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Two-Toned Whiskey-Colored Eyes

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That night at the dinner table Stiles had been forced to stay for supper. “I would like to propose an idea,” Derek said standing up beside Stiles. Talia nodded her head telling her son to continue. “I propose that Stiles and his mother move into the castle.”

Stiles spit out the drink of water he had just taken. “I’m sorry what now?” He asked regaining his composure.

Derek re-explained his proposal, “Stiles, you and your mother could come and live in the castle. I could teach you everything you would need to know about attending court.”

Stiles quickly looked at his father in disbelief, “Dad, did you know this?”

“Stiles, you need to calm down,” Noah said grabbing his son’s hand under the table. Noah could feel the buzz of magic starting to grow in his son, “and to answer your question, no son, I didn’t know.”

“I won’t stay here. I don’t want to be part of the court. I have no desire whatsoever to, your majesty,” Stiles said standing from the table, “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get home to my mother.”

Stiles didn’t even wait to be excused, before kissing the crown of his father's head and disappearing out the door.

“Prince Derek, is there any reason you would ask my son to stay here at the castle? You know the great lengths and hardships my wife and I, have put him and ourselves through to keep him out of court. And now you want to formally introduce him to it. What my son just did by leaving the royal table without being excused is wrong, but he will not allow himself to be trapped in this birdcage of a castle. You might not know what lies beyond these walls, but he does and he’s not willing to give up that freedom,” Noah sprouted off in a tissy, “Are there any main reason why you would want him here other than for him to be in court?”

“Lord Noah,” Derek began, “I think I’m in love with your son.”