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Queen Talia Hale needed to take contingency measures. Whispers of a growing rebellion in the south had reached the royal ears, prompting her to send invitations to the powerful lords and their children. Her clear expectation: to secure a beneficial marriage for the second in line for the throne, Prince Derek Hale.
After observing the young Lord Scott McCall’s obvious infatuation with the spirited Lady Allison Argent, few viable suitors remained for the prince's hand. The most persistent, and indeed, the most promising in the Queen's eyes, was Stiles Stilinski, a fifteen-year-old boy whose staggering crush could be seen from the tallest battlements of the Hale kingdom.
The Queen was both amused and deeply impressed by his cunning ways. The young heir of the great Sheriff Stilinski always managed to carve out time to talk to the young Prince. More impressively, he deftly kept the remaining, duller suitors away, or preoccupied, in a manner that sharply reminded Talia of her devious younger brother, Peter. She was certain that, sooner or later, the boy would sneak past Derek’s walls and into his heart with his adorable, unrelenting determination.
This certainty solidified when young Stilinski gifted the prince a striking protection amulet: a golden bracelet set with a radiant emerald, the gemstone of the Stilinski house. It was obvious the simple, yet powerful, jewelry had been meticulously crafted by the suitor himself.
To say the Queen approved of the match was an understatement.
-.-
Despite the fervent hope that the Queen and many others seemed to harbor, the young prince, now eighteen years old, only had eyes for Lady Katherine Argent. The woman was no formal contender for his hand and was a widow ten years his senior.
Of course, no one knew she sparked his attention on purpose and since then she actively encouraged him, rewarding him with sly smiles and knowing winks, and indulging in stolen seconds of conversation here and there. She would lean close, her voice a low murmur, telling Derek how desperately she wished they could be alone, if only the Stilinski boy wouldn’t constantly bother them. She often emphasised how young, naive and inexperienced the suitor was.
"You could tell him you lost his little present," she suggested, her red, inviting lips curling into a seductive smile. "Hide it in the clearing farthest east, and then we could meet on the river bank. Think of the good times we could have."
The prince nodded dumbly. He was, after all, completely smitten with her dangerous allure, and the promise of secret intimacy thrilled him to the core. Derek resolved to do exactly as he was told.
-.-
Despite his acute lack of romantic interest in the younger boy, Derek was not entirely oblivious. The young prince did notice how Stiles managed to cleverly keep the other suitors at bay, but he was too consumed with thoughts revolving around a certain older woman to truly grasp the depth of young Stilinski’s commitment.
Truth be told, he had found the golden amulet beautiful, but he had never once worn it because it made him feel strange, for lack of a better word. He hadn´t had the time to sit down and think about his feelings and responsibilities, too engrossed in the promise of a “good time” with someone like Lady Argent.
The next day during breakfast, Derek mentioned to Stiles how sorry he was that he had probably lost his gift while riding the day before, and that he intended to search for it all morning if necessary. Stiles was instantly eager to help, quickly offering his own time to join the search.
Soon, they were both riding east toward the forest border. Derek listened as the boy, a constant ball of energy, jumped from one topic of conversation to another. He was actually beginning to enjoy the stream of information about wild flowers and their unexpected healing properties when they arrived at the secluded clearing.
They began the search in separate corners, Stiles’s chatter filling the quiet air. Derek seized the chance to quickly conceal the bracelet beneath a fallen log. He had just finished when the servant Lady Argent sent announced that the Prince’s presence was suddenly required elsewhere.
"I’ll stay and find it. I promise," Stiles said, looking up into Derek’s eyes with an earnest determination that made the Prince’s cheeks flush with shame.
"I’m sorry," Derek mumbled, his apology a confession for lying, for not taking the boy seriously, and for wanting to be with Lady Argent so desperately.
But the boy was unaware of the truth. He merely shrugged with a shy, unassuming smile and told Derek to be careful on his ride back.
Derek quickly shushed the small voice in his head that screamed at him for being so unfair. He was too excited to finally be alone with the woman who had been provoking him since they arrived at the castle.
They met at the secluded lake and walked around together. She laughed at him for his naivety, a sound that made him momentarily uneasy, but then her hands were descending into his breeches, and Derek couldn’t remember how to think anymore.
He rode back to the castle late that afternoon with a stupid, undeniable grin plastered across his face. He felt older, somehow, like this secret encounter had changed him in a fundamental way. He knew it wasn’t love, but he felt an intense desire for her all the same, and he craved more of her hands and mouth on him.
He was mildly annoyed by the remaining suitors who tried to close rank on him that afternoon and during dinner, but even amidst their renewed attention, he never noticed that Stiles was missing.
-.-
It was late that night, long after dinner, when Derek was already settled in his private bedchambers, still lost in thoughts of Kate, that his mother sent for him. Once he arrived at the royal study, the Queen and the Sheriff awaited, both of their faces grave with worry.
"Roscoe, Stiles's horse, arrived alone tonight," the Queen began, her voice strained. "He was carrying a handkerchief with the bracelet he gave you wrapped inside."
Derek’s breath caught. There was a horrifying, dark patch of dried blood marring the pale fabric, and Derek felt a cold panic seize his chest.
The Queen explained that no one had seen the boy since he had parted with Derek after breakfast. The Prince however, couldn't respond his words failed him as he stood staring, mesmerized and horrified, at the gold amulet. They had to interrogate Derek until he could finally clear his head enough to admit he last saw the boy near the eastern border of the forest.
Throughout the night and into the early morning, the royal knights, alongside the heartbroken Sheriff, searched every inch of the land. They found disturbing evidence, signs of slave traders infiltrating the east of their territory. Furthermore, it appeared Stiles himself had left a desperate trail of hints when he was captured, or at least that was what the people in the castle whispered.
It was just before dinner the next day that the Sheriff had to be physically restrained to prevent him from violently attacking the young Prince.
The servant who had been sent by Kate, now frightened and guilt-ridden, confessed to seeing the Prince hide the bracelet in the forest before she was instructed by a royal guard to go fetch him for the Queen. Derek realized with sickening dread, that Kate had been so meticulously careful that not even the messenger knew the entire interaction had been a cruel lie.
By midnight on the fourth day, the nightmare became reality Derek Hale was formally accused of plotting the disappearance of Lord Stiles Stilinski, son of the Sheriff the beloved hero of their people.
He couldn't bring himself to confess the entire truth, that the scheme was Kate Argent’s idea because he clung to his belief in her, she swore the last time they managed to see each other that she would never plan anything to actually hurt the Stilinski boy.
The Sheriff was broken, desperate, and utterly enraged by the Prince's callousness, and he was far from the only one. Lord Argent, Lord Whitemore, and other powerful families were very vocal about how severe Derek’s punishment should be.
For the next few weeks, Derek remained locked up in his chambers, a gilded cage within the royal walls. No one was allowed to see or speak to him. The Queen’s decisions and authority were being questioned by the court. The council of lords began planning a formal trial, and the divided loyalties that had plagued the kingdom were now deeper than ever, with animosity spreading like wildfire.
"If you did not desire my son's affection, you should have refused him immediately," the Sheriff's harsh, grief-stricken voice reverberated through the grand chamber. He was questioning Derek once more, in front of the Queen and the assembled Lords. "To have him humiliated when everyone in the realm knows how much love he holds for you... and then this..." The Sheriff could not continue, his voice breaking under the weight of his misery.
Derek lowered his gaze, the overwhelming weight of his lies pressing down on his shoulders. He felt only searing shame and crushing guilt for his actions. He was terrified of his looming future, confused by Lady Argent's betrayal, and uncertain how to even begin to explain his innocence to his mother. His carefully constructed world was falling apart, and he knew, deep down, that no one was to blame but himself.
He was doomed, and he knew he deserved it.
-.-
And then, one unexpected Sunday morning, Stiles Stilinski arrived back at the castle, guiding a procession of twenty rescued slaves.
Derek could hear the cacophony of cheers, and cries of relief echoing even from his isolated golden cage. The people were victoriously praising Stilinski, singing ballads about the House of Heroes and their brave heir.
A few hours later, Derek was finally taken to face the consul, his family, and Stiles. He listened in strained silence, stealing furtive glances toward the boy, but each look only made his heart clench tighter with guilt.
Stiles’s clothes were bloody and filthy, bearing the evidence of his ordeal. He had a large, clean bandage covering his left shoulder, and patches of purple and green bruising stained his naturally white skin. His lip was split, his usually vibrant hair had been crudely cut short, and there was a disturbing quality in his face and body, a profound stillness, a hardness that had certainly not been there before.
The Prince listened when one of the rescued boys testified to the audience that he had overheard the slave traders speaking about kidnapping Lord Stilinski's heir "at the request of the Prince."
Following this explosive testimony, several Lords demanded Derek's immediate execution. The clamor only ceased when Stiles began to speak.
His voice was sharp and clear, radiating an unexpected strength as he faced the relentless questioning of the council. He first pleaded with his father to heed reason over his heart, and then the Queen forcefully joined the argument in his defense.
By the end of the long day, after barely sleeping for weeks, being incapable of eating properly, and having his mind corroded by guilt, it was actually a profound relief when the council finally announced his sentence. Derek Hale was officially stripped of his title and therefore removed from the line of succession for the throne.
-.-
Derek was once again free to walk out of his bedroom, and he was tempted to seek comfort from his sisters, but the shame of his silence and the guilt corroded his every thought, preventing him from speaking or seeking anyone. He knew the sentence was a devastating blow to his mother's political position more than anything, but his brain remained stuck, endlessly repeating the harrowing details Stiles had shared about his capture.
Stiles had been violently attacked shortly after finding the amulet. He had bravely refused to surrender it to his assailants, managing instead to wrap it in his handkerchief and tuck it safely into Roscoe's saddle before sending the horse back to his father. His hand was broken as immediate punishment. Following that refusal, he had been brutally beaten. Hard.
The frantic, cheerful boy who used to chase after Derek was gone, replaced by this grim stranger. Stiles didn't smile, nor did he speak as much as he used to. He was sharper around his edges, and there was an unsettling darkness in his assessing gaze that made even his biggest supporters wary.
A few days later, the remaining lords departed back to their lands. Derek crossed paths with Stiles near the main hall. Stiles paused and offered a stiff, formal bow.
"Your Highness," Stiles said, his tone utterly devoid of warmth. "I apologize for the inconvenience my affection caused you. I only hope the best for you."
Derek was so overwhelmed by shame over his own behavior and the true cost of that affection that he was entirely unable to speak.
-.-
A year passed. A year where Derek had to get used to being only a man living in the castle instead of a Prince. A year where he distanced himself from his family in a self provoked punishment led by his own shame and guilt. He was lost, unable to re construct a new identity, where he struggled to find motivation to keep moving forward.
Then, tragedy struck again, Queen Talia was poisoned. The throne was meant to pass to Laura, the firstborn, but a dangerous rumor -likely spread by their enemies and his sister's rowdy behaviour- began to circulate, claiming she was unworthy of the crown. With Derek formally out of the succession line, the crown fell to the youngest sixteen-year-old Cora.
The underlying rebellion, which had been simmering for years, was now assured to unleash a devastating civil war.
-.-
Derek, haunted by his internal struggles finally came to realize the full repercussions of his actions when the involvement of the Argents in the rebellion came to light.
Gerard Argent was openly leading the faction. The Sheriff, probably still holding a grudge for what happened, sided with him. The people, who admired the Sheriff greatly, were unlikely to oppose them, fueling the danger.
But before matters could truly erupt into chaos, the truth was revealed. The Queen was not dead. She had feigned the poisoning, seizing the opportunity to smoke out the hidden traitors with the Stilinski´s house help.
Witnesses confessed that it was the Argents who had paid and threatened the staff to attempt the poisoning. Other people confessed their involvement with the Argents and how they had been preparing for years to strike. And finally the plot behind the Prince’s disgrace and Stiles's kidnapping was completely cleared.
Lord Christopher and Lady Allison had been aiding the Stilinski house and the Queen, giving much needed information to reveal the truth. However, Gerard and Katherine Argent immediately fled toward the eastern border.
Given the kingdom’s recent turmoil, the neighboring eastern territory seized the opportunity to declare war. The Hales were known to oppose slavery, which was a vital component of the eastern economy, giving them ample motive. Now, with the Argents' valuable inside information, the conflict was inevitable.
Stiles, now a trusted military advisor, accompanied his father, the Sheriff, back to the palace to discuss defense strategies. While there, he quickly bonded Cora, but he studiously avoided Derek like the plague.
-.-
One morning, Derek entered the dining room crossing paths with Stiles who was on his way out. The young man lowered his eyes and avoided even looking at Derek. Once the double doors had closed behind the young Lord, Cora exploded.
"This is ridiculous!"
The Queen attempted to issue a stern warning, but Cora was too consumed by her righteous anger to be stopped.
"It should be you that left! Not Stiles! He is our guest, the hero of the people, the one who helped save our mother and-"
"Cora, that is enough!" The Queen’s voice cut through the air, because she understood the source of Derek’s guilt.
"No, I will not be silent anymore!” She challenged their mother in a way that made everyone freeze. “I have already informed Lord Stiles of my offer of marriage."
The room fell into stunned silence.
"I asked him to think about it until he returns from the front," Cora continued, her gaze unwavering. "Once the war is over, or once we both come of age. It is the best strategy to build a strong bridge between our house and the powerful Lords from the south, especially after we nearly faced a civil war. This will also help us swiftly regain the love and trust of our people."
Laura, ever perceptive let out a slow laugh, impressed. "I think you made a mistake supporting me as your successor, Mother."
The King hurried to intervene, trying to break the tension. "The Queen is never wrong," he stated firmly.
Cora rolled her eyes, but her anger softened as she turned her focus back to Derek. "The absolute least you can do to help the family, Derek, is to finally apologize to him."
Derek was stunned by all of this and needed a moment to process, but one thing he knew was true, he needed to apologize.
-.-
Derek found Stiles near the stables, the air heavy with the scent of hay and leather. A striking blond girl was taming a magnificent horse in the nearby training ring.
Stiles spoke first without looking at Derek after the prince stood silently for a long moment. "Isn't she beautiful?"
Derek followed the boy's gaze to the blonde girl. He saw the genuine admiration and affection glowing in Stiles's eyes, and in that instant, a cold certainty settled over him: Stiles’s desperate infatuation with the former Prince was finally over.
"Indeed," Derek whispered, his throat tight. Why was he affected by this? It was normal right? After all the pain he caused to the young man, it would be irrational to expect-
"My father gave her to me for my sixteenth birthday," Stiles explained with a gentle voice. "Erica is finishing her training now so I can take her with me to the front."
Oh, Derek realized with a jolt. He was looking at the horse.
"I..." He cleared his throat, trying to remember how words work and to find a starting point for his long overdue apology.
Stiles, still focused on the animal, cut him off with a weary tone of forced cordiality, the same unsettling mask he’d worn since his return covered his face again. "Don't worry, Your High- um. Sir Derek. I will refuse your sister's generous offer, so you won't be stuck with me as a brother-in-law."
Derek was unsure how to continue, feeling he was losing his chance. "I have been awful to you. I treated you-"
"Please, don't." Stiles lifted his gaze, his expression distant and closed off. "Sir, I know how annoying my attempts were. I don't truly blame you for what happened, never did. You were perhaps too kind not to refuse me outright from the start."
"Stiles," Derek insisted. But the young man wasn´t interested in any apologies.
Stiles turned to face him fully, the effort clear in his stance. "I only have one question, which I wish you would answer with complete honesty."
Derek steeled himself, bracing for the inevitable hurt.
"Did you ever consider, for a single moment at least, the thought of giving me a chance?"
Derek desperately wanted to say yes. He wanted to lie, to save the man standing before him from more pain, but he knew he was expected to be truthful. He looked past Stiles to the powerful, beautiful horse, then back at the scarred young man.
"No," he whispered, wishing more than anything that he could travel back in time and change that fact. "But I-"
He broke off, silenced by the sudden, utter look of pure devastation that briefly flashed across Stiles’s features. It was a raw wound, quickly shuttered.
The young man blinked the unshed tears away, his composure miraculously returning. "Thank you, Your Highness," he said, the words cuttingly formal. "For being honest. That is all I needed."
Derek felt a fierce urge to move, to stop that look of suffering, to offer a hug, a kiss, any form of comfort or care, but he remained frozen in place. He watched Stiles turn and walk away, the silence in the stables rushing in to fill the void, knowing with terrible certainty that he might never see the young man again.
-.-
Derek presented himself at his mother's study shortly after.
"With Laura on the battlefield, there is a distinct possibility that she might not come back," the Queen stated plainly.
Derek swallowed hard. "I know. The throne will pass to Cora."
His mother nodded, her eyes lingering on him. "You are nineteen now, and we need to think seriously about your future options."
He was no diplomat, nor a natural healer. He was incapable of helping on the front lines and now needed a meaningful way to occupy himself while remaining behind. He might be married off... but currently, there were no advantageous offers, or frankly no offers at all. He was after all a disgrace, the traitorous Hale, the weak ex Prince.
His mother knew this bitter truth. "Cora is right about the critical importance of winning back the love of the people. What do you think about spending time with them? There is much work to be done now that most able bodied men and women have gone to war. The children, in particular, need something to cheer them up."
Derek started doing just that. He helped open a new school, visited the orphanage religiously, and spent hours reading to them. Teaching the children to read and write became a quiet, humble mission in his life.
When the children called him Teacher Derek, he felt something heal inside of him. This is something he enjoyed doing and was good at.
-.-
The news of Laura's injury arrived six months later during a silent family dinner. The next morning, her letter arrived.
"This is not her handwriting," Cora noted instantly, frowning at the envelope.
Dear Mother,
I am sure the news about my injury has reached you already. I assure you there is nothing to be worried about, just a slight cut (a stab, it is a stab wound) on my right shoulder that prevents me from writing right now (and eating, washing, changing, moving freely)
STOP! I know you are writing something else.
What are you… Oh my goodness give me that!
(A paragraph of wildly unreadable scratching)
I apologize for that, Mother. My stubbornness is apparently bigger than my pride. Anyway, my dear friend Stiles Stilinski is currently writing while I dictate.
You little piece of shit! You are doing it again, aren’t you? I swear to the Goddess I will …(I can not write that, the Queen would be very disappointed about the language her first-born___ (the words stopped abruptly with a long line.)
(More frantic scribbles.)
(A different, more structured handwriting begins:)
As I was saying, there is truly nothing to be worried about. I was saved by Stiles’s profound knowledge in the art of healing and am getting better by the minute. I will heal enough to write to you myself soon. Until then, I hope our cook, Vernon Boyd, has some spare time to write down my words. I do not rely on Stiles for that, as he tends to add untruthful and utterly unnecessary commentary.
Love you all, Laura.
P/S the princess should rest and eat more, but she stubbornly refuses. If you could be so kind as to send some royal words about prioritizing her health, we (the whole camp) would be eternally thankful.
When the Queen finished reading the letter aloud to her family, her eyes were glistening with relieved tears.
"She is safe, and surrounded by people who care deeply for her," the King said, kissing his wife’s forehead, visibly moved. "That is all that matters."
Cora immediately asked to draft a response with everyone's input, determined to craft something just as funny and entertaining. The end result was a steady, heavy correspondence between Cora and Stiles/Boyd, often featuring their wildly different interpretations of Laura's condition and temper.
Dear sister,
(and also Lord Stiles Stilinski and the Noble Vernon Boyd,)
I thank you for your most recent letter concerning your health. It is comforting to read that you remain my beloved and infuriatingly stubborn older sister. I trust that the healing poultices we sent arrived swiftly, and that Lord Boyd is managing to keep you confined to your cot.
The Queen, our mother, sends her utmost gratitude for those that care about the Crown Princess and to the whole camp. She requires me to stress, for the third time, that the caloric intake of a warrior must match her expenditure, and that refusal to consume the broth provided by a competent cook is an act of treason against one's own constitution. (I assure you, she is currently supervising the preparation of a new, highly effective, and entirely non-treasonous healing tonic. Beware of that, dear sister, it smells awful)
From the King and our beloved uncle Peter, you receive news of the capital. Apparently the whole town is hysterical since Lord Whitmore finished the repairs to his eastern wall, which is now slightly taller than his western wall and has him hiding in shame. (Men and sizes will always escape me, what difference does it matter?)
I, myself, have secured the provisions for the southern garrisons with help of our dear cousin Malia. She is a source of knowledge I did not expect, but I´m grateful for.
Finally, our brother, Derek, who has been tirelessly assisting with the orphanage and the new schoolhouse, asked that I relay this detail: the rare Moonpetal flower, native to the western Woods you (Lord Stilinski) mentioned on your most recent letter, is only truly effective for treating puncture wounds if the root is first steeped for three hours, not two. (He seemed quite concerned by this botanical oversight. I have no idea why.)
We look forward to your next update. May your camp remain safe and well-supplied.
Yours in Service to the Crown, Cora Hale.
The letters were a welcome balm for their souls. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Derek found himself adding small details and questions to the correspondence.
My beloved Sister Laura,
(and Lord Stiles Stilinski and the Esteemed Vernon Boyd,)
We received your detailed report on the recent skirmish near the river bend. Your tactical advice (Lord Stiles) regarding the use of the terrain has been passed directly to the Northern Command and deemed invaluable. (No surprise there)
My mother is occupied with the new trade negotiations but she sends her blessing. Cora is currently arguing with the royal blacksmith over new arrowheads. Thus, I take this moment to write a brief reply to your last letter.
We have sent a new stock of dried herbs. Please note that among the Artemisia bundles there is a smaller, unmarked packet. This contains Mistletoe Berries. Do not use them in any poultice. They are poisonous, as you well know.
However, the local healers here utilize them, boiled and heavily filtered, for the very deepest psychological wounds. The kind that does not bleed. Should you encounter a soldier suffering from shattered nerves or vivid nightmares, I urge you to consult Boyd before considering its careful, external application.
We hold you all in our thoughts.
In hope of a swift return,
Derek Hale. (Written on behalf of the Crown.)
Derek had been nervous to write about the Berries, it had helped him a lot on his worst days but he didn't want Stiles or anyone to know about his ghosts. In the end he resigned himself to be as honest as he could, because he wasn't there fighting with them, all he could do was this.
The letter that arrived shortly after was crumbled and full of crossed-out words. A simple note was pinned to the inside:
Princess Laura made me recover before it could be destroyed. - Boyd.
Talia read the following message in silence before deciding this wasn't a letter to be read aloud. She simply gave it to Derek without telling the rest of the family.
To the Most Patient and Concerned Family of the Crown Princess,
I send this dispatch once more on behalf of your firstborn, who is currently attempting to hoist herself out of bed, thereby proving the need for a stronger commitment to recovery and less commitment to stubborn defiance. The stitches are holding, despite her best efforts.
The information regarding the new supply routes was gratefully received.
Your family’s recent correspondence included a detailed note on medicinal herbs, specifically the Moonpetal and the uses of Mistletoe. This kind of meticulous research into what should and should not be consumed, and what can and cannot be trusted -especially when given as a gift- is truly enlightening.
I must confess that I find those who take the time to deeply study things they once dismissed as mere weeds to be unexpectedly captivating. It takes a certain kind of person to realize, after time has passed and mistakes have been made, that some of the simplest things hold the most significant power.
I also noted the suggestion regarding remedies for "wounds of the mind and heart." I will certainly relay the suggestion to any soldier whose mind is currently focused on painful regrets and past blunders. It seems that dwelling on these things is a common affliction.
Please be assured that I remain diligent in my duties, both to the Princess and to the war effort.
With Gratitude and a Certain Amount of Weariness, Lord Stiles Stilinski.
Derek's heart pounded in his chest, his hands lightly trembling while he re-read the letter. Could this be true? Was Stiles writing to him? Had he noticed how much Derek wanted to make amends? He hurried to give an answer, before he could overthink it.
To my sister´s most diligent caretaker,
The new moon is approaching and the castle is quiet, too quiet, and I´m alone with my thoughts.
You wrote last month about the difficulty of maintaining vigilance during the deepest part of the night, when exhaustion takes its toll. I remember you mentioning the problem of finding reliable watchers who can remain focused when the threat is unseen. Even if I was allowed to accompany you there, I wouldn´t be the best option since I am the blindest person there is.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot, too. About what it takes to be aware of an enemy that is not immediately visible, and how much it costs to hold that knowledge close.
But also, about the cost to pay when you can´t see the allies you have right in front of you.
If you don´t mind, I want to know what you are reading now, not military strategy, but something for yourself. The children here devoured that dusty copy of Red and the Wolf you mentioned. They asked me to ask you if the hero gets to keep the treasure, or if it causes him trouble later.
Be safe, please. Don’t do anything stupid. The realm needs you.
P.S. I don't want to over step, but maybe you´ll be at least somewhat pleased to know that I wear the bracelet you took so much care into making. Every day. It is still... bright.
Derek
After sending the missive, Derek felt a moment of deep panic. Wasn't this too much? Hadn't he broken Stiles's heart so deeply that he shouldn't be allowed to even think of him?
But he couldn't stop. He needed those stolen words like air, where they pretended to write to others, knowing they certainly weren't.
To the Hale Household,
Our dear Princess Laura has finally been cleared to attempt supervised walks, but she insists that the effort has left her too fatigued to pen a proper reply to your last communication. (She is in fact watching me write this from her cot, attempting to look mournful.)
About the tale of Red and the Wolf, I suspect the treasure caused him far more trouble than it was worth, but that the hero will learn a lot from the ordeal.
Now, about that problem of the watchers and the unseen threat you mentioned.
Any person can be entirely blind to danger if they are looking in the wrong direction, or if they choose to ignore what is plainly visible right under their nose. It is encouraging to hear that some people are finally turning their attention toward the things that truly matter -like the education of children and the safety of family- even when the larger, shinier duty is removed from them. It shows a profound shift in focus, and that is admirable.
It takes a lot of character to do the right thing, the hard thing, when the entire world has already told you that you are not capable of it, or that you no longer have the title to make it worthwhile. (It suggests the man underneath might be stronger than the title he lost.)
We must return to my duties of preventing our Princess from having too much fun.
Your Diligent and Exhausted Scribe,
Lord Stiles Stilinski.
P.S: I´m glad to hear it is still bright.
Derek couldn't stop smiling after that letter.
-.-
The war lasted two agonizing years and finally ended when two more nearby kingdoms joined the Hales against the eastern front. The losing side was forced to declare slavery a crime and surrender Gerard and Katherine Argent to be judged by the Court of Lords. Unfortunately, there was a little miscommunication during the surrender and instead of the prisoners both of their heads were delivered to the royal camp. Queen Talia accepted the mistake as such and immediately offered a grand feast for the returning heroes.
The children Derek taught were ecstatic to see their loved ones come back from the front. Derek himself couldn't wait to see Laura, but he realized his true desperation lay in seeing Stiles again, a truth he didn't dare to articulate aloud. He had consistently used the amulet on his right hand since the war started, feeling deep shame for the stupid, blind boy he had been failing to realize just how beautiful and precious a gift like this was.
Among the nobles who arrived to celebrate the heroes was Duchess Martin, a fiercely intelligent woman whom Derek was instructed to call Lydia.
"That’s a rather nice bracelet you have there," she commented casually during lunch, her eyes scanning the jewel on his wrist.
"It was a gift," Derek replied, looking at it with a mixture of profound fondness and guilt.
"It’s very rare to see such a fine jewel imbued with such a potent protection spell," she commented offhandedly.
Derek frowned at her, but it was his sister who spoke first.
"What do you mean?" Cora inquired, leaning forward.
"I am no expert in high level magic, but I know enough to sense the strength of the protection spell that has been carefully woven into that emerald," Lydia explained. She looked at Derek pointedly. "You must be very loved."
The comment was utterly shocking to the Hale siblings, making Lydia raise an elegant eyebrow in question.
"Protection spells of that caliber are drawn from love. The stronger the love, the stronger the spell. You can't sell a piece like that; the caster must do it themselves, or it simply doesn't work. Therefore, I assume whoever gifted you something so precious must love you a great deal."
Derek shook his head, trying to dismiss the idea. "It was just an infatuation, an old one-"
But the Duchess sharply interrupted him, affronted by his statement. "The spell fades completely with time when the love has ceased." She raised her hand, showing a ring. "This ruby was a gift from my mother to my father. It used to glow even in the darkest of nights. Six years ago, the glow started to fade; now it is just a precious object because of the ruby itself, nothing more." She raised her other hand, displaying a different jewel. "This sapphire was a gift from my grandmother. She died when I was fourteen. It is still glowing brightly, just like your emerald." She looked directly at Derek, locking eyes with him. "There is a big difference between fleeting infatuation and deep, enduring love. If you are not capable of seeing that, I pity the person whose heart you’ve held so tightly for so long."
With that final, devastating statement, she excused herself from the table and swept out.
-.-
After breakfast Cora followed Derek into the quiet shelter of the library.
"We need to talk," she announced in a voice that was startlingly similar to their mother’s, authoritative and unyielding. Laura and Derek often believed Cora must have been a Queen in a previous life. "If what the Duchess said is true-"
"No," Derek cut in, his voice desperate. He couldn't afford to deal with hope now. He was finally close to rebuilding his life; hope would ruin him.
Cora glared at him, hard. "No, what?"
"He can’t," Derek sounded distraught, barely audible. "He was just a boy, and-"
"Derek! How dare you disregard someone's feelings like that!" She took a deep, steadying breath, regaining her queenly control before continuing. "I thought after everything that happened, you would understand. The deep commitment Stiles has shown over and over again, to prove your innocence, to clear your name, to keep your family safe. Because believe me when I tell you he is not doing this because he is loyal to the crown. He is loyal to his loved ones. He has been loyal to you."
Derek couldn't let himself believe her; it was too impossible, too painful a truth.
"Now, he knows you don't love him-"
"What?"
"Well, everybody knows that," Cora stated dryly. "So, we need to plan ahead. Once he arrives, you need to apologize for your past behavior and then, formally bless our union. Otherwise, he won't marry me."
The thought of his sister, or anyone, marrying Stiles made Derek's heart clench in an irrational spike of pain. "Cora, I can't-"
"You will stop your selfish act at once," she commanded. "You might not be a prince anymore, but you are my brother. I know you love our people. Please, just this once, stop thinking only about yourself."
That accusation hurt him to the core. She was right, Derek had always been painfully selfish.
"I used to think the Argent House wanted to take Laura and me out of the picture because they thought you'd be easier to manipulate," he admitted, letting out a long sigh. "But you were born for this, Cora."
Cora just stared at him, shaking her head slowly. "No, dear brother. I was made for this. Just as you could have been if you had only paid attention."
Just when Derek felt he couldn't be more of a failure. "I'm sorry I’m such a failure." He refused to cry, even as his eyes began to sting.
"No, if you were truly sorry you would have tried to change something. Instead, Laura is fueling the gossip, trying to skip responsibilities, and you! You push everyone away, close yourself off, and just stop trying. And I have been left with no choice but to step up to save our family's honor and the hope of our people."
She looked far older and more burdened than he felt, and that was saying something. Derek had lost sight of what truly mattered a long time ago, but if he wanted to be a better man, he needed to start immediately. "I’m sorry, Cora. I... I never thought of it that way."
"I know. You never think of anything but yourself. How you feel. How you screwed up. You made one mistake three years ago, and your guilt trip has been endless. You never once stopped to think how others felt when you pushed them away, or how the people who loved you suffered."
Derek knew she was right in almost all of it, but he had changed, however small his efforts had been. "You are right in most of this, but I have changed. We are talking now, aren't we? And besides, that is not the only thing you got wrong. I... I can't bless your union with Lord Stiles."
That made her explode. "Why?!" She threw her arms into the air before taking a deep, calming breath.
"Because I do like him," Derek confessed, the words suddenly tumbling out. "I... I’m selfish in so many ways, and I want to change, but this... if he really does still feel something for me, then-"
"Then this is your only chance to prove it," Cora calmly stated, her disbelieving expression turning sharp. "I will not step back from the proposal, but you are allowed to make your feelings known and try to win him over. If he chooses you, then I won't oppose it. But don't think for a minute I'll make things easy just because you are my brother. My union with Stiles is a priority for me, and during these two years apart, I've been proving myself to him."
"How?" Derek asked, completely baffled.
"I send him lovers I approve of with each letter, among other things."
"What?!" Derek went instantly pale at the thought. Every single letter had been delivered by Stiles’s lovers? He felt a wave of irrational jealousy. He might have retreated from physical relationships after his painful experience with Kate, but Stiles was free, young, and beautiful, and could have anyone he wanted.
After silently judging her brother's turmoil for long, excruciating minutes, Cora decided to take pity on him. "He rejected all of them. I thought it was because he already had a lover in his tents, but I haven't heard anything of the like."
Derek wasn't foolish enough to think Stiles was a virgin like him, but the thought of Stiles actively rejecting offers, being more... discerning with whom he fell into bed with, made him feel irrationally better.
“Good luck, brother.”
-.-
Derek still believed he didn't deserve Stiles, but his sister was right he couldn't keep being selfish and self-absorbed thinking he knew what others wanted or felt. He would man up and put himself out there. If Stiles rejected him, that would be a painful but acceptable consequence. But if he actually accepted Derek's offering, then... It was worth the shot.
He ended up knocking on his Uncle Peter's door.
"Nephew, to what do I owe the pleasure of this highly unusual visit?" Peter greeted him with an amused smirk.
"I think Cora should be Queen," Derek blurted out. That wasn't what he'd meant to say, but he needed to gather his courage first.
His uncle chuckled dryly. "Yes, well, our law states that the firstborn has the right to be the heir. It is, after all, all about the bloodline."
"I don't want her to marry Lord Stilinski." There, closer to the point.
"Oh, but actually, Cora getting married before Laura could give her a powerful claim to the throne over your older sister."
"Oh. No. I... I just don't want her to marry Stiles," he repeated, feeling his cheeks turn crimson with embarrassment.
"Well, we can surely find a nice, remote place for you to go after the wedding," Peter suggested with politeness. "The young hero will surely cease his embarrassing advances towards you once he is wed. But you are not obligated to stay, either way. We can find you a nice husband, since you're out of the line of succession and therefore forbidden to carry on the family line by having children. A wife is entirely out of the question."
Sometimes Derek forgot the full extent of his mistakes and losses.
"No, Uncle. I mean I... I want Stiles. For me."
Peter stared at his nephew in stunned silence for a long moment, a slow grin beginning to spread across his face. "You came to me because you want to woo the boy you publicly humiliated and rejected?"
Fuck. Of course, the sheer audacity of it was impossible. Derek lowered his gaze, the painful cloud of doubt instantly flooding his mind.
"I'll help you," Peter declared with sudden, bright enthusiasm. "This could be fun."
Derek stared, startled, at his uncle's mischievous grin. "First things first, what do you remember of the young Lord’s methods?"
Peter proceeded to explain in meticulous detail the complex, cunning ways Stiles had managed to keep the other suitors away three years ago. The surprising level of strategic knowledge required to pull off such schemes, the resources, the planning.
Peter also took the time to explain, in surprisingly delicate detail, how men found pleasure and had sex. A conversation which was excruciating to hear from his uncle, but one he knew he desperately needed to have.
It was embarrassing but he ended up taking notes, nonetheless.
-.-
"Stiles spent years looking after your reputation from the shadows. If you want him to notice you, start doing the work no one sees and no one thanks you for."
The advice of his uncle motivated Derek to spend the days leading up to the return of the army, not moping but working hard.
Cora and him coordinated with the council of elders to ensure every returning soldier had a warm meal and a place to rest. His students made simple and colourful decorations to adorn the streets. He wanted Stiles to return to a kingdom that was not just safe, but grateful.
-.-
On the day the banners were sighted on the horizon, Derek didn’t hide. He stood on the lower balcony, his pulse thrumming against the golden band on his wrist.
The procession was a symphony of clashing armor and cheering crowds. Laura rode at the head, looking battle-hardened and radiant, her arm still slightly stiff but her grin as wide as ever. Beside her rode Commander Stiles Stilinski. He looked different, his gaze was sharp, scanning the crowd until it locked on Derek.
Stiles didn't smile, just simply nodded. It was a brief acknowledgment that sent a jolt of electricity through Derek’s spine. It wasn't the look of a boy in love, it was the look of a man who had survived a war and expected nothing from the man who had broken his heart.
The feast that night was a riot of celebration, but for Derek it was a tactical mission. Across the hall, he saw Cora moving toward Stiles with graceful determination.
"Don't just stand there looking like a kicked puppy, nephew," Peter hissed in his ear. "Go. Interrupt. Be accidentally captivating."
Derek took a steadying breath, smoothed his green tunic and moved. In a rare display of royal speed, he slid into the seat next to Stiles just seconds before Cora could reach it. On Stiles's other side, Lord McCall was already lost in Lady Allison’s eyes, leaving Stiles effectively isolated with Derek.
He heard his sister's surprised huff, but couldn't turn around to see her expression.
Up close, Stiles was breathtaking in his dark blue uniform, but it was the silver lines of battle that truly caught Derek's breath. A long scar ran from his right temple down his cheek, and another marked the side of his neck. His shoulders were broader, his presence heavier. Derek looked at the calloused hands that had written those witty, guarded letters and felt a surge of affection so strong it almost choked him.
But as the heavy silence stretched between them, Derek realized he had no idea how to start. He reached for the water pitcher just as Stiles, caught off guard by Derek’s sudden proximity, choked on a piece of bread.
"Are you all right?" Derek hurried to pour a glass, his hands hovering uncertainly over Stiles’s back. He desperately wanted to touch him and feel the heat of his skin, but he held back terrified of being overbearing.
Stiles drained the water in huge gulps, his cheeks flushing a deep red. For a fleeting second, the fifteen-year-old boy peeked through the soldier’s mask. "Sorry. Yes. I’m okay. Just... embarrassed."
"I assure you," Derek said, his voice dropping to a low, gentle register, "there is nothing you should ever be embarrassed about."
When Stiles looked up, his eyes were wide. In the candlelight, the dark brown melted into a liquid gold. They stared at each other, the roar of the Great Hall fading into a hum. Derek finally allowed himself a brief moment of contact settling his hand on Stiles’s shoulder before he slowly let go.
"I don't understand you," Stiles whispered. He looked down at the table, realizing he’d spoken aloud. "I’m sorry, that was-"
"It's all right," Derek replied, quickly refilling Stiles’s glass. He noticed Stiles’s eyes darted down to his wrist, where his bracelet was.
Soon after Cora arrived with other nobles to talk to their hero and Derek stayed in silence, but always refilling Stiles' goblet when needed.
-.-
Derek realized that a single apology wouldn't be enough. He had to prove his interest through consistent action. Stiles was no longer a boy to be wooed with flowers, he was a man who valued reliability and competence.
Over the following week, Derek began by joining his Uncle to the meetings Stiles attended to discuss the future of the kingdom. He didn't talk at all, but brought over a pot of the specific herbal tea Stiles had mentioned liking in one of his letters.
"You remembered that?" Stiles asked one afternoon after the meeting was over and only the both of them remained.
"I remember everything you wrote," Derek said simply, not looking up from his book trying to ignore his burning ears.
Silence stretched for a long while.
“Can I ask…” Stiles sounded careful, “what are you reading?”
“The Odyssey, I started it a while ago. I must say I find Odysseus' misadventures to come back home horrifying.”
Stiles' little smile flourished for a moment, making Derek´s heart skip a beat.
“My heart hurts for Penelope. She didn't deserve her fate. All those years waiting, unable to move on.” The way Stiles said it seemed to have a purpose.
“I can relate with her a little.” Derek admitted, unable to stop his blush. “I didn't- I wouldn't mind the waiting, as long as my loved ones make it home safe.”
Suddenly Stiles' expression shuttered. “Is there… do you… Um. Was there anyone you were waiting for to return?”
Derek doesn't want to get his hopes up but Stiles looks almost as if he thought Derek was waiting for anyone beside him.
“Beside my sister?” He asked and Stiles sagged in relief.
“Of course. Of course, your sister.”
Oh, no. Derek had hope now. “She can be quite the headache."
“Oh, Goodness, yes! So infuriating.”
“It´s a family trait.”
They laughed for a while just sharing stories about Laura. They both stayed there, just breathing in the same room, together, until it was lunch time. When they were exiting the room Derek gathered enough courage to say: “I was waiting for you too.”
Usually, Derek manages to grab a seat next or in front of Stiles successfully most of the time. But today the Sheriff was interfering and Cora won his spot. Derek tried not to look too sour about it, he knew the older Stilinski wasn´t a fan of his, and that was alright.
-.-
"The boy fell for you when he was a dreamer, but the man is a thinker. Challenge his mind, and you’ll capture his heart."
Uncle Peter had a good point, and he felt that after that afternoon in the library Derek could approach Stiles. So he discussed some of the challenges from the schoolhouse to which Stiles animatedly contributed his opinion. Derek makes sure to express his value for every input.
-.-
"He spent his youth trying to protect you. Now, let him see that you are the only place where he doesn't have to be strong."
This advice was particularly hard for Derek, because he had struggled so much with his self worth. How could he be a safe space for anyone? Let alone someone so strong as Stiles?
But then, during a walk with the young Commander the subject of the mistletoe barries came up. Derek recognised that he had used it himself and how much it´d help him.
“I may need to, too.” Stiles recognized.
“I learned the hard way that accepting our limitations is no weakness. Asking for help is ok. The nightmares are hard to deal with, even now.” Derek opened up, determined to be honest.
Stiles nodded, biting his lip for a moment, avoiding his gaze. “I wake up… agitated most nights.”
That confession cemented something between them. He feels proud to be someone Stiles can relay this to.
-.-
The next afternoon, Derek found Stiles in the training ring looking slightly out of air. He silently poured water from the pitcher and signed the maid to leave.
“Here,” He said, and Stiles startled at the sight of him but accepted the offering of water.
The guarded look in his eyes was starting to crack, replaced by a confused, searching one.
"Why are you doing this, Derek?" Stiles asked, his voice rough. "Cora told me... she told me she is trying to win my favour, as if there is some other contestant…” His eyes betrayed him though, there was a light there when he looked at Derek.
"Cora is a strategist," Derek said, his heart pounding. "She thinks in terms of crowns and alliances. I’m thinking in terms of the man who saved my older sister and wrote me letters about Moonpetals.” He took a deep breath. “I told Cora that I wanted to try and win your favor. I’m doing this because I’m selfish, Stiles. I want you to look at me the way you did when you were fifteen, but this time, I want to be worthy of it."
Stiles looked at the bracelet on Derek's wrist and then back at Derek’s face. "You're a very different man than the one I left behind."
"I'm trying to be," Derek promised.
Stiles didn't say yes, but he didn't walk away. Instead, he reached out and adjusted Derek's collar, his slightly trembling fingers lingering on the skin of Derek's neck. "Walk me to the stables?
"It´ll be an honour," Derek replied.
-.-
The castle walls were bursting with murmurs quickly spreading the rumour about how smitten Derek Hale was about Lord Stilinski. Some were angry that the ex-prince wanted the Lord now that he was a war hero, others were hoping Stilinski would humiliate the man as revenge and take one of the princesses as a wife, but most were happy that things were returning to normal, to a time of peace where gossiping about the royals' relationships was the biggest news.
-.-
Cora requested a meeting with him before lunch to make him a strategic proposition.
“Brother, I´ve been thinking and I think I have the answer to our predicament.” She looked regal on her burgundy dress, sitting gracefully on the armchair, all that was missing was a crown. “If you support my union with Stiles, I can promise you that it won't be a romantic one, then you can be his official royal favourite”
Derek almost choked on air, his sister was offering him to be the official lover of the future king.
“Don´t look so surprised, it's a strategic arrangement, where you can be with the man you love and I can fulfill my duties.”
Derek knows she is right, he does, but his heart hurts at the thought of sharing Stiles.
“We don't even know if he will want me.” He manages to admit out loud.
His sister closes his eyes for a moment, probably making an effort to not roll her eyes, Cora sure is a royal in her own right.
“Derek, please consider this, ok?”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looks up at her.. “If he chooses you Cora, I will support the decision. I want him to be happy, and you too.”
-.-
The day Derek heard one of the maids comment about how sad it was that Princess Cora had been rejected by the young hero, his heart almost beat out of his chest.
Derek found Stiles in the castle gardens late that afternoon. Cora had already found her answer, a grateful but firm rejection that she took with Queenly grace. The path was clear, but Derek felt more terrified than when he had faced the Sheriff's rage.
He stepped forward, the gold bracelet warm against his wrist.
"Stiles," Derek began, his voice rough. "I know I have no right to hope... I was a fool, a coward, and unforgivably selfish. I hurt you and humiliated you in front of the entire kingdom because I was too caught up in my own head. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am asking for it."
He looked down at the amulet, then up, meeting Stiles's assessing gaze, ready for the painful refusal.
"I love you," Derek confessed simply, the declaration cutting through the stillness of the evening air. It was freeing, as if a burden Derek hadn't known he was carrying lift up from his shoulders. "I love you.” He repeated, ardently. “I loved you in the middle of all those letters when I realized I was only writing to you. I love the man you are now, the hero you became because of my cruelty. I'm stripped of my title, I'm forbidden from having an heir, and I foolishly lost all privileges to anything good. But I need you to know the truth. I hope, with every fiber of my being, that you can consider a man like me."
Stiles stood utterly motionless, his expression unreadable but then the stillness cracked. The hard, watchful maturity momentarily dissolved, replaced by a flash of the youthful, wide-eyed wonder that Derek hadn't seen in three years.
He was in shock, but he recovered quickly. A slow, tentative smile finally broke through the guarded mask.
"My dear prince," Stiles said with affection. He took a hesitant step closer. "You're a monumental idiot, Derek Hale. But that's probably why I can´t stop loving you."
The kiss that came after those words was soft, and wet from the tears that Derek shed when the relief crushed over him. They held each other in a tight embrace for a long time after. His heart beating so hard he thought he could die of happiness.
“I promise to be better.” He swore.
“You are so good already.” Stiles held him even tighter. “You´ve never seen yourself as I see you. But I will show you, just how amazing you are.”
Derek never really thought about what it will be to have Stiles say yes to him. He was willing to become his lover in case the young Commander decided to marry a woman to be able to prolong the bloodline. But what Stiles proposes is so different, he can't help but be in awe.
“I want to marry you. You can come with me to the Stilinski lands and we can be there, together. I assure you you will love it there.”
Derek smiled happily against Stiles´s lips, “I will love it, anywhere I get to be with you.”
-.-
Lord Stiles Stilinski returned to being that youthful, annoying, and obviously in love young man he once was, all the kingdom was talking about it. But now they also talk about how obviously in love Derek Hale, their ex prince, looked around their hero. How you could see the adoration in his eyes, the dopey grin when spoke about his husband and how his whole face lit up whenever Lord Stiles was near, as if he was the sun incarnated.