Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of the characters. I don't make any profit off of this and really only wrote it to: a) get the idea out of my head and b) procrastinate more in class. I hope you enjoy!


"Why are you in my castle?"

Dear sweet baby Jesus.

Stiles literally flew off the couch. He was sure that if he had wings he probably would have gone much further. He was mid-calculating just how far, given his body weight and the wingspan he would have had just how far when he remembered why he was on the floor in the first place. Stiles scrambled backwards, away from the imposing male figure with short black hair and damn good looks (it really was the only way to put it in Stiles' mind) that stood behind the couch, glaring at him with what had to be the best glare he'd ever seen.

Glare champion.

"I said …," The male started, stalking over to him as if he owned the place… Oh right …, "Why. Are you in my castle?" Stiles couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but he was fairly certain that he'd heard a growl accompanying that last sentence.

"I-I … I just … H-Hey! This can't be your castle. It belongs to the Hale family and all of them are dead unless you're like a zombie or something and—" Stiles paused as he saw the predatory glare the male was giving him, "…pleasedon'teatme."

The glare champion standing before him simply gave a snort at Stiles' rushed words before moving closer to inspect him, eliciting a whimper from Stiles'. "This is my castle. You're trespassing."

"O-Okay! I'm trespassing! Trespassing is what I'm doing! Trespassing superstar!" Stiles froze, seeing the way the other's eyes narrowed as he began to babble. "C-Can I just go then? Please? Pretty please? With a cherry and whipped cream and—"

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Oh god … the longer he stayed there, the more he could sense that the guy standing just a foot or so away from him was going to kill him. Maybe he could sneak out of there. Stiles was pretty fast, he was faster than Scott and Jackson at least (unless the two of them had always been going easy on them, which he somehow felt that was a plausible explanation). Plus, he was young and nimble … He could totally outrun the creep standing near him. That kind of thinking led to Stiles kicking off the ground, book still in hand as he made a mad dash to the front door. This, in turn, led to Stiles being pushed up against the wall, Sir Creeps-a-lot pinning him to the wooden frame. He was fast.

"Just where are you going?"

"Y-You … I thought you didn't want me in the castle, so I was going to leave? I can't trespass if I'm not in the castle, right?" Stiles questioned, giving a half laugh.

"You're not leaving," the now-elevated-to-psycho male in front of him said.

"What?" the boy squeaked out. "N-no … no no no … I can't stay. My dad'll be looking for me … And Scott! Scott too! I can't let him think I'm dead and bury all my books in the ground …" Just the thought of Scott being an idiot and saying he was dead before even looking for him then burying his books in the ground made him whimper. Perfect waste of good books.

"You've seen too much …"

Oh no … He really was going to die. "W-wait! Seriously! Y-You can't kill me … I mean, then I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you!"

The male honestly seemed to take this into consideration. "You'll become my maid then. Someone needs to help me tidy up …" Creeper McGrump-pants grabbed Stiles by the back of his shirt collar, dragging him up the stairs. Stiles could do little more than give a little yelp in surprise, clutching the journal closer to his chest. He'd tripped over a few of the stairs, only to be tugged back to his feet by the shirt the other was holding. As soon as they'd gotten up the stairs, they took a sharp right and Stiles was being thrown into a surprisingly clean room. Maybe the fire hadn't quite gotten to all the rooms on the second floor? There were never complete specifics in the books he read. After all, he'd heard that it was a burnt out shell and yet here was a room that had minimal scorch marks on the walls. Looking around, he saw his captor starting to make his way back towards the door and he reached out to grab his arm, immediately regretting the action when King Glare had turned to give him that signature look (Stiles was beginning to think this guy only owned that one expression). He yanked his hand back to his body, clutching the journal closer, "… I ha-have to go home! You can't keep me here! You—I don't even know who you are!"

"Derek Hale," the figure said. "Prince Derek."

Stiles' jaw dropped open. He'd read about the other. Derek had been next in line for the crown. He had been an amazing strategist as well as a negotiator (if not a bit cold towards his potential wives at the different celebrations that the Hale family threw). The only problem was that Derek was supposed to be nothing more than a name in a history book! The Hale family had all died. That was what he'd read! It had to be true! Unless … Someone had been lying? It was possible that someone had written the history books wrong … but all of them? It was something he was itching to research, but there was one problem. "I-… I need to get home … Prince Derek."

"You're not leaving. You're on my land and I need a maid—the other maids died in the fire. You're the first one to brave coming up here so … Congratulations. You're the lucky winner." Derek never once changed that grim expression. Though, Stiles had thought that maybe he saw the other's lip quirk up into the slightest of smirks as he said he was the winner?

"You're supposed to be dead!"

That stopped Derek in his tracks. Turning to face Stiles completely, he moved swiftly and had the other pinned against the wall by his throat. "Well I'm not, now am I? I'm alive and well. You're going to be the maid of the house and you'll like it. Now … Open your mouth again … and I'll rip your throat out. Got it?" Derek held Stiles until the statue-like boy finally gave a quick nod, his lips tightly pressed together so he wouldn't accidentally let out a noise. Dusting his hands off, he motioned to the lavish room. "This will be your room. There's some extra clothes in the dressers—things that managed to be saved. I expect my dinner at seven sharp." The prince seemed to go over this in his head for a moment, determining this was an acceptable 'intro to being Derek Hale's maid' before heading towards the door. Stiles thought he was free finally, but as soon as Derek had reached the door, he stopped and turned. "… Oh … And if you try to leave—I'll make sure you're just food for the wolves that live in the forest."

Derek let the threat linger in the air as he left, leaving Stiles to finally let his legs give out under him and fall to his knees. Now he was a prisoner in some creepy ass castle, with a creepy ass zombie as his kidnapper, and …

He was going to be in so much trouble whenever he got home.

Stiles had been trying to figure out a way to escape when he realized just what time it was. If he was going to have to make the Prince some food and not get his throat ripped out, he was going to have to start immediately. Just great. It took him nearly fifteen minutes just to figure out where the hell the kitchen was and another ten after that just to find food and spices to go into the stew he was planning. Thankfully the thing was finished by seven and he'd had it dished out. Walking out into the dining room, he was planning on seeing Derek waiting for his meal but was greeted by a half burnt table.

For someone who wanted his meal at such a certain time, shouldn't he have been sitting there waiting? He figured he was going to regret it, but he started off into the castle, looking around for the mysterious Prince. A thousand questions swirled around in Stiles' mind and he knew it was going to take everything in his body not to pounce on him and drown him in the questions as soon as he found him.

Stiles swore he must have been walking for an hour and checked a hundred—no…two hundred!—rooms before he found one that was a little more set off than the others. The door was already cracked open so he poked his head in. He saw Derek sitting in front of what had to be the prettiest rose that Stiles had ever seen; and he had seen a lot, mainly from the time, a couple years back, where he'd spent a week trying to find the perfect rose for Lydia only to be upstaged by a brand new horse from Jackson. That asshole. Derek seemed to be seriously focused on the rose to the point where Stiles felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment. He cleared his throat from the doorway, which only caused Derek to jump up and stand guard over the flower before realizing who it was.

"What are you doing in here?" Derek immediately demanded, stomping forwards, causing Stiles to back against the wall, trying not to spill the tray with the food.

"Y-You said s-seven sharp! A-and you weren't there s-so I brought your food and … y-you're not gonna rip my throat out … right?"

Derek took a moment to register the food before nearly shoving Stiles out of the room. He closed the door tightly before locking it with an iron key. "You don't ever go in there, got it?"

"Y-Yeah … got it." Stiles watched as Derek reached out and took a spoonful of the soup before scowling at the taste of it, which only made Stiles terrified about that whole throat-ripping-out scenario becoming a reality once again.

"It's cold."

Seriously? He couldn't believe this guy! "I just spent like … an hour trying to find you! Of course it's cold! It doesn't magically stay hot!"

Not noticing the way that Derek had flinched at the mention of 'magic', he simply began to stalk back to the kitchen, Derek hot on his heels. He emptied the contents of the bowl back into the pot, starting to stir it to warm it back up. It took Derek a while to make sure that Stiles wasn't doing any sort of voodoo over the pot before retreating to the dining room to wait for his food, leaving Stiles to his thoughts. He couldn't get over how beautiful the rose in the glass container was. If he got that for Lydia … Well, surely she'd be his! The only problem with that plan was the fact that Prince Glarek the Great would maul him to death one way or another if he got near that door. Not to mention that he'd just locked the door and he doubted that the Prince left that key anywhere in the open for anyone to get to it.

As soon as the stew was ready once again, he poured some into the bowl and brought it out to Derek who seemed to be staring at nothing. "Your dinner, your majesty …"

Derek raised a brow at the title, but said nothing. Instead he tried the stew as Stiles prepared for him to get upset and throw it everywhere or something. The younger male was pleasantly surprised when he wasn't criticized for his stew. On the contrary, Derek seemed to be gobbling it down as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. "How did you survive?" Stiles managed to blurt out before using the tray he was holding to block anything that Derek was going to throw.

"Long story."

"Obviously I have time since someone refuses to let me go home at all!"

Derek paused, glaring at the other before continuing his soup. "I wasn't home at the time. That's how."

It was blunt, very matter-of-fact and Stiles knew that he shouldn't ask any more. That 'that's how' was a threat just by itself; and yet, that didn't stop Stiles' big mouth from opening and going on, "But all the books I've read said they found your body! I mean, you were there! They could tell by your clothes—so either you're definitely a zombie or you're not really Derek Hale."

At this, Derek slammed his spoon on the table before standing up. He began to unbutton his shirt as Stiles turned red. "W-Whoa, slow down buddy … what're you—" He paused as Derek turned to reveal a large marking on the upper part of his back.

"You know what this is," it was a statement, not a question.

"That's …the Hale family's symbol. I mean, I would've picked something more fancy … I heard the king from the neighboring kingdom has a—" Stiles paused as he was once again on the end of the other's glare. Seriously … How many times could one guy get glared at?

"There's all the proof that you need that I'm part of this family. And if I was a zombie, I'd have parts of me hanging off—which I don't." Derek had a point there. No one would dare to have that symbol burned onto them, it was something that was extremely painful and it could have them killed in the most unpleasant way imaginable if they were caught with it. Stiles watched as Derek sat down, finishing off his stew with Stiles in a stunned silence. When Derek was done, he stood, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "Clean this mess up then get back into your room. Understood?" When Stiles didn't respond, he grabbed the other's arm, "Understood?"

Stiles gave a quick nod before going to clean everything up and hurry off to his room before the Prince of Creepers could attack him for something he did or didn't do again. He lay in the bed, sighing as he thought about how wrong that day had gone. All he had wanted to do was try to find out about the creature with bright blue eyes and now he was Derek Hale's maid. His dad was probably angrily storming up and down the streets trying to find him by now. Maybe he could sneak out the window? No, that was probably impossible … It was an extremely long way down to the ground. He'd just have to sit and suffer until he could come up with a better plan. Plus … He was just exhausted. The only thing that he wanted to do was sleep. Covering himself completely with the warm covers, he thought he heard a wolf howling in the distance as he sunk into a deep sleep.


Author's Note: I apologize for any mistakes, first off. I edit this completely by myself and its finals season so my brain's a little destroyed. Secondly, oh wow, I was so not expecting all the positive feedback I've received from you guys. So here's a chapter up earlier than I'd expected it to be up. I'm glad that so many of you are enjoying it and I hope I don't let you guys down at all. The next chapter might possibly give a bit more background on what happened with the Hale family in this verse. Thank you guys so much, again, for reading!