Work Text:
“My lor--I mean, Your Majesty.”
Derek flinched at the title coming from Stiles’s mouth. “Don’t call me that.”
“But--”
He didn’t want to hear any arguments right now. “I said don’t call me that. Don’t--”
He couldn’t bear to hear that title, not from Stiles.
To his credit, Stiles closed his mouth and regarded Derek with those amber-gold eyes that didn’t miss a single trick. “As you wish, my lord.”
Derek nodded, and one of the bands around his chest loosened. He hadn’t expected to be thrust into the throne so soon, couldn’t bear to lose the easy camaraderie he’d been building with Stiles for the past few years.
He buried his face in his trembling hands. It felt like he’d started shaking three days ago and hadn’t been able to stop since.
“Derek.”
He jerked his head up at the sound of his name. Stiles knelt beside him, his eyes fixed on Derek.
“What?” Derek asked, hating the way his voice broke.
“You are my king--”
“Stiles--”
“You are my king,” Stiles repeated forcefully, startling Derek to silence, “and that means that I will pledge my life to you. As long as my heart beats, I will keep you safe.”
“That is not the pledge I wish you to make,” Derek whispered.
Stiles smirked, like he heard what Derek hadn’t said. “But it is close.” He rested his hand over Derek’s and squeezed. “You are not alone, my lord. I will continue to stand beside you as long as you allow me to.”
Derek threaded his fingers through Stiles’s, this touch the only thing he could allow himself right now. “Thank you, Stiles.”
Stiles bowed his head. “Your wish is always my command, my lord.”