Work Text:
Doctor Strange—talk about a kick ass name for a magic user—takes Stiles and Peter to his home base by portal. Just… puts on a ring, waves his hand, and steps through a hole in space time and into a completely different place.
“Welcome to the Sanctum Sanctorum,” Doctor Strange says, and Stiles can’t help turning in a circle, taking in the space with wide eyes. Now this is what a wizard’s home ought to look like! Deaton had always been so… mundane. “Wong!”
Stiles jumps when Doctor Strange shouts. He glances at Peter, who just shrugs, though he’s on high alert.
After a moment, another man appears at the top of the staircase. He’s Asian, dressed in robes similar to Doctor Strange’s but in darker colors. “There’s no need to shout,” he says, descending the stairs. “If I am here, the Sanctum will alert me. If I am not, I won’t hear you.”
“I think you’ll be interested to examine Stiles here,” Doctor Strange says, gesturing at Stiles.
Wong reaches the bottom of the stairs and approaches Stiles. “With your permission?”
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles says, nodding.
Wong waves his hands around, and suddenly there’s a glowing pattern floating in the air between them. He examines it, and Stiles through it, with a frown. Eventually he waves it away. “Someone did not want you doing magic,” Wong says.
Stiles blows out a breath. “That’s what Doctor Strange said. I’ve only met a few people who knew about magic at all. Most of them were bad guys, so I guess it could have been one of them…” he trails off and looks over at Peter.
“But?” Doctor Strange prompts.
“There’s a druid who’s supposed to be helping us,” Peter says, “and he’s never mentioned any problem with Stiles’ magic.”
“A ‘druid’?” Doctor Strange raises his eyebrows and turns to Wong.
“Hmm. A minor sect of sorcerers that broke off from the order in Ancient Greece,” Wong says. “I’m surprised they’re still around; they’re focus was… narrow.”
Stiles snorts. “They’re not only around, they act like they’re the final authority on all things magic. They say it’s their job to ‘keep the balance.’”
“Balance?” Wong huffs. “There’s no such thing. Not magically, anyway.”
“There is a price to pay for magic,” Stephen points out. “That might be where they got the idea.”
“Possibly,” Wong allows. To Stiles, he says, “I can remove the block on your magic, but you will require immediate training. Despite the block, you have clearly been reaching for your power. To do so without training is dangerous, for you and for the fabric of reality.”
“I am totally down for training,” Stiles says, bouncing a little on his toes.
“I’m staying,” Peter says flatly.
“Of course,” Doctor Strange says. Both he and Wong look surprised. “We’d never ask you to leave your bonded, especially not with the energies he’ll be handling.”
“Bonded?” Stiles squeaks. Peter looks just as startled.
Wong sighs deeply. “Druids.”
