Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/964812.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Allison_Argent/Isaac_Lahey/Scott_McCall,
      Lydia_Martin/Jackson_Whittemore
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski, Allison_Argent, Isaac
      Lahey, Scott_McCall, Alan_Deaton, Lydia_Martin, Jackson_Whittemore, Laura
      Hale, Cora_Hale, Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Roman_AU, Gladiator_AU, Roman!AU, Gladiator!AU, Gladiator!Derek,
      senator!stiles, ancient_roman_setting, Greek_and_Roman_Mythology_-
      Freeform, not_a_spartacus_au_though, me_and_cofie_are_just_messing
      around, we're_not_experts, please_forgive_us_our_trespasses, Werewolf
      Derek, Fighting, Fan_Comics, sexually_explicit, Ficlet
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-13 Updated: 2014-01-29 Chapters: 15/? Words: 16776
****** Apollo Rising ******
by cofie, Ember
Summary
     - - - Project Abandoned - - -
     When Derek is forced into the Gladiator's ring for the murder of his
     family, he feels that the Gods have betrayed him; but one senator's
     son sees that the man is capable of so much more than violence, and
     is perhaps the key to helping Stiles' gain power within the mighty
     empire.
     +++
     ((A fan comic and fanfic collaboration between Cofie and Ember))
Notes
     Hello, this is a collaborative work between Ember (known as Ember-To-
     Ash on tumblr) and Cofie (known as littlecoffiegirl on tumblr). Cofie
     does the comics and Ember does the writing bits. To clarify, this was
     originally made by Cofie and Ember just jumped in and added what she
     thought would happen next. Magic happened and they decided to just
     make a series. Cofie is the one who comes up with the plot, though
     the two do collaborate on a lot of things, and Ember is given free
     range to do what she likes within the writing sections.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
[gladiator!au]
[gladiator!au]
[gladiator!au]
[gladiator!au]
+++
"Who do you keep looking up to?" asked Isaac, his curls already peeking beneath
his helmet. Without seeing the youth in combat it would be hard to believe he
was a vicious fighter, already the victor of several battles. These displays of
violence did not help him fight the accusation that he had murdered his father
however, though Isaac still firmly held that he was innocent of such a claim.
"Nothing," Derek answered quietly, strapping his gauntlet tighter. As a formal
noble he was better suited for dressing himself in armor than most the men
around him, but that didn’t mean the scraps they received fit him any better.
Isaac peered upwards to the balcony full of nobles. “Lady Martin, I wonder?” He
chuckled dryly. “I served her at the Whittemore house. Not one to be bedding
gladiators at a whim, not if her gaze towards young Lord Jackson had anything
to say.” He glanced back to Derek, as if to confirm his suspicions.
"I know a venomous woman when I see one," was all Derek muttered back.
"Ah, so perhaps her companion?" Isaac looked once more. "Young Lord Stilinski,
I believe. Can’t quite remember his first name… Though I remember Lady Martin
calling him Stiles."
Obviously a shortening of his family name, Derek thought to himself, gazing up
once more to the youth. The boy could be no more than sixteen summers, with an
upturned nose and moles that dotted his face. The sun burned brilliantly behind
him, giving highlights to his closely cut hair, and turning his brown eyes
amber.
It set memories blazing in Derek’s mind, of a fortune teller with sad eyes who
told him of destiny and greatness. That he would one day meet a child of
Apollo, and give them the glory of an empire. He had, only a few months ago,
believed that to be Kate; Kate, with her golden locks and prideful eyes, who
had all the greatness of a God and all the terrible wrath of one.
He looked away from the sunlit boy and back to the arena. Today he wouldn’t
simply flash his wolf eyes and scare away a few animals. Today he would kill a
man, staining his hands ever deeper with the crimson of death, his blue eyes
shining with the innocents killed.
Today he was a gladiator, and today he would not die.
+++



So after the game…


+++
"My, my, my," said Lydia as she began to pluck the purple flowers from her hair
delicately, one by one. "That certainly is a way to capture Gladiator Hale’s
attention. Though I’m not sure what your father will say to throwing away your
birthday present to a mere fighter…"
Stiles waved a flippant hand. “That trinket? My father said that it would give
me Apollo’s grace. I’m sure Hale needs the Gods’ favor far more than I.”
"Oh? And shall the gladiator receive a young lord’s favor as well?" Lydia
scrunched her nose with a wicked smile. "A token of affection seems awfully
bold of even you, Stiles. You should have seen the look on Emperor Argent’s
face. The old man looked like he was about to pop a vein…" She offered Stiles
her hand.
"He would do his oh-so-loyal subjects quite the favor if he did." Stiles took
the offered hand, giving her a slight bow. "And why should he care who I take
into my bed chambers? I may pay for the pleasure of Hale’s company, same as any
other noble."
"Why Stiles, such brash words said in front of such a refined lady as myself,"
Lydia answered with a smirk as she stood. "With such talk as that you’ll only
double your father’s efforts for us to be betrothed, and for me to make a
proper lord of you."
Stiles kissed her hand and grinned up to her. “I believe we both know that
would never happen, should we be interested in wedding at all. Now, is not Lord
Jackson expecting to see you within this hour? Speaking of bed chambers, and
the dealings within them...”
Lydia tutted as she yanked her hand free, a pretend pout gracing her lips. “Why
Stiles, you know I am simply spending the night within Lady Allison’s
household.”
"Yes, and Lady Allison is simply spending the night within your household.
Accompanied by the faithful soldier Scott, there for her every whim." He gave a
cheeky wink. "Hopefully I’ll be having such a faithful soldier of my own soon."
+++
"The young lord seems to favor you," noted Isaac dryly, washing hot blood off
his chest. Derek had been glad that they had never been ordered to fight
against each other. The young man’s lithe body and quick moves gave him an
advantage to those of greater bulk.
Derek simply allowed the chain of the necklace to slip through his fingers as
he passed it from one hand to the other. It was gold and soft, and the pendent
was no larger than a coin, with the carving of a lute within it. Apollo’s
symbol.
Were the gods trying to tell him something?
"Will you be accepting his offer, should he try you for a night?" asked Isaac,
leaning cockily against the wall. "If he likes you enough he may buy you. Far
better to be a young noble’s plaything than risk your life for a crowd’s
amusement, if you ask me."
"And have not you had such offers?" asked Derek.
Isaac simply shrugged. “Old politicians all. No, it would take the princess
herself to woo me into a bed.” His eyes narrowed. “But you kept looking at the
lordling, didn’t you? Perhaps his bedchamber is exactly where you wish to be.”
Derek didn’t answer. He could not deny the truth that Lord Stiles’ bed seemed
very welcoming, whether the Gods led him to it or not.
***** Chapter 2 *****

+++
Things such as extravagant dinners were not a new experience to Derek, for he
was a former lord. He knew the taste of fine wine and the sound of sweet music,
though the private chamber that Lord Stilinski (“Stiles, just call me Stiles,”
the boy had said, over-bright) had brought Derek to was completely silent, per
the gladiator’s request. The feast laid out before them, suckling pig and fat
grapes draped upon bowls, was not something new to the man. The hunger in his
stomach however was, and he immediately set forth to eat his fill, not knowing
when his next meal was to come.
Lord Stilinski watched him with a barely constrained wonder, his amber eyes
flickering in the candlelight, his chin resting upon his hands. Almost as if he
was a boy with a new pet, feeding it for the first time. Derek didn’t take
kindly to the comparison.
"Will you not sup upon your own feast, my lord?" Derek asked, attempting to
mask his dislike of being so heavily watched. Even as a lord himself he had
been severely lacking in social graces, but he knew the folly of insulting his
host.
Lord Stilinski shrugged. “I have just come from my own meal.” He did, however,
take a grape and begin peeling the skin. “But I wish you to have your fill,
Derek.”
Derek clenched his fist, a protest to such familial terms catching on his lips.
But he kept himself silent. What else would the lordling call him? Hale? He had
long since been stripped of his family’s good name. Derek was the only title
offered to him now. He would just have to accept that.
Stiles took the grape and began to chew it thoughtfully, the juices glistening
on his lips. “You still have my token, I see.”
Derek looked down to where he had placed the necklace next to his plate. He
wasn’t sure why he had brought it, other than the fact that it would most
likely be stolen if he had kept them at the gladiator’s quarters. Not even
Isaac could be trusted to keep such a treasure. But wearing it had seemed
almost like a defeat, or a brand that he was now property of the young lord. So
he had simply kept it clenched in his fist.
Stiles peered down to the necklace on the table and moved his hand forward.
Derek nearly flinched back before the lord placed his pale, smooth fingers on
the necklace, just centimeters away from Derek’s hand, and looked up from long,
dark eyelashes. “I would like for you to wear it, my gladiator.”
Derek bit off a retort about cheeky boys with too much pride. No, it would not
do to anger his host. Especially one who held the promise of buying Derek’s way
out of the gladiator ring, and perhaps onwards to something else. Greatness,
perhaps. Revenge, more likely.
So instead he said, his voice darkly amused, “Such pretty trinkets seem far
better suited for you, my lord.”
"Hmm." Stiles eyes flashed in the candlelight, his easy smile turning to a
frown. "You think me weak, then?"
Derek shook his head. “No, I simply think you far more likely to receive the
Gods’ favor than I.”
Stiles leaned forward, his tunic riding down to expose more of his creamy white
chest. But still, his face held a look of fierce determination. “I need no
favors from the Gods to get what I want, Derek. Never forget that.”
And, for the first time that night, Derek grinned. “I never assumed otherwise,
my lord.”
+++

+++
Stiles fidgeted, his hips wiggling like an anxious puppy. “You’re not…” The
lordling bit his shiny lips, which had tasted of grapes, and stared up with
wide eyes. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”
Derek sighed. How was this his life? Perhaps, if he had only known such a
tempting boy existed, he would have been the one to win the honor of
deflowering him. He certainly would not have been dying in the ‘line of duty.’
But three years ago he had been busy with training and honor, and had no time
for such playful things.
And now, with only another day of killing at hand, all he had was time.
So he kissed Stiles again, this time gentler, allowing his tongue to lap
languidly inside that very pink mouth. He allowed the lordling to return the
kiss with fervor, moaning softly and trembling slightly. Derek could smell the
slightly acrid scent of fear, and it set his instincts on edge; for all the
boy’s bravo, it was his first time.
And for all that he was a gladiator, for all that he had no right, no honor to
deflower such a tempting boy… To think of another holding Stiles’ sent a rage
beneath his skin, and he knew that he would have Stiles’ as his tonight. Derek
slowly started to loosen Stiles’ tunic, undoing the wrappings in the middle and
sliding it off the boy’s shoulders. He closed his eyes and allowed their
foreheads to touch, just lightly. “Don’t be scared,” he said softly.
He could hear rather than see Stiles’ pout as he answered, “I am not.” The lord
wasn’t quite able to keep the tremble out of his voice.
Derek couldn’t keep a small smile from appearing. “I know you are. It’s fine.”
Stiles was quiet for a moment, and then whispered, “How do you…?”
The tremble of his heart. The tremor in his voice. The way his skin vibrated
just slightly, quivering underneath Derek’s searching hands. “That matters
not.”
Their next kiss held all the heat of the sun and all the ferocity of the wolf.
It was two desires colliding, a hungry want and a feverish need. Stiles clung
on desperately, too prideful to admit his fear, yet too young to go without it.
Derek knew fear all too well, and desperation too. He welcomed it like an old
friend, for he was about to receive his fill of what he so desperately wanted.
Needed.
The bed was soft, with silken sheets and bright embroidery. The firelight
glowed brightly against Stiles’ pale skin as Derek laid him gently down, skin
flushed pink as Derek prepared him with warmed oil, squirming with barely
constrained discomfort.
"Can you take me?" Derek whispered into Stiles’ ear, pushing his fingers
deeper.
"Ah… ah- yes," Stiles muttered back, his eyes closing in twisted ecstasy.
Derek huffed, lifting the lord’s legs upwards. He slipped into Stiles’ tight
heat slowly, his eyes closing at the feel of it. How the Gods’ blessings simply
paled compared to this sweet feeling. The greatest of pleasures was beneath
Derek now, and he knew that fate had given him a gift.
Stiles moaned without reserve as Derek began to move within him, his pink mouth
opened in pleasure as Derek took his sweet time. Oh, but Derek was truly
spoiling his young lord. Tonight was not the time to show how much he
desperately wished to ravish, to rut within his lover with the ferocity that
could only be given to a kin of wolves. No, tonight should hold the air of
sweet caresses and soft kisses, of light touches and whispered reassurances.

He allowed Stiles’ to cling to him desperately, to call out his name as if
Derek was a God himself. Stiles rubbed himself along Derek’s stomach, the
friction causing his breath to hitch, and Derek continued to gently thrust his
hips forward, a smooth motion he knew would send sparks within his lordling.
Stiles, sweaty and needy and flushed red against creamy skin, soon reached his
climax, too young and inexperienced to be able to keep himself from letting go
too soon. He cried out Derek’s name like a holy chant, desperate for the
release that Derek was oh so willing to give him. The gladiator cradled the
back of his lord’s head, allowing his fingers to sift through the short, silky
locks, before succumbing to the desire himself, the greatest of pleasures
taking hold of him as he marked his lover with a single bite.
+++
It wasn’t that Stiles was a wisp of a thing. He had height, he had muscle, it
was just- it was just he would rather be reading scrolls by the firelight than
in the courtyard swinging a sword, alright? And he didn’t tan like Derek, he
burned, and the only thing less attractive than parchment white skin was
crispy, flaky red. So if he spent more times indoors and in the shade, as did
the ladies of the court, well, he couldn’t help that either.
But Derek looked down upon Stiles like he was a beautiful thing, a precious gem
clasped between his hands. Calloused hands, thick and strong, pressing
themselves ever deeper within Stiles. Touching places that made his pulse race
and his breath come in gasps. He didn’t try to hold back his moans, because why
deny Derek what was obviously a pleasure? The gladiator may not enjoy music,
but the sounds of Stiles’ ecstasy seemed the sweetest ambrosia.
And when his faithful soldier entered him, when Stiles felt that hard heat
between his legs, he knew that he would become addicted to this feeling. He was
a lord, was he not? He could consume what he wished, and he wished to consume
Derek body and soul. Derek, with broad shoulders and hulking mass, warm skin
which slid so deliciously against Stiles’ own, calloused fingers with rubbed
against the boy’s back. Hands once covered in blood, now covered in oil and
sweat.
It was an odd feeling, not without its discomforts, having a man within him,
but Stiles’ could already feel the sensation of pleasure growing deep, like an
ember about to spark into flame. He had never been so intimate with another, so
closely connected, every point of contact building heat between them. His eyes
were closed in the sensation as he threw his head back, allowing the feeling to
build.
Derek, the good lover he was, was quick with his calming whispers. “You’re so
beautiful, so perfect,” the older man sighed. “You feel so good.”
Stiles could barely contain his smirk between ragged moans. Oh, what a fine
purchase he had made; a lover who was completely devoted to Stiles’ whims. A
soldier who would fight for Stiles’ honor, an extension of the lord himself. A
son of Romulus to give him power and pleasure in turn.
He cried Derek’s name as he felt his climax reach him, unable and not wanting
to hold back. This was what the gladiator was for, was it not? To give Stiles
the pleasure of viewing a spectacle on the battle field, and to give him the
sensation of bliss in his bed chambers. But the lord had already decided that
his faithful soldier was to fight no more on the Emperor’s whim. It would be by
Stiles’ command, and by Stiles’ command alone, that Derek would shed more
blood. More sweat.
He cried Derek’s name like the champion he was, Stiles’ champion forever more.
He felt Derek’s gentle hand pet the back of his hair, and he felt victory
growing within him. He would endear himself to this man, take pleasurable
nights from his gladiator, and use him to gain the glory of an empire.
***** Chapter 3 *****







+++
Isaac was not of the house of Lahey, because there was no house of Lahey. He
was a servant’s son, and a servant himself until his father’s murder. When the
blame had been laid upon his head he had denied it, begged and pleaded for the
justice that the courts had so often boasted of. But he had found none. He had
no gold to give, no bribes to hand out, and so he had been thrown within the
gladiator’s ring.
But Isaac was not weak. He had grown up fighting for scraps. He had been Lord
Jackson’s sparring partner since the brat was a child, and while Isaac was
never allowed to win, he always allowed himself to learn. Had wielded a blade
deftly in hopes of one day leaving his poor existence, for greatness untold.
And now he was wielding a sword against the only man to show him kindness since
he had been accused of his father’s murder.
"I don’t want to kill you, Derek, but I will," Isaac warned under his breath,
the hot sun beating down upon them both. "I did not fight all these months to
die now."
Derek said nothing, his brows furrowed in concentration as he took a fighting
stance.
What did the man want? Victory and a chance with the Emperor’s household? Lady
Argent was renowned for her beauty, but she was also infamous for her
ruthlessness. And she had, after all, accused Derek of his murders. But would
that not be the best position for revenge? By her side?
And then there was Stilinski. A beautiful boy with a quick mind, if Isaac
remembered the gossip right. Derek had spent a night with the lord, but had
refused to speak further of it. Was that Derek’s goal? To be the plaything of a
senator’s son? To spend his night warming a bed?
Isaac glanced up at the spectators, wondering what he wanted for himself.
Emperor Argent was not a kind ruler, and Isaac doubted he would be a kind
master. Lady Argent, quite frankly, scared him. But perhaps, within the Argent
household, Isaac would gain a chance at glory, a spot at the Gods’ table…
And perhaps a chance to see the Lady Allison again, came an unbidden thought at
the back of his mind. He clenched his sword and banished such thoughts. First,
he would try not to die.
+++
Derek leaped to the side to avoid Isaac’s quick blade to his legs. By Jove, the
lad was fast. Derek knew he was faster though, stronger. He had to contain the
wolf within him with such spectators, as any inhuman displays of strength would
be questioned. Though… He glanced up at Kate Argent, her smile as sharp as his
blade. Though he suspected some may already know of his family’s secret.
"Fight back!" shouted Isaac, his face terrible with rage.
So Derek did. Their locked blades clanged as they met, the metal scrapping
against each other as they pushed against one another. Derek pushed forward
with his shield, sweeping his sword forward as Isaac was forced back, drawing
blood against the youth’s arm.
Derek would not die, but he would not win. He had a destiny before him, a power
to be gained, and none would be found at the end of Lady Argent’s leash. But
the Emperor could easily demand for Derek to be handed over if the fight was
not to his liking. No, he had to show that Isaac was the stronger fighter, the
better prize to be won.
He knew that Isaac’s shield was coming, with enough force to knock him to the
ground, and yet he allowed it to come, falling onto his back. He saw Isaac’s
blade gleam in the sunlight as it flew downward, quick as Diane's arrow into
his chest. He did not resist. He did not struggle. He allowed the blood to
choke his lungs.
He looked up to see Isaac’s eyes cloudy with tears. Of course the youth would
be upset. After all, that move? The stance of Isaac’s feet, the grip on his
blade? Those were all things Derek had taught the boy himself. He couldn’t help
but smile at how strong Isaac had become. The last thing he remembered was
feeling the weight of Stiles’ pendant against his throat, before losing himself
to darkness.
+++
Oh, but did Stiles’ blood run cold as he saw his gladiator fall to the ground.
He wouldn’t believe it. Not when a blade ran through Derek’s chest, not when
his mouth became lax, his bloody body lying upon the pale sand. No, this was
Stiles’ champion, his soldier, his sword. He could not be dead. Stiles would
not allow it.
"Get me a healer!" he shouted to the servants surrounding them. He pointed to
the guards. "Get him off the field, now!”
The guards looked towards the Emperor, the old bastard smug and smiling. He
nodded graciously, allowing them to rush to Derek’s aid. It was obvious he
thought the gladiator dead, and was not displeased with the consequence.
Lady Argent, however, looked as furious as Stiles’ felt. It was obvious who was
the victor of this battle, and thus her prize. She looked towards Isaac with
thinly veiled contempt as he walked up to her, bowing low.
Stiles’ rushed to meet the guards as they brought Derek into the inner chambers
of the gladiator’s ring. He would not let this man die, no. Not this day, not
without Stiles’ permission. He would get the finest of healers, the most modern
of medicines, the favor of the highest Gods. Whatever it took.
+++
Derek opened his eyes to the sound of quiet sobbing. His entire body ached, the
taste of blood clotting his mouth. Glaringly hot pain emanated from his chest.
He clenched his fangs to keep from howling, dug his claws into the cold slab
beneath him. He would heal, but it was draining him, sucking away at his energy
like the deepest pit.
The sobbing stopped, and suddenly Stiles was looking down at him with wonder.
“You’re… you’re healing,” he said, eyes wide, voice awed. Pink was blossomed
along his glistening cheeks.
Shit. How was Derek going to explain this one? He tried to keep the blue from
bleeding into his eyes, but it was a losing battle. His wolf had to come out
for him to heal, and it was useless to stop it. Useless to fight back.
Stiles touched his face, lightly, almost with reverence. “You died. They
pronounced you dead, I was there. No heartbeat, no breath…” He bit his lips.
“Hades had you in his grasp, and yet now you breathe.” He traced his hand along
Derek’s chest. “Your skin was torn, but yet now it is healed… What matter of
man are you?”
Derek grasped the pendant, now splattered with blood. “A man with the Gods’
good grace, or did you forget?” He chuckled, wincing at how the movement dug
deep within his chest. He was not yet fully healed. “And why do you speak of
Hades, my Lord? Is not Pluto the God you should be naming?”
Stiles’ smile was weak. “My mother was a noble of Greece, I’ll have you know.
And she was the one who told me of the Gods. She said they have many names, and
many faces. She said they could be terrible and cruel, yet a man with their
favor would find the greatest of glory.”
Derek cupped Stiles’ hand, forgetting the blood and dirt which coated it. “And
I have found it, Lordling. Right within my gasp.”
His vision swam as darkness once more took him, Stiles’ amber eyes shining in
the firelight the last thing he saw, curiosity sparking within them.
+++

+++
Stiles sighed contentedly as Derek continued to lightly massage his shoulders.
The gladiator’s hands were strong and calloused, yet surprisingly gentle
against the young lord.
"Your neck looks naked without a pendant to grace it," said Derek lowly,
rubbing his fingers lightly along Stiles’ skin.
Sties shivered at the touch. “I have a good deal more pendants, if that is to
your liking,” he answered with a smirk.
Derek’s hands hesitated but a moment. “No… I much prefer it bare, when we two
are alone.” Before Stiles could question the seriousness of the man’s tone, he
continued, “But tell me of your household, my lord. My family did not mingle
within Rome’s walls often,” and began to once more knead Stiles’ shoulders.
Stiles glanced quickly upwards towards Derek’s pensive face before answering,
“The Stilinski family has long been entrusted with the safety of Rome, and for
generations we have lead her armies. My father is a celebrated Senator, though
perhaps not as wealthy as others. I suspect that’s because he does not take
kindly to bribes, as some in the senate do…”
Derek huffed. “I remember that the Lady Stilinski’s death was more mourned
within Rome than the Emperor’s wife, if gossip is anything to go by.”
"For once gossip proves true." Stiles’ voice was smug, though quiet. "My mother
Claudia was a true Roman, despite her Grecian ancestry. She was beloved by all
the city, and her funeral produced more tears than Orpheus’ lyre." His fists
clenched, her memory still tinged with the sadness of her parting.
Derek allowed a quiet moment to pass before asking, “And does your father know
of your recent purchase, my lord?”
Stiles ducked his head coyly. “Why, I see no reason why I shouldn’t have a
soldier to protect me, do you? Bed chambers are often the scenes of
assassination, or so I hear.” He laid his hand on the Derek’s lightly, glancing
upwards. “You will make sure I sleep well at night, won’t you?”
Derek nodded gravely. “It would be a dishonor to my name if I did any less.” He
slid his hands away slowly, making his way to one of the table’s other chairs,
easily sitting down.
Stiles eyed him curiously. “You’ll have to be a bit less graceful than that if
you want others to believe you are still wounded. Many saw your battle today,
and not all are so ready to believe in the Gods quite so quickly as I.” The
statement held an edge of sarcasm. Stiles didn’t trust in Derek’s story, not
completely. But he knew an advantage when he saw one, and Derek’s power,
wherever is stemmed from, was an advantage indeed.
Derek merely shrugged. “I will put on an act worthy of Bacchus himself, once
the proper audience has been prepared.” He took a sip of wine before adding,
“And speaking of audiences, is not Lady Martin usually in your attendance? Your
betrothed has been absent from your side all day.”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now, do not speak in such jealousy. My
betrothed is merely a friend, a foolish childhood love that quickly died. Her
family’s wealth simply wishes to have my name, that is all.”
"And you feel no attraction towards the woman? She is quite beautiful."
"Attraction aplenty, but I know a lost case when I see one. She has the
handsome Jackson cradled in her hands, and she likes it that way." Stiles
grumbled as he sorted his papers, "Between her and Allison, I’m not sure my
love life is all too worrying."
‘“Allison?” Derek asked, his tone suddenly hard. “As in the Lady Argent,
granddaughter of the emperor?”
Stiles looked up sharply. “Yes, Lady Allison and friend of this household. I
may not look kindly upon her family, but the lady is to be treated with honor,
is that understood?”
Obviously sensing a useless argument when he sensed one, Derek simply nodded.
"And if you are to live in my household, I suppose you should know what secrets
must be contained within it," Stiles continued, papers now left forgotten. "No
one must know of Lydia’s love of Jackson, and no one must know of Allison’s
love of Scott. Betray that trust and there will be dire consequences for us
both."
"Scott? Of what family?" Derek had never heard the name before.
Stiles rolled his eyes, glaring down at the papers before him. "Of no family
his father is willing to admit to. He’s the bastard son of a man I will not
name, and was raised with me like a brother. My father secured him a position
as a palace guard, and from there… well, it simply must not be spoken of, the
affection between an Argent and a bastard son." He leaned forward on the table
and rubbed his hair distractingly. "To be honest I have no notion how it shall
turn out, but I will simply support my friends the best I am able."
Derek nodded solemnly. “Sometimes that is all you can do. A support of a friend
is by no means a small gesture.”
Stiles smiled once more. “And shall I always have that from you, my gladiator?
The support of a friend?”
Derek leaned forward, his smile dangerous. “Better. You’ll have the support of
a soldier.”
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     ((This was a short one!))

+++
"Father!" Stiles cried out, rushing forward to embrace the man, laughing
openly. "Did you defeat the enemy in but a week? Last I heard you were expected
to be outside the city walls for a month."
"Peaceful means were thankfully found. Now let me have a look at you." Lord
Stilinski took his son’s shoulders in his hands, glancing up and down. "Well,
you’re in one piece, which is more than I expected. Though as for your
belongings…" He tapped Stiles’ chest. "Where is the pendant I gifted you?"
Stiles at least had the decency to blush. “Ah, well… about the pendant.” He
flashed a smile. “I thought it best for another.”
"Lady Martin?" his father inquired with a raised brow.
"Not precisely…"
Just at that moment, Derek, who had been standing a few feet away, stepped
forward. “That honor belongs to me, Lord Stilinski.”
"And who is making such a claim?" asked the lord, his eyes suddenly cast in
suspicion.
"A new soldier for the household!" Stiles exclaimed, his smile over-bright.
"And my personal protector, I’ve decided. Hopefully I am old enough to decide
my own protector?"
"Perhaps not old enough to forgo asking my permission, however. And avoiding
telling me his name does not help me think you a man worthy of such decision,"
Lord Stilnski added sternly.
Derek saluted. “Lord Stilinski, I am Derek, formerly of the Hale house.”
The lords gaze grew sharp. “The one who was found guilty of his family’s
murder?”
Derek hesitated at that, looking clearly lost with how to respond.
"Found guilty after Lady Argent’s claim," Stiles huffed, placing his hand on
Derek’s shoulder. "I can think no situation more grounded in an unfair ruling.
I will be claiming Derek’s good name back, once I have received the documents
of the case."
Derek seemed startled at the claim, looking at the hand on his shoulder with
surprise.
Lord Stilinski looked upon such intimate handling with suspicion. “I have heard
many rumors of you, Derek. Much violence, much anger, and not much good. Who am
I to entrust you with my son?”
"You know me as a man of violence, but that is a soldier’s work," Derek
countered, opening his hands. "You know me as a man of anger, which is true
when I am in a battle. Can you claim any other feeling, for a man fighting for
his life? And rumors are but that. Allow me to show my worth as a soldier at
your household, before you turn me away.”
The lord looked no less suspicious, but he nodded solemnly. “I will allow you
to do so, and only on your family’s good name. Should my son not prove your
innocence, or should you fail in your duties, the gladiator’s ring is not all
you should fear in consequence.” He stepped forward and gave a hard smile, his
voice growing low. “And though my son may seem quite friendly towards you,
never forget your place within my house. You will not touch my son, do I make
myself clear?”
"Too late for that," Stiles muttered under his breath, too quiet for his father
to hear.
Derek heard though, and it took all his will to suppress a smile. “As clear as
the springs of Fontus, my lord.”
***** Chapter 5 *****

+++
"Lord Stilinski, I find it hard to perform my duties with secrecy when you
continue to be so loud," Derek chastised, looking up from his position on his
knees.
Stiles, currently seated on his bed with his tunic rucked up to his armpits,
didn’t respond. He was too busy breathing hard, his eyes heavy lidded with
bliss. His erection was shiny with Derek’s spit, precum leaking from the head.
Derek took the time to sweep his tongue along Stiles’ slit, allowing his tongue
to warm the sensitive flesh before swallowing the cock whole. Stiles raised a
hand to bite his fist, his moans barely constrained. Derek pulled off with a
tut before lifting the boy’s tunic to his mouth with a grumbled, “Bite this, I
don’t want your father to ask why you have bloody knuckles.”
Stiles shot the man a glare, his nose upturned. “Just because my father’s in
the house doesn’t mean I won’t give you a piece- uhnnn!”
Derek smirked as he worked his oil slicked fingers deeper inside. “Save your
pretty words for afterwards, my lord.”
Stiles huffily bit into the offered piece of tunic, his glower showing just how
much he appreciated such comments. But all protests were lost in his eyes as
they begin to glaze over, Derek’s careful administrations of his fingers and
his skillful tongue turning his mind numb. Ah, now this was money well spent.
Derek pulled off once more with a final lick before making his way up Stiles’
body, kissing and biting his lord’s pale skin, giving special attention to each
mole that sprang in his vision. He stopped at Stiles’ hardened nipples, sucking
and biting each lightly in turn, all the while slicking his own cock, waiting
for Stiles’ to finally growl out in impatience before lifting up the boy’s
thighs and sliding into his impatient lover.
Stiles’ grinned in triumph at the feeling, his nails digging into the
gladiator’s back. He threw his head back at the feel of it, before dropping his
sweaty brow onto Derek’s shoulder. When the sounds of Derek’s harsh breathing
reached him he allowed the tunic to fall from his lips, feeling in control,
feeling powerful. Derek, who breathed easy in the midst of battle, sounded
ragged and broken above him now. Only Stiles’ could make this man sound so.
Stiles’ turned his head and nibbled on Derek’s earlobe, causing the man to
shiver violently, before whispering, “Why don’t you howl now?”
Derek shuddered to a stop at the words, and for a moment Stiles was confused.
Before the lord had the chance to inquire what was wrong, Derek grabbed a hold
of Stiles’ shoulders began to fuck up into Stiles’ with force, causing his
breath to come up short as the soldier stared into his eyes.
"If you want someone to howl, I’m more than happy to oblige," Derek whispered,
leaning to lip at Stiles’ neck. "But you’re going to regret it when your father
comes in."
"Derek!" Stiles barked out, only to cover his mouth once more. "Derek," he
muttered through his fingers, "not so rough, stop it!"
Derek, ever the faithful soldier, did slow down, but not without looking
straight into Stiles’ eyes and saying, “I am not a dog for you to command,
Lordling. I am your warrior, I am your blade, but I am not your pet.”

+++
Derek looked fiercely ahead, not willing to give in an inch. His eyes blazed
bright blue, shining out of the darkness. He would not submit. The moon filled
his veins and his head clouded with power.
"Derek… Derek, are you okay?"
Stiles’ voice pulled Derek back, and he felt his claws receding, his fangs
turning once more to blunt, human teeth. How had he let himself so far gone?
Was he really so weak, that the full moon could effect him so?
"I’m sorry, my lord, I did not mean-" Derek bit off his words, feeling foolish
and guilty. He glanced to the side, unable to meet Stiles’ teary eyes. "The
full moon, it sometimes- it sometimes plays with my head. I did not mean to-"
"To be so cruel?" Stiles took Derek’s chin in his hand, forcing their gazes to
connect, his eyes hard as flint. "Because, gladiator, I will not except such
things in my bed, much less my household. I am your lord, understand?"
"Yes…" Derek swept his head forward, kissing Stiles’ neck. "I’m sorry, my lord,
I’m sorry. I never meant to be so rough…" He began peppering kisses along
Stiles’ collarbones, his shoulders, nearly whining at his mate’s- his lord’s
discomfort.
Stiles calmed down, his muscles turning once more lax. He allowed for Derek’s
gentle intimacies for a few moments before asking, “Why did your eyes shine
blue?”
Derek froze in place.
"Is it.." Stiles hesitated for a moment, seeming to try to find the right
words. "Does it have something to do with why you healed so fast? Why the moon
made you act so? Why you returned that wolf’s howl…?"
Derek closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to his young lover’s chest. They
had known each less than a moon phase, and yet Stiles already knew too much.
Who was Derek to give up his family’s secret, to risk their good name? He was
not alone. He had sisters, an uncle, who he must protect. Even if the Gods had
thrown them together, could he truly trust Stiles with such things?
Stiles petted the back of Derek’s hair. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me
now. I demand your loyalty, and your obedience, but I will not demand your
secrets.” He kissed the top of Derek’s head. “Now finish your duty.”
Derek nodded and laid Stiles’ down upon the bed, kissing him gently and moving
within him at the sweetest pace he could find, making sure to give the lord
nothing but pleasures, whining softly, begging Stiles’ to forgive him, making
sure to produce the most harmonious of moans from his lover.
"Next time," Derek panted, rubbing Stiles’ cock as he began to arch his back,
"next time we can switch positions…"
And it was that sweet promise that made Stiles’ cry out, finding climax within
Derek’s calloused palm.
***** Chapter 6 *****
+++
Jackson looked pretty smug for a man who just had a slave at his crotch, though
that, if Stiles thought on it, was probably why he was so smug.
"Does your father know the manner which you treat your servants?" asked Stiles,
his brow twitching. He was loathe to remind himself that Lydia certainly did,
and had no trouble with the fact. Why Jackson deserved the love of such a
woman, well, only Aphrodite knew.
Jackson chuckled. “My father doesn’t care what I do with my slaves, Stiles.
He’s not quite so controlling as your own.” He leaned back. “You see, he trusts
me. Thinks me an adult who is capable of my own choices.”
"Ah…" Stiles smiled, his jaw still tense. "I just wonder what he would think of
some of your choices concerning the new temple to Mars, is all."
Jackson’s grin slowly faded, turning as stony as a statue... and just as
beautiful, though Stiles hated to think it. “I have no idea what you’re
referring to, Stilinski. The temple is going just as planned. It will be a
great addition to the empire.”
"And will your new summer home also be a great addition?" Stiles went to check
for dirt under his nails. "Not far from the temple itself, if rumors are
correct. And as for where you’re getting your material…"
"You have no proof of that," Jackson snarled.
"Oh? Don’t I? Do you think Lydia would risk her own neck to keep things from
me?" Stiles’ eyes were cold. "No, I think not. You are bribing men to take the
city’s marble for your own use, and yet even then some of it is slipping
through the cracks and making its way to the market. By this rate the Temple
will be nowhere completed on time."
Jackson stood, his chair knocked back. “As I said, you have no proof of your
accusations! And I will not sit in my own household and listen to such slander!
Leave at once, or I swear to Minerva I will strike you down myse-“
"Silence," came Derek’s cutting voice, though the man did not bother to stand.
He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Do not speak such words, unless you
are prepared to come to blows with me, boy."
Jackson eyed the sword, fear sparking within his eyes. He turned back to Stiles
and hissed, “This is how you handle things, Stilinski? Threaten my life to get
a quick answer? Bring a mindless killer to do a Senator’s work?”
"Derek would not kill you, Jackson." Stiles stood, smoothing is tunic calmly.
"At least not without my say so. Now, I am telling you to pay back for the
marble you have taken from the temple to the city. If not, I will have to have
a discussion with both Lydia’s parents about revoking your land contract. I
wonder how responsible your father will think you then? And your mother… I’ve
heard she is a powerful worshiper of the gods. Is that not why your house is
smothered with incense?"
Jackson’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth in silent fury before responding
coldly, “Fine. Fine, I will stop.” He pointed a threatening finger. “And you
are not to breath a word of my doings, understand?”
Stiles easy smile quickly turned to a haughty scowl. “Jackson, I don’t think
you quite get how this goes. I could easily have you arrested for this. I have
the witnesses, the testimonies, the paper work. I could crush your reputation
like a grape stomped for wine, and oh, I would enjoy it. And the reason I’m
not? Do you know?”
Jackson refused to answer.
Stiles scoffed. “Because now you owe me. Never forget what I have done today,
and never forget that it comes with a price. I need no soldier to threaten you
now.”
 
***** Chapter 7 *****
+++
Isaac didn’t even blink at the bustling city around them, all while Derek was
somewhat flabbergasted by it all. The various noises and smells were
irritating, and there were far too many people for his liking, but it was a
sight to behold. Still, he found himself much preferring Stiles’ estate outside
of the city, with plenty of room to breath.
"How are you faring, Derek?" asked Isaac, who wouldn’t stop fidgeting, not
daring to look into the man’s eyes.
Derek placed a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder, causing Isaac to start. His
voice was steady as he answered, “Fine. I harbor no ill will towards your
actions, Isaac. They wouldn’t have let us leave until they thought one of us
dead.”
Isaac’s eyes were hallow. “Yes, I know that to be the truth. But I still… I
still cannot believe you are alive.”
"The Gods saw fit to heal me, what can I say?" Derek waved a flippant hand. "I
am not one to question such things. Now tell me, how do you like your time
within Lady Argent’s household? Is she not who you are attending today?" Derek
silently noted that Isaac was not wearing armor, but rather a simple servant’s
tunic. Odd, for a man of his fighting prowess.
"Lady Argent saw fit to give me to her niece," Isaac admitted with a weak
smile. "You should have heard her words after I won. Apparently I’m not exactly
what the lady was looking for." He quirked a brow.
Derek returned with a raised brow of his own. “Ah. And how are you liking our
little empress to be?” There was no doubt within the city that the man who
wished to rule over Rome would have to wed the young lady to make it happen.
"Ah, she is… most accommodating," Isaac answered, looking confused, as if a
kindly mistress was the last thing he would expect the Fates to bequeath him.
Scott, who had been away talking to other guards, came upon them and slapped
Isaac’s back heartily, startling the boy. “No finer lady graces Rome’s walls!
She is as kind as she is brilliant, with a beauty so fair that I’m surprised
Venus herself has not cursed her out of jealousy!”
"You speak like a man in love," Isaac muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Of course, as any soldier of Rome is to love the Emperor’s grand daughter, the
chief of justice’s daughter, a true lady of the city," Scott rambled back,
chuckling nervously. "My words are no kinder than any man under her service."
Derek bit back a retort towards that, knowing that talk of servicing and being
under the Lady would not do for such a public setting. So instead he said, “And
may the Gods’ blessings always be upon her.”
"Here, here!" exclaimed Scott, beaming once more. "Derek, is it not? I have
heard of you from Stiles, but have not had the honor to meet you in person. I
am Scott, guard for the Lady Allison, though I’m sure you know that." He raised
a hand to shake.
Derek took it with only a little hesitation, surprised at such a warm welcome.
Did Scott not know he was a gladiator? No, Lady Allison had attended gladiator
events, and as her guard Scott would have accompanied her. But his words did
not ring false, and he smelled only of excitement, no fear or distrust
permeating the air.
"I’ve heard many things of you too," Derek admitted, shaking Scott’s hand.
"All good things, I would hope!"
Derek smiled. “Nothing but kind words from my Lord upon you, I can assure you
of that.”
"And how is your lord?" Isaac cut in, his smile mischievous. "Doing well, I
should hope. From what I’ve heard in his conversations with Scott-"
"Private conversations!" Scott cut in, glaring. "And to be honest,
conversations I’d rather not hear of my friend…"
"Perhaps this talk is best suited to a more private setting," Derek said, voice
low. He was no boy on the cusp of manhood so he did not blush, but still he
felt embarrassed. His private affairs had always been that, private. He was not
a man to boast or brag of victories in bed.
"Not that I have anything to add to such conversations," Isaac admitted,
shrugging.
Scott grinned and clasped a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “My friend, I
shall see to it personally that that will not be the case for very long!”
Isaa, despite all his bold words, was on the brink of manhood, and could not
contain his blush at such sentiments.
***** Chapter 8 *****
+++
Stiles’ snuggled up close to Derek, sweaty and sated, the silk sheets thrown
over their hips haphazardly. He couldn’t stop smiling, and though Derek would
like to think that a testimony of his sexual prowess he knew it was for another
reason all together.
"Celebratory sex is the best sex," Stiles decided, his cheek resting on Derek’s
chest. "And Jackson said my father didn’t trust me… shows what he knows!"
"I celebrate your victory as if it was my own," Derek commented dryly, the back
of his head resting on the palm of his hands and his eyes closed.
"Oh, no need to return my excitement with sass, Derek. This could mean big
things for our future!" Stiles ran an idle finger against the man’s stomach.
"Connections can be made, a reputation can be sealed. A seat in the senate will
be mine, and from there I will only gain power."
"I have no doubt." This time Derek was sincere, though he still couldn’t muster
much enthusiasm. He was tired after a hard night’s work. "And are you not
worried for your father’s safety?"
Stiles waved a flippant hand. “Oh, he’ll be fine. He’s a general, not a mere
foot soldier.”
Derek hesitated a moment before opening an eye. “Perhaps I could accompany him
to the battle, if that is your wish-“
"No!" Stiles shouted, suddenly sitting up. He hovered over Derek’s surprised
form, grabbing one of the man’s shoulders. "No, you absolutely cannot go into
battle! You are to stay here, with me, understand?"
"Yes, of course," Derek muttered, his eyes clouding with confusion. "Your
command is my law, Lordling. Have no fear of that."
Stiles looked away ashamed, his hands shaking. “I- I did not mean to shout.”
Derek sat up as well, slowly reaching out to rub his young lover’s arm. “Are
you alright?”
"Fine, fine, it’s just- it’s just overwhelming, so much responsibility handed
to me." Stiles rested his forehead on Derek’s shoulder. "Scott is always busy
now, and I just- I could not imagining you leaving me as well."
Derek had had no idea that the boy was so nervous of his new position, for the
lord had seemed all confidence and easy smiles when he had delivered the news.
But Derek supposed that most men had masks to wear, and Stiles was no
exception. He gathered the young man in his lap, kissing his neck softly.
"I promise," the soldier said gently. "I will never leave without your direct
order."
Stiles relaxed into his hold.
***** Chapter 9 *****
[gladiator!au]
[gladiator!au]
[gladiator!au]
+++
"Sti- My Lord!!" called out Derek, rushing after the boy, catching his arm. "My
Lord, you cannot leave the meeting!"
Stiles wrenched his arm away, refusing to meet Derek’s eyes, his face flushed
red. “H-How dare they say such things to me!” His voice quivered with rage, his
hands clenched into fists. “And you, how dare you try to stop me from leaving!”
Derek huffed and pulled Stiles towards an empty room, a small chamber where
councils would meet. He pushed his lord gently towards the wall, his hands
bracketing pale arms. He stared straight into Stiles’ face, though the young
man still refused to meet his eye, and Derek's voice was stern as he said,
“Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
Stiles finally faced him, his brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Don’t give them the satisfaction of making you leave," Derek continued, his
grip tight. "You believed in what you said, and for this time you are their
equal. You have much a right to speak of your cause as any of the rest of
them."
Stiles glowered, his face still flushed. “They have no respect for me! They
called me- they called me a boy…”
Derek released him, taking a step back, his cape swaying behind him. “Then
shall you prove them right? Shall your tuck your tail between your legs, run
off yelping back to your comfortable manor?”
Stiles strode forward, shoving his face towards Derek’s “Don’t speak to me in
such a way!”
"Then don’t act in such a way!" Derek barked back.
Stiles flinched back.
Derek sighed, rubbing his eyes. It would do neither of them good to have a
fight. “Look lordling, I believe in your intelligence more than any man. I
would die for the cause you supported. I am not your enemy. Have I not made
that clear?”
"Of course you have," Stiles agreed angrily, "but that still doesn’t give you
the right to speak to me in such a way!"
"You forget that I was once a man of family too. My words are not spoken from a
commoner’s experience, though even the lowest of slaves could see that I speak
the truth. Those men wished to push you to leave, and you’ve given them the
satisfaction of doing so. Can you not see the sense in that?"
"But if they do not respect me, how am I ever to accomplish anything? My task
will be as the boulder of Sisyphus, forever melting before I reach my goal!"
Derek sighed and took hold of his young lover’s face, dropping a sweet kiss on
stubborn, pink lips. “Then do as you did with me,” he whispered, staring into
heavy lidded eyes. “Show them the man you are. Make them respect you.”
+++
"A child has no say in matters of war," declared Lord Whittemore, as ever
arrogant as his son. "We have no time to explain such mechanics to a boy not
yet in his beard."
Which was particularly vexing to hear from a man with a smooth chin himself.
And no man wanted to see Stiles attempt facial hair. The first time he had
tried had been his last, and Lydia wouldn’t meet his gaze for a week without
breaking out into laughter.
"I assure you I have been trained by the very best," Stiles continued to argue.
"I was but a babe when my father spoke of the art of war, and have read
numerous texts-"
Whittemore slammed his fist. “Texts are nothing in the face of battle!”
"And you know so much about battle?" asked Deaton, as calm and collected as
ever. "Whittemore, I haven’t seen you raise a blade since our adolescence. You
have as much to boast of as the boy."
Lord Whittemore grew white with rage, stuttering in the back of his throat as a
retort failed to come to him.
"Now, now," said Lady Whittemore, her voice amused. She placed a calming hand
over her husband’s fist. "Stiles has always been clever. Allow the boy to talk.
Perhaps a new perspective is what we need for this long battle. Perhaps his
choices will show to be sound."
"He had choice aplenty with his guard," came another voice, lost within the
crowd.
A low murmur hummed throughout the room at such a statement.
Stiles opened his mouth only to have his words crack, the blood rushing to his
face.
"Derek Hale," came another voice, smooth and hard as steel, "is one of the
finest warriors I have trained."
Everyone turned to Lord Christopher Argent, head of the royal guard, Keeper of
Peace, and son of the Emperor. He was leaned back in his seat, his hands
crossed in front of him, his brow heavy.
"That does not dismiss his sentence," pointed out his wife, Lady Victoria. "Or
do you say your sister’s witness is not proof enough?"
Argent shrugged. “I only say that our laws banished him to the gladiator ring,
and the Gods saw fit to have him live. I only say that our laws allowed Stiles
to buy him, and so thus he is in the boy’s service. And I only say that I care
not for a man’s past, but for what path he allows the Fates to take him.”
Everyone was quiet now, listening intently, eyes curious.
"Now," continued Argent smoothly, "I would like to see what the boy has to say
of the battles to come. If he is ignorant, he shall prove it with his words,
not his youth."
+++
"If you are through with trying to ruin the mood," said Stiles sulkily, "then I
would like to put an offer upon the table, seeing as your advice actually did
me good today."
"What sort of offer, lordling?" Derek asked with an easy going smile. The pet
name was something that Stiles was adamant that he merely tolerated, but Derek
could smell the contentment it gave the young man. It seemed that in the end he
enjoyed such sentiments, just as much as Derek enjoyed the sense of power it
gave him.
"Well…" And now Stiles was all coyness, glancing up from beneath his dark
eyelashes, and his hands moved further down Derek’s body, rubbing against the
man’s hard cock tenting his loincloth. "I was thinking, for once, I could take
care of you…"
Derek eyes glazed over with what a pretty picture that would make. “Well, how
could I say no to a request from my lord?”
Stiles, completely naked because it was far easier to remove a toga than a suit
of armor (and Derek was not entirely convinced the lord didn’t prefer it that
way), grinned wickedly before sliding downwards until he faced Derek’s
erection. He pulled back the loincloth, allowing the cock to spring free, and
immediately took the opportunity to lick a long, hot stripe along its length.
Derek clenched his teeth and hissed with pleasure. It was the first time Stiles
had ever taken the initiative to do this, usually wanting to be given pleasure
rather than give it in return. It was very promising that he was now interested
in being a more active lover in their relationship. It opened far more
possibilities for both.
Stiles, a quick study if there ever was one, began to take the length of
Derek’s cock in his mouth and bob up and down shallowly. He seemed almost
surprised by its length and thickness, and more than once had to stop from
taking it too deeply, his eyebrows crinkling in frustration.
Derek would have loved to give instruction, but the sight of his lord eagerly
sucking his cock was too much to allow for much coherent thought. Still, he
managed to give some advice. “Tongue the tip, that’s where I’m most sensitive.”
Stiles, who had never known what excessive was, began to do so immediately with
such tantalizing kitten licks, a soft, pink tongue sticking out of such soft,
pink lips, that Derek was reduced to gruff moaning, his hand grabbing hold of
the back of Stiles’ head. But he did not push Stiles’ forward, as he wanted to
do, and his hips remained as steadfast as a soldier about to face battle. This
was all about Stiles learning what he could do to make Derek feel good. But
Derek felt it would be soon that Stiles would welcome a soft shove or a snap of
hips, if any of their other bedroom behavior was any indication.
Stiles began to rub Derek’s cock as he tongued the tip of it, and the movement
was so tantalizingly sweet that all it took was one glance upwards, the lord’s
brow sweaty and his breath ragged, to get Derek to come suddenly. To his
surprise Stiles did not pull away. He allowed his face to be covered in the
sticky substance, opening his mouth to the final spurt and licking his lips
afterwards.
Derek looked down to his naked lover, panting, sweat sheeting his skin, his
pink face covered in Derek’s white cum, and thought that the lord had never
looked more beautiful.
***** Chapter 10 *****







+++
"Allison, what happened? Where is Scott’s horse?" Stiles cried out, dismounting
from his own steed. He had only just found his friends after rushing through
the forest alone, taking no heed of Derek’s warning. He wasn’t going to sit
around while there was danger afoot.
Scott was leaning against the trunk of a tree and clutching his bloody side, a
wince making his jaw even more uneven. Allison was, as she was prone to be,
stoic in the face of danger, her teeth clenched and eyes hard. She was
currently ripping off a lengthy portion of her own tunic in order to make
wrappings for Scott.
"What happened?" Stiles rushed forward, taking in Scott’s wound- a bite. "No
boar did that!"
"It was a beast I had never seen before," Allison muttered as she began to wrap
Scott’s stomach tightly, causing the poor boy to grunt. "Huge, with red eyes,
almost intelligent. It went after me and Scott tried to fight it off." Her eyes
were fierce. "It’s lucky it only got one of my arrows for its insolence. Should
it dare face me again, I will leave with nothing short of its life." Never was
Stiles more reminded that Allison, for all her dimpled smiles and soft tones,
was a true daughter of Artemis, and grand daughter of the mighty Emperor
himself.
"Where is Derek?" Stiles asked, casting his gaze wildly about. "Where is my
soldier?"
Allison and Scott glanced at each other, their faces grim, before turning back
to Stiles.
"He saved us," Scott admitted, pointing behind them. "Last I saw he was in
battle with the beast-"
Not a word more was spoken before Stiles ran to his horse to mount, galloping
into the forest without a moment’s hesitation. He raced along the path, wishing
that he had the tracking skills that Allison had learned from her father. But
even he could see the horse tracks running along the forest floor, and soon
came upon the former scene of battle.
Derek was lying on the ground, panting. Bloody wounds lay across his skin like
a battle map, slowly knitting together and healing, and Stiles could almost
swear he saw bone along the man’s ribs. The soldier’s eyes were once more blue,
bright blue, shining like a god or a beast, Stiles did not know. But that
Stiles had already seen, in another time, in another place. Those aspects of
Derek’s appearance had not given him pause.
Within Derek’s mouth was a set of terrible fangs, and protruding from each
finger was a yellowed, sharp claw. His brow was malformed, protruding, and hair
covered the sides of his face in great tufts. There was no getting around to
what Derek looked like.
A monster.
+++
+++
"I can’t just leave Allison!” Scott argued, his hands waving madly. “She’s in
more danger than ever, I can’t leave her now!”
"You’re no use to her dead," Derek growled out before Stiles could even open
his mouth. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, wondering why he was
the one who had to deal with bratty newly turned werewolves. "And trust me, the
moment the Argents find out what you are? You’re dead."
"I don’t even know if I will turn into a wolf beast! Just because my bite
healed a bit quickly-"
"Scott," Stiles reasoned, his voice stern, "it healed overnight. And you’ve
already had other symptoms, remember? Enhanced hearing, strange vision-"
"So what? That means I’m a monster?" Scott’s breaths were becoming labored. "I
can’t be with her again? Just because some creature cursed me?" He began to
transform, his brow furrowing, his fangs growing, his eyes glowing bright
yellow. "Just because I protected what I love most in this world?!"
Derek snarled as he surged forward, allowing himself to shift, pushing Scott up
against the wall. “Look at yourself!” he bellowed, his face terrible with rage.
“Look at your face!”
Scott trembled as he turned his gaze towards the looking glass hung on the
wall. There was no denying what was before him. Stiles stood there, eyes wide
and face ashen, as he took in the sight of their monstrous forms.
"And it won’t only be anger that triggers it," Derek warned, letting go of
Scott and walking backwards. "The moon will fill you with such rage and want
that you won’t even know yourself. If you don’t come with me, I can’t tell who
you might hurt. Who you might kill."
"But you can learn to control it!" Stiles walked forward, hesitating before his
friend. "Derek said that there’s a way to control it, to become stronger from
it. You just have to trust him to teach you."
Perhaps, Derek couldn’t help but think, Scott should be sent to Laura. She was
always a leader, an alpha in the making. She could train him far better than
he. But no, he would not risk her and Cora’s safety. He dared not give the
Argents any reason to visit the only family he had left. He didn’t know what
they would do, given the opportunity…
"How long?" Scott asked, glaring down at his claws. "How long before I can
control this?"
Derek shrugged, ignoring Stiles worried look. “I don’t know. I’ve only ever
heard of the Bite from legends. It’s different from us who were born of the
wolf. You’ll just have to have patience and see.”
"And she’ll be safe from me? You’ll keep me away from her, when I’m like this?"
Derek nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Stiles smile was over bright as he added, “And hey, I’ll be there too. I’m sure
I can grab a leash or something…”
Both Derek and Scott groaned at that.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

+++
When Lady Reyes came it was with fanfare deserving of the amazon she must truly
be, for no mere woman could have that sharp of a smile and such a blazing heat
in her eyes. If Allison was Artemis then this woman was Athena, looking like
she would be at home at the battlefield, blood streaked across her white skin,
blonde curls caked in mud, and still a beauty. Her lips were stained crimson,
hopefully with paints rather than the blood of her enemies.
Stiles bowed graciously. “Lady Reyes, welcome to my household,” he told her,
humble as can be. “Please, make yourself welcome.”
Lady Reyes’ eyes widened at him, but her smirk did not falter. “My, I never
knew the young lord was so gracious. Your father warned me you would be a
little brat.”
Stiles eyebrow twitched at the teasing, but he only replied, “Do you wish to
join me for dinner? Or would you like to make yourself acquainted with your
room? I can have something brought up.”
She waved a hand. “I’m hungry enough for a legion. Take me to the feast!”
Stiles was used to femme fatals of all forms, so he simply nodded and led her
to the dining chambers, allowing her to sit at his side at the head of the
table. Platters had already been prepared, and the room was empty but for the
two of them, the servants asked to wait outside. Before Stiles could offer
anything, Derek and Scott entered the room.
Suddenly Lady Reyes shoulders were stiff, though her look merely held
curiosity. “I did not know you employed those of my kind, young lord.”
Stiles wrinkled his brow; though Derek’s tattoo spoke of northern heritage, he
had never known Scott to have a drop of northern blood. That was, of course,
until Erica’s eyes flashed the ruby red of her lips, and then suddenly Stiles
understood. Derek had been teaching him and Scott the ways of wolves, and red
eyes showed the signs of the most powerful among them; alphas.
Derek’s frown tightened, and his eyes flashed blue in challenge. Scott, sensing
the tension in his comrade, changed his own gaze to bright yellow. Stiles stood
up and glared at the both of them.
"No challenging household guests!" he reprimanded, ignoring his growing panic
that he now was hosting three werewolves. "Lady Reyes is under my family’s
protection, and I won’t sully my father’s good name by being rude to her."
Lady Reyes herself gave a tinkling laugh. “My, you truly have nerve, don’t you
young lord?” She relaxed into her seat, like a taunt rope being let go, and
addressed Derek and Scott. “Have no fear, pups. Senator Stilinski is a friend
of my people, and I will not harm those within his house.”
Derek walked slowly forward to take a seat, Scott hesitatingly following his
lead. The man still did not look at ease, however. “I knew that we had kin in
the north, but none by the name of Reyes.”
"My mother gave me her power, but not her family name," she confessed easily.
"My alpha status also comes from her."
"I’m sorry for you loss," Derek muttered, bowing his head.
Stiles shot Scott a look, only to be met by a shrug. Apparently alpha status
could only be given by death? Derek had so much more to tell them.
"And I am sorry for the loss of your clan," Lady Reyes replied with a solemn
nod of her own. "I must make a point to visit the others of your family while I
am here. Perhaps, in a time of peace in the North, they may wish to join with
our clan."
Stiles felt his chest clutch, and quickly looked to Derek, the man’s face
impassive. His gladiator wouldn’t leave, would he? No, not Stiles’ sword and
shield. But to ask Derek to not reunite with the only family he had left… no,
Stiles would not be so cruel.
Derek nodded. “Perhaps. But that is their decision, and not one I will take
part of, should they choose to leave. The gods have plans for me in Rome.”
Stiles breathed out softly in relief.
Lady Reyes raised a brow. “I see. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been
dying to eat.” She began to pluck food onto her plate, not caring for etiquette
or procedure. “And while I am here I am your comrade, not your lady. Call me
Erica.”
Chapter End Notes
     All caught up with Tumblr! Cofie is having computer troubles atm, but
     she is gearing up for the next update! Expect it, well sometime ^^
     I'll write as soon as she's ready!
***** Chapter 12 *****
+++
"Are you sure of this?" whispered Derek from his steed. He knew that Erica,
despite being further back in the party, would still be able to hear though his
words were directed to Stiles. Still, there had not been a moment to spare
before the lord had demanded a travel party to be made up.
"Were you not the one to suggest the Boyd family?" asked Stiles with a raised
brow from his own horse. "I have heard of their loyalty, surely, but I am not
the one who suggested that they keep Erica."
Derek shook his head. “I have no doubts to their loyalty. There is a reason the
empire trusts them with its commerce. And it is true that their household is
further within the country, hidden away from many. Not only that, they employ a
large number of soldiers, but… I do not know if they will accept Erica into
their fold.”
"Do they know about…?" Stiles trailed off, shifting his eyes to the men near
them. They should be out of hearing range, but obviously Stiles was not about
to speak aloud of such things as werewolves.
"No. Our families were allies, but not that close." Derek shrugged. "I have no
doubt that Erica can keep her secret safe, but for all of that she is not a
true citizen of Rome. Her tribe is an ally, but because of Kali they have been
severely decimated. I’m not sure if the emperor would sign a direct order for
the Boyds to protect Erica."
"My father would," Stiles decided without hesitation. "And as a senator, I am
able to speak on my father’s behalf."
"But not without the senate’s approval," Derek warned. "Your father holds
enough respect that he may be able to ask the Boyds this favor, but you will
have more trouble."
"Well we shall see to that when we get there," Stiles said stubbornly, his jaw
clenching in annoyance. His eyes faltered though, glancing downwards. "Are you
not worried for yourself and Scott though? Kali may request you to join her
pack as well."
Derek snorted. “She only cares for alphas, and females at that. Her pack mainly
consists of those who are both. Erica told me that she was very upset when her
mother refused to join. I do not know what lengths Kali will go to get Erica.”
"Well let us hope that the Boyds will listen to reason then." Stiles glanced
back to Erica and Scott, riding side by side and murmuring quietly to each
other. "I told my father I would protect her, and I will do everything within
my power to keep that promise. Kali nor Jennifer will keep me from it."
"Of that I have little doubt, Lordling."
+++
The Boyds were an impressive family who showed little emotion. They took their
position as the head of commerce seriously, and their prestige was known
throughout Rome. Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little daunted as he stood in
their doorway, an on-the-run Northern princess at his side.
"So you are asking us to take her in?" asked Lord Boyd, the master of the
household. His dry voice betrayed no emotion.
"For the good of Rome’s allies," answered Stiles, trying to keep his voice
proud and steady. "My father has asked towards her absolute protection. It’s in
his name I ask you this favor."
"And Stilinski's soldiers cannot protect her?" asked Lady Boyd with a frown of
fierce disapproval, standing by her husband’s side. "We have our own lot to
protect."
"Please, if you would be hear me out." Stiles spread open his hands. "She has
already been discovered on my lands, and her position there is known. Here she
may be able to take solitude. We came with but my most trusted of men, riding
all day to your household. Please, at least consider my offer for the night!"
"Father," said the young Lord Boyd, his age close to Stiles’ own, "they have
been journeying all day. We could at least offer him to stay the night, now
that the sun is so low."
Stiles sent the young Boyd a grateful smile, which was not returned.
Lord Boyd nodded firmly. “I will allow my son’s request, Stilinski, and sleep
upon this matter. Tomorrow I will tell you my decision.”
"Thank you." It was Erica who spoke, and her smile was soft. "My people will
not forget you, if you do offer me safety."
Lady Boyd gestured her servants forward. “Take Lady Reyes and Lord Stilinski to
our guest chambers. His soldiers may sleep with our own.”
"If you will, I must speak to my guard." Stiles gestured towards Derek. "We
must discuss tomorrow’s journey."
Lady Boyd nodded. “Send for a servant when you are done, and he will be lead to
the barracks.”
+++
***** Chapter 13 *****

 +++
"Lady Hale," Stiles said with a slight bow, befitting one of his own station.
Her smile was full of easy grace. “My, I do know that it is not every day that
one talks to ghosts.”
Stiles found himself smiling back. All of Rome thought both of Derek’s sisters
to be dead, though Derek had confided in Stiles that they were simply at their
uncle’s estate, hiding from the eyes of the emperor. The family resemblance
between the three beautiful Hales was undeniable, though both Laura's and
Cora’s hair was lighter.
"But on to more pressing issues," Laura continued, walking towards the
fireplace with her hands clasped behind her, staring into the flames with hard
eyes. "It seems that our dear uncle has gotten himself into alpha status, and
with that a madness of power." She turned towards them, the shadows of the dark
room casting her face in golden tones. "He has made it his life mission to kill
the Argents."
Derek’s mouth went slack in horror. “But… he surely cannot be so foolish! A
lone alpha against Rome’s nobility? And how did he even come across such
power?”
"I do not know…" Laura’s eyes cast downward, her sadness unmistakable to even
Stiles’ casual observation.
"You must tell him," cut in Cora, her fists clenched. "You must tell Derek the
truth, Laura."
"What truth?" Derek stared between his sisters, his brow crinkling. "Laura, of
what does Cora speak?"
Suddenly Stiles felt very out of place in such an intimate setting, and almost
excused himself to leave. But no, Derek was his in more than contract. He could
not miss the opportunity to be a part of the soldier’s life.
Laura turned back to the fire. “He tried to kill me and take my alpha status.”
Derek’s growl was immediate and fierce. “His life would have paid forfeit, had
he succeeded in such a task.”
Stiles had no doubt in Derek’s words.
"We’ve been in hiding since the incident, staying with friends of our cause,"
Cora continued, her hand resting lightly on her brother’s shoulder. "We have
even found a Senator to support us. I’m sure you have heard news of it?"
Derek nodded. “The Children of Romulus. I see that the threat of the North is
upon us, but I do not know why you two are chasing such legends, at least in
the eyes of the Roman people.”
Stiles knew that few citizens regarded the Romulus soldiers who battled against
the North as truth, most saying it was glorified accounts of a much simpler
battle turned to bloodshed. Only those who knew of werewolves held the truth of
it, and those were precious few. Derek still had not told Stiles who else knew
of such secrets.
"Legends are created for a reason," Laura said mildly, her back still turned.
"Our ancestor died for our citizenship. If we were to recreate such a
spectacle, well, all of Rome would be indebted to us." Her hands tightened.
"And there would be nothing the emperor could say to not give our family full
honors for the victory, and honors to our cousins who join us."
"Pardon me," said Stiles, pausing as Laura turned to gaze upon him. Her eyes
held a majesty that no title could give her, and it filled him with awe to be
in such a presence. "Pardon me," he started once more, "but why are you and
your sister claiming to be dead, only to reveal yourselves in battle?"
Her smile was small but genuine. “What a smart one you have found yourself,
Derek,” she murmured before answering. “My family has died at the hands of the
Argents, so legend is all we may have left to protect us. To kill a hero would
be foolish, but to kill a weapon? Gerard would never consider it. If we prove
ourselves the only defense against the North, we prove that we are worthy
enough to live. And, should I come out of hiding, that is not the only thing
which I will prove…” She looked towards Derek.
Stiles glanced between them. “Derek? What does she mean?”
Derek stared back at his sister somberly. “She means that her being alive would
clear me of my charges. Kate claimed I murdered my family to inherit their
fortune, but I knew that Laura and Cora would be out. Since Laura would inherit
the estate, Kate’s argument has too great a flaw to hold even in the most
unjust court.”
Stiles felt his veins run cold at the thought. Yes, Derek would receive his
name, his guilt would be cleared, but at a great cost to Stiles... even though
he had promised his father so long ago to do just that. Derek would be a noble,
and as such he would be Stiles equal. No longer a mere soldier, a mere servant.
No longer someone Stiles could keep in his bed, least he insult the Martins as
Lydia’s fiancee. Society would dictate that their love affair must come to an
end, that they both marry ladies of standing and continue their household
names.
"Oh," was all that Stiles said, refusing to look Derek in the eye. He knew that
werewolves could hear an untruth within the ticking of a heart, and did not
trust himself not to lie.
 +++
 +++
"But before that, will you allow me to speak to my brother alone, Lord
Stilinski?" Laura asked with another gentle smile.
"Ah- of course…" Stiles looked between the two siblings, obviously curious.
"Shall I just leave then?"
"If you would escort Cora to your guest chambers?" Laura asked.
"What? But Laura!" Cora began to protest.
Laura held up a silencing hand, her smile turning hard and her eyes flashing
red. “Do not fight me on this, Cora.”
With a huff befitting a Hale, Cora allowed Stiles to walk her out of the room,
making sure to glare back at her alpha and sister before stalking out of the
entryway.
Derek hadn’t taken his eyes off Laura since her request. “What do you need to
speak to me that Sti- Lord Stilinski could not hear?”
Laura sighed wearily. “Did you expect me to not to notice how your scents are
all over each other?”
Derek stiffened. “Of all people, I would never expect you to judge me on my bed
partners, Laura.” There was no use denying it. Laura would discover any lie he
gave her.
"I am not judging, merely worried," she explained, stepping forward with a look
of concern. "Do you truly expect this arrangement to last?"
"There is no dishonor in being a servant," Derek retorted with a clenched jaw.
"I am a soldier of Rome, same as before. Simply because another man is my
master under the law-"
"And what about not under the law?" Laura raised a brow as she walked forward a
few more feet, stopping close to her brother, gently clasping his necklace’s
pendant in her hand. "No longer wearing the triskelion of our ancestors,
Derek?"
He scowled down at her. “It is burned upon my back.”
"Yes, but this… Apollo’s symbol, is it not? A gift from your lord, perhaps?"
She looked upwards, her gaze as steely as Derek’s blade. "Do not think I have
forgotten the prophecy you were given so long ago."
He stepped backwards and began pacing the room, casting agitated glances at his
sister. “What is it to you what I wear? What I am? Who I bed?” He said the last
word with disdain. “I am my own man, Laura. You may be my alpha, but you are
not-“
"I am your sister." Laura said this with all the ferocity of a shout, despite
keeping her voice leveled. "And I love you enough to remind you of your
position. I cannot reclaim our family’s glory without cleansing your name, and
when you are once more Lord Hale, there shall be no place in our society for
your current interactions with the young Lord Stilinski." Her eyes grew
suddenly sad. "For all that he seems sweet, and for all that he has been loyal
to our secret… And for all that, despite how you dance around it, you may be
growing to love him."
Derek fled the room with angry footsteps, not daring to look back.
***** Chapter 14 *****
 
+++
Stiles was silent the entire way back to his household, and though Derek was
usually not one to fret he could not help but worry after his Lordling. He had
known that the bond between the Stilinski father and son was strong, their
connection ever tightening with the death of Lady Stilinski, or so Stiles had
whispered in their more intimate moments, lying in each others arms in bed. The
boy’s earlier words echoed in Derek’s mind.
You should have gone with him.
But Derek was a soldier, a slave, and he did not dare speak of such things
until they arrived at the manor, until the two of them were alone in Stiles’
study, the boy rushing to his desk and pulling out maps to spread open.
"There was no shame, asking me to stay," Derek began, his cloak still on his
shoulders.
Stiles looked sharply upwards but for a moment, his defiant scowl showing
obvious disbelief in Derek’s words.
"It’s true," Derek continued, coming up to the desk and glancing down out the
map. The Northern provinces… "Your father would not have allowed it, in any
case. He would have wanted me here, protecting you."
Stiles refused to look up now, his eyes scanning the map in quick darts, his
mouth still set in a mulish frown.
"Lordling… Stiles, please." Derek reached his hand forward, cupping Stiles’
chin and forcing him to look up. There were still tears glistening in the
corner of those amber eyes. "Talk to me," Derek pleaded, hating this angry
silence most of all.
Stiles was quiet for yet a few more moments, his gaze cast away from Derek’s
face, before quietly saying, “Within reason I know that you would not have
saved my father. The chances of you being near him at exactly the right time,
the secrecy you must maintain which holds back the force necessary to defeat
such overwhelming odds…” He looked up at Derek again, his chin quivering. “But
still, I cannot help but blame myself. Surely you must understand that.”
Derek released Stiles then, taking a step back as if struck, clenching his hand
to his chest. “Of course I do. You know this.”
For in those whispered conferences he had also learned to trust Stiles with
such secrets. Knowledge of Kate’s seduction, and ultimately her betrayal.
Indeed, there seemed to be little unknown between them now.
"I’m not going to cry about my own cowardice!" Stiles rubbed his eyes with
angry motions. "I’m going to save my father, or recover his body for burial
rights. Either way he will return to Rome, if I have to drag his corpse
myself!"
Derek’s eyes widened. “You’re not seriously considering going after him?” He
felt himself getting angry now. “You’ll be a babe amidst a pack of wolves! You
have no training, no knowledge of the battle field. You’ll be killed within a
day!”
Stiles’ look as he regarded Derek was filled with a haughtiness that was going
to get him killed, his cheeks still red and tear stained. “I am no babe, Derek.
I am a Lord of Rome, and I am a force to be reckoned with. Never forget that.”
But all Derek could think of now was how fragile Stiles’ soft skin was, how
easily bruised, how easily cut. His bones would be so slow to mend if broken,
his flesh would scar. How easy would it be for Stiles to die? Far too easy for
Derek to let the young lord tempt fate.
Derek stood there idly as Stiles scrambled to collect maps, the man at a loss
of what to say. He could not command his lord in any sense of the word.
Refusing to attend to Stiles on his journey was not an option, for if there was
one sliver of hope that the boy would end the journey alive, it was in Derek’s
abilities. What was he to do?
Just then Scott rushed through the door, running to his friend, embracing him
immediately. It was obvious the soldier had heard the news.
"I’m so sorry," Scott murmured, and then released Stiles’, his hands still
clasped on the lord’s arms. "I’m sure he’s okay, Stiles. He’s probably a
prisoner of war, he’s far too important to merely kill. I’m sure we’ll hear of
his ransom soon."
"I’m not taking that chance," Stiles declared, shrugging out of his friend’s
gasp to continue his packing. "I’m going to find my father, and I’m leaving
tonight."
With raise brow, Scott turned to Derek who merely shrugged.
"Surely you cannot mean this," Scott replied, his tone calm and reasonable.
"The Emperor would never allow it."
"Damn the Emperor!" Stiles slammed a tomb onto his desk, his face flushing with
anger. "I will leave, by his will or no. I have my own soldiers, my own funds.
He cannot hold me from leaving!"
Scott showed his palms in a calming gesture. “Yes, but be reasonable here,
Stiles. You could sully your family name in such defiance. And have you not
your father’s responsibilities in the senate?”
Stiles was deflating, his armor of anger being chipped piece by piece by his
friend’s logic. Still, he answered, “With my father’s return I will receive a
hero’s welcome. And the senate seats are filled with enough men. They will
continue without me.”
Scott took a step forward, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Are you sure of
that?” When Stiles didn’t answer, Scott continued, “And what of your father’s
wishes? Would he want you to leave, to almost certain death?”
"My father would do the same for me!"
"Yes, but would you wish him too?" Again, no answer from the lord. "Remember
when, but a few years ago, I claimed I would find my father and kill him for
what he did to my family? Do you remember what you said?"
For the first time that night, Stiles smiled, though it was weak. “I said it
was better to live your life so greatly that he would feel sorrow that he had
let go of such a son.”
"Yes, and probably saved me from the gladiator’s ring." Here Scott gave Derek
an apologetic smile, as if to say there was no shame in that, and Derek simply
returned it with a nod of understanding, wishing Scott to continue whatever in
the Underworld he was doing to calm Stiles down. "Your father would rather you
do your best here, within Rome, within your power. Imagine if he isransomed,
and returns to your funeral. Do you think he would last much longer without
you?”
Stiles looked close to tears again, his fists clenched. “But to sit here, to do
nothing…”
"You won’t be doing nothing," Scott argued, his tone leaving no room for
argument. "Our armies are losing, and we need strategists to lead our movements
more than ever. The tide of battle depends on the senate’s actions, more than
ever now."
Stiles huffed, but Derek could tell he had been persuaded. “I suppose you speak
true. I will not search for my father, not tonight at least…” He gave a shaky
laugh, sinking uneasily down into his chair. “Just… Can I have a moment alone
now, Scott? I really just want to be alone.”
Scott, still looking concerned, nodded softly. “Of course.” Once more he
clasped his friend’s shoulder. “Do not hesitate to call for me, no matter what
hour of the night.”
Stiles placed his hand atop Scott’s, his smile weak. “Thank you, my friend. I
will.”
As Scott walked out of the room Derek turned to leave as well, but stopped when
Stiles said, “Not you, Derek.”
Derek looked back at the young lord’s slight frame, hidden in shadows as Helios
sank his chariot into the horizon. The boy looked so young sitting there, so
broken. Derek’s heart lurched at the sight.
"I’d rather not have you leave," Stiles admitted, his voice small.
Derek was powerless to do anything but obey.
+++
Stiles mind had hummed with a dangerous frenzy as soon as he had heard of his
father’s fate. The only thing that had kept him from breaking down completely,
the only way he could hold through his anguish with mere angry tears, had
simply been his conviction that he was going to find him. He was going to find
his father and bring him home, and that one thought, that one pledge, had kept
him together for these past hours.
But now… now he did not have that to hold onto. His world was collapsing around
him. A dark haze was cast over his vision, and he felt his breaths turn shaky,
his lungs constrict, and he couldn’t seem to get air past his throats, choking
on the very idea of his father’s death.
"Stiles?" Came a muffled voice from besides him, a worried hand gasping his
shoulder. "Stiles, are you okay?"
He wanted to speak, but the words stuck in his throat like a poisonous barb.
His lips moved but no sound was produced, and he moved his teary gaze to Derek,
the man looking panicked. Stiles hands were shaking, and he spread them
forward, imploring Derek to do something, to help him get over this.
Those shaking hands were clasped in strong ones, large ones, calloused but not
scarred, tanned by the warm sun. Hands which had touched him so gently, so
often, before. Derek’s hands, clasped tightly to Stiles’ as he stared into the
lord’s eyes.
"What am I suppose to do?" asked Derek, looking ready to cry himself. "Can you
breath?"
Stiles shook his head no, his chest constricting as he fought for control.
Derek slowly released Stiles’ hands, and gently moved them to cup his lover’s
face, his thumbs rubbing against Stiles’ pale neck. “Calm yourself, Stiles.
Your father is alive. As long as you believe, he is alive.” A pause here. “And
even if he is not…” The words were hesitant, but still steady, still full of
certainty. “Even if he is dead, I will never leave you. I will always be here.”
Stiles closed his eyes as calm settled over him, slowly drifting through his
veins like a sedative. His limbs felt heavy and he slumped forward into Derek’s
arms, his breaths shallow but steady. All he wanted to do was sleep, even
though he was sure that nightmares would haunt him.
"I haven’t had that happen since my mother died," Stiles croaked out, his voice
brittle.
Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, his own breath shaky now, but in
relief.
***** Chapter 15 *****

+++
Emperor Gerard walked out on the podium, an ashen faced Stiles behind him, the
boy’s eyes clouded in confusion but sharp with suspicion. The gathering before
them was mass. It seemed that all of Rome had come to dine for the great, and
now sadly late, Senator Stilinksi. Many faces shone with tears in the noonday
sun, and there was not a smile to be seen or a cheer to be heard, even from the
tiniest of babes. Today was a day for mourning.
"Senator Stilinski," Emperor Gerard began, his crackling voice carried through
the silence, "was a great man. He fought for our great nation, golden and
shining in the sun, paramount to Mount Olympus itself, till the last of his
breath. He was paramount to several Roman victories throughout his lifetime,
more than any man would care to count, and it is only truth that he is a large
reason why we are still the glorious empire we are today. Though we were not
there to put the golden coins upon his eyes for him to cross to the Underworld,
he has no doubt paid his way through his honor and valor a thousand times over.
I would not be surprised if the Gods have asked him to dine with them, and he
now sits in their merry halls, drinking upon their ambrosia, his glorious wife
Claudia now by his side."
Derek was in the crowd standing next to Scott. He had not been allowed to
accompany Stiles to the Emperor’s chambers, which he was both relieved and
anguished by. Who would protect his Lordling now? And the boy did seem so
young, so pale and broken, standing behind the mighty emperor who swathed
himself in power.
"But we must learn to see the gods’ designs," Emperor Gerard continued,
inhaling deeply through his nose as he grasped the podium before him. "Each of
us has a place within this world, and a fate we must belong to. We may only see
plays of great heroes and epic battles, but even the lowest of us will have a
design to our name. And just as Senator Stilinski’s design was not foreseen
until this tragic circumstance, so too was I unable to see what design they
held for his honorable son. So the string of fate has been cut, so early in our
Senator’s life… But so another string will be joined to the remaining Stilinski
blood, entwined together with the golden sacredness of matrimony."
Stiles eyes widened in horror, and he quickly glanced down at the crowd,
seeking out Derek’s gaze. Derek could feel himself turn to stone, his fists
clenching, his face void of all emotions. He had not expected to hear talk of
marriage for years… But why announce it here? Lydia’s family should be the one
to make the announcement, and the young lady was not even present. Only Stiles
and the Argents…
Realization hit him just as Emperor Gerard spoke once more.
"In light of his father’s great honor to our people, I will now make the
Stilinski name connected to my own household." The crowd stirred, confusion
waving through them as Stiles’ mouth opened in shock. "Young Lord Stilinski
will be wed to my granddaughter, Allison, and will wear the golden diadem after
my son. I believe that this will create an even more glorious Rome for us all
to be citizens of, and he will pave a shining path to victory, to our future,
to an even more powerful Rome!"
The crowd stood in stunned silence for several heartbeats… Before erupting in a
joyous cry which rebounded across the city.
Stiles and Derek simply remained looking at each other, suddenly feeling
further apart than any physical distance could make them.
+++






+++
Allison clenched her hands, still resting on her lap. “I think it’s about time
I was told what is going on,” she stated, and though her voice was soft it
still held the air of a command.
Scott smiled nervously, rubbing his neck. “Going on? Didn’t Stiles just
explain-“
"Do not mock me, Scott." Allison stood, her eyes flashing. "I’ve been patient.
I did not question your reasons for leaving my family’s employ, and I did not
press you to tell me when you clearly weren’t ready. But I-" The words seem to
stick in her throat, her eyes shining with angry tears, though she refused to
shed them. "I need to be told now," she ended, her voice barely above a
whisper.
Derek and Stiles looked at each other, their eyes unsure. Still, neither of
them made to speak, seeming to silently agree to allow Scott this decision.
Would the soldier tell Allison the truth?
"Allison…" Scott stepped forward, making to hold her hands, but she moved them
away from his grasp. "Allison, please," he pleaded, his voice filled with
agony. "I want to tell you, I really do, but.. I just can’t. Not now, not yet."
"Well then," Allison answered, her voice clipped with decision, "I suppose I
will just muddle around in the dark then, shall I? Be wed to your best friend,
with no other choice?" She turned away from Scott before he had time to speak,
and called out, "Isaac!"
Isaac, who had been standing a far distance away well out of earshot, perked up
as his lady called him, rushing to her side. Stiles couldn’t help but note that
he had a sword at his side, obviously gaining enough power as a servant to
become a soldier, a far higher position.
Isaac bowed, glancing at Scott wearily. “Are you ready to leave, my lady?”
"Yes. Inform my father of my departure, I wish to leave at once." Allison’s
voice was icy, and she refused to turn back towards Scott.
"Allison, please," Scott began again, moving to grab her arm, "don’t-"
Issac’s sharp blade cut him off, pressed lightly against his arm. “I would not
be so quick to grab the lady if I was you,” Isaac warned with an easy air,
though his body was stiff, his posture that of a soldier rather than a friend.
Scott couldn’t help the growl that emanated from his throat, though he was
quick to choke it off as he moved back.
"Isaac, please!" Stiles protested, moving to stand with a gaping mouth. "We’re
you’re friends-"
"Hardly that," Isaac was quick to remind him, his eyes mysterious and bold.
"The loyalty I have towards you all pales in comparison to my assigned ward, I
assure you. Do not test me on that."
Stiles eyes widened in surprise, and he looked back to Derek. But the man was
simply staring at Isaac with a small frown, and made no move to stop him, or to
interfere. Then again, Stiles thought, perhaps Derek understood Isaac’s
reasoning more than any of them.
Allison left without another word, without looking back, Isaac by her side.
Stiles felt like he had fewer allies than ever.
End Notes
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