Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

When the dragon came, Stiles knew it was time. When the mighty fire breathing beast stopped his attack on the pack just as Stiles showed up, he knew it was time. "Dovahkiin, rul daar Grohiik siiv hin assk? (Dragonborn, when these wolves find your love?)." the dragon spoke in his natural tongue, his gleaming red eyes staring down at Stiles. The teen could feel the eyes of the pack on him, wondering what in God's name was going on. Stiles licked his lips and sighed. "The wolves are strong and you dare not insult them. They know nothing of our history or that of your Fron(kin). Now I will give you one chance to leave these lands or you will join your Fron." The dragon was as large as two houses combined with a greenish gray color to his scales. One of the large black claws should rip a normal human in half. Stiles was secretly no normal human.

The dragon tilted his head. If the dragon could, Stiles knew he would be smiling. A strong wind hit Stiles as the dragon's wings rose then the beast was gone. He run a hand through his hair before he knew it was time to face the music. "What the hell, Stiles?" Erica snapped as she was the first to get into his personal space. "It was nothing." "Bullshit." Derek replied as he was now leaning against a tree, staring at him. "I did my research on dragons. I studied their tongue. That is all." That was a clear cut lie and Stiles knew it as soon it left his lips. "It called you something...a Dovahkiin? You know what that means." Stiles grinds his teeth at the word.

He always hated that word. His uncle always would call him that instead of his own name. He didn't want to be recognized of his fate. Not after his mother died. She was the only one who showed him not to be ashamed of being who he was. "It doesn't mean anything. Now can we just be thankful the dragon left?" The teen threw his arms in the air like he was praising the sky before tucking them in his jeans pockets. That just got him more stares from the pack. "For the love of Talos!" He yelled, not realizing the thick Scandinavian-like accent came back. 'Shit' Stiles thought when the wolves were now wide eyed like deers in the highlights.

Stiles bolted out of there. The minute or so that the wolves were stunned, gave him a small head start. His jeep was not far anyways.

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Stiles knew he couldn't just hide out in his room and avoid the wolves like nothing was wrong. Nope. They would just keep asking questions and those were questions the young man didn't want to give answers to just yet. Stiles had two options: Stay and face the music or run away. The window to his room was laced with mountain ash and he had put one of the barrier rune stones Deaton made him earlier that year by his door. It had a been a hour since he bolted and no guests but that wouldn't last long. He laid on his bed, staring at his ceiling for what felt like ages before he sat up. He would leave. Speaking to the dragon was a mistake. Now those fierce creatures knew where he was and who he loved. That was his decision. He swung his legs over the side of his bed before his hands grabbed for something underneath it. He pulled out a large oak wood chest, silver vines painted all over it. Stiles let out a small sigh as he popped open the lid.

On instinct, he grabbed for a large leather satchel first. Branded in the leather was the head of a dragon. The young man pushed the leather to his face, inhaling the scent of his mother's perfume before pulling it away. He rested the bag on his bed then turned back to look down at the other items in the chest. One by one, he pulled out various weapons and items. He packed several small cloth bags of herbs, mountain ash, and casting stones. His hands begun to shake though as he pulled out a steel quiver with a black leather strap and a full set of arrows in it. His mother's favorite weapon of choice. Archery. He had learned archery and was told to be very good but he wouldn't never tell the sweet Allison that. Below the quiver was the matching steel bow. It was rather large and had vines cut into it just like the chest it was held in. He rested both on the bed carefully. A leather sword holster was next from the chest. Stiles stuffed it in the bag. He couldn't wear it out and people not think he was crazy or going to a costume party. At the bottom of the chest was the two last items. A long steel sword and a small steel dagger. They looked so plain with no special marks or anything but they were the most important. The people before him had used both to slain hundreds of dragons and enemies. Stiles carefully packed everything in the satchel, only keeping out the dagger which he strapped to his leg.

He didn't pack any clothes just his wallet, his phone, and car keys. He pulled out a small chip out of his phone just in case the wolves asked Danny to trace the phone. Everything didn't sink in until he made his way down the stairs and he found his father sitting at the kitchen table. Stiles watched as his father's eyes locked on the bag for a few moments before up at Stiles. They didn't speak. The man just got up and in a fury of movements, scooped up Stiles in a bear hug. There was no tears. The both of them knew what the bag meant. As they pulled away from each other, his father kissed his forehead just like his mother would. Stiles held in a breath before he turned on his heel. He walked out of the house, not looking back.
When Stiles got to the “Now Leaving Beacon Hills” sign, Stiles pulled out his phone and sent a mass text to the pack. “Just trust me.” was all it read. Then with that, the young man was gone from Beacon Hills.

Chapter Text

10 years later.

“When you are ready, you will wake up….” The voice of Alan Watts is playing through the car stereo. The gray mustang’s engine purrs as it rolls down the gloomy highway. Stiles run a hand through his hair. Once was a buzzcut was now shoulder length brown hair, a small braid filled with steel beads through it dangling down the side of his face.

He could feel himself grinding his teeth as he slowly creeps closer to Beacon Hills but had no strength to stop himself. He only had one thought. ‘I am here to end this.’

Stiles squeezed the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white as he passed the Welcome to Beacon Hills sign. Stiles still wished he had his mother's Jeep but when you are out running dragons, you need horsepower.

Stiles let out a sigh so he parked in front of his childhood home. His father was the only one who knew he was home. He stared down at his hand, the triskelion tattoo was glowing bright red. He cursed under his breath as he closed his eyes and centered himself. He did not need to alert the whole supernatural community just yet that he was here.

After several minutes, Stiles opened his eyes to see the tattoo was no longer glowing. He let out a sigh of relief then he swung open the car door. Before he had his hand around the front door knob to the house, the door swung open and he greeted by a bear hug from his father.

Stiles couldn't move only remember to breathe before his father released and silently ushered him into the house. It was not until Stiles was sitting into the recliner in the living room that his father spoke.

“How many?” John said, getting straight to the problem Stiles come back to handle. “I don't know. I took down most of his Fron(kin) but that doesn't mean I missed a few. At first when I left, he come after me but then he started to avoid me and now he is completely off the radar. I know though he will come back here. He has to if he wants to finish this.”

Alduin was his name. He was the eldest son of the God of Time Akatosh. Alduin was the God of Destruction and was determined to fulfil his destiny. The day Stiles left 10 years ago was the day Stiles encountered him.

The last ten years Stiles has been busy trying to prevent him from building an army and regained the power to open up Sovngarde aka the Afterlife. “Okay. Well you know they will figure out you are here. This big of a problem you can't exactly hide.” John replied, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke.

“ Yea I know but I would like to postpone that as far as…” Before Stiles could even finish that sentence, the front door swung open which out of instinct caused Stiles to stand up and see the intruder on their conversation was Derek Hale.

“Stiles?” Derek Hale spoke, his voice just above a whisper like he was scared to say that name