This is my first work in the fandom.

This chapter was update for a better story a flow, but I am working on the second chapter as well as the fourth chapter of Past, present and Flames.

Enjoy !

Stiles held back the tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks, as he looked at the scorched Hale House.

He had cried enough for this lifetime, cried as his friends were taken away and burned on a pyre, ( And gods how Lydia had screamed and screamed as the fires licked at her skin, not because of the pain she was in but because of the two dozen other people burning alongside her), as they were shot down like cattle ( Isaac, Jackson and Derek had tried to run away but those people weren't just plain old hunters, no, they were government trained soldiers), as they were taken to labs to be studied and experimented on ( Kira and Scott had died in each others' arms he was sure of it).

And Stiles?

Stiles wasn't able to save any of them, and gods but he had tried everything he could. The specialized prisons and the labs were too well protected. And the only time he was able to get into one of the labs with his dad and Chris Argent had been to free Deaton. They were found out as they were leaving. And while Stiles got away from the place with only the ugly white scar that stretched from his right shoulder to left hip. His dad, Chris and Deaton were all dead.

There weren't even bodies to bury, no way to really mourn the dead, not if they were supernatural beings at least. And while they tried to fight back they were wholly outnumbered. And as the war dragged on and everyone lost someone they started giving up.

Humans feared what they didn't understand; it was one of the principal reasons why the supernatural beings all around the world hid themselves. Why secrecy was always a matter of life and death. But hunters had gotten cocky, too many people were getting killed and with a society as connected as that of the supernatural. It only took one smart FBI agent to snoop around and discover a link between many of the victims. And suddenly, a lot more of the so called myths started making sense.

The war hadn't started however until what the media had called The Bus Incident.

A police officer had walked towards a mother and her child who were both werewolves and were sitting at the back of a bus. Something (and Stiles was ready to bet that the police officer had wolfsbane on him) had frightened the child (a cute little girl of five with blond hair and bright green eyes) and she had shifted and bit his arm. The police officer took his gun out and shot her at point blank, killing her instantly. The mother, nearly maddened with rage, had jumped at him and tore him apart.

The whole thing had been caught on camera and went viral before the end of the day. And with one kind of supernatural being brought into the limelight it only took months for the rest to be unveiled. In less than a year, the world's biggest witch hunt started, it was neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend and the dead only started pilling higher and higher.

Stiles almost laughed when he realized where his feet had led him.

The Nemeton hummed with uncontained power in the otherwise silent forest. And in that moment, Stiles almost wished for the Nogitsune to be back. So that he could be less pathetically powerless. So that he could avenge his father. So that the death of his friends could stop seeming so meaningless.

A sudden cold breeze brought him out of his thoughts, and Stiles watched mesmerized as a figure walked into the clearing.

Long strands of silver hair danced around her, glowing softly under the moonlight. A crown of ice floated above her head, shining like the stars. Shadows followed her movements and draped her in a dress that hugged her body the dark color contrasting with her alabaster skin. Her light blue eyes glimmered like a frozen lake under the sunlight. Her gaze fell on him, and berry kissed lips spread into a smile.

"Such a dreary night isn't it?" she asked her voice as soft as the first snows of winter "Death hangs in the air like the poisoned end of a sword and not even the Fae can escape it."

Stiles winced. Out of everything the Fates could have thrown at him, it had to be the Fae. He only wanted to rest for a bit, to change into clothes that weren't stained with blood, mud and gods know what else and sleep the night away. He didn't want to deal with the Fae, even less so if they were Royalty as this one seemed to be.

"That it is Your Grace," he agreed, bowing, offending the Queen in front him was the last thing he wanted to do "How may I help you ?"

"I would give you a crown of ice and a throne of darkness. I would endow you with winter winds and freezing nights. Give you control over endless nightmares and untold Horrors. The sky would cry at your command and the earth would wither at a glance. The world would freeze in everlasting snow and eternal cold if so you wished. You would become Noble, Royal, a Prince with ice and death in your veins." The smile she offered him, and the way her voice was carried away by the breeze, until it seemed like she was talking by his ear was enthralling.

"Why? What would that change Your Grace?" he asked voice cracked and eyes full with grief. He looked at the ethereal form in front of him and laughed without humor "The world is burning, humans were never supposed to learn the truth. They were never supposed to know what was hidden under their noses. There is nothing left even if I were to accept your 'gift' what would I do with it?"

"We used to play the humans to our whims and it was ever so easy to twine them around our fingers and our wills." She walked to the tree stump and placed a hand on it "Yet here we are my kin all dead by the hands of our once playthings" her mouth spread into a wide (too wide) smile, her teeth bared (nothing should have that many rows of teeth).

The creature who was once a thing of untold beauty suddenly became one of nightmares.

What was once moon-spun hair now fell down her back like a river of blood. The crown floating above her head made of shattered ice looked like gleaming daggers stuck together. Her cheeks sunk, and her face looked gaunt. Her limbs elongated and alabaster skin turned into a dull blue-grey hue. While her eyes turned as pitch black as the void and her voice when she spoke once more was one of thunder and wailing screams.

"Dead, dead, DEAD! And I cannot stand it."

Stiles fell to his knees breathing hard. The air was suffocating; he could feel the Fae's fury in it pressing against him. What the hell did she want him to do? He was only human, he was no werewolf, no banshee no druid or kitsune he was just a seventeen years old teenager. Who had lost everything to this damned war.

He felt a cold hand resting upon his cheek, nails like claws biting into the skin. His breathing returned to normal and he raised his head to meet the once more angelic face of the Queen. She started stroking his cheek slowly, almost tenderly. She tilted her head to the side, watching idly as blood flowed freely from the cuts she was causing.

There was hunger in her eyes and honey in her smile.

"Such a beautiful child" she mused "Mayhap in another life I would have taken you away and made you mine."

Stiles shuddered, Gods why hadn't he just died with the rest of his pack?

She suddenly let her hand drop, and turned her back to him walking once more to the Nemeton and sitting primly on top of it.

"This old poor thing still holds so much power. All the blood that flowed so freely on these lands fed it well. It screams even as we stand by it, so angry and despairing." Her hand caressed the stump almost lovingly even as her gaze never left his "I shall make you the embodiment of Winter, gift you all its ice, snow, death and darkness all yours to use as you see fit. And with this stump's power I shall send you back and you will make sure this never happens again."

Stiles blinked, feeling hope unfurling inside of him. Was she implying what he thought?

"Send me back as in time travel?" he asked.

She smiled and beckoned him closer, and like on a leach he walked to her and sank on his knees. She carded her long nailed fingers through his shoulder length hair "Yes child, I could send you as far back as you wish when all your loved ones were still alive. When all this hasn't happened yet." Her nails dug deeper into his scalp and he winced "And with the powers I give you, you will make sure that this never happens again won't you?" She gripped his hair hard, and pulled his head back to stare into his eyes smiling in a mocking imitation of kindness "Won't you my darling child?"

Stiles winced, he felt cold to the bone, his head hurt like hell, the cuts on his face burned and there wasn't a single part of his body that didn't throb with dull pain. The only thing he wanted to do was sleep and never wake up, but what she was offering him wasn't something he could refuse. Not when the deaths of everyone he ever loved could be prevented.

"Yes" he croaked "If you can really send me back then I will make sure that nothing like this goddamned war would happen again."

Her smile stretched wider and wider in manic glee. She unwound her hand for his hair and started patting his head softly "Then, breathe anew and be one of my own," she commanded.

Stiles felt ice seep into his core, burrowing deep into him, changing him from the inside out. He gasped and nearly fell to ground as the feeling intensified. The freezing numbness that had enveloped his body had suddenly turned into searing pain. The Queen tugged at his hair, and Stiles dug his fingers into the ground, gritting his teeth as the pain became much worse.

"Such a beautiful, beautiful child." She intoned twining silver strands of his hair between her fingers "Now tell me where shall the Nemeton and I send you?"

Stiles shuddered as he looked at the tree stump, he could feel and hear what the Queen had been talking about the pain the Nemeton was in was nearly unbearable.

Since it was its powers they were using shouldn't it be just right to decrease its burden.

"Before Paige," he said still staring at the stump "Send me back to before Paige died".

The Queen bent down and kissed his temple "So be it, dear child," she said.

And then there was light.

Review, it makes my day