Stiles rushed into the forest - chest already burning as he continued to push himself, trying to go faster . He hadn’t known what triggered the wards, though that wasn’t entirely uncommon. It would have been impossible for Stiles to ward the forest the way he had wanted to - not even he held that much power. So he had kept them general, though he had never let them be weak. They were strong, glittered bright around the woods as he looked upon them.
If he could have, he would have set the wards to alert him to exactly what entered their territory, but the woods were just too vast. So instead they alerted him to intentions. It wasn’t perfect but it did help. If someone entered their territory with the intent to harm Stiles would know immediately, would be able to stop them before they made it through the woods and to the town. But there were ways to get around that - so most of the time Stiles could one tell when someone entered, not getting much more detail than that.
For those times, they sent out small scouting parties. Their pack was strong and smart, and going out in twos was hardly dangerous. They all knew how to fight, trained to be strong and efficient if need be. Most of the time, the triggering of the wards was done in innocence, more often than not wandering families of humans looking for a good place to camp, hikers pushing themselves, or friendly supernaturals passing through and not having had a way to contact the pack before hand.
Sometimes, it were hunters. In that case, Chris and John would be called in to handle them, to send them on their way using the Code and the Law to their advantage. If that didn’t work, well the pack had other ways to handle trigger happy hunters. Sometimes, sometimes it were beasts, crazed to the point where their actions just no longer held intent, their mind too far gone to work in such ways. Those times backup was called and they were dealt with how need be.
Again, their pack was strong.
Stiles had established himself as Guardian of the Beacon Hills preserve only a year prior, taking charge of the forest that surrounded them and twining his power with its own, becoming one with the trees and the lakes and the life that lived within. He claimed it as his and the forest claimed him right back, letting his magic merge seamlessly with the power it held.
Now he stood strong as the protector of the land, of Hale land, Peter having ‘found’ Alpha power elsewhere and returning to claim the land as his own. And he had a claim to it, surely a stronger one than Scott ever did. Hale blood had bleed onto the land for century and Hale blood had protected those woods for even longer. Stiles had easily sided with the elder wolf, comfortable in the man's power now that he was no longer insane.
And Alpha power had looked good on Peter - the man taking control of the territory with a firm hand, taking their mess of a pack and turning it into something strong. Scott had lost his Alpha spark, the magic of the woods reclaiming it now that a more deserving Alpha held the power. That hadn’t gone over so well with Scott and he - well Stiles didn’t know where he was anymore.
It didn’t matter so much, since Derek and Cora had returned when word got out, submitting themselves to their uncle and rejoicing in their family once again being charge of the preserve, settling firmly into their families land. Likewise, Malia had quickly followed, barring her throat to Peter, to family and to blood. The forest had rejoiced in their bonding, something even Stiles had been able to feel in his humanity.
Kira followed, her and Malia had grown strong together, their love something no one dared question anymore. It didn’t seem to matter to either of them that their soulmarks hadn’t coloured in when they first touched, that they weren’t destined for one another. They loved each wholly, beautifully and sometimes it made Stiles ache - reminded him of the love his parents had held for each other, of a love he didn’t think he any longer deserved.
The Nogitsune had burned too much out of him, his new body void of the beginnings of the mark he once wore proudly.
Isaac returned from wherever he had gone with Chris and Stiles smiled indulgently when they came back together, both their soulmarks bright against their skin. Love was a good look on the old Hunter, softened his face, his beard never more than thick stubble that often pinkened Isaac’s throat. Isaac, for his part, seemed free - the darkness that always lingered behind his eyes gone, no longer jumping at loud noises or flinching from the touch of others.
Peter had brought back with him texts, luring Lydia in with the promise of power and knowledge, bringing with her Jordan. The two of them settled into the pack easily, both already being close with the majority of its members. Melissa came next and though Scott had left town the woman had wanted to help, wanted to do more and if that meant patching them up after run ins with whatever Big Bad they faced, she would do so.
Stiles had brought his dad and had openly wept when the man shook Peter’s hand, new, brilliant marks burning into their skin. It wasn’t unheard of to have more than one soulmate, the universe finding two people and fating them together later in life, but it was incredibly rare. Stiles though - Stiles was just happy two men he cared for got another chance at happiness, after being robbed of it far too early.
So Stiles’ pack had been strong, a stable presence within Beacon Hills, doing what it had to in order to keep the town safe. It had been then that Stiles’ spark ignited under his skin, when he learned how to bend the magic that existed around him and use it to his own advantage, when he had learned to see beyond. It was another piece of his mother, much like his dark hair and freckles, his pale skin and the long, lean lines of his body. He was all her, and the same power she had once wielded flowed under his skin, bright white and burning .
Peter had immediately offered the boy a place as his Emissary, and Stiles gladly accepted. It wasn't long after that he bonded with the power the woods held, with a Hale at his side as his Alpha. Things had been calm for so long, the town of Beacon Hills soon being known to be under the protection of a strong pack.
That didn’t mean they were unprepared. When the wards had been triggered earlier that night, Stiles had sent out a group text, Lydia and Jordan offering to scout. An hour later pain had ripped down their bonds, each of them feeling the phantom pain of what Jordan was feeling. Stiles couldn’t imagine what it must be like for the man, if even a ghost of the pain stole Stiles’ breath.
He had left his father at home but alert, Chris and Melissa already on their over. It wasn’t as though the two men weren’t capable - they were, both badassses in their own right - and the only reason they were kept back was because they couldn’t heal like any of the others. In fact, Lydia would normally stay with them, the four acting as a last line of defence should it ever come to that.
So Stiles ran, the forest bending around him as the moon shone bright, more than lighting his path. He needn’t worry about underbrush, though, as the woods cleared their way for him and allowed him safe passage, its magic singing beautifully with his own, bright in his chest. He glowed brilliantly, a reflection of the moon's light emitted from under his skin and his eyes blazed with his power.
He was panting by the time he reached the clearing and he came stumbling to a half, would have fallen over if Derek hadn’t swung out an arm to keep him upright. He looked over at Derek, taking a minute to make sure the other man wasn't seriously hurt. He had a gash on his forehead and Stiles prodded at with his magic, making sure it wasn’t too serious.
He scanned the rest of the clearing, his magic pulled tight inside him as he looked around. He couldn’t see Jordan but his bond was still a throbbing, though duller than it had first been. Lydia wasn’t there either and Stiles could only hope she had retreated, hopefully the two of them making it out of the woods safely.
“Guys, what-” He began to ask, looking around for anything that could be dangerous. There was nothing, at least nothing he could see.
Malia and Kira were standing close together only a few feet away from Derek, Peter just too their left with Isaac. The whole pack was there and standing strong, creating a loose line along the edge of the woods. But there - there wasn’t anything for them to be fighting and even Stiles’ magic was having a difficult time alerting a threat. He didn’t understand what could have triggered the wards, what could have hurt Jordan and then hurt Derek. No one was offering up any information either, and it just made the Spark more frustrated.
The forest was restless around him, the woods all but yelling their indignation as its magic swelled bright. He made eye contact with Peter, moving closer to his Alpha and standing strong side by side, their pack naturally falling into line behind them. He went to ask again, to try and figure out what could possibly be attacking them that everyone else looks so cautious when he heard an inhuman screech, the noise echoing throughout the clearing.
The wolves react instantly, crouching down and going on the defensive, eyes glowing and bodies shifted into their beta forms. Kira pulled out her sword, her belt snapping together as her eyes glowed bright orange. Stiles gathered his magic tightly around himself, not sure what they were facing but following the instincts of his pack.
A hunched figure broke through the edge of the clearing, its skin a ghastly white, tinged grey and not wearing anything. One of its arms was longer than the other and it’s shoulders had an awkward slope to them, swinging side to side as it walked. It opened it’s mouth - it's jaw literally falling open, strings of skin keeping it loosely held together - and screamed, the noise anything but human.
Another two come wobbling out of the woods and crowding together, another three follow those. These ones seem to have extra limbs, the two on the outer left each having five arms, and the one to the right having an extra leg. They’re - well they’re humanoid, probably experimentations of some kind. Stiles can tell they don’t have a soul though, his magic returning with a snap when he sent it looking.
“They’re stronger than they look,” Derek muttered under his breath, the wind carrying the words to Stiles’ human ears.
Stiles doesn’t doubt it, not when one of the many armed picked up another and tossed him through the air, barreling fast towards where the girls were standing. Malia roared though it was Kira who stopped it, blasting it with a healthy dose of electricity. The Kitsune had only recently learned how to manipulate the energy around her but she had mastered it with speed, already an incredibly force.
The figure fell hard, barely more than a pile of ash as the glow in Kira’s eyes subsided. The remaining creatures seemed to study them, collectively tilting their heads to the side as the watched. It made the hairs on Stiles’ neck stand high on attention, not liking one bit how much the soulless seemed to be seeing, understanding.
Another one took off, speeding toward Peter with its arms swinging. Stiles watched as Peter ducked fluidly, his Alpha speed making him a near blur. He punched through the creature, leaving a hole in the middle of it’s chest. The thing crumpled to the floor and Peter watched with a sneer, flicking his arm to get rid of the bloodied guts now covering it.
The creatures once again did their synchronized head tilt and then screamed in unison, the sound growing louder as more and more of them flooded into the clearing, joining in on the screeching. Stiles had no idea what it might sound like to the wolves, considering how loud it was for him, but he could only assume how painful it would be. He threw up a ward, pulling at the magic of the forest and surrounding their pack, drastically decreasing the volume of the creatures.
As one they silenced before rushing forward, large groups running at each pack member. Stiles took an involuntary step back, pulling at his magic and pushing at it hard, creating a barrier around himself. Two creatures flew off it, their bodies slamming into trees and other beasts. He pulled his magic closer, wrapping it around himself like armour - coating his skin and hardening it. He wheeled his arm back before punching forward, sending a creature flying backwards with the force of his magic.
He jumped, holding himself high in the air as more creatures pooled under him before he slammed down with his magic, flattening out a handful of creatures. From here he could see the fighting around him, Isaac, Derek and Malia fighting together, backs facing inwards as they striked out with claws and superhuman strength. Kira was on her own, cutting through them with her sword, lightning flexing in the air around her. Peter was alone too, though he had let more of his beta shift take over, skin turning a leather grey with his power, much like Deucalion’s once had.
Stiles let himself drop just as a gunshot went off, the bullet breezing past his ear and embedding itself in the skull of a creature behind him. He whirled around - having no idea why either Chris or his dad would be there, nor why they would use guns without the silencers Stiles warded for them. Another bullet whirled past, this time an arrow whizzing along side it.
The sight made Stiles hurry backwards, tripping over a carcass and falling onto his ass - the sight too familiar and too painful. He shook his head, trying to breathe in, pull air into his lungs. He could hear Peter calling him, but it was only the earth shaking roar of his Alpha that pulled him out of his panic. Another arrow embedded itself in a creature looming over Stiles and the boy scrambled back, pushing out hard with his spark and forcing a ring of monsters away as he stood on shaky feet.
Thunder cackled into the clearing - though it was different than Kira’s. Hers was familiar, soft in its heat and its power. This thunder was bright white and hot, the power of it burning at Stiles’ skin even though it came nowhere near him. He looked towards the edge of the trees as the forest alerted him to a new presence and he watched as black leather and red hair flipped into the mass of messed limbs, dropping creatures as she went.
Another buzz in his chest and to his right entered two men, the first wielding a shield, the other a metal arm. A too large man fell from the sky, dropping heavy on two of the beasts with a roar of laughter, the lightning from before sticking to his skin. They were all too familiar and if every aspect of his life wasn’t already entirely impossible, he would have to wonder why the hell the Avengers had just dropped into his forest.
Instead he pulled at his spark, twisting through the mass of bodies. They seemed to be growing in number, a never ending source coming from somewhere . Stiles made his way to the Thunder God, pulled in by the aura of his magic. Stiles tugged at it, laughing bright when it gladly twisted with his own. He pulled lighting out of the air, twisting it around his arms and letting it meld with the magic he had layering atop his own skin.
He continued to fight, kicking and punching and dodging, occasionally lifting himself above it all and stealing more energy from the God and using it with his own magic. The pack were safe - the forest kept a small bit of his subconscious aware of their status, only alerting him if something series were to happen. Peter roared again and the pack joined, lending their power to the spark.
Stiles pulled at it, raising himself above the fighting and looking down, gathering the power his pack mates were offering. More so he pulled from the forest, the energy of the woods around him beautifully linking with his own. Thor’s magic jumped into the fray, enthusiastically lending its strength and Stiles pulled it in, letting it simmer under his skin as he concentrated.
He focused on his pack bonds first, letting a little of the magic he had gathered cocoon its members. Then he moved onto the Avengers in the clearing, having to look for a long second at each member to ensure they would be unharmed. Then he gathered up more of the power, pulling shamelessly from the God as his magic eagerly accepted, letting Stiles take his fill.
And then, the Spark pushed. He slammed the combined magic down hard, pushing with all he had and watching with glee as the creatures crumbled under his force, flattening them down into nothing. He pushed harder than, willing the earth to open up, take what the boy was offering. When the bodies were nothing more than buried bones he floated back down, the pack patiently waiting to regain movement, the Avengers in the clearing immediately jumping back into action.
Stiles watched with amusement as Black Widow, Captain America and the Winter Soldier sputter about, spinning around with wide eyes as they search for the hordes of monsters they were previously fighting. Isaac actually snorts, immediately bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. Thor seems to recover first, blinking a few times before staring hard at the forest floor in a way that makes Stiles want to squirm, want to explain away his magic.
“You are an excellent mage! My brother would be quite impressed by your magics!” The man said, his voice booming around the clearing. He made his way towards Stiles, a wide smile still held in place.
Stiles took a half step back, his spark feeling uneasy under his skin. He wasn’t sure what it was about the man - after all his magic had felt so natural when Stiles had pulled from it, had melded beautifully with his own, as naturally as his own packs, as the forest he was bonded to. It had felt to let the man's power connect with his, felt like coming home.
It’s then that the blonde claps a hand - heavy and large and so, so warm - down onto Stiles shoulder. He jumps back, though his forearm is already glowing bright, the empty space he had shamefully carried for years filling in with a mix of gold and red, bright streaks of lightning white-blue cutting through the intricate lines.
He looks up in shock, looking wide eyed at the God who's still standing in front of him, holding his arm out in front of his body, staring in awe at his own forearm. The lines look deeper against the man's golden skin, the colours richer than against Stiles’ own paleness. When he looks up from the other man's mark its to a soft smile, the God staring at Stiles with wonder.
His spark is currently flaming under his skin, burning so brightly he knows his skin is glowing, a soft white light coming out from within. His eyes must be blazing with his power, though Thor’s are doing the same, pupils lost under the bright white light of the lightning swirling around his body. It flickers between them, jumping to Stiles but retreating just shy of touching his skin, as if Thor’s own magic is now unsure of its welcome.
This time when he steps forward Stiles doesn’t retreat, rather lets calloused fingers brush over his arm, running along his newly coloured in mark. Electricity pools from the point of contact, even as more of it flickers throughout the air, bright hot as it jumps over their skin - though it passes otherwise harmlessly through them. He can’t help but bring his own hand up, caressing the man's skin in front of him as he stares wide eyed.
The mark is larger on the other man's forearm, proportionate to his own body. The lines look more like a cityscape - high, beautiful buildings detailed in gold lines. Overlapping that looks like a forest, the great trees that Stiles knows so well in a deep, rich red. It’s, it’s Asgard and the Preserve, Stiles is sure of it, with lightning and flashes of Stiles own magic running through it - white-blue and bright.
“It is you,” Thor says, voice as soft as the smile he’s still wearing.
Stiles just nods, taking a small step forward and staring up at the man, suddenly unable to look away. He has heard about what it is like to touch your soul mate for the first time, for your mark to sing out with it’s mates - but everyone he has ever spoken to has known their mate first. Stiles, Stiles doesn’t know this man, doesn’t know anything about him other than he’s a God .
His mother did always tease that he was meant for great things. He doesn’t think this was what she meant.
“May I hug you?” He asks, voice strangely formal despite the roughness, the words coming out more of a deep growl than the formal request Stiles is sure the man means for it to be.
And Stiles presses close, fisting the straps of the mans armour and pulling him in, settling his cheek against the cool metal. The man dwarfs him, even with Stiles’ growth spurt his eyes only reach the man's chin - making it easy to tuck his head into the man's chest. When Thor brings his arms around him, Stiles feels overwhelming safe , home in a way he has never before. Thor is surrounding him, his scent - crisp and fresh, ozone and morning dew - flooding his senses as he continues to breath it in.
“I have waited millennia to meet you,” Thor’s voice is reverent, and he brings his hands up to frame Stiles’ face, warm palms covering his cheeks, fingers lightly ghosting over his skin, tracing his cheekbones and nose and cupids bow. A thumb pulls on his bottom lip and Stiles lets them part, tongue sweeping out to wet them and the tip of Thor’s thumb in the process.
Stiles watches the man stare as he does so, and the next second warm lips are against him, his bottom lip being pulled between the rough slide of the mans. Beard scratches at his face and Stiles gets lost in it, looping an arm around the taller mans next and lifting himself onto his toes, determined to give as good as he gets.
Everywhere they touch is sparking and Stiles can feel his own magic seek out Thor’s, his spark finding the mans and twirling together, dancing beautifully together and Stiles laughs bright when Thor twirls them, an imitation of their magic. It's hard to pull himself away so he doesn’t instead leans back in the man's hold, arms strong around him as they take his weight. He looks shyly at the man now, heat blotching his cheeks when he’s lost for words.
“Be my queen,” The man request, breathless, his smiles wrinkling the skin around his eyes.
It’s the most beautiful thing Stiles has ever seen, and he can do nothing but say yes.