Peter wasn’t sure how he should feel about this peace treaty. He lived for war, to destroy the magicians, he hated them wholeheartedly, and now he was about to marry one of them for the peace. Peter wasn’t sure if it was the same thing for the magician, and he didn’t care.
Logically, Peter understood it would only benefit both werewolves and magicians, no more death and destruction, but the old wolf who lived to kill had a hard time learning new tricks. He was a man enough to recognize it. This whole idea stunk so bad, Peter could almost touch the scent in the air. He wasn't sure if they both would survive even a year together.
"You do know that you have the daughter, and I have the daughter as well, so why do you even think it's a good idea for me to marry the prince?" Peter asked Talia, who sat on the chair with the Queen aura around.
"You do know they both would be in grave danger with the mage," Talia answered unfazed. "That's arranged and mostly foil marriage."
"Oh, and I won't be in the grave danger?" Peter huffed.
"You can defend yourself."
"When was the last time you even spoke to Cora or Malia?" Peter raised his eyebrows.
"Don't be ridiculous," Talia said. "They have never met any mages, they won't see bad omens before it's too late."
"Let me remind you, sister, I've never met any mages outside of the battlefield as well. I may be aware of their ways in the fight, but I also have no idea of what they are capable of in peaceful times."
Peter argued only for the argue mostly. He understood where Talia was coming and agreed with her. Also, he got another reason. He knew only war, and he knew that it would be hard for him to fit in the calm life. Also, both Cora and Malia were way too young to tie yourself with the magician. They could find their place in this new world, and to strip them of this chance - that would be just cruel.
He didn't look in the mirror to ignore all the scars the best he could. Fire magic did it to him, Kate Argent more precisely, and he made sure she was dead.
"You know the smell of magic," Talia shrugged.
"And do we know what kind of magic the prince has?" Peter frowned. "Because I know the scent of some types of magic, but not all of them."
"Stop whining," Talia said and stood up. "The ceremony will begin in half an hour. Take your time," she left the room.
Peter hated it so much.
The deep breath in and out. That's what Stiles needed at the moment the most. Something to anchor him to reality, to keep the panic away. He didn't do a good job. It felt awkward, uneasiness on his heart didn't help as well. He was Stilinski, of course, he was supposed to keep his face.
He was left alone for a few minutes before his walk down the aisle. There were werewolves right behind the door, so he technically wasn't alone, and yet he was glad for this pretended loneliness. Stiles sat down on the chair and rubbed his face with his hands and put it on the neck. This sucked.
Life sucked overall, that's true. There was a war for as long as he could remember himself. Humans against supernaturals, it wasn't pretty for sure. Both sides lost more than enough in this disastrous massacre, and the fact that magic-people were on the human side only did matter worse. So Stiles had to move on to save what little was left of their kingdom.
He sat straight and looked up, raising chin a little. Stiles was the prince, he had magic, and he was ready to do anything for his people. He would lose it later, when the safety of his people, his family was guaranteed.
Stiles wouldn't show any weaknesses, he learned a lot to be capable of defending his people, and it wasn't only void-magic. Though this one was going to be handy, he could just hide all the emotions he felt. Stiles stood up and fixed his clothes. He didn't even see his future spouse, and for whatever reason, this didn't drive him on the wall. It didn't really mean anything anyway. Whoever it was, they probably hated him for just his existence, but Stiles couldn't say same about his future spouse. He could resend him all he wanted, it would change nothing.
The knock on the door startled Stiles a little, but he quickly schooled his facial expression and erased the smell of all his emotions. It was still there lingering at his clothes, but anything new was concealed. Probably he would have to live like that for the rest of his life. Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know. Though, they are going to know the second they smell nothing on him. Well, if they even do anyway.
Stiles felt like a prisoner in a way. He didn't have any cuffs, but he was led by four werewolves, it felt like a little bit overboard. It actually made Stiles feel good, they were afraid and they had all the reasons to be. Aside from him, there was only one magician, Chris Argent. It did literally nothing to calm Stiles mind. It felt like some form of humiliation, but he didn't allow himself to feel humiliated.
Some werewolves glanced at him, probably surprised they didn't scent anything. The void magic was rare, so it wasn't surprising. Stiles didn't even look at them, knowing well enough this forced stillness wouldn't hold long.
They made it to the big and surprisingly full great hall. All werewolves who led him here stayed next to the door. All heads turned to him, and he knew his heart sank, and everyone in this room knew this too. He raised his chin a little, because screw werewolves. Stiles also knew at least his scent confused them. He made his way down to the altar. Magicians and werewolves religions were completely different in a lot of ways, and marriage was one of them.
Stiles was about to have werewolf marriage, and also this weird type of signed marriage contract with his spouse, it was created specifically for this alliance, and could be used later. And again his mind wandered. He didn't look around, only in front of him. This tunnel kind of vision only allowed him to see that his spouse was a man, which was good, he would feel bad for any girl in this situation. He couldn't grasp any other details until he came closer.
It was an elder man with burns on his right side. Great, he was going to marry a soldier. He barely even looked at Stiles, and Stiles did the same. He was lowkey curious about this tradition, but also had way too many thought running in his head. He just hoped this werewolf wasn't an alpha.
This idea became even worse as soon as he sniffed the prince. The priest was going on and about the Moon and all others things that there were to be said. It was going to come to the mating bite, but now Peter felt the stronger urge to bail the marriage.
The void magic meant no good. It didn't exactly have the smell, more like it smelled like nothing, and this was unsettling. Peter made sure to not stare at his future spouse, he was young, barely older than Malia, and sickly pale. He didn't smell any emotions on him, and that was actually the only indicator of void magic being involved. Peter wasn't sure what would be worse either the prince ending up a fire-magician or void magician. With fire, he would've at least know what to wait for, but now he was lost.
Not knowing things made him nervous and twitchy at best, outright murderous at worst. What he knew was that void magic was difficult and to be able to use it at such a young age meant either Stiles was much older then he looked like or he was some kind of natural talent he should be wary of.
Lost in thoughts, Peter almost missed the lead to the bite. 'To anchor your alliance in the face of the moon werewolf of you two needs to give a mating bite'. That was when Peter actually looked at the prince whose name he didn't even bother to remember.
Even though he hid his scent, his face still showed all the barely hidden nervousness. That was going to be bad because his hands trembled when he tried to undo buttons on his right sleeve. That actually made Peter rethink all the conclusions he made because in front of him wasn't some kind of almighty magician. He was a young person in the wolf den, and Peter almost felt sympathy for him. Almost.
Peter didn't make a move to help him, because he saw this gesture wouldn't be appreciated both by the prince and by Talia. It took the prince awkwardly long, Peter heard some giggles in the room but held his expression indefinite. When he finally made it, Peter didn't want to lose even more time. He took prince's cold hand and raised it up.
He made his eyes shine bright blue and allowed his fangs to drop. He felt some tension leave the prince's body, like knowing Peter wasn't an alpha calmed him. Probably it did because the bite for magical-humans was fatal. He bit gentle wrist and hold for a bit. The prince flinched at that and winced, but his scent didn't change. The stoic kid, though it wasn't doing him any good. Peter let go of the hand, and here he was, officially married for the second time in his life.
It was a wonder why Moon even allowed that because wolves were supposed to love and marry only once. The prince flexed his hand, and looked up, the priest was finishing the ceremony. Fortunately, humans didn't need to give a bite, it was difficult for them anyway.
They also signed a paper, and some part of Peter wondered how the marriage ritual was even performed for magicians. His curiosity once was his strongest weapon, but later on, he had to subdue it and learn only how to kill them and save his people. Maybe, he would ask, or just research.
He had some time before the prince would kill him. Now it felt like it would be him in the end.
The prince had a hard time signing the paper and not spilling his blood there. They should've thought about it before the bite. Peter glanced at Talia, who arranged everything this way. She didn't feel like it was necessary to somehow react.
Thankfully, the ceremony was almost over. There was going to be some kind of speech from Talia and Argent, about the peace and other things Peter didn't really believe. For him, it felt more like the prince was feed to them, like a sacrificing lamb. Maybe he was.
Peter felt the birth of the weak bond, connecting him to the prince, and yet, it felt like he was connected to actual nothing. This marriage was going to be more difficult than his previous one, and it ended with his wife dying.
"Call me Stiles," Stiles said when they were left alone. His hand was neatly bandaged up, though he still felt pulsing pain from the bite. He looked at his first and, probably, the only spouse.
"Call me Peter than", he sat down at the loveseat. "I guess we should survive each other long enough for the peace to settle."
Stiles huffed. "Is it going to be difficult?" He was deliberately not looking at scars, though it wasn't easy.
"Depends," Peter shrugged and sat back. "It would be interesting, that I may say for sure."
"Right, interesting. A perfect word for such a twisted situation for sure," Stiles crossed his hands.
"I don't like it either," Peter growled lowly. Right, werewolves. "Just don't piss off anyone, and as soon as the peace is certain, we will part ways. I guess, if we won't marry according to your laws, you would still be free in your people law."
That... was not what Stiles would even think of. He frowned because... did Peter really just worried about Stiles' future? He had mixed feelings about it and rubbed his face. There were a lot of things to unpack. Peter, probably, had no idea of what void magic really meant aside from the battlefield. Well, that was a thing for another time.
"I can't promise anything. I was told I have an amazing talent of annoying everyone everywhere."
Peter huffed and shook his head. "Should I be surprised?"
"Mildly worried at best." Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Maybe it would at least be bearable because Peter huffed at this.