
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/569858.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Lydia_Martin/Jackson_Whittemore, Isaac
      Lahey/Danny_Mahealani
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinksi, Derek_Hale, Erica_Reyes, Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      Game_of_Thrones_Fusion, direwolves, Dubious_Consent, Arranged_Marriage,
      Slavery, Magic, Mpreg, Werewolves, BAMF_Stiles_Stilinski, Awesome_Erica,
      Vague_Bestiality
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-01 Words: 4905
****** and the wild things roared their terrible roar ******
by hoars
Summary
     Derek as Khal Drogo (but set in snow beyond the wall) and Stiles as
     Daenerys Stormborn (although he's a greenseer of the Children rather
     than a dragon).
Notes
     I read the prompt on lj, ignored it, got half way through Game of
     Thrones and read the bit about the Children and this practically
     wrote itself. So, I'm sorry to all the Game of Thrones die hards if I
     totally mangled canon. Seriously, I read the maester and Bran
     conversation and immediately started typing. Yeah.
     I tried keeping with Khal Drogo/Daenerys plot line as much as
     possible without completely copying it again so, sorry once again if
     someone does not like the fact I didn't stay completely true to the
     plot line.
     Title is from Where the Wild Things Are.
See the end of the work for more notes
They literally throw Stiles to the Wolves when he’s fifteen.
He's agreenseer. A beloved son of the Children, yet not even that could save
him.
 His father had clutched his arm hard, he carried the bruises for an entire
moon cycle, but the elders insisted. A greenseer for an alliance between the
Children and the Wolves was a small price to pay, they argued over the fire.
His father tried vainly to keep him with him, with their people, but one of the
elders took Stiles aside and assured him if he went willing, if he gave his
body to the Wolves, they'd take care of his aging father, insure he will be
cared for every winter, no matter how harsh.
He agrees. How can he not?Winter is coming. No one but the elders can be
guaranteed an easy winter and his father has seen too many bad ones, including
the one the year previous that murdered his mother.
He doesn't meet his betrothed until the hand fasting.
The day is spent feasting and there's Wolves everywhere. Some have their faces
twisted into feral mockery of humanity, others were humanoid wolves, other
still are shifted into the giant direwolves that prey on everything that moves
in the forest, including the Children. His people eyes those ones with fear. He
has no clue which of these dark haired, bright eyed and light skinned Wolves
will be his husband.
He finds out in front of the bonfire that night, "Everything the Wolves do must
be witnessed by their Mother Moon." One of the elders explains. Night weddings
were not Children tradition, neither was the ceremony being held in the
beginnings of winter. "I will not lie. We need this union to keep the young and
old fed." Everything the Children do must be witnessed by the trees with faces
and the ceremony taking place in glade the gods watch over and Stiles is a
greenseer. He insists that he marry in the godswood in a tone none of the
elders can argue with.
His bridegroom is striking and has red eyes that light from within. Stiles is
cowed even as he holds his head high. His heart stutters and skips and he
doesn’t know how it keeps pumping blood. By all accounts, his fear should have
killed him by now. Derek, he learns his name from one of the slaves – “We are
omegas, not slaves.” -- later that night, has feral eyes and looks at Stiles
like he wants to crawl into his spirit and chew his way out.
His description of the Wolf is apt.
He is young, not the grizzled and grey man Stiles expecting when the elders
first announced their decision. His face is attractive, absolutely no marks on
him like he’s healed every scar that could be. In any other circumstance,
Stiles may have enjoyed the man’s winter beauty, but as the circumstances are,
he despairs. This is not a man, he thinks, this is a Wolf that leads and kills.
This is a wild, feral being that none can tame.
That night, Stiles is told to run under the moonlight, to the jeers of the
Wolves, the omega girl that prepared him for his hand fasting explaining the
particulars, "They want to make sure they found a worthy mate for their alpha.
Run, hide, evade him for as long as you can. Fight him. No one likes a cowed
bitch as their alpha-mate."
So Stiles does.
He uses the magic that comes naturally to him. He knocks snow from the trees to
cover his tracks. Covers his scent as much as the pine needles will allow. He
uses magic to send his husband – “Wolves do not have wives or husbands. We have
mates.” -- in the opposing directions, away from Stiles and he's lost and
panting when he falls to his knees in the early snow.
The moon is still bright, sinking slowly down the sky and he's so afraid. His
magic is dwindling down to little sparks that he's using to keep warm. The
forest cracks and snaps and he jerks to stare but then he hears it from the
other direction. He thinks maybe Derek has found him, not possible, not so
soon, but then again, isn't that the idea? His heart is pounding, drowning out
all other noise which isn't in his best interest and he's tensing, getting rid
to sprint away, just in case.
He doesn't make it far before a Wolf pounces on him, slamming him into the snow
and knocking his breath from his lungs. He struggles. He uses the warmth he's
been using in his hands to grab on to fur, by the Gods, he’s a direwolf, to
burn him away from him. The Wolf howls in pain and snarls, grabbing Stiles' arm
in thick jaws that threaten to break bone. Stiles stills.
The Wolf settles on top of him, and takes him under the Mother Moon.
The Wolves have a large territory and roam all around it. The Children Stiles
was once a part of live in the middle of their territory. Stiles will travel
with them and this is why they picked a greenseer to live alongside the Wolves.
His magic protects him from the worst of the cold. He can keep up with them
better than a normal Child could. The winter won’t claim his life like it
claimed his mother’s.
It doesn’t stop him from struggling through the heavy snow with the Wolves that
are not Wolves but have only the one human skin. Derek is always in the front,
leading the way. Stiles stops by the godtrees he can, resting a hand on them
for strength and cries his grief and loneliness into them when he can. They
always pulse against his palm, like a reminder, the Wolves may own you now, but
your blood belongs to us. It always gives him the strength to stay with the
pack and fulfill his duties as alpha-mate when all he wants is to run back to
his father and people.
He shares a tent with Derek every night.
Derek fucks him nightly, and Stiles lays back and lets it happen, telling
himself that he's trading his body for warmth. His magic can't be active all
the time. He needs time to rest his body and Derek only grunts when he burrows
into the Wolf's side afterwards. It hurts sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't and
Stiles despairs this will be the rest of his life.
It unexpectedly changes when another pack of Wolves begins to hunt in their
territory. Forcible expansion, Stiles thinks, winter has driven them from
what’s theirs.
Stiles is left with the children and women and men who are Wolves but aren’t
shifters when the others leave the pack to chase the strange pack away.
He's sitting with the omega girl that serves as his attendant and bodyguard.
Her name is Erica. She’s a beautiful blonde from a village that the Wolves
raided along the Wall. She’s seen his body after his nights with Derek and
always offers her advice in low whispers. Stiles thinks she does it primarily
to see his face burn. The Children were not like this when it came to
couplings, and Erica is unlike anyone he’s ever known. He's seen Derek's
closest Wolves take her in the snow on her knees or back and she always arches
into it, like she gains pleasure from it and howls and screams. "Men like him
take. He thinks he needs to conquer you. Something about you is still, other.
Some of the Wolves fear you because of it." She whispers into his cold ear, her
breath making it sting. "If you let yourself be his, it will allow him into
being gentle. Kinder. Wolves do not destroy what is theirs. Not purposely."
She's whispering different techniques into his ear, dirty filthy things Stiles
can never imagine having the bravery to do because Derek is so strong and
intimidating. He manhandles him like Stiles is a child with no effort. He’s
witnessed Derek throwing a tree that had fallen in their path like Stiles would
to a stick. She’s whispering about the power of being on your knees when
everything gets eerily quiet and so, so, so cold.
The wind doesn't speak. The other pack members fall silent and glance at each
other in confusion. Quiet never befalls the forest like this. This is wrong and
makes the hairs on Stiles’ neck stand on end. Erica jerks her head up in fear
and Isaac, another bodyguard, shifts into a dark brown direwolf. Then the White
Walkers start to appear from the trees, the pack fearfully drawing tight
together because most of the seasoned protectors of the Pack are with Derek,
chasing after the intruding pack.
The screams begin as the White Walkers get their hands on the Wolves and
Stiles, Stiles can't allow this to happen to Derek's pack, to people Derek
obviously lives for. His magic races to his touch and he instantly feels the
bite of the cold he usually counters and begins flinging his magic at them,
burning bright in their vision and they hurl themselves at him and he keeps
himself out of their reach as the Wolves that only wear human skin like him
begin to make fire, torches and that's good, very good, why didn't he think
about that?
He rushes into the forest, orders falling from his mouth like they always come
easy. He absorbs the moisture from the fallen trees and branches with every
touch, always a hair faster than the White Walkers and it's Erica, that catches
on, "Grab the wood! Light it! Trap them!"
The White Walkers, there are two but even two is enough to kill the entire
Pack, howl and shriek as they burn. Stiles watches and the Pack brings him wet
wood to dry out to keep the fire roaring. The Wolves protecting their territory
howl in terror as they begin to return, and even with his Children ears he can
distinguish the sound, but Isaac throws his head back and howls in victory and
after a beat all of the other Wolves repeat the action, their howls leading
their pack mates home.
He's injured from the close calls with the White Walkers when Derek and the
rest of the Wolves return and Erica and the other men and women of the pack are
huddled around Stiles, trying to put warmth back into his bones. His magic took
a lot from him and he's grateful for their bodies. He has cuts all over his
face from ice, bruises from when he fell, torn clothing from when a White
Walker tore his sleeve, skin abused by the elements. But he's glowing in
victory. He helped take down a threat to the Pack. He's not anyone's burden.
That night marks a change in Derek and Stiles.
Embolden by his daring, he's unafraid to push and pull Derek how he wants him,
how Erica has told him it could be, under the night sky, with the Mother Moon
so she can witnesses them. All important events that happen to the Wolves is
witnessed by the Moon and Stiles is important, he is. Maybe it's a combination
of all their trials that day. Maybe Derek is tired from his own battle, but he
lets Stiles move him with amusement and Erica was right.
This time is easier, gentler, harder with Stiles on top, Derek's hands pressing
into each bruise, making it hurt so beautifully and wildly he wishes he can
mark Derek, make him his so all the Wolves know Derek's his as much as he's
Derek's. He can hear Erica moaning, not far from them and Derek seems to never
feel the cold of snow and now Stiles doesn't feel it either. He can't say if
he's using magic with every sound that tears from his throat, but the cold
doesn't touch him. He has always been ambivalent towards sex before, when it
doesn't hurt. Now he can't imagine not having this, not feeling Derek in him at
all times and he whines and covers Derek's mouth with his own.
“Kissing,” Erica told him with eyes reflecting her previous life, “is not
something Wolves do. A practice only humans and the Children follow.”
Stiles is of the Children. The godwoods speak to him. He commands the ability
to warm, bring rain, destroy and create. He will have this.
And it's good, feeling Derek in his mouth and he irrationally wants Derek in
him in any way possible. He wants it badly enough he whimpers at the thought
and Derek's eyes convey his confusion at Stiles' scent of loss.
After that night, it's easier to share his bed with Derek. He enjoys it and
craves it like the deviant Derek has made him.
His magic gets stronger.
Derek's Wolves smirk at him and seem proud of their alpha, constantly
congratulating him on his mating to the greenseer. Derek never smirks back or
says anything to their lewd jokes, just finds Stiles and pins him with green
eyes that turn red in a blink.
He uses his magic to keep the wood and fabrics dry, uses his magic to warm the
children and human skinned pack mates as they patrol their territory. He uses
it to trick White Walkers into traps for Derek and his Wolves to tear apart,
their teeth stronger than steel and more deadly it seemed than fire. He uses it
to mask their scents from packs that dare step a paw in their territory. Derek
proud and pleased every inch of the way.
Before, Derek seemed to think he only existed at night when he wanted a warm
body. Now, Derek follows him, keeps him warm when he’s strained himself,
insures he doesn’t over extend himself more than necessary and keeps his energy
up with meat.
He's sixteen when the rest of gifts begin to manifest. The gifts that make him
a pride to his people and more valuable to the Wolves.
Greenseers can use their magic to become animals, use it to see into the
future, to predict a threats, find food – they believe it, will it and it
happens.
Stiles finds when he is nestled into Derek's side around the camp fire, and
he's pleasantly warm and the fire is all he can see, he will see glimpses of
tree falls, snow blocking passes, enemy packs drifting into their territory.
“A good gift for your mate, my little wolf.” Derek breathes after the first few
visions are proven true. “You make me so strong.”
“Anything for you, my moon.” Stiles says, meaning it down to his bones.
“Anything you want.”
The Wolves travel to a cave for the coldest part of winter.
They all sleep together in a mess of bodies and heat. Any modesty Stiles once
had a claim to is lost in that mess, finding he didn't want to live without
Derek's hands on his skin, his mouth biting into his skin and fingers
searching, the first night. It's in that cave the Wolves began to act
differently. The shifters inhaling Stiles scent like something to savor with
something akin to joy in their eyes. Derek keeps him closer, bringing him
everywhere and constantly feeding him, showing constant affection that isn’t
normal for the Alpha. Feeding him seems to be a thing for everyone in the pack.
Keeping him feed, warm and asleep. He doesn't find out why until winter loses
her hold and he can venture out of the cave without half a dozen animal skins
to keep him warm and his stomach has grown.
"What on earth?" He whispers in shock.
His stomach is bulging slightly and when he touches it with trembling fingers,
it is firm. Not a buildup of fat, but a growth of something else.
"You're with child." Erica assesses, pleasure and contentment in her voice.
"You aren’t surprised." Stiles says faintly.
She shakes her head with a wicked smile. “We could all smell it on you, for
weeks.” Her face grows serious."You aren’t very far along," She says. "The
Wolves would have said if you were far along not to lose the child."
For all that she is a Wolf like the others, Erica was bitten, made into what
she is. She’s an omega and as such, the Wolves pretend not to see her or
interact with her unless they desire her. She seems content with the
arrangement and tells him one night where Derek is away and he doesn’t want to
sleep alone, “I prefer the conversation of the omegas more. They are like me.
From not around here. They have interesting stories and thoughts.”
He goes back to find the cave to find Derek -- his mouth curling like how his
mate's does when he's furious and attacks the other man. He’s snarling mad and
ready to sink his teeth into his mate’s flesh and does it to Derek’s laughter.
Derek's Wolves hoot and laugh and Derek is humoring him, much too gentle for
the rage and violence he's inflicting on his mate that turns into sex as it
always does. It's violent in a way that Derek approves of, his words and
movements encouraging, eyes red and staring deep into Stiles’ gold ones. Daring
him. Edging him on. Pushing him.
He slumps exhausted against Derek's chest, breathing heavily and glaring into
his mate’s eyes. "Wolves bite you know." He informs his mate and bites his
mate's chest hard to prove a point.
"Yes, they do little wolf." Derek agrees with a bite to Stiles' throat. "And
our cub will be the strongest, most vicious of us all."
The child grows in him with each moon and he can feel it changing in him like
her father does. It takes all his magic those nights to keep the cub from
ripping his insides to shreds and he always sleeps heavily the next day. "It
will be a future alpha is why." Erica thinks. "The beta wolves do not shift in
the mother."
All the Alphas gather after winter ends in the mountains to see who has passed
the winter and who has fallen.
"Neuge and her pack froze." An alpha speaks.
And so it goes. The accounts of packs that did not survive winter and those
that did not survive another pack. Stiles watches it all through narrow eyes,
calculating, measuring these strange packs, their weaknesses and strengths.
“No blood may be spilt in these mountains.” Derek explains the night before
they make the climb. “It is the burial ground of every Alpha and everyone must
be allowed to seek their Alphas’ wisdom.”
It makes sense, like how the other Children living in the forest do not destroy
another’s godstree but leaves it offerings and cares for it like they would
their own.  
Their Pack relies on speed, viciousness and cunning. Unlike a lot of the Alphas
here, their Pack has the Children to cultivate fruit and nuts for when meat is
scarce, making them healthier as well. Maybe the other packs think it makes
Derek weak, relying on the Children. Derek’s Wolves give the Children
protection for as long as they keep the gods satisfied and appeased to keep the
trees flowing with nuts and fruit in summer and encourage plant life in winter
so the deer and rabbits will not be scarce. It is an alliance that works,
Stiles thinks when he sees how gaunt and tiny the other Wolves are compared to
them. He does not know why some packs hunt the Children in their territory and
don’t forge an alliance instead.
But recording and sharing information of other packs is not all that the Alphas
have gathered to do.
Stiles is not the only alpha-mate expecting a future Alpha, much less the only
one born a non-Wolf.
There is a pack that has a Wildling woman, a man from the Night Watch, an
adventurer from the beyond the Wall, a woman given to a pack as a sacrifice at
a village along the Wall. Five non-Wolf alpha-mates out of dozens.
There are only two others pregnant that must prove the cubs they carry will be
the next alpha in their pack. None of the Wolves expecting a cub are expecting
an alpha cub, not even the male Wolf mated to the Alpha female with frost
bitten skin from White Walkers decorating her body. It’s a source of anger
amongst the packs that don’t allow their Wolves to intermingle and breed with
humans that the packs that do, have a higher alpha-cub rate.
"No one knows what happens on the mountain top." Isaac says quietly when he
asks in curiosity, Erica isn't allowed up the mountain due to her omega status.
"Just that a lot of expectant alpha-mates die up there."
Derek snarls before releasing Stiles. "You will prove yourself." It sounds less
like an order than a plea.
“Anything you want, my moon.” Stiles says, pressing their foreheads together
briefly.
The man from the Night Watch is further along in his pregnancy. His stomach
swollen enough his steps are strange to watch. The woman sacrificed to the
Wolves isn’t showing at all. Stiles is between both of them. His middle is big
enough a man or woman could guess at his condition if he wears his summer
clothes, but in his winter clothes they’d never suspect.
The old Wolves that continuously live in these mountains and serve the dead
lead them to a place surrounded by glass rock the Children make their blades
and sharp tools from. Not a mountain, he thinks, a volcano. When the sun leaves
the sky, his sister reigning in her full glory, the Wolves reveal what is to
happen.
"The direwolves are our brothers and sisters.” From the same path they came
from, three direwolves appear. “For every Alpha that is to be born, a direwolf
must die." A creaky old female Wolf says.
Stiles looks at her sharply and realizes before the other two what is about to
happen. The direwolves are monstrous. Stiles has seen Derek change often
enough, has wrapped his cold body around him often enough, has been mounted by
Derek in this form enough that he knows exactly how much power is in those
jaws, how sharp the teeth are, how quick they can be, to be afraid for his life
and his daughter’s.
He feels his lip curl in a snarl, much like his mate has done when challenged
for his position in the pack and for Stiles, and knows the black direwolf with
hulking shoulders and saliva dripping from her muzzle will be the one he kills
for his daughter to be born with her spirit.
The direwolf lowers her head in acknowledgement and attacks him. He can
distantly hear the other two scream but he is shoving his arm in the beast's
mouth to keep her fangs from his throat. He uses his other hand to punch the
direwolf in the head and feels his knuckles crack on her skull. The direwolf
lets go and snarls. Stiles can hear the sounds of the other alpha-mates and
direwolves snarling and sobbing, but his eyes remain on the direwolf.
Stiles doesn't bother to cry, to think of not living. He has his daughter. He
has Derek. He has his magic and the legacy of greenseers and Children blood in
his veins. The direwolf is merely a wolf. His daughter will be more than a
Wolf. She will be a queen Wolf and Child alike will fall to their knees to
follow. He will win.
He attacks the wolf and believes. He rips into her coarse fur with his nails,
burns her with hands and forces her to show him her throat so he can rip it out
with his human, blunt teeth. His daughter shifts in him, would howl if she
could in victory. He can feel the direwolf's spirit becoming one with his
daughter's, transforming her from a mere shifter into the Alpha he knows her to
be.
When he has the mind to look around, the man from the Night Watch is ripped
apart. The grey direwolf consuming him and his unborn child. The woman has her
throat torn out like the brown direwolf that did it could not be bothered with
the rest of her, like he believed the human unworthy of his stomach.
Stiles faces the elders that led him up and growls at them before howling, his
song quickly being joined by the howls of Derek, Boyd, Isaac, and all the
others, even those at the base of the mountains like Erica.
When he moves down the mountain with the elders, Derek rushes to meet him and
noses at him, like he doesn't know what to do with all the blood Stiles is
covered in. He ends up licking his mate clean of the blood that night, driving
cries from Stiles that the other packs who lost their alpha-mates and cubs can
surely hear, but maybe that's the point. To shove in their faces Derek has the
superior mate and how strong they will be, how strong his daughter will be.
The elders skin the direwolf's black pelt for his daughter and gives it to him
with secretive smiles. Derek touches the fur, questions in his eyes like he
thinks he knows what happens, but it is too absurd to believe without Stiles
telling him how it was. Stiles smiles as he touches the black pelt and keeps
the secrets of the alpha spirit to himself as hundreds, maybe thousands, of
others have. It will be his daughter’s fur while she's human skinned like
Stiles. He touches the fur Derek always wears with reverence now that he knows
what the alpha-mate that birthed him must have gone through to earn it for
Derek. It gives him more respect for the Pack. These people are feral and
vicious but so strong, earning every breath they breathe.
Before they come down from the mountains, the man from the adventurer tries to
make a run for it. His alpha and pack run him down and spread his flesh across
the mountain pass. Stiles can see his eye when they travel down. "His pack
punished him for his cowardice." Derek says when he realizes what has caught
Stiles' attention. "He shamed them."
"Fitting," Stiles says when a year ago, he would have recoiled in horror.
The Children are no strangers to war or violence, their swords of glass and
presence in Wolf territory a testament to that, but Stiles had been a more
gentle soul. His head constantly full of magic for rebirth and growth and
prayers to keep the godswood alive and content. Now he is a Wolf.
They visit his old people, the Children, in the summer. They trade pelts for
food. Relax amongst allies and take time to worship and teach the young about
allies and friends and the gods in the trees.
He sees his father and is embraced by him, Derek menacing behind him, he's
sure. Derek shadows him everywhere he goes, even when he goes to visit the
other greenseers in the godsgrove. He follows him when he speaks to Scott, who
tells Stiles of a princess he spied atop the Wall in guilty whispers.
He doesn't fit with these people that he left only a few months ago. They seem
soft and strange now. They shy from interactions with the Wolves, thinking them
beasts like their brothers and sisters the direwolves, expect for a select few.
There is another greenseer, Stiles' milk sibling, Lydia, that allows Jackson to
take her or Danny that eyes Isaac with quiet interest; although, neither Wolf
takes a mate under the Mother Moon's eye.
Stiles' is relieved to leave all the same in the middle of summer, the cub, his
daughter bruising his skin with her energy and his stomach large. Derek likes
seeing the bruises, her kicks that shift the skin, likes the proof before his
eyes of his cub's strength. And Stiles indulges him, “Anything you want, my
moon.”
The cub is born on the night of the harvest moon, large and orange.
No one could send Derek away and Stiles had laughed when the Wolves in charge
of the birth tried. Derek snarls and growls at his side the entire time,
fearful of losing his mate, perhaps, fearful of losing his cub. Stiles snarls
back. He and his daughter are strong. Stronger than any Wolf. They have the
blood of the Children in their veins.
"Her name is Rota." Stiles says when he sees his daughter's face for the first
time.
Derek bumps his head against Stiles' in agreement.
Their daughter will unite all the Wolves one day. She will be a storm that
breaks down the Wall and claim beyond the Wall for the Children and the Wolves
once again. The seven pointed star men that dared to drive them from the summer
will fall under her Pack. Soon, Rota will unleash the horror of winter upon the
soft and weak, allowing only the strong and cunning to rule the earth. But for
this night, she is in his arms, her hair black like the pelt Stiles earned for
her, and her barely open eyes the constant red of an alpha.
 Winter is coming.
End Notes
     Rota -- Old Norse, Valkyrie name meaning storm. I thought it apt.
  Works inspired by this one
      [podfic]_and_the_wild_things_roared_their_terrible_roar by hoars,
      reena_jenkins
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