Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7972969.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Ennis/Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Ennis_(Teen_Wolf), Adrian_Harris, Cora_Hale, Sheriff
      Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Erica_Reyes, Kira_Yukimura, Peter
      Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Rape/Non-con_Elements, Breeding, Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics,
      Alternate_Universe, Alternate_Universe_-_No_Werewolves, Impregnation,
      forced_unknotting, Objectification, Omega_Stiles_Stilinski, Alpha_Scott,
      Mpreg, Prince_Derek, Princess_Cora, King_Peter, Scenting, Scent_Marking,
      Fluff
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-06 Updated: 2018-02-26 Chapters: 12/? Words: 17773
****** The Shadow King ******
by PapuruKakugan
Summary
     *Not just Porn without Plot, lots of plot. Multi-chapter galore.* XD
     "The Overseer was attuned to their Alpha's movements and quickly
     ushered away those he'd barely glanced at, his attention wavering
     between the three male Omega's now naked in front of him.
     There was a deep rumble in the Alpha's chest and Stiles knew it was
     aimed for him. The Alpha was calling to him, choosing him. His body
     went loose and slick started dribbling between his cheeks as his eyes
     lit up gold in response to his Alpha."
     Stiles thought being chosen as the newest breeding slave for the
     Alpha was the end; he was wrong, it was only the beginning of a his
     new life. Follow Stiles as he navigates spies, invasions, deception,
     treason and more.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
It was so quiet in the dormitory. Everyone was asleep. Everyone except Stiles
that is. He couldn't sleep. His mind kept wandering to tomorrow's events.
They're meeting the Alpha. He was prepared for this. Had been preparing for
nearly 2 years. How to look vacant and as if he couldn't hold an intellectual
conversation. How to look boring.
===============================================================================
Stiles and the other Omega's had been scrubbed, combed, clothed (minimally) and
were presented in the Alpha's viewing chamber. They were being perused like
cattle, their statistics listed off instead of their names.
The sneering Overseer was attuned to their Alpha's movements and quickly
ushered away those he'd barely glanced at, his attention wavering between the
three male Omega's now naked in front of him.
Stiles was the shortest of the group at only 5' 2'', but he wasn't the
thinnest, he had muscle. Lean muscle so slight on his frame it was
almost imperceptible. He'd always made sure to look after himself as much as
possible whilst being confined to group rooms and schooled in their training.
He'd used low hanging beams for pull-ups, ran short circles around their beds
until he was dizzy, push ups were performed with other Omega's sat on his feet
while they read their textbooks.
The other Omega's thought him defiant when he refused to sit and read the same
tomes again and again. He wasn't defiant, he'd already absorbed everything from
them in one sitting. Stiles' intellect was a carefully hidden secret from
everyone. It was better that way, it gave him more of a chance to escape.
Stiles' skin was pebbled from the cool air surrounding them, the only heat
radiating from the Alpha before the shivering Omega's. Stiles had never thought
he'd be chosen, there were other's better suited to the task. They were taller,
their features more symmetrical, their gait poised and precise. Stiles was just
background decoration in comparison to them. He realised he wasn't so lucky
however when he chanced a glance at the two other boys beside him, this Alpha
clearly had a type.
Suddenly Alpha Ennis' scent became overwhelming as he drew closer, closer to
Stiles. There was a deep rumble in the Alpha's chest and Stiles knew it was
aimed at him. The Alpha was calling to him, choosing him. His body went loose
and slick started dribbling between his cheeks as his eyes lit up gold in
response to his Alpha.
He wanted to scream, cry and beg for someone else to be chosen. He wanted to be
discarded like the others had. He wanted the Alpha to stop making his body
want.
The Alpha stepped forward and wrapped a huge hand around the nape of his neck,
squeezing gently to force his body more into submission. His 6' 4'' form was
crowded against the Omega's front, red eyes boring into gold as he slid his
hands around Stiles' ass. He was lifted up and automatically wrapped his legs
around his Alpha's firm waist.
Stiles was already hard and aching to be filled as he was carried to the
Alpha's chambers, his hips wouldn't stop bucking as fingers dug into the meat
of his thighs. He was thrown onto the bed as the Alpha ripped his own clothes
away, revealing the most devastating body. Lithe sculpted muscle and thick
veins ran down his whole form, huge pectorals and deltoids made Stiles' mouth
water. A thick, angry red cock hung obscenely low and glistened with precum.
This man was a God in corporeal form.
Stiles' legs parted automatically for the now approaching Alpha, crawling over
the sheets and forcing the Omega to scoot backwards into the plush pillows. He
felt like he was being hunted, despite having already been caught under this
beast of a man.
He really was a beast, Stiles was 12 when he'd watched the invading armies
smash their city walls. His mother had been killed in the fray, he had been
wrenched out of his father's hands by one of Alpha Ennis' lieutenants. He had
watched his city burn in fire and blood.
That had been two years ago, and he had since been trained to please their
Alpha. He can't speak to him, can't say no to him, can't deny him children.
That was Stiles' purpose here. Every month a new Omega was chosen and brought
to the Alpha's chambers. Every month the Alpha fucked a litter into them. Every
month they wondered if the Omega would be killed for being infertile.
It had been horrific to learn that Alpha Ennis had killed a 13 year old Omega
for not bearing him children. Four months he had her in his bed and she had not
caught. She'd quietly disappeared to the public but the guards whispers were
loud in the dead of night.
Stiles couldn't believe he was whimpering and whining for the Alpha to bury
himself between his soaked thighs. This Alpha who'd caused his mothers death,
kidnapped him from his father's arms and brought ruin to hundreds of families.
He was so ashamed.
When Alpha Ennis' cock finally breached him he felt complete. Alpha and Omega
joined in sinful coalition. He was pinned down, writhing against the sheets,
pushing down onto Alpha's cock as he snarled above him.
His leg was grabbed and yanked as he was forced on his hands and knees, thick
cock barely leaving him empty as Alpha pinned him to the bed once more. He was
propelled backwards and impaled on the Alpha's length in a punishing pace. It
was brutal and dirty, the slick sound of cock gliding through the
slippery hole, the Alpha snarling and growling above him.
The pounding got faster as the knot finally started to swell, the slight bulge
stretching his rim as it moved in and out. Sharp teeth bit deeply into the back
of his neck as the Alpha shifted closer and started to spill inside the Omega.
Stiles moaned weakly as the knot inflated fully, his own cock spurting out a
watery stream of cum into the bedding. The Alpha kept pushing his knot deeper
as the stream of seed became more forceful, flooding his insides and trickling
deeper into his womb. A base part of the Omega desperately hoped he'd catch,
that he'd whelp Alpha's pups.
The less primal side of Stiles was coming back to reality, the haze of lust
induced by an Alpha's call had receded and left despair that choked his breath
in his throat. He buried his head in the bedding as he tried not to let the
tears flow, his breathing shallow and ragged. His worst fear had just become
true and he'd enjoyed it.
The knot didn't last as long as he'd been told to expect and Stiles' hole was
soon devoid of the hot, throbbing length. Only a small drop of cum still
attached to Alpha's tip was detected, the rest having been planted where it
could do it's job.
The Alpha pushed him away to the edge of the bed and barked at him to leave. He
did. He had done his duty.
He had been fucked. Bred. Used.
He left Alpha Ennis' chambers to find the Overseer waiting for him, the
disgusted sneer still plastered over his face. It was a wonder how he even
acquired his job if he was so sickened by the thought of the Omega's, but
Stiles barely cared about Overseer Harris' feelings. He barely cared about
anything right now.
He was escorted to a small bathing room, already complete with a steaming pool
of water and an attendant. Harris pushed him roughly towards the Beta girl
waiting for them and left to find the impregnated Omega some new robes suitable
for an 'Alpha's whore'.
Stiles tried not to cry as he was gently guided into the scented water. The
girl used a soft cloth to rub his skin in circles with a weak smelling soap. He
winced when the bite mark was cleaned, the girl didn't stop however, just
muttered a quick "sorry" and continued her actions. Stiles was instructed to
dunk his head underwater to wet his hair and more soap was applied and rubbed
into his scalp before being washed away with another dunking. The ministrations
relaxed him a little and the tears he'd been holding back for so long finally
came, dripping down his face and mixing with the bathwater. He made no noise
but his shoulders shook and the water rippled with the force of his muted
movements. He didn't expect to feel arms wrap gently around him and hold him
while he cried, but he clung onto her arms and sobbed against her skin.
He felt drained when the Overseer finally made his entrance again, seemingly
even more disgusted with Stiles' appearance now that he was clean. He wasn't
clean though, he'd never be clean again.
Again he was escorted down the hallway back towards the Alpha's chambers, his
heart went wild in his chest and his breathing quickened as he envisioned
spending his nights in that Alpha's bed. Harris snorted beside him and turned
them down another small hallway to the left. A single door opened into a simple
room. A queen sized bed with soft covers, an armchair and table with candles, a
small wash basin and chamber pot sat in the corner; this was Stiles' new room.
He'd walked a few paces into the room but whirled around when the door slammed
shut. He pounded and shouted out but only heard Harris laugh and turn a key
before walking away, leaving Stiles to wallow in anguish. He slid down the
length of the door and curled up on the floor, sobbing once more. His hand
wandered down to his abdomen, that if all went to the Alpha's plan, would soon
be swollen and full of pups.
Stiles barely made it to the chamberpot before his stomach emptied itself of
it's pitiful contents. Stiles didn't want to know what happened to the Omega's
that birthed their pups for the Alpha. They all knew they were never bred
twice. Some thought they were sold, others thought they became the lieutenants
perks, most thought they were killed.
Stiles really didn't want to find out the truth. He couldn't die here. He had
to find out what had happened to his dad, and find a proper place to build a
memorial to his mother. He needed to get out of here.
He needed to escape. He needed a plan.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     “How?” Stiles prods as he stands and steps towards her, “How can you
     make my life more comfortable?”
     Her lips are pursed as she contemplates her answer, but Stiles beats
     her to it, already suspecting of the answer, “You mean if someone
     else were to be Alpha?” He asks in a delicately careful voice.
     Her eyes harden and muscles tense, he’s right. She’d be disgusted and
     angry if he was wrong. Mari’s a spy.
     Stiles smiles as his eyes flick between her own, “Tell me what to
     do.”
Stiles awoke to the sound of a key turning in the lock. He'd fallen asleep
curled up in the middle of the bed, blanket haphazardly wrapped around him. A
girl enters his chamber carrying a silver tray containing sliced cheeses, cured
meats, fruit and a cup of sweet wine. The same girl who’d bathed him yesterday.
The sun was high in the sky, rays of golden light streaming through the drapes.
It was late in the day. Stiles didn't know how long it had taken him to fall
asleep, the day's events kept repeating on his mind like a cruel joke. He sat
up slowly, muscles aching as though they’d carried his body for miles instead
of going lax in submission.
The girl still stood awkwardly, waiting in the entrance for direction. His eyes
drifted to the armchair just inside his peripheral vision, upon which a small
pile of folded clothes sat. Stiles started and looked around, frightened to
find any more changes to the room made whilst he was vulnerable.
The girl recognises his distress, "It was me," she admitted. "I came earlier to
dress you and ask your preference for breakfast, but you were gone to the
gods." She dropped her gaze and looked guilty, "I didn't want to wake you, I
assumed you needed the rest."
Stiles swallowed, his throat parched, "Water?"
The girl nods quickly and sets down the tray onto the table, retrieving another
from outside bearing a large pitcher and cup. She fills the cup and passes it
to Stiles who drains it immediately, before reaching for the pitcher to refill.
The girl tries to do it for him but wilts under his glare, "I can do it
myself." She nods again and leaves him to hydrate and feed himself.
Stiles eats quickly, spending little time savouring the food, desperate to fill
his void stomach. He's ravenous, having barely eaten before the choosing and
regurgitating his stomach’s contents the night before. He slows his chewing as
his thoughts turn to yesterdays events. The choosing. His claiming. His
impregnation. He closes his eyes and clenches his fist around his cup as he
tries to will away the pang of nausea creeping in his gut.
They'll know if he's pregnant before the sun sets two weeks today, and if he's
not he'll be shown back to the Alpha’s bed for a repeat performance. If he’s
lucky.
Stiles chokes back a sob at the thought of a pup growing inside him. The primal
Omega in him relishes the thought of whelping a pup for a huge, powerful Alpha.
Everything else in him recoils in horror at the parasite probably manifesting
inside his previously clean womb.
His whole body convulses with shivers and the cup clashes to the floor, water
spilling over the smooth stone, the metal clang sounding harshly in the cool
air. He curls in on himself, hunched over the edge of the bed and makes little
noise as he wallows in his grief. The girl quickly closes the ajar door and
crosses to Stiles’ bedside, wrapping her arms around him and holding him
tightly.
“I can help you if you want,” she murmurs into his ear. He’s barely able to
hear it over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, “I know someone who
can help keep you safe.”
“Do you know how to kill a fetus?” He asks quietly, both hopeful and afraid of
the answer. Hopeful to be rid of the poison inside; afraid of the consequences
of appearing barren.
“No, I don’t.” The girl sighs with her reply. She leans back to look at his
face, pulling out a small cloth to wipe away his tears. They sit for a few
minutes, breathing in the same space, barely looking at each other.
“What’s your name?” Stiles asks.
The girl gives him a weak smile, “You can call me Mari.”
He nods and turns from her, rearranging the bed clothes into a warmer
configuration. “Are there any oats? For oatmeal?” He asks her. Stiles has eaten
oatmeal for breakfast every day for over two years, now he feels even more out
of place this morning without it.
Mari nods and stands, fetching the tray of food but leaving the pitcher of
water. The cup is collected off the floor and taken with her to the door. She
turns to Stiles,
“Would you like to visit the gardens later? Some air might help things feel...”
Her words filter away as she realises nothing is going to make Stiles feel
better. Saying such things would be in poor taste.
Stiles understands though, and would actually enjoy some air, so he nods
quickly with a quiet hum of consent. They’d been denied the luxury of the fresh
air whilst in the Omega dormitories, he hasn’t felt the wind in years.
He used to love sitting outside with his mother a she wove baskets, using the
fine reed strands only available on their western coast. They were beautiful,
intricate things, her baskets. A craft he never had the patience to learn. He
would splinter one strand of cane and dismiss it all in annoyance, his mother
observing him with a small smile. Now he wishes he’d had given it more time,
given her more time.
He tries not to dwell on thoughts of mother and father, they’re dangerous for
him to think about. Not when he needs his strength and will to survive here.
Biting at his lip and still thinking of his situation, and the possibility of
escape, he barely notices Mari return with a clean cup and rags to mop up his
spill. She doesn’t try to talk to him but does nudge him a little later when
he’s presented with a thick porridge, golden with expensive nuts, seeds and
spices. He turns to her, wordless in gratitude, but she only nods and continues
on her way out again.
Late afternoon sun watches them strolling the gardens, Stiles’ muscles stronger
now with food and drink. They’re taking a path through the colour separated
gardens, this one full of beautiful purple flowers. Morning Glory; Foothill
Penstemon; Snapdragon; and Stiles’ favourite so far, Salvia Celestial Blue.
He also examines a plant low in the ground, almost indecipherable to an unknown
eye, it’s a weed really. They’re threaded throughout the whole of the gardens,
interspersed with full bushes and overlooked. Stiles takes a few of the red
tinged buds to decorate his chambers.
“It was one of my father’s favourite’s,” he answers Mari’s silent question. “He
always said that the smallest of us can thrive under the biggest shadow, but
when the biggest fall the smallest will be cast into the light to shine.”
Mari smiles at his explanation, saying no more of the small cocoon-like buds.
They spend a few quiet hours enjoying the dry heat bearing down on them,
avoiding the guard paths and getting lost in the maze of shrubbery only to
emerge where they started.
===============================================================================
Stiles gets to know more about Mari, not through speech but through her
actions. She’s compassionate but reserved, forthright but tactful, headstrong
but tolerant. Most of all she is fierce. Defiant.
He makes his decision two weeks later, when his scent has changed to reveal
pregnancy.
“How can you help me?” He enquires whilst watching her fold linens.
They occupy in a storage room, full with linens and towels. Mari stands in the
far corner, arms frozen aloft holding a dark blue sheet. She doesn’t turn at
his question, but her shoulders betray her cautiousness.
“The morning before we walked the gardens for the first time, you told me you
could help me if I wanted.” He turns a hopeful gaze at her back, “Could you?
How?”
She does turn then, crumpling the sheet in her arms. Her eyes are suspicious.
“I can’t kill your baby,” Mari starts, remembering the previous conversation.
She takes a step closer and her voice drops to a whisper when she adds, “But I
might be able to make life more comfortable for you in the long run.”
“How?” Stiles prods as he stands and steps towards her, “How can you make my
life more comfortable?”
Her lips are pursed as she contemplates her answer, but Stiles beats her to it,
already suspecting of the answer, “You mean if someone else were to be Alpha?”
He asks in a delicately careful voice.
Her eyes harden and muscles tense, he’s right. She’d be disgusted and angry if
he was wrong. Mari’s a spy.
Stiles smiles as his eyes flick between her own, “Tell me what to do.”
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     He slumps to the floor, leaning against the chair and lets the tears
     fall. He’s so scared. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to trust
     Mari, but are they really going to help him after they’ve succeeded
     with their plan? Would they be in a position to help him? He hasn’t
     anyone else to trust, anyone else who would help him. He’s so alone.
Chapter Notes
     Warning for forced removal of a knot (not Stiles), and
     objectification of Omega's.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles had known from the start that if his assumption of Mari being a spy was
correct, then she was trying to recruit him. For someone not looking for an
escape route they may have missed it; a lesser educated person may have missed
it; a more subservient Omega may have missed it. Stiles did not. Stiles was
okay with being recruited, it meant he had allies.
Mari had been hesitant to give too many details about the plan to Stiles in the
past week, only allowing him to know enough to provide help to forces outside
the castle. He was to leave his chamber window unlocked in three days time.
They were walking again in the gardens, as they had every few days since the
claiming, this time they were shuffling down the path of yellow hued flowers.
They cast a sickly shine in the midday heat.
Stiles was talking quietly, asking questions between bending down to admire
buds. Mari walked stoically beside him, ignoring most questions. She would
raise her head and look to the distance when a question merited no answer,
Stiles kept trying but he was getting irate.
"What will happen when the person gets in?" She doesn't look at him as she
responds, but bends to admire some Bush Poppy,
"They'll decide after they've scouted the castle." Stiles nods and turns to
look into the flower beds. He continues his questioning,
“Who am I leaving the window open for?” No answer.
“Will they hurt me?” He asks in a small voice. At this Mari did respond, her
eyes widened in shock and she stepped towards him,
“Gods no Stiles, he-” She sighs heavily and looks him intensely in the eye.
“Stiles, that man is the most high-principled man I know, he would never harm
someone who didn’t deserve it. He would definitely never lay a hand on a
pregnant Omega, deserving or not.”
Stiles looked away when she reminded him of his condition, the thought of Alpha
Ennis’ pups inside him still made him nauseous. He nods and kneels down to
admire the weed-like plant at his feet, with red tinged cocoon buds. He picks a
few more to take back to his chambers, as he has done every time they walk
here. Mari had inquired why he picks so many, three is hardly many, but he
admitted they don’t last long off the stem in this heat, and have to be
disposed of quickly before they wilt and rot.
They continue their walk towards the castle and to Stiles’ chambers, Mari loops
her arm through his and leans heavily into his side as she whispers in his ear,
“He will ask for your name when he comes, tell him, and he will tell you his in
return.” Stiles turns to her with a raised eyebrow in question.
“Taylon. His name is Taylon,” she informs him.
===============================================================================
Stiles has been summoned. Summoned by Alpha Ennis. He’s being escorted by a
guard to the master chambers where Overseer Harris is waiting outside the
doors, sneer still in effect.
He’s ushered into the room, and greeted with the delightful sight of the Alpha
knotted inside a Beta house servant. He grins over his shoulder at the
entranced Omega, eyes feral in lust. The Alpha doesn’t care for the girl under
him as he forcefully drags his knot out of her opening, cock already finished
cumming, he pushes her head into the bedding to muffle her pained screams as
though her response were offensive.
Stiles’ breathing is hard and fast as the Alpha, still fully naked, bends down
in front of him and lifts his tunic, tugging his pants down slightly to expose
his flat stomach. His gut rolls in repugnance as the Alpha nuzzles his stomach,
breathing deep and murmuring at his womb.
“Such a good fucked up Omega,” The Alpha’s voice is thick with possessiveness.
“I can’t wait to watch you whelp my pups bitch, fuck right into that stretched
hole for another litter.”
Stiles is looking at the wall opposite, trying not to let his eyes stray to the
sniffling Beta girl on the bed, trying not to kick this hateful Alpha away from
him. There’s a sloppy kiss just above his navel, he closes his eyes and tries
to breathe. The Alpha continues peppering kisses all over his exposed skin,
Stiles wants to vomit.
They’re only interrupted, gratefully, by Stiles’ stomach rumbling with hunger.
The Alpha looks up at him, furious.
“Why haven’t you eaten?” He demands of the Omega. Stiles still doesn’t look
down at the Alpha when he replies,
“I was taken from my chambers before I had occasion, Alpha.” The honorific
title of the man below him was forced from his throat. This isn’t what an Alpha
should be, not cruel or wanton but should be protective and loyal.
“Take it back to be fed Harris, do your job or I’ll find someone else to do
it.” The Alpha stands as he barks the command at the Overseer stood waiting at
the entrance.
The Overseer clutches Stiles’ arm, nails digging painfully in revenge for his
scolding. The Alpha has already turned back to the bed as Stiles is dragged
out, his still slightly knotted cock being forced back inside the shaking Beta,
savage grin baring long canines in warning lest she struggle.
Stiles’ heart is pounding painfully in his chest as he is force-marched back to
his rooms, the Overseer throws him inside making him stumble into the armchair.
The look he’s given by the Overseer is one that promised violence against him,
had he not been under the protection of whelping the Alpha’s pups. The door
slams after the retreating Overseer, door left unlocked.
Stiles stares at the unlocked door, debating whether to run. How far could he
get? Would anyone help him? How would he survive on his own? No-one would take
in a lone, pregnant smelling Omega in a city where they’re bought and sold like
cattle. They would take him straight back to the Overseer and demand reward for
returning the Alpha’s property. Where the Alpha would keep him as breeding
stock until he withered from overuse. The Alpha wants to keep him.
He slumps to the floor, leaning against the chair and lets the tears fall. He’s
so scared. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to trust Mari and this Taylon,
but are they really going to help him after they’ve succeeded with their plan?
Would they be in a position to help him? He hasn’t anyone else to trust, anyone
else who would help him. He’s so alone.
Every hope and doubt gets tangled in his head as the hour draws later, the
desire for food gone until his stomach rumbles painfully with the sunset, amber
light cast over the land.
Stiles removes a red flower from where they’re hidden underneath the armchair,
a small hollow in the wood, and holds the bud while he eats the now cold food
laid out for him. He cracks open the flower bud and squeezes the juices into
his drink. The thin milky drops blending with the water to create a bitter,
tangy flavour. He knocks it back like a shot and tries not to gag at the burn
in his throat. It leaves him with the start of a headache so he climbs into
bed, unhooking the window latch before he does, and lets a dreamless but
nightmarish sleep take him.
Stiles wakes quickly, head buzzing with sleep, to see a figure standing at the
end of the bed next to the window. The figure is looking around the room but
stops and focuses on the broken flower bud next to his food tray, there’s just
enough moonlight for Stiles to see the deep frown on the man’s brow. When
Stiles’ breathing falters the man turns, slowly drawing a dagger from it’s
sheath at his belt.
“What’s your name?” A deceptively gentle voice, but spoken in a curt manner.
Stiles takes a moment to wet his lips and pull himself to sitting on the bed.
Obviously he’s taking too long as the man tightens his grip on the knife and
raises both eyebrows, imploring for answer.
Now or never.
“Stiles...” his dry voice whispers, but the quiet air lets his words be known
loudly in the cold room. The man relaxes minutely and gives the response,
“Stiles. I’m Taylon.”
Chapter End Notes
     Enter Derek, yay! *fanfares*
     XD
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Red eyes shine from the dark below and his own light up at the
     inadvertent challenge. A hand shoots out which he grips and helps to
     haul out the other Alpha with ease.
     “Jesus it stinks down there. Why am I the one being smuggled through
     the pirate tunnels?” Dark eyebrows that compete with his own are
     pulled into a frown, dark brown eyes accusing.
     “Because you’d give away our position by breathing McCall.” He
     counters. It’s the same argument they’ve had for weeks. “Plus, you’re
     going to be taking the city as Alpha, the least you can do is get a
     little dirty for it.”
He moves quickly through the castle, keeping to the shadows and listening at
every corner. He’d left the Omega, smelling of fear and something strange, in
his chambers with instruction to stay put and wait for his return. He hates
ordering Omega’s around, but right now he isn’t an Alpha asserting dominance,
he’s an assassin. A mercenary. A guerrilla warrior.
Their small band of forces has slowly throttled Ennis’ supply lines,
redirecting the crops and materials to smaller villages left weakened and
oppressed in the two years of Ennis’ reign. They’d bribed officials for
information; stolen hidden caches of gold and jewels to weaken the castle’s
wealth; kidnapped servants privy to castle secrets and relocated them to
safety; they’d spent over a year developing this plan.
The plan that now involves him traversing the castle passages, keeping out of
sight in disused rooms and shadowed alcoves. He knows where the master chambers
are, where Ennis resides, but he doesn’t head there. Instead he follows a
winding, crumbling staircase to a long forgotten storeroom full of barrelled
wine and ale. He moves them to reveal a trapdoor with hinges that creak when he
pries it open. Red eyes shine from the dark below and his own light up at the
inadvertent challenge. A hand shoots out which he grips and helps to haul out
the other Alpha with ease.
"By the gods it stinks down there. Why am I the one being smuggled through the
pirate tunnels?” Dark eyebrows that compete with his own are pulled into a
frown, dark brown eyes accusing.
“Because you’d give away our position by breathing McCall.” He counters. It’s
the same argument they’ve had for weeks. “Plus, you’re going to be taking the
city as Alpha, the least you can do is get a little dirty for it.”
There’s a huff and muttering from behind as he leads them from the storeroom,
back up the dilapidated staircase and towards the Omega’s chambers. He pauses
their path a moment to show the other Alpha the hidden passageway he knows
leads to the master chambers.
They arrive back to his original entry point to find the Omega wringing his
hands in the bedsheets. He shoots to his feet when he notices one Alpha has now
become two. His scent intensifies in fear, eyes wide and desperate, but his
stance is defensive. This little Omega would fight tooth and nail to protect
himself.
He approves.
===============================================================================
The arrival of a second Alpha to his chambers from the castle depths does
little to assuage Stiles’ nerves that this plan will succeed. It does, however,
jump start his fear of being alone in a bedroom, with two Alphas.
The second Alpha is a deep contrast to the first, he’s all smiles where the
other is frowns, loose limbed and posture relaxed where the first is stiff and
unyielding. He also comes over with a hand outstretched to introduce himself.
“Hey, I’m-” He cuts off when Stiles flinches away from the quickly given hand,
the Alpha’s brow furrows as he looks back to Taylon, “I didn’t...” Taylon
scoffs and cuffs him over the back of his head,
“You startled him lunkhead.” Taylon turns his attention to Stiles, “Anyone come
in while I was gone?”
Stiles shakes his head quickly before gathering himself to speak, “No.”
He wants to say more but he isn’t sure how the Alphas in his chambers would
react. He knows that Alpha Ennis and his lieutenants are not a true
representation of how society really is, their city has basically become a
savage state under his rule. Omegas are property; Alpha’s words are law; Betas
are expected to take care of and submit to Omegas and Alphas respectively, and
have no place here other than to fill cups and warm beds. Omegas are breeding
stock, bred, used and discarded; traded like a commodity without sentience.
Stiles remembers what their lives were like before the invasion; his mother was
an Alpha. Mother was kind, sweet and took care of their whole neighbourhood
with the other Alphas; ensuring they all had enough food and clean water;
enough firewood for winter nights; that their roofs were water and wind tight;
pups were kept clutched protectively to their sides during outings and defended
with a refined fury when threatened. They were real Alphas. True Alphas.
Not like Ennis.
“-so that’s when we’ll move.” Taylon had been talking to the other Alpha while
Stiles was lost in thought, he’d heard the words but barely registered their
meaning. He spoke before Taylon started again,
“Who’s going to claim the city?” Both pairs of eyes turned to him, intrigued.
“I am,” the newest Alpha declared. “I’ll be the one to challenge Ennis in his
chambers, and I’ll win.” The finality of the statement was emphasized with a
flash of red eyes, eyes that widened in surprise when the Omega didn’t bow in
deference even though his scent stank of fear and nervousness. Taylon’s brow
furrowed as the unnamed Alpha commented on this,
“You’re a strange Omega, Stiles.” Stiles turned a hard look to him and the
Alpha winced a little.
“Sorry, I just meant that you’re not broken down like others we’ve seen.” A
sheepish look fell over the placating Alpha’s face.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” It was Taylon who answered for the abashed Alpha,
“Yes, it is.” His voice was full of quiet tenderness, and an expression Stiles
couldn’t fathom on his face. He ignored Taylon as he asked the newest Alpha for
his name,
“Scott. Scott McCall.” He provided with a small head tilt.
===============================================================================
They were waiting for dawn to come. Stiles was perched on his bed, Scott in the
armchair and Taylon keeping watch at the window. Scott hasn’t shut up since
they arrived, much to Taylon’s everlasting frustration. He’d growl every time
Scott’s enthusiasm rocketed to an easily discoverable noise level when they
discovered a shared interest between the bubbly Alpha and Omega.
Stiles’ scent had changed from fearful and nervous, to just nervous now he’d
spent more time with them. He didn’t trust them implicitly but he felt he could
trust them enough to not hurt him for now.
When dawn started showing on the horizon Scott became solemn, his jaw tight and
fingers flexing against his sheathed daggers. They knew it was time when Taylon
pushed off the window and approached Scott, hand extended and eyes resigned to
their fate.
“This will change things,” Scott insisted, eyes heavy with emotion, “Whatever
happens next determines the fate of a lot of people.” His words betrayed his
worry, his possible failure at defeating Ennis. Taylon didn’t show emotion, nor
speak, but nodded in agreement.
“You need to take it back,” he advised the stalwart Alpha, who opened his mouth
to retort, anger bleeding into his face.
“You know I’m right. It’s better for everyone if it’s you, not him,” Scott
continued to argue. “Don’t let him ruin the only thing you’ve got left.” He
finished with a grave, pleading look.
Taylon didn’t respond, and Scott left with a resigned sigh to end the argument,
a short nod to the Omega and then the door softly clicked shut behind him.
Stiles watched a muscle in Taylon’s jaw twitch as they waited for the signal;
the howl Scott would release to mark his triumph over Ennis, his triumph of his
new territory.
When it came Taylon’s red eyes burned with the challenge and showed every sign
of fighting his instincts, which wanted to roar back and protest that
dominance. Stiles’ own eyes lit up gold in recognition of the champion Alpha’s
roar, and watched the remaining Alpha with uncertainty. He was an Omega alone
with an Alpha who’s instinct to claim had been incited.
Their eyes met as Taylon smelt his distress. Stiles forced himself not to look
away, any weakness now could be his end, but that could also be true of showing
defiance. He was shocked when the Alpha was the one to defer to him, lowering
his eyes and tilting his head to the side to expose his neck. Stiles’ breath
caught in his throat, his primal side recognising the submission, the power
he’d been shown. His eyes shone brighter as the Alpha’s dimmed in respect. No,
he didn’t fear this Alpha.
“It’s time for us to leave.” Taylon’s voice was courteous as he met Stiles’
eyes again. Stiles nods slowly in agreement, still in awe at having an Alpha
acquiesce to him, before collecting himself and shaking his head in confusion,
“Wait, what?!”
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     There’s another heart racing roar from Scott as Stiles boosts himself
     onto the window ledge, tucking his legs up and over to balance
     precariously on the other side. He can just make out Taylon’s red
     eyes glowing in the dark, a target to aim for.
     “This is not how I imagined falling for an Alpha.”
Stiles protested as much as he could during their departure, he hadn’t been
made aware he was leaving the city. A small sack had been placed in his hands
as he was told to pack his belongings, to which he had to admit he didn’t have
any. A look of pain flitted across Taylon’s face before he turned to unlatch
the window, leaving Stiles confused as to why a stranger would care about his
non-existent personal effects.
It was true though, Stiles didn’t have any belongings, hadn’t for over two
years. The only thing he has to his name is his body (though that’s somewhat
debatable with the price tag on it), his intelligence, the minimalistic clothes
he wore and his flower buds. The flower buds. He quickly uncovers them from
their hiding place and stashes them in the small sack before tying it by the
string around his waist, crude but effective.
He grabbed the pair of outdoor boots by the door and tripped over to the
window, hopping on one leg at a time to get the boots on his feet. Taylon was
climbing through and standing on the ledge just below.
“I’m going to jump down, you’ll have to jump after me. I’ll catch you.” He was
told as Taylon leapt off the ledge. Stiles almost yelled out after him before
reminding himself that, although the city was now under Scott’s rule, they
needed to keep quiet to make it out alive. Ennis’ lieutenants would not take
kindly to seeing the Alpha’s Omega escaping with an intruder; they’re not
stupid enough not to calculate that ‘murder + intruder + escapees = guilty’.
There’s another heart racing roar from Scott as Stiles boosts himself onto the
window ledge, tucking his legs up and over to balance precariously on the other
side. He can just make out Taylon’s red eyes glowing in the dark, a target to
aim for.
“This is not how I imagined falling for an Alpha.” he muttered angrily as he
sprung into the air. There was a snort from the ground before he was caught in
strong arms, held tightly against a firm chest. The Alpha’s breath brushed his
cheek as he asked quietly, “Alright?”
“Yeah,” Stiles breathed out in response, already scrambling down onto his own
legs. He didn’t get much time to gain balance however as his wrist was tugged
and they were running down the dirt grooves between the trees leading towards
the coloured gardens. They paused, breathing heavily behind a large tree when
two groups of soldiers ran past. They were fighting each other, differing
colours and weapons. One group held thick swords, axes and shields, clad in
plate metal armour; the other group were adorned in malleable leather hides and
brandished daggers, shortbows and a women wielding metal pointed bullwhips.
They carried on through the shadowed trees, moonlight their only guide, and
made their way to the cities outer walls. A small alcove that turned into a
twisted passageway revealed three foot square window low in the stone. Taylon
shuffled through before Stiles followed, and they were greeted by a lot more
soldiers in leather garb. Another woman brandishing a coiled bullwhip, complete
with gleaming metal tip covered in blood, stepped forward.
“Sir. Our forces have stormed the walls, they’re making their way to Alpha
McCall’s side and will succeed shortly.”
"Thank you, Erica." Taylon replied as the men behind her dove into action as
three of Ennis’ soldiers stumbled out of the shadows, they were quickly
dispatched by the archers; six arrows in each man, piercing vital organs and
ensuring death within minutes.
Stiles was trembling with cold, fear and shock. The situation was making him
scared. He wasn’t new to death, spending the last two years being forced to
watch the ritualised executions at Ennis’ hand had given him a first hand
account of the face of a dying man.
He was scared because he didn’t know what his fate would be.
Taylon tugged him to his side and guided him to a tall, grey horse. He was
helped to mount it, then scooted forward a little so Taylon could ride behind
him, arms wrapped around the Omega’s waist.
They rode hard towards the city border, outlying villages flashing past in
minutes, wind whipping their faces as they headed into the surrounding forest,
the still rising sun bathing the land in a purple glow. Stiles didn’t know how
long they had been riding, the horse had shown no signs of faltering yet, but
they slowed once they reached a small clearing with a pond. Taylon dismounted
and helped the tired Omega over to a large rock to rest.
Stiles was trying to calculate the time of day, peering at the sun through the
tree canopy, when a large sack was dumped in his lap. “Don’t drink the water
from the pond, there’s a waterskin in the pack. There’s dried fruits and cured
meats to eat, and the clothes should fit you well enough for now. Keep your
boots on while you change.”
Stiles blinked stupidly at the Alpha relaying the instructions before he
grunted and dug into the pack to retrieve sustenance. He groaned in delight as
he chewed on the dried fruits, the water like a gift from the gods. He changed
into the clothes, keeping his back to the Alpha and half hiding behind a bush.
When he turned he caught the Alpha looking quickly away; he had been staring at
him while he changed.
Stiles sat back on his rock, eyes narrowed and glaring at the Alpha in
accusation. Taylon didn’t comment or apologise but kept his eyes averted until
they were back in the saddle and heading further out to the border.
They could see the guard tower and checkpoint in the distance when Taylon
slowed the horse to a stop and addressed Stiles, “You need to relax into me
Stiles.”
He looked up at Alpha in apprehension before he continued, “I’m going to tell
the guards we’re going to our mating ceremony a few towns over. If you’re stiff
and seem distrustful of me they will be able to tell. Ennis’ forces couldn’t
have gotten word to them yet about his death but we can’t linger too long
here.”
Stiles thought for a few seconds before slowly relaxing back into the warmth
behind him, the arms around his waist tightened minutely in response as the
horse continued on.
They were met with shouts to halt and present any weapons. Taylon revealed the
lone dagger at his hip but kept it sheathed as the guard approached, “What is
your reason for crossing the border?”
“My mate and I are leaving to attend our mating ceremony on my families land a
few towns over, we will be returning in a weeks time once we are bonded.” The
arms around Stiles became tighter but gentle in their hold, conveying the
possessiveness of a mate.
The guard closest to them, an Alpha, addressed Taylon, “We will need to inspect
the Omega for branding marks,” he said with a smirk, “Just to check he isn’t
owned and you’ve actually stolen him.”
Taylon snarled at the guards, “He’smine.” His red eyes cast a furious glow as a
hand curled around Stiles’ stomach, resting over his womb. The guards noticed
the action and reflexively scented the air. Alpha and a pregnant Omega.
The guards lowered their eyes so not to anger the Alpha with an Omega soon to
whelp his pups, and quickly cleared the path to allow them passage at the
behest of their superior. Before they crossed the border, Taylon was handed a
quill and parchment upon which he signed his name, his mates name and his lands
location. All false of course, and they were let through the guard post without
further interruption or comment.
A few leagues after the border crossing, Taylon moved away from Stiles, the
cold air making him shiver where the Alpha had been keeping him warm.
“I’m sorry you had to do that.” Taylon apologised.
“It’s alright.” Stiles replied with a small smile. ‘I didn’t mind it,’ he
admitted only in his head.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles wonders why he’s travelling with such a man. An Omega pregnant
     with a dead enemies pups, who has no strategic value nor wealth of
     information. The only other reason he could be kept safe is the
     pregnancy. An honourable Alpha wouldn’t leave a pregnant Omega in the
     middle of a war fray, and a man of station would be looked upon
     favorably for rescuing 'a poor pregnant Omega' from the clutches of
     an evil man.
They’re finally past the city limits and well on their way to only Taylon knows
where, when Stiles has a sobering thought.
“What about Mari?” He asks, cold dread creeping down his spine. They left her
behind. In that city poised for a revolution. Theyleft her behind.
“She’ll be fine.” Taylon answers simply.
Stiles whips around in his seat to look incredulously at the Alpha, who is
reigning in the grey horse who’d faltered it’s rhythm at the unexpected
imbalance.
“Fine? Fine?! We left her in a city full of dangerous Alphas who have just had
their leader murdered and dishonourable lifestyles ruined and it’sfine?! You’re
an idiot.” Taylon just raises an eyebrow at his barrage of words, voice getting
more strident as he rants.
“She won’t be fine Taylon, she’ll be hiding in the castle away from complete
and utter reprobates while two forces clash for power. Are you really so naïve
as to think she’ll-”
“My sister won’t be hiding Stiles,” He cuts of the berating Omega,
“She’sleading them.” He finishes with a smug smile at the stunned look on
Stiles’ face.
Stiles turns back to face the right way in the saddle as he processes this new
information; tries to imagine the Mari they left behind with a Mari capable of
leading a battalion of men in battle. It takes surprisingly little to believe
it.
“And her name’s not Mari,” The Alpha continues behind him. “It’s Cora.”
===============================================================================
They find an inn on the edge of some unknown village at nightfall. The
innkeeper stays well away from Stiles when Taylon glares at him for getting too
close to the pregnant Omega.
“Wow, you’re a protective one aren’t you.” Stiles states once they’re shown to
a room with a bed, a lone double bed, and metal tub filled with warm water.
There are linens, drinking water and food laid out for them already. Stiles
can’t imagine how much this cost for the innkeeper to be so quick in preparing
their room.
“I can’t imagine what you’d be like if I was pregnant with your pups.” He quips
as he peruses the choice of food platters on the long table. There’s a loud
thud behind him and when he turns the Alpha is holding his shin where he’d
tripped over the metal tub.
“Well, you’re not.” The words are growled out with venom as Taylon rights
himself and strips off his armour.
Stiles tries not to look as the Alpha removes piece after piece of hardened
leather, the ties are loosened quickly and set aside in a neat pile to be
conditioned before they leave again at dawn. There’s the first hint of
abdominal muscles when Stiles remembers himself and turns back to the table
laden with food, stuffing his mouth with roasted quail and pork berry pie. He
hasn’t eaten this well in years.
Stiles keeps his attention on the food as he hears Taylon continuing to undress
behind him, the thin slices of spice cake become very interesting when a buckle
hits the floor. Water is sloshed into a small pail and cloths are used to
quickly clean Taylon’s body before he redresses in a simple tunic and soft
pants and leaves Stiles in the room alone to bathe.
He hooks a chair under the door handle and undresses quickly, before sinking
gratefully into the warm water. He doesn’t ask why he’s being given
preferential treatment in regards to be bathwater, but right now, with the weak
scented water lapping at his skin, he doesn’t care. Surely Taylon can spare a
few more coins to have another bath prepared if he so desired, so Stiles will
take what he can for now.
After scrubbing every inch of himself as much as he can he dries himself with a
clean towel. He dresses in the simple nightclothes and prepares his nightcap.
He takes a cup of water and drips the contents of a red flower bud into it, he
unhooks the chair from the door handle and drains the cup quickly, rinsing it
out with a little more clean water that gets dumped into the bath.
The headache hits immediately and he crawls into the bed with an extra blanket.
He removes the top linen blanket and makes a line down the centre with the
spare towels, separating his and Taylon’s territory for the night. The spare
blanket is taken to his side and the thinner one left for the Alpha. He lays
his head on the pillow and only tries to keep his eyes open until the Alpha
returns to their room, using the matching key in the lock to secure their space
for the night.
The Alpha removes his shoes quickly and looks torn between taking the armchair
or the bed for the night, but finally decides on the bed once he’s admired the
wall of towels separating the space. He blows out the wall candle before the
bed dips lightly as Taylon takes position facing him. The towel wall doesn’t
reach to the pillows so they can see each other in the dim moonlight as they
drift off to sleep.
Stiles is suddenly feeling emotional, the upheaval of the last 24 hours has
been a drain on everything. He slides a hand close to where the towel wall ends
at the pillows and hopes. The Alpha notices and raises his own hand to sit
close to the Omega’s. Stiles clutches at the other hand and lets out a relieved
breath at the contact. The warm weight that clings back in reassurance helps
him to relax further and be pulled into another dreamless sleep.
===============================================================================
The Alpha is still asleep when he wakes, breathing deeply on the opposite side
of the towel wall, their hands still linked by their fingers. He lays there a
moment, just looking at the Alpha. He looks so peaceful; the harsh frown lines
are smooth, and the firm set of his jaw is lax with sleep, the slight stubble
gives his skin a darker hue but is so well groomed that Stiles can’t help but
come to the conclusion that this man is high born. He either must be very
talented, or hold a title to have performed the task he did yesterday, and with
his sister also leading men the conclusion is almost foregone.
Stiles wonders why he’s travelling with such a man. An Omega pregnant with a
dead enemies pups, who has no strategic value nor wealth of information. The
only other reason he could be kept safe is the pregnancy. An honourable Alpha
wouldn’t leave a pregnant Omega in the middle of a war fray, and a man of
station would be looked upon favorably for rescuing 'a poor pregnant Omega'
from the clutches of an evil man.
He ponders this situation. As long as the pregnancy is in play, he may be able
to gather enough coin and resources to make his own way, leave whomever would
be tending to him and find a place to be at peace. Find a place for his
mother's memorial. Find his father.
Stiles lets go of the Alpha’s warm hand and rolls over to look at the weak
light shining through the high windows. He needs to be smart here. He hates the
prospect of deceiving someone like this, deceiving someone who has only shown
him kindness despite offering no substantial reward in return, but he has to
put his own welfare first.
Dawn has arrived when Stiles has finally dressed. He packs away most of the
food into his sack, wrapped in cloth and linen to keep it together. He’s just
refilling their waterskin’s when the Alpha wakes. He fills a cup with water and
stacks a plate with food; fresh fruit, cheese and leftover pie.
He brings the cup and plate to the bed which they share between them, the Alpha
groggy and gruff with sleep, not uttering a word beyond a muttered ‘thank
you’. They eat fairly quickly, and Taylon dresses in his leathers;
unconditioned as he neglected to care for them last night.
Less than an hour later they are back in the saddle of Taylon’s horse and
heading further away again.
After a few more hours of travel Stiles relaxes into the Alpha behind him, who
again tightens his arms around him in response. They stay that way until they
reach their destination.
Stiles almost has a heart attack and fumbles his dismounting of the horse when
the city gate guards announce a greeting to them, “Welcome home, Prince Hale.”
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Summary
     “Excellent, “The King responds, “And who’s this?”
     Pale blue eyes turn to Stiles, who feels a lick of cold thread down
     his spine. He wants to curl in on himself but forces his posture
     straighter, keeping his eyes trained low.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Stiles is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the man he’d been
travelling with, the man he’d shared a bed with last night, is aPrince. The
Prince who has his hand on the Omega’s back and is guiding him through
corridors while growling out answers to the incessant guard following them.
“Do you require medical treatment Your Highness?”
“No.”
“Will you be visiting the King now Your Highness?”
“Later.”
“Would you like me to show your companion to the guest quarters Your Highness?”
Taylon turns and the guard looks away under the Prince's glare.
“No, he stays with me.” Taylon’s grip becomes firmer with the statement and
marches them away from the guard, a possessive arm snaking around the Omega’s
waist.
He’s taken down a servant staircase into barracks that are half empty, the
soldiers are outside with their mounts preparing to ride for Scott’s new
kingdom. There is a lone soldier strapping on the final pieces of her armour
when they open the doors. She quickly abandons her task and rushes to meet them
at the door. She opens her mouth to speak but changes her words when she
notices Stiles.
“Your Highness, you’ve returned! What of Alpha McCall? Did all go to plan?” Her
questions come one after the other without pause for breath. Taylon holds up a
placating hand to still her trembling words.
“All went to plan Kira, McCall and Cora’s forces are well underway to securing
the city and territory.” Kira deflates and a nervous grin breaks her face as
she nods.
“Thank the gods. And thank you Prince, I’m sure he would have bumbled the entry
plan had he been the sole infiltrator.” Taylon grunts in agreement.
Kira turns to pick up her weapons, two of the same whips Stiles has seen before
on their soldiers, and leaves with a peck on the Prince’s cheek, a nod to
Stiles.
Stiles has been quiet since they entered the keep, thoughts taking form in his
mind, puzzle pieces now with the right connections finally fitting together.
Taylon turns to him now, realising Stiles is about to speak,
“Your name’s not Taylon is it?” He half accuses the Prince before him.
“No, Stiles it’s not.” He admits. He opens his mouth again to speak but is cut
off by the Omega,
“You’re Derek Hale, son of Richard Hale born Chaucer and Talia Hale, brother to
Cora Hale and Laura Hale, nephew to King Peter Hale. Prince of the Hale kingdom
and current heir to the throne.”
“Yes,” The Alpha nods as Stiles’ face turns to one of horror. “Stiles? What’s
wrong?”
“You’re a Prince!” Stiles hisses, fear and fury fighting for dominance in his
eyes, “I slept next to you, held your hand, rode on your horse and shared your
food. You-” He swallows audibly, lowering his eyes in deference to the Prince
as he realises his position, “I’m so sorry, My Lord. It is not my place to
question you.”
The Prince lets out a quick growl and grabs Stiles’ shoulders, “Don’t. Don’t
you dare defer to me.” His tone is angry, and scared?
Stiles still isn’t looking at him so the Alpha grips his chin and tilts his
head up to look him in the eye, “Stiles, please.”
The Omega does lift his gaze at the plea, looks into those green eyes shining
with cautious desperation, “Of course, My Lord.”
The hands leave his shoulders and a hard look crosses the Prince’s face, a
scowl Stiles tries not to flinch under. The Alpha turns abruptly and throws
open the barracks door,
“Follow.”
Stiles does, two steps behind as he’s lead back up the servant’s staircase and
through increasingly well decorated passages. They stop in front of carved
wooden double doors, inlaid with gold detailing and bearing the Hale crest of
downward facing arrows. Four guards are stationed outside; two women in black
leather with whips; and two men in chainmail, armed with scutums, lances and
broadswords at their waists. The women open the doors for the quickly marching
Prince and step inside to allow them entry, pulling the doors closed with a
quiet click when they leave.
Stiles finds himself in a throne room, complete with said throne, upon which
sits King Peter of the Hale Kingdom. He rises and approaches his nephew with
his arms outstretched,
“Derek! How wonderful it was to hear news of your success. A carrier pigeon
informed me your plan was executed even faster than we’d anticipated.” The
King’s smile is wide but lacking warmth. Prince Derek doesn’t respond to the
King’s open arms, which were clearly angling for an embrace, but instead are
now gently squeezing the Prince’s shoulders.
“Uncle.” Derek greets tersely, visibly relieved when the King’s touch is
removed. “Yes, the invasion went as well as we could have hoped for. The third
wave of forces are leaving soon, I have just spoken with Yukimura, her
battalion are mounted.”
“Excellent, “The King responds, “And who’s this?”
Pale blue eyes turn to Stiles, who feels a lick of cold thread down his spine.
He wants to curl in on himself but forces his posture straighter, keeping his
eyes trained low.
“This is Stiles,” Prince Derek starts, “He was Alpha Ennis’ most recent...
project.” The Prince’s jaw clenches. Stiles finds himself annoyed that he had
to find another way to describe him other than ‘breeder’.
The King grins at the Prince’s description of his latest role and runs
calculating eyes over the Omega's stature, not caring to disguise how he scents
the air for the scent of pregnant Omega. The King’s smile fades a little into a
condescending smirk,
“Yes well, I’m sure your assistance during the capture of Ennis’ territory
merits some reward.” He tilts his head in mock thought, “I do hope you will
accept our greatest thanks, and some coin upon your departure. It will
certainly be enough to live a comfortable life for someone in your position.”
The Prince is taking calming breaths beside him, seemingly angered. The King
doesn’t take notice, just stares at Stiles as though waiting for those eyes to
flick up to the King’s, waiting for insubordination. Stiles is shocked when
Prince Derek quickly speaks on Stiles’ behalf,
“He stays until he is ready to leave,” Only then does the King break his
attention from the Omega, a slightly shocked emotion flitting across his face.
“Stiles will be housed in the royal chambers adjacent to mine, and he will be
treated with the respect he deserves until he decides to leave.”
The King doesn’t say a word. His hand twitches as though he wishes to strike
his nephew for the vehement words, but only turns to retake his throne. He sits
and steeples his fingers, elbows resting on the padded arms,
“As you suggestPrince Derek, the pregnant Omega of our dead enemy will be
allowed respite for now.” There is a cold glint in the King’s eye as he
mockingly concedes to the Prince’s ‘suggestion’.
Stiles wants to crawl into a hole and cry, never before has he felt so
undervalued as he does under this man’s gaze, not even when being chosen as the
late Alpha Ennis’ next bed mate. It’s instantly recognizable that the King sat
before them is a carefully cruel man.
That cruel man waves a nonchalant had towards the entrance before them, “You
may leave now.”
Chapter End Notes
     A scutum is basically a Roman shield. They're mostly rectangular and
     curved inwards, large enough to hide behind in battle.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles looks at him with wide eyes, tears threatening to fall, a sob
     stuck in this throat, hands shaking by his sides.
     “I prefer you, Stiles.” He continues, moving closer to the disquieted
     Omega. “Only you.”
Chapter Notes
     Warning for some gruesome imagery - erotophonophilia? But not from
     any of the characters, it's merely an idea of what could have
     happened to Stiles.
It's evening by the time Stiles and Prince Derek are standing in the royal
guest chambers. Stiles is glancing around the room whilst trying not to look at
the Alpha who is shifting indecisively in the middle of the room. Finally he
sighs and addresses the Omega,
“I'll be in my chambers, in the next room. I'll send some servants with food
and to prepare your bath.” He points to a curtain covered alcove in the far
corner, “Through there is the bath and changing area, there are plenty of
clothes in different styles and sizes to choose from.”
He turns to leave but hesitates, “I'm sorry for my uncle’s rudeness.” He offers
in a quiet voice, silently pleading for the Omega to talk to him like he used
to.
But Stiles doesn't turn, only shrugs his shoulders and answers, “You have
nothing to apologise for, My Lord.”
He clenches his jaw and leaves the room with a barely disguised growl. He
catches two servants trying get out of the way of the scowling Alpha Prince,
but he barks at them to attend to their guest before retreating back to his own
quarters.
The door opens to find a half naked Omega girl dressed in a sheer gold robe lay
on his bed, her thighs parted and fingers playing with her opening. The smell
of her arousal is thick in the air, his cock stirs in his pants. He stalks
forward and grabs her arm, his eyes flare red and his fangs are bared as he
snarls at her in anger,
“Get out!” He almost bellows. The Omega girl whimpers in fear, baring her neck
as her eyes flash gold. She hurriedly collects the thicker robe discarded on
the ottoman and almost runs out of his sight.
He wrinkles his nose in distaste at the residual smell of Omega arousal when he
faceplants onto the bedding. He lets out a groan and rolls over to stare at the
ceiling, wondering why this defiant Omega is suddenly so detached now that the
secret of his heritage is known. Sure, they don’t really know each other but he
believes he doesn’t deserve this sardonic respect that is directed at him.
He gets up off the bed, stripping off his leathers and underclothes as he
enters the bathing area. His room’s layout is exactly the same as Stiles', as
it is supposed to be a guest chamber. His supposed chambers, the Prince of
Hale’s chambers, are on the other side of the castle with the King’s. After his
mother died when he was aged 15, and Peter ascended to the throne not long
after, he chose these smaller, simpler rooms and never returned to the ones
he'd had since birth. He has no need to be so close to the King.
He flexes his feet in the already filled tub (no doubt the servants were
immediately made aware of his return), before sinking fully into the perfumed
water. Normally he berates the servants for using to many fragrant oils in his
bathwater (really, who wants to smell like a garden), but tonight he is
grateful as it will help cure the stench of travel and horse. A coarsely woven
scrubbing mitten is used with his usual soap to slough off the dirt, his skin
angry red with the abuse.
When he’s dry and clothed in his usual daytime attire, he leaves for next door,
timidly knocking on the chamber doors for entry. The door is opened slowly at
first, amber eyes peering out inquisitively. Those eyes drop and a look of fear
crosses Stiles’ face as he’s allowed entry. The Omega's scent is is like tar,
thick and clinging to the back of his throat.
“Stiles, what’s the matter?” He enquires, immediately concerned that the Omega
is frightened.
Stiles is fidgeting with his new robe. He is freshly bathed, skin pink from
scrubbing like his own, but he isn’t relaxed in the slightest. He steps towards
the Omega but when Stiles flinches back it only makes him want to rush at him
faster, implore Stiles to tell him what’s wrong. But he doesn’t, he freezes,
cold dread trickling down his spine at the thought that his newest acquaintance
doesn’t trust him.
“What service do you require of me, My Lord?” the Omega says quietly, clear
voice in contrast to his nervous nature. He frowns, confused at the question,
“Service? Stiles, I don’t understand.” The Omega suddenly finds his feet and
walks quickly over to the bed, disrobing to reveal a long nightshirt.
“I do not know what you prefer My Lord, but I shall try to please you.” Stiles’
fingers fumble with the small ties over his chest. The Omega’s gaze lifts from
his task but doesn’t meet his eyes, “Do you have a preference?” He asks with a
weak voice.
He's concluded now what this conversation is referring to. Stiles' jumpy
nature; the removal of his robe in front of the bed; the knowledge that there
are two dinner plates the dining table instead of one; the fact that his Uncle
has come into this Omega’s chambers and implied he has a role to fulfil. It
takes all of his discipline not to let his eyes flash red and roar with rage.
“I prefer you clothed,” He grits out, teeth clenched. The Omega turns to him in
bewilderment. “I prefer you with a nights rest in a safe place, fed and sated.
I prefer you not to listen to my Uncle’s disgusting insinuations that you need
to repay the kindness shown to you.”
Stiles looks at him with wide eyes, tears threatening to fall, a sob stuck in
this throat, hands shaking by his sides.
“I preferyou, Stiles.” He continues, moving closer to the disquieted Omega,
speaking softly. “Only you.”
Stiles’ composure breaks and he sinks down on the bed, head in his hands,
shoulders shaking as he sobs out in relief. He approaches the shaking Omega and
gently touches his forearm. At the touch Stiles grabs his hand and holds it
tight, hugging it to his chest. He kneels on the bed beside Stiles and curls
himself around the Omega, a deep rumble in his chest in response to the
distress.
Stiles' sobs slow until his breathing is uninterrupted and even, only then does
he speak,
“Are you crooning me?” He falters, the rumble in his chest pausing as he
realises he had no right to assume he was allowed to.
“I’m sorry Stiles, do you want me to stop?”
“No,” The Omega bites his lip andfinally looks him in the eye, “I haven’t been
crooned since my mother died. The Alphas used their status to make us obey, and
Ennis used his call when he... you know. But I’d forgotten what it feels to be
crooned.” Stiles buries his nose into his chest and huffs his scent, letting
the resumed croon wash over his frayed nerves.
He thinks on what Stiles has just told him. Alphas asserting their dominance
isn’t a new thing by any means, but in his kingdom Alpha, Beta and Omega alike
bicker, assert and submit to each other regardless of dynamic. It’s about
respect, and who is right and wrong. Not the colour of their eyes. In places
like Ennis’ kingdom, Alphas treat Omegas with abhorrent disrespect. Using them
as breeding slaves, whores and entertainment. Betas are used as workhorses,
beaten and victimised if they don’t contribute enough. Alphas have everything
handed to them; dragging Betas and Omegas by the hair into their houses and
beds, then leaving them bleeding and broken; abusing their naturally increased
strength to intimidate, kill and ravage.
He’s both thankful and horrified that Ennis used his call on Stiles. On one
hand it means the Omega had been violated, his own body giving up the fight no
matter how defiant his mind wanted to be, producing slick at the Alpha’s
behest. On the other hand it meant Stiles was slick enough for their coupling,
he has no doubt Ennis wouldn’t have given the Omega leave to prepare himself.
He hates himself for thinking it was better the call was used on Stiles, it’s a
forbidden thing outside of Mates and the utter lack of control the Omega loses
over their body is sickening.
The only thing he can do is remain thankful that he got Stiles out of there
before Ennis’ lieutenants found their dead King’s Omega smelling pregnant, they
would have ripped out his womb then defiled him afterwards.
He closes his eyes and gently touches his nose to the now sleeping Omega’s
hair, breathing deep and reminding himself he’s safe here. Stiles is safe with
him.
He manoeuvres the sleeping body from his chest and lays him down over the
bedding, covering him with other half of the blanket. He so desperately wants
to bend down and rub his scent all over the sleeping Omega, but he can’t. He
doesn’t have that right.
As he leaves Stiles’ chambers he realises that, for the first time in his life,
he wishes he did.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles pursed his lips in thought. He had no station here, he had
     nothing. While he believed he wouldn’t be thrown out into the mud if
     he angered Derek, he still wanted him on his side. Wanted his
     friendship. But as he continued to look at the Prince he realised
     there was no amusement for an Omega having an opinion, he wasn’t
     waiting to disprove him, he was genuine.
Chapter Notes
     The plot thickens, and the title is explained. XD
Stiles had awoken very well rested this morning. Beautiful sunlight shining
through the curtains and bathing the luxurious room in a golden glow. He felt
warm, safe and as happy as he could be right now.
His groggy mind keeps replaying the sound, the feeling of the Alpha Prince
crooning him while he wept. It was an intense feeling being crooned; the deep
rumble washes over every sensation, his primal Omega purring in contentment
that an Alpha is here to protect them, shield them from everything that would
cause them harm.
He’s saddened to think that it was the first time in over two years since he’d
felt that. But it was different with the Prince. His mother’s croon was light
and cheerful, a brightness that shone inside to drive away the dark. The Alpha
Prince’s croon is thick like a shroud, a warm blanket that lay over frayed
nerves and built a wall from his own dark thoughts, a smoke that surrounded his
heart and helped it beat.
There’s a stirring in his chest, a need to repay the Alpha, an Omegan need to
care for him; to offer him food; massage his muscles; scent him. He tamps down
on that feeling, it’s not needed, or appreciated. Not wanted.
Stiles feels like crying again when he remembers the Alpha’s actions, his
refusal to bed him, his utter disgust at his Uncle's veiled words. He had
refused to believe the Prince’s revulsion for a few seconds, but quickly
allowing himself to scent the Alpha had revealed the truth; a scent as sharp as
lemon that made his Omega whine in displeasure at the Alpha’s repugnance, it
didn’t understand the emotion wasn’t directed at Stiles.
He didn’t feel shame for falling asleep under the Alpha’s attentions, curled
into his chest and shallowly scenting him, the now familiar smell warming his
bones. He does feel safe with the Alpha Prince, last night was a fluke. King
Peter’s twisted words took up residence in his mind, played on every fear that
he could dream up; fears that were planted by Ennis’ hand and touch.
There was a knock on the door. Stiles sat up and frowned,
“Who is it?” The door cracked open a few inches, the visitor's back facing
inwards in case he was indecent,
“It’s Derek. May I come in? I have breakfast.” There was more warmth in his
voice than Stiles had ever heard before, his chest fluttered.
“Yes, you may enter My Lord.” He replied, gathering his bedclothes and securing
the thicker robe around himself. He quickly tidied the bedding and shuffled
over to where the Prince had placed a large tray onto the table with an annoyed
huff. Stiles raised an eyebrow as he took a seat,
“Are you alright My Lord?” The Prince looked at him,
“Would you please stop calling me that?” Stiles frowned taking an offered plate
of food,
“You would not have me call you ‘My Lord’, My Lord?” The Alpha growled low in
annoyance, taking his own seat opposite with his own plate.
“No.”
“Well, what shall I call you then My-” Stiles’ reply was cut off,
“My name would be a start.” The Alpha said with a huff.
Stiles inclined his head in acceptance, “Of course, Prince Derek.”
A fork clattered on the table as the Prince groaned and rubbed his face with
his hand,
“No titles, no honorifics, no mentions of my station at all. Okay Stiles?
Derek, just Derek.”
“Just Derek?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then, Just Derek.” Stiles quipped with a smirk, raising his cup to
smiling lips.
Just Derek grinned back.
Stiles almost choked.
===============================================================================
Derek had told him over their shared breakfast that he would have to attend a
lot of council meetings today. They would be discussing various matters, but
now that he has returned victorious with Alpha Scott’s lands secured he would
be needed in order to validate treaties.
This was how Stiles learned that the new McCall kingdom is in fact a puppet.
“Peter only agreed that McCall could be the one to challenge Ennis if he agreed
to allow the new kingdom to be a vassal state.” Derek had disclosed to him.
“But the military forces that helped take over the territory belong to King
Peter. If Scott refuses him anything; coin, men, land, or a shared opinion,
Scott would be in danger of losing it all to other outside forces, or King
Peter himself by invasion. Why would Scott agree to that?”
“I don’t know,” Derek answered with a shrug of his shoulders, lifting his cup
to drink. “I know Peter has taken him under his wing lately, sought him out
from when he was just a foot soldier and quickly helped him become a General.”
Stiles’ eyes narrowed, he didn't believe Derek didn't know Scott's reason for
accepting the role as a false King. He looked down at his half eaten breakfast,
pushing small tomatoes back and forth with his fork.
“What?” Stiles looked up at Derek’s question and frowned in confusion,
“Your opinion,” Derek clarified, “What is it?”
Stiles pursed his lips in thought. He had no station here, he had nothing.
While he believed he wouldn’t be thrown out into the mud if he angered Derek,
he still wanted him on his side. Wanted his friendship. But as he continued to
look at the Prince he realised there was no amusement for an Omega having an
opinion, he wasn’t waiting to disprove him, he was genuine.
“Scott was groomed.” Stiles finally responded. Derek only nodded.
“He was groomed to a position where it wouldn’t be unusual for him to challenge
the Alpha of another territory," Stiles took a breath before continuing, "but
his opinions and control of that land are shackled to his own fate. If he
crosses the King he will lose everything.”
Their breakfast of sliced meats, cheese, bread and fruits was discarded in
favour of conversation. Stiles sat back and regarded Derek with a lazy
expression,
“Were you not bitter you didn’t get it for yourself? After all, if Peter has a
child you won’t be the heir of the Hale kingdom anymore.”
To say it wasn’t a question that could rupture their burgeoning friendship
would be a lie, but Stiles thought he knew by now that there was more than
meets the eye when it comes to the Royals in the castle.
“No, I’m not bitter Stiles,” Derek said with a laugh, “I have everything I
need, don’t I?” He finished in a dark tone.
Stiles quietly sipped his drink, Derek doing to same. Both regarding the other
over the table as though they were keeping a silent conversation.
Eventually Stiles broke that silence; Derek’s face went cold when he heard the
words.
“Except your kingdom, Shadow King.”
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek sighed and tilted his head away, exposing his neck in
     submission. Stiles licked his lips and stroked his hand lightly up
     the skin, curling his fingers around the back of the Alpha’s neck,
     his thumb brushing a racing pulse. His chest fluttered as he leant
     forward, brushing his cheek against the Alpha’s and melting into him
     at the responding croon.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Stiles had expected fury, dismissal, derogatory words to insult his
intelligence, to be told he didn’t know what he was talking about. He’d
expected violence, threats or bribes.
He didn’t expect a servant to walk in.
“Your Highness, may I take remove your breakfast trays?” The servant girl gave
a small curtsey and weak smile, she clearly sensed the tension in the room.
Neither of them moved, still sat staring at each other over the table,
clutching cups and the air getting thicker with the sharp scent of anger.
“Erm, Your Highness?” The servant nervously enquired again.
“Out.” Derek ground out. He slammed the cup on the table and stood up, his
chair thrown back a few inches. The servant girl flinched and almost ran when
Derek stormed over to the door, eyes blazed red and an expression of thunder.
“Get out. Now.” His voice was stone cold fury. As soon as the servant left the
room he slammed the door shut, turned the lock and directed his gaze back to
the Omega.
Stiles had fucked up. Oh, he had fucked up badly.
“Derek-”
“Don’t.”
Stiles licked his lips and carefully placed his cup on the table before getting
up and facing the Alpha.
“Derek, please.”
“You’re exceedingly intelligent for an Omega who has spent the past two years
being trained to be a warm body to fuck.” The words cut deep into Stiles. “My
Uncle has stolen my kingdom, and sent me along with McCall to claim another.
Now you’re sat here, smiling, joking, and prompting a discussion about my
station.”
The Alpha was stalking closer and closer to Stiles, who stood his ground and
tried not to look away from those glowing red eyes.
“You expect me to believe you’re not a spy.” Stiles frowned,
“What?”
Derek growled low in his throat, “Don’t lie to me Omega.”
“I’m not! I’m not a spy. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar!”
Derek was so close that the scent of fury rolling off him was making Stiles’
eyes glow gold.
“I’m not a spy, Derek.” Stiles held out his wrist to the Alpha, “Scent me, let
that tell you the truth.”
The Prince glanced at the offered wrist, before taking it gently in his hand
and scraping dull teeth over the delicate skin. Stiles’ eyes burned brighter,
his Omega wanted to writhe on the floor at this Alpha’s feet in submission.
More of Stiles’ scent permeated the air between them, revealing his truest
emotions. Stiles’ scent of warm honey and clove swelled in the air around them.
When the Omega spoke again, Derek knew it was the truth.
“I’m not a spy Alpha.”
Derek dropped Stiles’ wrist and sunk to the floor, collapsing with a whine from
his throat,
“By the gods, I’m so sorry. I never wanted it to be a lie, I never wanted to
suspect that of you.”
Stiles knelt down next to the penitent Alpha, carefully placing a hand on the
Prince’s shoulder. Derek sighed and tilted his head away, exposing his neck in
submission. Stiles licked his lips and stroked his hand lightly up the skin,
curling his fingers around the back of the Alpha’s neck, his thumb brushing a
racing pulse. His chest fluttered as he leant forward, brushing his cheek
against the Alpha’s and melting into him at the responding croon.
Arms circled him tentatively, questioningly. Stiles turned his nose to scent
Derek’s neck and straddled the Alpha’s lap, hands roaming across muscled
shoulders, fingers playing in his hair, skin rubbing against each other as they
calmed down with the scenting. When they had finally composed themselves, their
scents were truly mixed.
They were quiet, breathing each other in. Roaming hands had turned to soft
touches and slight shifting for a more comfortable position.
“How do you know I’m a Shadow King?” Derek asks.
“I put it together, but I wasn’t truly sure until you responded the way you
did.” Stiles leaned back to look the Alpha in the eye, “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to make you so angry.”
Derek tightened his hold on the Omega and ran his nose lightly along the soft
skin of Stiles’ jaw,
“It’s alright.” He sighs, “It’s just- I’ve been cut out by Peter. He was King
Regent in my stead because I was too young to rule, and too distraught by my
mother’s death to be crowned. But when I did come of age I still wasn’t able to
rule, I hadn’t grown up enough. So Peter and I, along with the privy council,
made an arrangement that he would continue as Regent until I was deemed fit.
Until then I would remain a Shadow King, making decisions alongside the privy
council in the background. Decisions I gladly seceded to Peter. I trusted him.”
He paused as he shuffled them over to lean against the end of the bed, pulling
a pillow down for Stiles to place between him and the Alpha’s lap.
“Not long after that arrangement, Peter saw fit to dissolve the privy council.”
Derek continues, “They were paid off, bribed. So they would never speak of the
fact Peter isn’t the rightful King. Even after I went behind Peter’s back to
reinstate the privy council with new members, I couldn’t devise a way to make
them believe the truth that I am King, not him. I would just appear a usurper.”
Stiles thinks for a moment and fiddles with one of the Alpha’s buttons,
“Surely there are documents for this? Letters from the late Queen naming you
successor?”
Derek shakes his head, “I can’t find them. They’re lost.”
“They were made lost.” Stiles corrects. The Alpha nods.
“I’ve tried so much Stiles,” Derek’s voice cracks over the words, tears well in
his eyes, “I can’t find any proof that I’m the legitimate ruler, my allies have
found nothing but dead ends, and Peter mocks my every move.” He buries his face
in Stiles chest, “I’m so scared. I’m scared of what Peter will do to my
people.”
Stiles holds the weeping Alpha, running his hands over all the skin he can
reach, humming in his ear; his Omegan instinct takes over for a moment as he
peppers gentle kisses wherever he can reach, temple, cheek, nose, chin, lips.
He pauses.
A hand curls around his neck, massaging the muscle as bright gold and burning
red eyes stare at each other. Just holding the other’s gaze as they feel all
they are flit between them. They let the moment pass, it isn’t the right time.
Not yet.
===============================================================================
They unravel from each other an hour later as the sun draws higher, casting
warm rays that bathe their changed relationship. They don’t speak of it, but
hold each other’s hands, tactile touches as they move around, a connection
clicking into place as they lock eyes.
“I have to go,” Derek whispers into Stiles’ hair as he holds him close, “The
privy council are waiting, they’ll only tolerate so much. I need their favour,
no matter how small it is.”
Stiles hums into the Alpha’s chest, rubbing his cheek over the soft embroidered
cloth. “You need your people’s favour.” He raises his gaze to Derek's, “We need
to show the kingdom that you are the better choice over Peter, and that you are
the rightful King.”
“We?” Derek chokes out, suddenly struck with emotion; hope.
“Yes, we.” The look of conviction in the Omega’s eyes makes Derek want to weep
with joy. “You saved my life when you rescued me from Ennis’ lands, let me
repay that by helping you to save your lands.”
Stiles hand curls around the Alpha’s neck and pulls him down to touch their
foreheads together, “Let me help you, My Shadow King.”
Chapter End Notes
     Kings and Queens and Vagabonds by Ellem has been stuck in my head, on
     repeat, while I write this. I don't know why, it's not overly
     relevant.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek is pitied and belittled, Stiles initiates a rebellion, and a
     truth is almost revealed.
     "As he shuts the privy council chamber door behind him all activity
     inside the room stops. His steps halt as he realises they’re staring
     at him, it takes a moment to understand why; he’s grinning."
There’s heaviness in Derek’s chest as he leaves the Omega’s chambers. It isn’t
a dark weight, but a grounding pressure. Something to settle him, something to
cherish and let flourish. It’s the first time he’s felt this. Sure he has
allies, acquaintances, friends. But this. This is the tentative potential of
companionship.
Stiles had allowed Derek to croon him twice, use his teeth to expose the
Omega’s scent, and they’d just scent marked each other. Stiles is walking
around absolutely bathed in his scent, so everyone else knows who had been
worthy of being close to the Omega.
Derek gets a thrill every time someone passes him in the hallway as he makes
his way to the privy council chambers; they falter in their steps and
reflexively breathe deep, their eyes going wide. The virgin Prince covered in
Omega scent will be the focus of the kingdom’s gossip by day’s end.
As he shuts the privy council chamber door behind him all activity inside the
room stops. His steps halt as he realises they’re staring at him, it takes a
moment to understand why; he’s grinning. Immediately he loses the grin and
adopts his usual scowl as he takes his seat next to Peter, who curls his lip in
disgust. Derek frowns; didn’t Peter pressure Stiles to try and bed him anyway?
He purses his lips and turns his attention to the magnitude of documents piled
on the central table; taxation increments; crop regulation; military drafts;
executions.
Derek throws a sharp look at Peter and thrusts the execution order at him,
“What is this?!” He spits out with a growl.
Peter takes the parchment between finger and thumb as though it’s diseased and
simply answers, “Extermination.”
Derek growls low in his throat. Peter throws the offending document thrown onto
the table once more.
“Who are you killing now?” Derek demands.
Peter turns a hard stare to his nephew. “Just a peasant who thought to question
his King.”
Derek turns away from his Uncle and clenches his jaw, any rebuttal now would
only further damage his own reputation with the privy council. He and Peter can
only snipe at each other behind closed doors without affecting their advisers'
(and the public’s) opinion. Right now any retaliation could give them the
opinion he is not much more than a querulous child.
Peter smirks at gaining the upper hand and finally grants his attention to the
adviser who’s been trying to gain it for several minutes.
Derek takes the execution order from the table again and notes the details of
who this man is; name, date of birth, citizenship, dynamic, and the reason and
date of his upcoming execution. He’s relieved to find that it’s still three
weeks until the prisoner has his date with death, so it’ll give Derek plenty of
time to talk with him.
He won’t allow Peter to let his people die without explanation, whether through
negligence or the headman’s axe.
===============================================================================
It’s four hours later when Derek can finally leave the privy council chambers.
He’s hungry, thirsty, tired and furious. He spent the entire time being shut
out by Peter; mocked for every suggestion he puts forth; given pitiful looks by
the advisers as though he hasn’t the intelligence to keep up; smirked at
whenever a document required the signature of the King to be valid. Derek wants
to kill something.
He’d planned to go to the kitchens and bring food to Stiles’ chambers to eat
while they talked, but instead he redirects to the gardens; he needs fresh air
to clear his head first.
Derek walks aimlessly through the trees following the small river to the West,
yellow petals floating on its surface as it flows sluggishly downhill. He walks
over to the bank and takes off his boots, standing on a rock and dipping his
feet in the water. Some tension starts to leave his body as the cool water
soothes hot skin. He cracks his toes and ankle bones as he stretches his feet
but is suddenly struck by immense guilt. Stiles.He needs to bring him out here.
The Omega hasn’t had a lick of freedom for years. Even now he’s little more
than a prisoner in his chambers.
As Derek returns to the castle he comes by the kitchen’s plot, a twenty metre
square patch of land that plays host to fragrant herbs and vegetables. He takes
a moment to identify each plant, wondering if the kitchens will let him prepare
and cook a meal for Stiles; hunt fresh meat with his own weapons; dig up
vegetables and gather herbs with his bare hands; obtain fresh water from the
well to make a thick stew; pummel bread dough into a loaf to bake and carve
their initials into the surface. His Alpha thrums in pleasure at the thought of
the Omega being sustained by his efforts. Being praised by Stiles is a greatest
personal honour he wants to achieve.
He can’t explain it yet, but there’s something warm inside the Omega that
hasn’t been extinguished by his ordeals. Something fierce and ancient in his
eyes that promises pain to whomever harms those he loves. Something light and
pure that wraps around you like a cloak when he laughs. There is a yearning for
life and a promise of acceptance in Stiles. Derek feels humbled just to be in
his presence.
Derek is distracted from his thoughts when he spies small weed-like plants
interspersed with the vegetables. Red pods that fade to yellow and unripe
green, each plant holding it’s fruit like a bunch of tapered grapes. He
inspects them closer. In their natural habitat he recognises it now.
They’re definitely what Stiles had in his chambers while he was in Ennis’
lands.
===============================================================================
Stiles is finishing choosing today’s clothing. Unhooking the last garment, a
dark blue embroidered doublet, he spreads it out over the bed linen next to
others he has chosen. It’s a beautiful fabric that fits slim to his form,
stopping just after his hips, stitched with fine silver thread that catches the
sunlight. It accents the light grey trousers and dark leather boots he’d found
in the rear of the closet, seemingly cast aside as they are of lesser quality
than the others. But for Stiles they’re a comfort. Ordinary clothing he’s grown
up with and had been refused basic access to for years.
A servant had come to fill his bath and take away the breakfast dishes, the
same boy who had filled his bath the first time, who is now casting curious
glances at him. Stiles tried not to notice, tried not to let it linger in this
thoughts as to why he’s being scrutinised. Has the King ordered them to spy on
him? Are they curious about the pregnant Omega of a dead enemy Alpha? Is it
something worse? His whirlwind thoughts finally spill out of his mouth when the
servant watches him for a little too long.
“What?” He demands, turning fully to face the tall, curly haired servant. The
boy startles and fumbles a plate, dropping the small amount of leftovers onto
the floor.
“Shit!” He exclaims, diving after the fallen food before looking up again from
the floor, horrified and apologetic. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to curse, My
Lord.”
Stiles is taken aback, utterly shocked. “I- No- Don’t-” He takes a deep breath,
loosening the coil in his throat. “I’m not a lord.”
“I’m sorry, My-” The servant cuts off, mouth working around voiceless words
trying to decide how to address the Omega.
“I don’t havea title. Just call me Stiles.” He huffs.
The boy frowns, “But you’re the Prince’s Consort. Surely-”
Stiles can’t help it, he laughs. “The Prince’s what?! Oh Gods, that’s not even
close to the truth.” Stiles paces between the bed and the window, trying to
find the words to explain just what he is to Derek. But that us also a problem,
even Stiles doesn’t know what that is.
“I’m not a Consort, nor a prostitute, nor a courtesan. I’m nobody, nothing.”
“But you’re pregnant with his child, yes?”
Stiles’ blood freezes in his veins. Is that what the castle servants think?
That Stiles is some poor Omega who spread their legs for the Prince of Hale and
is now being housed like a mistress, like a shameful secret. A sudden
understanding cements a plan in his mind, he just hopes Derek won’t kill him
for it.
He turns to the servant, kneeling down and grasping his hands, eyes pleading
and voice desperate, “You can’tsay anything.” He implores the boy, “Do you
understand? The King will kick me out as soon as I am not pregnant.”
The servant frowns and looks down to Stiles’ stomach, “But what of the baby?
Surely you’d be needed to rear the child?”
Stiles drops the servant’s hands and fidgets with his robe shaking his head. “I
don’t know,” He admits. “He’s tried to manipulate Derek and I before.” Stiles
readily uses Derek’s name instead of his title, enforcing the lie that they’re
in a more intimate relationship. “The King would not approve of this.” Stiles
gestures to himself, “He thinks that- That Derek isn’t-” He bites his lip and
sucks in a shaky breath.
“That Derek isn’t the father?” The servant fills in for him. Stiles nods his
head.
They sit in silence for a moment, still knelt on the floor with the spilled
food. The servant absorbing the new information, Stiles hating himself for this
deception.
“What can I do?” The boy says, looking at Stiles with a bold expression. “The
King shouldn’t be able to separate a child from their parent without cause.
It’s cruel.” The boy’s words are thick with personal experience and Stiles
hates himself a little more.
“The King will not be kind if he thinks Derek has a child,” Stiles implores.
“He would not allow an heir to live, as it would not be his own.” Understanding
settles in the servant’s eyes, a nervous anger taking root; one which Stiles
seeks to develop.
“We need something to argue the King,” Stiles says hesitantly, careful not to
push too far, this is treason after all. “We need something that the King would
not like to make public.”
“You wish to-” The servant hisses quietly, cutting off when he realises his
words could be overheard. “You want to do that to the King?” The servant looks
frightened now, as he should be when one talks of such matters.
Stiles sighs and gives a weak smile, clutching the servant’s hand tighter for a
moment before letting go. “Do not put yourself in harm's way, I would not see
you punished for trying to help an unborn child. Think no more of it.” Stiles
stands and wanders over to the bathing area. “We should not speak of this
anymore.” He dismisses the servant in a gentle whisper.
The servant’s lips purse as he prepares to question Stiles further, but is
stopped when there is a knock on the chamber door. Stiles smiles at the
familiar pattern as the door opens to reveal Derek, chilled air having left a
light flush on his skin, eyes seeking out Stiles immediately; his posture
softening when he sees him standing in the sunlight. The servant hastily
removes the debris from the floor and backs from the room, throwing Stiles a
wary smile and a nod as he retreats.
Derek seems to be in a strange mood; disgruntled and apprehensive but warm. He
stands in the middle of the room, clutching a small cloth, feet wanting to
shift nervously. “What’s that?” Stiles enquires as he approaches, nodding to
the small bundle in Derek’s hand.
Derek’s eyes search Stiles’ face before carefully unrolling the cloth, “Douglas
Milkvetch,” He answers. Stiles’ heart sinks, dread trickles down his spine.
He’s confused as Derek watches him, no anger or disgust mar his expression,
only acceptance and lo-
“We need to talk.”
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Summary
     "He smells frightened.
     “Talk about what?” Stiles says stiffly.
     Derek holds the pods higher, Stiles’ eyes follow the movement and
     flicker with worry.
     “These, Stiles.” Derek replies. “I recognise the scent now, the scent
     you’ve carried since we met.”"
Chapter Notes
     Warning in end note about blunt word usage.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
A muscle ticks in Stiles’ jaw when Derek says the words. His posture becomes
simultaneously still and vibrating with the need to move, to flee. He smells
frightened.
“Talk about what?” Stiles says stiffly.
Derek holds the pods higher, Stiles’ eyes follow the movement and flicker with
worry.
“These, Stiles,” Derek replies. “I recognise the scent now, the scent you’ve
carried since we met.”
Derek looks down and away. He licks his lips to wet them. “When I was young my
mother taught me about these, I’d forgotten until I saw them again. She told me
about how Omegas can use the natural reaction it gives them to trick people
into believing they're pregnant, that it changes their scent.”
Derek looks up at Stiles when a waft of sheer terror permeates the air. He
takes a step forward, instinct wanting to comfort the Omega he’s starting to
feel is his. But Stiles holds his hands up, backs away his own step.
“Stiles, I- I need to ask; are you actually pregnant?”
Stiles’ eyes are wide, tears building fast and falling thick down his cheeks.
His breathing is fast, heartbeat rabbiting in his chest and body shaking with
terror. He whines low and his eyes glow gold, an unconscious Omegan response to
try an placate what he perceives to be an angry Alpha.
Derek’s chest rumbles automatically at the sound and he strides forward,
flowers discarded on the floor, to scoop the shaking Omega into his arms. He
cradled Stiles to his chest, hears ‘sorry’s murmured quickly and desperately
against his chest. Stiles’ hands twitch at his sides, warring with the need to
push Derek away or to clutch him close.
The scent of Stiles’ fear makes Derek’s nose itch. He tilts his head and
cradles Stiles’ to direct him to scent Derek. Scent the lack of anger or
disgust at the use of the Milkvetch. Stiles sags into Derek, finally curls his
hands in the back of Derek’s shirt and clings, sobs wracking his body as he
pours it all out onto Derek’s chest.
They stay like that until Stiles’ breathing calms, his scent losing most of the
tangy edge. Derek directs them to the lounge chair hidden in the corner, lays
out on his back and pulls Stiles over him, keeping one warm hand on his back
and the other on his neck, squeezing gently in reassurance.
Stiles stays very still, breathing softly, almost asleep if it wasn’t for the
rhythmic sweeping of his eyelids over his still glowing eyes. Derek starts a
croon and Stiles crumbles into him, a shaky breathe the final tension released
as he finally succumbs to sleep.
Derek just keeps hold of him.
===============================================================================
When Stiles wakes up, it’s to Derek slowly carrying in a tray of food from the
kitchens. The cooks had been baffled when Derek asked where everything is and
if he could prepare some food. Derek had stammered, “For my Omega....”, unsure
if the possessive use was appropriate or even true. It got him what he wanted
though, a clean worktop and the ingredients to prepare the meal.
He’d sliced lamb very finely and slowly cooked it in the oven on a bed of red
potatoes and onions, leeks and carrots braising in a dish next to them.
Everything was then added to fresh water in a pot with herbs and salt until a
thick stew bubbled gently.
He’d pounded bread dough into small loaves, baking them off in the oven until
they reached a golden rise. Derek had to restrain himself from carving their
initials into the loaves. The act possibly much too intimate for Stiles right
now.
Derek ladled the stew into deep bowls and arranged the loaves to the sides.
Finished the tray with a pitcher of fruited water and lemon candies he’d taken
from his stash of his mother’s possessions. They were her favourite, and never
told anyone else where she'd procured them. Derek has kept them hidden away,
sneaking one when he needs the comfort of his mother, the lemony scent a balm
that wraps around frayed nerves. He hopes Stiles will like them.
The scent of the warm stew makes Stiles stir quickly, heart giving hard thuds
when he wakes up different to how he fell asleep. He’s curled in the bed,
blankets askew and hair sticking up. Derek bites his lip and forces his scent
not to give off the sheer attraction for Stiles he knows it would. He would
give so much to be able to curl up beside Stiles and smooth his hair down.
Instead, he places the tray on the table under Stiles’ wary gaze. “I made us
food.” He says.
Stiles’ eyebrow rises, “You made us food? You?”
Derek flushes a little and nods. Taking the lids from the bowls and letting the
steam rise. Stiles kicks the covers off his legs, wobbles slightly out of the
bed and approaches the table. He looks intently at the food laid out before
him, sees the slightly misshapen loaves that are far from the perfect ones he
usually dines on at the palace. A small, hesitant smile touches his lips.
“You cooked for me?” He asks shyly, making eye contact with Derek.
Derek wants to shrug it off, wants to say for them, wants to not pressure
Stiles in any way. But he can’t not agree, can’t not let Stiles know that this
is for him and for no one else.
“Yes,” Derek answers bluntly. He’s rewarded with a pleased hum both from Stiles
and Stiles’ scent.
They sit across from each other at the table, Stiles not even waiting for Derek
to serve their drinks before dipping a torn hunk of bread deep into the stew.
He moans gently when he tastes it for the first time and Derek feels so
immensely thrilled he’s positive he’s radiant. He dips his own spoon into the
meal and begins to eat.
It’s quiet, the clinking of cutlery and glassware the only noises besides
Stiles very satisfied sigh when he finally mops the last of the liquid from his
bowl. Stiles doesn’t even pause to glance at Derek as he stands and drags the
topmost bedding layer over to the lounge chair. He sprawls, long and lean over
it, snuggles deep into the bedding and blinks at Derek slowly.
“I guess I should explain my actions,” Stiles says.
Derek licks his lips and puts down his spoon, “If you wish too, you don’t owe
me an explanation”.
Disbelief flashes across Stiles’ face. “Of course I do. You saved my life, fed
me, clothed me, gave me shelter even though I had little to offer and refused
when I did. You saved my life.” Stiles looks away, “And I lied to you, Derek.”
Derek is silent for a moment, considering. He’s always considered lying by
omission as still lying, but this is a difficult situation. Stiles never
outright told him a lie, just never corrected him. And he wasn’t doing it
maliciously, he was doing it out of fear and self-preservation.
“I don’t see it as lying, Stiles.” He finally replies, and Stiles scowls.
“Regardless of what you see it as, it’s still the truth.” Stiles sighs. “You
can guess what happened the day I was chosen by Alpha Ennis,” Derek nods, not
needing nor wanting to hear it if Stiles doesn’t wish to talk about it. “He
chose me and... used me for that purpose. He believed he had succeeded, and
after hearing about what he did to his previously failed choices... I found
those pods and made a choice.”
Stiles pulls the bedding off his legs, suddenly too warm and flushed to bear
it. He fidgets and runs his fingers through his hair, sitting up in the lounge
chair and gathering his next words.
“They were poisoning me, you know. The pods. They were slowly killing me.”
Derek’s eyes widen and cold crawls through his veins. He hadn’t known that, had
no idea that what Stiles was doing was harming him. “I’d accepted it. I knew
that if I wasn’t pregnant anyway that I’d die. I was almost resigned to the
slow death of the poisoning. At least I could die slow and numb in the end,
instead of being beaten and raped to death once Ennis figured it out.”
Derek closes his eyes, tears springing quickly at the choice this brave,
wonderful person in front of him had to make at such a young age. The choice
between deaths the only thing he had.
“I did have a slight hope though, of finding a way out.” Stiles continues,
tears in his own eyes as he looks intensely at Derek. “You gave me that, Derek.
I owe you everything, my life, my loyalty, my body.” Stiles’ voice cracks at
the end, he lets out a wet sob and breaks, “And I want to give it to you Derek,
I know we haven’t known each other long and really I shouldn’t latch onto the
first kind person afterwards, but by the Gods Derek, you’re beautiful in every
way.”
Derek stands and moves over to Stiles slowly, his heart simultaneously breaking
and glowing with warmth. “Stiles you don’t owe me those things. Give them if
you want, I would accept. Accept them with relish and hold them so dearly. I
cherish you, you’re brave and smart, beautiful and bold. I want you to me
mine,” He breathes deeply, closes his eyes for a moment before closing the
final distance between them, holds their foreheads together and stares into
Stiles’ eyes, “My Omega, but I need to earn it from you. Not take what you may
think I have ownership over.”
Stiles surges forwards, presses their mouths together hard, slips his tongue
into Derek’s open mouth. It’s hot, wet and deep. They kiss for a few minutes,
revelling in the closeness, the release and feel of them together. It’s
euphoric, a safe, dizzying intimacy they both desperately need.
They break apart and breathe hard, a giggle erupts from Stiles and he tries to
stifle the next. Derek can’t help but join in. They laugh like they’re crazy
even though there’s nothing worth laughing about. It’s just the sheer release
of tension and truth between them that has them acting like idiots and
clutching at each other.
Derek slowly manoeuvres Stiles on his side and slots down facing him, twines
their legs together and uses his arm as a pillow for Stiles’ head. They nuzzle
and share pecked kisses to foreheads, cheeks and lips, basking in the calm now.
After an hour or so, when the sun is finally going down, Stiles stretches and
turns over, wiggling back into Derek’s chest. He sighs deeply.
“I guess we need to tell Peter.”
Derek stiffens for a moment, then pulls Stiles in harder and gruffly replies,
“No, we don’t”.
Chapter End Notes
     Warning for Stiles' blunt usage of "raped to death" to describe the
     situation he may have been placed in previously.
End Notes
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