A big thanks to TorakoDragon for the beautiful art she drew for FAS!

Also, a huge thanks to Velhalily for her awesome artisty, too!

Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story. We love all of you so much!

Another big thanks to sourandsarcasm, Cempagaldre and saintdoriangray for beta-ing and general awesomeness! Love you guys!


"...Hellooo?" Stiles said curiously, when the silence stretched out awkwardly.

The fact that Stiles had no clue what was going on was a huge understatement. However, he was mostly glad that the sword had veered from his throat and the boot had lifted from his chest. He could breathe. Stiles' heart was still thrashing against his ribcage as he swallowed heavily and sat up, but the woman who had just rounded the corner finally moved. She was jumping into Derek's arms, and the man who was just pinning him down had a bewildered look on his face as he hastily made his way over, enveloping them both in a hug. That was when he noticed the expression on Derek's face.

He looked absolutely gutted- raw and flayed, like every last piece of his armor was stripped away and all that was left was a terrified and defenseless child. It was only after further inspection that Stiles began to see the truth to his expression. It was one of relief; a rare happiness that he had only seen on scarce occasion.

He looked like a little boy who had been separated from his family in a crowd, and had finally been reunited with them. Stiles couldn't even see the irony in his mental comparison just yet, but he would soon enough.

Stiles' confusion was only rivaled by the ugly, green burning in his chest. It was a misguided jealousy, and it boiled his blood for a hot, flaring moment of nausea and pain before something tugged at the back of his mind. Derek had breathed out a name, when the woman had appeared.

Laura...

It only took a moment for the connections to snap together in his mind. Laura was Derek's dead sister. They had only just spoken about her the day previous. Stiles' eyes opened wider, only to narrow again in confusion a second later. For now, though, the scene in front of him seemed far more intimate than it did just seconds prior. Derek was being reunited with a member of his family he had spent the betterment of his adult life thinking had perished in a fire. A fire he was convinced was of his own volition.

Stiles stood, but made no move to be near Derek. Instead, he shied away from the reunion in front of him and let his gaze wander to the three other people huddled away from the rest of them. They looked just as lost as Stiles was, if not more. Before he could address the silent watchers, the sound of voices demanded his attention back towards the spectacle in front of them.

"Derek! Oh, by the Gods! Derek, I can't believe it! I thought- for so many years! And you were alive and-" Suddenly, the woman-Laura-pushed away from Derek, who was still looking more or less like he'd just seen a ghost, and cupped his face.

"Oh, baby brother, this is amazing. I- you need to tell me everything! Everything! Where have you been? What have you been doing? What have you- Fuck! I have so many questions!" She said, fumbling around her own words in sheer excitement. Her eyes looked glassy, as if they were about to spill over with tears of joy at any moment. The man beside them had a hand clasped to Derek's shoulder, a simple yet cheerful grin on his face. Derek's voice was all but absent up to this point, and although Stiles could feel his warrior's happiness, it was heavily buried by guilt and shame. Stiles ached to move to Derek's side, but the moment in front of him stilled his legs. He felt he had no place in the reunion of Derek's family.

It seemed as though Derek felt otherwise. He returned the affection to the both of them, setting his hands on both of Peter and Laura's shoulders before nodding and pulling away. He made his way over Stiles' side again.

"Are you alright?" He asked Stiles in a low tone, reaching up to carefully touch the small nick on the prince's throat from the blade that had been pressed there. Stiles just nodded, resting his own hand over Derek's, pulling it away in a gentle manner.

"I'm fine. Talk to them." He urged quietly, letting Derek know with his eyes that he really was okay.

"I've been with Stiles- my mate." Derek preened loudly, while straightening his posture and wrapping an arm around Stiles' waist to present a complete picture of them as a couple. Instantly, the prince leaned into Derek's side, like it was second nature. The contact seemed to ease them both, if only slightly.

Derek appeared to let his gaze flick from Laura and the man, to the other three werewolves standing a short distance away. It was then that Stiles thought that Derek's reasoning for quickly setting himself to Stiles' side was not only to just inform them of their bond, but to also put himself between the strangers and his mate.

Laura and the older man exchanged surprised looks before she turned back to Derek and Stiles. She was wearing a feral grin that had the prince swallowing the sudden lump that lodged in his throat. She slapped the man-Peter, his mind supplied-on his arm excitedly before making her way over to Stiles who instinctively gripped at his warrior's back.

"Oh Derek! Look at him! He's adorable!" She cooed, sending her grin up to her brother before focusing back at Stiles. "Look at that cute face!" She stopped only a foot away and sniffed audibly, scrunching her nose up, blanching a little.

"Yes, he is most definitely your mate. I can smell your claim all over him. Good God, little brother. It smells like you've been incredibly busy. It's a wonder the poor boy can still stand." Stiles groaned as he felt his skin burn hot with embarrassment, digging his face into Derek's shoulder. Only, Derek seemed all too pleased with his sister's words, sporting a smug smile and puffing his chest out in a self-satisfied pride, all the while tightening his hold on Stiles.

"Well, as we've learned today, anybody could waltz in here. I needed to make sure my claim was fully... asserted." Derek replied as tactfully as he could. Laura rolled her eyes and took a shallow breath from the side, before starting up her advance again. Coming up to Stiles, she took his hand in hers, squeezing gently.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Laura, Derek's sister. That's our uncle, Peter, and our other pack-mates. Erica, Isaac is the scrawny blonde boy, and Boyd. We're... not much of a pack, but that's what we are." She said proudly. As each one was introduced, they either waved or, in Boyd's case, nodded. Stiles let his eyes scan over the other betas quietly for a moment, before slightly pulling away from Derek. His mate gave an immediate, but silent protest but Stiles could hear it in the cut off sound that muffled in the other's throat before it could exit.

Bringing his feet together, Stiles squared his shoulders before taking Laura's hand in his own right grip. He tucked his left fist behind his back, as he leaned forward into a bow, raising the princess's hand so that he could touch her knuckles to his forehead, and then to his lips. It was a formal bow, perfect etiquette for one royal meeting a female royal from a different family.

"Merry meet. It is a miraculous event that brings us together, but it is one I am glad to be a part of, nevertheless." Only, as Stiles said it, Laura bellowed out a hearty laugh, pulling her hand away and poking him on the forehead.

"Silly boy. We don't worry ourselves on trivial formalities out here. You're too cute for words! I could just tuck you in my corset and keep you forever if my brother wouldn't lose his mind!" She teased flippantly as her hand patted at his warm cheek. Stiles flushed with embarrassment, righting himself as he felt Derek's arm firmly wind itself around his waist again. This time the hold felt possessive, a growling sound, low and guttural, emanating from his mate. Though, the underlying threat didn't seem to phase Laura in the slightest. She laughed again, patting her little brother on his cheek with a playful smirk identical to Derek's own rarer version.

"Don't be such a puppy, Der-Der. You're a man now. Childish acts are surely beneath you." She said as her whole body seemed to fall into a familiar routine. Derek snarled, snapping his teeth, though the whole debacle seemed more playful than threatening. Typical sibling bickering.

For a moment, the scene left Stiles feeling like an outsider again. It was visceral, at its core. Despite the many years that had kept the two separate, it was impossible to deny that they were brother and sister. There was an ease between them. As if no time had passed, they picked right back up where they'd left off. To some degree at least.

Stiles noticed that Derek seemed disconnected to a point. He let himself peer through their bond, using the abilities of his empathy to try and understand how he was feeling. The results tore through his heart.

Derek was still under the ruse that this meeting was a farce. It was like he simply could not allow himself to believe that this was anything more than a very intense, and cruel dream. That he'd eventually wake up, and they'd be gone. All of them. Even Stiles. He was wondering what he had he ever done to deserve someone like Stiles. To deserve a second chance with fragments of his family. Every waking moment he feared he'd open his eyes from a blink, and find it was all a delusion.

Before Stiles could think to appease his warrior's fears, he noticed Peter had moved beside them with a fond look and a teasing grin.

"Now now, children. Don't make me leash you to opposite sides of the castle, again. I thought we'd matured beyond that." He drawled out dryly. His hand came up, patting Derek's shoulder proudly.

"Congratulations, dear nephew. The unification of mates is a momentous occa-" Peter stalled, eyes landing on Stiles perceptively.

"Forgive me, but you said your name was...?" He prompted suddenly. It was unsettling, the way his eyes seemed to be piercing into his skin, and with the sudden interest in his name, Stiles couldn't help but feel more than a little vulnerable.

"My name is Stiles." He reiterated, not bothering to bow again, instead seeping further into Derek's side. Peter's eyes seemed to spark with amusement.

"Prince Stiles of Belirti? The witch prince whom was sentenced to death by his own kingdom?" At the words, everyone seemed to tense, Derek's fingers digging almost painfully into Stiles' skin. Stiles nodded once, forcefully, before meeting the man's eyes.

"I was their prince, though clearly I have not been executed." He retorts, dodging the bit of his involvement in the craft.

"Curious," Peter hums. "It was to my knowledge that the Argents had just recently released a decree that you and your pet 'demon' were captured and killed." He said, eyes flitting between both Derek and Stiles knowingly. When neither of them responded, he laughed dryly.

"How unrefined to make such farcical rumors if only to rid the kingdom of its royalty." Though it was said out loud for all to hear, his gaze was fixed firmly on Stiles with a suspicious smirk. Derek wasn't subtle in the slightest as he moved in front of Stiles, as if to shield him away. As noble as the gesture was, the prince was having none of it. He would not hide from who he was any more. He stepped from behind Derek and jut his chin out defiantly.

"The rumors are true. I am what they say. I am a witch." There was a moment when everything was almost painfully silent, everyone waiting for some sort of reaction. Much to Stiles' surprise, Peter only shrugged, and with that, the hostile apprehension dissipated.

"We are not a prejudiced people. Magical Folk are not uncommon in our travels. They are a peaceful kind- mostly." The fact that Stiles was thankful was an understatement, and although he was still leery of Peter, he gave him a pleasant smile before letting Derek pull him back to his side.

Beside them, Laura was still visibly giddy in her excitement of her baby brother and his newly mated, but all too suddenly she seemed to have a dawning curiosity and her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Wait-So... if you're with Stiles now... What happened to..." Peter finished the sentence, their minds quickly falling into tandem.

"Kate. Did she perish in the fire?"

As the name fell from his mouth, Stiles felt his blood run cold as he was consumed by a bitter anger. Yet, an overbearing wave of grief and shame washed over his being. He instantly knew the emotions weren't his own, but Derek's. He drew back his arm, finding Derek's hand with ease and lacing their fingers together. Derek gave a firm squeeze, whether it be from nerves or an appreciative gesture, Stiles didn't know nor care. All he knew was that he needed to be there for him.

The distress was practically tangible and it didn't go unnoticed by the other werewolves. Isaac, Erica and Boyd had all hunched a little lower, assuming a posture that readied them for an attack. Laura's smile had all but vanished, a tentative frown left in its wake, and Peter had already set distance between him and his nephew.

Stiles glanced up to Derek's face to see that his eyes were already looking at him, his expression young and hopeless. Stiles only gave him a gentle look, hoping to convey that he was there and wasn't going anywhere. He cleared his throat, tightening his grip on Derek's hand.

"Do you want me to...?" He offered gently, but Derek only steeled himself, shaking his head in a jerky motion, turning his attention to Laura and Peter.

"I-No. She didn't die in the fire," he grit out, now clutching Stiles' hand like a lifeline. "She- Kate, she started it." Laura gasped and stepped back, her face contorted in a pained disbelief like she had just been physically struck while Peter's eyes flared a dangerous crimson. However, Derek continued with his explanation.

"I spent the years tracking her down... but it was like she had vanished," His voiced dropped, and Stiles could feel the resentment, the self-condemnation; all the things he hid deep within himself seeped through their bond, but he didn't falter. It was as if he knew he needed them to know. He needed them to understand why.

"When my search began to yield no result, I-I gave up and sought out my death to join you. It would not find me though." Stiles felt his heart ache with sorrow. What must it have been like, he wondered? For Derek to spend so many nights, weeks and years, slowly giving up on his life; drowning in his self-loathing. He only realized then that he was pressing further into Derek's side, feeling powerless to ease his warrior's lingering misery.

"Instead, Stiles found me." and with those words, Stiles was left a little surprised, but smiling, because indeed his words were true. He had found him, and now Derek was his as much as Stiles belonged to him.

"Actually, I ran into him." Stiles corrected, verbally staking his own claim. He couldn't act it out animalistically the way Derek did with his family. In that silent moment which followed his statement after Derek had ended his confession, he vowed that he would never let anyone harm his warrior. He would do everything in his power to keep him safe. Before he knew what he was doing, he had pressed his lips to Derek's jaw, chaste and simple, but the meaning behind it was undeniable in its intensity.

However, Derek quickly pulled Stiles to his side, wrapping his arm around him protectively, a growl working its way through his throat. It only took a moment for Stiles to realize that the growl wasn't meant for him, but rather it was a warning to everyone else who seemed to be glaring cautiously at the prince.

Derek was quick to make amends, his eyes flaring blue as he tried to ease their anxieties.

"Heed your thoughts, Stiles is nothing but benevolent. He is no vile sorcerer like Kate. His magick is pure and good. More than once has he used it to save my life and the countless lives of others. He is a selfless man who regards the needs of people before himself." His words hung in the air while they all seemed to stare into one another. Stiles kept silent and still at Derek's side even though he was practically vibrating with a carefully repressed anger to express the truth behind his warrior's statement. Stiles was done with all of the misplaced opinions of the craft. He'd lived his entire life doing nothing but helping others and the land only for them to sneer and cast slander on his people's way, but he knew that now wasn't the time to let his mouth get the better of him. He trusted in Derek's resolve to appease his family and their packmates.

Peter snarled, his posture dangerous. Stiles could feel the barely suppressed rage boiling just under the surface. He turned quickly and left the room, but Stiles didn't miss the shiny gleam of his claws that balled in his fist, nor the blood that was spilling from his hands where he had inadvertently cut into into his own flesh.

Laura regarded his depart with a sad look before turning her attention back to Derek, her shoulders slumped, but Stiles couldn't sense any anger, just an overwhelming compassion and sadness for her little brother. She quickly filled the space between them. Derek tensed, pushing Stiles behind him out of an instinctual need to protect his mate, but was taken by surprise when Laura's arms enveloped him tenderly.

"Fuck, Der. I didn't- By the Gods! I always hated that bitch. I knew she was trouble the moment you dragged her home. I only- fuck!" She was flustered and her anger flared, though it was evident in its intention towards Kate. Her hands rubbed down her brother's back soothingly, and at that, Derek seemed to go lax in her hold. He knew in that moment that his sister did not blame him, that alone was enough to quell a large portion of his guilt and shame.

A low whine left Derek's throat as he let his head fall on Laura's shoulder. She made a soothing sound, a comforting hush. Stiles ached in his desire to siphon away Derek's pain, but he knew that his sister was the person he needed most and he took solace in that truth. Derek wasn't alone anymore. He had family again, and despite the certainty that Stiles would be at his side for the rest of his life, sometimes the comfort of a sibling was better suited to relieve deeper and darker wounds.

Laura slowly drew herself back, ruffling Derek's hair in an affectionate way before peering over to Stiles. He offered her a quiet smile and slight nod. The gesture wouldn't be misconstrued in its meaning as thanks. She was quick to return it, shifting her attention back to her little brother.

"Don't mind Peter. He just needs time. The fire still weighs heavy on his mind." Derek frowned, his head falling a little. Laura bit her lip, giving a once over to everyone in the room before stepping back and clapping her hands together.

"Well! Let's lighten the mood a bit, shall we?" She said with a grin. "Tell me, what's the story between you two? I demand every last detail!" She motioned between the two men in front of her. Stiles flushed, a soft grin taking shape on his lips as he peered up at Derek through his lashes shyly. Derek was staring down at him in adoration, a smirk of his own reflecting back.

"Well, as I said earlier," Stiles began, turning back to Laura with mischief in his eyes. "It all started when this surly knave," he knocked a hand against Derek's chest in jest with an even bigger smile. "So rudely ran me over one day in the markets..."


Derek listened fondly as Stiles animatedly went on a fantastical retelling of their time together. More than once Derek had rolled his eyes when Stiles would exaggerate Derek's grumpy attitude or his fighting prowess during his matches in The Crucible. Though he'd be lying if he didn't feel a swelling of pride knowing that his mate thought so highly of his battle skill. Laura was completely enthralled by the story, laughing loudly and commenting on Derek's more obvious behaviors. Even the other members of the pack seemed to be captivated by Stiles' wild tales, as they were now huddled closer together with faint grins of their own. The prince's animated face and easy laugh had drawn them in, until they were all standing in close proximity, their guard lowered at long last.

At the end of it, Laura was nearly in tears when Stiles had told them about what the kingdom had done to him. It was still a sore topic, one that had Derek pulling Stiles against his chest while he ran his hands up and down his mate's arms. Laura was quick when she finally pulled Stiles away from Derek, in for a tight hug. Derek's hackles raised, but his wolf was now reacquainted with his sister's scent. He easily quelled the desire to snarl and growl at the sight of her touching his mate.

"You poor thing," She said, pulling back to look him in the eye. Her hands cupped his face gently, though a deadly contortion of her features had her donning a menacing scowl.

"Those damned Argents. The next time I see one- Ugh!" She growled. "You'll find my claws ripping them in two." Derek couldn't help the smirk that stole his mouth. This was the Laura he knew. Violent and ruthless, but always confident and sweet on the surface, if not melded with the infamous Hale snark. She sighed, the anger draining from her taut muscles as she reigned herself in and regarded them with a sympathetic look.

"You've both been through much, but I'm glad that you've found each other. You share something special and genuine. Something that I've only seen once before... in our parents." She said softly, pointedly looking at Derek before setting her gaze on Stiles.

"I'm glad my little brother has found a mate in you, Stiles. I see you are good for him. He deserves someone as kind and noble, not to mention lively and jovial, if not to at least balance out all his new dour disposition." She laughed at the end when Derek rolled his eyes and grunted.

"Great, so you know all about us, now tell me, what have you been doing? Why have I not heard anything of you? Why didn't you reclaim Vilkas? Lead our people? Rebuild the kingdom?" Derek's voice began to raise in anger, an anger that didn't bode well with his sister. He hadn't meant to become irate, but as he spoke, the questions flooded and fell from his mouth before he could better compose them. Laura snarled, her own rage bristling to the surface, roused by Derek's crass accusations.

"Me? What of you, little brother? Or do you forget that it is your birthright to take up the crown? You so clearly survived the fire, so why did you flee? Hmmm?" And with that, the easy mood that graced them melted away and was replaced by a heavy tension. Derek was growling, his irritation reaching its peak, though Stiles must have sensed his regret, threading their fingers together once again.

Derek snarled, casting his gaze aside, but noticed that Stiles was giving him a curious look. He must have known what was happening; that Derek was submitting, yet unwilling to answer his sister's questions in fear of being judged for his cowardice.

That fateful night was still ever present in his memories. The feeling of loss and blame, the untamable rage and hatred, all of it directed inward. He didn't let himself stay, didn't even attempt to take his rightful place as Vilkas' King. He was a murderer, a far cry for what the people needed, and when the agonizing screams of his family finally died down; their bonds slowly fading from his mind, he snapped and stopped trying to think or feel or be. He let the wolf take over and receded int the depths of his mind, ran as far away as he could and became the pitiful beast he truly was.

"Derek..." Stiles whispered but didn't speak further. It was killing him to keep silent but this wasn't a conversation he belonged in.

Laura must have smelled the grief and shame for she deflated all at once, huffing out an aggravated breath before flipping the conversation entirely.

"Peter and I have been inseparable since- that night. We were both in the forests, each of us tending to our own hunts. I suppose you could say we were in contest, to see who could bring in the bigger game, you know how competitive I am. Nevertheless, when I heard their howls, I ran back as quick as I could. Peter was already there and he didn't hesitate in his attempts to breach the walls of fire." She ran a hand down her face, almost as if she wanted to wipe the images away.

"He did, you know," She said quietly. "He got in here, and he grabbed the closest child he could, and do you- do you know who it was?" She crossed her arms, her eyes glossy and sad. "It was Molly. His own daughter. She was burning in his arms, Derek. Do you know what that must have been like? To not only see your own kin burning, but to smell it and hear their cries of pain!" She was close to screaming now, the tears falling from her face. She didn't raise her voice further though, in fear that it would fail under the weight of her emotions.

"But he didn't stop. He held her to his body and ran from the Castle, but it was too late. She was already gone and his body was burned and seared with only the charred remains of his child to show for it." She quickly wiped away her tears, coughed to clear her throat, and straightened her posture, inhaling deeply to gather herself. Just like that, there was no inkling that she had just suffered any sort of emotional distress, save for the redness rimming her eyes and the pallid color of her cheeks. Derek wasn't surprised, not only was he too consumed with thoughts of his uncle's pain, but Laura had always been the stronger one. Quick, and cunning; more in control of herself. Unfaltering in her confidence and solidarity. Derek always believed she would be the better leader.

"I tended to his wounds, but he was lost to his own troubled mind. He didn't speak for weeks and he barely moved from the camp we set for ourselves far from the kingdom." Laura made her way over to a wall and leaned against it, making herself more comfortable.

"When the fire died out, I went back in search of survivors, even though I knew it was a futile notion. Not even the bodies remained, only ash." She chuckled dryly, shaking her head.

"I guess I was being foolishly hopeful, as always." Derek wanted to go to her, to comfort his sister who was so clearly drowning in pain, but the reality and the aftermath of the fire never plagued his thoughts, most likely because he never let it. He didn't want to think about the resulting devastation. Only, Laura was telling him now, because she had to live through it. The knowledge that he could have been there-should have been there- shook him to his core. Though Stiles was with him now, and he kept their hands firmly laced while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back. It was the only thing keeping him from breaking down.

"The power of the Alpha transferred to him that night. Slowly his body healed and when he was finally freed from his trance, we retired from the kingdom. There was nothing left for us here. We drifted from place to place, doing what needed to be done to survive. Peter fit into the role of Alpha easily enough, but soon we realized that we needed a new pack. So when we heard of a young girl who was 'possessed' and suffered fits from the Devil, we knew we had our first member." Laura was giving the blond a devious smile. Erica scoffed and rolled her eyes, putting up a wall of feigned disinterest, but Derek could tell otherwise. Erica stepped forward, a sashay to her hips while she inspected her nails.

"They were seizures. Everyone in my village were fools, quick to place blame on evil influence. Perhaps if they would have only taken their heads from their asses, they'd have known it was a more common ailment than they believed. After Peter gave me the Bite, they stopped completely." Erica's gaze flitted between Derek and Stiles who were now giving her their attention. However, Derek's wolf bristled when he noticed her eyes lingering on Stiles and the heady scent of arousal began to permeate the air. Derek pulled Stiles close to him and growled, letting his eyes flash a dangerous blue. Erica only grinned, all sharp teeth and seductive intentions.

Derek decided he didn't like her.

It didn't take but a moment for the darker skinned werewolf-Boyd, he recalled-to pull her back against him with a guttural growl of his own, to which Erica only sniggered at. Laura rolled her eyes, the gesture was so painfully familiar to Derek.

"Puppies..." She muttered under her breath, fondly.

"Boyd is a bit protective." She said, looking at the stockier, more built of the group. "We came across him when passing through the most bigoted little shithole of a town. One I'd rather not see again lest I cut every person open who dwells there." The anger was evident in the way she frowned in disgust.

"The town thought it would be convenient to enslave a race of people based on the color of their skin," she spat the words, her hand balling into a tight fist.

"Boyd refused to listen, of course, stubborn man he is, and for his insubordination, he was sentenced to fifty lashings. When we found him, he was left in an alleyway, bleeding out. Peter offered him the bite if only to ensure his life, but after the change, Boyd asked to join us, a request we couldn't refuse." Boyd didn't pay them any mind, instead opting to nip and sniff at Erica's neck. It was obvious they were a couple, that immediately put Derek at ease. He'd still keep a watchful eye on this woman. No one would take his Stiles away from him.

"And I suppose that would bring us to Isaac" Laura went on, nodding towards the curly haired boy.

At this point, Stiles frowned, and looked a little harder at Isaac. Earlier, they'd all been so confused and busy trying to sort out just what the hell was going on that he hadn't even noticed the tug of recognition he felt for the boy. As if he'd known him before-

"Isaac? Of Draelynn Moore?" Stiles asked at last. Isaac didn't look surprised that Stiles knew him, he merely gave a half grin and a bit of a huffed laugh.

"So you remember me, do you?" Isaac drawled out a bit. It had been years, but of course Stiles would know Isaac. Derek glanced down at Stiles curiously, his eyes showing his question.

"His blood is noble. The heir to a Dukedom, in fact." Stiles explained. "We've met a handful of times at court, whenever his father would be called in for politics, or for festival. Thinking about it now, I haven't seen Isaac, nor his father in a good five years. Duke Lahey began to refuse invitation and summons after-" Derek seemed satisfied with the explanation, and Stiles was glad for it because he didn't feel as though he could continue to tell Isaac's story when he stood to listen. Isaac was obviously uncomfortable at the turn of topic.

"His brother fell in battle and his mother had died of consumption." Laura interjected, giving Isaac a sympathetic look, who was glaring pointedly at the floor now, his humor from before now gone. Derek didn't miss the aborted movement his sister made in what would seem as a need to comfort her packmate.

"All he had left was his father who had sought comfort in his mead and brandy. The things he did to Isaac..." Her voice cut off, eyes flashing amber as she pushed off the wall to pace around the room.

"If it wasn't for Peter and I raiding their stock, he might still be locked in that cellar. He was in there for what looked like days. We knew we couldn't leave him so Peter offered him the Bite and place within our pack; a place where he would be appreciated." Derek took another moment to assess them all.

Their lives were almost as broken as the Hale's, and perhaps that's why Peter and Laura took pity on them? For who would know such pain better than them? Laura must have known what was going through her brother's thoughts, she cleared her throat.

"Like I said, we aren't much, but we look out for one another and that's what matters. We're a pack- family." For some reason, those words seemed to hit Derek deeply. Even Stiles could have sworn he smelled the change in his emotions. Even without their bond, he would have known how Derek felt so completely unwanted in just that moment. Laura wasn't finished speaking though.

"An incomplete pack though it may be, but what can be done when part of your family is off galavanting through distant kingdoms seducing young princelings?" She teased suddenly, with a bit of a grin. "Now, can you stand to take a break from breeding your mate into exhaustion to take a meal with us and talk about joining the pack?"

Stiles was almost certain his cheeks could scald cold milk, with how hot they had become with his blush. "H-hey! I... He.. W-we a..." He couldn't stop stammering long enough to get a cohesive statement out. Just like that, the tension was broken, and everyone, including Derek, was laughing at Stiles' embarrassment.

"Yes, my dear vulgar sister, I think that could be arranged. Mother would have your tongue for the way you speak now." Derek chastised easily, an amicable grin exchanged between them. Stiles, still red to his gills, floundered and whined a little as he stared between the two siblings.

"Derek you-! Laura- I... Oh, you are a cruel bloodline and I'm quite certain now that I don't like either of you at all." He got out finally, turning on his heel and storming from the Entrance Hall down towards the Dining Hall.


It didn't take long for the group to shuffle into their den. Derek's wolf didn't take too well with amount of new people being in his territory, but he knew he could trust his sister's pack. So he pushed back the initial urge to growl and attack. Stiles directed them to take seat around the broken fireplace. Derek watched in satisfaction as each of the wolves scrunched up their noses when the scent of their coupling finally hit their senses. He took great pride in knowing there would be no mistaking who Stiles belonged to.

When each of them were comfortably seated, Stiles looked around nervously. It was a far cry from what he was used to when he entertained guests when he lived in his castle. He might have felt slightly embarrassed, if not a little sullen over the fact that he didn't have lavish foods or fine dishes to present to Derek's family and their pack. In all actuality, the only thing he had to offer them were the scant remains of the herbs he had harvested the day prior. He bit his lip, contemplating the situation, thinking about how foolish he was feeling, when a warm hand settled on his lower back. His neck turned to look behind him, eyes settling on Derek who was staring at him with concern.

"I feel like a terrible host," Stiles whispered. "I have nothing to feed them nor a place to properly seat them. I fear I am making a terrible first impression." He finished in distress. Derek looked like he was about to answer, but before he could, the familiar sound of Laura's laughter filled the air.

"Baby brother, he is too good for you." Stiles took a second to wallow in confusion before remembering the vast amount of lore he had read on the Vilkatins. They have enhanced hearing. Stiles' futile attempts at privacy would be pointless while sharing space with them. He was feeling horribly self conscious when Laura continued.

"I believe I've already told you, do not fret on such silly things like formalities. We are a hardened people, and trivial things like solemnity are of little value to us." She gave Stiles a playful wink, to which he smiled a little, the nerves slowly leaking from his mind. She stood from her perch, farther from the fire than all the rest, Stiles noted, and came to stand beside him and her brother.

"Relax, we are all family here. Don't worry yourself, Prince Charming. If there is tending to be done, it should be us to you. After all, you are in our kingdom, or at least, what little there is left of it." She finished in jest. Derek wanted to roll his eyes at his sister's flippant attitude, but he couldn't deny the intense need to look after and protect his mate. His wolf was practically gnawing at his mind, bidding him to see to all of Stiles' needs. It was a confusing obligation that was undeniable in its demand. So instead of dismissing Laura's suggestions, he was actively siding with it.

Stiles wanted to protest, feeling the need to be a formal host, years of complex teachings of proper mannerisms and customs dictating his desires. However, if Laura was anything like her brother, she would not be so easily swayed. Stiles knew better than anyone that Derek was as stubborn as an ox and he could so easily see the same obstinance in his sister. He let his gaze wander to the other three werewolves, all of them were closely huddled, simple banter exchanged between them, but Stiles knew they could easily hear every word he was saying. He'd have to mind his tongue in their presence. He turned back to Laura, nodding in submission.

"Very well, I will concede. Though, we have nothing to eat. I mean, I have some deliciously healthy herbs, but there is barely any left, and by the way Derek eyes them with such disdain, I'm guessing they would not be to your wolfy-palette's liking either." Derek was about to wholeheartedly agree when a sound twitched his ears. He thought, for a moment, that he was just being overly paranoid, but when the other four werewolves jerked their heads in the direction of the door, Derek's claws and fangs were out in a split second, already forcing Stiles behind him. He briefly wondered why the others weren't the least bit phased, that was, until Peter walked in with a handful of bloodied hares. He threw them out into the middle of the room, with a satisfied smirk on his face. Derek didn't miss the way Stiles jumped a little when some blood splattered haphazardly on the floor. Nor did he miss the horrified expression on his face.

"I hope you're all hungry. Mustn't waste good game. That would be terribly boorish of us." Derek shifted back, the slight touch of Stiles' hand on his back settled his earlier unease.

Laura and Erica came forward, picking up the catch with some wonderment. They were all impressed at just how many Peter had managed to catch. More than enough to feed them all. Stiles had to turn his back when Laura and Erica began to skin and gut the large wild hares, preparing them for cooking. Isaac prepared the fireplace to cook the animals, leaving Stiles to tend to himself.

Derek watched him preparing his own food though, and after a moment, his arms came around Stiles', shooing his hands away so that he could personally fix up his food. Before any of the others were eating, even Peter, Derek quietly saw to it that Stiles ate his own food first.

It earned him a few odd glances from Laura, as well as Peter, but the other three seemed oblivious to the strangeness of Derek's actions.

"Oh man this one was downright chubby!" Erica exclaimed, as she finished preparing the largest hare. Isaac snickered, looking over from the fire he had been stoking into life in the fireplace.

"Boyd was too, before he got the Bite." He teased to Erica. She snarled at him, eyes flashing gold for a moment.

"He wasn't chubby! He was firm!" Boyd watched the two argue with mild amusement on his face. Derek could tell, from the way she defended him, that Boyd was Erica's mate. They always seemed to drift closer together than to Isaac.

"Oh is that what we're calling it now?" Isaac barked out a laugh.

"Better than a bony twig like some blonde, noble twat I know!" Erica's grin was pure challenge. As if he could see what was coming, Boyd took the prepared hare from Erica's hands, a few seconds before Isaac had launched himself onto the girl. They rolled away from the fireplace, wrestling and growling in a ball of blonde hair and limbs.

Boyd laughed a little. "Watch out for the eyes, Isaac. I like those to stay where they are." He warned in his deep, roughly accented voice. He took over Erica's work for now, helping Laura to finishing cleaning the rabbits before tying them up to the makeshift spit over the fire.

Soon, the whole room was filled with the smell of cooking meat, and Peter had at last told Isaac and Erica to settle down. Despite his voice remaining calm and always slightly amused, the betas were quick to obey their alpha. Isaac returned to his previous spot by the fire, and Erica found herself crawling into Boyd's lap where he quietly dusted her off.

"Derek, bring your mate over, join us." Peter urged softly, lowering himself to sit, watching as Laura rotated the Hare's over the fire.

Glancing to Derek, it was Stiles who took his hand and led him over to join the group. It took some urging to get Derek to sit, but before Stiles could take his own spot beside him, Derek had swept him into his lap, much the same way Erica was poised against Boyd.

"There we are." Peter said with a smile. His grin was a little... off, but Stiles didn't say anything. He didn't want to be rude.

"Tell me... Uncle... What have you been doing all this time that you've been a pack?" Derek asked, at last. It was a question that had been pressing on his mind for a little while now.

"Undermining the Templars, naturally." Peter replied as if it were the most obvious answer. Derek and Stiles wore matching frowns of confusion. The image they made together drew a laugh out of Laura.

"Essentially, we go around and play nasty pranks on the Templars. We steal the gold they tax from the towns people all around the kingdom and... redistribute it to it's rightful owners. We kill as many Templar knights as we can, and we sabotage their actions." Isaac explained, a knowing smirk on his face.

Silence filled the room as Stiles felt a strange rumbling against his back. It grew, until he realized it was Derek's chest. Suddenly, Derek let out a howl of laughter, gripping Stiles tightly.

"Pranks, you say?" He finally managed to get out. Craning to look over his shoulder, Stiles stared at Derek in surprise. The man had a wolfish grin on his face. "Stiles... They like to play pranks." He said, raising his eyebrows.

Realization dawned on Stiles' face, and he spun back around to look at the pack that stared at them curiously now.

"I am home at last!" Stiles sang out.


"Derek... Stop." Stiles whispered in a hushed tone. Night had fallen long ago, and after the overwhelming events of the day, everyone had finally bunkered down into their own corners of the ruined castle. Stiles and Derek had secluded themselves back into their own small den of a room, curled together in their nest. Stiles had been tired enough that he was ready to just pass out. But when he felt Derek's warm, bare chest slip right up against his own back, Stiles inhaled deeply. Derek was already aroused.

"Do you ever not have a firm cock?" Stiles hissed under his breath. He still hadn't pushed the wolf's wandering hands away, even though they were working on getting under his clothes.

"I'm always hard when you're near. It's quite bothersome. You need to take responsibility for the way you affect me." Derek growled firmly.

"But they'll hear!" Stiles cheeks were turning red.

"I'll just have to find some way to keep you quiet then." Derek mused. At the same time, one firm hand slid down to wrap around Stiles' own hardened length, while the other fit tightly over the prince's mouth, to muffle his unstoppable moans and mewls of pleasure. At some point, Derek and Stiles both lost their ability to care if anyone heard. Stiles cried out freely while Derek fucked deep into him; howling his own pleasure in perfect tandem.


The very next morning, it seemed like Stiles woke bursting at the seams with ideas for the pack. New, inventive ways to mess with the templars. Even though most of the other wolves were groggy as they rose, Peter at least was attentive and deeply interested in hearing what Stiles had to offer.

"Well, I can tell at least one of you is going to be carrying your weight around here. That is... If you've decided that you will join the pack." He added, the second half of his statement directed exclusively to Derek. He'd given Derek the official offer the night before, and when his nephew hesitated, he suggested the two of them talk it over that night.

"...We'll join." Derek agreed after a moment of last considerations. A broad grin shared between the two men, as well as a handshake finalized the acceptance, before Stiles finally let loose again, explaining the mechanics of his master plans.

Days passed, and everyone had become better acquainted with each other. Both Stiles and Derek had gotten along well enough with the pack. Derek was still obtuse with his interactions. The only person he had truly opened up to was Laura. Not that Stiles expected anything different. Derek was still wary and particular who he gave his trust to. Though Stiles knew with time and better understanding of the others, he'd eventually get there.

The castle had become a command center of sorts. Upon hearing in detail how the Templars had risen to power, Stiles knew that something was awry. The things that Peter and Laura had to say about the happenings of the kingdom and the surrounding cities were baffling at first, but upon further inspection, Stiles could easily tell the Templars had too much power. Something must have happened since his banishment.

There was an unspoken hierarchy that they had all easily fallen into. Stiles and Peter were at its head. Stiles was a natural planner. His childish scheming and the relentless pranks he had bestowed upon his father's guard inadvertently made him a tactile strategist. He easily came up with ideas that he would run by Peter before issuing them to the rest of the pack.

Once, he had Isaac and Erica disguised as the same person, leading a gang of templars through the forest in a vast wild goose chase mixed with a game of keep away, trading off the bag of coins from the collected taxes between the hidden members of the pack until the templars were all separated, and picked off one by one.

Another time, Stiles had managed to convince Peter to have the others help him harvest an entire bucket full of pitch from the trees in the forest. It had taken almost a week to fill the pail, but once it was full, it was time for the weekly tax collection. Hiding amidst the trees, Boyd was the one to pour the gooey syrup on the horseback templars, and Derek only two trees down, poised to dump a bag of chicken feathers they bartered from a farmer in town. In all the confusion and flurry, Isaac managed to swing down from a rope and snag the coin bag, before smacking the horses rumps and sending them on their way back into town, laughter following and guiding them.

Things were simple, for a while. Their nights were spent in a heated frenzy, a desperate need to claim and reclaim each other. It never seemed enough. With every night that passed, Stiles felt like he needed more than the evening before, and Derek was all too happy to give it. He gave more of himself than he knew he had to offer. He wanted to give Stiles everything he had; to fill him with his seed until he was full and spilling at the brim. To drench him in his scent until in a dark room, no wolf could tell who was who.

Their days were spent thinning out the Templars' numbers, while attacking their strongholds and driving them out of the smaller cities. Word spread of their deeds, whispers of a mysterious group that has risen to reclaim the land rid it of oppression.

Stiles was meticulous about everything. He spent hours upon hours plotting out efficient ways to drive out the Templars and stunt their advances. To say that the pack was impressed was an understatement. Even Derek, who was so used to Stiles' flippant attitude and childish demeanor, was surprised at how focused his princeling had become, and how perfectly calculated his tactics were. It brought to light a whole new side of Stiles that Derek had never seen before.

That wasn't the only thing that had begun to catch his eye. Something about Stiles was changing. Stiles' scent had shifted to something less tangy and slightly more floral. He was constantly stretching his back and shifting his weight to alleviate an invisible pressure. Derek also noticed the exhaustion in Stiles' eyes and his lazy movements.

Those were just the things that had changed in his mate.

Derek also realized his Wolf had begun to act differently as well, almost in exact according to Stiles. He found himself, more than once, fighting the urge to hunt with the intent to bring it back to Stiles despite the obvious fact that his prince didn't take part in eating meat. He was becoming more irate with the proximity of others near Stiles. Derek had grown acutely particular on his scent being the only one on Stiles' person; the presence of any other was enough to draw a snarl from his chest and an impulsive session of scent-marking and delicate manhandling. He was feeling exceedingly territorial when it came to his mate, to the point that he even had to fight off the initial reaction of attacking Laura the one time she had playfully nudged Stiles for his genius planning of a raid. It was a subtle change, the shifting of their behaviors unnoticeable for the most part.

It wasn't until Stiles started craving odd things did Derek really begin to wonder about what was going on. Stiles didn't even seem to truly notice it yet, the way he leaned in a little closer, or breathed in a little more deeply whenever there was meat cooking at the fireplace. He looked a little more forlorn to be eating his berries, fruits, and herbs, and the lovely vegetables that Derek had bartered for him.

It was one night where Boyd had managed to catch a Stag, that Stiles finally gave in. Leaning over to Derek's side a little more, he watched the other eat for a long minute.

"Can I... Can I have a bite?" He asked quietly. Derek almost had to do a double take, staring over at his mate curiously.

"Stiles... You don't eat meat." He pointed out slowly, as if he were worried his prince had gone daft suddenly. Stiles pouted and fidgeted anxiously where he sat.

"I know that... But it smells good and I want to try it." He reiterated stubbornly at last. Derek frowned more deeply, but never the less, held up a sliver of his meal for the prince to taste. Minutes later, Stiles had his own plate, and was eating quietly. As if it were truly nothing out of the ordinary. The others paid him no mind, but Derek found himself confused, and completely focused on his mate for the rest of the night.

Two weeks had passed since the day he learned that his sister and uncle were still alive.

Maybe he was just sensitive and over-analyzing everything? No, Derek knew better, and although he didn't know exactly what it was that had taken hold of them, he was very much aware of its presence. The behaviors, the scents, the state of his mind- it all reminded him of something that he couldn't quite recollect. Even if his wolf was in a state of constant bliss at the sight and scent of their mate, Derek had grown cautious; the apprehension he felt tugged at his mind while he tried to unravel the mystery that had captivated them both. He took solace in the dubious thought that this was just how the newly mated worked. Only, his assumptions couldn't have been further from the truth.