Archive of Our Own

The summer had been tranquil. Sweltering, with the faint hum of insects in the air and the deep scent of perfumed floral blooms permiating the air like smoke from a fire, but not in an unpleasant way. It had been an ordinary summer in the Kingdom of Lis, the ruling family hosting the annual celebration of the Summer Solstice in which the people gathered in the dense forests and ran under the heavy moon, air humid and dense in the thick coats of the foxes dashing through the brush. There was dancing and bonfires and laughter and screams and wails of joy at the prosperity offered to the Kingdom of Lis, but the young Prince Mieczyslaw had to watch in horror as the bonfires caught the precious wood, the air full of perfumed flowers turned acrid with the stench of blood, and the screams of joy morphed into screams of agony.

The summer had been tranquil, until the rogue foxes of the family Nogitsune, thrown from their former glory by the King Stilinski himself for evil and treacherous deeds, held siege on the joyous celebrations of the Summer Solstice. The Nogitsune believed themselves to have killed the last of the werefoxes after the attack, leaving the Kingdom of Lis to be ruled by the Kitsune population. After all, Lis was the land of foxes and not the land of weres.

Little Prince Mieczyslaw, however, had survived. He wasn’t as little as everyone had said, standing at sixteen years of age and freshly presented as an Omega. He was sure to play dead and hide behind a few of the festival tents that had been erected for the celebration to allow the Nogitsune and Kitsune warriors to pass before he made his escape. Fully shifted in the form of a red fox, he ran deep into the Kingdom of Lis and met with a small family of Kitsune that he had known growing up. The Yukimoras. They offered him rest for the night and common clothes, and then and there the prince decided that he would become someone else.

No longer would he live in luxury, surrounded by soft silks and ripe fruits. No longer would people bow to him or call him ‘sire’ or kiss the back of his pale hands. No longer would he hear his birth name - those that had deserved to use it were dead. Mieczyslaw shed his mantle as prince and took up his position as Stiles, the nameless werefox peasant that had scarcely escaped the massacre in the Kingdom of Lis.

No longer would those Stiles loved be killed.

Morning dawned quickly, and Stiles was given his common clothing that he had been promised by the small family he stayed with overnight. A rough cream colored tunic with a few patched holes here and there, and a pair of simple brown trousers. He was given a pair of slightly too-big leather boots from the eldest male Yukimora, and Stiles thanked him greatly regardless. He kept his old cloak - something that was so old and well-worn that it looked as though it were made of poor fabric, stained and tattered at the edges, the once vibrant crimson now faded to a deep maroon. Stiles set off on foot that morning after a short meal of warm gruel, walking where his feet carried him with the hood drawn high over his head, obscuring the small tuft of brown hair that he had grown out since he had presented.

Stiles was thankful that Lis was a private and isolated kingdom, so no one in the other lands he was sure to travel to would know his face. Not the characteristic set of moles on his jaw, or the bright honey-golden eyes that shone like spun gold in the sun, nor the characteristic babble that the servants in the palace had found endearing. He was allowed to recreate himself, just as a smith was allowed to reforge a blade after a harsh battle.

Stiles was going to take every opportunity thrown his way, and make himself grow.

-------

Six days of walking was a lot further than Stiles had originally assumed. He had thought that walking for a day or so would get him to the border of Lis - but he underestimated the difficulty of hilly terrain. The ups and downs made Stiles’ feet ache, and his paws when he had shifted. But after six long, exhausting days of foraging and hunting in the underbrush, Stiles made it to their closest neighbor. Unfortunately, it was the Kingdom of Triskele.

The Kingdom of Lis and the Kingdom of Triskele had never been the best of allies, nor the worst of enemies. They got along as well as wolves and foxes could be expected - the strong personalities of the Hale family occasionally clashing with the headstrong personalities of the Stilinski family. Yet, they were not at war in the current moment. It gave Stiles hope.

He was cautious upon approaching the border, deciding that it would be a better plan to take care of the crossing in his human form as opposed to the fox, so that any shifted wolves on border patrol didn’t mistake him for a tasty morsel.

Stiles walked up through the scent barrier, his fox practically cowering at the strong musky scent of wolf. He walked slowly through the bright green underbrush of the forest, his feet silent on the forest floor. The young Omega walked to a small and fast flowing creek, the water clear and cold. Stiles knelt at the edge of the creek and bent to cup his hands in the freezing water, bringing them up to his face to drink. Eyes closed and palms to his lips, Stiles was focused on the cool water soothing his dry throat when he heard someone clear their throat. He scrambled to his feet and turned around, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

Two males, one tall and broad with caramel skin and messy black hair that looked to be tousled in a way that suggested he had run through the brush in a hurry, and another tall and thin man with curly blond hair and large blue eyes that made him look like a cherub. The first was an Alpha, the second a Beta.

Stiles felt far more intimidated than he had around any Alpha or Beta in his own home.

Perhaps it was because the wolves in front of him were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, perhaps it was the bright supernatural glow of their irises that showed their wolf status with the bright shining gold, or perhaps it was because Stiles had never come across a wolf in person before. Whatever the reason, Stiles could feel his resolve slowly start to crumble. But before he could begin blubbering and make a fool out of himself, the Alpha spoke up.

“I don't recognize you,” he said, his voice smooth and surprisingly soft from an Alpha with a crooked jaw.

Stiles shuffled on his feet and looked at the pair, not understanding if he was to respond. He had not interacted with a knight as a commoner before, and was hesitant to misuse a title.

“Well, go on and speak,” the same wolf urged, his voice a little more impatient.

“O-oh. Pardon me, Sir. I was only walking, I come from Lis, and-”

The tall thin Beta with soft golden curls looked startled and took a step forward, his voice eager when he spoke quickly. “Are you from Lis? We heard word of a massacre of the royals there.”

Stiles nodded meekly, “Yes. The… the Nogitsune family, who m- the King banished many years ago, attacked at the Summer Solstice celebration. There were many commoners there. It was a bloodbath.”

The Alpha immediately stepped forward and rose a brow, “Did you see the attack? How do we know that you’re not from the Nogitsune family? What’s the difference between a Nogitsune and you?”

Stiles shook his head, “I’m a werefox. Kitsune and Nogitsune are different, but werefoxes are different too. We smell more like earth, and Kitsune tend to smell more like their strength. Electricity, fire, the like. Nogitsune smell like darkness and decay - they thrive off of strife.”

The tall Beta looked uncomfortable as Stiles rambled. “Well. You don’t smell like any of that. Just forest and…. Omega,” he said, eyes raking over him slowly.

“Wait, you’re an Omega?” the Alpha asked, looking startled, “I hadn’t scented it on you. How long has it been since you’ve had a real bed?”

Stiles shifted on his feet, feeling almost awkward with the sudden shift to more personal topics. “A week, Sir Knight. But I’m not breakable, and if that’s what you’re suggesting -”

The Alpha looked startled, “Oh, no! Not at all. I only asked because when an Omega is out on the road, sometimes their cycles can be rough without a proper bed. And please, It’s Sir Scott of house McCall. This is Sir Isaac of house Lahey.”

Stiles dipped his head gently, “It is an honor to meet you both. And I am well aware of the dangers of being on the road, thank you. I must ask, Sir Scott, could you point me in the direction of the nearest town or village?”

Scott smiled and nodded, “Of course! Just follow this trail and stay to the right of all forks. It brings you to the capital, and it is maybe a few hours’ walk. There is plenty of work to be found there,” he explained, hands moving as he spoke.

Stiles smiled and gave a small nod in return, pausing before dipping into a small, shallow bow. “Thank you. Sir Isaac, Sir Scott,” he nodded, moving to make sure that nothing on him had gotten more dirty than it had been previously before starting out on the trail.

Scott and Isaac watched the Omega go, glancing at each other before nodding and heading back to continue along their patrol of the boarders.

--------------

Stiles had thought that Lis was something special in terms of architecture. The halls were carved of warm brown granite, smaller ceilings to allow the foxes to feel more secure in their castle, and warm colors to make the space seem welcoming. Lis had been a safe haven for others for as long as the Stilinski line had been on the throne, welcoming of all that did no harm to others for personal gain.

Now that the house Nogitsune had taken over Lis, Stiles knew that the warmth of his home would be destroyed. He would never again see the halls in which he grew up, or the last resting place of -

No. He couldn’t go along that path now.

Stiles had to focus on the Kingdom ahead. Triskele was a large Kingdom, and that much was evident in the looming citadel ahead. The walls were made of a stark grey slate, gates a dark wrought iron with the large swirlings of a triskele emblazoned on each half of the front gates. As Stiles walked through the gates, past the large guards in their dark armor, a chill ran down his spine. He walked through the lower town, homes and shops and people stacked together. Stiles felt cramped.

Stiles made his way through the crowded streets, ignoring the odd looks he got from the wolves and humans in the streets, knowing that they were speaking about his scent. He smells like a fox, and Stiles knew that foxes were rare to find in Triskele, the land of the wolves.

The closest inn that looked semi-reputable, Waxing Crescent, was easy for Stiles to slip into. He simply moved to dip his hand into the small coin purse that was in the pocket of his trousers and drew out two silver coins, hiding them in his palm as he walked up to the front where a woman was standing with a particularly low corset on her ample curves.

“Room for one night, please,” Stiles said, trying desperately to keep his voice low and eyes high to avoid offending the woman. The struggle must have shown on his face, because the woman let out a happy laugh and took the silver coin from the counter.

“You’re respectful, boy. I’ll give you a room with a bed,” she grinned, her smile feral and almost full of fang. Stiles gulped. The woman gave a sharp yell and rang a bell, and a small girl came running forward, her eyebrows thick and hair short and brown. She was stoic, but handed a key to Stiles and practically ran to the steps in the back of the room. They both abandoned the front just as a group of women in revealing outfits from the brothel next door walked in, whistling and grinning at the men.

Stiles stepped into the room and dipped his head to the girl that led him to his room, who looked slightly surprised at the gesture. She bowed her head in return, and left. Stiles looked over the room and gave a pleased nod - it was as good as a man could get with two silver coins. A hay bed, scratchy woolen blankets, and a small chamber pot off to the side of the small room.

It was much smaller than what Stiles was accustomed to, but he wouldn’t complain. He wasn’t a prince anymore, after all.

Stiles pushed those thoughts from his mind and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, slowly unfastening his cloak from his shoulders. He had heard stories of travelers robbed in the night, and he had gotten to the inn at the beginnings of dusk. So Stiles slept with his cloak clutched in his hands, curled up under the blankets in a tight ball, doing his best to forget the sound of screams that had come from his people at the unrelenting assault from the Nogitsune.

Stiles had a long life ahead of him, but it all started with tomorrow.

*************

Tomorrow, as it turned out, wasn’t all that good of a start.

Stiles had gotten the best of life in Lis as the only prince of the Kingdom, but he had gotten to experience life among his people because of how young his parents were, and the lack of pressure on the young prince to take the throne.

He had been able to learn how a forge worked and how to craft basic items, he had learned how to care for horses and work the stables, and he had learned the basics of self defense from training with the knights in the training fields.

The one thing he hadn’t been able to learn in his home was how to live among wolves. Sure, Lis had a few small families of wolves that lived among them, but he had never been the only fox in a land before. Seeing the looks that were shot his way when he walked through the streets was difficult.

The worst were the looks of distrust. Werefoxes had had to deal with the rumors of slyness and trickery for centuries, but it seemed like in Triskele, there hadn’t been time for those prejudices to die out.

Every place of employment that Stiles visited to attempt to get a job turned him away. There was no luck at the forge, or the stables, or the kitchens. Stiles, by some miracle, managed to stumble his way to the Royal Physician. Master Deaton was renowned, even in Lis, as a healer and druid. Stiles was thankful that he knew the name of at least one man here, even if Master Deaton knew his identity.

He walked down the corridor to the physician’s chambers, pausing outside of the doors before knocking. He heard the faint ‘come in’ before pushing the door open, smiling softly at Deaton. He knew that he looked a little rough around the edges and dirty in his peasant clothes, but he was thankful for Deaton’s constantly neutral face when the man looked up from his workbench.

Stiles grinned, “Master Deaton! It’s been a long time,” he smiled, walking forward and giving a small bow to the elder man after ensuring that the door to the chamber had been closed.

Deaton returned the small bow, raising a curious eyebrow. “Prince Mieczyslaw, it has been too long. What brings you to Triskele? And without an announced visit?”

Stiles flushed and ran a hand over the back of his neck, shrugging slightly. “The ordinary happenings, Master Deaton. The family Nogitsune overthrew my family’s hold on Lis, they massacred my people at the solstice festival, and I ran. Oh, and please refer to me as Stiles now, it’s far more… ordinary than my given name.”

Deaton dropped the vial he had been holding when he heard that the Nogitsune had taken over Lis. They had been banished by King Stilinski decades ago, and to have them return on such a sacred holiday for the foxes was almost unimaginable. Yet, Deaton believed the young prince.

“What brings you here of all places, Stiles?” he asked, attempting to keep his mind from straying to the dear friend he had lost in Queen Claudia.

“I… I need work, Master Deaton. I can’t exactly take up the throne here in Triskele. And no one else will look me in the eyes, considering I’m a werefox. One wolf growled at me when I tripped on a stone and got too close to her pup. I was wondering if I could find employ here, even if it’s until I have enough funds to buy a horse to journey further from Lis.”

Deaton gave a heavy sigh, “Stiles, you know that the distrust of foxes runs deep in Triskele. To have one working as a healer could be a very dangerous idea. I believe, however, that I could start you with basic tasks. Cleaning and keeping the stock of herbs up.”

Stiles nodded eagerly, “Thank you, Master Deaton. I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Deaton smiled, dipping his head gently to the boy. Prince. It would take some getting used to. “Have you found residence, since you arrived in Triskele?”

Stiles shrugged and let out a soft sigh, moving to lean against one of the benches, “I spent a night at the Waxing Crescent,” he said, shrugging slightly, “I could find another room, or search for a place to board for a short while.”

Deaton shook his head, “Triskele is no place for a lone fox, Stiles. I have a storeroom that I do not use with a spare cot, you can take that as your room. It is small, but it will function,” he nodded.

Stiles paused and looked up at the other, “Thank you, Master Deaton. I appreciate the offer greatly,” he nodded, giving a small bow. “I can start today, if you need. This is all that I have with me, the clothes on my back, so I will gladly start today.”

Deaton gave Stiles a dubious look, but nodded carefully. “Of course. Go and place the cloak in your new chambers, and I’ll have you begin with tying bundles of yarrow to dry in the rafters.”

Stiles nodded and rushed to his chambers, eager to begin. Little did the fox know, his life would soon turn upside down.

------------------

After two weeks of settling in, Stiles was waiting for the other shoe to drop. His life had been slowly improving in the short two weeks that he had been in Triskele. He was learning the routes and places to find the necessary herbs and items for Master Deaton’s spells, regular delivery routes for potions and medicines, and which people and knights could be trusted.

Stiles had run into Sir Scott and Sir Isaac a few times over the last two weeks, and he had been more than happy to see them. They had been helpful, and made Stiles feel safe in this new alien world. Some people in Triskele were still wary of the fox, but they had slowly warmed to him with the acceptance of Master Deaton and some of the knights.

Stiles had also made friends with a few of the castle staff. One girl he found particular friendship in was Heather. They weren’t the best of friends, but she reminded him of a girl he knew back home. She asked him to help with preparations and serving guests at the upcoming feast to celebrate the eldest prince, Derek Hale, being crowned as next in line to the throne.

The eldest Hale child, Princess Laura, had elected to participate in a political marriage with the Kingdom of Ellis, and their young King Thomas, and had become Queen Laura Hale. She lived there now, and would be arriving as an honorary guest of the Prince for the feast to celebrate his crowning as next in line to the throne.

Stiles had been hesitant to agree to serving at such an important event, but Heather had begged him and Deaton would be taking the week to visit some of the remote villages to offer help healing. So, his fate was sealed. He would be working the feast, pouring wine into the golden gilded goblets of royalty and nobles, while dressed in his new clothes he got from his two weeks of wages.

Stiles and Heather practiced regularly, going over manners and procedure and how to fill a goblet nightly, until Stiles felt like he was pouring wine in his sleep. The feast came almost too quickly, and Stiles was dressing himself after his lunch in his clothes.

After taking a quick and very rare bath, Stiles allowed himself to relax and walk around his small chamber to dry off. He was thinner than he had been before, but still retained his lean muscle on his thin form. Stiles let his fingers slide over his side to his back, feeling over the thin raised lines of the large brand across his back that he had been given at a young age in the shape of a sword, small swirls of fire surrounding it. It was what his name meant, given to him by his mother, branding him as the Sword of Glory for Lis.

Stiles quickly withdrew from that train of thought, trying to ignore the negative feelings that remembering his family held. He pulled on his new trousers, deep brown fabric still rough on his skin, and the thin red tunic looked striking and thin on his form, baring his long slim throat that was dotted with moles. Stiles felt like he looked good enough to serve royalty and nobility that evening.

He met up with Heather outside of the kitchens, allowing her to fit him with a loose neckerchief to keep him from baring his throat to wolves, the deep cream a shade or two lighter than his own pale skin. Stiles greeted every one - regardless of their status - with a smile and a little dip of his head. The cook found some humor in that and slapped him on the back high enough to make him stumble and hit his chin on the stone floor, leaving a scratch.

He got a small honey cake for his troubles.

------------

The feast was rather beautiful, once it was all set up and in motion. Stiles was in charge of the highest dias, where the royals were seated. Which, he had no idea how he got there, but Stiles was going to roll with it. He started with the plates of small meal starters, grapes and small pieces of bread, cheese, and cured meats. Stiles set the platter between the newly crowned Prince Derek and his mother, Queen Talia Hale. Stiles hurried away, and hoped that they didn’t scent that he was a fox. He didn’t want to cause a scene.

Luckily, if they did notice, no one said anything. Stiles backed up and settled against the wall in the back of the dining hall, relaxing until the next course. That is, until the Prince waved him over to fill his goblet.

Stiles stood and moved, ready to pour the wine, when one of the visiting royals, a Princess that was some fifth in line to the crown from the Kingdom Richesse, stood and tapped her silver goblet with the knife provided. Stiles could vaguely recognize the woman from a visit many years ago to Lis when he was a tiny boy - Kate Argent. He remembered her stepping on his tail, and he had hated her ever since.

Kate stood and cleared her throat, smiling brightly. “Pardon me for interrupting, but my family, the Argents hailing from Richesse, have a gift for the new Crowned Prince Derek,” she smiled, nodding happily.

A young serving girl from Richesse stepped forward and moved to gently set an opened wooden box on the high dias table, two intricate silver goblets set inside.

Resuming her speech, Kate cleared her throat. “The largest is for you, and the smallest for me. It is a gift and linkage in hopes that a new, strong alliance can be formed with my people.”

Derek looked stunned. He moved to stand and take the largest silver goblet, neglecting to notice the flower petal dampened and stuck to the inside of the goblet. He motioned back to Stiles to fill the goblet.

Where Derek didn’t notice the faded flower petal inside of the goblet, Stiles caught sight of it immediately. It was pale, as though it had been treated with chemicals, but the shape was immediately recognizable. Aconitum, commonly referred to in Triskele as Wolfsbane. It was deadly to all, but extremely deadly to werewolves. Stiles clenched his jaw and filled the goblet so that the level of wine was lapping at the edge of the petal, waiting to see if the prince noticed.

He didn’t.

Stiles watched with baited breath as Derek gave a speech about the union of Kingdoms, and his heart stopped in his chest when he saw the wolf prince raise the goblet to his lips.

“Wait!” he cried, freezing when the entire room turned to look at the boy who dared interrupt the proceedings of good will between two old feuding Kingdoms.

Kate immediately took offence. “How dare you interrupt your Prince! You’re a serving boy, you have no right t-”

“Let him speak,” came a voice from Kate’s right. The King of Richesse, Gerard, was elderly. But his voice still carried the weight of a guillotine when he spoke in a crowded room. “Let the serving boy speak.”

Stiles swallowed and glanced at the royal family of Triskele, waiting until he received a nod from Queen Talia.

“There is an aconitum petal on the inside rim of the glass. His Highness would die if he drank the wine in the goblet,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

One wolf, someone on the royal dias but not directly related to the royal family, gave a low scoff of indignation. “No one in their right mind would trust the word of a fox. ”

Stiles felt his face flush in indignation at the tone of voice that the man used, but he didn’t speak up. Stiles looked down at his scuffed boots, and he only looked up when the Queen spoke.

“Boy, it is common knowledge that foxes are tricksters. If this is no prank or practical joke, prove it to us in the eyes of the court. Put your life on the line and drink from the goblet. If you do not react, you will be tried for treason. The antidote will be provided if you are indeed found to be truthful”

Stiles paled as the Queen went on, but he gave a nod. He walked over to the Prince slowly, giving a slow nod before taking the goblet into his hand, letting out a shaking breath before taking a deep gulp of the wine.

The court waited with baited breath, and the hearts of many plummeted to their feet as they saw the serving boy gradually grow more and more pale before he collapsed backwards with a dull thud.

Talia nodded gently and moved to stand, “Guards, take the boy to Master Deaton’s chambers. As for the royal family of Richesse - you have made an attempt on my blood. You are banished from Triskele, and we will never treat with you so long as the Argent blood holds the throne. Leave Triskele, you have until nightfall before you will be hunted down.”

Scott and Isaac made a quick leap forward to lift Stiles from the ground, and Scott was the one to cradle the thin boy in his arms and carry him down to Master Deaton’s chambers. He knew that Stiles was familiar with Master Deaton, so he wouldn’t be scared waking up. Which was good.

The Argents were almost in more of a hurry than the knights carrying Stiles. They practically flew out of the room, and the atmosphere in the dining hall was thick.

The guests attempted to continue on with the feast, but Derek left about a candlemark later and the atmosphere only worsened.

Derek left for Master Deaton’s chambers, and the feast fell apart. The trip to the chambers of the royal physician was awfully quiet for Derek, the large man walking through the stone halls. He stepped into the chamber and saw the boy laid out on a cot in the center of the patient bay, pale and clammy looking, with two of his knights on either side.

Scott noticed him first and stood in a rush, Isaac following. “Sire,” Scott murmured, giving a small bow.

Derek waved a hand, “Scott, Isaac. Will he live? Where is Master Deaton.”

Isaac’s face turned grim. “Master Deaton is gone for the next week, treating cases of sickness in the more rural towns. Stiles has been apprenticing under Master Deaton for the past few weeks, but we think he learned something before. We found him running from Lis when he first got to the Kingdom.”

Derek paused. “Lis? He is a fox. Did he say anything about what happened on the Solstice celebration?”

Scott gave a little nod, “He said that he saw it. The Nogitsune, or something, took over. He told us how to pick a werefox from a Kitsune and the Nogitsune by scent. He’s an Omega, Sire,” he explained, looking down at Stiles with a small smile.

Derek himself was an Alpha. An Alpha in gender, but a Beta in pack structure. He looked down at the boy - Stiles the werefox - with a soft frown on his lips. “He must use scent blockers for his gender. I can still only scent his fox on him, not his Omega.”

Scott gave a small nod, “I agree, sire. But I’m more worried about the antidote for the wolfsbane. Master Deaton isn’t here, and Stiles is the new apprentice. So there’s no physician to help us.”

Derek let out a soft sound and ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. “Scott, you know that our people haven’t been able to treat werefoxes for centuries, not since the feud.”

“I know, Sire. I figure that our biologies aren’t too different. Or, I can hope. I haven’t known Stiles for long, but I’m already fond of him. He’s a good man.”

Derek clenched his jaw and gave a tense nod. “Master Deaton should have a small purple bottle somewhere around here. In werefoxes, there is no sure cure for wolvesbane as there is in wolves. We only need to monitor him, and give him two drops of something that Master Deaton has called atropine, because it is derived from a plant called Atropa Belladonna, if his breathing is to slow or his heart to stop.”

Scott nodded eagerly, the floppy fringe of his hair covering his eyes as he nodded so harshly. He scurried to find the small bottle in question and let out a soft sound, sitting on the stool next to the bed in which Stiles was lain. “May I request a leave from knight duties until Stiles awakens, or until Master Deaton returns? Please, Sire?”

Derek didn’t want to lose one of his most loyal knights to playing nurse, but he could tell that this little Omega werefox was important to Scott. He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face, nodding carefully. “You may. But I request that you take shifts with another knight that you trust his safety to - you will not be able to stay awake for days on end, constantly listening to his heartbeat.”

Scott looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded and gave a small bow of his head.

Derek turned and left. For some reason, he couldn’t get milky skin and constellations of freckles out of his head.

------

Stiles woke before Deaton returned, two days later. Scott was on watch and it was early, before the sun rose.

At first, Stiles didn’t understand where he was. In his head, he thought that he was in bed in Lis, and that his father was coming to wake him for a meeting. Only, Stiles didn’t want to get up. He felt like his insides were slowly cooling down from being on fire, and his entire body ached something ferocious.

When Stiles felt a hand on his shoulder, he whined and wriggled in the bed - not his, his brain said distantly - and gave a weak mutter to whoever was above him. “Jus’ five more minutes, please?” he asked, voice slurred and husky.

Scott couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Stiles, you’ve been asleep for two days. It’s time to get up,” he said, gentle but firm.

Stiles sat up as quick as his body could move, eyes wide as he stared up at Scott. Sir Scott, he reminded himself. His reality crashed around him and Stiles let out a desperate whine, memories of the past weeks flooding his brain as if a dam had been broken.

“It’s alright. I suppose you’d be fairly sore after that, your body had to push a load of wolvesbane out of your body to heal itself,” Scott rambled, stepping away and letting Stiles get himself together.

Stiles looked up and blinked, “Oh. I almost forgot,” he murmured, and Scott chuckled.

“I’ll have to let Prince Derek know that you’re awake. His mother and father might want to speak with you. You did save the crown prince’s life, after all.”

Stiles let out a soft sound and tucked his knees close to his chest, pressing his forehead to his knees. “Do I have to?”

Smiling softly, Scott brought over a small bowl of gruel and pat Stiles’ back. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s incredibly likely that they’ll all come to talk to you. I’ll go let them know, alright?”

Stiles nodded and moved his sluggish arms to move with the bowl, bringing the spoon to his mouth as Scott left the room.

Stiles had risked his life in a heartbeat for a man he didn’t know, and it left Stiles feeling unsettled. Was he really that prepared to leave his life behind and enter the second realm? Did the death of his parents and friends impact him greatly enough that he would let himself lose his own life?

Stiles’ introspection was cut short when the door to the physicians chamber opened, and the closest members of the royal family entered. Prince Derek, Queen Talia, and Duke Peter. Peter served as an advisor to the crown, as as the enforcer of the Hale pack. Stiles gulped.

The small werefox moved quickly to dip his head as best he could given the soreness of his joints, and each member of the royal family did so in turn.

Queen Talia was the first to speak. “I must thank you, young man, for saving my son’s life. We have had a tense relationship with the Kingdom of Richesse for a few short generations, and we had no idea that they would attempt such a bold move. If you had not spoken, my son would have died.”

Stiles was almost uncomfortable with the attention. “Oh, Your Highness, I only did what anyone in my position would have done. I know how it hurts to lose a family member, and… I was able to help.”

The Queen gave a small nod and smiled, “regardless, your actions merit reward, young fox. Name your price and the royal household shall pay it.”

“I assure you, Your Highness, a reward is not necessary. I only did what anyone would have. In… in my home, all help each other. This was no sacrifice to me.”

Peter regarded the small fox with a raised eyebrow and let out a little hum. “Your home being Lis, correct?”

Stiles clenched his jaw, but gave a tense nod. Talia seemed surprised by this, but kept quiet.

Peter looked like the cat that had gotten the cream. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and hummed, “Ah, of course. That horrible tragedy that occurred there just three short weeks ago. My condolences. I know that after an event like that, you will surely be seeking to make a life here in Triskele.”

Stiles looked up at the Duke with wary golden eyes and gave a gentle nod. “Yes, Your Grace. I have found employment here under Master Deaton, though. He knew my mother, they were good friends in their younger days.”

Peter hummed and shrugged, “Of course. But no position would be as prestigious as a place in the Royal household, don’t you think, dear sister?”

Talia looked over the fox with interest and gave a small nod. “He did display quite exceptional bravery in his act. Perhaps he could find use being Derek’s personal manservant? After all, Derek will have far more responsibilities now that he is the official Crowned Prince.”

Derek and Stiles both sputtered, Derek out of offense and Stiles out of surprise. The Prince shook his head, “Mother, I have no need for a personal manservant. Let along an Omega fox. ”

Talia’s eyes widened, “Derek Lucas Hale, I have taught you better than to judge others based on their gender, have I not? Stiles is a Fox, yes, but he has proved to us that there is no reason to assume he is here to harm you. Omegas work as servants and simply take heat leave, it is not unheard of.”

Derek looked like a thoroughly scolded pup at the end of Talia’s rant. He gave up quickly and nodded, “Of course, mother.”

Talia brightened and nodded, “Good. Then, young fox, I will expect you to shadow Derek’s current servant for a short week before taking over the duties completely.”

Stiles shifted on himself, “Your Majesty, if I may. My… my mother held a position as maidservant to the King of Lis, and I would go with her to her work when I was young. I remember most of the duties required.”

Talia smiled and dipped her head slightly, “of course. Perhaps only a few days of instruction will be needed, then. I thank you once more for saving my son. May I have the name of the man that saved my son’s life?”

“My name is Stiles, Your Majesty,” he said gently, his voice hesitant.

Talia nodded once more and looked Stiles over, “Tomorrow, early. Get some rest now, and recover,” she nodded, turning to walk out of the chambers.

Stiles watched as the small parade of royals left the chambers and sagged as soon as they left, relaxing and letting himself eat and bathe before letting himself rest for the remainder of the day.

--------------

Stiles hardly slept that night. He was woken at least three times by nightmares of the Nogitsune, their hunger for strife and pain, and the actions they had taken to achieve extreme levels of hurt of their werefox victims.

Stiles had woken screaming the final time, well before dawn, and had decided to get ready for the day.

He dressed himself in a nice blue tunic and the cream handkerchief that Heather had given him, and his handy pair of freshly-cleaned brown trousers. His boots were more worn than he would like, but he was thankful that he had them. Stiles waited until the edge of the horizon was tinged a faint pink before he made his way to the servant’s quarters in the castle.

An elderly man stepped forward to greet Stiles, a wry smile on his lips. “Ah, you must be Stiles. Queen Talia told us you would be here, and I’ve been selected to show you the ropes. A small team of servants had cared for the Prince in the past, but now the duty will fall solely to you. Come, walk while I speak,” he said, motioning ahead with his cane.

Stiles gave a wary nod, but agreed and followed the man from the small serving quarters to the back hallways of the castle, back to the kitchens. Stiles had been to the kitchens before, and dipped his head at the cook once more.

The old man gave a little chuckle at the sight and shook his head, “alright, lad. Each morning at dawn you come to the kitchens to retrieve the Prince’s breakfast. The kitchens will prepare it, have no worry, but you’ll be in charge of taking it to him each day.”

Stiles nodded and stepped forward when the small platter was slid forward on the counter, loaded with cool cuts of meat, preserved selections of meat, as well as a few blocks of cheese and bread, and small grapes. Stiles’ mouth watered at the sight. In Lis there was more fish and fruits, but it still looked good compared to gruel. He picked up the tray and nodded to the elder man, who smiled kindly.

“Next, I’ll show you to the Prince’s rooms. You’ll be in charge of waking him and dressing him in the morning, preparing him for the day, making his bed, and cleaning his chambers. The Prince may also give you tasks like polishing his armor, attending to him in the training grounds, or tending to him on hunting trips.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and nodded gently, almost in awe of all of the tasks he would perform before lunch time alone.

He made sure to memorize the walk up to the chambers and looked at the door, letting out a shaky breath when the older man opened the door into the prince’s chambers.

The rooms themselves were large, the front room containing a large table and desk, two large windows and a wardrobe. The antechamber to the right sported a large bed with rich blue curtains draped from four posts, drawn closed and containing the sleeping Prince.

Stiles gently placed the tray of food on the table and poured a goblet of water that had been left on the sill to chill overnight, looking at the older man.

“Go and wake him up now. Get him up, but remember he’s a prince,” the old man said gently, his voice deep and firm.

Stiles looked up, panicked for a brief second, before he squared his shoulders and nodded before walking into the large chamber, in awe at how much warmer it seemed to be in the small chamber. He drew back the curtains on the large window in the room first, letting the now-golden sunlight filter in and illuminate the deep royal blue of the curtains.

Stiles paused and took a moment to try and think of how he’d want to be woken in the mornings and gave a small nod, bracing himself before he smiled and threw open the curtains to the bed, facing away to preserve the prince’s privacy.

“Good morning lazy daisy! Time to start the day!” he grinned, glancing down at the prince. There was a moment of regret when he saw the broad, shirtless back laid out among the deep grey sheets, black triskelion standing out in the beautiful expanse of muscled back. Stiles let out a soft sigh and clenched his toes to try and fend off the soft wave of arousal from the sight. Foxes were leaner and thinner, and Stiles had always seen those that were… bigger than him as more attractive.

Stiles stepped back when Derek turned his face and flared his nostrils as if he could take in the scent of arousal, or scent of another in his chambers. Thankfully, Stiles avoided being attacked as a stranger in the prince’s rooms, possibly due to his Omega pheromones that typically soothed Alphas.

Stiles smiled kindly down at Derek, “Come on, Sire, time to wake up and get started on the day. Breakfast is laid out on your table, and I’ll have your clothes ready to go after you sit down to eat,” he smiled softly, moving to fiddle with the curtains on the rest of the bed to allow Derek some time to wake up.

Derek, decidedly, did not want to wake up. He had tossed and turned all night, but he had finally been at ease only moments before he had been awaked because of some warm and comforting scent that smelled a bit like… home.

As soon as Stiles’ voice hit his ears, Derek realized that it was the scent of Omega that had lulled him to peace. He sighed heavily and moved to sit up in bed, not wanting to wallow in the scent and have an unfortunate part of his anatomy stand to attention.

“Are you always this happy in the mornings?” Derek asked, voice thick and rough with sleep as he blearily peered over at his new manservant.

Stiles shrugged, “My father would ask the same question all the time. I just like to see the world awaken,” he smiled, looking down at the prince. “I’ll be getting together your outfit, you take your time getting up, Sire,” he smiled gently.

Derek nodded, almost intrigued. No servant had been so… pleased to join him this early, yet there Stiles was, grinning and bouncing with joy at this hour. He watched Stiles leave the room and slowly got himself together to follow. He pulled on his sleep shirt and stretched as he woke up, walking on bare feet into the large chamber and sitting at the desk.

Stiles was speaking with the older servant, going over items in his wardrobe. Which were for formal events, council meetings, casual wear, and clothes to train in. Stiles gave a small nod and looked at the prince, making sure that he was eating and enjoying the food. He asked questions and joked a bit with the older servant, and Derek even heard him chuckle. In all the years that the older man had served Derek, he hadn’t laughed in his presence. It seemed like his time with Stiles would be interesting.

After hearing that Derek typically liked to train in the mornings, Stiles set out the necessary light-weight training clothing that he had seen the knights wear in the training yard when he walked past to collect herbs. He laid out a light, cream colored tunic, and a loose pair of breeches to allow for further movement.

Stiles gave a small nod when it was done and the clothes were laid out, stepping back against the wall to allow Derek to eat in peace. Only, Stiles wasn’t the ‘sit still and be quiet’ sort. Very quickly, after a few short moments, he moved to begin tidying the messy desk. All papers that were orders or letters from others went into piles across the top of the desk, maps in the center along with tools for maps, and outgoing letters were stacked by order of oldest on top and most recent on the bottom.

It was silly how soothing it was to Stiles to clean. He hadn’t done it much, having had his own servants in Lis, and his room had been in a constant state of disarray thanks to his scattered mind; yet Stiles found he enjoyed stacking the papers, soothing the cuts that the parchment gave his slim fingers with a small lick, stacking letters and maps and utensils.

Time passed quickly for Stiles as he focused on cleaning up the desk. He was almost startled when Derek cleared his throat and stood, moving to stand behind the changing screen.

The prince moved awkwardly and gave a gentle nod, “I won’t require you to personally dress me. Only when I need to be in armor will I need that help,” he explained, and Stiles nodded eagerly. Less awkward touching was better.

The remainder of the day went smoothly. Stiles followed Derek to the training field and carried training swords to the field for Derek to use. He sat by the side and fetched cool water from the close-by stream for the prince when he needed it, and stayed out of the way.

It was simple, and Stiles made sure that it stayed good. He didn’t want the royal family to be mad with him, especially since he was a fox.

Stiles ignored the remarks from other knights and their pages on the training field.

Sly fox

Trickster

Manipulator

By far the worst accusation that Stiles heard that day came from the mouth of Sir Ennis, an older knight with strong negative views towards foxes. It took everything that Stiles had within him to keep from leaping to his feet and clawing at the wolf’s throat when the words “what if that little fox helped the Nogitsune massacre the werefoxes? He’s the only one that got out alive,” came out of his mouth.

Despite restraining himself from lashing out at the words, he was closed off for the rest of the day. Stiles hoped that Prince Derek wouldn’t comment on it.

He did.

It was during the evening meal when Derek and Stiles had been left alone in Derek’s private dining chamber, Stiles sitting to the side and working on a personal embroidery project when Derek spoke up.

“Stiles. May I ask you a question?”

Stiles looked up, his thin fingers holding the small needle with surprising agility. “Yes, Sire?”

Derek nodded gently and let out a small sound, looking at his plate when he spoke. “Are you unhappy?”

Stiles looked up, wide honey eyes staring up at the prince at the question. “No, Sire, why would you ask? Do I appear to be unhappy?”

“You were… jovial this morning, and after we returned from the training fields you were quiet and standoffish.”

Stiles clenched his jaw and shook his head, “I’m peachy, Sire. Just a comment made in passing dampened my mood, but I’ll be right as rain tomorrow morning,” he said, plastering a wide grin to his face.

Derek looked doubtful, but gave a gentle nod at the excuse.

The rest of the night was… awkward. Derek could hear the vague untruth in Stiles’ heartbeat, but he didn’t know which part was a lie. The prince left their discussion at that, and stayed quiet for the rest of the evening.

Stiles was fine the next morning, as promised, and their relationship developed. They became tentative friends after a few awkward weeks, Derek speaking freely behind closed doors and Stiles doing the same.

Stiles had not told Derek that he was the heir to the throne of Lis.

-------------

Things went well for years. Absolute years. There were disagreements, as with any friendship, but Stiles and Derek always resolved their tension. Stiles grew close with Scott and Isaac from the Knights, Erica and Boyd from Waxing Crescent inn, and had surprisingly grown close to Master Deaton and looked at the man as a father-type figure.

Stiles lived his life split between learning and training to be a physician, and serving Derek as his dedicated manservant. As he lived and breathed in Triskele over the course of six years, no one saw him in anything less than a full outfit. Not on trips or patrols to bathe, not to celebrate after Derek was crowned King of Triskele as many knights partied in the river, and certainly not bathing himself. They would see the sword burned into his skin and know who he was, and he couldn’t allow that. No one could know who he used to be.

His carefully crafted reality had come crashing down on the trip that Derek made Stiles attend with a hunting party along the border of Lis and Triskele. Stiles fought at every given chance, but relented and packed bags for both of them.

He was scared for the first time in six years.

The trip started beautifully. Stiles and Isaac attended, as well as Derek’s younger cousin Malia, and a Lady Banshee Lydia from another realm. Stiles remembered her from when they were children, but Lydia did not remember him. They chattered and relaxed together as they rode the backs of their horses through the forest, laughing and bright.

The third day of the hunt is when it all crashed and burned. They were right on the border with Lis, and Stiles begged to set up camp away from the border. Scott gave him soft puppy eyes to express how sorry he was when Derek refused.

They had been settled in on themselves, everyone sat on logs around the roaring fire, enjoying a bit of rabbit stew, when a party from Lis comprised entirely of Nogitsune or Dark Kitsune approached. Stiles attempted to hide under his hood. The foxes stayed on their side of the border, but grinned brightly when they spotted Derek.

“Oh how lucky are we! The King of Triskele, seated right near our border. We have an inquiry for you, little King. We know that the last survivor of our… reclaiming of the throne crossed your lands. We were hoping that you had seen him?”

Derek’s brows furrowed, but he gave no indication that Stiles was the one that they were speaking of. Of course, he had no idea that it was Stiles. “Why would this survivor be important to you? Six years have passed since you usurped the throne.”

“Because, dear King, this survivor was young Prince Mieczyslaw. Many would claim that he has a hold on the throne.”

Stiles visibly flinched at the use of his name, and Scott looked over at him curiously. This, of course, got the attention of the Nogitsune guards in the party, and one gave a ferocious smirk.

“Oh, I would recognize that scent anywhere. But they don’t know, do they? Oh, how rich. You didn’t tell them? You ran to a foreign kingdom and pretended to be a peasant? That goes to show how untrustworthy your species are,” the guard scoffed, and Stiles snapped.

Six years of rage flooded into Stiles’ form, and he took up a stance that clearly wasn’t Stiles. His shoulders were squared, back straight, head looking ahead. He shed his cloak and stared down the guards, jaw clenched.

Derek’s face was ashen.

“I am the untrustworthy one, traitor? I watched you slaughter my mother and father and bathe in their blood as you celebrated slaying the King and Queen of Lis. I listened to the screams that your kind relished in as my people died around me. I stayed alive in the hope that I could save them, but you took that choice from me. I stayed here because I needed to move on and cope with my loss, but you have the audacity to say that my family was comprised of untrustworthy liars?”

The Nogitsune smirked, “Oh, yes, little prince. I am far more interested in how your dear King feels about your… betrayal. Does he need proof, or is my recognition of you enough? Shall you show him the brand, little prince?”

Stiles looked to Derek with sad eyes, far older and more broken than he had ever been.

Derek nodded.

Stiles closed his eyes and nodded gently, letting out a soft sigh before he slowly pulled his tunic from his body and turned to show the small party from Lis his back, and the large brand that marked him as royalty of Lis.

There were shocked gasps around the campfire, and the Nogitsune laughed. “Are you willing to hand over the prince now? We need to… deal with this containment issue before it comes to light.”

Derek was silent

Stiles began to cry silently, a warm tear streaking down his cheek. Before he knew it, he felt a warm hand at his back, and someone pressed his tunic into his hand. Derek was standing next to him, firm and unyielding.

“Stiles has become part of my family, part of my pack. I do not care who he was before he entered my life, but he has managed to become an integral part. You will not be taking my manservant from me today.”

The party from Lis felt the power in the words and hissed before riding away on their horses, kicking up dirt as they ran. Stiles and Derek stood frozen for a moment, and Derek sent a glare behind them before the sounds of the others shuffling and holing up in their tents were heard.

Stiles and Derek were alone.

Derek turned Stiles to stare at the smaller man, eyebrows furrowed and harsh. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you not trust me?”

Stiles let out a weak and pained whimper before shaking his head, “it wasn’t that, Sire, please, I… I was scared for my life. These people had killed my family and when I thought about telling you it had been so long that you would have sent me away.”

“Keeping this secret from me is treason, Stiles,” Derek said grimly. A crime punishable by death.

Stiles gave a firm nod and let out a small sound, taking a breath before dropping to his knees. He removed the neckerchief from around his throat, tipping his head back to bare it. For the first time in six years, he willingly submitted to his King. “Kill me now while we are in the forest. I do not want to dishonor my family by dying on a stage.”

Derek stood, almost frozen above Stiles. The fox sat, fully prepared to die that day, eyes closed and head tipped back. It made Derek sick. This man, this fox, this… this beautiful soul that Derek had come to love over six years was begging to die by his hand. It was all too much for Derek, and the King fell to the ground on his knees in front of Stiles.

Pressing their foreheads together, he moved to shake his head and let out a soft sigh. “I could never kill you, Stiles. Not if it was my life or yours, I would save you and take my fate.”

Stiles opened his eyes, warm tears spilling down his cheeks, and shook his head. “You can’t ever say that,” Stiles said, gasping between his soft cries. “You are important. You’re a King, Derek. I’m a lost prince with no hope of reclaiming my home. Don’t ever save me.”

Derek shook his head and let out a soft sound, “Stiles, you once told me something when I asked you for council on a matter I had trouble understanding. You said to me… you told me that we will all do stupid things for those we love.”

Stiles gasped and moved to pull back, trying to get a look at Derek. Before he could pull back, Derek pulled the smaller man forward to press a firm kiss to his lips.

Stiles pulled back for breath after a moment, and Derek let him. “Do not play games with my heart, Derek Hale.”

Derek shook his head, “I would never dream of such a thing, Prince Mieczyslaw.”

Stiles gave a soft groan, “Oh, please never call me that. I left the name behind for a reason. And I’m not going to bring it back because it sounds good coming from your lips.

The sound of Derek’s laughter echoed in the clearing, and the forest seemed to sigh with relief as it fell to night. Derek and Stiles shared a cot from that night forward, and never slept separate again.

Well, the only occasion that separate beds were necessary was when Stiles was pregnant and refused to allow Derek in his bed for making him “look like a stuffed turkey ready for a holiday feast.”

Semantics.