First Moon

The large room filled with books was quiet, save the sound of a quill scratching across parchment. There was only one person inside, the shadows of their face flickering from the candle flame. He paused in his work and sat back. His eyes were beginning to hurt from the strain of working so long. He had been going at it since that afternoon. Long, graceful, slender fingers reached up and carded through his dark brown hair. The few rings that he wore on his hand glinted against the light. A tired and drawn out breath escaped his slightly chapped lips. He allowed himself to slump and lay against the top of the desk. His honey brown eyes watched the candle flame dance in the darkness. Against his will, his eyelids began to close and he was soon fighting off sleep. It was a battle he did not win. Another breath left him as he relaxed in to his slumber.

The next morning, someone was shaking him awake. His eyes opened slowly and he quickly shut them. Sunlight streamed in through large, arched windows in the room. It was a change in atmosphere he was none too pleased with. He grumbled in protest and hid his face in the crook of his elbow.

"Let me sleep," he said with a yawn.

There was a sigh from the person attempting to rouse him.

"If you do not get up soon," they warned, "You will miss your ship."

At that he shot up, scattering the papers on the desk. He cursed under his breath and began to reorganize them. The person there placed a delicately manicured hand over his.

"I'll take care of these, you just go and get ready for departure."

He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks Lydia," he breathed, "What would I do without you?"

"The kingdom would completely fall apart—now hurry and go!"

He gave her a wave before rushing from the room.

Lydia sighed and shook her head, "Honestly," she mumbled, "What an absent-minded prince."

The shipyard was bounding with activity. Sailors and merchants alike were bustling about. New freight had come in from the other Continents. There were all sorts of people there. Some were from Animas, some from Beacon, others from the Eastern and Central Continents.

"Careful with those!" Scott McCall, a stable boy at the palace instructed. He oversaw the loading of a few trunks before shaking his head.

"Scott!" Called a voice. Scott's face lit up and he looked over his shoulder.

"There you are! Your ship leaves in a few minutes."

"I know, I know," the crown prince panted as he caught his breath, "I was working last night and lost track of time."

Scott gave him a skeptical look, "You mean to say that you fell asleep in the study while translating those old books you recently found."

Stiles opened his mouth, but then closed it, "I guess you could call it that."

"How long have we known each other?" Scott teased, hitting Stiles lightly on the shoulder, "I know you pretty well."

"True, very true," Stiles looked around, "So they have everything loaded?"

"Yessir,"

"And everything is ready for departure?"

"Yessir," Scott answered again, "We were simply waiting on you."

"Right, of course," Stiles' eyes continued to move about the crowd.

Scott frowned and placed his hand gently on Stiles' shoulder, "Sorry, Stiles, he didn't come."

"What? Oh," Stiles shrugged, "I wasn't—I didn't expect him to come. He's strengthening his clan."

"Things will work out, I know it," Scott gave him a reassuring squeeze before walking off to take care of something.

Stiles let out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest. He had known Derek wouldn't come. But, it would have been nice if he did. Stiles was going to the Eastern Continent to introduce irrigation to them. He would be away for a minimum of seven months. His return was dependent on the ability to place in the irrigation systems and the timing. If he missed the time before monsoon season, he wouldn't be able to come back to Beacon for an added three months. Once more, his golden brown eyes roamed across the faces in the crowd. But not one had the hazel green eyes that Stiles was looking for.

Shouts alerted Stiles that his ship was departing soon. He shook himself out and turned towards the gangway. The solid ground left him as his feet stepped on to the wood of the ship. It was a black and gold filigree corsair ship. The ship's name was Ougon Kitsune. She had two masts that were fore-and-aft rigged. It was one of the fastest ships that took the route Stiles would be travelling. She was sailed by some of the best hands on the entire sea. It was said that the captain of the ship offered his own daughter—the prettiest girl in the entire town—to Futsushi the god of the sea as his bride. This gave the captain favor on all the water that covered the world. In other words, it was the most ideal vessel to transport the crown prince of Beacon Kingdom.

"Glad you finally decided to show up, your highness," said a voice as Stiles cleared the plank.

"Please," Stiles bowed his head, "Call me Stiles. You are my superior and I do not wish to be given more respect than you."

The man raised an eyebrow at Stiles, but smiled nonetheless, "I think you and I will get along just fine. I am Captain Ikeda."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain," Stiles bowed once more.

"Another thing," Captain Ikeda said, "Your father requested that you have a guide for the trip and during your stay."

Stiles cringed, "I assure you, I do not need to be watched."

Captain Ikeda shook his head and waved his hand, "It is no matter. Your father allowed me to use my best judgment to choose your guide. Takahiro! Koi!"

"Hai!" Was the response from somewhere above them. Stiles blinked and looked up. The harsh morning sunlight streaked down on them. A form swooped in to the light and blocked the sun. The shape descended and came closer and closer. With a harsh thud, the object stopped moving. Stiles blinked as he looked at what had just come down from the sails.

Before Stiles stood a man no older than he. He was wearing loose breeches made from thin, yet durable fabric that could handle scaling the rigging ropes. His feet were bare save for some wrappings on them to grab the wood of the masts. Small strands of black hair peeked out from under a handkerchief tied around his head. Drops of sweat fell and became rivulets down his face. Stiles followed the sweat as it fell down the side of his face, along his jaw, down to his neck and even further down to his chest. Which—Stiles noted—was bare. Unconsciously, Stiles licked his lips and swallowed thickly. The man raised his eyes, deep endlessly obsidian eyes. It was like looking straight in to a jewel.

"Sumimasen, Ouji-sama," he said in the Eastern Language. He then knelt down on one knee, rather than bowing. This took Stiles by surprise. The bow was much more Western and custom of Beacon and other kingdoms on this continent. The fact that this man was willing to disregard his own customs in order to pay respects to Stiles, was most respectable.

"I would have greeted you in proper attire," he continued, "But not even I can get out of preparing the ship for departure. Your kingdom, while beautiful, is terribly warm." He reached forward for Stiles' hand and brought it to his lips so that he could kiss the ring that bore Stiles' seal. The man then stood, keeping his head lower than Stiles.

"Watashi wa Ikeda Takahiro desu." He smiled charmingly, his dark eyes twinkling, "Yoroshikune—nice to meet you."

Stiles nodded and returned the nod, "As to you. Please take care of me, Ikeda-san."

The man laughed, a joyous sound, "My father is Ikeda-san," he said gesturing towards Captain Ikeda, "Feel free to call me Takahiro."

"No honorific?" Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No need. We're about the same age and you're a higher social rank than I am," Takahiro explained.

Stiles began to reply when there was a loud whistle.

"Senchou! She's ready for departure!" Called one of the sailors. Captain Ikeda's face broke out in a grin.

"Pull the way lines! Drop the sails! Let's cast off!" Captain Ikeda started to yell more instructions as he walked away.

"Are you all right here for a moment?" Takahiro asked, pulling Stiles' attention back to him, "One of our sailors has come down with illness so I'm doing his duties. Once we've left the harbor I can show you to your quarters and get you acquainted with the ship."

"Of course," Stiles nodded, "Don't worry about me. I'll just go watch us cast off."

Takahiro smiled again before hurrying towards one of the masts. He grabbed one of the rungs on the rope ladder and began to scale the mast. He had disappeared behind one of the sails in a matter of seconds. Stiles smiled to himself and walked over to the side of the ship. The Kitsune had caught wind in her sails and they were starting to pull away from the shore.

It wouldn't be the first time that Stiles had traveled away from home. But this was the first time he would be going alone. He put his arms on the wood of the ship and placed his head on his forearms. His eyes stared out over the crowd. Scott must have gotten distracted—he wasn't standing at the edge waving. It wouldn't be unbearable. Stiles was twenty-two now so he could handle himself. He wasn't worried about the kingdom either. Lydia was there as his proxy while he was away and she was more than capable of handling things. If anything should happen, carrier pigeons had already been set up so that Beacon could get in contact with Stiles if need be.

Stiles felt his stomach drop. He had been planning this trip to the Eastern Continent for years now. He had been in contact with the Emperor of the Continent. They planned everything to the very last detail. Stiles would bring over the irrigation that his kingdom had developed in exchange for goods and support from the Eastern Continent. Stiles was dedicated to his kingdom and his people. He was doing everything he could for them. He had fully immersed himself in to his work with only the wellbeing of others on his mind. However, there had been an interesting—and supernatural—development in his life.

Four years ago, Stiles had traveled to Beacon's neighboring kingdom to improve relations with them. He had wanted to convince Animas' king—King Khufu at the time—to elongate the Animas market period. Stiles and his father had both gone over the numbers and believed that this would not only help Beacon, but increase trade and income for the Animas kingdom as well. On his way there, Stiles' party was attacked by bandits in the Triton Forest that acted as a border between the kingdoms. Stiles was the only one who made it out alive, but he hadn't made it out completely unscathed. Walcune—one of the bandit officers—had caught him with an arrow in his thigh. Stiles was able to get away from the bandits by hiding on Shifter land.

A Shifter was one who was not entirely human or entirely of Animas blood. They were able to shapeshift in to the form of animals. Shifters were revered as monsters—they belonged to no one race and therefore were outcasts. Stiles had ended up on the land of one of the oldest Shifter bloodlines. He had escaped on to Shifter Hale's land—the Hales were wolf shifters. The current clan head and Alpha was Derek Hale. On the surface, he was scruff and displeased at the world. He held himself with dignity and took care of his pack. After allowing Stiles to heal, Derek even volunteered to escort the prince to Animas and watch over him during his time there. At some point, without Stiles even noticing it, he started to fall for this man. The man who appeared hard on the outside but was actually sweet and gentle and a little bit of perfect. Yes, he had his own past and dark scars that still had yet to heal, but Stiles accepted all of those things. But things could never go smoothly for Stiles.

Derek had been targeted by a hunter gone rogue. She was out for his blood and looking to end the bloodline completely. To do this, the hunter had kidnapped Stiles and used him as bait to capture Derek. Derek fell in to the trap willingly in order to save Stiles. But the hunter got her revenge and stabbed Derek right through the chest with her sword. She had killed the only person Stiles had ever felt something for right in front of him. Luckily for Stiles, he was saved before the rogue hunter could kill him. But that didn't change the fact that Derek was dead. The corpse was taken away by Derek's three betas in his pack. Stiles had passed out from exhaustion soon afterwards.

To Stiles, that had been it. It was his final straw—Derek had been his last chance at happiness. Stiles decided that he would live only for the kingdom from that point on. So that's what he did. For three years he worked his hardest to improve the kingdom and the quality of life for its citizens. After his twenty-first birthday, Stiles visited the Preserve which was just the renamed Shifter's land. It served as an area for Derek's betas to live safely and without concern of being discovered and hunted. While he was walking around, he had been surprised. There, before him once more, had been Derek. Living, breathing, and emliving/em Derek Hale stood before him. It had been overwhelming and Stiles didn't know what to believe. He and Derek really hadn't even talked about it yet. All Stiles knew was that Derek had been mortally wounded, but his betas were able to use the help of a local Emissary to revive their Alpha. But the healing had been slow and it wasn't even certain that it would work. So no one had told Stiles—so as not to get his hopes up.

Stiles could barely even see the shoreline anymore. The sounds of the sailors around him had dimmed slightly. With a deep and slow inhale he let the smell of salt enter his body. He would be out at sea for about three weeks. Then he would be in the Eastern Continent. Stiles closed his eyes and felt the ship rock gentle under his feet.

"Ouji-sama?" Takahiro called, "I can show you to your quarters now, if you would like."

With one last look at the shore, Stiles turned to face Takahiro. He gave him a small, closed lipped smile.

"Thank you. That would be wonderful," Stiles walked along next to Takahiro as they made their way to a set of stairs that went in to the belly of the ship.

"Takahiro," Stiles began, "Would you happen to have some parchment and ink by any chance?"

Takahiro blinked at Stiles, "I'm sure I could find some sir. May I ask what it is you need it for?"

"I wish to write a tegami to someone,"

"Ah," Takahiro raised his eyebrows suggestively, "A letter to a loved one perhaps?"

"Hm," Stiles looked up at the blue sky. A few clouds drifted lazily. One of them looked like a wolf. His smile widened.

"Something like that,"