Rating: PG-13

Characters: Stiles, Derek, Scott

Summary: Medieval AU where Derek is locked in a dungeon after been found out as a werewolf.


Freedom


Derek tensed when the two sets of footsteps registered as being the wrong beat from his usual guards. The heavy door at the base of the dungeon staircase creaked open and then thudded dully shut. There were hushed voices and then a torch was lit. Derek covered his face with his arm, his eyes not used to adjusting to light after a month locked in darkness. The first set of bar doors opened and he peeked up from the bend of his elbow in surprise. it was long past supper time and there was no other reason for the guards to enter his cage.

"If we're found out as a result of your dallying, I will be fiercely angry," warned a strangely familiar voice in a hiss.

"Spare me your complaints," came the hushed defense of another whose voice was also familiar, "each lock has a different key!"

Derek heard the telling jangle of said keys before the second set of bar doors creaked open. Jumping to his feet, Derek flashed his eyes red in the dark, muscles bunching as he readied himself for the third set of bar doors to open. He couldn't see them yet, wood and metal still barring him in, but the light grew stronger through the bars in the door.

He heard the soft thud of something hitting the floor and the second voice cursing. They had probably dropped the keys. Obviously, they were incompetent idiots, whoever they were. Derek could possibly outsmart and overpower them to make his escape once they opened the third set of metal bars.

He lowered his stance, ready to jump them as the lock turned and the door pushed open to reveal….

"Scott?" asked Derek in surprise all the fight going out of him.

"Sweet Mother Mary, Derek," exclaimed Stiles, stepping in behind Scott. "You look like shit and… is that smell coming from you?"

Derek gave Stiles a deadpan look that the kid probably couldn't see by the flickering light of the torch anyway. Of course the smell was coming from him, he had been locked in the same damn cage of a cell for over a month with his own shit and piss.

"What are you doing here?" he asked gravely.

"Freeing you" said Scott.

"Obviously," added Stiles, probably rolling his eyes as he was known to do.

Derek hadn't seen either of the two lads in half a year, having been on the run and then captured for so long, but hearing their voices, now, made him feel like he had seen them just the day before. His heart twisted painfully sweet in his chest at the thought. He wasn't ready to admit it, but he had missed them.

"You two think you'll be able to free me?" he asked in a monotone voice that he knew was dripping with disdain.

"Ye of little faith," teased Stiles and Derek actually caught the movement of his face in the shadows when the lad winked at him.

Scott reached for Derek's wrists and unlocked his shackles while Stiles pulled a large cloak out of the sack at his side.

"Oh look, we just did," Stiles said sounding smug.

Derek pulled the cloak around himself, his body shuddering in relief of the cloak's heavy, scratchy, warm wool. Spending a month naked in a cold dungeon tower probably would have killed him were he human, instead it made him feel weak and ill. He stood rubbing at his wrists while the two boys argued in hushed whispers about their next move.

"And how do you plan on getting out undetected?" Derek finally asked.

"Same way we got in," said Stiles, shrugging carelessly, but his voice gave away how nervous he was.

"If they catch us, they'll hang you two," warned Derek, though it was a little late.

"Yeah, so let's get out of here," snapped Stiles.

"Give me the bones," said Scott, dropping the ring of keys to the floor and reaching for the sack at Stiles' side. "How do you fair, Derek?" he then asked Derek.

It seemed like a misplaced and somewhat womanly concern, but as Derek watched him scatter bones across the floor, he wondered if he actually had a reason for asking.

"I'm alive," said Derek, "not at my full strength, but still better than Stiles, for certain."

"Hey," hissed Stiles and Derek couldn't help but grin smugly at him, despite his confusion.

Derek wanted to ask what their hair-brained scheme was, but he figured he would find out soon enough, plus he was a little worried to know what it was. The bones were mostly clean, and Derek wouldn't have been certain what they were from if it weren't for the faint scent of dog still on them. A dog's bones, what did the two boys have in mind?

Once the sack was empty of the bones, Scott led Derek by the elbow like he was an elderly woman. Derek wanted to pull his arm from Scott's grip, but he knew the lad was a tactile person and wondered if perhaps Scott just needed to touch his alpha after half a year of being separated.

When they reached the heavy, wooden door leading to the staircase, Stiles hung back long enough to lower the torch into the straw in a few choice places, setting the place on fire.

Derek paused a few steps up from Stiles to watch the dry straw go up in flame. They three watched a few moments longer, all transfixed by the flames already licking up the walls, before turning as one and racing up the spiraling stone stairs.

They were coughing from the smoke and having run up so many stairs by the time they emerged from the dungeon tower into the fresh night air. Derek hadn't had more than a ten by ten foot prison cell to live in for a month and was deeply winded by the activity, but it obviously wasn't time to rest, yet. Stiles grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the forest line behind Scott.

Once the lights of the castle were mostly blocked by branches and underbrush of the thick forest, Scott and Stiles finally stopped to catch their breath. Derek leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees and just breathing.

He straightened once Once he felt less light headed and took in his surroundings. The air was cool but heavy with the sweet scents of harvest. There was a breeze that rustled the leaves of the trees before sliding over his skin in a silken caress. It was amazing after so long in the still, stale air of the dungeon.

Derek let the hood of the cloak down and stretched out his arms, giving more of his akin access to the sea if air flowing over him. It moved through his hair and over his skin. It filled his nostrils and cleared out his lungs.

Finally, he could feel his wolf rumbling beneath the surface if his human psyche. The only times he had felt it in the last month was when it came to the surface through his rage and fear, but now, there it was again, part of him and at peace inside his body.

"Derek," whispered Stiles, quietly asking for… Something

Derek looked over at him. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he could make out their faces much better without the deep and moving shadows made by the torch. They both looked do much older than he remembered —Stiles moreso than Scott. The lines in his face spoke of stress and worry, of too many life and death situations. Derek wished in that mine t that he could free Stiles of it just like Stiles and Scott had just freed him.

Derek let out a sigh, if he could go back, he would stay away from Scott and spare the two young men the misery of bring associated with him. Scott, who was loyal and moral to a fault, and Stiles, who loved more fiercely than even a wolf, and who feared he'd always be just the stupid sidekick all his life even while his conniving intellect and quick thinking actually set him as the leader more often than not; they didn't need Derek's troubles. Derek would free them now, late as it was.

"Thank you," he said solemnly, though he meant it with every fibre if his being.

He patted Scott's shoulder, giving it a squeeze before turning to Stiles to do the same. Stiles, however, instantly screwed up his face in a terrible expression before shaking his head.

"Don't you dare pat me on the shoulder," growled Stiles, "I am more important to you than that, and we both know it!"

With that, Stiles lunged for Derek, wrapping long arms around Derek's torso and dragging him in. Derek huffed out an amused laugh, hugging Stiles back and pressing his nose to his hair.

When Stiles released him, Derek took the borrowed cloak off, letting it fall to the ground. He could feel Stiles and Scott's eyes on him, but wasn't embarrassed to have them see him naked. He didn't feel as vulnerable in the nude as the average human.

"Fair well," said Derek, simply before falling forward into his wolf firm. He gave them one last look, hazel eyes from a dark faced wolf, then turned to run off into the woods.


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