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Derek has officially decided that he hates Scott, no matter how much Stiles coos over him. And maybe that’s why he hates Scott. He refuses to confirm or deny it.
The second the True Alpha had called his name, Stiles had panicked and threw one of his bags of spells on him. Derek had stood there, in between a state of being impressed and panicking as well, and let the spell bag hit Scott right in the face. The spell had been a knock-out one, Stiles explained a few moments afterwards, and he had crafted it shortly after meeting Derek.
Derek is sure as hell glad it’s never been used on him.
“He’s adorable!” Stiles had said about the True Alpha, cocking his head at Scott. Scott was lying sprawled on the ground, spit pooling before him from his mouth and jaw crookedly open. Stiles was smitten from the start. “He looks like a puppy!” He had declared.
When Scott came to a few minutes later—“Dammit Derek, my spells aren’t as strong as they usually are. I’m totally blaming you for it”—they quickly clamped a hand over his mouth and explained the situation as best they could. Scott had watched them with confused, mistrustful eyes, but they had softened as the story went on.
“I mean…wow guys,” Scott says the moment they let him speak. “You…and you…” He looks between the werewolf and the dragon. “Wow.” He looks so overwhelmed Derek fears that he might do something insane, like howl and alert everyone of their position, but instead he just sits up further and squints at the two. “So this is your meeting place and you guys are like, together?”
Derek and Stiles share one wide-eyed look before whipping their heads back to Scott. “No!” “Definitely not.”
“Okay, okay!” Scott raises his hands in surrender. “Jee-sus. Didn’t mean anything by it.” Then he studies Stiles. “So…you’re really a Night Fury?” He doesn’t even wait for a response before plowing forward. “That’s really cool, dude. And you don’t have any overwhelming feeling to like, kill me or anything?”
Stiles doesn’t look impressed. “Do you have an overwhelming urge to kill me?” He deadpans.
Scott smiles his crooked grin. “I really like you, man. And you don’t ever have to worry about me hurting you, it’s kind of against my nature.”
“Against your nature? All weres kill,” Stiles looks confusedly at Derek.
Derek shrugs. “He’s a True Alpha. That means he became an Alpha by upholding great values and not killing anyone. Ever.”
“Dude, you’re like the Buddha of werewolves. Nice.” Stiles turns to Derek. “Is that why I’ve never heard of him before? You always tell me stories about your training.”
“Yeah. Scott’s not allowed to train with us just in case he accidentally kills something. When your pack’s in danger, you’ll do crazy things…even if it’s against your deepest, most moral code.”
“Sounds intense.” Stiles comments. Then he turns to Scott. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” He looks hopeful. “You know, about me and sourwolf here?”
“You’ve never called me that before. I resent you and your stupid nicknames,” Derek growls, but Stiles just laughs.
“Course not.” Scott shrugs. “It’s not like you’re planning on killing the entire pack, right?”
“Definitely not,” Stiles agrees. “And I like you. So come back with Derek to visit me? I get lonely.” Derek tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat and the sick feeling that curls around in his stomach when Stiles looks at Scott.
“Why can’t you get out?” Scott frowns, like it’s him that’s stuck down here instead of Stiles.
Stiles holds up his leg. “I’m kind of impaired, dude.”
“Ooooohhh.” Scott sighs out, looking regretful for asking. Then he turns to Derek. “Well why the hell haven’t you helped him out yet?”
Derek sighs. Leave it to Scott to ask the obvious questions. “Well—”
“First of all, if he helps me out then there’s a great chance I could get stuck in the woods. Then a werewolf will find me, smell the dragon on me, and boom. Dead Stiles. If he helps me out and gets me to my herd, there’s an even greater chance that they’ll recognize him as a were. Then it’s boom: dead Derek. And probably dead Stiles as well. It’s not a good deal.” Stiles finishes with a flourish. Then he looks at Derek with a shit-eating grin. “Oh sorry, were you telling him?”
Derek glares, but it’s really hard to be even pretend mad at Stiles when he’s being this playful. “So what’s the plan, then? Have Derek bring you food and company forever? That’ll only work so long. It’s not very hard to follow you, you know.” Scott looks pointedly at Derek, and the beta hangs his head.
“Calm down, dude. We’re really just waiting for my magic to heal. Then I’ll be able to mask myself and hopefully transform back into a dragon.” Stiles looks between the two werewolves, gauging reactions.
“Sounds cool. But, uh, Derek? I came down here because your mom demanded that you get home. Apparently there’s a warning out about another dragon attack that might be going on soon, and we need all hands on deck.” Scott glances off-handedly at Stiles, but the dragon isn’t even paying attention to him.
“Fine, go. But come back soon, you hear?”
“See you, Stiles.” Derek says, and Scott waves a goodbye before the two werewolves make their way out of the overgrown hole.
“Dude, dragons can shapeshift? That’s like, so awesome.” Scott says.
“Yeah. Scared me the first time Stiles told me about it.” Scott is silent, eyebrows crinkled tightly as he contemplated something. Derek sighs, giving in. “What is it?”
Scott shakes his head hard. “If…if dragons can shapeshift, then why don’t the ones we capture just go into their human form and escape? It would be so easy,” he says, looking up at Derek. His face is completely puzzled.
“I…I don’t know.” Derek realizes, suddenly wondering if there’s a whole other problem on their hands. “We feed them every day. Do you think they’re too weak?”
“No way, dude. It’s gotta be something else.”
“But what?”
“I have no clue.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Something’s gotten into Peter between the mating ceremony and now, because he’s oddly refraining from mocking them and he seems almost…nice. It’s weird, and something is definitely wrong.
“Yes well, today we’ll be dealing with a Monstrous Nightmare. These beasts are usually quite rude, so just beware. Fire power isn’t amazing, but they’re very big and strong and fast, so be warned. Good luck.” It’s the most information he’s ever given them on a dragon before letting it loose on them, and everyone is kind of dazed for a second before they realize that the Monstrous Nightmare has been released. Immediately everyone scatters, because even though the fire power of the creature isn’t amazing, it’s still fire power.
Its fire spray is just that—a spray—and the heat manages to catch Derek on the arm and singe off a few of his hairs. He’s much better off than Isaac, though, who’s missing half of his left eyebrow. “Run, dammit!” Derek yells at him, because he’s literally just standing there in awe. Isaac jolts into motion and sprints off to the gardens. Derek takes this moment to bring out his secret weapon: a sugar cake.
The first time Derek had ever brought a sugar cake down to the ravine where Stiles is, the dragon had immediately pounced him in lust. Apparently, dragons can smell sugar if it’s anywhere near them, and from how Stiles acts, it’s addictive as hell. The second Stiles had taken a bite, he’d melted in content, even going as far as purring. Oh yeah, dragons purr. And it’s fucking awesome.
He’s hoping it will work with the Monstrous Nightmare.
The second the dragon calms down enough to inhale, it immediately zeroes in on Derek. And Derek knows it can definitely smell the sugar on him. He almost screams when it flies in, claws extended, but all it does is land right next to him. Its huge head noses into his chest roughly. It knocks him back on his butt, and he’s entirely stunned for a second as the dragon noses greedily at his hands and chest, nipping his jacket with its large teeth for a taste of sugar. Now Derek has to stifle a laugh because its teeth are tickling him.
The dragon is—dammit why do they do this?—purring with complete pleasure at the taste of the sweet treat, and Derek takes that moment to slowly lead it back towards the cage. He’s pretty sure it’ll do anything just for another taste of sugar, and when he discreetly tosses another cake into its cage, it wastes no time crawling in to get it. When he locks the cage behind him, he turns to see everyone staring at him, awed looks on their faces. “What?” He asks defensively.
Their disbelieving glares say it all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Dude, you’ve gotta be more subtle,” Scott says as he and Derek walk through town, on their way to the woods.
Derek sighs loudly. “Well I want to try out all this stuff I’m finding out while hanging with Stiles. How am I supposed to do that when I can’t even do experiments?”
Scott rolls his eyes. “You can’t just do it in front of everybody. You were never a very good fighter, Derek, face it. So you suddenly becoming the ultimate dragon chainer? It’s kind of a huge deal. If you aren’t careful, you’re the pup that’s going to be picked to lead the next attack.”
Derek groans, bumping Scott’s shoulder roughly with his own. “You’re not helping here. I need to do this.”
“I get it man, but remember that you also have to worry about Stiles. I know you care about him, dude, so make sure he stays safe. Okay?”
Derek grumbles to himself for a second. “Fine.”
“Good.” Scott’s smile is wide and content. “Now, before we hang with Stiles, I want to tell you about this idea I had…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Why does your water taste so weird? I’ve been wondering for a while.” Stiles says as they approach.
“Our water tastes weird?” Scott looks at Derek.
Derek shrugs back. “I dunno. Maybe dragons have different taste buds.”
“It smells weird too,” Stiles complains, sniffing it with obvious distaste.
“You’ve never mentioned it before!” Derek says, exasperated. If he didn’t have as much self control, he’d be throwing his hands up in exasperation right about now.
“Well by now I know that you guys aren’t going to kill me if I make requests. And I request to know why your water is weird.” Stiles bites into his bread. “And your food too, for that matter.”
“Well we don’t do anything to it.” Derek sighs.
“How do we make bread?” Scott frowns deeply, trying to be helpful.
“First we make the dough. Wheat, yeast, eel, water, salt, and honey.” Derek frowns, thinking over the ingredients. “Then we knead the dough and—”
“Wait…eel?” Stiles asks, his tongue bulging out of his mouth.
“Yeah, we put eel in everything we eat and dri—”
“You’ve been feeding me eel!?” Stiles screeches, hurling the canteen of water as far away from himself as he possibly can and spitting out the nutrient water.
“We add their blood to a lot of our food, it keeps up our immunity to diseases, long-term injuries, and other possible werewolf complications.” Derek answers, confused. Scott’s standing off to the side, looking a tad bit terrified.
“Well it’s no wonder I can’t do magic as well as usual or shift. YOU’VE BEEN FEEDING ME FUCKING POISON!” Stiles looks horrified, and Derek knows that only half of it is from over exaggerating.
“I’m sorry!” Derek apologizes quickly. “I didn’t know it suppresses the magic in your kind.”
“Suppresses the magic!? How about fucking kills us slowly!? Is this what you feed the dragons you keep captive?” Stiles looks between Derek and Scott. “Of course it is, of course it is. Well it’s no wonder they can’t shift. This shit is poisonous to dragons. If we drink it, even diluted, it can cause awful long-term effects. Some of the dragons who have had it for very long periods of time can become feral, and will never shift into their human form again. Dammit, Derek.” He says the last part as if it’s all Derek’s fault.
It’s not. Really, it isn’t.
“Well now we know why they haven’t shifted,” Scott shrugs, quirking his lips a little.
“Yeah, and why I can’t use my magic. Thanks, dumbass.” Stiles playfully glares at Derek.
Again, not his fault!
“Well…do you suggest letting them shift?”
“No!” Stiles says almost immediately. “Oh god sorry, that makes me sound like an awful person. I just really really don’t think that sounds like a good idea. I think we need to talk about how we’re going to go about ending this dragon/werewolf feud and bring peace to our nations.”
“Oh, is that the ultimate plan?” Scott asks, finally interested again. He draws closer.
Stiles doesn’t look impressed. “Do you have any other plans worthy of being The Ultimate Plan?” He says it with such fake mockery it must be capitalized.
“No no, it’s a good plan.” Scott hops down closer to the, and sits next to Derek on his log. “But how are you going to execute it?”
“Did you just miss the entire conversation before this? That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Derek says, pretty meanly, and Stiles just laughs at him.
“You’re such an asshole,” he says fondly. Derek rolls his eyes, but inside his heart is being stabbed with tiny pushpins.
“So…plan?” Scott asks, trying to break the intense eye contact war Stiles and Derek seem to be having, and it’s like a spell has been let loose.
“Oh uh, yeah. Well, I still say we bring it to your alpha.” Stiles says.
“And I still say that that’s a terrible idea. My mom might kill you on the spot, no matter if you’re with me or not.”
“But she won’t kill him if he’s with me,” Scott points out. “It’d be like a war cry if she killed me. And she’d have to go through me to get to Stiles. I’ll make sure of it.” Stiles and Scott fist bump, and Derek sighs. They’ve come to develop what Stiles calls “an epic bromance to break all species barriers,” and nothing can “break their bro-bond.” Derek begs to differ: a sword would do the job just fine.
“I think we should do it…publicly.” Derek says the word as if it pains him, but it’s a real idea with real pros to it.
“Where?” Scot says.
“Well, where does everyone meet together once a year to watch both werewolves and dragons?” Derek turns to Scott, a dumb look on his face.
Scott slaps Derek on the arm, but the stinging sensation lasts half a second before fading. “You don’t have to be such a jerk.” He’s smiling though, and the bite is taken from his statement. Lately Scott has actually been understanding Derek’s dry humor, and it’s actually kind of great to be able to hang out with another werewolf without offending them.
“Where?” Stiles is looking between the two of them so fast he might as well have whiplash.
“The arena.” Derek answers. “You know, the one where I practice with the others in my pack?”
“Oh, the one that you fight other dragons in?” Stiles asks.
“Yeah. Every year there’s a tournament where the training werewolves display their strength against dragons. The winner gets to face off with our most dangerous, and whoever wins gets granted full adult status in the pack, and the chance to lead a whole troop into war. The rest of them get adultship by fighting smaller battles in times of war and such.” Scott says. “The entire pack gathers to see it.”
“How many people are in your pack?” Stiles asks.
“About 200 werewolves, all betas.” Derek recites.
Stiles whistles. “Impressive.”
“But see, it’s definitely our best bet for getting everyone’s attention. Hopefully they won’t be trying to kill you, because we’ll be in a concentrated area.” Derek reasons.
“It…it might just work,” Scott looks awed.
Stiles beams. “Let’s make ourselves a plan then.” He turns the blinding smile to Derek, and his heart is now Stiles’s own personal pincushion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A mere fifty miles away, a man sits at his desk. Dark circles surround his eyes and his weary head falls on his hands again. Drawings and papers are scattered before him, and he picks up another and stares at it blankly. A knock sounds at his door. “Sheriff?” A voice says, and the man slowly looks up to see dragon-sister Lydia standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“No, no,” Sheriff sighs, pushing back in his chair. “I’m just looking over these documents again.”
“You know we’ll find him, right?” Lydia asks gently, walking over to put her hand on Sheriff’s shoulder.
“We have to put forth effort if we’re ever going to find my son,” Sheriff says, gesturing towards the plethora of papers.
“Knowing Stiles, he’ll just turn up and ask if he missed taco night,” she smiles fondly, but it’s full of sadness as well.
“Well, he’s been gone about a month. He’s definitely missed taco night.” The Sheriff laughs wetly.
“He’s gonna be pissed,” Lydia adds weakly. They stand in silence for a few moments before Lydia startles. “Oh! I almost forgot my reason for being here. The Leaders called upon both you and I as soon as possible.”
Sheriff sighs as he stands up from his chair, joints creaking like hinges that need oil. Together he and Lydia walk together out of his small two-bedroom house—that he now has all to himself—and into the town streets. The town is fairly busy: marketplaces and business owners bustling around to trade goods and sell masterpieces. Workers bearing firewood and coal grit as they haul their heavy loads. Sheriff and Lydia finally make it to the center of town, where a good-sized temple rests, blocking sunlight from most angles, depending on the position of the sun.
Together they venture in, ducking their heads on the hanging curtains. When they get inside they see the three Leaders sitting on their respective thrones. Kali on the left, Ennis on the right, and Deucalion perfectly centered between the two. The blind man holds up his hand in a way of acknowledgment and the two dragons bow their heads at the Leaders.
“Sheriff. Lydia. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Deucalion says cordially.
Sheriff has always hated how Deucalion acts as if he cares. It makes him all the more deadly. “Of course, Leader Deucalion.” He bows again.
“We must discuss the disappearance of your son. As you know, he’s been gone for over a month, and none of our scouts have been able to spot him in any werewolf prison. We are almost positive that Stiles is dead.” Sheriff makes a strangled noise, but chokes back anything else. “It is a tragedy, but we must prepare for the future of our colony and herd. I have been discussing it with Leader Kali and Leader Ennis, and we all agree that the best action to take is to attempt to breed the next black dragon as soon as we can. Our herds are much more strong with a black dragon in them, and if Stiles is dead than that will allow another to be born.
“Sheriff, we understand that the black dragon has been coming from your line of succession since the beginning of this herd. Therefore, we deem it necessary that you mate with the most eligible female as soon as can be arranged. Since your wife is dead, we screened through many other potential mates and found that your best match would be Lydia here.”
The air in the room stands still before Sheriff breaks through with gusto. “Wait one moment! Lydia is the same age as Stiles! Not only is that wrong, but insanely inappropriate! I may understand the need for a black dragon, but I don’t understand why it must be Lydia. There is a good chance she will not even bear a black dragon. Please, I beg you to reconsider my mating partner.”
Lydia stands stock-still next to him.
“The decision has been made,” Ennis says rudely.
“I cannot mate with Lydia. She would become a prisoner to our bond.” Sheriff protests.
“Sheriff, we have made our decision.” Deucalion purrs. “It’s time you respect it.”
“She should not be subject to your ruling!” Sheriff yells out in desperation.
“Rajmund, you will mate with her, and she will bear your child!” Deucalion roars, and immediately Sheriff becomes submissive at the sound of his real name.
“But Stiles isn’t dead!” Lydia insists, finally stepping forward.
“You as well, Zosia,” Kali smiles venomously as she watches Lydia crumple at the strength of her own name being thrown at her in a command. “You will do what we ask.”
“We’ll set the bonding ceremony in a week’s time, and you two will be married by the end. We expect big things.”
And with that, Sheriff and Lydia are forced to leave the room.
Lydia is chalk-white as they make their way back through town and she has to lick her lips multiple times before she can finally talk. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Sheriff…what are we going to do?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it, then chokes on his words before finally settling on his honest-to-God thoughts. “I…I don’t know, Lydia. We can’t outright disobey the Leaders’s orders. You know…” He swallows. “You know what happens to those who defy them.”
She shudders violently, the harshness of hearing her real name being spoken from their lips still a visible weight on her shoulders.
Sheriff watches as she shuffles along, her fate already chosen by the Leaders, and she sets his jaw. “Lydia, come with me.” He grabs her elbow a bit roughly and changes their direction. Instead of their cluster of houses, he leads them back past the community washroom building and to a whole other bunch of houses. These ones are darker and bigger, rough with dried mud and pointed sticks. Lydia shivers, but the hot summer sun indicates the beautiful day. She hesitates a little, but he leads her on, right up a pathway that leads directly to a front door. He raps on it neatly with quick, sharp knocks.
The door opens silently, and a woman’s head appears. Her hair is a shock of bright red and her eyes speak of danger. She purses her lips at them and cocks her head a bit, then opens her mouth. “What’s your business here, Sheriff?”
“I need to speak with you and Chris. It’s important.”
She purses her lips again and nods, opening the door wide enough to let the two of them in. Lydia hesitates again on the threshold, but the fear of letting Sheriff leave her behind is too great, and she follows mindlessly. The inside of the house is exactly the opposite of the inside. The single cream love seat is decorated with floral patterns that spin in lovely directions, and pictures litter the walls in a decorative fashion. The only thing truly unsettling—and boy, is it weird—are the mounted werewolf heads on the walls. They’re on plaques, and strategically placed around the house so that at least one petrified werewolf head is watching over every room. Sheriff wonders lightly if there’s one in the bathroom, and if there is, whether it’s male or female.
“Sheriff,” he hears, and turns to see Chris walking to him in his huge muddy boots.
“Chris,” he returns the favor, inclining his head.
“To what do I owe the favor?” A single silver eyebrow lifts on his forehead.
“As you may know, my son Stiles went missing on the last raid.”
“The black dragon,” Chris acknowledges.
“The very one. The Leaders have it in their heads that he’s dead, and that now is the time to start attempting to breed for another one. Unfortunately, that means that Lydia and I would need to be wed at the end of next week, and mated shortly after. If it’s not obvious, I’m very against this idea. Lydia is as old as you daughter, is she not?” Chris’s expression is neutral as he nods stoically. “Then I feel that you can sympathize with me when I say that I need to go get Stiles.”
Chris is careful as he walks nearer, but shows interest. “How can you be sure that Stiles is alive?”
“I’m not.” Sheriff says. “But I need to find out for sure. There have been no records of his death or imprisonment, and I really must try everything before we are forced to…” He spares a glance at Lydia, and she nods, almost queenly.
Chris looks pensive. “I’m so sure that’s the best idea, Sheriff. We can’t go risking lives on just a whim,” he reasons. “Besides, I’m not sure you can p—”
“Daddy!” A high, sweet voice calls from an upstairs landing, and a teenage girl with curly black hair and fair skin stomps purposefully down the stairs. “How could you? Have a heart. This man’s son may still be alive, and he is being forced to marry and have children with my eighteen-year-old best friend!” She looks angry. “I’ve never been more ashamed.” She holds authority in her voice, and her father winces. “You will put together the search party, and you will look for Stiles as best you can!” She states.
His mouth opens in protest, but she barrels on. “And you will do it for minimum pay!” She says. “You’re the best hunter we’ve got, so you’d better start acting like it.” She glares at her parents. “Now tell the nice man that you will find his son.”
Chris looks begrudgingly at Sheriff, and has the modestly to look ashamed. “We will send a party out tomorrow, led by me, and we will find your son.” He says.
“Good!” The girl spins on her heel and leads Lydia up to where she came from.
Sheriff is left staring after her in awe, along with her parents. “Your daughter?” He asks awkwardly.
“Glad you could meet Allison.”
…………
I know I said that I’d stop posting here, but one particular user finds it much easier to read on wattpad than AO3, and I am happy to comply. Again, my AO3 provides the most up-to-date version of this story, and my username is LessonsFromMoths.
-Emma
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