Hello guys! This is a Steter Fanfiction coz I just looove this pairing! I randomly got the idea when I was reading this YAOI called Black Sun, which really influenced the story when I first started thinking of the plot almost a year ago, yet it was only a reference so, for everyone out there who has read it, trust me the two stories are similar but very veeery different XD! Characters might be OOC occasionally, but AU does that.

WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.

RATING: M

Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.

I really hope you lot like this story, even a bit, and please feel free to review or follow/fav this story! ^_^

On with the chapter then!

Chapter 1

Emmeria. The renounced port city made of crystal, alabaster, and gold. The center of trade in the West, wealthy and majestic, with streets paved in chalk and sea shells, blazed white in the sun. A massive white marble wall surrounded the city, and on the walls stood statues made of lapis, malachite, and jasper. Countless gilded gates allowed entrance to the city; a city more ornamental than defensive. A city, where war was a foreign concept. A city, now in flames.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

Panicked servants ran along the corridors of the palace of Emmeria, as the warriors of Azaran smashed down the doors after breaking the siege around the once glorious city.

"They're almost in! Run!" a servant shouted at me as he ran by, crazed with terror. I dashed towards the opposite direction from where the other servant had run to, in search of my master. I had to find him before the barbarians from Azaran entered the palace! Before their bloodthirsty prince breached the gates…

I found Jackson in his quarters, putting on his armor.

"Master, what are you doing?! The warriors of Azaran have almost entered the palace! It is but a matter of time before the gates are breached. If they find you, master, a member of the royal family, they will slaughter you on the spot!"

Jackson turned around and gazed at me with his warm, hazel eyes. A kind smile graced his face, a smile which turned my heart into pieces.

"Don't call me master, Stiles. We are alone, there is no need for etiquette. And since I have no kingdom, I am no longer a prince."

My eyes widened upon hearing his words.

"Ma-Jackson, you cannot mean this! Those barbarians are but mere pawns of that cruel Easterner prince, that Peter! The citizens of Emmeria will never bow to him! It is you they love!"

Jackson came close to me and patted my head, the same way he had been doing since the day he first saw me amongst the miserable slaves in the slave markets of Emmeria. Out of childish whim, he had insisted on buying me, so his mother, her Majesty, eventually gave in and bought me for the little prince's personal use. But, for Jackson, I am not just one of his slaves… at least that is the impression I get from him. And he does not wish to live and see me suffer, like everyone else, at the hands of Peter. If he were to die, I know better than anyone he would rather fall in battle, fighting against the scums who dared attack his kingdom.

Jackson made to leave, but I grabbed his arm and gazed at him pleadingly.

"Please, Jackson! Don't go out there! You must escape as it has been planned! His Majesty the King and Queen are waiting for you!"

"Go tell them to leave without me. I have made my decision. And you shall go with them."

"No! I am not leaving you! Wherever you go, I go. You are my master, Jackson."

"For me, Stiles, you are the little brother I never had. I do not wish to see you suffer. Farewell."

And with those parting words, Jackson grabbed his sword and left the room.

I could feel the icy hands of panic clawing onto my very soul. I was no warrior. If I were to follow Jackson, I would be nothing but a burden, a liability. But, even though I already knew that, I could not stop myself from following him; even if it would cost me my life. He saw me as a brother, but to me he was so much more… What worth is there in a life without him…?

Frustration has always been one of the triggers… I felt a tingling on the top of my head and in my lower back and knew they were about to come out. I forced myself to breathe and calm down until I was sure the secret I have been keeping since I was a child would stay exactly that… a secret. No one needs to know what a disgusting freak of nature I am… especially not Jackson.

Without further delay, I dashed towards the gates of the palace. I could hear the blows of the battering ram against the huge, marble gates echoing in the empty halls as I ran, like a twisted imitation of a heartbeat. The whole palace seemed to tremble with every blow, and my heart seemed to sink more in my chest.

When I finally reached the entrance hall, my eyes spotted Jackson near the gates, and I let out a sigh of relief. But, my relief was short-lived. As if in slow motion, I saw the gates crack with a deafening sound. I saw Jackson shouting orders to his men pointing at the gate. Another blow, and the gates came down with a deafening sound. Like a crimson sea, the warriors of Azaran gushed inside the palace, with blood-stained scimitars and battle cries.

No matter how hard the palace guards tried, they failed to hold against their fury. They began to fall back and my eyes lost Jackson. I tried to push my way through to him, but the guards were falling back disorderly, and I drifted to the opposite direction. I began screaming his name at the top of my lungs.

"Jackson! JACKSON!"

But it could not be heard over this turmoil. Then, I saw him. I saw Peter.

A huge man mounting a black stallion, butchering what was left of Emmeria's defenders, a deadly glint in his eyes and a devilish grin on his lips as he did so. He possessed a wild beauty, which made me gaze at him dumbfounded. He was truly… My other self reacted instantly to that predator. I felt the tingling sensations on my head and my ears popped out before I could stop them, a whine escaping my throat. What was happening to me?!

I covered my ears quickly and fought to regain control, yet my eyes never left the man. His armor was crimson and golden, stained by the blood of his victims. His gaze was fixed on something and my eyes followed it. With horror, I realized he was looking at Jackson. My Master's armor was also bloody, but I could not tell whether the blood was his, or his enemies'.

Peter dismounted, and I barely held back the urge to run and lie at that man's feet and present my neck in submission. What!? Did I just think of that? What was this madness?

He moved towards Jackson and all weird thoughts flew from my mind. His scimitar shone red in the light of the setting sun that passed through the remnants of what once stood a gate. Next thing I knew, the swords of the two princes were clashing against each other, pulled in a deadly dance, with no one backing down.

Once again, I attempted to make way through the panicked guards, to no avail. Those people did not even know what they were doing any more. The only thing they knew was the need to escape with their lives. However, the Azaran warriors had a different opinion. They started chasing down those who ran, cutting them down like animals, with no remorse.

I could see the invaders approaching, but I did not stop my tries to reach Jackson. However, I could not go against the flow of crazed Emmerian guards as they were running for their lives. Suddenly, I was pushed forcefully out of the way and hit on the wall. My head span as I tried to stand up and fell again. It was a nasty hit. My vision blurred and I could hear a buzzing in my ears. When darkness crept into the corners of my eyes, I knew I would faint. Again, I had showed how worthless a servant I was. I had failed to protect my master, hell, I had even failed to die next to him. Hopefully I would be killed before I had come to my senses…

Next thing I knew, a kick landed on my stomach and all the air in my lungs was pushed out painfully. My head hurt like it was being hammered and my vision was blurry. I blinked to clear it and I tried to move my hands but in vain. Someone had tied them behind my back. Painstakingly, I turned my head and saw that around me there were countless other palace guards in the same position, if not worse, as me. Some were unconscious, but most of them were too tired or injured to care about their situation.

The events that had occurred before I passed out came rushing back to me. Panicked, my eyes searched for Jackson, but he was not among the captives. My head felt like spinning. I tried to pull myself up, but I drew the attention of an Azari.

Rough hands grabbed my hair and strained my head back in an unnatural angle. My neck creaked and I winced in pain.

The soldier said something to his comrades in the tongue of Azaran and they laughed, before he turned to me.

"Rise and shine, little servant. How do they call you?"

I did not answer and my eyes refused to meet the barbarian's face, an attitude which earned me a strong slap. I tasted blood and I glared at the warrior. The tingling in my gums alerted me to the small fangs that threatened to pop out so I held my mouth shut. No matter how much it hurt, I did not show my pain to these savages.

"I asked you a question, slave! Answer it!"

I spat the man on the face causing the rest of them to burst into laughter. The offended warrior paled with rage and humiliation.

He threw me on the floor completely and began kicking me frantically. His comrades made no move to stop him, but instead they kept on laughing at him, something that enraged the man even more. I couldn't breathe. A horrible crack echoed and I finally screamed in pain.

††††

(Peter's POV)

Inspecting the aftermath of a battle is the most boring task in the world. Sure, fighting and killing the enemy brings me a pleasure that has no equal. Nothing can compare to the smell of blood and the feeling of flesh being ripped against my sword… or my fangs. That is the only thing I live for. Well that, and the spoils that come after the battle is won.

Azaran is a cruel kingdom, even by my standards. And in that kingdom, I am known as the cruelest man. There is a reason for that, of course. I have earned the name Bloodthirsty Prince for I annihilate any army and every kingdom I am up against.

By orders of my father, King Gerard, I have spent the last three years conquering all kingdoms, cities and countries around Azaran. He has decided to turn our kingdom into an empire, you see. The title King no longer satisfies him. Emperor is much more imposing and prestigious. Well, it does have a certain ring to it, but I am a man of war, not politics. And that must be the reason my dear father has not taken my head yet. For, if he had to choose between his throne and his bastard son, he would choose the first. But, I don't mind. Since I would do just the same.

Amongst the ones we had managed to capture alive, I couldn't find anyone interesting enough to claim as spoil. I was fed up with women who would give themselves to me only because they were frightened to death, no matter how pretty they might have been. During the last six battles, no one had caught my eye. Instead, I allowed my men to have all the fun. They had to be satisfied in more ways than money, and what better way than to use what we had claimed from the enemy.

Yet, I thought Emmeria, of all places, would have better quality slaves and servants, judging from the way father would not stop ranting about it. I guess I was wrong. In the end, Emmeria had only beautiful buildings and elderly scholars. They hadn't even put much of a fight. Hell, they didn't even know how to swing their swords properly! Today's battle was a joke.

"What do you have to say now, bitch?! Next time know your place you little fuck-"

"What is the meaning of this?"

The warrior I spoke to fell on his knees once he saw me, as did all the others present. Even though he had his head down, I could see his face was red and he was breathing hard.

"This slave dared spit on my face, your Highness! I was merely teaching him a lesson."

I raised my hand and gave the warrior a punch that had him on the ground spitting out teeth.

"If a mere slave manages to spit on you then you have no place in my army."

The man crawled in front of me and grabbed my boots desperate, a look of complete horror in his eyes.

"Please, your Highness! I was caught off guar-"

The man never got to finish his sentence. My sword had already found its way into his mouth. I kicked the body from my feet, unperturbed and turned to the others.

"You do realize these slaves are meant to be sold at brothels and slave markets in Azaran and the conquered provinces to fund our army, do you not?" I asked amused to see the look of utter shock on my men's faces. No one dared answer.

"I take it you do. Then, I will say it for the last time. You can have fun with whomever you like, but you are not allowed to injure or scar them in any way. The price of scarred stock drops and our army loses money. Is that clear enough for you or should I elaborate further?" I said pointing at the mauled body with my bloodstained sword.

"Yes, your Highness!" the men replied scared shitless and quickly bowed their heads. I nodded and walked towards the slave who hadn't moved an inch from where he lay. I grabbed his chin and pulled his face up.

Angry purple eyes met mine as the boy shot a resigned glare at me. Ruffled brown hair framed a pale face with smooth cheekbones and a slightly upturned nose that was bleeding. A huge bruise marred the boy's pale cheek but his beauty could not be hidden that easily. Plus, his scent was… was pulling me…

For a moment, I thought he resembled someone, but I could not recall who. Those purple eyes, though, did not feel foreign to me.

I smirked and stood up.

"This one is mine. Take him to my new chambers."

"Yes, your Highness!"

At last, something that could spark my interest.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

Even though I didn't know the language of Azaran, I could understand parts of the conversation. I don't know how I did it, but it felt as if I had heard it before. But I hated every word I understood. This prince was a monster.

Once Peter left, his men untied my ropes and, since I couldn't walk, they dragged me to his quarters. To my horror and anger, he had chosen to occupy Jackson's room. The warriors tied me on the bed's legs, all the while spatting tasteless and lewd jokes in broken Emmerian, about what the prince would do to me.

When they left me alone, I started pulling at the ropes, but with no success. I am not strong, I have never been. My lean figure and feminine face have always caused me trouble and shame. Not few were the times when I was molested by men as a kid, because they thought I was a girl. Sometimes, they wouldn't stop even when they realized I was a boy. Thankfully just touching would satisfy them, so I grew used to bearing with it. I am a slave after all; I was taught to obey.

I made to move my body a bit, but the pain from my broken ribs made me whimper. I remained as still as I could and waited for the pain to subside. My cheek was swollen and hot from the slap of that warrior.

The fatigue and beating seemed to have taken their toll on me. My eyelids grew heavy and before I knew it, I fell asleep.

I woke up abruptly and my eyes shot open frightened, my heart thundering in my chest. I was lying on the bed, not tied up like before. Slowly, I tried to sit up but a piercing pain on my side had me fall back on the pillow gasping.

"You're awake." a smooth voice came and I nearly had a heart attack. Quickly, I turned my head to the side and saw the prince of Azaran staring at me with a smirk. My eyes lit with anger, but I swallowed any comments that came to mind and refused to answer.

He looked at me amused and stood up from where he sat to come near the bed. I flinched and tried to distance myself from him but the pain kept me where I was. The easterner sat on the bed next to me and gazed at me skeptically.

"How do they call you?"

His heavy accent was similar to the warrior that had beat me, but it wasn't as sharp. He spoke more fluently the language of Emmeria. The thought not to reply passed through my mind, but I didn't think my body could take any more beating today.

"…Stiles."

I saw the man frown displeased and I hurried to correct myself, out of reflex.

"Stiles, sire."

He appeared pleased.

"That's more like it."

Under this tanned-skinned prince's intense gaze, I couldn't help but lower my eyes submissively. I mentally slapped myself. Nice moment for my slave instincts to kick in.

"Your eyes." the prince kept questioning me. "Did your parents have the same?"

"I know not…sire. I never knew them."

"Is that so." he paused for a brief moment.

I took the opportunity now that he was silent, to ask the question the answer to which I feared the most.

"Is… is my master…is Prince Jackson dead…sire?"

The prince looked at me and I saw amusement light up in his ember eyes.

"What if I said yes?"

I did not expect a different answer. I already knew he was dead. It shouldn't come as a shock. Then why…why do I feel as if there is a hole in my chest…? My hands began to tremble, something that did not escape the gaze of the prince of Azaran.

"Hey-"

Before his stretched hand had reached me, I quickly stretched mine and pulled a dagger he had on him. I brought it on my throat and I swear I would have slashed it open without batting an eye, if it wasn't for that prince's quick reflexes.

He grabbed my hand before I had but scratched my skin, squeezed it and made me drop the dagger. He held me on the bed, as I tried to free myself, every move causing my broken ribs to send waves of pain throughout my body.

"What the hell are you doing?!" his voice came normal, but something primal shone in his eyes that immediately put an end to my struggling. He raised a hand and traced the bloody scratch on my neck. "It's shallow. It won't leave a scar."

I did not reply. Once he was sure I wouldn't pull an act like that again, he released my hands and I was surprised to see bruises starting to form on my wrists.

"You have added to my injuries…sire." I mocked, hoping he would grow fed up with me and kill me already. I had to follow Jackson. There was no reason for me to linger in a world without him.

"If you are trying to make me snap and kill you, you can stop."

He had seen right through me… apparently he was not a mere brute.

"Your master" he mocked in return "is still breathing. For now at least."

My head shot up and my eyes went wide with hope for a brief second.

"He is alive? But I saw you two fight and I thought…"

The man shot me an inquisitive look.

"I fought him at the entrance of the palace. What were you doing there? Most servants and slaves were captured as they attempted to escape."

Suddenly I saw his eyes lit up with realization. His smile became predatory.

"…You are in love with him."

I felt my face blush furiously and I looked away, without replying.

The prince grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. He had a smug smile stuck on his face as he came closer to me.

"You love him so much you wanted to die next to him in battle, didn't you. How touching." He mocked.

I saw the amusement in his eyes. He was laughing at me. Anger swelled in me and forgot all etiquette.

"My master is too proud a man to surrender. It was my duty to die beside his highness."

"Too bad he got capture instead, huh? No worries, he is gonna be executed tomorrow."

Prince Peter gazed at me questionably, as if he waited for me to say something. When I did not speak, he broke the silence.

"I thought you would beg me to spare his life."

My eyes gazed at him emptily, my poker face back in place.

"I am but a mere slave, I could not hope to change the decision of a prince."

He gave me an unreadable look as he rose on his feet. He walked away from the bed and sat on the chair of gold and ivory, where I had seen Jackson sit countless times. This conceited prince was not supposed to sit where Jackson had sat.

"I never said my decision was final."

††††

(Peter's POV)

This one was a peculiar servant. He looked young; couldn't be more than sixteen years old. His face was vacant of emotion, except from when his precious master was mentioned. I wanted to invoke some sort of strong reaction from him, make him show more of his expressions. Threatening his life would not work. Hell, this kid was ready to take his own life just because he thought his prince was dead. Such loyalty is…so foreign to me.

The boy gazed at me with those beautiful eyes that gave me the feeling I had seen them before and spoke softly, almost whispering, his voice trembling slightly with emotion.

"I-If your decision is not final, sire, then, please, I will do anything…just…spare my master…"

I smirked at his words. My eyes traveled from his eyes to his finely chiseled cheekbones, to the thin lips he kept biting every time he moved to ground himself from the pain.

"Come here." I ordered, and saw the boy struggle to sit up. He really intended to do anything, didn't he? After a couple of minutes he managed to cover the distance between us. I noticed small droplets of sweat on his forehead. He was in pain but he didn't whine about it. Admirable… for a slave.

"Kneel." I said and again he did as told without even a slight change in his expression.

I ran my hands through his hazel hair, relishing at the silkiness. What was this kid's deal? How could a male's hair be so smooth? I gripped it roughly, feeling thrilled by something unrelated to bloodshed for the first time in a while.

"Suck me."

His eyes shot up to me, wide in realisation. So he wasn't as innocent as he looked. But of course… as if the prince of Emmeria would let a beautiful servant like this one, with such an obvious crush on him, go.

"P-please, sire, a-anything but this!" he pleaded me but I yanked his hair roughly and shoved his face in my crotch.

"You offered to do anything to save that prince of yours. Did you expect to bring me dinner and prepare my bath? I have plenty of slaves to do that. Your job is to satisfy me."

I smiled viciously at the boy's petrified look. He was starting to show emotion.

Stiles' fingers were trembling as he found the buttons of my pants and began undoing them, his face blank again. He hesitantly touched my cock and swallowed nervously as he pulled it out of its confinement.

I stared at his face intensely. True, in all my twenty five years, I had seen and taken countless beautiful women, but I had never encountered such beauty. Flawless pale skin, hair smoother than silk, long eyelashes framing grey-blue eyes with purple tints, a feline nose over thin rosy lips… what a pity it belonged to a man. Such perfection. It made me wanna sully it.

I felt my shaft pulsate and my grip on Stiles' hair became tighter.

He began moving his hand up and down slowly. Soon after, I saw him stick out his tongue and give a small lick at the tip. I snorted amused.

"This is terrible. You'll never make me cum this way."

He let go of my cock and I was surprised to see a flash of anger in his eyes. It lasted but a mere moment, making me doubt I had even seen it.

"Forgive my inexperience, sire. I have never practiced before."

I smirked teasingly.

"And here I thought you would have practiced plenty on your beloved master."

A light pink colored Stiles' cheeks and he refused to meet my eyes.

"He would never make me commit such a vile act. My master is noble without equal."

For some reason, his words angered me quite a bit. If his master was all he would talk about, he might as well put his mouth to better use.

I yanked his hair, drawing a small cry from him. With a quick move, I shoved my cock into his mouth. His eyes widened and he tried by reflex to pull away, but my grip kept him in place.

"Then, I'm the first to fuck this little mouth of yours." I whispered pissed and pushed myself even further inside his hot wet cavern.

Stiles choked and his eyes filled with tears.

"Mmmf" he whimpered but stopped resisting. He submitted and let me do whatever I wished with him.

"Come on, use your tongue more." I heard myself spatting mercilessly as I thrust into his mouth, and Stiles obeyed, his beautiful eyes shut. My hand, still entangled in his hair, bobbed his head up and down on my length which by now was rock hard.

The view of the boy going down on me was a huge turn on. I felt as if I could cum just by watching those crimson lips wrapped around my cock. But that wasn't the best part.

All those little sounds and whimpers that Stiles made went straight to my shaft, making it even harder. The moment those teary eyes cracked open and his defying glare met my lusty gaze, I felt myself release inside that amazing heat growling deep in my chest.

I emptied my load in Stiles' mouth, shooting it at the back of his throat, but I didn't let him pull away, even when he started to choke.

"Swallow it." I ordered and Stiles did as told, eyes shut from the humiliation.

When I finally let go of his hair, the boy collapsed on the floor exhausted, breathing hard. I stood up from where I sat and knelt in front of him. Once again, I grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me.

"From this day forth, you belong to me, Stiles."

I wiped away the trail of my seed from the corner of his mouth with my thumb. Stiles was trembling and his hand was on his side. Maybe that was a bit too intense for his injured body.

I scooped him up and took him to the bed. I couldn't not notice how light and frail his body was. Every move made him wince slightly so I lay him slowly on it. He looked as if he would pass out any second now, so I turned to leave. He had served his purpose for now.

"D-Did I…ngh…satisfy you…sire?" he managed to utter.

That took me by surprise and I turned my head to look at him.

"You did. Rest assured. I will uphold my part of the deal."

Upon hearing my words, Stiles' eyes closed and he stilled.

"Pfft. What a weird slave." I chuckled to myself as I left the room. Another slave of mine was right outside, so I turned to her and she quickly dropped her gaze on the floor.

"Call a healer to tend to the boy. And bring him a change of clothes."

"As you command, your Highness."

I walked away hastening towards where the privileged captives were held. It was time to take a proper look at the guy that kid loves so much.