whose gift request included feral!Derek, magic!Stiles, and royalty!au (with commoner Stiles). Hope you enjoy what I came up with, and happy holidays!!
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The castle guards come for Stiles while he’s putting on a simple show, transforming weeds to roses for coppers in the plaza. They don’t offer a word of explanation, not even a token complaint about him Practicing without a permit (which he would totally have, thank you very much, if he could just collect enough coppers to apply for one).
He knows his rights, though, and is still protesting them vehemently while the stone-faced pair drag him through a back gate and into the castle, along a series of what must be servants’ hallways, only to come to a stop in a richly adorned room that seems to lead right into one of the royals’ bedchambers.
He cuts off when he catches sight of an older man, clad in crimson velvet, watching him from where he sits on a simple wooden throne.
“Peter Hale, I presume.” It would be harder to guess, but the Hale royals are few and far between in the Beacon Hills these days. Most of the family was murdered years ago, in a vicious betrayal of treaty that sparked the Six Year War. Cora Hale, the youngest survivor and Peter’s niece, has long been married off in an advantageous match to the south, while the rightful heir, Derek… well, Stiles has only seen the man once, years ago and in passing, but he hasn’t forgotten that face.
This is definitely King Derek being threatened by the Argents and he needs an alliance, quick. Even if it’s just for show, he needs them to think his kingdom isn’t alone and an easy target. And I’ve decided that this will not only be fake married, but also a dash of fake royalty! Stiles is Aladdin without the genie! Or maybe Scott is the genie in this scenario.
Scott works with Derek in the palace. I’m going to say he’s an advisor or something. He’s the guy who’s constantly out in the countryside and villages, talking with the people, finding out what they need to live, and reporting back to Derek. Derek wants to do this himself, does it as much as he can, but he’s king. He’s got a lot of other things going on with the Argents looking for war, and he doesn’t have the time.
So knowing pretty much everyone in the kingdom personally, Scott’s the one who comes up with it all.
“You need a marriage alliance,” he tells Derek, who already knows this.
“And who do you suggest I marry, Scott?” All of the neighboring kingdoms, and even their neighboring kingdoms have their own alliances established and marriages planned. There aren’t many spare royals around. He tells Scott all of this, even though he knows he already knows.
“Then we go north,” Scott shrugs. “There are kingdoms beyond the mountains, there must be someone willing to marry.”
Derek raises his eyebrows dubiously. The north has an…interesting reputation. There’s a reason no one makes alliances across the mountains. It’s cold and wild up there, and the people are the same. Ruthless, hard, unforgiving in battle. They would be a good alliance when it comes to defending the kingdom, but awful the rest of the time. They can’t open up their kingdom to barbarians, and even if they could, there wasn’t enough time to arrange it.
“A messenger wouldn’t even make it across the mountains before the Argents attack, let alone find an ally.”
“Alright, then we fake it.” Scott says it as if it were actually that simple.
“A fake marriage? To a spouse who is always conveniently away on business?”
“We find someone to play the part.”
“Of course,” Derek says with biting sarcasm. “Round up all of our fair skinned subjects here in the far south.” The very few northerners who have crossed the mountains have a very specific look that isn’t found in the south. They’re pale with dark features, nothing like the tanned skin that comes to seafarers of the warmer climate. They’d never be able to find someone to play the part convincingly. “They would see through it in a second and kill us on the spot.”
In a world where werewolves die if they’re unable to Claim their mate and to refuse them is classed as murder, Alpha Derek Hale makes his very public Claim for Crown Prince Stiles of Beacon. The Royal Family are left with no choice but to accept, no matter the Prince’s imminent marriage to Princess Lydia of Kanima, to whom he’s been betrothed since birth. After having already faced the future of one loveless marriage, Prince Stiles is determined to make things with Derek work.
A hand settles over one of Stiles’ clenched at his sides, the warm palm almost engulfing his fist. His own unfurls inside the gentle weight of it and he looks up to see Derek leaning over, brows creased with concern. Up close, his eyes are a mesmerising swirl of colour, like golden sunlight filtering through a forest canopy, and they’re already brimming with more adoration than Lydia has ever shown him.
It’s @ladydrace‘s birthday today and I managed to write something that was finished on the actual day!!! I know you haven’t had a great day, and I hope this heavy dose of fluff can help, it has dragons and royalty! =D (I very knowingly stole a name for a dragon from your Flight Rising fic, I hope you don’t mind =D ♥) I hope you’re having a good night, Minna, lots of hugs and love ♥♥♥ (3864
Stiles was never opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. He was to be king one day, his responsibilities were to the people of Beacon, so when the Argents started to discreetly sniff their northern borders and the suggestion came of an arranged marriage between Stiles and Derek, prince of Triskele, their neighbor to the east, he immediately accepted. While Beacon and Triskele had always been friendly with each other he knew an alliance like that, between the magic users of Beacon and the shifters of Triskele, would make a force not many went against.
He didn’t know Derek, hadn’t met him since they were young children, but he had met his sister and their parents a few times in recent years, and they were great people. Of course Stiles wanted love and happiness in a marriage, but he thought that if they both wanted that they could be happy. Maybe not in love, but happy, and they could learn to love each other in some capacity. He was positive, it could be good, he would work hard for it, and he hoped Derek would too.
The son of a local blacksmith and the heir to the throne falling in love under the stars deep in the forest, where no man wanders and no status matters. when the young man smiles the moon pales in comparison and when the black smith laughs the air stills, time passes and the two are torn apart by fate and responsibilities. years pass by and the blacksmith comes back with a crown and a land that belonged once to his ancestors, and the prince have waited knowing that one day they will be together.
I see you, here in the darkness Blinding light right where your heart is If you’re ready, heart is open I’ll be waiting Come find me
“Your highness.” Derek gives a small, regal smile – and isn’t it funny, how such a thing as generic as a smile can convey rank in that way, betraying superiority over others – and releases Stiles’ hand from where he’d caught it mid-punch. (An accident. Mostly.)
“Prince Derek,” Stiles says, aiming for respectful decorum even through the tangible annoyance in his tone. When sneaking around the palace, he prefers not to be followed, and does not have control over his actions might he hear footsteps behind him. Hence, the near assault on the crown prince of Beacon Hills.
“You might find yourself in safer company with a sword for defense, instead of fists.”
Stiles smiles – sneers – politely. This is a game they’d often played when they were kids. Years have passed but Stiles still remembers the objective: to feign pleasantries so the Kings, their fathers, didn’t sense the dislike they had for each other. Normally they’d only play when they had an audience; they were currently alone.
Calmly: “I might find myself in safer company, if visiting nobility stayed in the guest quarters they were given.”
The smile that passes Derek’s lips this time is decidedly less princely, instead there’s a mischievousness Stiles recognizes from memories of 14-year-old Derek.
He says, “Apologies. It’s just you’re dressed for a ride, yet your waist is absent a scabbard.”
Here it was, the reason for sneaking around his own home. If Scott caught word that Stiles tried to ride to the camp his father was being held at to haggle for his release, he’d find himself tied to a chair until sense returned.
“I often go without a blade,” Stiles says, “As I never had the patience to hone the skill.”
He prefers to exploit enemies from the pages of books, is more useful crafting war strategies than leading the front line. He had, of course, the best teachers at his disposal and couldn’t have gone all his life without wielding a sword under their instructions, but there was a level of dedication that was needed to become fluent in the art. Stiles had directed that dedication elsewhere.
Now, on the brink of war, his father a flaunted captive of the Argents, and no one to represent the royal family on the battlefield but him, he wishes he’d have returned to the training ring more often than what was mandatory.
They were positioned close to one another in the palace hall, the wall torches making a show of wild shadows across Derek’s face. There was now a groomed beard where before were adolescent blemishes, there was a strong structured jaw, and a broadness that made their near-same height feel exaggerated.
Even more so when Derek leaned close in a manner of not wanting to be overheard, “War is inevitable.”
Stiles felt wholly aggravated at this point. “And?”
“And you can’t stop it. My parents will join as a display of loyalty to yours, and the both of us will end up on the field.”
None of this was unknown to him. “What would you have me do?”
A crease has formed between Derek’s dark eyebrows. Stiles lost track of when their game had stopped.
Like it was obvious, “I would have you not fall into a trap. Yes, I know you were visited with news of your father, you’d have to be blind to not see how eager you were to leave with the messenger.”
“Fall into a trap,” Stiles echoes, tone completely absent of the politeness from before. “You see me as a child, too naive to know the difference between truth and deceit?”
“I see you as desperate,” Derek argues, “As any son would be in your place. The Argents trade in master swordsmen, it is not speculation to say you can not win this way, it is truth. They will have stationed the best of their men to guard your father, and if you were to ride in, sword less, and alone, they would strike you down. Your kingdom would he heirless, your people without a ruler, those you love robbed of you-”
“Stop.” Stiles fists his hair with both hands and turns from Derek, so the side of his face is visible only.
Long, aching moments pass where Stiles labores through the act of breathing. When it doesn’t take his whole strength to do so, he drops his hands, rings his fingers around his wrist, still turned from Derek.
His voice shakes, another sign of his weakness. “You think I don’t already know this?”
A noise of anger and disbelief parts from Derek’s lips. “Yet you would still go?”
“I would have this done,” Stiles closes his eyes. “Three months is a long time to wait for news of your father’s life.”
Another moment of silence passes. Then, Derek’s hand grips his elbow, stilling the restless movement of his arms.
“There are other ways.”
Stiles scoffs, an airy, short burst of laughter. “Have you already forgotten? I can’t wield a blade.”
He hasn’t let himself admit how much of a drawback this truly is. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he was admitting it to Derek now, they’d never been friends.
Stiles turns back around and finds Derek with a expression he isn’t familiar with. With a softness to it, it was wholly genuine.
A/N: This ended up differently than I expected when I started out, but I’m still pretty proud of it. It’s got sort of a Princess Diaries 2: The Royal Engagement vibe to it, which I didn’t realize until I was already halfway through writing it haha.
A big Happy Birthday to the amazing, the wonderful, @captainsbabysitter-blog who is hosting this challenge. You’re fantastic and we’re all lucky to have you on our blogs and in our lives 💜💜💜
Word Count: 3.1K
Characters: Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy, Winona Kirk, Nyota Uhura, mentions of: Spock, John Harrison (Khan), Marla McGivers
Summary: Jim Kirk is a prince, ready to ascend the throne, but before he does so he has to choose a spouse and get married, too bad he’s not interested in any of the people chosen for him. When Jim gets sick and a handsome doctor, Leonard, makes a house call, he thinks his luck may have changed.
Winona Kirk looks across the breakfast table at her son James. He refused to meet her eyes or even speak, other than exchange pleasantries with the staff. The blonde woman lets out a long sigh, putting down her cup of coffee. “Will you please talk to me, son?”
Blue eyes flash up with a hardness in them. “What would you like me to say, Mother? I think I’ve expressed my feelings enough on the matter.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, James. It is the law that you have to be married before you can take over the throne.”
“Can’t you change the law? You are the Queen, after all,” James huffs.
“It takes the votes of all of parliament to change, believe me, I tried, but those old men are too set in their ways. They won’t change unless they believe there is a logical reason for it.”
“What about my happiness? What about the fact that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life ruling beside somebody that I barely know? Or how about setting a bad example for our people by settling for less, doing something that I don’t believe in, and lying about my personal feelings? Are those logical reasons enough?” James’ voice getting quieter by the end of his small tirade, emotion thick in his throat at the thought of being stuck with a stranger for the rest of his life.
Winona’s eyes soften and she speaks gently, but loud enough for him to hear. “I know, Jimmy. I’m sorry about that. I know what it feels like to marry a person that you barely know, just to keep your rightful position.”
Jim looks up from where he’s picking at his eggs, confusion on his face as he recalls the few memories he has of his parents together. “I thought you loved Dad?”
“Yes, eventually. At first we didn’t know what we were doing. We got along well enough, and that turned into a friendship, and from there…” Winona trails off as she thinks back on her relationship with George, her eyes glossy.
A deep sigh escapes Jim’s mouth, “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve been acting like a spoiled child and that isn’t fair to you.”
“It’s alright, son. I haven’t talked about it much, how could you have known?”
But consider this. Arranged Marriage, Historical/ Modern Royalty/ Regency AU where:
– Derek’s the one to be shipped off to be the King Consort to Stiles’ kingdom.
– Derek being the omega in an A/B/O AU, being the one responsible to give Stiles children
– Derek being the one with a difficult pregnancy, Stiles growing to love Derek as he cares for him through the pregnancy
– Derek having problems getting suitors because of his unconventional appearance as an Omega or due to his general social ineptitude
– OR Derek being objectified solely for his beauty
– Derek’s credibility as Stiles’ groom being questioned due to his past with Kate and the potential dangers it brings with him
– Derek worrying he’s not fulfilling his duties as consort because of his innate surly-ness
– Derek finding it hard to fit in into Stiles’ kingdom cause everybody loves the Royal Family, and he’s shy, and it takes time to understand his eyebrow language
– The possible conflict between Derek’s natural talent for being a knight and his responsibility to bear the heir.
– and many more.
I dunno man, I just. I want to read more of this au with the roles reversed. I just think that’d be interesting. And I mean, c’mon, Bottom!Derek yo!
Stiles listened to the latest musicians that Derek had brought to court to play for him with a wide smile and a thankfully small amount of hand movements. They were, as all the artists that Derek presented to him with startling frequency and fervor were, wonderfully talented, and playing a piece that had been commissioned just for him.
Sometimes, Stiles thought that his husband’s gifts and ever increasing support of Stiles’ interests might mean that his own feelings of deep abiding love may be returned by his king, but in his more reasonable moments he knew his love was unreturned. Derek had always been a generous and attentive man, even as a child he would allow Stiles to choose their activities and humor him in his frequent schemes. When Stiles proposed that they sneak into the castle kitchens to steal some of their favorite cakes, Derek rolled his eyes fondly (“They’re my kitchens, Stiles! And yours as well!” “Yes, but we aren’t meant to be in there now, silly!”) and acquiesced with enthusiasm as they tiptoed around the halls and into the pantry.
The head cook had found them covered in icing and failing to contain their laughter.
Thinking of it now brings a warm glow to Stiles’ chest even as it sets off a cascade of similarly joyful memories of growing up as Derek’s best friend. They were so close that Stiles had never considered that he would marry anyone else, though when he was old enough to understand that he was in fact Derek’s intended, the betrothal sent a panic through him. How could he ever think that a union with a man he loved so deeply, but could only look upon him as a dear friend, would bring him anything but heartache?
In the end, Stiles had decided that life without romantic love but with Derek by his side was far better than life away from the man who reigned in his heart.
Sitting now, beside his husband, ensconced in ornately carved thrones with soft velvet cushions, Derek’s arm resting close enough to his own that he can feel the warmth radiating from him, seeing his friends in court smiling and enjoying the music created just for him, Stiles knows he’s exactly where he wants to be. Even Boyd and Isaac, their usually stoic guards appeared to be enjoying themselves, though each man was regarding their kings with indecipherable looks.
Stiles takes a deep breath and turns to his husband only to find Derek looking back at him, a smile curving his lips in a way that still makes Stiles’ heart flutter. He can feel his own grin widen in response as Derek’s eyebrows raise in question. “Are you pleased, my dear husband?”
Stiles’ heart stutters then gallops at the thoughts that assail him, all the ways he’d like to please his king, the oft imagined looks of pleasure he’d like to paint upon Derek’s beloved face. He must get lost in thinking about how Derek’s skin would feel beneath his hands, because Derek’s brow furrows in concern. “Stiles? Is something the matter?”
“No, my king,” Stiles hurries to reassure, “I was simply trying to decide how best to tell you how perfectly lovely this evening has been thus far.”
Derek’s smile is so bright it puts the castle’s chandeliers to shame, and Stiles feels an elated pride bubble in his chest.
“I am exceedingly happy to hear you say so,” Derek says genuinely, the radiant smile still in place and the corners of his beautiful eyes crinkling slightly. The way Derek looks at him then, his entire regard focused on Stiles and the force of his honest joy makes Stiles forget that they are a couple bound by duty and friendly affection. It makes him believe for a moment that they share a love that will inspire artists for decades.
It emboldens him, and he places his hand over Derek’s, suppressing a shiver when Derek moves ever so slightly so that his thumb can run lightly over the outside of his pinkie. “I am exceedingly happy that you are exceedingly happy,” Stiles teases.
After another long moment simply getting lost in watching one another, a particularly evocative piece of the song draws Stiles’ attention and he turns to see how those gathered to dance interpret it. He can feel Derek still watching him, and it turns his smile small and private as he ducks his head briefly. Derek’s hand is still warm and real under his own, and as the evening stretches into night, it remains there, tapping the occasional rhythm against Stiles’ hand, their fingers eventually entwining.
Neither dares acknowledge it, but neither do they pull away. When it is time to applaud, the lost contact is nearly unbearable. When their hands automatically settle back together, Stiles feels like he’s soaring.
shealwaysreads 