gotten scarce but that didn’t mean they weren’t
around. Stiles was sure that Peter either had one of these creatures to provide
him power or he’d asked a magician for strength.
Either way, there was something about Peter Hale.
Stiles actually grew suspicious when Deaton visited him after the night of his
wedding and asked about a marking. What kind of marking he was talking about,
Stiles always wondered. Maybe the mark of the Hales, maybe every Hale had
received it. Stiles had so many theories but he had so little facts to work
with and he still wasn’t sure if he should search for a spell or a creature.
They stayed in the library late that night and Stiles even asked his dinner to
be brought there. He had found absolutely nothing that would have been the
answer to any of his questions, but he thought at least he’d educated himself
on all the spells. Maybe they could come in handy one day.
Just when Scott decided they should really get going, a low rumble shook the
fortress and screams emerged from the silence of the night. The guards’ yells
got covered by a loud howl. As if the men were trying to fight with an animal.
Stiles frowned over the half open door just in time to see something huge run
by followed by guards. It was just like the monster his father would tell him
about at night when he wanted to scare him.
“What was that…?” Scott asked in a hollow voice and looked at his friend.
Stiles didn’t answer, just jumped from his seat and ran to the door, opening it
without fear. His curiosity got the better of him and Scott had to pull him
back to the library. “Are you crazy, what if it kills you?!” he hissed at the
queen and pulled his sword and peaked out again.
“What if it kills you?!” Stiles hissed and peeked out to see what was
happening, but he couldn’t see through the crowd of guards. Then Deaton pushed
his way through them, looking extremely worried and ran down the corridor.
“Professor Deaton!” Stiles called after him, at the same time when he heard
someone scream. It sounded like Cora, and Scott turned his head to Stiles to
get permission to leave and find out what kind of animal was going rampant on
the corridors of the fortress. But Stiles didn’t give permission, instead he
hurried after Deaton, grabbing his arm. “What the hell is going on?”
“Your Majesty…!” the emissary looked at Stiles alarmed for a second. “Why
aren’t you in your room?”
“I don’t think that’s relevant to what’s happening right now! We saw a monster
and now it sounds like it’s chewing up half our men.” The queen snapped,
motioning to the other end of the corridor. Deaton sighed nervously, eying the
two boys. “And I suppose you know more than me about it. Why else would you--!”
“Stiles!” Scott screamed and grabbed the queen to drag him with him to the
nearest door embrasure. Stiles felt his back hit the door, the doorknob digging
into his side, but Scott pressed him hard against it to shield him. Deaton
slammed his back to the door at the same time too and both Scott and the
emissary were looking over the corridors where the monster went. It was running
back.
Stiles’ heart almost stopped at the sight. The monster was huge; taking up all
the space the corridors provided. Since there were only a few torches lit, the
whole size of the creature was stolen by the darkness, but Stiles could still
guess how huge it was. It had similarities to a wolf and to a man and Stiles
knew in that moment that it was a werewolf. His eyes were glowing red and he
was running on hind legs, but his whole body was covered in dark grey fur. It
swayed his strong arms around; clawed hands were trying to reach something on
his back. It was another werewolf! He was smaller in size and appeared saner
than the monster. He was biting down at his neck, causing dark blood to flow
down the monster’s neck.
Stiles also realized he knew the features of that wolf.
“Derek…?” he whispered and he heard Deaton sigh next to him. The werewolves ran
all the way to the end of the corridor, thankfully unbothered by the small
group. Then the beast jumped and threw himself through one of the windows.
Without thinking about what he was doing, Stiles ran after them, leaning out of
the window too.
“Stiles, to the new gods..!” Scott gasped running after him.
“What was that?!” the queen asked, turning back to Deaton.
“We don’t have much time. Come with me, Your Majesty.” The emissary said and
hurried away with Stiles close on his heels. He might get answers to his
questions finally.
“Is that the thing Peter keeps? It’s a werewolf, right? Was that Derek on his
back? Derek is a werewolf?” he asked as they were hurrying through corridors,
littered with injured guards on their way to the fortress grounds.
Even inside the building they could hear the insane howling and roaring of the
monster and it was absolutely terrifying. Stiles suddenly wondered if it’s a
good idea to get so close to him, but his curiosity was bigger than his fear in
that moment. Deaton didn’t answer any of his questions, but the sight of the
two werewolves was enough to confirm some of his suspicions. There was indeed
something going on with the Hales.
They arrived to the grounds, just to see Derek laying there without any sign of
life and Stiles got nervous. The other wolf was making his way toward him,
probably to make sure he’s dead. But before he reached the body he froze and
suddenly looked around. Stiles gasped, taking a step back, but the beast didn’t
charge at them, no, it started biting against air and pushing away invisible
enemies. He was seeing things neither of them could.
The movements of the monster reminded Stiles of an old, senile animal. But he
wasn’t weak, no. If this wolf wanted to he could take out everyone in the
fortress. Where was Peter anyway, when a werewolf was running amok on fortress
grounds?
“Where is-“ Stiles turned to Deaton but the moment he started his question and
looked into the man’s eyes, he knew. He just knew, because it all made too much
sense. His stomach dropped and his lungs grew half their size. The queen
swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat and turned his gaze back to the insane
monster.
It was Peter. The monster was Peter Hale.
“I wanted you to see.” Deaton said quietly when he saw Stiles’ realization. The
boy stared at Peter with parted lips and he wasn’t sure he wanted to believe
the sight. It was the answer he was looking for, but still something he needed
time to adapt to. That his husband, the king of the country, was a beast; a
werewolf.
“Soon he could kill us all in his blind fury.” the emissary said and looked
around them. In any other case Stiles would have been alarmed how calm the man
sounded. As if something like this was regular with Peter. “We need a weapon.”
“This will do?” Scott asked, carrying a few spears with him. They kept them
near for practicing, and Deaton nodded in approval. He quickly took one and
fished out something from the sleeve of his cowl. Stiles didn’t see it because
he was still too occupied with staring at Peter.
The beast had probably killed a few guards that night, he hurt his own family -
who were also werewolves- and now he was acting like an insane, rabid dog.
Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about all that.
“Move!” Scott’s voice pulled him out of his daze as he hurried past him with
the spear in his hands. Stiles stumbled out of his way, still in a state of
shock, and watched Scott take on the beast, feeling utterly helpless.
“Scott!” he shouted when the boy really went and stabbed Peter. The wolf seemed
like he was snapping out of his hallucinations and now his bloody, red eyes
were on Scott. Stiles’ stomach dropped and he was ready to run to them, but
Deaton grabbed his arm.
“It’s coated with wolfsbane it will be alright!” he said, but he didn’t sound
too convincing. It certainly didn’t help Stiles, especially when he saw Peter
pushing the weapon through his shoulder like it was nothing. He had gotten
awfully close to Scott that way.
“Scott!” Stiles screamed, he freed himself from Deaton’s grip and ran toward
the scene. He saw Peter biting his friend the moment he could finally get his
sword and slash at him. Peter roared and stumbled back, letting Scott go.
Stiles ignored the danger and Deaton’s calls as he hurried to his friend,
grabbing his shoulder.
“Come, let me help!” he started, suddenly aware of the tears rolling down his
cheeks. Stiles wiped them away frustrated and tried not to think about what he
would do if Scott dies on him. He would definitely go mad, too. Scott groaned
from pain and he was bleeding a lot and Stiles was getting really scared. Then
he heard a low growl and looked up just to see Peter looking at them with those
crazy eyes. Stiles had never been so scared in his life. He clutched Scott’s
arm tightly, but he couldn’t look away from Peter. His body was trembling from
fear and his ears were ringing.
“Stop it.” he heard himself say. “Just stop this…” he sniffed.
For Stiles’ greatest surprise and relief, Peter collapsed on the ground in the
next moment. The silence that followed the howling of the beast hit Stiles like
lightning. His breath picked up as he was looking around the grounds. There was
no one around… No guards, no people. Just them and the wolves.
“I told everyone to stay away.” Deaton explained when he saw Stiles’ confused
stare.
“You knew this will happen!? What did exactly happen?!” Stiles asked, then
shook his head. That wasn’t his priority right now. “Scott, Scott, are you
okay, brother, are you okay?” he asked the boy, shaking his shoulders. Scott
wasn’t conscious and Stiles got more afraid. His hands were shaking and his own
breath was trying to choke him. “He bit him, he bit him!” he told Deaton.
“I saw.” the man said kneeling next to them and quickly checked the boy. “Calm
down, Your Majesty.”
“I am calm! Will Scott be alright, please, please I must know if he’s going to
be alright… He can’t…” he panted, looking down at the guard.
“He’s still breathing.” Deaton said. “He will be… fine.” he added, and stood
up. “I’m getting help. Please wait here, Your Majesty.” he said and hurried
away. Stiles watched him go, listening to his own breathing. His hands were on
Scott’s chest, as if trying to keep his soul from leaving his body for good.
Stiles looked over to Peter’s and Derek’s bodies. They were humans again and
Peter still had a spear through his shoulder and a few arrows in his side, but
the huge gash on his face was already healing up. It looked like the scene of a
massacre but Stiles knew that both of the wolves were still alive and he hated
every single one of the Hales in that moment with a burning passion.
Chapter End Notes
     I showed this part at a Nano meeting and one of the feedbacks was
     that my werewolves aren't scary enough. Though that person wasn't
     actually familiar with Teen Wolf... XD
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     Betaed by Evy, all other mistakes are mine~
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles stomped through the corridors which were still bloody from the events of
last night. He didn’t sleep that night either, but stayed in the nursery with
Scott. He prayed for all the gods to not take him, but he wasn’t sure that the
god who listened was the right one.
He ignored the guards by Peter’s door and he barged in without knocking or any
warning.
Deaton looked up surprised to see him, but Peter didn’t. He kept his eyes
closed and his head was hanging as he was sitting on a stool. He wasn’t wearing
any shirt as his emissary was working on cleaning the wound the spear had left
so it could heal.
“Leave.” the king said in a low voice, but it just fueled Stiles’ anger. He
crossed the distance between them and punched Peter’s injured shoulder. It
caused a loud hiss and the man jumped up from his seat, turning to him. “I said
leave, before I make you!”
“I’m not leaving until you present me a completely acceptable explanation of
what the hell that was last night!” Stiles shouted, pointing back at the door.
“I can smell your fear and I can guarantee it can get real.” Peter hissed, not
intimidated at all. Of course, why would he be. He was a beast thrice Stiles’
size. “You saw everything last night, what else is there to talk about at this
point?”
“For example why didn’t you tell me before?!” the queen was still shouting.
“I’m your wife, I’m the queen and I told you I’ll stand next to you and I was
expecting you to be honest with me!”
Peter pursed his lips, glaring at Stiles.
“This isn’t something you were supposed to know.” he remarked.
“Oh, oh do you think so? Do you really think so!? So I was supposed to just sit
around while some rabid monstrous wolf kills half the guards- oh and, I’m sorry
you weren’t exactly gentle with your own family either!” the boy ranted,
flailing his arms. “I’m supposed to know these things!”
“Now you know. And it won’t happen again.” Peter sighed and went to retrieve
the stool to sit down.
“What the hell happened exactly anyway?!” Stiles hissed, going after him. “You
were looking different from Derek and Cora, you’re stronger too!”
“It’s because I’m the Alpha, the leader of the pack.” Peter answered and
motioned to Deaton to continue cleaning his wound. Stiles almost clawed at his
face at the mention of a ‘pack’ because how many are there still out there?!
“You were so leader-like last night.” Stiles remarked, earning another glare
from Peter. He also didn’t miss that the wolf didn’t answer about what
happened; that why he was going rampant out of the blue. “Are there many of
you?”
“Enough.” Peter nodded and Stiles wanted to hit him again.
“You should have told me!” he pressed.
“You get to keep your secrets too, don’t you?” Peter snapped, growling at him
this time. Stiles took a step back, because he had seen what Peter was capable
of. He fisted his hands by his sides as he was glaring at the man.
“You bit Scott.”
“And?”
“What should I tell his mother, or his lady now?! He was in my care and I let
him down! He’s going to be like you!” Stiles yelled.
“He’s not going to be like me!” Peter started loudly, purely irritated by
Stiles’ bare presence. “It’s not even sure he will be able to turn!” he added.
“Wha- you bit him! If a werewolf bites a human it’s either good bye life or
hello fur coat, there is no in-between!” the queen yelled. He read the books
last night while he was sitting next to Scott. He read everything he found on
werewolves and this was one thing he was sure of: the bite was a huge deal.
“Not anymore.” Deaton spoke this time. Stiles frowned at him. “Werewolves are
the beasts of the old gods.” the man started, his gaze flickering to Peter in a
silent question if he can go on. “And the old gods are leaving this land, Your
Majesty. Their magic is fading. The bite of an Alpha might not turn a human.”
Stiles stared at Deaton. So there was still hope for Scott. He might be able to
make it without having to turn into a wolf every full moon.
“If he turns…” Peter started, eying his queen. “He will be a Beta of mine, and
you should be happy I’m not sending him to the border with the rest.” he added,
rubbing his face almost tired.
“What?!” the queen frowned. “Why would your… Betas are at the border? What is
at the border?” he asked again, tilting his head to the side, but Peter turned
to him again.
“I adore our chats, darling, but they can get overwhelming. Leave now, or this
country will have to do without a queen.” The king said, letting his eyes glow
red and Stiles gulped. Cursing Peter, he turned to leave. He couldn’t believe
that after what happened Peter was the one acting as the victim. Still being
secretive, still not telling him important things. Stiles was having enough of
this.
“You’re going to tell me everything!” he shouted at Derek. He wanted to shout
with him for a while so it felt good to do it. Derek and Cora were in the royal
nursery, where Scott was lying too, but without any actual nurses around.
Deaton was the one handling their injuries, because apparently werewolves heal
a bit differently. Stiles decided to hit more of the books the moment he had
some free time.
“Why? Don’t you know everything already?” Derek snorted, crossing his arms as
he was leaning his back on the headrest.
“I swear to all the gods you can’t deny the family relation.” Stiles groaned.
“What happened last night?”
At his question, Derek looked over at Cora and Scott. They were both still
asleep, healing. Stiles was worried he wouldn’t answer, but in the end the man
turned his head back to him.
“It happens sometimes. Near full moons.” he started in a low voice. “With
Peter.”
“What…?” the boy frowned leaning closer because Derek was talking quietly. His
voice lacked that edge which was reserved for any stranger outside his family.
Stiles swallowed when he realized what that meant.
“There are gossips about it too.” Derek continued. “About him being insane.
It’s true.”
“Shit.” Stiles swallowed and felt the need to sit down. He’s collapsed in the
chair nearby. He was thinking about Peter’s stance from last night and it
indeed didn’t seem too sane to him and now Derek confirmed it.
“He’s not whole.” Derek spoke.
“What… what do you mean…” Stiles asked, shaking his head, trying to keep up.
“Have you seen his wolf form? That’s not how an Alpha wolf is supposed to
look.” as the man was talking his gaze got distant and angry. Stiles could see
his muscles tense under his shirt, as if the images he’d seen were causing him
so much pain he somehow tried to protect himself. “He isn’t supposed to be
Alpha either.”
At that last remark, Stiles froze. He tilted his head to look at Derek; to
really look at him. And he saw the spark which actually worried him: Derek
wasn’t loyal to his uncle. Stiles licked his lips before he asked his question.
“Who’s supposed to be the Alpha then?”
Derek looked at him and Stiles saw sorrow so thick it almost choked him.
“My sister, Laura.” Derek’s voice was low and tired. Stiles stared at him,
trying to remember everything he learned about the Hales these five years. But
the relevant information was scarce, since they were indeed secretive.
“Peter killed her.” Derek continued, looking over Cora who was slowly becoming
awake and listening in on their conversation.
Stiles felt a stab in his chest. Peter killed one of their own family to
achieve his powers. That’s how far he would go to get what he wanted.
“It happened not long after the fire.” It was Cora who snapped him back to
reality.
“The… the fire?” Stiles frowned. It actually rang a bell; the Hales and how
most of the family got wiped out by a fire.
“We were out hunting.” Cora continued and sat up in her bed. “We only knew
something had happened when it was too late and we were too scared to go back
for days.”
“We found Peter then. Still alive, but badly burned.” Derek muttered, eying
something on his sheets, but his nostrils widened in anger.
“Who… who did it?” Stiles asked, somehow having difficulty to speak.
“Hunters.” Derek answered. “They locked up every exit of the house and burned
it down. Because we’re werewolves. We aren’t creatures of this world anymore
with the new gods and the new era can’t arrive with old beasts in it.” As the
man spoke his voice turned bitter and cynical. Stiles swallowed, because he
knew about that prophecy too. But he didn’t believe that his father would
straight out give orders to kill a family just because they were werewolves.
“No.” he snapped. “No, my father wouldn’t have… done anything like that.”
Derek and Cora looked at him and they actually weren’t convinced. Stiles could
see that in their eyes and it frustrated him beyond everything.
“Uncle Peter became obsessed. He says he doesn’t want this to happen again. We
just wanted peace…” Cora started.
“But when we realized he was too far gone there was no way back.” Derek said,
turning his eyes at Stiles again. “He’s insane and he isn’t a good man, Stiles.
It’s getting worse as years go by and now that he’s king it could get more
destructive.” he told him, and Stiles could feel what Derek wanted from his
words.
Derek wanted to kill his uncle.
Stiles sat there, trying to wrap his mind around what he had heard and of what
had happened. He’d gotten a few questions answered, but it still left a lot
more. He hated this and he hated being so helpless about this all. There was a
monster on the throne who was insane and would kill his own family to gain what
he wants: power.
The Hales weren’t gods; they weren’t witches, immortals or undead: they were
victims, struggling under the claws of one of their own. Stiles felt slightly
dizzy as he was thinking about it. He didn’t like how things were turning out,
not at all.
“What are you going to do now?” he half asked it to himself too. That’s why he
was slightly alarmed when Derek answered.
“Something I should have done years ago.” he said, leaning closer to Stiles.
“He proved that he’s not capable anymore of being an Alpha and we can take him
on. We could restore the kingdom.” he commented.
Stiles straightened his back.
“What…?” he breathed. His suspicion was right: Derek wanted to murder Peter,
and he wanted to do it as soon as possible. Since it wasn’t even a year since
Peter’s coronation, the moment his death is declared the old king would receive
back all his rights to the throne again. Stiles’ father could be king again.
“I’ll help.” Stiles said before he could stop himself. The worry he felt for
Scott and the shock he experienced last night got to him. He decided to not let
Peter take over his kingdom. Yes, he promised to support him, but that was
before he realized he was an insane beast who killed his own family.
The decision should have been easy, considering how he wanted back the old
kingdom without Peter Hale in it, and yet the queen felt a strange tug in the
middle of his chest.
--
Derek and Cora healed pretty fast after such an assault, Stiles wondered as he
was still sitting by Scott. The boy was unconscious for more than two days, but
Deaton actually said it’s a good sign. It might be, because his body was
fighting the bite.
The time next to Scott gave Stiles enough time to catch up on werewolf folklore
and refresh his knowledge on the old gods and even on the new gods. He thought
the shift in their religion was going smoothly, because since he was born all
he had heard was about the miracles of the new gods and how they are so
powerful. He was even sure that the old gods were only the characters of the
old myths. Apparently, they were still around if werewolves could still run on
their lands.
And then Scott woke up. Stiles jumped from his chair, leaning over him.
“Hey, Scott, buddy…” he started, really glad the boy seemed to be doing fine.
Scott frowned up at him and attempted to get up, but Stiles pushed him down.
“Oh, no no, you- I think you should stay like that until I get Professor
Deaton.”
“What happened?” Scott asked confused, his voice sounded pretty weak and Stiles
tried not to panic as he hurried to get a servant to fetch the emissary.
When Professor Deaton arrived he checked Scott and his bite. Stiles vaguely
wondered if this was the marking he was asking about the other day. If Peter
had bitten him. Deaton was concerned about him turning into a werewolf way
before all this…
“Looks like…” the emissary started, smiling at Scott. “You’re going to do
fine.”
“Will… Will I turn?” Scott asked concerned and Deaton sighed.
“You probably won’t.” he said. “But for the next few months, you’ll be kind of
sick. You might experience fevers and pain. I’m certain it won’t take longer
than that for your body to heal from the bite.”
“So… so he’s going to be alright?” Stiles asked.
“Yes. He will.” Deaton smiled. “But for the next few months he wouldn’t pass a
werewolf trial.” He added as a kind of joke. Stiles sighed relieved, collapsing
at the side of the bed.
“You don’t ever scare me like that!” he pointed at Scott. His friend just
smiled a little and shrugged sheepishly.
Scott was going to be alright. Because the old gods aren’t strong anymore. And
werewolves aren’t needed in this new world order, Stiles wondered.
But what do the new gods say about a werewolf who fought his way to be king?
--
Stiles knew that Derek wanted to act as soon as possible, but when he presented
him the dagger he still felt it was too soon.
“I thought… you would take him out?” he asked as he was eying the dagger in his
hand. It was the same kind Peter was carrying with him whenever they slept
together. They hadn’t been with each other since the night Stiles swore loyalty
to him, but from time to time Peter visited him to sleep next to him for a few
hours. Derek explained it was because of scent marking and Stiles felt
extremely violated at that news. Every time when Peter visited him he carried
the dagger that could cut anyone but him and slipped it under his pillow.
Stiles asked why he was carrying it and he said he had had a few attacks during
the night. The dagger was the proof Peter didn’t really sleep good at all. Now
that the boy was thinking about it, he didn’t really see Peter sleep much.
“It’s the most discrete way to do it.” Derek answered and stepped closer to
Stiles, running his hands down the back of his neck. The boy gasped, stumbling
back at the sudden invasion of his personal space.
“What- what the hell was that!?” he asked, holding up the dagger at Derek. The
man sighed irritated and crossed his arms, apparently feeling just as violated
as Stiles.
“You have my scent now.” he explained. “Peter will claim you back either
tonight or tomorrow. Either way, he’s going to spend a few hours with you one
of these nights. Be prepared and if the time is right, use the dagger.”
Stiles licked his lips, looking away. Suddenly it felt so real: the plan to
kill Peter. It was always just a theory, a dream and now he was holding the
very weapon that could make it into something more real.
“Will this really kill him?” he asked, eying the weapon again, turning it
around in his hands.
“The blade is enchanted and coated with wolfsbane.” Derek explained. “Just
drive it through his heart and he won’t be able to heal. Can you do that?”
The question was simple, but Stiles felt himself finding it difficult to
answer. He detested Peter, hated him and he was still afraid of him. Peter took
everything from him: his country, his title, his father, because of his
personal mission for power and he didn’t even care about anyone. The man was
certainly a beast and no one would miss him and the king could reclaim his
title. And yet, Stiles still felt a small hesitation.
“Is this really the best option?” he asked, sighing.
“Peter wasn’t on the throne too long, his death wouldn’t shake the kingdom that
much. Cora and I are still here and the people are loyal to the family, not to
Peter.” Derek said.
“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, tilting his head.
“Stiles, you said you will help us.”
“I did, yes, but…” the boy sighed, rubbing his face. “Alright, alright.” he
sighed and slipped the dagger into his belt with a tight stomach. Somehow, the
much awaited feeling of ‘revenge’ didn’t hit him. He was more confused than
prepared for this battle.
--
That night Peter requested a private dinner with Stiles, which usually led to
him staying for a few hours. The queen was waiting for him in his chamber by
the table as the servants were preparing their meal. Stiles wasn’t sure if he
will be able to eat at all, he was too nervous. The dagger was resting in the
bed, under his pillow, and he had to force himself not to look that way too
many times.
Stiles also realized this will be the first occasion he will spend private time
with Peter after the night he went berserk. Maybe it will be their last one
even. Either Stiles manages to kill Peter or he will be too slow and Peter ends
him on the spot. He was capable of that. At that thought his breath hitched.
Everything was going so fast and Stiles wasn’t sure if it was good. Before he
could think more about it, Peter arrived to his chamber. He quietly sent the
servants away and took his seat across from Stiles at the table.
Peter was just as fearsome and cold when Stiles had first seen him in his
father’s throne room. He had a confident smirk that time and his eyes were
burning with the feeling of victory. This night, however, Peter’s smirk wasn’t
present and he seemed like he hadn’t been sleeping much either. Maybe he really
is going madder by the day and death would be redemption for him. The kingdom
handles a dead king far better than an insane one, Stiles told himself.
“Are you aware, that I can hear your heartbeat?” Peter asked then in a low
voice, not even looking up from his meal. Stiles swallowed. It wasn’t a good
sign Peter could tell when he was nervous. Especially not tonight.
“Are you aware that it’s not fair?” he snapped and finally met Peter’s gaze.
“That you know more about my heartbeat than I do!?”
“I think it’s handy.” Peter remarked, frowning lightly. “I can catch liars and
traitors.” Stiles felt slight dizziness hit him. He was really nervous and
scared, but if he wanted to pull through with his mission he had to get a grip.
To calm himself he reached for his wine and gulped down a little. He felt the
alcohol already taking its effect and Stiles didn’t mind. Calmness washed over
him, but still not enough for his taste, though he wasn’t about to drink more.
“Are we gonna talk about it?” he started suddenly.
“About?” Peter asked.
“About how you’re a damned werewolf! It’s been days, the guards are still in
shock; there are rumors and the royal huntsmen are on their way here.” Stiles
snapped, motioning around with his hand. The rumors either spoke about a bear
or a wolf and yes, there was the werewolf version too. But either way, Stiles
has gotten his father’s letter about how he will send over his best hunters for
safety. As if he didn’t have enough problems without them.
“I already told you, you have nothing to do with it and the hunters won’t find
anything.” Peter hissed and Stiles almost threw a fork at him. He was ready to
serve him, to be his proper wife and support him and Peter apparently didn’t
want or need any of that. Stiles wasn’t sure how he was feeling about it, but
he was definitely not happy at all.
The queen also gave up on his dinner for that night. At least yelling at Peter
helped his mood a little, he could get rid of some of his irritation. He eyed
his pillow as he was getting rid of his trousers to change into his night
attire, but then a nose bumped into the back of his neck, making him jump. He
didn’t even hear Peter walk up behind him.
“You were with Derek today?” the king asked and Stiles swallowed nervously.
“We talked yes…” he answered nodding.
“Did he touch you?” Peter asked. “Don’t answer, I know he did.”
“You can really smell that?” Stiles asked in disbelief. “It was just for a
second.” he said, but the next moment he wondered if it was the best thing to
retort to Peter. He could feel him tense up behind him even if he wasn’t
touching him.
“Undress.” Peter growled as he turned away to do the same. Stiles’ heart
skipped a beat and he hoped Peter won’t find it suspicious. He took off his
tunic and put on his nightshirt. Without looking at Peter he crawled on the
bed, sitting by his pillow with the dagger under it. Stiles turned his head
back to Peter in time to see him placing his own dagger on the nightstand and
getting rid of his own clothes. Though he always kept his trousers on the
nights he was just scent-marking Stiles.
Peter crawled on the bed too, reaching for Stiles. The boy wasn’t sure what he
was about to do but he thought if he’s not acting right then and there he
either gets caught or he never acts at all. So he grabbed Peter’s wrist and
pulled him to himself using his momentary instability to push him down on the
bed and straddled his hips to keep him in place.
When Stiles was sure Peter was trapped for the few seconds he needed, he
quickly grabbed the dagger and raised it to drive it through the wolf’s torso.
He wanted to see the blood coming out of Peter’s chest; he wanted to see him
dead for that second. But his arm didn’t move; Stiles didn’t strike. For a
moment he thought Peter grabbed him, but he realized no one was restraining
him. He just didn’t stab Peter.
Stiles’ vision doubled as he was staring down at the man’s chest, right at the
point he wanted to pierce through but didn’t. He hesitated. When his brain
finally processed that, he also knew he was too late, Peter will smite him on
the spot and Stiles couldn’t even blink from the shock and fear. But nothing
happened.
After a moment of tense silence and the only sound being his breathing, Peter
was the one who spoke.
“My heart… is here.” he said, slowly raising his hand to point at the middle of
his chest, eying the boy who was straddling him. Stiles swallowed, watching
Peter’s fingers point at his own chest, then raised his eyes to meet the
king’s.
“What…” he panted, just realizing he’s going to have an attack soon. He
squeezed the hilt of the dagger and placed the tip of the blade where Peter
pointed.
“If that’s an enchanted dagger, just like mine, then only one stab through the
heart will end me.” Peter continued and Stiles was desperately searching for
that mocking undertone he heard every time Peter was talking. But it wasn’t
there, somehow Peter’s tone wasn’t even scared or angry, it was casual. He
wasn’t begging for his life. It was like he almost wanted Stiles to do it. To
end it forever.
The boy’s hand trembled as he watched the tip of the blade make a small cut on
Peter’s skin. It wasn’t healing. It would really kill him. Stiles choked on his
own breath, trying to sort out what he wanted to do and how he felt about it.
And Peter let him, he didn’t do anything yet Stiles was utterly weak and
helpless and Peter let him suffer there, and the boy hesitated.
Stiles hesitated because the thought of Peter dying in his arms made him
physically sick. It was alarming on many levels and he felt really confused.
“Stiles.” he heard Peter’s voice and he jumped. The man didn’t try to touch him
or speak to him anymore but that one word was enough for Stiles to know. His
grip slowly eased on the hilt until the dagger slipped from his hands to the
bed and fell on the floor with a loud metallic sound. That noise signed to him
to be prepared for either a laugh, or something that would hurt him, maybe kill
him, but none of that happened.
Instead, Peter pushed himself up on his elbows, then reached out to slip his
fingers on the boy’s nape. His fingers were warm and calming and Stiles
whimpered at the touch, placing his hands on Peter’s chest. He could feel his
heart under his fingers, still beating, it was so reassuring and he felt so
relieved that his throat tightened.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” he heard Peter’s voice and Stiles just shook his
head.
“I… It… would have been too easy.” he choked out, laughing at himself because
it was more than that. There was so much more that it scared him. Peter’s
fingers were stroking the back of his neck calmingly and it worked. Stiles
closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath before he lost himself entirely
in his panic.
Then he felt Peter move as he sat up, with Stiles still on his lap, and put his
other arm around him, pulling him to his chest. Peter was hugging him and
Stiles wondered if this might be the first time it happened. The boy felt
himself melt into those arms, coming undone as those fingers caressed the skin
on his neck and sometimes slipping into his hair. It was so warm and calming
and maybe the one thing that felt finally right. Stiles let out a dry sob and
leaned his forehead against the side of Peter’s jaw, feeling the man’s stubble
prickle his sweaty skin. He pressed his nose against the base of the man’s neck
enjoying his warmth and scent.
Enjoying.
He wasn’t tolerating it, or suffering through it, he was enjoying Peter’s
presence. Even after what happened and after all those awful things the man had
done, Stiles enjoyed his presence and the fact that his heart was still beating
was giving him so much happiness it choked him.
“To the gods…” he swallowed to try and get himself together.
Stiles tilted his head to kiss the corner of Peter’s mouth, but the man turned
his head to make it into a full kiss. Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut and his hands
slipped on the man’s shoulders as he kissed back. It was a slow, proper kiss
and Stiles felt like it was overwhelming him, but he wanted more. He moved
closer to Peter, pressing up against him, and the man pulled him tight against
himself for a moment.
“I—“ he started, but for his surprise Peter tilted his head to kiss him again.
And again. Stiles whimpered and arched his back to press against the man’s
torso and in that moment Peter pushed him down on the bed. “Peter…!” Stiles
gasped when he felt a hand between his legs. He really wanted it, but he was
afraid Peter will leave him after they are done. And they needed to talk.
“I’ve- I’ve killed before…!” he stuttered, jumping when the man’s fingers
locked on a very sweet spot.
“You don’t have to prove you could have done it.” Peter murmured and leaned in
to kiss Stiles again, but no matter how much the boy wanted to lose himself in
the sensations, he still turned his head.
“No… No it’s not that.” he panted. “I- I killed my mother.” he started, fisting
his hands. At that, Peter stopped touching him and Stiles took it as a cue to
continue. “I killed my mother. She was really sick and I killed her.” Saying it
out loud made him feel a strange numbness in all his body. Maybe it was the
first time in his life he ever said those words out loud.
The queen was watching his husband hovering over him, waiting for him to go on.
Peter wanted to hear what he was planning to say, which was good.
“She was coughing a lot, and the- the doctors said it was something in her
lungs, but…” he started, but he had to close his eyes for a second. “But
nothing helped, not even magic. Nothing could get- get that something out of
her lungs.” Stiles heard himself speak, but he felt like it wasn’t even him who
was doing it. It felt like the part of his soul which had been locked up all
these years had finally broken free and wanted to tell his sin to the first
person who wouldn’t judge him for it.
Stiles slowly sat up and Peter gave him room, but never left his space. He was
close and warm and just so reassuring.
“She was dying and choking every night, she couldn’t breathe.” the queen said,
remembering his mother’s last days. She got thin and grey and suffered so much
she didn’t smile anymore. She was dying, but she wasn’t dead. It was worse than
being dead, she had to suffer through every single one of her attacks and hope
to live to the end of them, but it was always just the hope of death. “And I
couldn’t just watch her suffer anymore.” Stiles said, he licked his lips and
raised his gaze to meet the king’s.
“One day… I brought her tea.” he started and the scene already flashed before
his eyes. He had sent the guards away, requesting some private time with his
sick mother. He was only ten years old, still a child, but he knew what he
needed to do. Stiles recalled the eyes of his mother as he walked into her room
with the tray and he could see that she knew. She knew and she was smiling so
beautifully bittersweet, that Stiles’ heart broke. She was always beautiful,
but when she realized it might end soon she was happy for a moment. But not
entirely. She felt guilty for leaving her husband and son to this world in such
a way. “She… Her attack after that was fatal.”
Peter eyed the boy’s pale face; the queen’s eyes were on him too, but he didn’t
see him. Stiles watched his mother die, he recalled her death and probably her
last words. Peter caught himself recalling that feeling all too easily, but his
case was slightly different. Stiles poisoned his mother to help her sufferings,
but Peter… he had other reasons to kill his niece.
“I wanted to help her.” Stiles started and his voice shook as he snapped back
to reality. Peter thought he was waiting for some kind of absolution from him,
but Stiles’ gaze wasn’t begging; it was determined. “I wanted to stop her
suffering, I wanted her to…” he continued but his voice died in his throat as
it grew too tight to talk.
Peter sighed softly and looked away. He vaguely wondered if what Stiles was
feeling was the proper human emotion toward death of a loved one. It was far
from what Peter felt.
“Why did you kill your niece?” Stiles asked and Peter’s lips pulled into a
smile. He almost had to laugh.
“You told me you killed your mother, just so I would also tell you why I killed
one of my own?” he asked with maybe too much arrogance in his voice.
“I was just-“ Stiles started but Peter shut him up with just a cold glare.
“I didn’t kill her out of pity, I killed her because she didn’t fit into the
plan.” Peter spoke. “She was the Alpha, she had the power but she wasn’t
planning on taking revenge on those who killed us! On those hunters, your
father’s hunters had locked us up in our own house and burned it down.” he said
in such a voice that Stiles shivered at the coldness of it.
“I took her life and I took her powers and I could finally go and get my
revenge. But then I thought… why just on those people?” Peter continued and the
spark of insanity was flaring in his eyes again. “If I won’t get my point
through properly, they will continue to hunt us, to hurt us and burn us again
in the name of the new gods. I wanted to kill the king who let this happen.”
Stiles swallowed and shifted, but Peter grabbed his arm to keep him where he
was. If he so wanted to know why he killed Laura, then he will damn well hear
the whole story.
“I wanted everyone to know the Hales are untouchable and if I had to kill a few
of them for it then let it be.” Peter hissed, squeezing Stiles’ arm. “I don’t
regret it, I didn’t do it to help, I did it to get revenge.”
“You’re lying!” Stiles hissed back, yanking his arm. “It wasn’t the revenge!
You were just scared out of your mind!” he shouted. “You were so scared that
they will hurt you again, you didn’t care for what price, but you would hit
back! You’re not brave or heroic, or even evil, you’re just scared!”
Stiles’ cried out when claws dug into his skin, but he continued.
“I killed my mother to help her, I wanted to help her, I did it for her!” he
shouted, yanking his arm and making Peter’s claw dig deeper, but he needed that
pain to keep grounded. “I was scared too, but at least I admit it and you know
what, I don’t regret it!”
Peter’s glare grew dangerous and his eyes were red, but Stiles really never
knew when to shut up.
“You got so scared, you’re scared of everything and that’s why you want to hurt
and burn down everything! You’re a coward! Do you think if you’re powerful
enough nothing can hurt you?!” he screamed.
“I did it for my family.” Stiles heard Peter’s growl.
“Your family wanted peace and you killed one of them to make them go your way!”
Stiles snapped, shaking his head. “And now, you’re king, you’re powerful but
you have no one you can trust anymore and that scares you too.”
“Enough!” the man snapped at him and the next thing Stiles knew was his back
hitting the ground as Peter threw him off the bed. He could feel warm blood
trail down his arm where he had clawed up his skin, but the pain gave Stiles
more strength to get everything off his chest. Because it was working. “I was
burned alive with the rest of my family!” Peter’s voice came first, then the
blow as he pounced Stiles, pushing his shoulders back on the ground.
“You can’t even imagine how it felt, being there, trapped and helpless, and
watching them burn and suffocate to death.” Peter continued, smashing Stiles
against the ground again with a force that caused the boy to see stars.
“Of course I can’t!” Stiles wheezed out, trying to push Peter off of him. The
man’s features grew more animalistic and angry and if Stiles was anyone else he
would have stopped screaming with him. But he wasn’t anyone else, he was Stiles
Stilinski, the Queen of the Hale Kingdom and the wife of Peter Hale and he will
let him have a piece of his mind. “No one should have to imagine that, or live
through something like that, it’s not fair! What happened wasn’t fair, but what
you did wasn’t fair either! Thousands died because of your personal revenge
mission!”
“They deserved it-“
“Can’t you see?!” Stiles roared, glaring at Peter. “You’re acting the same as
those people who burned you and your family. You’re one of them now!”
Peter fell silent, staring at the boy under him, but the expected revelation
didn’t come.
“I’m not one of them, I’m just like them.” he said in a quiet, tense voice. “I
was the one burning their houses down and I have no regrets.”
Stiles was out of breath as he was eying Peter, he was getting tired, but he
wasn’t about to give up. It was true; Peter was insane, unable to see anything
else than his own sick visions and that made it hard. It made everything
difficult, but Stiles was too deep into it to let it go. Peter wouldn’t change,
but Stiles would break to try and prove him wrong on that.
“When I asked you… that if you want peace, you were lying to me.” he swallowed.
Peter’s silence was what confirmed his answer and Stiles wasn’t surprised.
“I’m asking you again now.”
“For peace?”
“Yes.”
Peter snorted, looking away, and let Stiles go. He sat back on his heels, his
features turning back to human, but his eyes were still red as the moon on rare
nights.
“Just be brave, just… trust me.” Stiles said determined and this time he was
grabbing Peter’s arm to make him listen. “I want peace and a strong country. I
want people to be happy and I want a strong king on the throne who could smite
his enemies in a second, but if you destroy everything it won’t happen. We need
these people to build something. If we can do this together, I’ll help you
build the strongest kingdom and make you the most powerful king in history.”
The boy’s words were passionate and his spark wasn’t insane. He had tactics and
foresight and that, Peter realized, made him extremely strong. Stiles wasn’t a
soldier, he was a tactician. No wonder the people saw a promising king in him
before Peter wed him.
“I promise you I won’t let anyone hurt you if you trust me.” Stiles said and
Peter froze once again. Those words were so surreal to hear, because he wasn’t
afraid. Everyone was afraid of him, why would he need any help, especially from
Stiles?!
“You’re so sure in your illusions, princess.” he remarked, but the boy’s
expression didn’t waver. He was waiting for his answer. “The only thing I’m
afraid of is that I’ll go deaf from your whining.” he remarked and stood to
leave.
Stiles let go of a sigh he didn’t know he was holding as he watched Peter pick
up his clothes. Despite being in pain, he wasn’t afraid and he felt like he had
won this battle, even if Peter hadn’t answered him. The man left without a
word, leaving Stiles with a clawed up arm and without an answer. That was
something, right? The boy rubbed his forehead and looked around the room,
spotting the dagger he had gotten from Derek on the floor. He reached for it
and decided to keep it. He might have a good use for it later, he thought.
 
Chapter End Notes
     I still can't decide if this is my favorite chapter, or the one I
     hate the most...
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     Woo hoo, halfway there baby.
     Betaed by Evy any other mistakes are mine~
Peter was good with people. It was partly him being a werewolf, and partly that
he had learned how to build connections. He was a ladies’ man; he was good at
most kinds of conversations around the dinner table, but it wasn’t just that.
He could actually read humans well, heard their pulse rise, detected the hitch
in their breath, saw their pupils widen in fear. He could smell their sickness,
their happiness, he could tell too many things about them. That’s how he could
tell Stiles’ change of heart too.
The boy’s heart was beating faster whenever he was with him and not from fear.
He smelled of lust and faintly of happiness, but the lingering anger and
revulsion made it all bittersweet. Peter could tell by just looking at Stiles’
faintly blushing cheeks that the boy had fallen and in any other situation he
would have had fun with that. He would have gone and broken the boy, but the
thing was, he already broke Stiles once. Peter grew careful with him after that
and when he realized that Stiles was in love, he got scared.
Stiles grew stronger with that emotion in his chest and he was like fire;
bright and burning hot and Peter was mesmerized, but he was too scared to get
closer. He was afraid of burning.
--
The queen was in the library, without Scott this time because he still needed a
lot of rest, researching about werewolves again. Thankfully, the library of the
fortress was one of the biggest of the kingdom, because the Stilinskis were
pressing on the importance of knowledge, thus Stiles had always been the kid
who was reading instead of going to sword practice. Or maybe he just wasn’t
fond of his sword technique teacher Professor Finnstock. He was a strange man.
This time, Stiles was sitting on the ladder which led up to the higher shelves,
with a huge, old book on his lap which he was trying to read. It was written in
an old language which no one spoke anymore, but he still had had to learn it
for some reason and he now was glad he knew. It contained important information
about all kinds of beasts.
After a while he felt like someone was watching him. The hair on his neck stood
up and he shivered. Stiles looked around only to see Derek coming closer with
slow, unstable steps, and when the boy could see him properly he winced. Derek
was a mess; there were huge, purple and greenish yellow bruises all over his
neck and face, and clawmarks on his arm which Stiles could see, even if Derek
was wearing a long sleeved tunic in the heat of summer. The queen was sure that
his whole body was covered in injuries and bruises. Stiles just realized he
hadn’t seen Derek since a few days.
Peter showed his nephew he’s still capable of being in charge. Stiles read that
an Alpha werewolf’s attack wouldn’t fade away as fast as another werewolf’s..
that’s what must have happened to Derek too.
Derek looked at him with anger and blame in his eyes, and Stiles was feeling
responsible, but he had an explanation and he hoped the wolf would accept it.
Stiles sighed when Derek stopped near him, still staring at him.
“You didn’t do it.” the wolf said simply, and the queen nodded.
“He knew it was you.” Stiles snorted just to continue the stating the obvious
game. “Maybe you shouldn’t have left your scent on me.” he added, raising an
eyebrow.
“Why did you back out?” the wolf asked, placing his hand on the ladder. “Did
you get scared?” he asked. Stiles flushed from anger. He wasn’t afraid, not
anymore and no one should think he was a scaredy cat.
“I just don’t think that murdering the current king would bring peace, you
know.” he shrugged and closed his book to get off the ladder.
“You and your peace.” Derek huffed. “Even if he’s the way he is? He’s going to
get worse.” He spoke as he was watching Stiles climb down the ladder to walk to
the nearest table where his books were. “What did he say to you?”
Stiles sighed, rubbing his forehead. He wasn’t exactly happy about that night
because it was exhausting, but at least he could get through to Peter. He was
happy about it, but now he had to wait until Peter finally comes to him. It
might take days, months… even if they didn’t have much time.
“What did he say to you?” Derek asked again when Stiles didn’t answer.
“Nothing.” the boy answered annoyed, glaring at the other. “He didn’t say
anything.”
“He must have said something, he has this way, this- this way with words. Lying
and manipulating.” Derek said, spreading his arms.
Stiles sighed, because yes he knew Peter thank you very much, he didn’t need to
be lectured about him. It was also slightly offending that Derek thought he
hadn’t seen Peter’s true nature by now.
“Nothing. I decided not to- not to kill him. Because I don’t think that killing
him would solve anything.” he said, glancing at Derek. “Let’s say I kill him,
or you kill him. Then what? What happens next?”
“Either your father or I take over the throne.” Derek answered without missing
a beat.
“And then what, Derek? Throw the country into chaos again? Making them choose
if they’re with the Hales or with my father? And what about the rebels at the
border, won’t Peter’s death encourage them?” Stiles asked, motioning over with
his hand. “You know, I don’t think the country is ready to lose another king
just yet.”
Derek narrowed his eyes as he was eying Stiles, he was searching for something
in him. He was trying to see the change in him, but he wasn’t like Peter and he
couldn’t see. Derek, Stiles thought, was awful with people, he wasn’t as
charismatic and he might make a good leader of an army, but he definitely
wouldn’t make a good king.
“Let’s just wait a little.” Stiles said.
“Wait for what?” Derek snorted. “For him to go truly insane and destroy
everything?”
“I won’t let that happen.” the boy frowned.
The tension was almost visible between them, as they were eying each other. But
Stiles’ opinion remained standing.
A servant interrupted them, before the queen thought Derek will jump at his
throat. The royal huntsmen had arrived at the fortress and the queen was
supposed to welcome them. Stiles wasn’t actually thrilled about the task, but
he was done with Derek for the day and it was a good excuse. He was also
worried about the hunters’ presence, especially now that he was familiar with
the history of the Hales.
Stiles decided to welcome the hunters in the Great Hall with a small feast.
They had a long trip behind them after all. A few of them even arrived straight
from the battlefield. As the queen was watching them he felt a bit of pride. He
could save these people and they could come home alive to their families, doing
what they were supposed to do: hunt for food and not kill other men.
“Welcome to Beacon Fortress.” Stiles greeted them with his most queen-like
voice and he thought he failed horribly. Sir Chris Argent was the one stepping
to him with a tired smile on his lips.
Sir Argent was the leader of the royal huntsmen and the head of the most
powerful hunting family in the kingdom. His daughter was Allison, Scott’s
sweetheart. Stiles just hoped that they didn’t bring their daughter right now,
because Scott wasn’t exactly alright yet.
“I’m sorry to bother you at such… happy times, your Majesty.” Sir Argent said,
looking around. Stiles blushed a little, because the honeymoon period in the
country was half a year. Sometimes a whole year if the royal couple couldn’t
get enough of each other. “We came at the command of your father and we also
heard worrisome rumors.”
Stiles swallowed, but put on his most polite smile.
“Let your men rest and eat for today.” he started. “And don’t worry about the
rumors. These are times after war, people jump on every little silly tale they
hear.”
“If only a tiny little part of this rumor is true, Your Majesty, then there is
a good reason I’m worried.” Chris insisted, and Stiles bit the inside of his
lip. He felt like it would be suspicious to put it off more, so he nodded.
“Let’s talk about it in private.” he agreed.
“As soon as possible, your Majesty.” the hunter pressed and Stiles groaned.
“Alright, let your men dine and we shall go somewhere private.” he nodded and
motioned to the servants to lead him and the huntsman to the queen’s chamber.
Stiles had a feeling that Sir Argent knew about things he had only learned a
few days ago himself. It might become an interesting talk, especially since the
hunter was so eager about it.
“I’m sorry for being so insistent about this, Your Majesty, but this matter
doesn’t seem so simple.” Sir Argent started and sat down on his seat after
Stiles took his place. The queen sent away the servants, leaving the illusion
of privacy to them. Sir Argent only started talking when they were alone.
“What exactly was the rumor you heard?” Stiles started. Better get the hunter’s
version first.
Sir Argent eyed the queen for a while as if he wanted to ask that first. But in
the end he spoke.
“They said… a huge wolf got inside the walls of the fortress. Killing five
guards and injuring almost half of them.” he started, picking something on the
table. “Your father is worried… about how a wild animal like that could get
inside the safest place in the kingdom?”
Stiles nodded, signing Sir Argent to continue, and stopped himself from biting
his lip to hide his nerves.
“In my opinion, it wasn’t a simple wolf, Your Majesty.” the hunter said, eying
the boy.
“What do you mean?” the queen asked, pretending to be clueless. He, after all,
shouldn’t know about creatures of the old gods.
“Have you heard about werewolves?” Chris asked, and Stiles almost rolled his
eyes. He wished he wouldn’t have heard about those stupid wolves. His life
might be easier. But this was his life now, pretending he knows nothing about
said monsters.
“The monsters of the old religion, I heard about them, yes.” he nodded, because
that was all he was supposed know about them.
“Indeed, they are creatures of something old, something that should already be
forgotten.” the hunter said, eying the queen. “So it’s strange that a creature
like that would walk around the place where the king established his new
capital.” he remarked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles frowned. “What does the beast
have to do with the king?”
Sir Argent smiled, tilting his head to the side.
“You really don’t know, your Majesty?” he asked in the kind of  tone which
showed he apparently didn’t believe Stiles’ total cluelessness. “The rumors.”
The queen rolled his eyes, sighing.
“I believed you’re a more sensible man than to believe rumors.” he said. “I
have heard gossips, yes. I heard it all.” he nodded.
“I have a good feeling to believe that your husband has something to hide.
Actually, the whole Hale family has a good reason to keep their family
relations a secret.”
“Sir Argent, my patience isn’t endless.” Stiles pressed.
“I’m saying that the Hales are these creatures, these wolves.” the hunter
finished, eying Stiles. The queen tried to remain calm, but still unfazed about
the news.
“Don’t make me laugh.” he snorted. “That my husband is a werewolf? Do you hear
your own words? That’s absurd.” he chuckled. “Don’t you think I would have had
a little idea about that by now?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking Your Majesty.” the hunter said, eying the
boy. Stiles licked his lips and he knew it was a mistake. He gave himself away,
but he could still work with this. He couldn’t have let the hunters know about
Peter and the Hales, not yet. He needed to know Peter’s answer to his latest
offer and everything was depending on it. And until then, he will protect the
Hales, even if they won’t appreciate it at all.
“Well, you’re mistaken.” Stiles said, cocking his chin up. “My husband is truly
human and I can confirm that.”
“He can confirm that too?”
The queen was enraged with the question.
“You are suggesting what I think you are?” he asked, rising from his seat. “You
would put my husband through a werewolf-trial, to check if he’s really human?
You would do that to your king?” he continued. “Do you know the punishment for
simply suggesting such a thing?”
The hunter didn’t say anything. He was a good man and an experienced hunter; he
also knew when to stay silent.
“That’s what I thought.” Stiles finished. “I regard this matter closed. I don’t
want to hear about it anymore, not from you and not from anyone. The beasts of
the old gods are extinct, they are gone.”
“I’ve got news there are still a few of them by the border, where our armies
are still fighting.” Sir Argent answered. That was new information and Stiles
wasn’t prepared for it and that angered him. He licked his lower lip, thinking
he should ask Peter or Derek about it.
“Are your sources reliable?” he asked.
“Pretty much.”
“That’s not enough.” Stiles snapped. “As I said, I don’t want to hear about
this matter anymore. The rumored beast was a bear seeking a place away from the
heat of the summer and it caught us unprepared. That’s why the injured were
that many. Thank you for your concern Sir Argent, but I won’t need your
services.”
“Your Majesty.” Sir Argent nodded, realizing he won’t get anywhere if he
presses more. “I’ll still plan on staying for a few days. My men, you see, are
tired and we should still look around in the forests for other bears to prevent
another disaster.” he said.
“Fair enough.” Stiles nodded. “Now, join your men and rest. I have my duties to
attend to. You’re welcome in the fortress as long as you wish.” and with that
he stood and left.
This is why he needed to know if Peter would place his trust in him. That if he
will need to hand him over to the hunters or he will have to protect him. Both
can get extremely dangerous, and Stiles preferred to be prepared. Also, he was
really curious what was really going on at the border.
--
The hunters staying in the castle meant that Stiles had to be careful. These
men were sharp and at least one knew what to look out for. The queen was
certain that Sir Argent won’t leave the werewolf subject alone, which wasn’t
good news, taking the current circumstances. Stiles felt a bit helpless, he
needed to know if Peter will trust him or not. He protected him once, but he
wasn’t sure if he was ready to give Peter a second chance.
If the hunters catch the Hale family and they prove they are werewolves they
will take away their royal rights; the contract between the old king and Peter
Hale will be invalid and the Hales will face execution. It would throw the
country into many more long years of war as people will try to grab the power
and Stiles wasn’t sure if his father will be strong enough for it. Stiles first
needed to think of a method to handle this as smoothly as he could; and he
needed to know where Peter stands in it all.
Then one day, he received an invitation to one of the tactical meetings. Stiles
decided to use this opportunity for the best.
“So, we’re finally doing this, huh!” he grinned as he entered the chamber.
Scott was at his heels, finally working again, but he wasn’t all that happy
these days. Indeed, he looked so extremely tired sometimes that Stiles wondered
if he should send him back to his room, but then again he didn’t really want to
leave Scott alone. He was still ‘sick’ and apparently it really was like a
sickness and Stiles hated to see Scott in such a state.
“Doing what?” Stiles heard Derek snort. The wolf was exceptionally grumpy
around him since the failed assassination attack, which was terribly annoying.
Sorry for not backstabbing, really.
“Planning the tactic, of course.” Stiles snorted and walked to the table to
finally have a glance at what the Hales were planning. On his way he bumped his
shoulder into Derek, just to show him who’s the queen. Naturally, the man
didn’t leave it just like that and pushed back, almost throwing Stiles out of
balance. “Hey..!” the boy snapped.
“Alright children, can we skip the cockfight and talk about why I asked the
queen to attend this meeting?” Peter spoke then, slamming his hands down on the
table, glaring around.
Derek turned toward him with such anger that Stiles though he will say no and
drag him into it. But in the end he kept his mouth shut. Apparently, the latest
punishment he’d gotten from his Alpha was enough to keep him at bay. Stiles
realized he was looking at the Hales in a different kind of light since he knew
their secret and a lot of things started to make sense.
“Why did you call me, then?” Stiles asked, crossing his arms. Peter eyed him
for a few seconds then straightened his back.
“The hunters.” he started. The moment he spoke that word Derek and Cora tensed
up too and Stiles shivered from the tension that engulfed the room. He looked
around a bit unsure then brought his gaze back to Peter.
“Oh, yes, thank you for letting me handle them alone, that was really nice of
you, my king.” he snorted. “What about them?” he asked then a bit alarmed.
“I want them out.” Peter said casually. “They have this horrible habit of…
stinking.” he scrunched his nose.
Stiles couldn’t believe his ears. They didn’t call him to talk about tactics or
that strange incident at the border, but about the hunters.
“Well, then tell them that.” he started throwing his hands up angrily. “They
will certainly apologize and go.”
Peter chuckled, shaking his head.
“I don’t think you understand. I want you to get rid of them, or I will.” he
said, pinning Stiles with his gaze and the boy realized what he meant by that.
“What- Wh… What is your problem!?” the boy started, gasping. “They’re good men,
they fought in the war and now they are just doing their job!”
“They are the first people who’d got converted to the new religion and started
admiring the new gods. These people aren’t really accepting of the old
creatures and old gods.” Derek started.
“They are the same kind of people who killed our family.” Cora continued.
Stiles licked his lips as he eyed the Hales. He was familiar with their past,
he was too familiar with it even, and now that past was here again, haunting
them. “I heard you talk to Argent when they arrived, you were protecting us.”
Stiles sighed, rubbing his cheeks as he listened to Cora.
“How did you—“ he started, but the girl just smirked tapping her ears and
Stiles decided to leave it at that. Stupid werewolf hearing.
“I just bought time for all of us, to know…” Stiles started, looking at Peter.
“To know what to do.” he said at last, waiting for the king’s answer. “If I
refuse…”
“I’ll kill them one by one.” Peter shrugged, not missing a beat.
“That certainly will ease everyone’s suspicion.” Stiles snorted.
“It’s exactly the reason why I want you to handle this matter.” the king
nodded. “It’s the boring way, I admit, but right now I need my attention
somewhere else.” he said.
“Like the border?” the queen asked back, glancing at the maps.
“If you so want to know, then yes.” Peter sighed. “But you have nothing to do
with that. I need you to get rid of the hunters.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?!” Stiles spread his arms. “My father sent
them, they are professional huntsmen, they know about werewolves and they are
suspicious of you all!” he pointed around.
“If they need a werewolf then we can give one to them easily.” Peter shrugged.
“Scott here is up for the heroic task.”
“What?” Stiles asked at the same time as Scott. The queen looked at his guard,
then back at Peter.
“I’m not-“ Scott started but Peter continued talking.
“You might not be able to turn, but if someone would point at you they would
still put you through the trial.” he said, pinning Scott with his gaze. “Your
body’s still infected, you wouldn’t pass that trial. It will be a good excuse
to send them away. Won’t you do that for your king?”
Scott glared at Peter and Stiles saw his eyes flash yellow. He hoped it was not
a sign that Scott’s healing might take more than the months Deaton was talking
about.
“Scott, hey, brother, calm down. No one’s going to send you out as bait.” the
queen started, holding out his arm to protect Scott like that. “I’ll talk to
the hunters, I’ll send them away so you don’t have to tremble from fear up in
this room, you dogs.”
He was angry and that was why he was snappier with his retort. Also, he
wondered if the constant fear of death around Peter wasn’t getting to him. But
he still jumped a little when three people growled at once at him.
“This is your duty now, my queen.” Peter snarled, eyes flashing red. As if that
would intimidate Stiles. The boy tried to pretend it didn’t but yes, it was
just pretense. He swallowed, fisting his hands. He realized this is a test
Peter put him to. He will have to prove that he can protect them from a danger
like this, that they can protect their secret. Peter still didn’t trust him,
but he was giving Stiles a chance to prove his loyalty.
“Fine.” Stiles said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll send them away before anyone
has to die.”
“And do it quick.” Peter nodded with that mocking smile. “Off you go.”
“What, you’re still not going to talk to me about the border?!” Stiles gasped.
“Prove it you earned the right.” the man hissed, out of patience.
“Get out.” Derek grumbled at them and Stiles groaned at the utter stupidity of
the Hales once again. He stormed out and he hated how it was always the way he
has to leave that room, always being sent out like that. It was getting on his
nerves especially now he knew that important things were being discussed in
that room and he wasn’t a part of it.
Stupid Peter. Stupid Derek. Stupid Hales.
“Stiles.” Scott started as he was fuming. “It’s fine, you don’t have to-“
“No, it’s not fine, Scott!” the queen turned around. “I’m going to do this and
no one will get hurt.” he stomped, flailing his arms. He was sick of Peter’s
threats, that he was always using someone else to control him. Stiles wanted to
show Peter he doesn’t have to do that anymore; that there are other ways to get
things done.
“You should let the hunters take care of them.” Scott said.
“And what if they got you?” the queen asked back. “No, Scott, right now I must
get rid of the hunters. I need to calm their suspicion somehow.”
“You’re way too obsessed with Peter lately.” his guard remarked quietly and it
made Stiles stop to stare at him.
“What?” he frowned. Scott sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s… nothing.” he sighed at last. “I just… I was just talking to Derek about
it, and he told me about the… thing.” He muttered. Stiles had to think for a
second what the ‘thing’ was but when he realized it he went pale. He grabbed
Scott and pulled him to the nearest room.
“He told you?!”
“He did!”
“Wha- when how?! Why?!” Stiles gaped shaking the boy.
“He’s helping me train, you know. And we talk. Sometimes. Though he’s not that
talkative.” Scott started. “But he told me about when… he gave you a dagger,
right? And you didn’t use it.” As the guard was talking, Stiles didn’t know if
he wanted to choke Derek first or Scott. None of them could understand?!
“I decided not to kill him!” he hissed. “It wouldn’t be good for the country.”
“If he were dead Derek would take over and he said he would put the old king
back on the throne!” Scott insisted. “It would have been a simple solution,
Stiles, and you didn’t do it. Why?! What was he doing to you, did he say
something?”
“Why is everyone thinking that Peter told me anything?” Stiles spread his arm
angrily. “It’s not Peter, it’s the country and-“
“You’ve changed and he’s the one who did it.” Scott said. “When you got married
you wanted to kill him, you were afraid of him, and now you… you’re going to
protect him from the hunters. Stiles, he doesn’t have the right to be on the
throne, he is a creature of the old religion--!”
“You’re a creature of the old religion right now too, does that mean I should
throw you into prison for treason?!” Stiles shouted which made Scott silent. “I
thought so.” the queen sighed, stepping back. It was actually a blow that Scott
didn’t seem to trust him, but it didn’t mean he should change his ways. Right
now his highest priority was Peter and no one else. “I’m sorry.” he swallowed,
then turned to leave. He didn’t care if Scott was following him or not. He was
too busy imagining how Derek and Scott were talking about Peter and him behind
their backs and plan on assassinations and treason. It was alarming.
Suddenly, Stiles felt a whole lot more alone than before.
To try and occupy his mind with something, he was thinking about a plan to give
the hunters their ‘bear’ and he actually had an idea. He just had to send a few
letters.
--
A few days had passed since the hunters had arrived at the fortress. Stiles
sometimes visited them as a good queen should. They kept asking about Peter who
refused to see them, raising their suspicion more each day and making Stiles’
days pretty difficult. Even he barely saw Peter while the hunters were in the
fortress. Or any of the Hales for that matter and apparently an order was given
to Scott too as he was excusing himself a lot when Stiles was dining with Sir
Argent. Way to go, leaving him alone like that. Though Stiles didn’t blame him,
for Scott he was one of the enemy right now, but the queen knew that it will
all be well in the end.
Then, one of those dark nights a roar cut through the silence.
“It’s here again!” people shouted as a huge monster rumbled through the yards.
It gave a horrendous roar, trashing everything that came into his way and
reminding the people of a beast from not long ago. Guards could barely restrain
it and it didn’t react to the arrows shot at it.
Stiles licked his lips as he was watching the beast rampage the ground just
like on that other night. It was the same monster.
Only, not really. Stiles knew the beast who had bitten Scott and killed the
guards was Peter, a werewolf. The beast down there on the grounds was a huge
grizzly bear. Exactly like the one from the rumors. Scott was standing next to
him by the window, watching as the guard captain tried to handle the situation
with little luck. The bear was huge and strong and wild from the injuries and
the smell of blood threw it into a desperate state.
“They say it came through the ice cellar underground.” Scott muttered in
disbelief. Then turned to Stiles. “You don’t seem surprised…”
“It’s because I’m more worried that if a bear could find its way inside the
fortress twice, then what about the enemy?” Stiles answered a bit cold, his
gaze glued to Sir Argent finally pulling a spear to take the injured monster
head on. He did the same as Scott, using a spear to stab the beast, but he
aimed for the neck of the bear. The animal didn’t waver. It reached with its
huge claws toward the man, when a sudden attack from behind stopped it. A sword
cut through its strong chest like it was butter, stopping his heart once and
for all.
It was Peter’s sword. Stiles’ lips tightened as he was watching the scene where
the hunter realized his new king was standing by the corpse of a bear, wiping
his sword on its fur. He greeted him with cold politeness and Stiles knew he
wasn’t fooled, but his men were and that was enough. He had his ‘bear’ and
there was no excuse to search for werewolves anymore.
They got the ‘beast’, they killed it and now they could go back to the old
castle. Stiles sighed, watching Peter slip his sword back into its scabbard. He
hated how his heart skipped a beat just because he could finally see him again.
The king looked around, then slowly raised his head to watch Stiles. His
confident smirk was intact and the boy knew he will get a visitor soon.
 
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Betaed by Evy~
Peter didn’t invite Stiles to a meeting this time, but visited him one late
night when Scott had already switched with the night guard. The king wanted to
talk to his wife in private. After all, the boy really did everything to prove
his ridiculous oath to him and it was fun putting Stiles to the test. But if he
wanted to play this game more, he had to throw some meat at the boy.
“I’m impressed.” Peter started as he walked in Stiles’ room and slowly closed
the door. “You could actually make the hunters leave and with such an
outstanding plan.”
“It was outstanding, alright. But it cost more guards than I thought.” Stiles
said, getting out of his bed. He was about to sleep, not having expecting Peter
that night.
“Where did you get the bear?” Peter asked, frowning slightly in amusement.
“I have my connections.” the boy shrugged, eying the king. “Did I pass the
test? Can I play with the big boys now? Will you trust me?” he asked, stepping
closer.
Peter snorted, shaking his head.
“You proved you can do anything to reach your goal.” he started, placing his
hands behind his back. “You proved you would do anything to gain my trust.
Why?”
“I told you.” Stiles huffed.
“For peace.” Peter rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Of course.”
“You still don’t trust me.”
“I don’t.”
“Why?!” the queen asked loudly, stomping. “I protected you and your family from
the hunters, twice! Was that not enough?”
Peter’s expression darkened and he walked up to the boy. He was so persistent
and so noisy and just so thickheaded. He wasn’t fun anymore, but trouble.
“Stiles.” He started. “I will never trust you.”
“Why?!” the boy frowned.
“Because you’re the son of the king who ordered to kill my family, because on
our first night you didn’t hesitate to run a knife through my throat, because
you are not respecting me, you’re afraid of me and you think you see me, but
you don’t.” Peter said growling.
Stiles swallowed because most of those things were true, not all however.
“I can see you.” he answered, shaking his head. Peter was afraid of that
answer. He didn’t want Stiles all clever and aware; he proved he was smart and
his attention was all on Peter and the man didn’t like that. He didn’t like the
way Stiles was looking at him for a lot of reasons and he hated to admit it,
but one of the feelings that cut into him when Stiles’ eyes found his way to
him was fear.
“You are a child, Stiles.”
“And you’re a coward!” the boy retorted shouting.
“I can’t afford to trust you- You can’t protect me, that’s the stupidest thing
anyone ever told me!” the man hollered back. “I don’t need it, Stiles, look at
me, I’m king, I’m absolute, I don’t need protection!”
Stiles didn’t answer him, just glared at him and Peter knew he wasn’t buying
his bullshit anymore. The boy really saw something and Peter got scared. He was
so tempted to tear the boy’s throat out right then and there.
“If you’re so eager to help me, I put you to one last test.” he continued,
fisting his hands by his sides. “If you think you’re so smart then tell the
voices in my head to stop it.”
“What…?” Stiles blinked and Peter could finally see the fear in his eyes. How
do you fight against insanity, after all. The man knew he had won.
“I’m insane, Stiles. I’m aware most of the time.” he continued and walked
toward the boy. Stiles took a hesitant step back, but Peter didn’t stop, only
when Stiles’ back hit the wall. “I see things that aren’t there, I hear voices
and screams and sometimes I think I’m sleeping but I’m not.” the wolf
continued.
“Peter…” Stiles started, licking his lips and clearly at a loss of what to do.
The expression was like oil to Peter’s fiery rage, so he went on.
“They scream and shout and they don’t give me a second of peace. They are
always here, judging me, cheering me on, telling me secrets. The old gods, the
new gods, my family, my niece…” Peter continued louder and louder. “How do you
want to fight against things that aren’t real for you, huh, Stiles? How do you
stop the voices?!”
Stiles didn’t answer, just closed his eyes for a second in distress. Peter
could hear the hitch in his breath and how his heartbeat picked up from the
rising panic.
“Answer me, my queen!” Peter roared at last. “Answer me, how do you stop the
voices?!” he shouted and the next moment it was silence.
Peter was so shocked suddenly that he couldn’t move. It completely caught him
off guard. The silence. It knocked the air out of his lungs so he had to catch
his breath. His hands slowly moved to his ears just to find Stiles’ palms
against them.
Stiles was covering his ears with his hands. Peter frowned and pressed his own
hands against the boy’s, finally raising his eyes to meet the queen’s. He
stopped the voices. He asked him to stop the voices and he did just that.
“Is it working?” he heard Stiles’ scared whisper. The boy’s fingers were
shivering softly under his hands. Peter realized he’d lost against him. He
lost. He just slowly nodded, taking a deep breath.
--
He wasn’t woken up by a scream. Instead, the first sound he heard was a steady
beating of a heart. Someone very alive was laying under him. Peter sighed
softly and slowly opened his eyes. He was in Stiles’ bed, his cheek rested on
the boy’s chest. The queen’s arms were cradling his head, one hand covering his
ear, still. Peter sighed again when he remembered last night. Stiles swore
loyalty to him and he proved he can and will do anything in his power to stand
up to Peter and support him.
Stiles could make the voices silent and even Peter didn’t expect that. It was
terrifying. To think that someone had such a control over him. Someone who was
smart and determined and just like him. Stiles told him once that he didn’t
want to be like him and Peter knew how much strength that took. The boy was
still pure in some aspects, he could still trust, he could still gather the
courage for that and that was one of the few things that made them different.
Peter never thought this will happen, he had never seen Stiles as strong as
now.
Peter heard the change in Stiles’ heartbeat and he knew he was surfacing from
his dream slowly too. His hand slipped from his ear down Peter’s cheek and he
needed a second to realize who is with him in bed. The man slowly smiled as he
listened to that young heart pick up its pace in recognition and turned his
head to meet Stiles’ sleepy gaze. Again, some awful urges hit Peter; like
leaning over and kiss him good morning. But before he realized how he’s not
doing that any longer, he was already brushing his lips against his wife’s.
“Good morning.” Stiles’ hoarse, morning voice was something Peter didn’t expect
to make him feel this warm. All this cuddling, and good morning kisses and
touches were making him nervous and annoyed and yet, he was still staying. He
had a meeting early in the morning, probably in half an hour, but he wasn’t
intent on getting out of this bed. Even when it got uncomfortably warm. Then
Peter picked up the scent of lust. Oh. Well, at least he could work with that.
The king shifted, slipping one of his thighs between the queen’s legs, pressing
against his pretty obvious hardness. It made Stiles shiver in the most
delicious way. He wanted it. Peter frowned a little, cocking his head to the
side as he was looking down at Stiles.
“Do you need the drug?” he asked.
“I don’t need it.” the boy answered, licked his lips and pushed himself up on
his elbows to meet Peter’s mouth once again. His kiss was demanding and almost
challenging.
“You’re not going to cry, right?” Peter chuckled against his lips, teasing, and
grinned when Stiles punched his shoulder.
“You were rough then!” he complained, but anything else he was about to say was
silenced by Peter’s next kiss. “I… want this now.” he managed to mutter between
hungry kisses. Before Peter could answer Stiles pushed at him and turned them
around, straddling his hips. The man tensed a little, ready to draw a dagger by
instinct but when Stiles pulled off his night tunic revealing his naked,
flushed skin Peter got tense in a different way. He couldn’t help giving a
shaky sigh as he was looking up at Stiles. His skin was light, bearing hundreds
of small moles and Peter had the urge to kiss them one by one and when he was
done he would do it again. And again. And maybe he would gnaw on that shoulder
too and suck on that neck… As Peter was thinking about all the things he wanted
to do to Stiles’ body he had to realize he is the first person who made him
react to the flesh this way since the fire.
Peter was sure he will never touch anyone again, and he didn’t have the urge
for it either. But right now, he just wanted to take Stiles and touch him, and
caress his cheeks and taste his skin and wanted his smell all over his body. He
was snapped out of his thoughts by Stiles’ kisses all over his jaw, and when he
was slowly licking a trace down his neck,Peter let out a growl.
“Not the neck…?” Stiles asked quietly, licking his lips, and Peter shook his
head and quickly got rid of his own top.
“Not the neck.” he said and reached out to cup the back of the boy’s head as he
decided to suck the skin on his collarbone. Oh that mouth was something really
sweet and Peter got tempted. “But you can do something else.” he groaned as he
arched his back a little, pressing his hips up against Stiles’. The recognition
on the boy’s face was adorable and the blush creeping on his cheeks was
absolutely appetizing. He was still such a virgin, but his act was of a lustful
teenager, what he was supposed to be. He quickly untied Peter’s trousers,
tugging them lower and the man could see the hesitation.
“I’ll guide you through.” he started and sat up, slipping his hand back on the
back of Stiles’ head.
“I—“ Stiles started, but then licked his lips and Peter decided he wanted his
lips on him and right now.
“Remember how I did it the other day?”
“I- I actually do.” the boy answered, closing his eyes for a second. Peter
didn’t give much instruction after that but gently pushed at Stiles’ head to
urge him on. The boy shifted and leaned down, finding his place between Peter’s
legs and still licking his own lips, driving the man crazy.
Then Stiles tilted his head and pressed a kiss on the top of the hard flesh
before he slowly reached for it. His fingers were long and warm and trembling
and Peter let out a sigh. Stiles started with small licks, just getting used to
his taste, his shape and his length first, Peter knew, but it still drove him
insane. His breath picked up and he felt sweat break on his forehead. The first
sound that left his throat was when Stiles pressed his tongue flat against his
heated member and licked it hard.
“Enough.” Peter gasped, tightening his grip on Stiles’ hair. “Of that.” he
panted, trying to regulate his breathing but when the queen slipped him inside
his mouth without a warning it was all futile. Stiles was a natural. And then
he started sucking and Peter growled from deep inside his throat in pleasure.
Stiles lapped at the underside of his sensitive spot and bobbed his head and
sucked in the most sinful way and Peter was suspicious that he learned it from
somewhere. But it was impossible, because he would be able to tell, he would
smell that other traitor who dared to teach the queen’s mouth such naughty
acts. The bare thought that Stiles was with someone else made him growl and not
from pleasure.
“Peter?” he heard the boy’s unsure voice and he realized that his claws were
out. He forced them to withdraw and cupped the boy’s cheek to draw him back to
him for a kiss. “Don’t you want me to finish?” Stiles asked between kisses as
he straddled his lap again.
“I want to finish inside you.” Peter panted, slipping a hand down and squeezing
Stiles’ back. His erection bumped against the cheeks of the boy and his body
demanded to be buried inside him as soon as possible. So Peter reached toward
the nightstand just to have Stiles beat him to it. He retrieved the little jar
with the lubrication. It was Deaton who made it for Peter’s request especially
for the wedding night. The man had no idea he will use it more than once.
“It’s going to be empty soon.” Stiles commented as he unplugged it and looked
inside.
“Not a problem.” Peter said and took it from the boy. “I’ll get you as much as
you need.” he added, looking up at the boy. Stiles swallowed, but cocked his
chin up in a challenge.
“You better.” he said and watched as Peter dipped two of his fingers inside the
container, slowly warming the material between his fingers. Then he reached
down to start preparing the boy.
Stiles let out a trembling sigh and put his hands on Peter’s shoulders, leaning
a bit forward as the man was widening him. Peter tilted his head to kiss
against his temple, then down his face just to nuzzle into his ear. The boy was
so willing and so young in his arms and the sounds he made were going straight
into Peter’s cock. Stiles was getting more and more impatient even if he was
still wincing at Peter’s second finger.
“Hurry…” he choked out, leaning his forehead down on the man’s shoulder. His
body was trembling faintly. Peter let out a small chuckle and decided to give
the boy what he wanted. He got the leftover lube from the jar and reached
around Stiles to coat himself.
“Then… have what you so want, princess.” he smiled and chuckled at the glare
Stiles gave him.
The boy licked his abused lips once again as he looked down and Peter’s gaze
lingered on his face. He was still so young, but not anymore. He was broken
once and mended together and he was already an adult, but his face in the
scarce morning light was still a face of a seventeen year old boy. But when
those golden brown eyes met Peter’s ice blue gaze, it wasn’t the look of a boy.
It was the look of a queen.
Stiles cursed as he lowered himself on Peter, feeling the burn and the
stretching, but the lubrication was doing its work. Peter put his hands on
Stiles’ thighs, impatiently squeezing the flesh there a little . He purposely
didn’t touch the boy where he wanted it just yet.
“Shit…” Stiles cursed as he was slowly working his hips, taking more of Peter
inside his body. His skin was flushed and slippery from sweat and Peter had
never seen him more beautiful. Then, Stiles sat down on his cock, taking it
inside him to the hilt. His body was sitting tight around Peter, shivering from
pleasure and pain. His hands dropped to cover Peter’s on his thighs and the man
squeezed his fingers reassuringly. Maybe for the first time, he smiled softly
at the boy.
“You look beautiful.” he told him in the faintest whisper and he could hear the
hitch in Stiles’ breath. He was looking at him with a dazed expression, with
parted lips and slightly confused. Peter immediately regretted saying that out
loud, because Stiles answered him. Though not with words, but Peter knew what
he said. He could feel it from the beating of his heart, from the hitch in his
breath and how his fingers were holding his hands tighter. “Move.” Peter said
to snap Stiles out of it and it worked.
“Shut it.” the queen gasped and lifted a little from Peter’s cock to slam back
down.
“Slowly.” Peter grunted and placed his hand on Stiles’ ass to control his
movements. The tip of his fingers were brushing over where they were connected,
giving him a satisfied feeling. Stiles wasn’t anyone else’s but his. He made
Stiles slip almost all the way off before going back down with agonizingly slow
movements. “Yes, that’s it.” Peter praised him whispering and kissed into his
neck. Stiles whimpered and put his arms around his neck, holding onto him as he
was riding him with the pace Peter set.
Stiles was panting against his ear, shivering and twitching on his lap,
sometimes even calling his name, but pressing his lips against his cheek to
stifle it. He was getting close and he wanted more and he grew even louder when
Peter changed the angle of his hips and this time he thrust up.
“Oh, to the gods..!” Stiles gasped out, clinging to Peter.
“Do you want it?” the man asked, and reached out to cup Stiles’ cheek, making
him look at him.
“Yes, yes I do.” the boy begged, turning his head to kiss into Peter’s palm. “I
do- I uh- ah..!” he couldn’t say anything more as his husband’s fingers slipped
around his erection and started pumping. Stiles was so loud that Peter was sure
the guards outside could hear everything and he didn’t mind, he was even happy
about it. More people should know that Stiles is his and his alone.
Peter couldn’t just hear Stiles, he could feel him. Every little shiver and
jump, and the way he tightened around him seconds before his release, and that
was what threw Peter over the edge too. He gasped out, pumping Stiles while he
was rolling his hips in an erratic pace to claim Stiles as his and lose himself
in such pleasure he didn’t know he would even experience. For a few seconds,
Peter drowned in the sensations of Stiles’ body, his scent, his voice; the way
he was still having his arms around him and clinging to him when both of them
were spent. With a small wince Stiles moved to slip off Peter’s cock, and
settled on his lap.
“See… I don’t need the drug.” Stiles wheezed, then turned to nuzzle at Peter’s
cheek. A movement the man wouldn’t have tolerated before, but now he didn’t
mind. Indeed, he turned to kiss Stiles again. It wasn’t a hungry or a demanding
kiss, it was small and intimate and it made Peter feel things, which scared
him. He wanted to break it but Stiles followed him and kissed him again, and
again.
“Stiles…” Peter said his name when the boy slipped his hands into his hair. It
felt nice. It reminded him of times when he had a home, when he hadn’t been
burned alive.
“You don’t like it?” the boy asked quietly, his lips brushing against Peter’s
as he was talking.
“I hate it.” Peter lied annoyed. He was fine with sex, but not with intimacy.
Especially not with this boy.
“Good.” Stiles snorted and ruffled Peter’s hair a little with a low chuckle. It
was all getting too overwhelming, too intimate again and Stiles’ small laughter
didn’t help it. Peter didn’t need this, he didn’t want this, he wasn’t cut for
intimacy and love anymore. Yet, he still felt something move deep inside him,
which made him feel vulnerable and weak.
“I told you I hate it!” he snapped weaker than he intended and reached for
Stiles’ arms to pry them off. But then he froze. Noises from outside the
queen’s door reached his ears. It was Scott and Derek outside and apparently
Scott wasn’t a fan of knocking.
The door opened the next second as Scott marched in to wake the queen up. But
yes, Stiles was already wide awake and not alone.
“St- uuuh…” Scott started but as he finally realized what his eyes were looking
at he paled. Peter involuntarily slid his arms over Stiles in some kind of way
to show that he was his, and enjoyed Scott’s expression pretty much. It was
amusing.
“W-would you mind?!” Stiles shouted at the same time as Derek grabbed Scott’s
wrist and dragged him out of the room. Peter chuckled, turning his head back to
Stiles, watching him blush madly from embarrassment.
“You should really teach him to knock.” he commented, reaching out to brush the
back of his fingers against red cheeks. Stiles shook his head.
“It’s not that we really needed him to knock before.” he swallowed, looking at
Peter. “Why was Derek here too? Am I keeping you from somewhere?” he asked,
raising an eyebrow and the king knew what he wanted to hear. They indeed had a
meeting that morning before breakfast about their next battle at the borders
and Stiles wanted to be there. He was working hard for that right and Peter
decided to give him a chance this time.
“I’ll tell them to postpone it after breakfast and you can come too.” he said
and he heard Stiles’ heart race again.
“What? Are you serious right now?”
“No, I’m joking.” Peter deadpanned, rolling his eyes. For a second he was
afraid he had made a huge mistake inviting Stiles to the meeting.
“And why not right now?!” Stiles asked. “We shouldn’t make them wait- ow!” he
started but gasped out of pain when Peter decided to slip his fingers between
his legs and tease his entrance. The man could feel his own seed leaking out of
the boy and he had to shiver from the sensation. It wasn’t just him anymore who
wanted the boy, but his wolf too. Which was a completely different thing to
handle.
“Rest and eat first, I need you at your best and not in pain for that meeting.”
Peter commented and pushed against Stiles to nudge him off of his lap.
“And who’s fault is it, that I’m in pain, huh?” Stiles rolled his eyes as he
crawled off Peter, shivering a little at the pain and loss of warmth.
“Oh, don’t start whining now.” the king sighed and moved from the bed to get
dressed.
“You’re not going to eat with me?” Stiles asked.
“No.” Peter answered simply and threw on his clothes, before he attempted to
leave.
Stiles didn’t push the matter more and Peter was glad for it. He left without a
word, walking out the door. Derek looked at him kind of disgusted as he passed
him and hurried after him.
“What’s wrong, my nephew, jealous that I can get some?” Peter started their
morning chat as he set the hem of his shirt. Derek didn’t answer and the man
raised an eyebrow at him. “Or you’re just angry you lost the queen from your
board?” he commented amused and Derek just looked away.
“You’re late for the meeting.”
“I’m not, it didn’t even start yet.” Peter smirked. “We’ll be waiting for the
queen to attend.”
“You invited him!?” Derek frowned more, catching up to Peter. “He’s no one to
trust.”
“Maybe not for you.” Peter pinned Derek with his glare. “But I decided to give
him a chance.”
“What are you playing at?” the other asked in disbelief and Peter’s shoulders
tensed. He trusted no one and no one trusted him, not even in his family.
“Let it be my business.” he said at last.
Meanwhile Stiles wanted the ground to open up and swallow him because the whole
thing was so embarrassing. Scott was his best friend, yes, but he had never
expected him to see him in such a situation and especially not with Peter.
Though Scott’s expression when he was back in the room wasn’t one of
embarrassment, it was more one of worry. “Scott?” Stiles frowned at him,
gathering the sheets to cover himself up. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
The boy just stared at him for a while with a scrunched nose. It was probably
because of all the smells he could detect with his temporary werewolf nose and
Stiles felt even more embarrassed. But he wasn’t sure if that was Scott’s real
problem.
“Scott?” he asked again.
“Did he hurt you?” Scott started, walking closer.
“What- what no. No he didn’t.” the queen frowned. “Actually, he was quite, uh,
nice. If you know what I-“
“I know!” Scott shook his head as if it was an answer he knew he would get, but
then again didn’t want to hear. “What are you doing, Stiles?!”
“What do you mean, I’m waiting for breakfast.” Stiles shrugged, pretending he
didn’t know what Scott’s problem was. Apparently his friend didn’t take his
evasion well. “I’m…” Stiles started, but then bit his lips. He wasn’t exactly
sure what he was doing, and the part he was sure of he didn’t want to share
with Scott. Not yet.
“I got invited to the Hales’ meeting.” he started with the good news. “Finally
I’ll be able to look behind the scenes. I can help establish peace, Scott.”
“There’s already peace, Stiles.” Scott started.
“Not in the whole country.” the queen frowned. “If Peter can’t win that fight
there, there won’t be peace. People won’t accept him as their new king. They
will forever be in doubt if he was the right one and the rebels at the border
will make sure of that.”
“He is a rebel too!” the guard stomped.
“He was a rebel.” Stiles snapped back, glaring at Scott. “He is the king now
and his words are absolute. If anyone goes against him, they are committing
treason.”
Scott didn’t answer, but Stiles was sure he wasn’t agreeing with him. Still.
“Scott…” he started and stood up from the bed, wrapping his covers around
himself. “I’m doing this for you, for all of you. I want the country to be
peaceful again and flourish after years of war.”
“And you need to…” Scott started motioning over the bed for that. “You need to
do that for it?”
“No... no, that’s…” Stiles sighed, rubbing his cheek a bit embarrassed.
“Stiles, I don’t know what he did or said to you.” Scott said. “But you’re not
thinking straight anymore. Peter is not going to bring peace.”
“That’s what Derek told you?” the queen asked annoyed, because he hated to be
told off like this. Especially by his best friend, even if he knew that Scott
was probably just worried.
“His own family doesn’t trust him, Stiles, how can you?” the guard continued.
“He isn’t like your father, he is a warrior and he’s mad. He shouldn’t be on
the throne any longer and you are one of the people who can do something about
it.”
“What can I do Scott, huh? Maybe stab him in the back? Is that what the country
wants?”
“It’s still better than sleeping with him!” Scott snapped. It caught Stiles off
guard so much he was speechless. He saw blame in Scott’s eyes next to worry.
His friend didn’t expect this kind of choices from him and he couldn’t
understand him. Of course, Scott could have had his personal issues with Peter
too, but Stiles knew he wasn’t like that. Maybe the country really wasn’t as
accepting of Peter as Stiles first thought? It was an alarming thought and it
stabbed into his chest like a knife.
“He can still be stopped and Derek will hand the country back to your father.”
Scott continued, seemingly realizing that Stiles was unsure. “No one will blame
you…”
“Blame me for what, that I just wanted the fight to end?!” Stiles snapped but
it was weak. He swallowed to try and wet his dry throat but it didn’t help. He
felt faint and unsure. Just when he finally gained Peter’s trust it happens
that maybe it isn’t the side he should have taken. Maybe he was just blinded by
his own foolishness and inexperience. Maybe he should listen to Scott and
Derek…
“Leave.” Stiles said at last, sitting down on his bed. “I’ll take another guard
for the day.” he added and didn’t look at Scott. He didn’t want to see his
expression, he didn’t need it.
Scott was trying to oppose, he was trying to stay and talk to Stiles about his
issues, but the queen had enough. He had other things to worry about, he had to
prove to Peter that he can be trusted and well used in the war meetings. So
after breakfast, Stiles didn’t hesitate to make his way toward Peter’s
chambers.
He knocked before entering and as he spotted Cora, Derek and Peter by the huge
table he immediately felt the tension. Stiles felt a bit better knowing that
Peter must have gotten the same kind of speech like he had received from Scott.
He took a deep breath to calm down and tried not to be distracted as he walked
in. Derek turned his head toward him, eying him like he was some kind of
traitor.
“Well good day to you too.” Stiles snorted at the man, crossing his arms. He
walked past him to stand between him and Peter.
“How was breakfast?” Peter asked absently.
“Awful.” Stiles answered without looking at him and he could judge by the small
snort that the king wasn’t in a good mood either.
“Well, now that everyone’s here.” Peter started, eying the maps. “I’ll review
the situation.”
“Peter.” Derek started in the last attempt to stop his uncle from sharing
information.
“Derek.” Peter snapped and Stiles couldn’t help but jump a bit at the strange
volume of his voice. “Are you going against my orders? Again?” the king asked.
“No.” the man huffed, sharing a look with Cora. Peter was waiting for a few
seconds then continued. He was mostly talking to Stiles because he was the only
one who didn’t know anything about the situation.
“These are not regular people.” Peter started.
“They are werewolves too, aren’t they?” Stiles asked, glancing up. The king
raised an eyebrow at him and pulled a smirk. Stiles liked to believe that he
was impressed. So Sir Argent’s sources were indeed reliable.
“Yes.” the king nodded and attempted to continue. “Their leader is called
Deucalion, they are smart, strong and fast. They are loyal to the old king, but
that’s just for show. They know that if we, the Hales, stay on the throne we’ll
be the most powerful werewolf pack.” he said. “Their resistance caught most of
the rebel’s attention and they could form a small army to go against the royal
army. We cut their supplies, they are surrounded, but they are not afraid to
use other methods for the sake of victory.”
“What- what other methods?” Stiles frowned.
“Magic.” Derek answered annoyed. “They have two very powerful emissaries with
all the knowledge of the old gods’ power.”
“Magic…?” Stiles whispered. It was his grandparents who established the new
religion, who decided to follow the new gods and thus causing the old religion,
the old gods and all their creations to disappear. Stiles wasn’t sure why
exactly, but apparently the old traditions were still around and they were
causing them trouble right now. That meant that magic still existed in their
world. Apparently. “But… you have an emissary too.” the queen started then
frowning.
“We do.” Derek nodded, looking at Peter pointedly. Peter just tilted his head
to the side, smiling, but he wasn’t happy. It looked like they were talking
about this before with his nephew.
“But I’m not sending him there.”
“Why not, he can help our armies.” Derek started.
“I don’t trust him.” Peter hissed. Stiles pursed his lips. He vaguely wondered
if working with people who would stab you in the back was indeed difficult
especially when you are trying to prove you’re powerful. But he was here to
bring Peter to victory and he will do that.
“So.” he started, licking his lips and tried to break the tension. “We have a
group of werewolves at the border who still fight for the old regime. But their
real reason to fight is because they can’t handle another werewolf pack
claiming to be royals… They are strong, fast and use magic.” he muttered, eying
the maps. “What does it mean they are strong?” he asked.
“It means their armies and their pack are strong too. Deucalion’s pack is
different. They aren’t family, they are bonded only by the pack law.” Peter
started. “Each and every member of their pack is an Alpha, with unimaginable
strength.”
“That’s reassuring.” Stiles sighed. So they were up against angry werewolf
Alphas who could use magic and they were practically unbeatable. Also, the
issue was even sensitive.
“What if we expose them?” he asked. All the heads turned toward him as if he’d
just committed murder. “Think about it. If you expose them, you will get more
support on your side and maybe their own people would turn against them.”
“And there is also a possibility of more of the people joining their side,
Stiles.” Derek started annoyed. “The old religion isn’t as dead as you and your
father thought. It still exists under the surface, people still practice it.”
“But that’s…” Stiles frowned, because what Derek said indeed caught him off
guard. Practicing the old religion was forbidden since his father was on the
throne and he thought it was indeed a successful conversion. He thought the
country was happy for the new religion. It was modern and clear and offered
redemption. It wasn’t as scary as the old religion.
“What is it?” Derek started, catching Stiles’ hesitation. “Suddenly you’re not
so confident anymore. Maybe it’s because the world isn’t like Your Majesty had
imagined?”
Stiles swallowed, narrowing his eyes at Derek. It was indeed a blow to know
that the world wasn’t like he imagined, but it didn’t mean his plan was bad.
“If you expose them… “ Stiles started, looking into Derek’s eyes accepting the
challenge there. “You can use the hunters to your benefit.”
The Hales groaned, scoffing.
“It was just a few days since they left and you want to bring them back?” Cora
asked.
“They can apparently hunt werewolves, which means they have methods you might
not even think of.” Stiles said, flailing a bit. “Come on. Apparently anything
goes in this war right now. Expose this Deucalion guy, tell the people there
are still werewolves around, watch them be scared and fight against them. You
can use their fear.”
Using fear wasn’t a new thing for the Hales, Stiles knew. Most of their
underdogs were around because they were terrified. Though, the queen had to
wonder exactly how many people knew the most frightening secret of the Hale
family.
“Use fear, use the hunters…” Stiles insisted. “And I think you should go too.”
he looked at Peter.
The man raised an eyebrow at him, trying to read him. Calculating if Stiles was
being serious, or if he had a plan.
“You want to send hunters there, and you want me to go too?” Peter asked,
completely ditching the idea, but Stiles shook his head.
“It’s been months since you’ve been on the battlefield.” he started. “You
didn’t win those battles back then because you were strong. But because people
fear you.”
Stiles knew that what he was saying was dangerous. Sending Peter to the border
together with hunters to fight strong werewolves. It was crazy, but it could
work.
“The hunters will focus on the Alpha pack, not on you. Expose them, send
letters and messages all over the country and then march there with everything
you’ve got.” Stiles said.
“It’s certainly a desperate method, don’t you think?” Peter asked back,
crossing his arms.
“You can’t be serious! We could end up in danger too; the whole country will
start hunting for werewolves again.” Derek snapped, motioning over the room.
“For the werewolves who are causing trouble at the border.” Peter said, glaring
at Derek. “I conquered a country, I can handle this too.” he decided nodding.
Stiles sighed. It really was a damn violent tactic, and it could backfire too,
but desperate times call for desperate measures. He stayed for the rest of the
meeting when they were discussing the details of the attacks and more
strategies. Since it was Stiles’ first strategy meeting and he was still
inexperienced he had a hard time coming up with ideas, but apparently all those
war tactic lessons indeed came in handy. Stiles could finally feel like he did
something real for the country.
 
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     Betaed by Evy~
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The preparations for the new wave of battles left the fortress pretty hectic.
The news about werewolves spread like wildfire and people started more rumors
and gossips. Everyone was giving their opinions and Stiles had never seen the
court in such racket. He had heard all kinds of opinions and he wasn’t sure if
people were against the old or the new religion, or if they were angry at
werewolves or afraid of them. For a second he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea
to expose such things to a country right after war and with a new king who
himself was a werewolf too…
“Maybe they will calm down when the battle is won there.” he muttered mostly to
himself as he was thinking about it.
“You’re thinking about the war again.” Peter sighed and stopped kissing along
his neck. “Why?”
“Because…” Stiles sighed, swallowing and looking up at the king. He had an
answer for why he was thinking about it. He was worried out of his mind. Yes,
it was his idea to send Peter there, and the king decided to go, but it was
utterly dangerous too. Stiles couldn’t even start on how many traps there could
be and Peter will walk right in the middle of one. “Because you’re leaving
tomorrow, and I’m wondering if we’re prepared.” Stiles sighed, squirming a
little under Peter. They were already after dinner and somehow shifting the
mood into something less innocent came easier by the day. Stiles was surprised
every time it happened so easily without that knot in his stomach, he mostly
felt excited rather than scared. But Peter still didn’t like to be touched too
much.
There were bruises on his wrists from when Peter had enough of his fingers on
him and pinned the boy down on the bed or table. This time, it was a table.
Their first time on the table. Stiles refused to roll his eyes, but he was at
fault too, because he couldn’t stop kissing Peter right after dinner before
they could reach the bed a few steps away. He was getting greedy and sometimes
he lost his self control a bit too much when he was with Peter. These occasions
were growing alarmingly passionate and Stiles started to get worried.
“And you’re thinking about throwing a celebration while I’m away.” Peter
chuckled and snapped his hips against Stiles’, making the boy groan. “It’s such
an entertaining thought it makes your mind too occupied while I’m buried this
deep inside you.”
“No, it’s not…” Stiles sighed softly. It was true he was thinking about life
without Peter, but not a feast. He just… couldn’t imagine how life will be
without Peter. He will certainly be gone for weeks, maybe months. That thought
wasn’t really reassuring. Stiles squirmed again to try and free his wrists from
Peter’s grasp. He wanted to touch him.
“What are you doing?” Peter chuckled, pulling out just to thrust back in a bit
more forceful.
“I- I want to touch you. You don’t have to hold me down anymore…” Stiles
moaned, throwing his head back as Peter held him down tighter, and rolled his
hips against him, thrusting into him. “And I want you to t-touch me.” Stiles
swallowed.
“You want, you want.” Peter hummed against his ear, sliding his arm under his
waist to change the angle of his hips. “What about what I want?” he asked,
smirking against the boy’s ear, working with his hips in a steady rhythm. His
abdomen sometimes brushed against Stiles’ hardness which was the worst teasing
he could imagine.
“What… what do you want?” Stiles asked out of breath, throwing his legs around
Peter’s hips to urge him on.
“I want… you… to not touch yourself while I’m gone.” Peter said.
“Wh-what…?” Stiles’ breath hitched but then his brain couldn’t work anymore
when Peter finally took him in his hand and started stroking him. The king
quickly pushed him over the edge with all too practiced movements.
“You heard me right.” he panted as he was thrusting into Stiles. “No one should
touch you while I’m gone.” he breathed.
“Why... would…” the queen groaned, holding onto Peter’s shoulder finally now
that his hands were free. But he couldn’t talk anymore because the man turned
him on his stomach to drive back into him. The table wasn’t like the bed, it
wasn’t soft and it smelled and Stiles will forever remember what they’d done on
their dinner table from now on. Maybe that was Peter’s plan all along…
“It’s just what I want, Stiles.” Peter breathed as he thrust into him with wild
and erratic movements. His release was rough and violent and Stiles still felt
a hint of fear when Peter got like this. It seemed too insane; it reminded the
boy of how Peter was not exactly sane .
“Alright…” Stiles sighed out of breath when Peter finally pulled out of him.
“Alright, it’s not a big deal. Just… just promise me you’ll be back.” he panted
and wanted to get off the table, but the man pushed him down. “What..?” Stiles
frowned looking behind him and he couldn’t help his blush when he realized
Peter was watching him. He was enjoying the sight of his own seed dripping out
of Stiles. His expression was so smug and so satisfied that the queen had
gotten embarrassed.
“Stop that.” he whimpered and moved to get Peter’s hand off him. The king just
chuckled, but in the end he let Stiles get off the table. The boy wobbled on
his feet since he still wasn’t used to this kind of discomfort, but Peter
steadied him and leaned in to kiss him. He was kissing him a lot lately and
Stiles didn’t hate it. Quite the opposite.
“It’s an order, Stiles.” Peter said and walked him back to the bed. “I will
know if anyone has touched you, or if you have touched yourself.”
“Peter, you’re awful.” the boy sighed, blushing. “How should I know how long
you will be out? What if it’ll be months?” he asked snorting and got the covers
to warm his cooling body. He preferred that Peter would have done that, but the
man wasn’t up for cuddling. Kisses were all he got and Stiles was fine with
that so far. “Try to be safe, alright?” he sighed as he watched Peter getting
dressed.
“Stiles.” Peter snorted, looking at him almost offended. Of course, he was
Peter Hale, he was always safe, he was always a winner; he was the king. And
Stiles was worried for him as if this would be his first battle. He felt like a
fool.
“Then don’t try to be safe, be reckless, be violent and get yourself killed by
other werewolves.” the boy snorted, waving his arm at the other.
“You’re not going to kiss me goodbye?” Peter asked and Stiles could hear the
mocking tone in his voice.
“Pff, kiss yourself goodbye.” he said, pulling the covers over his head.
“You just said you were going to miss me.” the man cocked his head to the side,
walking to the bed. “You’re acting like a little kid, Stiles.”
“I didn’t-“ the queen started and emerged from under the covers again to give
his husband a piece of his mind. But the king covered his lips with his, ending
their argument.
In the end Peter didn’t just demand a kiss from Stiles but stayed a few more
hours. Stiles liked to believe it was because he will miss him too. Maybe. If
Peter was even capable of missing anyone.
Peter took Derek and Cora with him, and also most of the guards to travel to
the border and finally decide the battles there. Stiles and the rest of the
court escorted them out until the gates of the fortress. When the king and his
men were gone behind the forest, Stiles didn’t know for a second what he should
do. He raised his glance at Scott and he tried to imagine how their life had
been before Peter entered it and he couldn’t exactly recall it. Maybe he
changed, maybe the way Scott was looking at him, he didn’t know. But something
had definitely changed.
--
In the absence of Peter Stiles attended to his duties, went to his classes,
practiced some harp even and spent most of his time in the library. He was
trying to talk to Scott, but it was difficult. There was still a kind of
tension between them. Stiles had never thought he will once have totally
different political ideas from Scott, but apparently these were such days.
One day, as they were sitting in the library again, a girl was asking
permission to enter. Stiles had seen her around a few times, even talked with
her over dinner. She was a servant, but Stiles noticed how soft her skin was
and her hands didn’t look like they belonged to a servant. Actually, she was
kind of an enigma.
“Your Majesty?” she smiled at them. “May I talk to you alone?” she asked when
Stiles motioned her to enter.
“Uh, we’re alone.” Stiles said, looking at Scott. “I mean, I don’t hide
anything from Scott.” he said grinning. Scott was trustworthy, but Stiles still
had a bit of a scare whenever a servant asked to talk to him. He didn’t want to
be assaulted again thank you very much. Scott smiled reassuringly at the girl
too.
The servant nodded and hesitated still, eying Scott. But in the end she walked
up to them.
“I came here to… tell you about my services, Your Majesty.” she started. “I’m
called Heather, and I’m a professional bringer of love.” she smiled, bowing a
little.
Stiles blinked a bit dumbly, then glanced at Scott. His guard was actually
pretty flushed and nervous suddenly. His eyes were pleading, trying to tell
Stiles to figure this out himself, because he was a bit embarrassed to say it.
But when Stiles was still clueless Scott sighed.
“She means, she’s… you know, she can make you feel good.” he said, clearing his
throat. Stiles perked up, frowning at Heather.
“You mean yo- Oh!” he gasped, then gasped again pointing at Heather, then
looking at Scott. Then stuttered something again with a laugh.
“Your Majesty?” Heather frowned, tilting her head to the side. “Is there
something wrong?” she asked.
“No, no I just… I’m just…” Stiles laughed nervously. “I mean, you want- you
want me to cheat on my husband?”
“It’s not a sin, Your Majesty. I’m from the family who served kings and queens
way before your time to experience the pleasures of the flesh with someone they
want to be with.” she smiled. “Your marriage wasn’t out of love, you married
for peace and power. But that doesn’t mean you should never experience the
passion of love.”
Stiles blinked utterly surprised as she was talking. So she was from a family
who served the royals? Basically, they only sold their bodies to kings and
queens who didn’t feel the love and passion toward their wives and husbands?
“You mean… you mean I could…” Stiles started, stuttering. “I mean, you’re here
to… so we can..?” he pointed between them and Heather nodded.
“I’m here for your service. You can use me any way you want.” she said.
Stiles was speechless and he was relieved that Scott was too. They were both
flabbergasted.
“Wow.” Scott snorted looking at Stiles, with a raised eyebrow. “She’s
something.”
“Yes, I mean… no I mean… let me think about it!” Stiles stuttered, blushing.
“Thank you uh, Lady… Heather, I- I’ll think about it.”
“I thank you Your Majesty to consider me as one of your lovers.” Heather smiled
shyly and bowed before she turned to leave. Stiles swallowed as he watched her
go. It was strange, but he remembered the night before Peter had left. He made
him promise he won’t let anyone touch him and now someone came here to offer
themselves. Maybe Peter knew about this? Maybe Peter knew about these people
way before…
Stiles frowned and looked down at his chest, because he felt like something was
piercing it. But there wasn’t anything there. Just his heart…
“Stiles.” Scott started when Heather left. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing now?” the queen snapped out of his momentary daze.
“She’s pretty and she would do anything you ask! And you sent her away!” Scott
said motioning over at the door. “You don’t want her?”
“Wh- Scott she could be a spy!” Stiles started the best argument he could pull
for this. Because saying that Peter made him promise to not touch anyone while
he is away sounded way worse.
“A spy, Stiles?” his friend raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I’m just… I’m just not interested?” Stiles shrugged, flipping a book
open near him.
“Are you still afraid of Peter?” Scott asked quietly and his friend sighed. It
wasn’t like that, quite the opposite.
“No, no I’m…” he started. “I just don’t want this.”
“You’re strange.” Scott commented and Stiles snapped the book close.
“You know, I hate this.” he said. “I hate this, that whatever I do you look at
me with those judging eyes and comment on how weird I am.”
“Because you are.” The guard insisted.
“I just changed, Scott. I set my sails to the new winds, it’s called survival.”
Stiles snorted, rubbing his forehead.
“It’s fine if you admit you’re afraid of Peter, Stiles.” Scott started
compassionately and it just made Stiles even angrier. He wasn’t afraid, not
like before. It wasn’t just that, but Scott apparently didn’t believe him.
Because you could be either afraid of Peter or angry at him, there were no
other options. Right.
“So if I sleep with Heather it means I’m not afraid of Peter, is that what
you’re saying?” Stiles asked.
“No. I’m just saying that now at least you can, you know, have a little fun.
You can relax a bit.” Scott said, leaning closer to Stiles. The queen sighed
groaning. He didn’t want to have fun, he wasn’t in the mood.
“Did you know about them? These… whoever they are, royal… bringers of love.” he
asked pointing toward the door with his chin.
“I head rumors, but I never thought it’s real.” Scott shrugged. “All I heard
that it’s a family, but they are not related by blood. It’s more like the
eldest of the family adopts orphans and raises them to be masters in seduction
just for the sake of providing lovers for kings and queens.”
“Who are the members?” Stiles asked after a moment of thoughtful silence. He
wondered if his father and mother had secret lovers, or if anyone offered
themselves to them. He was  curious, but it wasn’t a subject to be discussed in
a letter…
“No one knows, it’s a secret group, you know.” Scott shrugged. “But at least we
know Heather is one and apparently she’s one for you. You’re going to let this
pass? Peter won’t be back for weeks, maybe for months, he won’t even know.”
Peter would know, Stiles thought. But it wasn’t the only reason he was
hesitating over this matter.
“I’ll think about it.” he sighed at last, to end the conversation.
That day, Heather was present to help serve Stiles’ dinner and the queen’s
curiosity got the best of him so he invited her over for the night. Out of pure
curiosity, he told himself. But when Heather was standing in his room all
smiles and being mysterious, Stiles got nervous. He already felt like he was
cheating on Peter somehow, even if nothing was happening yet other than Heather
stepping into his room.
She had a soft smile on her face and her dress was reminding Stiles of a
flourishing civilization from the south long lost. All light and creamy white;
just pop loose that golden button by her shoulder and it would reveal all her
secrets. And yet, she would still possess many, many more. Stiles licked his
lips and patted the bed next to him to invite Heather over to sit down. She
bowed and walked over with light steps, her hips swaying in the most delicious
way and Stiles swallowed.
Heather was indeed someone who was born and raised to be what they are; to
bring pleasure to the luckiest kings and queens. She sat close, her thigh
brushing against Stiles’ and the boy could feel the heat of her skin even
through their clothes.
“What do you desire of me, Your Majesty?” Heather asked, smiling sweetly and
Stiles felt himself blush. She was pretty. Not as pretty as Her Grace Lydia, no
one was that pretty, but she had nothing to be ashamed of.
“Just… call me Stiles, alright? I mean, if we’re…” the queen started, throwing
his hand weakly into the air. Though he didn’t finish his sentence, because he
wasn’t really planning on doing anything with her, he was just utterly curious.
“Stiles.” Heather nodded, still smiling. She was patient, she was perfect.
Stiles sighed, eying her a little. Heather’s curly blonde locks were falling on
her shoulder and she smelled like a kind of flower, Stiles wasn’t sure which
one. Her grey eyes sparkled secretively as she was looking back at her partner.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, reaching out for him and brushing his shoulder a
little.
“I uh… just…” Stiles sighed, and tried to get himself together. “I’m not sure
how to… oh gods.” he said then watched as Heather reached for the button on her
dress. “Wait, wait!” he said holding up his hands, stopping her and thankfully
he was in time.
“Don’t you want to see what I’m offering to you?” she asked playfully, but
dropped her hands in her lap. When Stiles was unable to answer she continued.
“Your Majesty… Stiles, if you’re not fond of my body there are others I can
point in your direction.” she started, tilting her head to the side.
“What do you mean, what others?” Stiles frowned.
“If you prefer a male lover, Danny would be glad to offer himself.” Heather
smiled. “He works at the stables-“
“I-I think I know who Danny is, yes.” the queen stuttered, blushing again. Who
knew Danny was one of the... royal courtesans too. “No, I- I just want to know
more about you, in general.” He said.
“Aah, that’s nice. You like to talk.” Heather giggled and leaned back on the
bed with a sigh. “What would you like to know?”
“For example… are there others of you? I mean- how many?”
“Your Majesty, I’m not answering boring questions.” she smiled. Stiles bit in
his lips. Apparently she wasn’t going to talk about her family, or the other
lovers.
“So… so I have you and Danny to choose from?” he asked, frowning.
“For now, yes.” she nodded. “If you’re not sure Majesty, you can still try me.
I’m well trained and highly educated in many aspects. You won’t be disappointed
in me. However… I’m better with my hands and Danny’s having pride in being
extremely skilled with his lips.”
Stiles buried his flaming face in his hands. Somehow he could barely believe he
is having this conversation. It was also unbelievable that he’s about to turn
her down.
“You’re doing this for a long time?” he asked.
“I was raised for such a reason.” Heather nodded.
“What else do you do?”
“Boring question.” Heather smiled.
Stiles sighed, rubbing his forehead.
“You offer your services to all kings and queens?” he tried.
“Yes, but a member of the family is guided to only one of the royal couple. So
I’m all yours.” Heather said.
“This means… you offered your services to the king too?” Stiles asked and he
hated how his voice quivered at the end of that question. Why was it a big
deal?
“Yes, but it wasn’t me personally.” Heather answered lightly. Stiles froze and
he felt a cold wind hit him. Suddenly, it all made sense. That’s why Peter
asked that ridiculous favor of him. He knew about Heather and her ‘family’, he
knew what they offered.
“Did the king…?” Stiles turned to Heather but he saw that she will entitle his
question boring and won’t answer. But why was it important anyway? Why did it
matter if Peter took them up on their services or not? Stiles wasn’t sure, but
all he knew was that he felt like a fool and suddenly really sick. “Oh…” he
sighed, looking away.
Heather just smiled, almost understanding, and reached for him, digging her
slender fingers into his hair. Stiles shivered at the touch because it was a
long time ago since anyone had touched him with such softness and care. Peter
wasn’t soft, he was forceful and violent and even his soft touches held that
underlying roughness of a wild animal. Her touch wasn’t anything like Peter’s.
She made him look at her again and then leaned in to brush her soft lips
against his.
She smelled of flowers, her shape was petite and fragile and she wasn’t Peter.
She was far from anything that was Peter, Stiles thought. And he pulled away.
“Your- Stiles.” Heather started gently, tilting her head. “It’s alright, I can
come back later.”
“No, no don’t.” Stiles started, shaking his head a bit confused.
“Then shall I inform Danny…?” she asked, frowning as the queen stood up and
walked a bit away from her.
“No, no Danny.” Stiles shook his head as he hugged himself. “Not now, I…” he
started, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll need your services.” His
words made Heather drop her smile and frown at him confused.
“Your husband would never know. We’re discrete.” she spoke and thankfully that
made Stiles easier to get himself together.
“That’s good news, but I’m still not interested in your services.” Stiles
stomped, turning toward her. “And this is final.” Heather eyed him a bit, then
sighed. Her smile returned as she stood up from the bed to walk up to the
queen.
“I understand, Your Majesty.” she said. “If you ever change your mind, we’ll be
around.” she winked and walked past the boy to leave. Stiles let out a sigh,
feeling dizzy suddenly. He refused a girl because of Peter. But it wasn’t
because he was afraid of him. It was quite the opposite…
--
Stiles caught himself waking up in Peter’s room. Whenever the night was
stretching too long and he couldn’t sleep, he would get out of his bed and walk
around the fortress. Sometimes he went for the library, but on rare occasions
he ended up at Peter’s room. It was empty, free from any personal things, and
Stiles wondered if Peter even had any.
The first time he had wandered into Peter’s room, he had been surprised that it
didn’t smell like him. There was no sign of his presence at all; it seemed like
any other royal chamber. Stiles had sat on the bed patting the too clean sheets
and wondered what the hell he was doing there. Peter was unfaithful to him, he
was a liar and he might be unable to feel any kind of attachment to anyone
other than himself. Stiles was even wondering if he had been enchanted. He
sighed and laid down on the bed which smelled of cotton and old paper. For a
second it seemed like Peter didn’t even exist and Stiles felt his stomach
clench up. He spent the night there.
After a few days, it happened once again: Stiles slept in Peter’s bed.
Sometimes Scott found him there before he could sneak back to his room and
looked at him with those judging eyes again and Stiles started to hate it.
He was unable to sleep through the night, he got restless and unfocused. His
thoughts were all about the battle at the border and Peter. Which was awful. He
was supposed to be happy and relaxed now that the king was finally away and
maybe hope for his death, but thinking about that was worse. Stiles felt like
he was slowly going mad with every second he spent awake. He was waiting for
the letters from the battlefield, but they were too vague for his taste, and
the rumors were too wild. He was thinking about going there personally to know
how their tactics were working out, but he knew it would just make things
worse.
He’d seen Heather and Danny around and on too hot summer nights he was thinking
about inviting them to his bed. They must have been better partners for the
night than Peter. They would be soft and kind and stay with him and warm his
body in the sweetest way, but they weren’t Peter.
Peter wasn’t here.
Then one late night, when not even the air of Peter’s room could satisfy him,
he got his paper and ink and wanted to write to the armies at battle. In the
end he decided to write to Peter himself. All he could manage to scribble down
was ‘I hate you so much. – Queen Stiles’ and sealed it so only Peter could open
it. He sent it with the fortress’ fastest pigeon and finally he could sleep
through the night in his own bed.
A few days later a letter addressed to Stiles arrived with the battle reports.
It was from Peter personally, sealed with his own seal. The boy opened it by
the dinner table and it read ‘Likewise. – King Peter’ in his own handwriting.
Stiles started to wonder when he swallowed all the stupid butterflies causing a
ruckus in his stomach. It was so stupid and he wanted to tear the letter apart,
but instead he put it in his drawer and looked at it several times a day.
He was thinking about talking to Scott about it. But while his guard and friend
would support him in anything, when it came to Peter their opinions clashed
horribly and Stiles didn’t want to feel more alone.
The battle at the border was won after two months, at the beginning of autumn
which was considered a fast victory. All the werewolves had to go through the
werewolf trial and who was found guilty was cut in half. Of course there wasn’t
any guarantee that they could execute all the wolves, but it was a good example
for the others.
Peter’s kingdom was finally whole and he was heading back to Beacon Fortress
just in time for the first leaves to fall from the trees.
--
The day Peter returned to the fortress meant that his kingdom was whole. Royals
from all over the country came to welcome him and congratulate him on his
victory over werewolves and how hard he would fight for the new religion. The
little trick they pulled gave Peter a few good points with the new church too.
Winning the support of the new church was almost like winning a battle and
Peter finally had had it. His kingdom really will be solid in a few years,
Stiles thought.
It was a busy day and Stiles was expecting it, but it didn’t mean he liked it.
He was sleep deprived and tired and he couldn’t care less about any of the
people. He just wanted to welcome back Peter and get it over with. He was
standing in the Great Hall by the thrones, waiting for Peter’s march to enter
the room, which they did. Peter was walking in front of them followed by Derek
and then the rest of the leaders. They were looking just as tired as Stiles
felt. The queen got informed that Cora didn’t return with them, she had gone
back to their old lands now that the battle had been won.
It occurred to Stiles that the scene was somehow similar to when he had first
met Peter back in the old capital at the beginning of spring. But while back
then his heart was beating in fear, right now he got excited spotting Peter all
safe and sound. Stiles squeezed his fingers as he was watching his husband walk
toward him with heavy steps and a hand on his sword.
“Welcome back.” he greeted him as he walked up next to him. Peter’s eyes
weren’t meeting his, no matter how Stiles tried to seek his gaze. But he did
take his hand and cast a light kiss on his fingers. Just like he did back then.
“The country’s secure, the old beasts are gone.” Peter exclaimed and the room
was filled with a triumphant cheer. But Stiles couldn’t see or hear anything
while Peter didn’t let go of his hand. Those damn butterflies.
Throughout the day Peter had to attend to his duties. He was still the king and
in two months there were numerous tasks and paperwork that was needed to be
done. Stiles was expected to join the merry crowd and enjoy the knights’ game,
then the afternoon sit in the Great Hall and watch their people drink and dance
and sing. The war was really over, the Hale kingdom was about to get stronger
and the new religion was finally absolute. Stiles should have been happy about
it, and he really was. But it was difficult to concentrate when he knew that
Peter was finally back in the fortress. Watching the young couples dance,Stiles
was thinking about these two months without Peter beside him and decided he was
not going to sit around and wait for him anymore.
“I… I need to go to the…” Stiles started suddenly, turning to Scott.
“I’ll go with you.” Scott offered, but the queen shook his head.
“No I’ll be fine.” he said and hurried away before his friend could say
anything. He arrived to Peter’s office just to see a few dukes already leaving.
The queen asked the servants about where he could find Peter and they informed
him the king wished to take a bath before he would join the celebrations.
So Stiles was thinking about going to the royal baths, but he needed to do
something before that.
--
The hot water in the tub made the air hot and stuffy. The fortress’ royal bath
chamber wasn’t as big as the one back in the capital, but for Peter it was
perfect right now. He just wanted to wash off the dust from the road and clean
his wounds. Though he could have gone without the lavender scented oils, he
thought as he was watching the bath servant pour the last bucket of water into
the wooden tub.
“Leave now.” the king told his bath servant and started undressing. The servant
bowed and disappeared behind the folding screen between the door and the tub.
“From the room, too.” Peter barked and heard the servant hiss and hurry out,
closing the door behind him. The king sighed softly and dropped all his clothes
on the ground without much thought. He climbed into the wooden tub filled with
hot, lavender scented water and let out another sigh. As the water reached his
forearm he winced. It was a bite he’d gotten in their last battle. He had a
suspicion that it had been planned to bite him in front of his men, planting
the seed of doubt in them, that Peter will be turned into a wolf too… Peter had
to admit it wasn’t a bad idea, but in the middle of a battle, people pay little
attention. The bite was deep and from an Alpha, so it wasn’t healing as fast as
any other injuries he had, so he had to make an effort to hide it.
Peter rubbed his forehead as he was getting comfortable in the tub, leaning his
head against the side. The warm water was lapping at his chest, actually
calming him down a little. A few minutes later he heard the door open and he
was ready to shout at anyone who would dare to disturb his peace, but the
intruder’s scent was familiar, and that rabbit heartbeat only belonged to one
person. Peter caught himself smiling a little. He moved his head to look over
his shoulder just to see Stiles come from behind the folding screen.
The king was away for only two months, but he could see how Stiles had grown
even in that short time. His jaw was more cut and he had maybe lost some weight
too. Also, he definitely wasn’t sleeping well either. Peter watched as he
walked to stand next to his tub with a tired expression.
“You look awful.” Peter commented to him and Stiles rolled his eyes.
“Right back at you.” he told him and sat down on the edge of the wooden tub.
The king just chuckled and raised his hand to ask for Stiles’ for some reason.
He didn’t know why he did that. He just wanted to hold the boy’s hand. They
were alone, no one could see, it was fine. The queen placed his hand in Peter’s
and he gently grasped it.
“What’s this?” Stiles asked, leaning forward to see the bite on Peter’s
forearm.
“It’s a war injury, Stiles.” Peter snorted, eying the bite too. The silence of
the boy confirmed he was troubled by it too. The queen was thinking about the
same thing Peter was afraid of. “No one saw him bite me.” he lied, looking up
at Stiles.
“Is that true?” the queen asked frowning and Peter wasn’t in the mood to argue
about it. Instead he reached out and pulled the boy in the tub causing the
water to spill over the edge. Stiles gasped out, trying to keep his balance in
vain. He landed on Peter’s lap, soaking wet and smelling of lavender. The scent
reminded him of his wedding day. They bathed him in lavender water that day
too. He wondered if Peter even remembered that silly little detail. Probably
not.
Peter remembered. He remembered the little, trembling boy in the white wedding
clothes with the closed expression throughout their wedding ceremony and that
he smelled like fear and lavender. He was just a scared child back then who
Peter wanted to crush. And now here they were, both of them out of their minds
and bathing in lavender water.
Stiles leaned in to kiss him and Peter welcomed him eagerly. He put his arms
around the strong frame of the boy, once again feeling he’d lost some weight
and Peter felt something he hadn’t in a long time: concern for someone other
than himself. He heard Stiles whisper his name against his lips and his body
reacted. It had been months since they were together and the way Stiles was
kissing him was just making it worse. His eagerness also showed he kept his
promise of staying untouched.
“You kept your promise.” Peter smirked against the boy’s lips.
“Of course I did.” Stiles huffed and shifted around a little awkwardly to get
rid of his wet clothes. “So now I demand- I demand you to satisfy me right
now!” he tried to sound less desperate than he felt. The king leaned back a bit
to watch him shuffle with his clothes, seeing the muscles on his chest and
shoulders flex and glint in the light of the torches around them. Stiles had
grown and he was getting more and more beautiful by the day. Peter licked his
lips when Stiles got rid of his pants and his attention was back on him again.
His queen moved to straddle his lap and Peter’s hands found their way on his
hips, squeezing him. Then, to his greatest surprise, Stiles’ fingers were
wrapping around his member, making him jump. Since when did he become this
sensitive, Peter wondered as he let out a shaky breath, eying Stiles. The boy
noticed his reaction too, judging by the excited sparkle in his eyes, and moved
his hand on Peter. The man groaned, refusing to arch his back to get more of
that sweet friction.
“Wait…” Peter swallowed and grabbed Stiles’ arm when he moved closer to him.
“I’ll…”
“Prepare me?” Stiles asked, tilting his head to the side with a smirk. “I
already did.” he said and placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders to rise a
little. He took the king in his hand again and positioned him at his entrance.
“What?” Peter frowned, then gasped, grabbing onto the edge of the tub at the
sensation of Stiles hot wetness sliding on him. He really had prepared himself
well and Peter groaned instead of calling any of the old gods. He didn’t really
expect to react to Stiles in such a desperate way after only two months.
“Ah… did you get bigger?” the boy breathed, wincing as he was working his hips
to take in Peter.
“You didn’t prepare enough.” the man wheezed, but it wasn’t exactly the case.
Though he wasn’t about to explain it to Stiles just yet. Even he was in denial
about it. “Careful.” he breathed and put his arms around the boy’s waist,
pulling him closer. Stiles whimpered, sliding his arms around Peter’s
shoulders. He was trembling sweetly from excitement, aroused and impatient. His
scent was something that got to Peter, sneaked into his brain and under his
skin, making him growl. He lost his patience and thrust up into Stiles, burying
himself deeper again.
Stiles let out a shaky breath, clinging to him, but Peter didn’t smell fear on
him. He wanted this just as much as the man. It wasn’t helping Peter’s case at
all, he knew he’s going to take the boy fast and rough.
“I missed you…” Peter heard Stiles say against his ear, but his breath hitched
when the king grabbed his erection.
“I can tell.” the man breathed and squeezed Stiles, making him unable to speak
any of his nonsense again. He dipped his head to lick the hot water from the
boy’s neck and leave his own mark behind, sucking and licking against skin that
was bruising too easily and in the prettiest way. He listened to Stiles’ little
whimpers, his curses and his calls for the gods and sometimes he would say
Peter’s name in pleasure and if the man would have a heart it would break. He
couldn’t imagine anymore how it was to miss someone this much.
Stiles rolled his hips, trying to get used to Peter’s size and his roughness
while he was clinging to his shoulders. He felt his husband suck on that spot
on his neck and he saw white for a second. Peter wasn’t soft or gentle, but he
wanted him, he was his husband and he was Peter. Stiles moaned, picking up his
pace as his body was screaming for release. Peter was thrusting deep inside him
wildly, making the water around them spill over the side of the tub from time
to time and Stiles didn’t care. All he cared about was to kiss and touch Peter
and be touched by him and finally ease that ache in his chest.
He called Peter’s name, throwing his head back in pleasure when he felt like
drowning and Peter gave everything to him. He helped him through his release
with familiar movements and small words that meant nothing, but it was Peter’s
voice and his breath and his presence.
Somewhere in the middle of Stiles’ pleasure, Peter’s passed the point of no
return too. He leaned his forehead on Stiles’ shoulder as his body tensed up.
His moans and groans sounded like growls and snarls as he let himself be lost
in his bliss. He could smell Stiles and lavender and their scent together. He
heard Stiles’ pained moan as he snapped his hips against him, riding his own
waves of pleasure, long after Stiles was spent.
Peter’s limbs were trembling faintly when he finally came to his senses, still
holding tightly onto Stiles. He felt water or sweat drip from his temples as he
raised his head, nuzzling into the boy’s neck, then meeting him in a tired
kiss. Well, maybe Peter had missed him too, just a little.
--
Maybe surprising Peter like that in the baths wasn’t exactly Stiles’ smartest
idea, but he didn’t care. They spent the rest of the day in the Great Hall,
watching the people have fun. Though most of the time Peter got approached by
numerous people wanting to talk about the new system and mostly about money and
lands. It was time for loyal dogs to get their share for supporting Peter and
they were in a hurry about it. Stiles watched as yet another duke appeared for
some discrete whispering. The queen sighed, deciding that he will ask Peter
about his underdogs one day. Maybe he should ask him now, he wondered, instead
of the question which really burned his insides.
Stiles caught a glimpse of Heather from time to time as she served wine and he
was sure that he spotted Danny dancing just a few minutes ago. They were his
share of bed warmers, but it meant Peter must have a set of his own too. Which
was fine, really, because why would Stiles care? He felt like a silly little
naïve girl or boy, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to ask Peter about them
back in the baths, but he was just so happy to see him in private, he couldn’t
get himself to ask something that awful. Well, depending to who it was awful,
of course.
The queen ended up with his stupid thoughts once again when Peter left with a
late guest to his office. Stiles watched him leave the party and he felt pretty
tired himself too.
“Stiles.” he heard Scott’s voice as he stepped next to this chair just as Peter
had left. “Derek told me that Peter got bit by a werewolf.” he whispered.
“And how is that relevant, he can’t be turned, he’s already…” Stiles rolled his
eyes, but Scott squeezed his shoulder.
“Of course, but others saw it too.” he pressed. “There are rumors that he’s
been turned.”
Stiles swallowed and suddenly his mouth went dry. He knew what that meant; it
meant that some people indeed had seen that wolf bite the king. If there were
more people saying the same, it was enough to start a trial against him.
“There were already rumors about him anyway.” Stiles shrugged, trying to sound
calm.
“It could be a chance.” Scott said and Stiles shivered.
“A chance for what?” he snapped, turning to his friend. Scott looked at him
almost sad and Stiles didn’t need that. Instead he decided to leave too, he
wasn’t thinking straight anyway and he felt like he could sleep three days
straight. He dismissed Scott for that day and went back to his chambers.
Stiles was convinced that he will indeed sleep for three days, but he had to be
disappointed. He woke up at an ungodly hour when all the celebration was
already calming down and even the drunk were sleeping. There was no moon in the
sky, everything was silent and Stiles frowned up at the stars out his window as
if they personally insulted him. He sat up in his bed, looking around. He felt
like he hadn’t slept at all and his thoughts went to Peter once again. He spent
so many nights thinking about him, and wondering what he would do if he were
back… But now Peter was back, there was no war anymore.
Peter was back and Stiles was in his room, still moping? He decided that’s not
acceptable and got up to wander to the king’s room once again. He took that
trip so many times to find the man in his room in vain, , but this time he knew
he will be there. Maybe he would even be asleep. Did Peter ever sleep? As
Stiles was thinking about it, he arrived to the royal chamber and as he
approached it the door opened. Peter was standing there in his night tunic,
looking just as tired as Stiles felt.
“Come in.” he said in a hoarse voice and Stiles obliged without a word. As he
entered the room the faint smell of lavender hit him and his heart skipped a
beat.
“How did you know…?” he asked once he was inside the room, pointing at the door
with this thumb.
“I heard you. Your steps aren’t as graceful as you think they are.” Peter
rolled his eyes and stepped to his table to pour some wine into a cup.
“Why are you awake?” Stiles asked, suddenly feeling like a fool. Peter looked
at him as if he had just asked something stupid.
“It’s actually your fault.” the king started and went back to his bed, sitting
down and enjoying some wine.
“Mine? If you tell me my ungraceful steps woke you, I swear-“
“Your smell.” Peter started tired and motioned over to his bed with his cup.
“Were you sleeping in my bed?” he asked frowning. Stiles felt himself blush and
he bit in his lips, eying Peter.
“What… what if I did, huh? Is it a crime or what?” he asked, crossing his arms
and Peter glared at him.
“It’s annoying.” he said. Smelling Stiles after two months and not having him
in his bed for real. It was awful. It made Peter so bothered he couldn’t sleep
when he was finally alone. Not that he sleeps much, but he could use those few
hours without a particular individual’s upsetting scent.
“Well, you know what? I’m annoyed too.” Stiles started, throwing up his arms.
“What could it be this time?” Peter asked, emptying his cup and placing it on
the nightstand.
“You knew.” the queen started walking up to Peter. “You knew about… the
courtesans.”  he said angrily, surprising himself that he indeed felt furious
over this. The king tilted his head at him, frowning.
“I did.” he started slowly, waiting for Stiles to continue. The boy fisted his
hands, suddenly feeling that piercing feeling in his chest again. He had to
swallow to steady his voice before he could speak.
“Did they… did you? I mean…” he started then shook his head, closing his eyes
for a moment. “Did you sleep with them?” he asked and he hated that Peter
probably could hear his heartbeat.
“No.” Peter answered and Stiles perked up. Was that a lie? Or was he serious?
The boy knew he was supposed to trust Peter, but it was difficult. Even if this
question wasn’t about the country, it wasn’t even that serious, it was just
crushing his insides for some silly little reason. Peter sighed and decided to
refill his cup so he stood up and walked to the table again. Stiles kept his
gaze on the bed, unable to speak.
“You’re not going to ask why?” Peter asked and moved to him, offering the wine.
Stiles frowned down at the drink in his hand.
“I didn’t know there was a why. Is there? There is a why? Why?” he asked,
trying to sound casual, but really, he was rambling. He took the cup just to do
something with his fidgeting hands and took a sip.
“Because I don’t want them, Stiles.” Peter said sighing. “They were supposed to
be my personal little whores, but they disgust me. I didn’t choose them, and
I’m not interested in them.” he continued as Stiles was drinking more. “I was
never interested in putting my cock into anyone in the first place.” he said,
making the boy choke on his drink.
“Well, you certainly didn’t look like that on our first night.” he coughed
blushing.
“That’s because I wanted to own you.” Peter smirked and Stiles rolled his eyes.
“I continued wanting to own you, and now, you’re mine. My possession, Stiles. I
don’t need and I don’t want anyone else.” Peter said and the boy shivered as he
felt his hands on his waist.
“I don’t want to own them.” Peter continued. “I want to own you.”
Stiles eyed the man at his explanation and the worst thing was: he believed it.
Because it was messed up, it suited Peter’s way of thinking perfectly and
Stiles had to hear such dreadful things to feel better. He looked at Peter,
wondering how he could get to the point of missing him, but then he leaned over
and kissed his lips and Stiles remembered again.
“Alright.” he said in a shaking voice, squeezing the cup in his hand.
“They tried to put their sticky paws on you while I was away, didn’t they?”
Peter asked in a low voice, but the queen could hear the underlying anger. “I
clearly forbid them to approach you. I thought I was placing a good example if
they won’t do as I order.”
“What example?” Stiles frowned, looking up at the king and Peter raised an
eyebrow at him.
“Do you really want to know?” he asked and the boy immediately shook his head.
“No, no I’m fine with not knowing.” he swallowed. “But don’t hurt them
anymore.”
“Oh? Maybe you have an eye on one of them?” Peter asked, tilting his head to
the side.
“Of course not.” the queen huffed. “They are… well, they are just doing their
job, however awful it is. They don’t need to feel even more miserable, you
know?” he shrugged looking up at Peter. The man just rolled his eyes and Stiles
knew that was all the reaction he will get from him about the matter. He just
hoped Peter won’t hurt them anymore. As he was thinking about it, his eyes fell
on the bed.
“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked before he gave permission to his mouth to
even say those words. He sounded desperate even for his taste and he was sure
Peter would refuse him. Didn’t he say his smell on his bed was annoying?
“Only if you stay quiet.” Peter answered and turned to lead Stiles back to his
bed. The boy was the most surprised. He put his cup down on the nightstand and
crawled in bed with the king. He vaguely wondered how Peter didn’t try to turn
this into something dirtier, but he was fine with it. He just wanted to spend
the night and not wake up wondering where Peter could be. His bed was big
enough for four people, but Stiles moved so close he could feel the man’s
warmth as they laid down.
Stiles turned on his side after he pulled the covers up to his neck, facing
Peter and watching him prepare for sleep. Wow, so he was sleeping sometimes
too. The boy yawned, nuzzling into the pillow which still didn’t smell like
Peter, but it was fine because he was laying close to him.
“Peter…” he started and got a groan from the king.
“Stiles.” Peter started, sending a warning glare at the boy, but Stiles didn’t
care. He had one more question for him.
“Did you miss me?” he asked and watched another tired eyeroll from the king.
“Not even a little.” the man lied quietly, eying the boy with a tired
expression. Stiles smiled a little and finally closed his eyes.
Other people have brave heroes on white horses; yet others sleep with women
with lips as red as a cherry and a heart as gentle as the sunshine. Other
people exchange words of affections and caresses on late, orange afternoons.
Lovers cast playful kisses and dance to the music of the forest, yet others
laugh wholeheartedly over dinner. Someone goes to bed with a kiss and a slice
of apple pie made just for them. Someone will wake up to a breakfast a little
burned, but made just for them.
None of these people were them, Stiles thought. He didn’t get a hero or a
cherry pie. The gods gave him a lying, cowardly snake disguised as a wolf. But
it was his share, that’s what he got and that was what made his dreams finally
calm and his chest not that tight.
 
Chapter End Notes
     And... this is the point where my heart started to break for these
     two. IDK man, I just have a lot of feels for them. XD
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     MOLESTATION WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER!!
     Betaed by Evy!
     Updating now, cuz I won't have time tomorrow.
Peter didn’t miss Stiles while he was away. If anything, he was glad he could
finally feel that burn in his blood when he could dig his sword into someone on
the battlefield. He didn’t plan to leave Beacon Fortress for a while, but the
Alpha pack at the border didn’t give him any other choice and Stiles’ tactical
advices were just as useful as Derek’s. Though, the boy certainly wasn’t that
violent in his tactics.
Peter wanted to strengthen his position as king before he goes straight into
battle again. So he left Beacon Fortress with Derek and Cora, leaving the queen
behind.
It was strange having faith in Stiles, or having faith in anybody for that
matter. Peter always used fear and threats to get his way, to get people to act
the way he wants them to, and with time, people offered their help first in
fear of Peter. He threatened Stiles, he broke him; he tried to control him as
he tried with so many before him and it was working. Until it wasn’t anymore.
It wasn’t like the boy grew immune, it was more like… what did he say? ‘Set his
sails?’ Stiles turned the situation to his advantage, to try and work with
Peter and it was frustrating, because he was doing it well. He wasn’t greedy
and violent like Derek, he was thoughtful and wanted the country to flourish
after the war. He was a true King, Peter thought.
Actually, Peter was thinking a lot about Stiles. He didn’t miss him per se, but
he was thinking about him a lot. Whenever he could have a meal, he wondered
what would his queen say about it, or how disgusted he would be that Peter
didn’t wash away the blood from his skin before going to bed, or how hollow his
expression would be if he was seeing him slaying all those men. When Peter was
alone, he was thinking a lot about Stiles’ eyes; those bright, golden brown,
sparkling eyes of his which could talk to him without words and the king
wondered how many times he had seen the boy that he could remember him so
vividly.
His dreams weren’t always about fire or destruction anymore, but about Stiles’
touches and his small takes of breath when he was tasting him. It confused
Peter because he wasn’t dreaming of anything like that before and yet, after a
month of being in battle, the place he believed was his home, he couldn’t help
but think about that stupid boy back in the fortress. Stiles was concerned for
him when he left and Peter caught himself wondering why: for political reasons?
Most probably. Yet, Peter still thought about it a lot.
The king was thinking too much about Stiles. Sometimes he caught himself seeing
him on the battlefield, but that was impossible. It was a weak moment like that
when a wolf could sneak close to him. So close that the bastard could leap out
and bite him in front of his men. The king liked to think he was fast in
throwing off the beast, but you can never know in the heat of the battle… He
had gotten bit by a werewolf and Peter knew there will be rumors about it.
And there were indeed gossips. His men asked how he is feeling, they were
watching his every move and he had to hide his arm and the bite which was
healing painfully slowly, because it was from one of Deucalion’s alphas. Peter
refused to think this will be significant and hoped his men will soon go on.
Hopefully. The next time he even remembered he was hurt was when Stiles saw the
bite at the baths.
Peter was confused, but not because of Stiles; he was confused because he was
at a loss of what to do. He had gotten the whole kingdom at his feet, he was
married into the royal family and he still didn’t feel safe. One dark autumn
night without a moon Peter realized he didn’t feel safe. He partly rebelled so
no one could harm him again, but during the road he lost everything what would
provide the real safety for him. Derek wanted his head, Cora probably wanted
the same, his underdogs demanded lands and power and titles and no one wanted
to stay with him. Peter growled, looking out of his window, wondering about it.
It was an awful realization and it made him glad for the future destruction of
the kingdom. He leaned back in his bed, not really getting why, because he
didn’t feel like sleeping. As his head hit the pillow a familiar scent welcomed
him.
The scent belonged to Stiles, his queen. Peter frowned as he was thinking about
him, again. It was annoying, and it was awful that his thoughts were occupied
with someone this long and this intense. Peter wanted to sleep, wanted to
disappear, but then he would see the fire and the smoke again, and he didn’t
want that, he was tired.
Peter sometimes thought he was sleeping when he was awake, and at times he
thought he was awake when he was sleeping. It made him right out scared
sometimes. Like when he was watching Stiles sleep. He didn’t know if he really
was looking at the queen’s sleeping posture, or if he was just dreaming of him.
Peter didn’t want it to be a dream, because it showed he was going mad in a
different way and he didn’t want it to be real, because it showed he was
desperate. But when the boy moved and gave a sleepy sound Peter realized he was
awake… and his throat went dry.
Stiles didn’t wake up, he just snuggled under his covers. He was warm and
smelled good and he was loud even in his sleep and Peter winced. He wanted to
go back to his room, he didn’t want to get more involved, more tangled up in
this. But he caught himself leaning down and nuzzling against Stiles’ cheek and
then his jaw. The boy sighed and slowly came awake as he felt Peter’s nose and
lips against his skin. Peter expected him to push him away, but he just slowly
reached out and put an arm around his neck. Stiles moved further up the bed and
Peter followed him, he crawled in with his wife, pressing his nose against his
collarbone, inhaling deeply. He felt Stiles’ warmth on the sheets as he slipped
under the covers and moved closer to him. Stiles pulled him closer. He slid his
arms around him without Peter saying anything. Peter realized he indeed missed
Stiles, but not just him: his safety. He could trust his queen and not in the
way he trusted his family, or his underdogs, Stiles provided a different kind
of safety for him, something Peter didn’t expect to even want before. Yet,
there he was, in Stiles’ bed. He was afraid of saying anything, because he was
in a vulnerable position and he knew Stiles knew that, but neither of them said
anything.
Peter settled against Stiles then he felt a hand cover his ears and he sighed.
Yes, that’s why he was there, that’s what he wanted… silence. He closed his
eyes and covered the boy’s hand on his ear. He had never fallen asleep faster
than that night.
From then on, they kept sleeping in each other’s beds, spending most of the
night. Stiles would always stay for breakfast too and it was fine. It was
actually the only time of the day they could be together, Peter realized:
during the night and the mornings. The day either of them had their own duties
or they were tackling the actual politics, which was pretty difficult to
navigate lately. People tried to gain power and lands in the new regime, and
others were raising their worries over the new religion and how violent Peter
was against the old religion.
Between politics and duties, Stiles was teaching him about the stars. Showed
him which one was the one which rose the first and disappeared the last from
the sky. Stiles was talking about the moon too and after that Peter didn’t feel
that much afraid of it. It wasn’t a goddess, but rather something created by
the ancient gods to provide light in the night, and when he was thinking about
it, it really could be something giving hope to people. Stiles told him about
the images in the stars, about how the future and the past both could be read
from them and about how the night sky was like a map. They sometimes spent half
their nights sitting on the top of the keep, watching the sky.
Peter was getting used to Stiles, to his presence, to his smell and how he
felt. It felt nice to have someone like him, and yet terrifying too. Peter
started to realize that Stiles was a weak spot of his… and that thought pushed
the boy even more into the ‘weak spot’ category.
--
Stiles didn’t know what he expected when the war was finally over. He really
had little idea, but what happened was strangely nice. A few days after Peter
finally arrived back to the fortress he visited him during the night. He didn’t
actually wake him, he practically snuggled up to him, demanding to lay next to
Stiles. And the boy was more than eager to welcome him, because that was all he
wanted. He could hold Peter, he could make sure he was next to him, and he
wasn’t away fighting some war and getting bitten by other werewolves.
After a few days, Stiles dared to ask for breakfast while he was still in
Peter’s room. It was a strange feeling spending breakfast in his bed, with
Peter still being there, but somehow they could manage. Then it started to
happen more often and sometimes Peter would stay with him too. It was nice.
They were talking too. About politics, mostly. They weren’t talking about
anything personal much.
Weeks went by like this and Stiles was sure that this will be the new rhythm
and he didn’t mind. He thought he could get used to it.
Then Scott walked up to him one day after his classes.
“Your Majesty.” he started and Stiles looked up from the book he was reading.
Scott was only official like that when he had something serious to discuss.
“May I have a word?” he asked. Stiles couldn’t help biting his lips and nodded.
“What is it?” he asked and blinked when Scott presented him a paper.
“It’s a request for leaving, Your Majesty.” the guard said, looking at the
paper. “I would like to go back to the old capital.”
Stiles froze as he was reading the lines of the letter and listened to Scott.
He tried to look at this in a professional manner, but he just couldn’t.
“You’re leaving me?” he asked then, looking up at the guard. Scott’s face was
scrunched up in a pained expression. He looked away for a second, then took a
deep breath,
“I was… thinking about seeing Allison.” he started carefully. Stiles stared at
him for a while and when he didn’t speak Scott continued. “The war is over and
Peter… seems like he calmed down. I was thinking I could use a little time back
home.”
“Ah…” Stiles started, realizing for a second how it was his home too. It just
occurred to him that he was already away for more than half a year now. A hint
of homesickness hit him and he wondered if he shouldn’t ask Peter for a visit
back home.
“You should come too.” Scott said as if reading his mind. The queen smiled a
little sadly.
“Yeah… Maybe I will.” he nodded. “I might follow you.” he added and took up
Scott’s request to sign it. “You can stay as long as you wish, alright?” he
said.
“It won’t take long…” Scott started, but he seemed really happy that Stiles let
him go for that long.
“It’s fine, I’ll be fine now, I promise.” Stiles grinned.
“You will be fine, it’s Peter who won’t be.” Scott spoke quietly as he took the
letter from his queen and Stiles froze.
“What do you mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“The werewolves from the border, they are still around. They might have lost
the battle, but they can still be around, people say…” Scott continued. “They
might come for Peter.”
Stiles bit in his lips as he was listening to his friend. He couldn’t believe
this. Peter was in danger, probably, and Scott was leaving them…
“Do you know something?” Stiles asked, tilting his head to look into Scott’s
face. The guard just gazed back at him, not answering. For the first time in
his life, Stiles realized he had no idea what Scott was thinking or how much he
knew. They really grew apart these months.
“Alright.” he sighed, rubbing his cheek as he sat back at his table. “So,
you’re going tomorrow?”
“I don’t see why I should wait.” Scott admitted with a shrug, blushing a
little. He was really missing Allison and now that Stiles knew how bad it could
feel, he didn’t blame the boy.
“You really shouldn’t.” he smiled. “And you’re excused for today. Send your
substitute, I suppose you already picked them.”
“I did. He is one of my best guards, Your Majesty.” Scott smiled.
“Tell my father I send him my regards.” he said and waved his hand, dismissing
Scott.
The guard actually hesitated to go, but then he bowed and he went. Scott left
and Stiles met that loneliness he felt again. His throat got tighter and his
chest hurt. Scott didn’t just want to see Allison, he wanted a break from it
all and Stiles didn’t blame him.
Stiles knew that he let Scott go with a light heart, but he didn’t expect him
to already miss him the next day. So to somehow keep his mind occupied he put
through his new guard the most awful queen behavior he could ever come up with.
“Library research.” Stiles muttered and turned his head to Peter who was
standing by the door of the library for a while now. A guard was climbing the
highest ladder to the top of the shelves for the biggest encyclopedia Stiles
could see. Peter raised an eyebrow at the unfortunate fellow then looked at
Stiles. “I hate him.” the queen muttered with a shrug.
Peter just chuckled, crossing his arms and watching how the guard balanced
three books as he tried to get another one. When he was done he climbed down
and presented the huge, dusty books to Stiles with a triumphant grin. The boy
took one and looked at it a bit bored.
“This is the fifth to seventh volume.” he frowned.
“The one you wanted, You Majesty.” the guard blinked, his smile slowly melting
from his face.
“No I said I maybe need the fifth volume, but then I realized I don’t. I need
volume thirteen to twenty.” Stiles sighed and handed the book back to the
guard. “Bring them to me.”
“But—“
“Bring them to me.” Stiles started a bit louder and the guard already ran to
put the books back and bring what the queen asked.
Peter watched the interaction with amusement, then walked up to Stiles.
“Shall I visit you tonight?” he asked and the queen blinked at him.
“If it’s to your liking.” he muttered, but he knew Peter could tell the jump
his heart did at the news.
“Very well then.” Peter nodded, and turned to leave. Stiles watched him go and
wondered lightly how their conversations had changed, and how different their
touches, their words their whole behavior were from when they had started.
Stiles wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, all he knew was that he was maybe
happy.
--
Stiles woke when he felt the bed move a little. It felt like Peter was hovering
over him. He sighed, frowning a little as he opened his eyes and looked up at
Peter who was indeed leaning over him, in a protective stance. Something was
wrong. Peter was half turned into his wolf form. His teeth were long and sharp
and his fur grew on the side of his face. His red, glowing eyes were seeking
something in the corner of the dark room.
“Peter?” Stiles whispered, watching him for a few seconds, because this was the
first time he had seen him this close. Wild and more like an animal. The queen
blinked, still a bit sleepy and followed Peter’s gaze with his. Another pair of
red eyes were looking back at them. Stiles gasped. Peter growled from deep in
his throat, baring his teeth at the intruder. Stiles licked his lips as he was
eying the other wolf too. He had never seen him before; he didn’t resemble any
of the servants. Peter slowly shifted, getting ready to attack and Stiles
swallowed. He opened his mouth to call Peter but the other werewolf couldn’t
handle the tension anymore and jumped at them. Stiles screamed, scrambling away
while Peter met the beast head on.
Peter bit into the other wolf’s neck, trying to snap it, but their attacker’s
physics were much more built than the king’s. He was huge, with eyes so
determined Stiles was afraid to look into them once again. His arms were twice
Peter’s size and apparently he was stronger too. But he wasn’t as fast as Peter
and he was trying to use that to his advantage. Peter could throw him across
the room away from the bed and that bought Stiles time to hide behind the bed
and find some kind of shelter.
The two wolves weren’t holding back and Stiles could hear the wall break as
Peter got smashed against it. Soon the familiar scent of blood filled the room
too. Stiles was crouching by the bed on the ground, watching the two monsters
bite at each other, destroying the room in the process. It was fascinating in a
way, because it wasn’t a sight Stiles often stumbled upon, yet it was
frightening. The boy bit his lip as he was searching the underside of his bed
for a weapon he hid there months ago; it almost felt like years ago.
For Stiles’ greatest relief, he found the dagger and grabbed the hilt of it. He
turned back to the fighting wolves and waited. He had only one shot at this,
his target wasn’t exactly sitting still after all, and if he injures him in a
bad place it might just fuel his violence. Or what if he injures Peter? But
then an opening occurred.
The werewolf pushed Peter against the wall again, biting at him and Peter
struggled to get out of his grip. Stiles jumped over the bed the fastest he
could manage and stabbed the dagger in the back of the monster.
The roar that followed was shaking all of the room and Stiles felt like his
dinner would come back up soon too. Warm blood tainted his hands as he drew the
weapon deeper into the warm body in front of him. He didn’t want to do half
work with it, he wanted to kill the beast.
When he felt like the dagger wouldn’t go any deeper, and that the wolf stopped
moving, he let the knife go and stumbled back. His heart was beating like a
rabbit’s, his limbs were shaking and his hands and chest were covered in blood.
Stiles watched as Peter pushed the corpse of the wolf away from him with a
confused expression.
Then Peter spotted the dagger in the wolf’s back and froze. It was the same
dagger Stiles received to kill him. He slowly turned back to his human form,
but his red glare stayed on the weapon. Stiles swallowed, watching Peter
recognize the dagger he used and why it killed the huge wolf so fast. It seemed
like as if time started to slow down from then on. Peter straightened his back
and raised his gaze to Stiles.
The boy was shaking, and the blood on his hands started to dry and go cold
along with the body in their room. But he was worried about something else: he
saw what Peter was thinking about.
“Peter…” he started, but suddenly he didn’t know what to say or how to say it.
He kept the dagger for Peter, actually. If maybe he changes his mind about him,
or maybe Peter will go feral and try to kill him. It was something Stiles had
to think about no matter how he felt about Peter: his own safety. And he had a
dagger that was useful against werewolves, it would be stupid not to keep it.
“I can explain.” Stiles said and he knew it’s the worst he could start with
right now.
Peter motioned him to shut up and leaned down to take out the dagger from the
corpse with slow, careful movements. It just confirmed that it was indeed the
exact dagger Derek gave Stiles.
“I kept it for… emergencies.” Stiles said a bit out of breath. “I didn’t…” he
started, but he had no idea what to say.
“Emergencies.” Peter finally spoke, eying the weapon. “Am I one of that?” he
asked, with a half smile, but there was nothing happy in it. Stiles had
flashbacks of the time when they got married, Peter had the same expression:
that cold, mocking gaze. Now he was wearing the same face and Stiles felt so
small and helpless. Suddenly, he felt like the last months of his life had no
meaning if Peter could turn this cold against him this fast. He just spread his
bloody arms in a helpless motion. He had no explanation to give and fairly, he
didn’t want to bother anymore. He felt so done. He was done.
“No.” he sighed at Peter’s question, but the man wasn’t listening to him
anymore. He was dealing with the guards who finally could break into the room.
They had heard the fighting and arrived pretty late. Stiles wondered if they
weren’t a bit too late even. But he was more occupied with watching Peter and
trying to make him understand why he had kept the dagger. But Peter wasn’t
looking at him, he ordered the search of the whole fortress for other traitors,
then told the servants to help Stiles clean and give him a new room until they
clean this one from the blood. He didn’t look at his wife during that time.
In fact, Peter stopped talking to him from then on. He didn’t invite him to
meetings and sent him away whenever he visited him. They didn’t spend more
breakfasts and dinners together and Stiles felt like falling. With Scott
missing from next to him he felt like there was no one he could talk to about
it and it just broke his heart more.
At night he dreamed about the blood on his hands, and how warm it felt, and how
red it was. Just as red as Peter’s blaming gaze the last time he looked at him.
Stiles could hear the king’s trust shatter and everything he was working for
these last months had disappeared. He woke up more and more hopeless each day
he found his bed cold and empty. He was wondering if this isn’t the perfect
time to visit the old capital.
The incident also made people more aware of werewolves again. The war might
have ended, but there was a new fear spreading through the country: the fear of
werewolves and the beasts of the old gods. Stiles knew he and the Hales were
responsible for the hysteria, but it seemed like the only way to fight against
that rebelling pack. Yet, after the assassination attempt people couldn’t stop
their blabbering mouths. Stiles heard the rumor about Peter being bitten and
turning into a werewolf again and people started to notice things. It wasn’t
like they were smart, it was just they had gotten more aware.
Stiles wasn’t sure he liked where it was all going. The rumors were more and
more violent against Peter and werewolves, which was just wasn’t fair. This was
exactly the same kind of thinking that made Peter what he was: a cruel,
destructive warlord. But for a more urgent matter, the rumors were turning the
people against Peter. Stiles decided to try to talk to him once again.
“I need to talk to you!” he banged at the door of Peter’s office one day. He
knew the king was inside, having another meeting with one of the dukes about
lands. But as Stiles tried to open the door the guard stepped in front of him.
“His Majesty is busy.” he said carefully. “He also ordered to keep Your Majesty
out of his sight until further notice.”
“What?! He ordered that?!” Stiles gasped, looking at the guard in disbelief.
“Then I order you to scrap all that and let me in!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Your Majesty.” the man said, purely nervous about
the situation. The queen squinted his eyes, considering his options.
“I could send you to dungeon for going against my orders, soldier.” he spoke,
crossing his arms and he watched the man sweat.
“I know, Your Majesty.” he said nodding and didn’t budge. Stiles could barely
believe it. People were still more afraid of Peter than of him. Which was
annoying when it came to a situation like this.
“Then I’m going to wait for him.” Stiles decided and leaned against the wall,
crossing his arms. The guard said nothing, but slowly stepped back to his post,
sighing in relief. The queen hummed a children’s song to himself as he was
waiting. Then suddenly leaped to the door and opened it, barging into the
study.
“Everyone get out!” he shouted swaying his arm around. The duke and his company
looked at him pretty confused, while Peter just pursed his lips in sheer
annoyance. Stiles licked his lips, feeling a rush of embarrassment, but there
was no turning back now. “In the name of the Queen I order you to all get out
of this room so I can talk to my husband!” he repeated. “Or else I’ll throw all
of Your Graces into prison.”
The man stood up, casting a confused glance at the king, but Peter just nodded.
“Give us a few minutes, we were in a need of a small break after all.” he said
with a sweet smile, which had nothing pleasing in it. The duke left, eying
Stiles a bit suspiciously, but the boy didn’t care. He spoke the moment the
door was closed.
“You can’t ignore me forever!” he shouted and Peter put down the letter he was
holding to walk around his desk to Stiles.
“You’re right. I can’t.” the king nodded, stopping in front of the boy, looking
at him. “If you keep interrupting me and my meetings, I will certainly need to
use other methods to keep you away from me. How about cutting off your legs?”
“Again with the threats!” Stiles hissed. “I thought we were over this!”
“Maybe I should cut off your legs and your arms.” Peter mused as if he didn’t
hear the boy. Stiles gave a frustrated noise and pushed him to make him listen.
“I didn’t betray you!” he said, grabbing Peter’s vest and shaking him to make
him listen; to make him understand. No one understood Stiles, people were
thinking that Peter enchanted him, or used him and no one understood. And now,
Peter was deaf for his words too and it was something Stiles just couldn’t
accept. “I didn’t want to kill you!”
Peter sighed as he raised his glance to meet the boy’s. He slowly reached for
his hands to pry them off of his vest.
“But I want to kill you.” he started in a low voice. “Every night we spent
together I would wake up and look at you and think… I could kill him. I could
kill him so fast and so easy he wouldn’t know what had come to him.” he spoke
softly and almost casual and it hurt Stiles more than any shouting he could do.
“Then why didn’t you kill me before?!” he asked and Peter chuckled, as if he
had expected that question.
“Maybe I’ve gotten too fond of the squirming, crying little boy under me.” he
said almost affectionately. “Maybe I just wanted you to call my name in
pleasure and see how you ‘set your sails’.” he smirked and Stiles’ throat went
dry. He remembered all those times Scott or Derek asked him if Peter said
something to him, as if the man would use him or cast a spell over him, and
maybe it was all true. Maybe Peter was just playing with him all this time and
the dagger is just an excuse to finally stop this game. He never wanted to keep
Stiles next to him, or treat him as a real queen.
“That’s not true.” Stiles tried in a trembling voice, but the next thing he
knew was Peter dragging him over his desk and slamming him face down on it,
pinning his shoulders. The boy gave a pained groan.
“And you liked it.” Peter smirked against his ear as he forced his thighs open
with his knee. “You liked every touch and every kiss of mine. You were so needy
for me, you even refused your lovers.”
“Stop this, stop it!” Stiles trashed around but Peter pressed him down the desk
strongly and pressed his hips against him. The boy was more scared than on his
wedding night, but he tried to overcome the feeling. He needed to show Peter he
wasn’t weak, and his threats were going nowhere… Yet, his words were so painful
Stiles felt his fighting spirit slowly leaking out of him.
“You went against everyone for me.” Peter continued. “You have nothing. You’re
nothing but a royal bed warmer. Do you want me to remind you?” he asked in an
amused tone and slid his hand up Stiles’ thigh. The boy gave a yell and tried
to push himself up from the desk, but Peter was impossible to move. “Oh, but
you would like it, my queen. You always like it.”
“Please, I just want to talk to you…” Stiles tried once again, closing his eyes
tightly and praying Peter will be over with him soon.
“Your mouth isn’t for talking, you know.” the king said. “Looks like I need to
remind you of a lot of things tonight.” he added lightly, then stepped back,
letting Stiles go. The boy pushed himself up, but his legs felt weak and he had
to grab onto the desk to not fall.
“Peter…!” he tried but the king called the guard by the door.
“Escort His Majesty back to his room, he’s not feeling quite well.” Peter
ordered and Stiles felt a hand on his elbow. The guard gently, but firmly
pulled him out of the study. The queen’s hands were shaking and his steps were
wobbly as he was walking down the corridor. He didn’t even look back at Peter,
or said anything to him while the guard led him away. He just didn’t have the
strength anymore. His body was slowly emerging from the shock; making him fight
with nausea and a headache as they arrived to the fortress grounds. The fresh
air made Stiles feel a little better so he turned to his guard to send him
away.
They suddenly stopped then and the man let him go.
“Run, Your Majesty!” he yelled then and quickly grabbed his sword. Before
Stiles could even ask what the hell he was talking about someone pulled a sac
over his head.
 
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter was actually longer, but I divided into two chapters for
     reasons. The other half will be updated next week~
     Also, warning for small and dark places!
     Betaed by Evy~
Stiles woke up to distant voices. He hoped it was just servants and what he
thought had happened to him was only a nightmare. But as he moved his head and
smelled grass, he had to realize that his dream was indeed reality. They got
ambushed on fortress grounds and he got kidnapped. What a brilliant day, he
thought as his headache welcomed him with full force too. The queen groaned
from pain and tried to open his eyelids. His whole body felt heavy, his ears
were ringing and he had no idea where he could be.
“He’s awake.” someone said and it made Stiles freeze. He wasn’t alone. Panic
gripped his chest, because he wanted to wake up, wanted to sit up and protect
himself from whoever was talking about him, but his body wasn’t moving. He
blinked to clear his vision and looked around. The first thing he could see was
a fire. The light was soon blocked by a figure leaning over him. Stiles took a
sharp breath out of fear, but he couldn’t scramble away.
“You’re one persistent boy, aren’t you, Your Majesty?” he heard a deep voice
and Stiles blinked more to see the stranger’s face. It was daytime, but his
vision wasn’t exactly clear for some reason.
“Who are you?” he asked and he felt his throat ache. He vaguely remembered
screaming his lungs out a few hours before. Just right after they ambushed
them, but he didn’t remember falling asleep.
“Excuse my rudeness, they call me Deucalion.” the man smirked and Stiles’ eyes
widened. “Oh, so you’ve heard of me? I must admit, I’m humbled.”
“You’re the rebel who was fighting against Peter- the king’s regime till the
end.” the queen muttered and his eyes had finally gotten used to the light. The
man leaning over him was around Peter’s age and fairly they had similar lines
on their faces too. Something only the pain of war could draw on a man’s face.
But Deucalion had a cloth over his eyes. Was he blind?
“Oh I’m no rebel, Your Majesty.” the man said, with a half smile. “I’m just not
enthusiastic of the new king’s politics.”
“Are you afraid that his pack will be the strongest?” Stiles asked and it made
Deucalion laugh a little.
“Is that what he said to you?” he asked almost fondly. “You believe everything
he says, don’t you?” Stiles pursed his lips, glaring at the man. “No, Your
Majesty, my purpose is something entirely else.” Deucalion continued and
reached out to brush his hand against Stiles’ neck, then slipped his hand up to
his face. The boy wanted to move away, but he could just squirm. The man’s
touch reminded him of Derek’s when he scent marked him back in the day.
“Your father was a great king.” the man said surprisingly softly. “His vision
of bringing a new kingdom upon us, with the new gods and the new regime was
something everyone wanted.”
“And do you think I believe you?” Stiles hissed. “The new regime has only the
new religion in it, with the new gods and it kills and detests everything from
the old religion. It means the era of werewolves is over!”
“And then that’s our fate, Your Majesty.” Deucalion nodded and his answer
caught Stiles off guard.
“W-what…? Your kind- your kind is hunted in the new regime, you will all die!”
he frowned.
“The gods know what they’re doing and there are signs that our days are
numbered even without your hunters’ help. In the last seventeen years not a
single werewolf has been born and the bitten wolves rarely transform. The
ancient magic which is running in our blood is getting weaker.” Deucalion spoke
and Stiles gasped. Really. That’s why Scott didn’t turn… it all made too much
sense. Deaton was talking about it before too, but Stiles didn’t think it was
this serious. “Your king is fighting against the gods and it was probably his
goal from the beginning.”
“The Hale Alpha is insane.” Deucalion continued when Stiles could only stare at
him. “If he stays on the throne any longer, this country won’t be able to step
into the new era and the new gods won’t be merciful. The people can feel it
too, Your Majesty. That lingering, tight feeling of fear. There might be peace,
but not the kind you wanted.” Stiles swallowed at that. The bare presence of
Peter on the throne could bring destruction to their lands… what a joy. And
apparently the people were starting to be aware of it too. This is how it feels
to wake up from a dream into a nightmare.
“So it’s all about the country, huh.” Stiles said mockingly. “All that
fighting, all these… assassination attempts. They are all just to put Peter
down and give place to a better king. A king from the new era.”
“You could have been a good king of the new era.” Deucalion said and he might
have been blind, but Stiles felt his eyes on him. “I’m sure your father has
taught you well and you love the country just as he does. Your passion and
strength could have brought this nation to a golden era.”
Somehow, hearing that from a total stranger made Stiles’ chest ache. He really
wanted that. He wanted to bring his country a time where there weren’t any wars
and people could live safely. Maybe under different circumstances Deucalion
would have fought for him, next to him, bringing him to victory and earning the
respect of the new gods. Yet, Stiles was here utterly alone, hated by his own
king too and probably dying for a lost cause.
“Why the past tense?” he couldn’t help but ask, but he had a feeling why. The
nation indeed felt betrayed when he sided with Peter. The people could feel the
power of the new gods and going against them could put a bigger fear in their
hearts than the fear of werewolves.
“It isn’t just threats and pain that can change a man, Your Majesty, love can
do just as much damage.” Deucalion smiled and brushed Stiles’ face one last
time before pulling his hand away. He attempted to go and Stiles panicked. He
didn’t want to be left there, probably alone.
“Why am I here, what do you plan with me!?” he asked and tried to move his
limbs. “And why can’t I move?!”
“I’m not planning anything with you.” Deucalion spoke, turning his head back to
him. “And don’t worry, it’s just a spell, it will wear off soon. But not before
I find a good place for you.”
Deucalion stood up and a woman was waiting for him to lead him back to the
fire. Stiles saw a few more figures sitting around it, but he couldn’t see
their faces. Deucalion sat amongst them and they started talking. Stiles
whimpered, looking around. He was laying on his side near a cart packed with
hay which was probably how they got him out of the fortress. He had little idea
how far they could be, probably not that far. He tried to look around more, and
see where they really were, but the light really was against him, blinding him.
He cursed the gods, old and new, and he cursed Peter the most. Especially when
he saw someone walk toward him again.
“I’m sorry Your Majesty, but I have to put you to sleep again.” a woman’s voice
told him, and she really sounded apologetic. Stiles shook his head and tried to
say how it would be a bad idea, but the next moment he was asleep again.
--
Stiles wasn’t sure how long he had been out, it could have been hours, but days
too. Which really worried him, because he had no idea where he was. That
thought jolted him awake and he looked around. The sudden light blinded him for
a second and he had to wince at the throbbing behind his forehead. He heard
shuffling noises from… above him. Above? Stiles gave a frustrated noise and
raised his hand to shield the piercing sunlight and look up. For one thing he
could move his limbs, which gave him hope that his situation might not be that
awful. He spotted a rope and walls. Tall, brick walls…
“What…?” he gasped, watching the rope disappear above him. “Wait- wait!” he
yelled and stumbled to his feet, looking around. The walls were damp and the
ground beneath his feet was a bit muddy. He was standing on the bottom of a
dried up well. “You can’t leave me here!” Stiles shouted up to whoever was out
there, but he got no answer. Instead that someone started to put wooden planks
over the well, blocking the light.
“No, no stop this! Get me out, I’m sure we can talk about this! Deucalion!”
Stiles screamed, grabbing the walls as if they could make this madness stop.
“Get me out, let me go! He doesn’t even care for me, you gain nothing from
this!” he shouted, jumping a little. “Deucalion!”
All Stiles’ shouting was in vain as the last plank was put in its place,
blocking most of the late afternoon or early morning sunlight. He had no idea
anymore.
“You can’t do this, I’m the queen!” he shouted, but no one seemed to even
listen. Stiles hit the wall in his frustration and continued yelling curses, or
called for help. No one seemed to hear him, yet his own ears were ringing from
his ragged voice.
“You can’t leave me here!” he shouted and he felt his throat getting sore.
Glaring at the planks didn’t help him either so Stiles turned his gaze at the
damp walls. The bricks were wet and there didn’t seem to be a good grip in
them, but that didn’t mean Stiles couldn’t try. The space was only big enough
to take two small steps; it wasn’t made for keeping people inside after all. As
Stiles turned around and only saw the walls in the darkness he got unnaturally
scared. It seemed like a deep well, his voice probably didn’t even reach the
top of it. No one could ever hear him.
“Oh gods…” Stiles gasped, feeling his breathing pick up. He got dizzy and his
limbs were trembling. He felt like he will choke to death. There was no one
there with him, no one to pat his back or hold his hand as he was suffering
through his attack and he had never been any more scared in his life. Not even
with Peter. Stiles wiped the tears off his face in an impatient motion at the
thought of him.
Stiles leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath and not choke to
death. He had things to do, he had to set things right with Scott and his
father and maybe with the country, he had to get out of the well. And that
thought made him slowly calm down. He collected his strength and tried to climb
the wall. When he had little luck with it, he tried screaming at the top of his
lungs, he was calling someone, anyone who could be around. Then he tried
climbing again.
But no matter how he yelled and screamed, no one came. He felt the coppery
taste of blood on his tongue. He shouted so much his throat was bleeding. No
matter how he tried to climb the walls, he always lost his grip on the slippery
stones. He tried to use the sleeve of his tunic to have a better grip but it
didn’t seem to work. It was like the bottom of that well was cutting him off
from the world and pulling him deeper into the ground.
--
At the news of the queen’s kidnapping, Peter was utterly confused. He rarely
got confused, but this time he was. It just didn’t make sense. Why would they
kidnap Stiles? Killing him would have sent a better message to him and to the
country, yet these rebels chose to kidnap him. The king was even thinking about
leaving it as that, because Stiles had no use for him anymore, he didn’t even
trust him anymore. Of course he sent a search party out and a declaration to
every big town and castle that the queen is missing and he offered rewards. But
he wasn’t planning on putting any more effort into it. There was just no point.
If anything, the kidnappers just took away the chance of finishing Stiles off
personally from him.
There was never a letter for ransom. There were three guards killed as the
kidnappers escaped. Rushing to the scene Peter even recognized a familiar
scent, but nothing else. After that he gave the orders for the search party and
offered a price for Stiles and planned to leave it as that.
That evening as he was returning to his room for the rest of the night he
passed the entrance of the library. Peter wasn’t a fan of libraries, he only
hit the books when it was really necessary. Not like Stiles, who would rather
spend hours and days in the library reading books than anything else. It was
admirable in a way. Peter wondered why the hell he’s thinking about Stiles
again and opened the door to look inside. He knew Stiles won’t be there, yet
some kind of disappointment still settled under his ribs.
Peter caught himself listening and smelling into the air to catch his wife’s
lingering scent and he did. It was all over the place, just like the boy
himself would be. Always going somewhere, always talking about something;
moving, talking, being too overwhelming. The wolf looked around, seeing the
empty library, then turned to leave. His way wasn’t leading to his room, but to
Stiles’.
Opening the door of the queen’s chambers, Peter got engulfed in his scent
again. He was using that room only for a few days since the assassination
attempt, but he was already filling it with his smell. However, the boy wasn’t
there. He was missing. He’d gotten kidnapped. He might be already dead.
A growl snapped Peter out of his thoughts. He looked around searching for its
source just to find that it was himself. The thought of Stiles dying made him
so irrationally angry that he was growling. Yes, yes he was angry. He felt it.
Felt the all so familiar bubbling emotion starting from his gut which crawled
its way up to his lungs, making his limbs tremble.
Fury was something he could focus on. Anger was his friend. It gave him power.
Before Peter could stop himself he let out the roar that was running up his
throat. It shook the whole fortress and he hoped the one responsible for his
wife’s kidnapping could hear it loud and clear too.
Peter didn’t hesitate to get a horse and supplies for a few days. He knew no
one will do as well as finding Stiles than him. He considered that it might
even be a trap to lure him out. But then why they erased their scent? It didn’t
make sense, nothing made sense anymore.
“Where are you going?!” he heard Derek arrive as he tightened the saddle on his
horse. Just in time, the king thought.
“To the old capital.” Peter lied. “I’m going to spend some time there.” he
said, looking at Derek.
“In the middle of the night?” the other started, then rubbed the last drop of
sleepiness out of his eyes. “You’re out to find Stiles, aren’t you?”
“Derek.” Peter snorted, looking at his nephew with a pitying smile. “I already
sent out my men to search for him. Why would I waste my time with something
stupid like that?”
“You became too interested in him.” Derek said, spreading his arms and the king
sighed. He turned his head, glaring at the other man. He decided not to dwell
on that issue, because Derek was attacking him for a different reason
altogether.
“But that comes awfully handy to you, doesn’t it?” he started and he spotted
the slight fear in Derek’s eyes. “You can use him to stab me, you can use his
absence to throw me over, oh Derek.” The king sighed, shaking his head. “You
were waiting for this opportunity since I obtained the throne.”
“I have nothing to do with this.” the man stomped, fisting his hands in anger.
At least he didn’t deny the other incident.
“No indeed, this is far more brilliant than you.” Peter nodded and got on his
horse.
“Peter!” Derek called him and grabbed the reins to make the man listen to him.
“This is a warning, can’t you see?! We have no right to the throne; we should
be happy we’re still alive and the new gods were practicing mercy on us.”
“I didn’t know you were so into religion.” the king mocked and attempted to
pull his horse free.
“I am when I can feel the rage of the new gods!” Derek shouted, his eyes were
intense on Peter. “They won’t be merciful to the kingdom, if you keep this up!”
he said and heard Peter’s laugh.
“See you at the old capital.” the king greeted him and pulled up the reins to
finally be on his way. He turned his horse around and kicked her into a dash.
--
Stiles never had to starve in his life. He always had water to drink when he
was thirsty. He was always dressed nicely. He was never cold in the winter and
never too hot in the summer. He complained about swordfight practice and
sometimes about riding lessons, but he never had to do any psychical work in
his life. Scott sometimes teased him about it when they were running around in
the huge gardens and Stiles once again fell from one of the trees. He was
always awful at climbing trees.
The irony was that the queen was sure he will die from thirst soon. He licked
his lips for the thousandth time to try and wet them, but it did nothing. The
walls were humid around him, but there was not enough water for a lick. Stiles
even laughed out loud when he realized he is thirsty at the bottom of a well.
He had no idea how long he was there already, but he felt like it was ages. He
could tell night had already fallen; the sunlight wasn’t breaking through the
splits between the planks anymore.
Stiles leaned his head against the cold stones, still staring up as he wondered
if Peter would come. Then he had to laugh, because why would he come. It was a
stupid idea. They never had anything going on and the king wasn’t about to
bring peace. Stiles got lied to numerous times… Peter could never bring peace,
because he was one of the beasts of the old religion. The new gods wouldn’t
tolerate someone like that on the throne for long. His bare presence was
betraying everything Stiles believed in.
The boy sighed annoyed and rubbed his face. He didn’t want to think about
Peter. He didn’t want to think about anyone, because he burned all the bridges.
He stood by Peter and he pushed everyone, including Scott, away in hope to
create something big and meaningful. Just so he could end up in a well. It
wasn’t worth it.
The night turned into day again and Stiles’ head was throbbing and slight
dizziness hit him. He vaguely thought about how he deserves this and yet, he
couldn’t stop trying to climb out. He tried shouting, but he felt weak and his
voice came out ragged and powerless from his sore throat. If no one heard him
when he could scream at the top of his lungs, then how could anyone hear him
now? But he didn’t stop. Not until he tried climbing once again and fell.
Stiles gave a pained groan when his back hit the stone walls as he slumped down
to the ground.
“Crap…” he breathed when he realized he had no strength to stand up. He cast a
glance up in a last hope to find someone there but he had to be disappointed.
Stiles sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe after a little rest he would be able
to think of something.
--
The worst thing was that whoever had kidnapped Stiles somehow could hide his
scent too. Peter grudgingly thought about how that someone must have known he
was a werewolf and maybe that was one of the reasons they picked Stiles and not
go head on against him. It was frustrating and something Peter hadn’t
experienced before. This kind of helplessness was not like him. He ran his
horse all night and picked up another one the next day so he wouldn’t lose
speed. He was searching for a scent or tracks or anything suspicious and it
seemed like it was in vain. Until a blacksmith mentioned this party traveling
through the town with a blind man on a cart packed with hay.
Peter decided to follow the tracks of a cart and not the scent of Stiles. He
kept on the road for a while, trying to see If they left it or not. He hadn’t
found anything until it had gotten dark again and, fairly, he was losing
patience. Stiles was missing for almost two days now and the situation didn’t
seem too good. Of course Peter thought to himself that he was doing this in
vain, maybe they killed the boy and buried him so deep no one would ever find
him just to make Peter snap. The worst was that Peter indeed felt like
snapping. He realized why they had kidnapped Stiles without any trace, to make
him go crazy over his absence, and it was working. Peter growled again and his
horse jumped in fear.
The land of the country was scorched up, partly by Peter’s own troops when he
was fighting to get the throne. The thing was… the land didn’t seem like it was
getting back it’s old charm anytime soon and the king knew why. The gods didn’t
let it. They had a long, dry summer behind them and the autumn wasn’t bringing
anything promising either. The land was dying and the people could feel it. The
new gods were starting to show how utterly cruel they really are. But Peter
couldn’t help feel satisfaction over it, because this was exactly what he
wanted.
The king was searching through the second night too. All he found was the point
where they abandoned the cart and continued their way probably on horses. The
tracks were difficult to follow, but Peter tried his best to trail the scent of
hay and he didn’t have to be disappointed. It lead him to a burned down house,
much similar to the home he grew up in and was burned in… He jumped off his
horse and hurried over to the remains of the house. It was dark and cold, the
night was nearing its end and Peter wondered where Stiles had to spend the last
two nights. It was already autumn and the winds started to get colder. Peter
took a deep breath to smell the air but there was nothing, only the burned
wood’s scent. It made him slightly nauseous so he quickly searched through the
house but he found nothing.
Stiles wasn’t in the house and the tracks continued away from it. Peter growled
again in frustration as he was walking back to his horse, passing a well. It
was probably all dried up he wondered. Though as he walked past it something
caught his attention. He didn’t know what exactly, all he knew was that
something wasn’t right with it. Since he was desperate for clues he stepped to
the well and patted the planks covering it. Then he realized. It didn’t have a
scent; it didn’t have that old, peculiar smell that wells and old wooden planks
usually had. It was enchanted.
With a curse Peter quickly pushed off the planks and looked inside. It was
really dark and a human probably wouldn’t have seen to the bottom of that pit,
but Peter could. He saw someone down there, sitting down, resting against the
wall.
“Stiles!” he called, but the boy didn’t move or answer. “Stiles!” Peter tried
again and looked around for rope, but of course there wasn’t any nearby. He
decided to check the house for it once again.
--
It was cold and damp, and Stiles wanted to fall asleep. But he couldn’t.
Instead he was floating in this awful state where he was half asleep and half
awake. He felt every bit of the cold around him, no matter how his body was
trying to fight against it by shivering. After a while, he didn’t even tremble,
he didn’t have the strength. His head hurt and it hurt to breathe. Sometimes he
thought he heard something or someone, but whenever he looked up, he had to
realize it was just his imagination. This time too, he thought he will find
himself back in the darkness again, so he refused to open his eyes. He didn’t
want to see those planks again.
The next thing he knew was that someone yanked him by his shoulders. Stiles
whimpered, because it wasn’t exactly gentle and suddenly he felt slight nausea.
He heard someone say something, but he couldn’t understand what, because he’d
finally gotten pulled into unconsciousness.
--
Peter figured it won’t be easy, taking an unconscious boy out of that god
forsaken well, but he tried his best. Thankfully, he found some rope he could
use in his little rescue mission. As he laid Stiles down in the grass he
noticed that his hands were trembling. It was strange, because he felt nothing;
no fear, no anger, not even relief… but there must have been something his body
remembered, because he couldn’t stop trembling. Stiles was breathing weakly,
and his heart was beating a lazy rhythm and it was all so surreal. To get
himself together Peter hurried to his horse to get his water flask to bring it
back to the boy.
The king gently slipped one of his hands under Stiles’ head to tilt it up a
little and made him drink. For a second he though it will be in vain, but then
ever so slowly Stiles regained consciousness. When he seemed to realize he
could drink, he grabbed Peter’s hand to keep the flask by his lips.
“Not so fast.” Peter started and pulled the flask away, ignoring Stiles’
whimper. “You’ll get sick if you drink too fast.” he said.
Stiles swallowed and licked his lips, apparently coming to his senses. His eyes
were unfocused as he was looking up into Peter’s face, not recognizing him for
a second.
“Peter?” he asked blinking as he attempted to sit up. The man helped him,
keeping his hand on his back. Stiles looked around to see where they were and
to check what exactly happened. He spotted the well not far from them and his
breath hitched. His whole body started to shiver from cold and from fear again.
“You can’t be too sick if you can still cry.” he heard Peter’s silky voice as
he brushed the back of his fingers against his cheek, wiping some of his tears.
Stiles looked back at Peter with eyes wide and lips parted. His ears were still
ringing and his headache threatened to blow his head off. But more than
anything, he was confused.
“Peter?” he asked again in a weak, raspy voice. “Wh…” he coughed a little and
looked around again, wiping his face.
“Can you walk?” the king asked and offered the flask again. Stiles took it and
tried to gulp most of it down, but Peter took it away again too soon.
Stiles didn’t answer just tried to get on his feet. He was too confused for
words; he needed a little time to collect himself. He could stand but he
immediately got dizzy and the next thing he knew was Peter’s arms were around
him again, helping him to sit down.
“A simple no would have been just as good.” Peter sighed, as he was kneeling
down, holding Stiles against his chest. He was so warm and the boy felt a rush
of safety as he stroked his back reassuringly. But it all was just a lie. He
was just so tired of it. He was tired of Peter’s pretense and his tricks and
everything that was him and yet his heart was fluttering in his chest like a
small little bird at his touches.
“I’m so tired…” Stiles said in a hoarse voice and attempted to push himself
away from Peter. He needed to be in his right mind for this. “I’m so tired of
you.” he sniffed and forced himself to swallow back a sob.
“What are you saying?” Peter asked in a hushing tone, reaching out to cup
Stiles’ cheek. His touch was so soft and his fingers were trembling, but Stiles
thought he was just imagining it.
“Ever since… the very beginning you were lying to me.” the boy started and
slapped Peter’s hand away weakly. “You said… you wanted peace and you never
said the truth. There will never be peace as long as you’re king.” Stiles said
with tears rolling down his messy cheeks.
“Is this really the time?” Peter asked quietly, but didn’t try to touch Stiles
again.
The boy sniffed, still trying to control himself so he could talk.
“I married you… to bring peace to my country. I did it all for them.” he wept.
“I was ready to do anything; I was ready to hold your hand and to protect you
against everyone.” he continued with trembling lips and hoarse voice. “I swore
loyalty when no one else did. I did it all so I could make my father proud, so
I could bring peace after years of war and you…” he finally looked up at Peter
with eyes full of tears and regret. “You were laughing at me all this time.”
Peter pursed his lips as he was staring back at Stiles and the boy discovered a
hint of fear.
“I wanted to kill you, and then others asked me to kill you, more than once.”
Stiles said hitting the ground with his fist. “But I didn’t because I thought
murder wouldn’t solve anything.” he said then looked at Peter again. “You took
everything from me. You took my kingdom, my title, my whole future!” he rasped.
“You took my trust and you took something else I’ll never be able to get back.”
“You did all these horrible things without a second thought… and I could
still…” Stiles couldn’t control his sobbing anymore. “I’m still…”
If Peter had a heart it would break as he was listening to Stiles. He couldn’t
help thinking that this kidnapping plot was indeed delicately made. It threw
Peter into rush actions, it finally opened Stiles’ eyes and it might shatter
everything they’d built together. For the first time in his life, Peter didn’t
want that. He didn’t want to lose his queen from his life. He slowly reached
out to put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder; he was afraid the boy will push him
away again. But Stiles was too tired to do that anymore. So the king slowly put
his arms around him and pulled him into a gentle hug.
“I love you.” Stiles sobbed into his shoulder and Peter stopped trembling. He
knew that. He knew it from the first moment Stiles was in love with him. But
words were different. Words were absolute and fatal and awful. They left an
impact, just like now. His fingers slid into Stiles’ hair petting it a little
before he spoke.
“Likewise.” he whispered so quietly he wasn’t even sure he really said it. But
apparently that was enough for Stiles to slowly start to calm down in his arms.
He seemed so small and so fragile in that moment, but Peter knew better. He
knew who is more fragile between them and it wasn’t Stiles. The fact that he
could still cry proved that. Stiles still had all these emotions inside his
heart, he could still miss someone, he could still cry for someone and he was
able to love despite that someone was the biggest scum of the kingdom.
Stiles was still whole, despite everything that happened and maybe that’s why
Peter had gotten attracted somewhere along the way. Because he wasn’t whole,
not since the fire. He wasn’t able to love or feel much besides anger anymore
and yet, being with Stiles he felt the ghosts of these feelings. He felt
concern, most of all and the world seemed just a little brighter whenever
Stiles was in the room. Touching him wasn’t making Peter sick to the stomach
and he constantly wanted his scent on him. Peter knew this was the most he will
be able to do for Stiles and he also knew that the boy one day will leave him
because of this.
Love wasn’t eternal.
After Stiles got a little better, Peter helped him up on his horse and sat
behind him. It was calming to feel the boy so near, because he had the scent of
mud and other wolves and Peter wanted to make sure Stiles smells of him again
soon. They were riding back on the old road Peter had followed, without meeting
anyone along the way. The morning caught up with them on the way, showing how
beautiful the autumn sunrise is in the Hale Kingdom.
“We have a lot to talk about.” Stiles whispered as he leaned back to steal a
little of Peter’s warmth. The man put an arm around his middle to keep him
closer to his body.
“You and your talks.” the king sighed, pressing his nose behind Stiles’ ear.
“The dagger…” the queen started, but Peter shook his head.
“I know.” he said. He didn’t want to talk about that god forsaken dagger of all
things. The queen sighed a little, but didn’t press the matter more.
“And you knew… about the gods.” Stiles started and Peter closed his eyes for a
moment. Now he would rather talk about the dagger.
“I didn’t know it from the start, of course.” he spoke. “I just wanted to reach
the king and end his life for what he did with my family. And then one of the
priests of the new religion told me if I keep this up the new gods won’t be
merciful. I learned how our kind was sentenced to a certain doom and I became
even angrier. No god would tell me what to do.” he growled, squeezing the
reins, but just for a second. He collected himself soon enough.
“Now… I like to think of myself as the last battle the kingdom has to fight.”
Peter smirked. “I knew you will be a strong opponent, everyone was saying how
the Stilinski Prince will bring us to the new era. They had faith in you.”
“That’s why you married me?” the queen asked quietly with a shivering breath.
“I could become king and destroy the last ray of hope, Stiles, it was the best
plan I could come up with.” Peter answered. “But I didn’t plan it to end up
like this.”
“Me neither.” Stiles swallowed, wiping his face again.
“But I won’t back out.” the king said. “I’ll stay king as long as I can.”
“It won’t be much longer.” Stiles whispered, and turned his head to look at
Peter’s face. “You came for me, you’re not in the fortress anymore… If they
want to do something, they will now.”
“I can take them on.” Peter said lightly.
“They won’t stop until you’re dead.” Stiles insisted and the king smiled.
“Tell me something I don’t know, my queen.” he cocked his head to the side,
looking at the boy. Stiles wasn’t smiling, just eyed him a bit tired and almost
sad. But it wasn’t pity. Even Stiles knew better than to pity Peter. The king
just softened his smirk and leaned closer to steal a kiss from his wife. Stiles
met him halfway and they shared a small, affectionate kiss.
 
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     Bit of a filler chapter...? It was part of the previous chapter, but
     I divided them into two for reasons.
     Warning for knotting...?
     Betaed by Evy!
 
As Peter lead him inside the inn, Stiles wondered if he wasn’t still dreaming.
He wasn’t feeling too well, despite drinking most of their water. He was cold
and he was confused, but the presence of Peter was so calming and warm that it
made him feel like being in a dream. They shared kisses and Peter handled him
like he was the most fragile china in the kingdom and Stiles tried not to melt
every time, but he did.
The inn smelled of cheap beer and a kind of smoke that wasn’t familiar to
Stiles. The people sitting at the tables, nursing their drinks and soups, were
listening to a bard sitting by the fireplace. He was singing about how the
ancient gods decided to create autumn. It was a short and pretty tale and
Stiles had only read it in a children’s book before. It was so strange to
listen to it in a song. It wasn’t a royal song, or something they would play to
the king or the princes, thus the queen could never hear it in person. He
looked around, seeing how grown men and women were listening to a silly little
tale about the first tree that went to sleep and the young gods turning her
leaves red and yellow for fun.
Stiles listened to the rest of the tale as Peter asked for a room and some
food. It was beautiful. The bard wasn’t playing on a harp but a lute and yet
his music was light and had a kind of bittersweet melody to it that only the
fall could give to a person.
“Eat up, then let’s go and rest.” Stiles heard Peter’s voice suddenly and he
already led him to a nearby table, placing a bowl of soup in front of him. It
wasn’t anything like the food Stiles was eating before, but in that moment it
was heavenly. Though no matter how hungry and weak he felt, his curiosity was
more nagging. He couldn’t help looking up at the bard, or at the people around
them. His people. The people of the country. They weren’t even aware that their
king and queen were sitting by their tables. And it was good like that, Stiles
didn’t feel too royal right now anyway.
“If I wouldn’t be a… what I am now,” the queen started, absently. “I’d be a
bard.” he decided and heard Peter snort as he gulped some of his soup down.
“Really now?” he asked, turning his head toward Stiles. “A bard?”
“And I’d be good at it!” the boy almost pouted. “Reading the old tales,
searching for new ones… I could do that. I’d like to do that.”
“Playing the lute.” Peter commented, still too amused for Stiles’ taste.
“Well… I guess I could use a little practice in that.” The queen shrugged with
a half smile. Somehow their banter was making his chest warm and everything a
little bit better. Even if nothing was better. Stiles took a breath and looked
at Peter again, parting his lips to say something.
“No.” Peter said, leaning back in his chair.
“I didn’t even say anything.” Stiles frowned.
“I still know what you are going to ask.” the man shrugged, looking around.
“And no, Stiles, I have no dreams of becoming someone else. I never wanted to
be someone else.”
“But… so that means you don’t have dreams?”
“No dreams like that.” Peter closed the conversation. “Eat your soup, Stiles.
You still need a lot of rest before we go on.”
The queen sighed and let it go. Then demanded a hot bath before he hit the bed,
causing another frustrated conversation. But to their luck the inn offered hot
baths and Peter was carrying enough money so they could both wash the dirt of
the road off. Stiles didn’t feel that cold and dirty anymore after it and he
happily walked back to their room, warning Peter to not stay behind too long
either.
The moment Stiles was back in their room and laid his head down on their bed,
he fell asleep. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but when he woke up
it was deep into the night. The moon was still up, casting a blue glow over the
simple room. Stiles reached out with his hand to search for Peter, but he
wasn’t on the bed. The boy groaned a bit scared and opened his eyes to look
around the room for him. Peter was standing by the window, looking pensive. His
gaze was directed outside and still not on the sky, but below them to the
street. Stiles always warned him to look up at the sky at night, but apparently
he still had to warn him a lot more.
The queen blinked a few times to get the sleepiness out of his eyes and
collected the covers around him to get out of bed. He didn’t want to put his
dirty clothes back on after cleaning, so he went to sleep naked. He walked up
to Peter to see what he was looking at, but there was no one on the streets.
“How are you feeling?” Peter asked, raising his gaze at Stiles. The boy
shrugged.
“Better, I guess.” he said, eying the other. “Is there something wrong?” he
asked, seeing Peter’s almost disgusted expression.
“You still reek of them.” the king said and stepped closer, pressing his nose
against Stiles’ neck.
“But I washed…” Stiles frowned and shivered at the sudden touch.
“That doesn’t matter.” Peter said and slid his arms around the boy and Stiles
felt a sudden rush of warmth. “I’ll claim you back.” Peter murmured into his
neck before kissing it and Stiles jumped. Without thinking, he let go of his
covers and pulled Peter closer to him, tilting his head to finally kiss him.
Kissing Peter felt nothing like when they kissed before. This time it was
something deeper, something more passionate and Stiles wasn’t afraid anymore.
He reached out to slide his fingers into Peter’s hair, massaging his scalp as
he was sucking on his tongue. He wanted to have more of Peter’s taste and his
touch and everything of his. Stiles wanted him to claim him back. Before he
knew it, his back hit the wall and Peter’s hand stroked his sides, slowly
sneaking up to his chest to pinch one of his nipples. Stiles gasped out and
arched his back at the sensation.
“You can feel it too…” Peter whispered with eyes half closed as he was looking
down at the boy. Stiles had no idea what he was talking about, but he knew he
was indeed feeling something.  Something deep and arousing, what made his body
sensitive and filled his mind with raw need. Instead of asking what Peter
meant, he leaned in to continue their kissing. Words weren’t something he would
tolerate right now.
The covers fell by their feet and Stiles winced as his naked back hit the cold
stonewalls. But then Peter scooped him up from the ground, and pressed their
hips together. Stiles cursed as he quickly put his arms around Peter’s
shoulders and his legs around his hips. It was the first time he was getting
hard this fast and he wondered if this is what Peter was talking about. He
whispered Peter’s name which turned into a moan when the man reached between
them and squeezed his hard erection. Stiles moaned loudly from need and tried
to move his hips to make Peter go on and he didn’t have to be disappointed.
Peter pressed him roughly against the wall, working on his hardness so eagerly
and firmly that Stiles thought he will lose his mind. He was clinging to Peter,
fisting his hand in his tunic and couldn’t exactly manage to say anything other
than the man’s name by that point. It was fast and raw and still not enough and
he let out a sob when he was coming. It wasn’t as satisfying as he expected.
Peter worked him through it, kissing him just as hungry as Stiles felt.
Stiles was glad that Peter was still holding him, because his legs trembled so
much from need he wasn’t sure he could walk.
“Why are you still wearing clothes?!” He practically whined, yanking on Peter’s
shirt. The man licked his lips and turned them around to cross the distance to
the bed. He practically threw Stiles down on the bed and pulled off his shirt.
But Peter’s skin had no time to cool in the chilly autumn night, because
Stiles’ hands were already on his chest and his lips explored his collarbone.
“Stiles…” Peter let out a shaky breath and covered the boy’s nape with one
hand. His fingers were trembling and he was warmer than usual. Stiles knew
something was up and it had something to do with this desire. He wanted to ask,
but then Peter started to untie his trousers and Stiles felt the need to help
him out of them.
“Big…” he commented when he looked at Peter without his clothes.
“Such a compliment.” Peter smirked and leaned down, cupping the boy’s cheeks to
pull him into a kiss. Stiles was kissing back but then pulled the man down on
the bed and rolled them over. Now that Peter was letting him touch him, he
wanted to have a feast. He laid open mouthed kisses on his neck and made his
way down his chest. Peter’s skin was delicious and sweet and Stiles let out a
shaky groan when he felt his need again. He straddled the man’s thigh so he
could arch against his hips, feeling himself getting hard again. He heard Peter
moan his name and it was the most delicious sound he had ever heard.
Without really thinking about what he was doing, Stiles dropped his hand down
and grabbed onto Peter’s erection, making the man jump. Apparently, he’d gotten
breathless from that one touch and Stiles smirked into his skin. He felt really
naughty tonight and Peter wasn’t stopping him, so he gave a few experimental
strokes. The king’s reaction was priceless as he was practically squirming
under his touch.
“Oh god…” Stiles whimpered and kissed a trail down toward Peter’s sweet spot
until he reached it. His mouth watered at the sight and Stiles almost felt
embarrassed for being this turned on by the fact that he can lick it. He didn’t
hesitate either, he opened his mouth and gave it a hard, long lick. Then he
slipped it past his lips to suck on the tip.
Peter cursed and grabbed his hair and it hurt, but Stiles didn’t want to stop.
Judging by the king’s ragged breathing he wasn’t about to stop him either. The
boy took him as deep as he could, sucking and lapping at him and even enjoying
his taste. He was bobbing his head a little, then popped Peter out of his mouth
with an obscene, wet noise. When Stiles emerged, Peter pulled his head back to
him for a deep kiss, as if wanting to taste himself on the boy’s tongue and
help to make those lips more swollen.
“What’s happening?” Stiles could finally ask as he was arching against Peter
again, not really knowing what he was doing.
“My heat.” Peter answered and rolled them over, brushing their cocks together.
He was sweating and a new kind of blush adored his cheeks. Stiles felt
speechless as he was watching the king, because he was looking almost
vulnerable.
“Your heat..? What does it mean? I mean… besides that I really, really want to
shag you.” Stiles whimpered, rocking his hips up into the man’s.
“It basically means that yes.” Peter nodded, leaning his forehead against the
boy’s collarbone. “It means I’m ready for a mate.”
“A mate?” Stiles asked, placing his hands on Peter’s head. Then the man moved a
bit away to look into his face. His eyes were red, but his expression was the
most open Stiles had ever seen him with.
“Do you want to belong to me?” he asked out of breath. “Stiles, do you want to
belong to me?” he repeated, leaning closer so their noses were almost touching.
The queen shivered, because he could feel this was a serious question.
“Don’t I already?” he whispered and Peter answered him with a kiss, before
pulling away. He reached to his dropped clothes for the small sack he had tied
on his belt and searched around in it for a small jar.
“Ah…” Stiles blinked at it and watched as Peter opened it. “Where did you get
that?” he asked frowning.
“It’s not just food and drink you can purchase from an innkeeper.” Peter said
with a cocky smirk as he warmed up the lube between his fingers.
“You knew this will happen?!” Stiles gasped, pushing himself up on his elbows.
Peter crawled over him again and nudged apart his legs, kneeling between them.
“I knew this from the moment I got back from the battle. I wanted to make you
my mate from then on.” he said and teased Stiles’ entrance with one slick
finger. “But I hesitated. Now I won’t.” he whispered and pushed in a shaking
finger.
Stiles let out a sigh and tried to relax. Peter was bigger than before and he
didn’t want to get hurt, not tonight. He tilted his head to look at the king
again, just in time to see him lean down and place a kiss in the middle of his
chest. It was such a gentle kiss, Stiles couldn’t help his shiver. But then
Peter smirked into his skin and moved his mouth over his nipple and Stiles
shivered from something entirely else. His breath got caught in his throat
under his husband’s treatment and he barely noticed the second finger. Peter
was so good with his tongue and his lips and Stiles wished he would kiss him
more on other places.
Peter stretched him while his tongue was greeting all the moles on Stiles’
chest and abdomen. Then he moved and met him with a kiss. Stiles felt his lips
get swollen from the amount of kisses they exchanged, but he didn’t mind. Peter
kissed him long and exhausting and Stiles loved every second of it, his body
was screaming for more, but apparently the man was taking his time. Until he
added a third finger.
Stiles winced and gasped from pain.
“Relax.” Peter whispered to his lips, working him still, getting him nice and
stretched. “Relax.” he repeated and nuzzled his wife’s cheek, his free hand was
kneading on one of his thighs.
“Alright.” Stiles breathed, holding onto Peter’s shoulders and tried to relax.
He tried to concentrate on Peter’s scent and his warmth; on how his kisses
tasted, how he felt under his fingers, how he sometimes let out those small
noises of pleasure.
“Stiles.” Peter called him in a warm voice and the boy felt the butterflies in
his stomach. He licked his lips and opened his eyes, not really realizing he
had closed them. The king looked at him with half lidded eyes, and he was
ready. Stiles swallowed and he wondered if he was ready, but he still nodded.
Peter kissed him once again before he retrieved his fingers and positioned
himself between his legs, stroking at his thighs in anticipation. His fingers
shivered from time to time, probably because of need. Stiles sighed softly and
attempted to spread his legs more for him.
And Peter waited. Stiles groaned, arching his back, and his breath hitched when
the king teased his entrance with the head of his cock. He wanted to tell Peter
to stop teasing, but instead just another groan left his throat. Thankfully, he
didn’t have to wait too long, because Peter pressed and he was inside with one
smooth thrust.
Grabbing on the sheets, all of the air escaped from Stiles’ lungs. He was
relaxed, but not enough. He threw his head back, baring his teeth at the
invasion, but he didn’t ask Peter to stop. He was big; bigger than before.
Stiles gasped, and tried to catch his breath when he felt Peter’s balls at his
rim. He was trembling from pain and pleasure, because the man was brushing over
that sweet-sweet spot too and Stiles’ body and mind was trying to adjust.
“Oh god… oh god…” the queen moaned, throwing his head to the side when Peter
ever so slowly pulled back.
“Don’t call the gods.” Peter hissed, sounding just as in pain as Stiles felt.
The boy tilted his head, looking at him in a daze then held out his arms for
him.
“Peter…” he breathed, and his husband responded by leaning down, penetrating
him in yet another way. Stiles opened his mouth to welcome Peter’s tongue and
he arched up to feel more of his skin with all his body. As if he wanted to
feel more of him, and he did want to feel more of him. Peter’s hand was
sneaking up on his body, stroking his thigh and warming up his sides.
Peter’s movements were still tainted with that deep, roaring power he carried
in himself, but Stiles didn’t feel threatened by it. He almost felt safe, even
when Peter rolled his hips and thrust into him deeper than before. He was slow
and it killed them both. Stiles squirmed under the treatment, throwing his head
back once again to try and keep his sanity and a hand sneaked up on his throat.
Peter’s skin was hot and still as soft as he remembered and the strength inside
his muscles hinted how he could crush the boy’s neck with just his fingers.
Stiles had no idea why, but it made him shiver all over and he threw his legs
more around the man’s hips. He was getting aroused again and he wondered if
humans can go into heat too near werewolves. But it was alright as long as he
could keep up with Peter.
A finger teased his lips and Stiles opened his mouth to lick at it. He heard
Peter’s breath hitch, so he lapped at the finger a bit more before inviting it
inside his mouth. But he couldn’t suck on it as much as he wanted, because
Peter was getting impatient. He leaned back, and put his hands under Stiles’
knees, holding them spread as he picked up his pace, pounding inside the boy.
Stiles’ toes curled at the sensation, because every thrust of the man sent pain
and pleasure through his body, right into his cock and he’d gotten rock hard
again. He bit his lips and looked up at Peter thrusting into him; sweat adorned
his forehead and chest and he was just as flushed as Stiles, complimenting the
small freckles all over his skin. His eyes were so blue and so sparkling as he
was watching him and Stiles almost lost himself when Peter licked his own lips.
“Touch yourself.” the king said and his voice had more volume than Stiles
remembered. As if he was half growling and it made the boy shiver again.
“You like that?” he asked with a breathless smirk and slid his hand down his
own chest and stomach until he reached his hardness. Peter’s only answer was a
pleased smirk and for a moment he lost his rhythm as Stiles finally took
himself in his hand. Oh yes, he really liked that. Peter’s eyes flashed red and
Stiles moaned. He was close and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to come yet.
“Go on, do it. Come.” Peter breathed, tightening his grip on Stiles’ legs and
his movements became rougher as he was watching the boy please himself. At the
king’s orders Stiles reached down with his other hand too to squeeze his own
balls as he was working on his hardness too eagerly. He felt like if he won’t
come soon he will go crazy. Peter’s wild pounding and his own hands rushed him
into a release that felt only a bit more satisfying than his first one.
“Peter- Peter..!” Stiles whimpered, as if trying to say something more, but his
release took his breath away; his whole body tensed and a dry sob left his
throat as he was coming hard all over himself. At the same time he felt Peter
double over, slipping his palms over his thighs and grabbing onto his hips with
trembling hands. The man was just as out of breath as Stiles, and he growled
deep in his chest as he came inside the boy with wild, jerky movements. Stiles
tilted his head and tried to lean up to kiss him all exhausted, but as he did
that he felt Peter’s hardness still inside him.
All Stiles wanted to do is collapse and sleep until eternity, possibly tucked
under Peter’s arm, but the low growl coming from the man signed it won’t happen
soon. Peter leaned down and licked some of his come from his stomach, making
Stiles moan from how his skin was too sensitive.
“You’re not… you’re not done.” Stiles commented breathless as he reached for
Peter again. The man lifted his head, and looked at Stiles with eyes flaring
red and licking some of his cum from the corner of his mouth.
“No.” he rumbled in a deep voice and leaned over to kiss Stiles. The boy gave a
breathless sound as he tasted himself on Peter’s tongue and his body twitched.
Then Peter nuzzled his cheek, and raised his head to kiss his forehead. He kept
his lips there, caressing the boy’s sweaty skin a little. Stiles took the
chance to put his arms around his torso and pull him into a hug for a few
seconds.
Stiles was almost ready to really fall asleep, but Peter pulled away and
slipped out of him. The sudden cold on the boy’s skin made him hiss. He wanted
to demand that Peter would drag his sorry ass back to his personal space or
else… But the man only pulled away to turn him on his stomach.
“No, no I want to see you…” Stiles almost whined, and attempted to roll back,
but Peter kept him like that, by covering his back and pressing his hardness
against his ass.
“This will be more comfortable.” he said, still on his growling voice as he
nuzzled behind Stiles’ ear. “Oh god, Stiles you already smell so good…” Peter
breathed and the boy felt his hardness twitch as he said that. Peter dropped
his head to kiss and lick at Stiles’ nape and shoulders and he gently scraped
over his skin with his teeth too.
The boy fisted a hand in the pillow, closing his eyes. Then Peter slipped his
hand between his cheeks and buried two fingers inside him and Stiles knew why.
He wanted to feel him stretched and already filled with his cum, apparently
Peter liked that. Peter fucked him with his fingers a little, before he brought
his hard flesh into play again. Stiles pulled up one of his knees to give him
space, but still grunted at the invasion of Peter. It was like he was getting
bigger the more they were doing this.
“Good…” Peter whispered against his temple, and Stiles had a feeling it was
mostly to himself. He was in a daze, so only listening to Peter’s voices and
sounds was a great pleasure. A smile crept on his face even when the man was
seeking out his hand and squeezed it. Peter’s other hand was on his waist,
holding him so tightly that Stiles was sure it will bruise.
“Wh…” Stiles frowned then, squirming a little when Peter started to thrust into
him again. “Peter…” he tried again, but only got a growl. “Peter, you’re- are
you getting bigger? Even more bigger?” he asked, trying to look over his
shoulder.
“Yes.” The man answered out of breath, also seemingly in pain. Stiles wanted to
ask more, but the sudden stretching knocked out all his air. Only a pained
groan could break free from his dry throat. “It’s alright, Stiles, you can do
this.”
“No, no I can’t, take it out…!” the boy struggled, but it just made it worse
for both of them. Peter slid his arm around his stomach and pulled him tight to
himself to stop him.
“I can’t!” he hissed just as pained. “Stiles…” he started then, licking his
lips. “You can do this, you’re incredible…”
“Oh, you and your sweet words!” Stiles sobbed, squeezing Peter’s fingers so
tight his knuckles went white. He didn’t want to cry, but his eyes were still
full of tears from the pain.
“Tell me when you’re ready.” Peter spoke in a ragged voice as he showered
Stiles’ shoulders and neck with open mouthed kisses. He almost acted like as if
he tasted him before wanting to take a bite and a rush of fear ran through
Stiles. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Peter said and Stiles wondered if
‘hurting’ meant the same thing for both of them. Instead he just swallowed and
nodded.
“Alright.” He nodded and leaned his forehead down the bed. “G-go on.” He
stuttered, biting his lip and the moment the words left his mouth Peter thrust
deep inside him making him cry out again. One of his hands was holding Peter’s
fingers, while the other was fisted in the pillow. Stiles really thought he
will die then and there on Peter’s cock.
The shivers of Peter’s hands and the jolts of his body showed he was just as in
pain adjusting as Stiles. His breath was ragged and uneven and the small groans
were making Stiles go crazy. But thankfully, by some miracle, he could adjust,
pain was still lingering around, but Stiles felt a jolt of pleasure every time
Peter moved. How was that possible?
Peter’s teeth grazed over his shoulder again and Stiles stiffened.
“It won’t turn you.” Peter said. “If I’m not turned.” he added thrusting deeper
than before. “Let me bite you…” he asked as he pulled out as much as he could,
and thrust back in with a hint of impatience. Stiles was way over the point of
speaking at that point so he just nodded, not really sure what he agreed to.
All he knew was that he didn’t want to be a werewolf. Not yet. Not like this.
Not now. Peter latched onto his shoulder then, sucking at the place where his
shoulder met his neck and it was heavenly and Stiles arched his back, throwing
his head back to feel him.
Peter let go of his hand, but Stiles didn’t feel like he was leaving him; the
man was already inside him, all over him and with him. Peter grabbed on his
hips against and pulled him up on his knees, even if Stiles didn’t feel any
strength in them, but the man could hold them both up. The new angle forced a
deep moan from Stiles’ chest as he felt Peter’s cock press against his sweet
spot so much it almost hurt. He cursed out loud, grabbing on the headrest of
the bed with both hands. He wanted to reach down and stroke himself, but the
way Peter was rutting into him made it impossible.
“I’m going to come… I’m going to come…” Stiles breathed almost in panic and he
felt Peter make his thrusts deeper. “I’m going to come…” the boy sobbed and he
heard the man say something, but the moment his white pleasure hit him he went
blind and deaf. He came without even touching his hardness and it was one of
the most sensational experiences. He kept trying to thrust into something as he
came again, cursing Peter and everything about this mating thing. Peter just
laughed behind him, but didn’t slow down. He was riding toward his own, final
release, Stiles realized as he was trying to keep himself up with the last bit
of his strength.
“Oh, you’re good, you’re really good…” he heard Peter’s hoarse voice as he
leaned all over his back again, pressing his nose against his neck. “Stiles,
you’re… good, really… incredible…” he rambled sweet words and his queen’s name
into flushed skin as his movements became ragged and erratic. His grip was
bruising on Stiles’ hips and he finally opened his mouth to run his teeth over
the boy’s skin again. Then slowly he sank his human teeth into the shoulder of
the boy as his hips were pounding into him. Peter was coming hard and long and
Stiles was sure he blacked out for a few seconds, because when he came to his
senses, his head was back on the pillow. He was still connected with Peter as
the man pushed them down, lying on Stiles a little, pressing his chest against
his back and nuzzling into his hair. Stiles couldn’t hear what he said, but his
voice was back to normal and his movements were sluggish and almost weak.
When Peter moved a little off him, but didn’t slip out, Stiles groaned and
turned his head at the man laying next to him and still half on a top of him.
Though he didn’t feel the strength to open his eyes.
“Peter…” he started a bit tired.
“About half an hour.” The man answered, not opening his eyes, sounding just as
exhausted.
“What…?” Stiles frowned.
“My… knot will go back in size in half an hour. Until then we’re connected, my
queen.” Peter spoke into the sheets but his arm went out to stroke Stiles’ back
reassuringly.
“Brilliant.” The boy sighed and finally opened his eyes too to look at Peter’s
sleeping features. It just occurred to him that this was the most time they
were spending together, and maybe the first time Peter held him this long after
their intercourse. It maybe made every ache and pain better. “With this you
belong to me too?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask, and Peter finally opened his
eyes, capturing him with his blue gaze.
“Yes.” he said quietly, almost as if being afraid. Stiles just sighed and
reached out to caress the man’s sweaty and flushed cheek with the back of his
knuckles. So they became one, he wondered fondly and leaned over to brush his
lips against Peter’s.
 
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Notes
     Sad week this is, huh. Accompanied by a kinda sad chapter too.
     Betaed by Evy~
“To the gods, this is like losing my virginity all over again.” Stiles muttered
into the pillow when he woke up. His entire body was sore and he felt bruises
all over his hips; the bite on his shoulder stung, also he felt a slight burn
at other places. He might have been finally one with Peter, but he still felt
like he was waking up in Hell.
Last night, after Peter slipped out of him, he didn’t leave him but retrieved
the covers and pulled Stiles close to his body. The autumn night was cold, but
pressed against Peter Stiles didn’t have to feel any of that and it was good.
“Stop the thing where you make sounds with your mouth.” Peter grumbled from
beside him, still having a loose arm over his middle. Stiles just sleepily
rolled his eyes and looked over at the window to try and see how long they had
been sleeping. Apparently, they managed to sleep through the whole night,
because the sun was just coming up. No wonder he felt sore. He also realized
that he was missing for three days now. With a groan, Stiles turned on his
stomach and moved closer to Peter.
“We should go.” the boy whispered, nuzzling at him.
“No.” Peter answered, not even moving.
“The people must be worried.” Stiles tried, but he figured Peter doesn’t really
care about it. “Are you sure it’s safe to leave Derek and everyone alone for
this long?”
“I’m not afraid of them, no matter what they are planning.” the man sighed and
slowly reached to rub the drowsiness out of his eyes, realizing he can’t go
back to sleep at this rate.
“They know you got bitten on the battlefield, the rumors are all over.” Stiles
tried and Peter rolled his eyes.
“There was a rumor where they said I have three heads and I spit acid from my
mouth.” he snorted. “I’m the king, no one can go against me.”
“Only everyone.” Stiles sighed, frowning. “If they go against you together…” he
started, but stopped at Peter’s glare.
“I could overthrow this whole kingdom, Stiles. I’m strong.” the man said as if
that explained everything. “The real question is what will you do?”
“What will I do?” Stiles frowned.
“You told me you will stand next to me.” Peter spoke and his blue eyes pinned
Stiles. “You swore loyalty before and you were ready to follow me wherever I
go.” Stiles’ breath hitched when he realized why Peter was speaking in the past
tense. He wanted to ask Stiles again, now that he knew everything. The queen
finally knew what Peter wanted; what his final goal was and the man asked if he
would still stand by him. If he will stay with him until the kingdom was burned
up by the new gods.
“How dare you ask me this…?” Stiles whispered and slowly sat up, ignoring how
his body complained about it. “How dare you ask me this now!? After
everything?!” he swallowed and his hand went to the bite on his shoulder. His
trembling fingers weakly brushed over the abused skin as his mind was rushing.
If he supports Peter he will certainly assist in the fall of a whole kingdom.
The new gods will burn everything up. They might be happy together for a while,
but no one else will be. And there is the other option, where Stiles picks to
stop standing next to Peter. He realized he can’t exactly go against him
anymore, but that doesn’t mean he should continue to support him. Again, Stiles
caught himself wishing he wouldn’t be queen so he didn’t have to make this
choice.
“Why won’t you step down? Why won’t you stop this?” he asked, burying his face
into one of his palms already knowing it’s useless to ask Peter that question.
“I was fighting all these years and I’m not going to withdraw. Not even for
you.” Peter added and Stiles knew in that moment that he too found his answer.
It was actually clear to him from the beginning, it was what he was fighting
for; it was the reason he married Peter in the first place; the reason that
made them this close actually.
“I want a strong empire, Peter. One that is not punished by the gods.” He said
quietly, eying the end of their bed. “I can’t let you do this.” He added with a
tight throat and he felt Peter’s hand sliding around his chest and pulling him
back down on the bed.
“I know.” the man said, pulling Stiles close.
“Then why did you make me say it?” the boy asked, snuggling close to steal some
of Peter’s warmth.
“So that you know too.” The king said quietly and Stiles finally realized why
he wasn’t in a hurry. Until they were on the road, they didn’t have to think
about sides, and the kingdom, on the road they were just two travelers. And not
a beast of the old and not the king of the new.
--
They spent half a day in that inn, resting and eating, even if Stiles really
wanted to get on the road. He advised Peter to go back to the old capital,
because he really wanted to see his father. Also, Peter officially was heading
there too.
As they were getting ready to leave their room, Stiles still felt an aching
pain shoot up his spine every time he moved and he wondered how the hell he’ll
sit on a horse like this. But they couldn’t take more time to themselves, they
were the king and queen after all.
“Would you stop with the groans, it’s turning me on.” Peter commented as he
tied his belt with his sword around his waist.
“Well at least someone’s having something good out of it.” Stiles grumbled,
tying his trousers. He bit in his lips to not grunt again but as he took a step
he couldn’t stop. Peter was in front of him the next moment and Stiles’ heart
skipped a beat. “No, no wait, we don’t have time and I’m still hurting..!” he
stuttered, suddenly blushing.
“I know, don’t worry.” the man smirked at him, too amused for Stiles’ taste and
still slipped his hands in the boy’s trousers.
“Peter, I said no!” Stiles gasped when he felt his husband grope his backside.
He tried to push against his chest, but then he felt something. The pain he
felt before was getting less and less striking. “What are you doing?” Stiles
asked frowning.
“I’m taking your pain away.” the king answered lightly, with a shrug.
“You can do this and you’re just using it now?! For this?!” Stiles hissed and
punched his husband’s shoulder in slight embarrassment.
“I really prefer to hurt people, Stiles, you should already know.” Peter
chuckled and squeezed the boy’s buttocks before pulling his hand away. “At
least you’ll stop with the noises for now.” he remarked.
In no time the king and queen were on the road again, riding toward the old
capital. Stiles realized it will be the first time in a year when he can
finally see his father again. Scott will be there too, and his Lady Allison and
maybe Her Grace Lydia. He hadn’t seen them in a long time.
Their journey was two more days and they didn’t really stop, only for small
breaks. Stiles never saw the night sky so bright and full of stars than the
nights they were traveling. He kept pointing out constellations and his
favorite stars and he was damn proud when Peter actually remembered a few stars
too.
After a long journey, they finally spotted the walls of the old capital and
Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. He felt like it was ages since he had looked upon
them, yet it was only just a few months. He tightened his grip on the saddle,
taking a deep breath. Suddenly, he’d gotten nervous. He will see everyone
again, but he didn’t feel like the boy who left this castle. He wasn’t a
prince, but a queen now and he was in love with a doomed creature. Peter must
have felt his nervousness too, because his lips placed a light kiss at the back
of his neck as he guided their horse to the gates.
“Tell the old king the King and Queen have arrived.” Peter ordered the guards
and they already ran to bring the news to the castle. “The first time they were
expecting me here. I want them to expect me now too.” Peter muttered as they
slowly trotted on the stone road that was leading up to the castle. The walls
were brown and yellowish and the whole town felt friendlier than Beacon
Fortress. The smell of roasted meat was in the air and Stiles couldn’t help
feeling homesick even if he was already back home. He just realized how much he
missed this place and the people here, and that they were the reason he will
have to push Peter away.
The way up to the castle was shorter than Stiles wanted it to be. He wanted to
go home, back to his father, but not like this. Peter grabbed on the reins a
bit tighter as they entered the castle grounds and arrived in the yard. The boy
wanted to ask what was wrong, but as he moved his head he spotted archers in
the windows and on the top of the walls all of them targeting them. A rush of
fear cut into Stiles as he was eying all these archers just waiting for an
order to let go of their arrows.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he heard Peter’s voice and it almost sounded as
if he was expecting this kind of welcome. Stiles licked his lips and raised his
gaze to their welcoming committee: the guards of the castle with Scott at the
front with his sword in his hand. But the one who spoke next wasn’t Scott, it
was Derek. Stiles frowned, wondering when he’d gotten here. But the old capital
was only a two days ride from the fortress, Derek could have been here for a
while.
“We have proof you’re no longer fit to be on the throne.” Derek said,
tightening his grip on his own sword and Stiles swallowed. He wondered which of
the thousand reasons they’ll bring up in such a manner. He felt Peter move
behind him and slowly got off his horse then reached out for him to help him
off too. But as the queen’s feet hit the ground the king grabbed his throat and
drew a sword. Everyone tensed and Stiles could almost hear the arrows flying at
them.
“Let the Queen go.” Derek hissed as Scott hurried to stand next to him, ready
to do anything to save Stiles from the middle of this confrontation.
“First I want to hear what kind of madness is everyone getting at and how dare
you treat me in such ways.” Peter hissed, moving his sword closer to Stiles’
middle and the boy whimpered. This really isn’t how he imagined his death at
all and yet he knew Peter wouldn’t hurt him. Well, he would actually hurt him,
but not kill him. Not anymore.
Derek sighed and his brows furrowed more. He was clearly thinking about how he
should proceed into this situation.
“You’re no longer human.” Scott started then. “You’ve got bitten in your last
battle by a werewolf. Your men have seen it.”
“My men?” Peter chuckled and a young soldier stepped forward. His face was of a
boy’s, but his eyes were more of a warrior’s. He walked next to Scott, brushing
his light brown, curly locks from his face to look at Peter. “Isaac.” the king
smiled in a too sweet manner at him. In a second two more soldiers joined
Isaac; a girl with long, golden strands of hair and another boy with dark skin
of the southern people.
“We’ve seen you get bitten.” Isaac started, his voice dripping from something
thick and dark. Probably revenge and anger.
“Who—“ Stiles started, but Peter covered his mouth with his hand to shut him
up.
“There is no proof it was a bite that would turn me.” Peter started, carrying
his gaze over the soldiers.
“Go through the werewolf trial and prove us wrong then.” Derek said.
“How dare you.” Peter hissed and Stiles hoped he was the only one hearing the
hint of a growl.
“If you refuse we have the right to assume you’re indeed a beast of the old
gods and straight out execute you for your sins.” Derek continued and it made
Peter laugh.
“What would exactly be my sin?” he asked almost ironically.
“You didn’t report that you’ve been turned; you attempted to stay king and
bring destruction to this kingdom. Your sin is high treason.” Derek continued.
“If the new king refuses to serve the best of its people then all his rights
would ascend back to the old king.” he added, his gaze flickering to Stiles for
a second.
Peter took a deep breath and looked around them. At the archers, at one of the
members of his family and probably his leftover pack. They all turned against
him, he was alone. He was cornered and they will push him off the throne. He
expected it to happen at some point, but not this quick.
“I have nothing to hide.” he started. “I’ll go through your werewolf trial.” he
said with a kind of confidence that surprised Stiles too. Maybe Peter will be
able go through the trial? He had no idea how he felt about that, he was
already too confused.
But before he could think more about it, Peter lowered his sword and let him
go. Stiles stumbled a little and turned back to the king for a second. He
wanted to say something, probably say goodbye or thank him or something, but
for the first time, he couldn’t manage to speak. Peter’s lips pulled into a
small smirk and he reached for his queen’s hand. The kiss on Stiles’ fingers
was gentle and warm and his heart broke when he had to pull away. He turned and
didn’t look back, he didn’t want to see how these people who were afraid of
Peter are out to drag him down, probably throw him into a dungeon and humiliate
him.
It was Scott who was hurrying next to Stiles and the queen realized he had no
idea where he was going. He was just rushing away from the scene, walking the
castle’s corridors.
“Scott…” he started and came to a halt, looking at his friend. His chest ached
from various things and one of them made him reach out for his friend and hug
him.
“It’s good to have you back alive.” Scott said, hugging back, and his voice
sounded just as cracked as Stiles’ heart felt. “I was afraid that-“
“Stop that.” Stiles sniffed, rubbing his eyes. “I thought the same and I-
really don’t want to be reminded. Now I just want those traitors to be caught.”
he added.
“They were caught.” Scott said, frowning a little. “They confessed too.”
“What?!” Stiles frowned, blinking at his friend. “Deucalion? The man with…
blindfold and all?”
“Yes, and his… group.” the guard nodded. “They were used by Peter.” He said
then a bit hesitant, eying Stiles as if trying to see his reaction in every
detail.
“Wait, what?!” the queen gasped again, thinking he had heard it wrong. “Peter?
What in the name of the gods do you mean!?” The way Deucalion was talking about
Peter Stiles doubted they could ever look at each other without snarling, let
alone sit down and plan a whole kidnapping together.
“They said… Peter asked them to take you.”
“Then why would he bring me back!?” Stiles almost clawed at his face how stupid
this was, but Scott’s answer made him freeze.
“Because of image. He’d do anything to stop the rumors about him. The people…
they can feel something’s not right with him.” Scott said quietly, looking
away. Apparently, he felt the same. Stiles sighed as he was eying his friend.
All this was so silly and he couldn’t believe Scott and the people fell for it.
But they probably wanted to fall for it. It was just one more rumor in the
pile, one more ‘mistake’ Peter made.
“Do you believe it was Peter?” Stiles asked then, putting his hand on Scott’s
shoulder. Scott just eyed something on the floor, then sighed.
“Your father is waiting to see you.” he said with a light smile, and somehow
Stiles didn’t mind he hadn’t gotten an answer.
Scott gladly lead him to the old king’s study and Stiles wasn’t expecting to
almost break down when he could finally see him and talk to him. The old king
looked tired, but still as determined as ever. Now that no one was fighting in
their country, he was ready to finally put the ruling in order too. He had
known about Derek’s plan about exposing Peter’s bite. But Stiles had to realize
that the old king didn’t know that the Hales were werewolves and it was good
like that. They didn’t need the whole country to be hysteric about all the
Hales. It was enough to see what they were doing with Peter.
Stiles also kept his mouth shut about Deucalion and the others. They were sill
facing years of prison, but they won’t go through a werewolf trial. Stiles
thought that no one should ever go through that trial, ever.
“Father…” Stiles started then at dinner with the old king. It was so strange
that they were together again, while Peter was in prison. The queen expected
him to turn up any second and demand him to go with him. But of course it
didn’t happen. “How much did you know? I mean… about the gods and the
werewolves.”
The old king frowned, and sighed heavily as he was eying the piece of meat on
his plate.
“I knew… that our country will flourish with the power of the new gods. I saw
how my father was working hard to bring forth the new religion and offer a
safe, peaceful country for his people. He always told me to get rid of the old
habits, the old temples, the old…”
“Beasts…” Stiles muttered quietly. His father smiled a little and nodded. “Why?
The old gods were leaving the lands, their powers were weakening… why did you
have to fight against the old religion in such a bloody way?”
“It wasn’t just me, Stiles.” his father said. “The people came to realize how
terrifying the old religion was and how the old creatures were something they
could fight against.”
“Did you give orders to burn up a house just because they said the family
living there were werewolves?” Stiles asked suddenly and hoped it wouldn’t be
true.
“That…” the old king started, his voice thick with guilt. “Was an action of
royal hunters, yes.”
“Someone from the Argents?” Stiles frowned and his father nodded. “Was it Sir
Argent?”
“No, no it was his sister, Lady Kate Argent.” the old king spoke. “I did order
them to keep an eye on that family, because we weren’t sure if they were beasts
or not.” he added, as if trying to confess to a sin he didn’t really commit.
But Stiles knew he still felt guilty about it. Yet, there was slight hope in
there for Derek and Cora.
The queen sighed. He knew Lady Kate Argent and now he knew why she was the
first one to die in the rebelling. It was because she personally burned down
the Hale house.
“Stiles.” his father started when he noticed he wasn’t eating. “I’m really
sorry you had to go through this.”
Stiles snapped his head up. No, he’s not going to let his father take the blame
for this too.
“No… Dad, I chose this, alright? I chose to marry Peter Hale, and I… I… you
know, I think I did my best.” he said, but at the end of his sentence his
throat tightened. It was really a lot he had to go through and he wasn’t ready
to look back at it. Not now. Not like this. “And, you know… there is actually
peace in the country.” he added with a sniff, looking away.
His father just smiled at him, but didn’t push the matter and Stiles was
thankful for that. He will need time. And he will see how Peter’s trial will
go.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm so emotional right now... Thank you for reading!!!
     Betaed by Evy~
 
Returning to the old capital, next to his father and his friends, after
everything was like returning to a time long forgotten. People were smiling at
him, and not that polite smile he always got in the fortress after he executed
the servants, it was a genuine smile. For some reason Stiles’ stomach clenched
into a knot every time he saw it.
Once again, he was waking up to Scott by his bed, already bringing his
breakfast, and during the day he could meet with old friends and familiar
faces. He spent lunch and dinner with his father, and he’d gotten a letter that
Her Grace Lydia was close by and will visit the old capital too. Stiles’ days
didn’t include dealing with any of the Hales. He didn’t meet either Derek, or
even Peter. They said Cora stayed back in the old Hale lands, but Derek was
definitely in the old capital.
The werewolf trial was three days after they arrived back to the castle and
Stiles wondered why wait that long. He didn’t ask anyone though. He didn’t want
to talk about Peter, he actually didn’t want to think about him at all; only
during the long nights he wondered if Peter really had enchanted him. Would
that explain that dull ache in his chest that made his throat feel like he just
swallowed something that burns his insides?
The night before the werewolf trial, Scott stayed in his room a bit longer.
“Stiles.” he started. “They will hold the trial tomorrow.” he spoke, looking at
the Queen who was sitting by his table reading a book.
“I know.” Stiles said lightly, shrugging.
“They will find him guilty.”
“Why are you so sure?” Stiles asked more curious than angry. He felt like he
should be angrier, or sadder, but what he felt was something closer to
dullness. Almost boredom.
“Derek said he knew how.” the guard answered, looking down. “I just wanted you
to know.” Stiles frowned, looking over at Scott and wondered what he meant by
that. He was eying his friend, trying to read him and then it occurred to him.
“You don’t think I was enchanted…” Stiles whispered and Scott swallowed,
looking away.
“I don’t know what happened, brother.” he spoke quietly. “I just want you to
stay safe. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore…” he motioned toward Stiles
with his hand without finishing the sentence and the queen felt scared.
There was no hope for Peter anymore. They will find him guilty and they will
execute him in front of all the people. He will die. Stiles took a sharp breath
and suppressed a shiver. He carried his gaze around the room as if it was the
first time he saw it. He felt like waking from a dream and he didn’t like it,
because he woke up to a nightmare.
“Maybe you should leave the castle for a while… Go to the manor by the lake.
I’ll go with you.” Scott’s soothing voice was calming, but not enough.
“I’ll stay.” Stiles said, just realizing how hoarse his voice was. “I want to
see…” he stuttered and Scott grabbed his hand, squeezing it. The boy still
didn’t approve of anything Stiles did in the past, but he wasn’t about to leave
him. Unlike someone else.
--
Stiles read about the werewolf trials. They started in his grandparents’ time
when they brought the new religion with the new gods and started chasing out
the old. They put suspicious people through trials and one of them was the
werewolf trial. They would try and trigger the transformation of the poor soul
who sometimes indeed transformed, but most of the time just died from the
damage they had to suffer through. They would cut them to see how they heal,
they would cover them with wolfsbane and if those didn’t work they would
proceed to torture them until it was sure they weren’t werewolves. It really
was more of a torturing rather than a trial.
Peter wasn’t human, he was a werewolf, but he seemed confident in his choice.
Stiles wondered why, but then Scott said Derek knew how to deal with him. The
worst part was that the queen knew that Peter couldn’t win in this and yet he
still hoped for some miracle… Even if he knew that Peter’s death would be the
only conclusion at this point.
They held the trial on castle grounds and opened the gates for the people too
so anyone who wanted to and was fast enough to arrive in time could see it.
Stiles was watching from his window how they set up the stage for their king.
It was early in the morning, but the townspeople already swarmed the castle
grounds and Stiles sent Scott away to help maintain the security. He only kept
two guards outside his door; he didn’t need company for this.
The moment they led Peter on the stage the crowd was furious, but Stiles could
feel the tension. They were afraid of Peter for long years and they were still
afraid. No one dared to throw anything on stage, or shout, they were waiting,
expecting. Stiles licked his lips as he was eying the man and realized his
presence was still that of a warlord who had conquered their whole kingdom.
That’s why the crowd was still afraid: Peter was their king.
The executioners proceeded as Stiles had read, tying Peter’s arms to the two
set up poles and making a small cut on his forearm. The man didn’t even wince,
but the cut didn’t heal and Stiles gasped. Peter probably could control his
healing… The queen licked his lips and grabbed onto the windowsill. This is
what Peter was playing at: he could control his healing. He might really be
able to go through this trial.
It was going exactly how Stiles read it in the books and Peter wasn’t showing
any signs of being a werewolf. The crowd was getting nervous too, just like the
executioners. Hysteria was about to break out: were they wrong?
Stiles felt cold sweat break out on his body, already thinking about what Peter
will do if he comes out of this alive and tortured. He will be the one
personally burning up the country and not the new gods.
Just when that thought was running through everyone’s head, one of the
executioners took a torch and lit it. Stiles frowned. Burning the suspected
wasn’t a part of the trial. The man let the torch burn a little, while he was
looking at Peter.
The king cocked his chin up as if he expected this kind of trick, and Stiles
felt his stomach drop. Peter was burned once, he practically died in a fire…
The fire made him swore revenge against the country and the new era. The queen
watched as the torch was getting closer to Peter’s naked shoulder, his skin
already blistered and Stiles felt like he was going to get sick. Peter bared
his teeth.
Stiles turned away from the window, pushing his back against the wall. The roar
of the werewolf was painful and ear deafening. Stiles covered his own ears as
he slumped down the wall, screaming to not have to hear it, but it still echoed
inside his whole body. He shut his eyes so tight tears were rolling down his
cheeks. Peter was found guilty, he was a werewolf, naturally. The people went
mad and their shouting and cursing was worse than Peter’s roar. Stiles didn’t
want to hear any of that, so he stayed in his room with his hands tight against
his ears.
Three days ago he thought he finally arrived home, but he realized he wasn’t
home. He had no idea where his home was anymore.
After the successful trial, they took Peter to the prison in the town. They
will execute him on the town’s square in two days. The old king was king again,
and Stiles was just a fallen queen; a prince married to the traitor. Stiles
also knew he wouldn’t be able to be king anymore; he was stuck as a prince,
because his country didn’t believe in him anymore. He didn’t particularly care;
as long as he could sit close to where things were happening, he felt like he
might be able to do his best. He knew they will have a long talk with his
father about who could be a good successor of the throne.
--
The next day Derek requested his release from the castle back to the original
Hale lands and Stiles found himself wanting to shout at him. Scott told Stiles
the man was down the castle grounds preparing his horse. He wanted to travel
alone. Stiles wondered why he wouldn’t stay for the execution of his uncle, but
then he realized. It was probably because Peter was still his uncle.
Stiles stepped out of the entrance, looking around for Derek just to see him by
his horse, ready to go. His stance was tense and his eyes were unfocused. His
whole presence was a mess and as Stiles walked down the stairs to meet him he
wondered how Derek looked much, much older.
“Derek…” Stiles started and jumped a little at how weak his voice sounded. He
had no idea what to say suddenly, even if he wanted to yell at the man. He
wanted to make him feel guilty for what he had done to Peter, but he found no
strength for it as he was watching Derek. The sorrow in the man’s eyes was
thick and suffocating and the prince realized that there was enough guilt there
already.
“Your Majesty.” Derek muttered, not even looking at him. He mentally scrambled
to put on a strong expression and not one of a weakling’s, Stiles realized. The
prince licked his lips, looking away for a second.
“Your family is protected. Your secret is safe with me.” he started, suddenly
raising his eyes back at the soldier. Derek froze and finally looked at him
too. His glance had a hint of confusion, but for Stiles’ greatest relief it
softened. Derek trust him. Finally, after everything. “No need for more
bloodbath over old traditions.” Stiles swallowed. It was never really proven
that all the Hales were werewolves, so they might have a chance of living a
peaceful life. A life they originally wanted and deserved.
Derek just nodded without a word and Stiles thought he was done speaking. And
that was fine. Stiles stepped closer and put his hand on his shoulder,
squeezing it a little as a goodbye, then turned to leave.
“You would have been a good king.” Derek started suddenly and Stiles felt as if
an arrow just shot through his chest. He slowly turned back to the man, his
lips dry. “It’d have been an honor to serve you, Your Majesty.” Stiles throat
tightened, but said nothing as Derek finally got on his horse. He was finally
going home, back to his only family. Stiles wondered if maybe this was the last
time they’d see each other.
“Sir Derek Hale.” Stiles started quietly. “The honor would have been mine.” he
nodded and watched as the man turned his horse around and galloped away. The
last of the Hales were out of his life and Stiles should have felt relieved.
But all he could feel was something heavy and burdening that pulled down his
shoulders and knees to the point where he could barely walk, or get out of bed.
--
Her Grace Lydia Martin arrived a day before Peter’s execution, requesting a
private dinner with the prince. Actually she was the only person who could make
Stiles leave his room and tend his duties. Ever since the trial he didn’t feel
like himself; he wasn’t sad or angry, not even feeling dull. He just …existed.
At the request of Her Grace he forced himself to get out of bed and go to the
royal dining room. As expected it was only the two of them spending their lunch
as such.
“Long time no see, Your Majesty.” Lydia started, picking up her fork.
“Oh, indeed. Thank you for the help with the bear.” Stiles smiled politely,
looking over the Duchess. She was as beautiful as ever with her strawberry red
hair, fair skin and pink lips. Stiles once again wondered how she could be a
siren, because nothing this vivid and pink could come from the dark-dark ocean.
Yet, as he was looking at her, something caught his eye. It wasn’t anything
visible, more like an undertone. A feeling. Something familiar.
“Don’t mention it.” Lydia smiled politely, then eyed him for a few minutes
while he didn’t speak, then sighed.
“Did I ever tell you about my late husband Jackson?” she asked, leaning back in
her chair. Stiles just rolled his eyes.
“I’m not really in the mood to talk about that prick.” he started and took a
deep breath. He was still a royalty, he wasn’t supposed to talk like this about
anyone, let alone the dead. But Lydia didn’t miss a beat, she just pulled her
lips into an unhappy smile and continued.
“I loved him.” she stated it as a matter of fact. “He was a horrible person, he
wasn’t as strong as he showed to others and I’ve never seen anyone more selfish
than he was.” Stiles snorted, wondering why Lydia’s telling this to him now. He
knew all of this before, that’s why he hated Jackson, because he was a stuck
up, evil little troll. And he snatched Lydia from under his nose. Good old
times. “I married him for status and wealth.” Lydia said. “And along the way I
made this stupid little mistake.”
Stiles stopped munching on his piece of meat and raised his eyes at the duchess
again. He quickly swallowed his bite, almost choking on it and Lydia continued,
a bit quieter this time.
“I loved him.” she said, eying Stiles this time. “I thought I would have stood
next to him until the end of times, and he knew that too. He was in love with
me, Stiles. In his own, selfish, abusive way… and I thought that was enough.”
She licked her trembling lips and looked away. Her eyes were sparkling from
tears in the lazy autumn sunlight.
“What happened?” Stiles’ voice was just a whisper. He felt like choking,
because what Lydia was saying made too much sense and he could relate.
“One night someone broke into the manor and stabbed him.” Her Grace said. “I
could have saved him.” she added and she turned back to the prince then.
“You didn’t?” Stiles asked a little confused.
“I didn’t.” she whispered. The prince didn’t ask the question ‘why’, because he
knew Lydia will answer. And she did. “I would have continued to love him and do
as he pleases. I could bear with everything he was causing to me… But then I
got a chance to break free. I could have never hurt him, but I could step
aside.”
“You… let him die, so your love wouldn’t destroy your life.” Stiles muttered in
shock. He was looking at Lydia, and really looked at her. She was strong-willed
and she was powerful, but even she couldn’t match up to this stupid thing
called love. It wasn’t romantic, it was awfulanddestructive.
“I chose my pride.” she said, smiling, but not happy. “And I don’t regret it,
Stiles. I paid a huge price for my mistake. But I have no regrets.”
The boy swallowed, looking around their table in deep thought. Lydia made her
choice, but Stiles knew she was waking from nightmares deep in the night,
screaming. She had to make the same choice as him and she chose for Jackson to
die. She didn’t run away, she just chose a different way.
Stiles thought he already made his choice too, but he realized he hadn’t. He
still had one day. One more day.
“Lydia…” he looked up at her, his limbs trembling.
“I’m not telling you what to do.” the duchess started sharply. “But you and I
are not the same and I want you to really think about that.”
Stiles jumped from his chair and hurried around the table to Lydia. He cupped
her face in his hands and placed a kiss on her forehead.
“Thank you…” he whispered against her skin and kissed her again. “Thank you,
thank you…” he repeated and he felt Lydia stand from her chair, sliding his
arms around him.
“Take care.” she whispered in a shivering voice. Stiles moved his arms to hug
her back too.
“Thank you…!” he said at last. “And I’m sorry…” he added, before he turned to
leave. He didn’t look back. He was discrete enough to leave Lydia and her tears
alone.
--
“W-what?” Scott blinked as he was watching Stiles close an envelope with wax
and his seal.
“I want to see him.” Stiles said and finally turned to Scott, leaving the
letter on his table.
“But…” his guard frowned, shaking his head a little, but the queen didn’t
budge. “Alright.” Scott sighed and motioned Stiles to follow him. They went in
secret, because Stiles didn’t want to draw too much attention. The town’s
prison wasn’t that far from the castle after all and on small streets they
could reach it quickly and without much attention.
When they arrived to Peter’s cell, Scott was looking troubled. His brows were
furrowed and his lips were a thin line as he was trying to think of something
to say. Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to make him stop, or he wanted to talk
about it again, or just straight out wanted to tell his prince and best friend
how stupid he was. Stiles had heard it all before…
Stiles stepped closer to Peter, his gaze not leaving him as if afraid he will
disappear. The man looked tired and his old cruel presence was just of an
angry, old and fallen king’s. Stiles swallowed and walked up to him, hearing
the keys ring in Scott’s hand as he was thinking about pulling him back. But in
the end he let Stiles do as he wanted.
Peter eyed Stiles, his expression was unreadable. Was he happy? Was he afraid?
Or he didn’t feel anything, maybe he was incapable of it and Stiles caught
himself thinking that he wouldn’t be surprised. With a sigh he slowly knelt
down to be at eyelevel with Peter. It was the first time he’d seen him this
close since they arrived back in the old capital and his chest tightened.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked with a hint of a laugh in his raspy voice and
Stiles frowned at him.
“I…” he started, but then the man moved his hand slowly to his face and brushed
his cheek with his thumb. Stiles just realized that his face was wet with
tears.
“Stiles.” Peter really chuckled lowly this time, almost disappointed. “You
really don’t have to do this.” he whispered.
“Peter.” Stiles started, grabbing his husband’s hand before he could pull it
away. He had no idea what he should say or do or ask. Or why he even came here.
“Did… did you know why… why the new gods don’t like the old beasts?” he asked,
suddenly nervous.
“I can’t believe that in the last of my hours you’re going to treat me with
once again useless knowledge.” Peter sighed, looking out the window, at the
place he will be executed tomorrow.
“The new gods… the new gods- they think you don’t have a soul. That no werewolf
has one.” Stiles spoke and wiped his eyes a bit angrily.
“A soul, huh.” Peter snorted, turning his head back to the boy. “That is one
thing they would be right about. I, personally, don’t possess a soul. I thought
you were aware of that by now.” he said almost triumphantly. Stiles shook his
head.
“I think it’s not true, I know you have one. You might not have a heart, but
you have a soul.” he insisted and Peter chuckled again. “I know…” Stiles
repeated and the following silence almost deafened him. Until suddenly, Peter
spoke ever so softly.
“The gods are really cruel. Old, new, ancient, they are all cruel.” he
murmured, carrying his gaze around his cell. “The old ones abandoned me. They
let my family burn and made me survive as a shell…” he said. “And then the new
ones gave you to me.” he smiled and Stiles’ breath hitched. “While I clearly
don’t deserve you. The gods were just taunting me.” he sighed and his gaze
became sharper as he eyed Stiles.
“So I want you to get out of here. Go and don’t look back. You can build your
kingdom now the way you and everyone wants it, Stiles. You won, you beat the
old beasts, you beat me.” he spoke darkly in a low voice and every word of his
was like a stab in Stiles’ heart, because Peter was telling the truth. Then
Peter pushed him away. “Get out!” he roared and Scott was by Stiles’ side,
pulling him away.
Stiles just scrambled away in a shock, he barely realized that his bodyguard
pulled him to his feet.
“I knew this was a bad idea.” Scott hissed as he dragged him out of the cell.
He attempted to get out of the town’s prison and probably escort Stiles back to
the castle. But then Stiles freed his hands from his grip.
“Give me the keys.” he said and he was aware his stare must have been bordering
on manic, because Scott’s breath hitched.
“Stiles—“ he started, but the prince didn’t wait for him. He was done with
words. So he grabbed the keys from Scott’s hand and pushed him away. Stiles
turned to run back to Peter’s cell but he spotted a torch on the wall. Without
thinking he quickly grabbed it and used it to stop Scott to jump at him. He
kept backing away to Peter’s cell holding up the light until he reached the
door. Stiles threw the torch toward Scott and the guards who were assembling at
the commotion and turned to open the door.
Stiles threw himself down to Peter again, grabbing one of his hands to open his
shackles.
“Do you have a death wish?!” the wolf hissed at him and attempted to push him
away. Stiles bared his teeth and clang to the man’s arm, still trying to open
the handcuff.
“You made me yours and then you’d throw it all away?!” Stiles shouted when he
managed to open the lock. Then he reached for Peter’s other hand. “I’m not
going to let you die! I promised I’ll protect you!”
“Stiles!” Peter roared back, and at the same time someone grabbed on the boy’s
shoulder. Stiles groaned and tried to push the guard away, but he had an iron
grip on him.
“Your Majesty—“ he started, pulling Stiles away, but the boy was fighting.
Though he still wasn’t a match for a built prison guard, so he managed to drag
him away from Peter, throwing him against the bars. Stiles blacked out for a
second as his head hit the hard wooden bars, because when he opened his eyes
Peter was crouching over the guard having a death grip on his neck.
“Peter!” Stiles gasped and scrambled to his feet to stop him. He didn’t want
anyone to get hurt or die. He practically pried Peter’s hand off the
unconscious guard and held it as tight as he could. Then he gasped.
“You could… you could break the chains?” he asked out of breath and looked at
Peter utterly confused.
“I could.” Peter nodded and squeezed Stiles’ hand. He was strong enough to free
himself, but he hadn’t done it. He hadn’t done it… The question must have been
on Stiles’ face, because the wolf answered. “It didn’t have a point.” he said
and pulled Stiles out of the cell.
Both of them stumbled to a halt as huge flames welcomed them. The torch Stiles
used as a shield had lit the hay and wooden walls of the prison up in seconds.
The smoke was already thick and it was difficult to see.
“Stiles!” the prince heard Scott’s voice and he just squeezed Peter’s hand at
that. Scott arrived from the smoke and flames with more guards by his side,
their sword drawn.
Stiles licked his burning lips, looking at Scott for a second.
“This way!” he turned to Peter and pulled him toward the opposite direction,
where the flames were the most intense.
“Stiles!” Scott shouted almost hysterically and Peter pulled him back too. He
didn’t say anything or screamed, but he was purely terrified and he wanted an
explanation. Stiles had no time, none of them had time. So he just stepped
close to Peter so he would definitely hear him in the destruction that was
happening around them.
“Trust me.” Stiles said and pulled him after him once again. Peter didn’t stop
him this time, but went with him. He followed the prince into the flames.
“STILES!” Scott screamed, but when he leaped after them the fire swallowed both
Stiles and Peter.
The fire burned down the whole prison in a few hours, not leaving much after
it. It was so hot and so destructive they could barely retrieve anything that
was supposed to be the bones of the people trapped in it… Peter’s grave had
became the prison and Stiles went with him.
--
After the fire, Scott didn’t dare to walk near Stiles’ room. He tried to occupy
himself, tried to make himself busy with the security and the building of a new
prison in town or assisting in the funeral preparations. He requested to be the
king’s private bodyguard, hoping that somehow he could work off the guilt he
felt. He lost Stiles, he let him walk straight into the flames with Peter and
burn. Scott saw their silhouettes in the smoke every time he went to sleep and
he wasn’t sure if he’ll ever get over it. How he couldn’t have seen what Stiles
had been planning?!
But one day Scott couldn’t bear it anymore. He opened the door and looked
inside the room, expecting Stiles to be sitting by the table, or on his bed, or
leaning out the window to see the sky. But the prince wasn’t there anymore. He
was gone; and his empty room was proof of that. Scott slowly walked in, looking
around and trying to remember the times when they were still kids, running
around on castle grounds. When they laughed at the grown-ups together and
everything was beyond them. There were no wars, or warlords. Werewolves were
just a myth and the new gods were still merciful.
When Scott decided he tortured himself enough he turned to leave, but something
caught his attention on the desk. It was the letter Stiles wrote on the day of
the fire. Scott sighed and stepped to the desk to take the letter and bring it
to whoever Stiles wrote it for. He was the most surprised when it was his name
on the envelope.
Scott frowned and broke the seal, revealing the contents of the letter. It
wasn’t a letter, it was the detailed plans of the town prison. The guard
frowned, staring at the browned outlines and trying to make sense of it all. As
he folded it open a small piece of paper fell out.
‘I’m sorry.’ was written on it with Stiles’ own handwriting.
That was it. An apology from Stiles and the map of the prison. What was he
supposed to do with these? Scott sighed, staring at the last of the things
Stiles was trying to tell him and his gaze fell upon Peter’s cell and where
they escaped into their deaths. Stiles had lead them toward the flames to die.
Scott didn’t have any other idea why he would have done that. But as he
followed Stiles’ way, he saw something.
Scott frowned, leaning closer to the paper. He thought his mind was just
playing tricks on him. But the longer he was staring at the drawing the more he
realized: there was a secret trapdoor there.
They didn’t kill themselves; they escaped.
 
                                   Epilogue
 
It has been more than a year since the short ruling of the Insane King. The
people were afraid another war will break out after his trial, but the old King
Stilinski had an iron grip on the landlords who would want to rebel, despite
his obvious loss. The promising young crown prince had died under mysterious
circumstances and it was questionable who will inherit the throne after him
without an heir. But rumors said that the king adopted a gifted young knight:
Scott McCall.
The town by the border had a small inn. It never had seen too many guests, but
this time all its rooms were occupied and they had to cook more from the stew
for the people. All the travelers had returned who fled the country during the
War and wanted to refresh themselves before they proceed on their journey to
the capital. The innkeeper was a middle aged woman; they called her Merry Mary,
because her smile could warm the hearts just as much as her good ale.
Mary smiled as she was wiping the counter, listening to the bard’s song. A tale
about the lands of the ancient gods; a song of long lost spells and forgotten
creatures. His voice wasn’t that clear and his fingers were a bit clumsy on the
lute, but what he lacked in skill, he made up in passion. His words were filled
with magic; the kind which made people stop and turn to listen. He was a true
storyteller, he was a true bard, mesmerizing his audience.
When he was done with his song the inn applauded him and a few people paid for
the song. The boy accepted the money and stood from his place next to the
fireplace to walk to the counter. Mary smiled at him as she saw him counting
the small amount of money he’d gotten.
“Don’t worry about it boy, you already paid for your meal with that song.” She
said gently and waved her hand a little. The bard looked up at her from under
his dark green hood and she gasped. The boy had the most sparkling eyes she’d
ever seen, but a huge burn mark was spreading on half of his face, running down
his neck and she could only wonder where the scar ended. Mary was used to
injured people like him. The war threatened to take everything from them and
then the Insane King took over and it had gotten worse. There were a lot of
injured men and women and even children on the road. Just like this boy. But
with the promise of a new, young king these people might have a place to rest,
finally.
“Then I’d like two plates of stew.” the bard smiled at her and she had to
realize she was staring.
“Coming right up.” she smiled a little embarrassed as she prepared the stew.
“I’m sorry for staring.” she apologized, placing the food on the counter.
“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” the boy shrugged, licking his lips as he was
looking at the freshly made meal.
“I’m so sorry. It must have hurt and… it ruins such a pretty face.” she sighed,
tilting her head to look at him again. The bard just smiled, shaking his head.
“You don’t need to feel sorry.” he started, looking up again at Mary with his
eyes more vivid than before. “Because my husband kisses me every day and every
night and I really don’t need anything else.”
Mary blinked a little surprised, but as she watched the boy take the two plates
to bring them over to a man, she smiled again. Maybe their kingdom will be fine
now, with a king like His Majesty McCall and with people like this boy and his
husband.
 
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