-The Influence of One-
Glenn watched as his son groaned again loudly. This has been happening since they left the egység ülés. Stiles was allowing his father to drive the Stiles Mobile since they both came in the Jeep and for Stiles was sure that if he drove that they would get into an accident.
The moment the meeting was over the inner sárkány began its rant of etiquette, manners, and the meeting itself, pointing out all the bad parts without once giving the teen a good comment. You compose your throughout the whole egység ülés Stiles, not just for one moment and then you come back to reality. By this I mean do not call people by their first names during the meeting. Anywhere else is all fine and good but during the egység ülés—no, definitely not. Stiles was already done with his inner beast for the last rant the creature gave him about whatever—being weak or something like that. I never called you weak Stiles. It said before elaborating further. I merely said that you should act more like a sárkány and less like a lowly human.
A lowly human? Stiles conversed with the creature in his head. Just a few weeks ago I was still human! I can't just allow you to say that!
But you yourself had already said that Stiles. You said it because you know it's true. The only difference now is that we're talking about you and you are so prideful that you must defend a form of yourself that no longer exists.
Stiles groaned again. He was losing this battle—again—and he was sick and tired of it—of losing in general. He had lost so many times before when he was just Stiles the human; he won't—will not—allow this to continue as Stiles the sárkány, not when he can live up to so much more than his old, true self could ever do. It's your fault sárkány. You are the one that makes me prideful. Before I didn't even show any pride in myself.
You're right. It is because of me, but Stiles, you must use that pride to better grab a hold of yourself now! You are the sárkány, you have people—beings—calling you 'His Highness' now. That makes it real Stiles. It's been real since the night of your seventeenth birthday. The teen sighed heavily, growling almost as his anger, patience and everything else just boiled over the edge. He would not hear the end of this, ever, it would seem until Stiles fully takes control over his ownbeing. And as for another thing Stiles—what you did tonight at the end of the egység ülés was plainly unacceptable. You do not; in any circumstances tell your Destined that you do not want him or her, even if that is the truth. That is unprofessional and childish.
I don't want him! Stiles thought powerfully, the whole sentence in emphasis. Peter Hale is nothing but a maniac, a psycho and above all a creep! I would never in my right mind be with him!
You best get in that right mind Stiles for you are Destined with him, you will allow him to court you, and you will mate with him. And don't even consider trying to change destiny. You know that you cannot do that, even with your vast power and knowledge.
The teen released a shaky breath as his hands balled into fists in his lap. He felt like crying but that stupid pride of his stopped any tears from even threatening to fall. The sárkány within him continued to rant and criticize the teen and Stiles partially payed attention. He wished he could just tune out the creature but he couldn't, it was in his head, and clear as a bell. Stiles leaned against the window and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired.
Glenn's eyes looked over to his son, eyes droopy with sleep and sympathy. He couldn't possibly know what his son was going through at the moment but at the very least he could do whatever he could for his son. Glenn's right hand lifted off the steering wheel and moved over to grasp his son's wrist gently, the heat from the man's hand creating just enough support to allow Stiles to calmly breathe out deeply. The Sheriff knew that his son probably felt lonely being the sárkány, especially in the first few weeks or month. But that is why the sárkány begins to know of his or hers Destined by around this time (if not a week earlier for it took Stiles longer to truly adapt to being the sárkány), so that they wouldn't be alone anymore. So that someone could be there for them on a more personal level, even more personal than that of being family. The Sheriff sighed, his mind going back to moments before the two got into the Jeep.
Stiles was moving forward towards the passenger side of the Jeep, glancing back to meet eyes with Derek. The Beta stood there, frozen by the truth he learned in the meeting and the fact that Stiles' eyes blew the werewolf away (but it already did that before). From the shadows of the hotel Peter walked slowly between the two, blocking the view for both of them and breaking the eye contact. Stiles' head retracted back and turned in a semi-circle away from the werewolves in the way that a horse would if it got frightened by something and began to back away from the thing that scared it. Stiles escaped into the Jeep while Derek went into the Camaro. If it were any other day he would have drove off, but due to the world hating him, he had to stay for he was his uncle's ride.
The Sheriff walked up to the Alpha. Peter turned to face the man fully, eyes dangerously red but the human knew that the anger was not directed to him. 'So Mr. Hale… I was wondering when it would be more convenient for you to see me so as to discuss—'
'Now.'
'But Mr. Hale, Stiles is quite overwhelmed and—'
'Now.' Peter growled, eyes flashing brightly before they dimmed into a deep, blood red color.
The Sheriff sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew that Stiles heard the Alpha growl at him and was ready to intervene if need be for he felt the strong gaze of his son on his back. 'Being Destined to the sárkány is no easy task.' He began, reciting the centuries old spiel that was handwritten by Atalik himself. 'The sárkány in general are very proud, vain, and above all, involved in many a different thing. You will find that trying to court the sárkány, for courting is needed, that even though he wants you…' Glenn drifted off when the Alpha growled again, eyes flashing again as they narrowed. 'Or will want you eventually,' Glenn improvised, 'he will be extremely interested in others, testing you and your ability. Once you win over him,' If you do even… Glenn thought though he was wise to edit that part out. Glenn himself wasn't so sure why that part was even in there—most of the times sárkány ended up with their Destined. There was only one sárkány who wasn't with their Destined and that was Atalik himself. 'you will begin the desired bonding method as suggested by your kind.' Then came the part of the spiel that could be custom made according to who was the sárkány's Destined. 'Since you are a werewolf then most likely the desired bonding method will be mating correct?'
Peter sighed, the motion seeming to calm him down enough to get his eyes back to their original color. 'Yes… we would be mated.'
The human nodded and an awkward moment of silence fell between them, at least it was awkward to Glenn. 'Was there anything else you might have questions to?'
'No.' Peter replied. 'I understand that I need to court your son, I even understand that I might not get him at all… isn't that correct Mr. Stilinski?'
Glenn nodded. 'Yes, but the only way that would happen is if there was another equally strong or stronger being that comes into town or if uh, the Alpha of Beacon Hills is uh, replaced—so to speak.'
Glenn immediately regrets saying that, if not for his own safety but for that of Derek's safety and it was very rarely did he ever feel concern for Derek Hale. Peter growled and his eyes once again became their scarlet color. He turned on his heels and went towards the Camaro, it was then that Glenn realized that not one person from the egység ülés had left yet; all were watching the interaction between Peter and the Sheriff. Peter growled when he opened the door, the noise loud and deadly, Derek growled back from what Glenn could hear, it was softer, weaker, but it wasn't timid, in fact, it was challenging. From that moment Glenn knew that Derek overheard his last few words and that the real battle between the two family members really truly just began.
As Glenn pulled into the driveway of their home he could only think of one thing… he sure hoped that Derek could handle his uncle for if he couldn't… then there might be one less werewolf in town.
-The Influence of One-
Derek's hands were practically crushing the steering wheel in his hands. The ride back to the Manor was by far the worse situation he had ever been in. Not even his family's death, as horrendous and soul crushing it had been, could compare to the thick air that was in such a small area. No one spoke for if one did then all hell would break loose and no one, no one, would live to see another day, not with the murder that was coursing through the veins of the two werewolves.
Peter busied himself by thinking of way to court Stiles, to make him his as it should be. But the more he thought about Stiles the more his thoughts drifted to his nephew at his side. Then the Alpha would get angry and think of the many ways that he could simply snap his second-in-command's neck, or tear his spine from his back in one fluid motion, or how to tear that body into two with nothing more than his claws. Peter wasn't the one to get violent, not really anyways. Sure when he became vengeful he was crazy as ape shit, that he could admit, but to be as so violent to begin thinking about ways to kill his last remaining family member over some teenage kid was something that he, in a million billion years, would have never thought he would do.
The Beta in the midnight black sports car on the other hand could think of nothing more than how he could gain more power to overtake his uncle in a battle of strength. He would need more followers, Scott and Jackson wouldn't be enough. What he needed was the rest of the Pack to back him up but the other three adolescents were devoted to their Alpha, their father in hindsight, and they would rather die first than depart from his side. Which come to think of it wouldn't be a bad idea: kill the followers before attacking Peter himself. Derek mentally shook his head and willed for his electric blue eyes to return back to their hazel depths. He was not about to kill three teenagers for a teenage boy, even if that boy was Stiles Stilinski, sárkány of Beacon Hills.
Peter wasn't about to kill two teenagers either. Despite how much the two Hales desperately wanted Stiles for themselves; they kept their wits about them. The sárkány is against murder, period. The problem was that to become the Alpha the one challenging but either kill the original Alpha or weaken them to such a state that the Alpha submits which is more often than not never happens. An Alpha would rather die than to submit. In any case it would seem that Derek would have to kill his own uncle and killing more people than is necessary perhaps wouldn't be the best idea.
The Alpha sighed but then smirked faintly. "Derek, what are we to do?" Derek's eyes shot his uncle, set on full stun glare as the Alpha continued. "I mean look at us, we used to be such good friends." Derek scoffed and turned his head back so that he can focus on the road. "I know that before you were wanting to take over the Pack, and I wasn't about to just hand it to you but I was allowing you to rule it partially. But then of course you turned your back on me as well as convinced Scott and Jackson to join your ranks. I made you my second-in-command because you are family, because I could trust you, but now I wish that I hadn't." Peter looked at his nephew and grinned then. "I could demote you but then that wouldn't do much of anything. You would still challenge me for Stiles and you'd have, roughly, the same amount of strength, taking a bit away because you lost your rank but besides that it wouldn't be worth it."
"You point is?" Derek growled out, becoming impatient.
"The point is Derek that I am ordering you to stay away from Stiles."
The Beta glared at his Alpha once more. "Never."
"Well okay then." Peter said as he sighed again. "Let the games begin."
-The Influence of One-
With the moon high above it almost seemed like everything would be a nice night. The moon was full, its light illuminating the secret paths in the woods that only the animals and the sárkány knew. Not even the werewolves and the hunters, who so often trespass this very stretch of land, don't know the many shortcuts the land has to offer. They didn't even notice the river/waterfall/pond-lake combo that ran through the woods. They were so concerned in their own affairs that not once they did stop to truly see what the woods had to offer; of course, only the werewolves just recently discovered the sárkány's pool thus leaving the hunters to still discover the reserve's greatest secret.
The water was the staple of the woods, flowing through the area bringing life where ever it flowed. If the river were to dry who knows what would happen. So many creatures came to the water's edge to drink and play that it would affect the whole sanctity of the woods; it would all crumble away, collapse, even with the erdőben sárkány watching over his woods, the animals… even his magic wouldn't prevent the natural death of a forest gone dry.
It only comes to prove to Stiles that he was, and shall never be, truly strong. He was stronger now than ever before, that much was true, but to be strong enough to stop death? Never. Death was inevitable. All things die, even the mighty sárkány who despite all that they have to them can still be killed by those unwilling to see its beauty, is magnificence, its influence. Stiles used to fear death; death happened to his mother, to the Hale family, to everyone around him, so much so that he feared death would happen to him accidentally or purposely due to his constant being around the wolves. But now, as he realizes, that the fear of death is irrational—it's going to happen wither you like it or not, why fear the inevitable?
The sárkány stared at his reflection at the water's edge, staring for moments before plopping down ungracefully down to the ground, half of his long body in the water, the other half on land.
-The Influence of One-
The sounds of twigs snapping awoke the sárkány with a start. Stiles rose onto his clawed feet, his body floating up from the ground, water dripping down off his body. He looked around, his long concaved ears pointing in all directions, trying to locate the origin of the sound. He wasn't going to lie, he was a bit unraveled. It was the full moon and it was no doubt that the Pack would be out and about which also meant that the hunters were as well.
He so loathed the idea of confrontation in his woods.
The sound happened again and this time Stiles turned around, a complete one eighty, to look straight into the eyes of a certain Derek Hale. The sárkány pushed his head back, surprised that the Beta had found him (while at the same time relieved for he thought it would have been Peter). The sárkány blinked a few times before relaxing. There was no need to fear the werewolf, not anymore. Stiles made an acknowledging noise, urging the Beta to speak since the wolf must want something to have tracked down Stiles' woodsy scent in the woods (a difficult task he was sure).
But Derek never did speak. Just stood there and stared at him. Stiles was beginning to feel uncomfortable. They'll be none of that, Stiles. His inner being scolded him. You are the sárkány, get comfortable. If Stiles was human he would have laughed at his inner sárkány for being so much like him, but instead he opted to just simply smile faintly. He made another noise, a final request for the second-in-command to speak.
He never did.
-The Influence of One-
Stiles screeched when he felt the weight of cloven hooves on his back. Stiles turned his head and saw that the herd of deer (all of them) had found him, and the young ones were currently climbing onto his back, using him as a mountain of sorts. Stiles thought them to be ridiculous. They weren't mountain goats, they were deer. Stiles whined out what would have been a laugh before the thought hit him—he was dreaming before. The sárkány scoffed. Of course it was a dream, it always is a dream. Derek Hale would never track him down in the woods—well… now maybe he would.
Stiles shook his head and stood up slowly, standing on his front legs first to allow the fawns to jump/slip off before standing up completely. The sárkány then "laughed" again when the fawn began to run around and under him, playing with their sárkány and urging him to play back with them. The parents mewled their complaints, all of them reading 'Leave the sárkány alone, he has better things to do.'
But in truth he really didn't. And besides, who wouldn't want to play with a couple of fawns? Stiles swished his tail and watched as some jumped over it and others fell on purpose as to not get hit. What personalities! Stiles thought as he continued to encourage the young deer in their play. Stiles faintly saw in his peripheral vision The Great Prince and Fawn standing together, watching with smiles (that is if they could in fact smile) on their features. Stiles noticed how very pregnant Fawn was and thought: It won't be long now my dear. The thought caused the sárkány to laugh again before he focused back on the fawns around him.
This time he won't fall asleep again.
-The Influence of One-
The deer left a while ago, leaving Stiles by himself again at his pool (he was calling it a pool now, it was just simpler). His head lowered down to the water's surface, his beak opening to allow the crisp clear water to flow in and quench his thirst. Since his neck was so long and curved, Stiles found that he would have to lift his head back up just to allow the water to flow down his throat and into his stomach. He asked his inner beast if there was a better way to do so, it only replied that it would be a bit easier to physically get into the water where it was deep and just allow the water to flow down his throat but that reminded the teen too much of drowning and opted to just stick with the harder way.
It's not that he minded getting wet, with his fur the water just rolled off like the way water rolls off otters' fur. In fact it was very refreshing, especially with the heat slowly coming in. Stiles was just glad that the waterfall was there and easy to access that way if he ever needed just a rinse he could just oop and slip under the water. Quick, easy, simple, just the way he likes it. It wouldn't be as much fun as swimming in the pool (Stiles found when he first fully shifted that the sárkány are remarkably great swimmers despite their large wings which is used for, obviously, flight).
Flight. Still something the teen can't do. The sárkány assured him that once he got a bit more accustomed to being the sárkány that flying should come easily to him. Stiles rolled his eyes. Of course. It was always 'Wait until you're a bit more accustomed, Stiles.' Well, Stiles was tired of waiting, tired of not being accustomed enough.
"Stiles." A voice called his name and Stiles lifted his head, the water in his mouth flowing through his throat which caused him to swallow loudly in alarm, for he, in all actuality, was not expecting to drink more water. He was really just playing with the water for the last few moments. Across the way was Peter Hale, the moonlight shining on him, his hair glimmering in its light, body features being defined despite him wearing his black leather jacket and jeans (though he was wearing a tight shirt). It was remarkable to Stiles how similar in appearance (at least as clothing goes) Peter was to Derek. It must be because they are similar, despite Peter's apparent craziness which died down significantly since he first became the Alpha. Geranium eyes glowed and shined in the light as the Alpha once again recited the sárkány's name. "Stiles…"
An involuntary shiver ran up the sárkány's spine, his whole body shivering with the series of sounds that escaped Peter when the Alpha said his name the second time. It was more lustful, more… provocative. Stiles' inner beast cooed like a dove in his mind and before Stiles knew it he too was cooing, the sound, apparently, causing the same affect on the Alpha. The red eyes matched the smolder on Peter's face, both calling towards him, beckoning him to approach the Alpha of the Beacon Hills Pack, to be his Destined.
Stiles whimpered softly as he stepped into the water. There was no time to waste, he wanted to be beside Peter as quickly as possible and that meant going straight through the pool. Peter seemed to have the same mind set as he stepped into the water too, not caring that his boots were probably beginning to get soaked. Stiles whimpered excitedly: if he were human he would be blushing, majorly. The sárkány couldn't wait anymore so he waded through the water quickly, standing above Peter with his water around his mid calves. His head dipped down and Peter grasped his head between two strong, yet gentle hands. Stiles sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing completely in the Alpha's presence. Peter drew closer, pressing his lips to the sárkány's beak. "Stiles…"
"Stiles!" A yell sounded and the sárkány lifted his head up before turning his head a hundred eighty degrees to see Peter's nephew across the pool, eyes appearing hurt yet still shining in their electric blue depths.
-The Influence of One-
Stiles jumped into the water, head first. When he came out he shook his head out violently, mentally cursing that he had fallen asleep again but this time on his feet. Why am I even falling asleep this much? And what's with all the dreams? Stiles yelled in his head, demanding answers from his inner sárkány.
Those who become the sárkány have… side effects when they discover who their Destined is. It varies but most of the time it's fatigue and vivid dreams—
No shit these dreams are vivid! I swear to God that I still feel Peter's lips on my beak. Stiles shuddered at the thought—at his dream.
As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted… these side effects are only this severe when the sárkány's Destined was not his or hers original love, but all sárkány have these effects. It's due to the inner sárkány, which is me, trying to influence the real sárkány, which is you, that the one who is Destined truly is the one he or she is meant to be with.
Stiles grunted and shook his head quickly again. Instead of trying to argue with his inner beast, Stiles waded out of the pool and thought that perhaps it was best to relocate. His place in mind was his nest, a calm and beautiful place that Stiles wished he could just simply live in all the time but he obviously couldn't. Besides, he hadn't checked the progress of the trillium flowers since a few days ago and he would like to see how the area around his tree was in bloom. The flowers it seemed was nature's way of telling everyone that 'Hey, this is the erdőben sárkány's home around this particular pine tree, be respectful.'
As the sárkány walked he released a big yawn, rolling his shoulders awkwardly as he walked, trying to prevent another "sleeping spell" to spare him from another Peter dream. To distract him from such, Stiles started to think about his current form and how magnificent it was. It was sleek, agile, elegant, his footsteps almost completely silent as he gracefully slinked through the trees and wandered on the paths. Every now and then there would be a twig that snaps under his claws, or he steps on a big pile of leaves that will no doubt create a noise. His feathered wings rested on his back, keeping him cool and yet warm at the same time. Stiles still couldn't figure it out how his wings were able to do both. He concluded that the wings allowed wind to come through his feathers, thus cooling him, but overall it kept him warm and the closer his wings were to his body, the warmer he would be.
It was great, overall, to be the sárkány. Despite all the traditions that he hated (he truly only hated the Destined tradition, all else were doable) and the excruciating pain he experienced when he was first shifting completely and whatnot, all was fantastic. At least Stiles felt more important now, which is all he ever wanted. Before all he did was research for the Pack, get in trouble, be a distraction (in both good and bad ways), get in trouble, research for the Pack and get in trouble again. At least now he could do something else. Though as was the sárkány's nature, he hated to fight, but if he had too he would.
Stiles was just about nearing his tree when by some miraculous power (wither it was a God or the Devil Stiles couldn't tell) Derek Hale ran into his path. They both stopped and looked at each other, the air thick with unspoken feelings and things that needed to be talked about but really couldn't be at the same time. It was excruciating for the both of them, and to make matters worse, all Stiles could think about was his last dream with Peter and how Derek looked upset, broken almost. Stiles made an acknowledging noise, the situation sounding vaguely familiar, but Derek only stood there and stared.
Oh wait… Stiles thought then as he suddenly realized where this déjà vu moment came from. My dream… the first one. Stiles made the sound again but this time, unlike his dream, Derek moved and then actually spoke.
"Stiles… you can't be serious." Stiles cocked his head to the side only to straighten it back up when his inner sárkány scolded him for such a child-like movement. Derek continued to speak, taking the head movement as a sign to go on, which really wasn't at all, it was just confusion. "Peter being your… Destined." Derek cleared up, his voice thick with malice. Stiles made a sound, a sound of empathy for the Beta, but there really wasn't anything he could physically or emotionally good to change who his Destined was.
Silence fell between them and Stiles struggled to figure out how to speak to Derek without actually sifting back and being naked (his clothes was at his nest) in front of the Derek Hale. Stiles… His name was said but it didn't come from his inner sárkány, it sounded deeper, rougher… it sounded like—Stiles… please don't… just... don't.
Stiles blinked. It was Derek's inner wolf. Stiles could hear Derek's inner wolf. Stiles then began to fashion his sounds into words to speak to Derek in this way. 'Don't what wolf?'
Derek blinked two times as he understood Stiles for the first time. His inner wolf was translating for Derek, replying back Stiles words as 'What's wrong Derek?' Derek sighed under his breath faintly before speaking. "Peter isn't… he isn't for you Stiles."
'I know he isn't.' Stiles whimpered out. 'But there is nothing I can do. He is my Destined and I cannot change my own destiny.'
"Of course you can."
'No, I can't. The only thing that could ever physically change my destiny are circumstances and the people around me.'
The Beta stood before the sárkány, pondering over what his inner wolf just translated, reciting the sentences verbatim to Derek now. "How?"
Stiles' inner sárkány then recited in Hungarian: Körülmények változtatni az emberek, az emberek változtatni körülmények.
'Circumstances change people, people change circumstances.' Stiles translated to the inner wolf which then relayed it back to Derek.
Derek's eyes narrowed, not much enjoying the answer he got. "Stiles, I—"
Stiles shook his head, not wanting to hear it quite frankly. 'Derek, let it go. I need to accept it; I can't have you here near me. I just can't.'
"At the meeting, you—"
'I know what I did and I shouldn't have done that!' Stiles groaned back, pushing forward to emphasize before he retracted back, increasing the original space between them. 'Peter is my Destined, and as much as I hate to admit it Derek, you and I would have never happened in the first place.'
"Stiles how can you—"
Stiles squealed loudly, throwing his head back in a flurry of emotion. Stiles turned tail and rushed back the way he came, running as quickly as he could to anywhere as long as it was far away from Derek. Derek was in pursuit, of course he would be, but Stiles was lost to him within moments. Derek slowed to a stop at the edge of the clearing where the sárkány's pool is. He stared off into the shadows on the other side where Stiles ran off to after practically blowing him off all due to some tradition to the erdőben sárkány that Derek increasingly detested even more.
Derek… His inner wolf whined as it felt the astute separation from Stiles and the desire to claim him as its own. Derek closed his eyes as he was swallowed in the desperate, needy mood of his inner wolf.
This chapter took a bit longer than expected. It was kinda insane, not gonna lie while I was writing this. I kept on going back and rewriting stuff (adding, subtracting, dividing, multiplying, that good ol' stuff) and when I thought I liked it I read it over again and was like "Hmm… nope." So I rewrote it again, and again, and again. All this was the scene at the pool where Stiles kept on having dreams and falling asleep. I just had difficulties getting it to where I wanted but I eventually got it.
Anyways, please review for all that beautiful smut that is coming in the next chapter. *winky face* Also next chapter Lydia Martin makes a comeback in the school and as I mentioned smut—like major smut! So REVIEW IF YOU HEART SMUT!
