Work Text:
5 years earlier
“Do you really have to leave my love?” Stiles pleaded as he lay with his head tucked into his husband’s shoulder.
“I am afraid I must, dearest one.” Replied Derek, nuzzling his nose into Stiles’ thick brown locks, taking a deep breath in, “a king must lead his men into battle after all.”
“I’m sure they could do without you. You are far safer here, with me. Behind stone walls and armoured guards; much more sensible… yes, yes.” Stiles muttered, burrowing deeper into the man beneath him.
“If only love, if only.” Huffed the King wistfully.
Propping himself up on his elbows so that he could look his husband directly in the eye, Stiles implored, “well, if you can’t stay, you at least need to promise you’ll return to me. Preferably in one piece!”
“I can hardly bring myself to picture the consequences if I didn’t my love.” Derek chuckled, “You have my word.”
Stiles raised an eyebrow, looking up at Derek from where he had been running his hands through the King’s thick chest hair, “That will have to do I suppose.”
“Unfortunately so dear.”
“Well then, if I can’t persuade you to stay, let me at least remind you of your reason to return.” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows and began to descend his husbands body.
“And who am I to deny the fairest Omega in all the land?” Derek said fondly.
“Indeed Alpha, and don’t you forget it!”
---
Alpha King Derek of Beacon had a reputation amongst his people for being a kind and just King. Alpha King Derek of Beacon also had a reputation amongst his rivals for being formidable in combat. This can be said of both his rivals in war and his rivals in love.
Upon the eve of his 21st birthday a tournament had been thrown for Omega Prince Mieczyslaw (Stiles) Stilinski, second in line to the throne of Nemeton. The aim of this tournament? To find the Omega a suitable husband.
The instant he had heard of the event King Derek knew he must compete: not only was Prince Stiles infamous for being one of the wittiest and fairest princes in all the land, he had also been the love of Derek’s life since he had met the Prince at his own coronation five years previous.
Now, Stiles will tell anyone willing to listen that he, in fact, had always planned on choosing Derek as his betrothed regardless of the outcome of the games. This was due to the King having also been the love of Stiles’ life since they had met at the King’s coronation five years previous. Despite this, Derek had won every challenge, defeated every competitor and successfully landed several back flips in a display of physical power and athleticism in order to win the hand of his love.
The pair were wed the following spring in a quiet ceremony, witnessed by several hundred close friends and family (royal families man, what can you do?) and had lived happily ever after. That is, until the unrest began in The Silver Lands.
The Silver Lands ran along the northern-most border of Beacon and were ruled by the punishing Argent family. The Argent’s were known for being cruel and prejudice dictators, determined to have absolute power of the entire continent, starting with Beacon, just south of their borders; the events that followed forced King Derek to announce that the Beacon was at war with The Silver Lands.
Shortly afterwards, the King and his armies had stationed themselves along the border to The Silver Lands and fought tooth and nail to keep the Argents out of their country and their people safe. The war had been a long and arduous one, but finally, after five years on the front lines, the war was over, the Argent’s had been subdued and the King was coming home. Stiles could not contain himself.
---
3 months earlier
“The war is almost won Your Majesty.”
“Almost is not yet Isaac.” Derek sighed, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb with one hand and leaning into his cane with the other. “Could you bring this report to General Hale please, I need his eyes on it before we progress in the morning.”
“Yes sir!” Isaac bowed and note in hand left through the flap of the King’s tent. Derek, finally alone, lowered himself down into the chair stationed next to his desk. The pain in his leg had grown so intense that he could hardly bear to stand any longer. He refused to let his men see him in pain, he refused to show them any sign of weakness: though he feared they had noticed regardless.
As if the universe was listening the King heard voices outside his tent.
“I have a good feeling that we will be home and in our own beds in no time.” That was definitely Isaac, had he not left yet?
“Ha! That’s if the King is allowed back into his.” Whittemore. The slimy son-of-a-
“Whatever do you mean Lord Whittemore?” Isaac replied.
“Do you seriously think the admired and revered Omega Stilinksi will want a withered, crippled King in his bed? Have you seen him recently? War has not been kind to him.” Lord Jackson scoffed and Derek could hear the men move past his tent and towards the rest of the encampment.
Derek raised his head from where it had been bowed from pain and stress and glanced into the mirror opposite. Was Lord Jackson right? Would Stiles, his beloved, lovely, amazing Stiles, reject him now? Sure, his face bore the consequences of battle and his beard was a little unkempt, but surely his Stiles would-
Interrupted by a shooting pain spiking through his leg, Derek curled in on himself; of course Stiles would not want him now. He is half the man he was when he had left nearly five years ago, and not anywhere near the image of the strapping young King whom had won the hand of his love through trials of strength and speed all of those years ago. He was no longer the man his husband had married, the man he loved so dearly. The man he deserved.
Still hunched over in his chair, the King wept.
---
“Prince Stiles! Prince Stiles! Prince Stiiiiiileeeesss!” an excited cry came from outside of the Prince’s chambers.
“Hush, Scott. Harry is sleeping.” Stiles whisper shouted, head poking out from around the heavy wooden door.
“But sir, I have just received word from Isaac sir. His Majesty is a mere day away! He returns tomorrow!” Scott panted, struggling to get his breath back.
Stiles’ eyes widened and his face transformed with a splitting grin, “Tomorrow! Oh Scott I could kiss you!” And with that the Prince swept his loyal servant up in an almighty hug, spinning the two of them round and round until they felt sick with joy.
“Papa?” Came a timid voice from within. Dropping Scott, Stiles darted back into the room and rushed over to the tiny creature in the bed.
“Sssh baby its ok, Uncle Scott just came to deliver some good news. Daddy’s coming home!” Stiles whispered, stroking his son’s soft silky hair.
Wide eyed the boy replied, “Daddy’s home! Now? Can I see? Please Papa please, please, please!” Suddenly excited the boy had jumped him from where he had been taking a nap and had launched himself into his father’s lap.
“He’ll be home tomorrow baby and he’ll be so excited to meet you. He’s going to love you so much little one.” Stiles smiled softly staring at the little boy in his lap with pride. Inside, he was overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect of seeing his husband again after so long, but a little part of him felt the niggling of nerves. How would he react to Harry? Would he still want Stiles after everything he had been through on the front lines? Would he be changed?
Stiles shook his head decidedly, ‘No, everything would be fine and we will finally get to be a family’ he thought to himself with a nod of the head. Smiling, he buried his face into his son’s soft hair and cuddled him close.
---
4 years and 2 months earlier
“Ah! Scott… Scott! I think he’s coming, come quick, please!” Stiles grasped at his engorged stomach as it cramped with the first wave of labour.
Shortly after the start of the war with the Argents, the King had ordered an embargo on all correspondence to and from the northern border for fear of Argent spies intercepting sensitive information. Meaning, Stiles had not heard from his husband for almost eight months.
The embargo also meant that his husband had no idea that he was about to have a child.
Scott came rushing into the room his mother, and midwife, Melissa McCall not far behind him. Melissa had been the one to attend to Stiles’ own mother on the night of his birth so it had felt fitting for the Prince to invite her to attend his first child’s birth too. Her son Scott having been Stiles’ closest friend and servant for most of his life, was naturally also invited along.
By the time he reached the Prince, Scott was in a panic, fussing over him unrelentingly. “Scott give the poor Prince some air will you!” Snapped Melissa, guiding Stiles calmly to his lay on the bed. “Make yourself useful and fetch a cloth and some warm water.”
With Scott successfully shooed out of the room, Melissa got to work. Stiles’ labour lasted eight hours and he was exhausted afterwards. His reward? A gorgeous baby boy with Derek’s dark features and skin as pale and speckled as Stiles’ own. He really was perfect.
Once the babe had been washed and clothed Melissa handed him to the Prince who could not contain his tears of joy and pride. He was mesmerised by the sleeping form of his son, tucked soundly in his arms.
He lifted the baby to smell his hair and sighed, “Your father is going to love you so much little one, he’ll be so happy you are here.”
---
Stiles stood in the main foyer of the castle, rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. He was nervous and excited. Mostly excited. Derek was due to arrive any minute. Scott was stood behind the Prince with the rest of the household next to him, all eagerly awaiting the return of their King.
Just then, the great doors burst open and the King, cane in hand, stormed in, eyes lowered to the floor. Stiles watched him approach, taking in the sight of his husband leaning into his cane but doing his best to look at ease. The King’s hair and beard were overgrown and his face and arms strewn with scars, the biggest difference was the wooden cane he had clutched in his left hand, supporting his weight. Stiles gasped, but not in shock, his body filled with awe and pride as he drank in the sight of his love. His hero. His survivor.
Derek stopped just short of his husband, failing to acknowledge him. Stiles opened his mouth to welcome his dear husband home when Derek interrupted:
“Isaac, have my things taken to Lady Laura’s old room. I will meet you there.” The King barked, barely casting a glance in his husband’s direction and, with some difficulty, ascending the grand staircase.
Stiles was at a loss. What had just happened? What had he done wrong? Isaac, who had entered shortly after the King, spared a sympathetic glance at his prince and hurried to do as Derek had ordered. Stiles was left, mouth wide open, to the mutterings of the household behind him.
---
It took longer than it should have for Derek to reach his sister’s old bedroom (Laura had married a few years before the war and moved to live with her new husband in a foreign kingdom). Once inside the room Derek closed the door and sagged against it, his leg felt as if it was on fire from his climb.
All Derek could see as he closed his eyes was the look of shock on his lovely husband’s face. That shock had no doubt already turned to disgust and Derek couldn’t bear facing him; he couldn’t bear disappointing him.
Aside from the shock, his husband had looked as lovely as ever. Time had been kind to him and he still supported his dashing good looks and youthful vibrancy. God how Derek had missed him. God how he wished he could face him now: hold him, kiss him, make love to him.
Letting himself sink to the floor the King felt the weight of his situation wash over him. He was home, within reach of everything he had yearned for for five years. Within reach of everything he could no longer have. The tears were threatening to spill when a violent knock sounded through the door.
“Derek! Open up! Please!” It was Stiles, “My love, what is going on? I have so much I need to tell you, it has been so long. Why will you not look at me?”
Derek scrunched up his face as he attempted to resist giving in to his husbands wishes and remained silent.
“Derek!” There was a soft thump on the door as his husband leant his forehead against it on the other side. He knew Stiles would come, he was nothing if not loyal. But Derek couldn’t do this to him, couldn’t saddle him with an unlovable husband. It was best he stay away, let the man carry on as if he had never returned.
“Please.” Stiles said softly, almost inaudibly. Derek’s cheeks grew wet as he finally let his tears fall.
After what felt like an eternity the King heard his husband straighten up on the other side, “Fine. I see how it is. Well, you know where to find me.” The Prince uttered helplessly before solemnly walking away.
Now he was fully alone Derek let his head fall into his arms and sobbed uncontrollably way into the night.
---
Heartbroken, Stiles slowly made his way back to his room, their room. Or, what had been their room. The whole way back he was consumed with thoughts about what to tell Harry. His sweet boy had been so excited to finally meet his other father. So much so, Stiles had had to fight to keep the boy in their rooms upon the King’s arrival, wanting the chance to sit Derek down and tell him about the boy first before bombarding him with an unexpected son. What was he going to tell his son? That his father had changed? That he no longer wanted anything to do with them? The Prince was distraught.
Steeling himself for the worst Stiles gently opened the door to his room. The minute he walked in he was pounced on by the four-year-old, “Papa! Is Daddy here? Where is he?!” the boy exclaimed.
“Hush baby, Daddy’s very tired honey and is very sorry but can’t come to see us tonight. But! He’s so excited to meet you baby, so excited.” Stiles lied.
“B-b-but I want to see Daddy now Papa!” Tears threatened to fall as the little boy frowned.
“I know baby but Daddy is a very important man with such a hard job. We can go to him in the morning sweetie, I promise.” Stiles sniffed.
Pouting the little prince replied, “Cross your heart Papa?”
“Cross my heart baby. Now, let’s get ready for bed love.” Stiles smiled weakly through the pain, hurrying to get his son ready for bed and settled for the night.
Once Harry was sleeping soundly next to him Stiles let his silent tears fall, crying himself into a fitful sleep.
---
When Prince Harry Stilinski-Hale of Beacon awoke the next morning his Papa had already risen. Harry could hear the sounds of his father moving around in the bath chamber behind their bedroom. Harry was sad. He hadn’t been able to meet his Daddy last night and he was so very very excited to see him.
His Papa had always told him the most amazing stories about how brave and kind his Daddy was, how much his Daddy was going to love and cherish him and all the fun things they would do together. All his life Harry had wanted to meet his Daddy and now when he was finally home he still hadn’t met him!
Pouting at how unfair the situation was Harry did his best to slither out of the bed he sometimes shared with his Papa. The bed was a little too high for Harry to get out of easily but, with some bumps along the way, he managed it. He was a boy on a mission!
Listening carefully for any sounds of his Papa coming back, still in his pajamas, the boy snuck out of the room. He was going to find his Daddy whether Papa liked it or not!
Running gleefully down the corridors and hall ways of the castle Harry came to a stop at the entrance to the throne room. Inside he could hear the deep, booming voice of the King as he was finalising peace plans with his advisors. Suddenly shy, Harry tentatively pushed open the door.
At first nobody noticed the little prince entering the room, being so little it was easy for him to go unnoticed when he wanted to. As he tiptoed into the room Harry got his first glimpse of his Daddy. He was easily as tall as his Papa but broader and stronger. He looked tired Harry thought, though Papa had said he was very busy so that was to be expected. His beard, which had been trimmed since the day before, looked full and cozy and his eyes, though stern, looked just as kind as Papa had said.
Overcome with happiness, Harry ran over to the King and hugged his right leg close, eager to finally meet him. Derek, not having noticed the small child in the room, glanced down in shock at the sudden weight around his good leg. Upon seeing a small child there the King balked. Which of his staff had been so careless as to let a child run around a castle like this? It was irresponsible, not to mention a sign of unprofessionalism!
Shaking the child off his leg Derek shouted, “Who’s child is this? Who is so foolish as to let him wander around the castle unattended! Get him out of here at once!”
Harry, who had landed quite suddenly and painfully on his bottom after the King had shook him off, began to sob uncontrollably.
“Stop that racket! Someone get this child out of here at once!” Derek yelled again. His advisors glancing between themselves unable to respond.
Suddenly the doors to the throne room had burst open and Prince Stiles entered, seething. Having heard his son crying from down the hall the Prince had come at once to see what had happened, hearing Derek yelling he was enraged. He swept into the room and scooped the child up into his arms, shushing him and bouncing up and down softly in an attempt to sooth him.
Once Harry’s tears had soothed to a few harsh intakes of breath, Stiles rounded on the King, eyes ablaze, “How dare you! Are you so changed that you are unable to recognise your own flesh and blood? He is a little boy Derek! A little boy who has been so excited to meet you and this is how you treat him! The Derek I knew would have never treated any child in such a way, let alone his own son! You may have decided that you no longer want me, but don’t you dare, ever, take that out on him!”
With that, the Prince stormed out of the throne room, slamming the door behind him. This time, Derek was the one left gaping. He had a son?
---
A few minutes ticked by as Derek continued to gaze at the door through which his husband had left. His royal advisors had since scattered, making their excuses, leaving the King alone with his shame.
He had a son? He had had no idea. None whatsoever. Never had he even imagined that he would be returning to a family, his own family. One that he had surely just ruined.
Springing into action the King rushed, as much as his leg would allow, to the door of what had been his and Stiles’ bedroom. Pausing, he gathered up as much courage as he could manage before knocking softly at the door.
Rustling came from within and a few moments later Scott, his husband’s favourite servant, popped his head around the door.
“Your Majesty!” He said bowing his head slightly, “It’s nice to see you again sir. But, ahem… I’m not sure this is a good time sir. The Prince is, well, incensed.” Scott said sheepishly.
“God damn right I’m incensed!” Stiles roared from within, “Please tell my brute of a husband to kindly fuck off Scott!”
Gulping, Derek directed his response at Scott, “Could you please tell my husband how sorry I am and that all I want is a second chance to meet my son.”
“Ha! That’s rich.” With that Scott was pulled away from the door and replaced by the Prince whose face was red with rage. God, Derek thought, he’s beautiful when he’s angry. “Why should I let you see him now! He’s distraught Derek! Heartbroken! By you!” Stiles seethed.
“I know, I know and I am sorry. So deeply sorry. I had no idea he existed Stiles! I had thought he was the child of one of our employees, I did not take the time to think before acting. Please Stiles, let me see my son.” The King pleaded.
Stiles narrowed his eyes at his husband, “It shouldn’t have mattered whether he was the child of one of our staff or not. He did not deserve to be treated that way!”
“I know, I am ashamed of myself, truly. It’s been a long night.” Derek sighed, rubbing his eyes.
“Yes. Well.” Huffed Stiles, turning to look back into the room. Derek presumed he was looking at their son. “Fine. But one wrong move and you’re out buddy.” He said, finally relinquishing the door, allowing the King to enter.
As he timidly stepped into the room Derek noticed the little boy, his son, curled up on the bed breathing softly. “Is he sleeping?” he asked.
“Not really, hang on.” Stiles replied walking over to the child and shaking him softly, “Hey baby, Daddy’s here to see you. He’s really sorry for upsetting you baby, he was just surprised is all.” He said with a pointed look at the King.
A little sniff rose out from the little ball on the bed.
“Papa’s right Harry, you just gave me a shock is all. I am so happy to meet you little one.” Derek said softly sitting on the end of the bed.
With a hiccup Harry sat up, scooching backwards until his back was resting on Stiles’ chest, legs close to his own chest, as if on guard. “Really?” he said softly.
“Yes baby, I promise. Meeting you is such a wonderful surprise, you look just like your Papa.”
“Papa says I look like Daddy” Harry responded.
“Your Papa has always been blind to his own beauty.” Derek chuckled. Upon hearing that Stiles gasped looking away from the pair.
“Papa is the best, don’t you dare be mean to him.” Harry frowned.
“I would do nothing of the sort my Prince.” The King responded bowing his head which received a slight nod from his son.
“Good.”
“Now, may I have a proper hug hello from my wonderful little boy.” Derek begged quietly.
“Papa?” Harry said spinning his head to look up at Stiles.
“Of course baby, go on.” Stiles smiled wistfully.
With that Harry clumsily climbed to his knees and shuffled along the bed, finally throwing his arms around his Daddy.
“Thank you baby, I am so sorry.” Derek whispered into his son’s hair.
“It’s okay this time Daddy.”
“Thank you baby.” Derek repeated softy, cradling the boy as if he might disappear at any moment.
---
It both warmed and broke Stiles’ heart to see his son and his husband together at last. He had anticipated this moment for four years, imagining daily what his husband’s reaction to the boy would be. Excitement? Joy? Tears of happiness? Never had he imagined their meeting like this. So, overthrown by sadness.
He was glad that Derek had sought them out, had made amends with his child but selfishly Stiles’ heart yearned for just an ounce of that attention for himself. Why was his husband being so cold towards him? What had he done to warrant such treatment? Was the thought of being together so abhorrent to the King?
He sniffed as he watched the pair hug at the foot of the bed. Unable to watch any longer he stood and looked towards Scott who had been silently watching the exchange from near the door. Nodding at his oldest friend, he swept from the room, needing some time alone.
He walked the castle for what felt like hours and was no clearer on what had happened between him and his husband to cause such harsh treatment. Resigned, he made his way back to his chambers.
They were empty when he got there, Harry must have been spending time with his father. That was good, as it should be. Sighing, Stiles fell into bed, alone, drifting off into a mournful sleep.
---
A month had passed since his return to the castle and Derek’s relationship with his son was flourishing. Little Harry looked at him with such joy and admiration every day that Derek had to stop to think of how truly lucky he was to have been blessed with such a child. His relationship with his husband however, was still cold and distant.
Derek had made sure to keep Stiles at arm’s length, only conversing with him politely around their son, not allowing himself to be alone with the younger man. This is the way it needed to be, Derek had to reassure himself. He would not be able to survive the look of disgust that would surely mar his husband’s lovely face if they were to be intimate again. His new, war-torn, body was nowhere near that of the King that took Stiles to bed on their wedding night.
As if to interrupt this tirade of internal self-pity, Isaac cleared his throat, rousing the King from his musings.
“Sorry to disturb you sir, I just wanted to remind you that Lord and Lady Whittemore will be arriving today for their visit. Should I have the cooks prepare a welcome meal for them this evening?” Isaac asked.
Stomach filling with dread Derek responded, “Of course Isaac, I had forgotten all about it. Make the necessary arrangements.” With a nod Isaac bowed and exited the room.
Damn, thought Derek. He could not think of anything worse right now that the company of Lord Whittemore. He had half a mind to cancel their visit. Especially after what he had overheard the Lord say that night on the front. If it hadn’t been for Stiles’ deep admiration and friendship with Lord Whittemore’s wife Lady Lydia, he would have done so in a heartbeat.
With his marriage so obviously fragile, the King just had to steel himself for a weekend of taunts and judgmental comments from the pair.
---
Lady Lydia Whittemore made her entrance as spectacularly as usual, and Stiles for one was delighted to see his friend. Finally, a glimmer of light in his life, if only for a weekend. Forcing himself to smile he greeted her by sweeping her up off her feet into his embrace, burying his face in her sweet strawberry blonde curls.
Once he had put her down she took one long look into his eyes and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Pleadingly, Stiles responded, “Not here.” He then turned to shake the hand of Lord Whittemore who looked as smug as usual.
“The King not coming to greet us?” Jackson asked slyly.
“He will be joining us shortly; he is currently bathing our son.” Stiles replied indignantly.
“Yes of course! I can’t wait to see my sweet little nephew again. I have brought a small ball room’s worth of gifts for him!” Lydia gushed, still looking at Stiles suspiciously.
“Lydia! You spoil him!”
“If I can’t spoil the Crown Prince of Beacon then who can I spoil” The redhead huffed.
As if they had been summoned Derek, with Harry in his arms, appeared through the door to the formal dining room. Passing Harry into Stiles’ waiting arms the King moved to shake Lord Whittemore’s hand in greeting.
“Hello again, old friend. It is nice to see you all cleaned up.”
“You too your Majesty. Glad to see a decent bath has done you the world of good.” Responded Jackson, slyly.
Lydia elbowed her husband in the side on her way past, offering her hand for the King to kiss.
“And Lady Lydia, looking radiant as always.” The King bowed, eyes flickering briefly in a scowl towards the smug Lord. Lydia immediately moving away to coo over her adorable nephew.
“Ahem, right. Anyway, shall we be seated!” Stiles called with fake cheeriness, passing Harry over to a nearby Scott who, with some protest from the four-year-old, carted him off to bed. The wavering tone in Stiles’ voice earned him a squinted glance from Lydia as they took their seats.
---
Dinner had been relatively painless, with all parties still on their best, and most polite, behaviour, but Stiles couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief once he had been able to retire to his rooms for the night.
However, the Prince should have known better than to think he had escaped the Lady Lydia, for shortly after he had entered the room there was a sharp knock on the door.
“Stiles! Open up! You can’t avoid answering my question forever!” Lydia demanded from behind the heavy wooden door. Knowing there was no use fighting the redhead, Stiles sheepishly opened the door and let the Lady in.
“Now, spill. Not only do you look all sad and tired but you and Derek barely said two words to each other all night! That’s not like you, what’s happened?” Lydia marched into the center of the room, hands on her hips, the long train of her white night gown swooshing around her ankles.
Stiles opened his mouth to respond but found that no words would come out. Instead, he let out an almighty sob and broke down right then and there. Lydia immediately rushed to take the Prince into her arms, shushing him as they both lowered to sit on the floor, holding one another.
“Oh Stiles, shush. Surely it’s not that bad?” Lydia whispered sympathetically.
“It is Lydia, oh it is! It’s been awful and I don’t even know why.” Stiles wailed.
“What has sweetie? What?” Lydia frowned, looking down at the man in her arms.
“He won’t touch me, won’t talk to me, he can barely look at me Lydia. It has been this way ever since he came home. He even snapped at Harry the first time they met! It’s just so unlike Derek. He’s come home a completely different person Lyds.” Stiles sniffed sadly, wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his undershirt.
“Oh honey, war does change people. Jackson is definitely a little edgier these days and even more short tempered than he was before. Are you sure it’s not just that?” Lydia offered.
“No, no. I expected that, I prepared for that. But Lyds, he acts as if he hates me, like he can’t bear to be in the same room as me. L-like he’s disgusted by me!” Stiles began to wail again.
“Oh Stiles, please don’t cry! I can’t have you so upset over an Alpha!” Lydia rubbed the Prince’s back in an attempt to sooth him.
“He’s not just any Alpha Lyds. He’s my Alpha, my husband, and I have all but lost him.”
“I am sure there is more to it than that. I’m sure there is nothing you have done wrong love, and I will get to the bottom of this before the weekend's out, rest assured!” Lydia nodded determinedly as the Prince continued to sob into her skirts.
---
Meanwhile, playing the role of the polite host, Derek had been forced to spend the remainder of his evening after dinner entertaining Lord Whittemore in his study. The pair were sat near the fire, mugs full of mead, discussing life after the war.
Jackson had been busy regaling Derek with raunchy tales of his and Lady Lydia’s reunion, when the Kings attention had drifted elsewhere, eyes glazed over as he stared into the flames of the fire before him.
“How about you and Prince Stiles?” Jackson leaned forward, wiggling his eyebrows, ever-present smirk on his face. Before he could school himself Derek visibly grimaced, only serving to widen the smirk on the Lord’s face.
“Trouble in paradise?”
“No.” Grunted the King.
“Only, I noticed the atmosphere between the two of you was rather frosty at dinner…” Jackson said, eyebrow raised.
“You noticed wrong.” Derek barked defensively.
“If you say so sire. If you say so.” Jackson leaned back smugly, looking towards the fire.
“I do!”
“I never said you didn’t.” The Lord responded almost gleefully.
---
“Derek James Hale the Third!”
Derek woke with a start as a tiny redheaded whirlwind marched into his room. Glancing at the window Derek could tell that morning had only just broken.
“Excuse me?” He blinked at the girl, astounded that she would confront him, the King, in such a way.
“Don’t give me that! You know why I’m mad at you.” Lydia huffed, affronted.
“I assure you Lady Lydia, I do not.” Derek grimaced.
“Stiles!”
“Oh.”
Lydia fixed him with a look of expectation.
“Could you at least give me a moment to get dressed before I receive my telling off?” Derek implored.
“Fine.” She huffed, storming back out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Five minutes later, hastily dressed, the King opened the door and beckoned the woman inside. Lydia reentered the room with all of the ferocity of her earlier attempt.
“Well?” She probed.
“What has he told you?”
“That his husband can barely look at him, let alone touch him! That he is distraught because he has no idea what it is he has done to offend you so!” Lydia cried.
“He has done nothing! He is perfect, he always has been to me.” Derek frowned, “Surely he knows that?”
“How could he when the love of his life, the father of his child, treats him with such derision!” Lydia threw her hands up in the air in frustration. How could Alpha’s be so oblivious?
“I have never intended to make Stiles feel that way, I shall apologise at the next opportunity. Does that satisfy you?” He suggested.
“Not even close Your Majesty! I want answers. Why? Why are you treating him so if he himself has done nothing wrong?”
“Because I am not good enough!” The King roared. “I am weak, broken. I’m nowhere near the man Stiles married, nowhere near the man he fell in love with anymore. How could I be so arrogant as to assume his feelings towards me would not change when I have changed so much.”
Lydia could not believe what she was hearing, “Are you stupid?”
“Excuse me?” The King blinked, affronted for the second time that day.
“Do you really think Stiles so fickle as to care about a cane and a few scars? Do you really think that low of him?” Lydia responded, disgusted.
“Of course not! I know he would try to grin and bear it. I know he would be with me out of some misguided sense of loyalty. But I can’t do that to him Lydia! I can’t make him sacrifice his own happiness like that and I can’t do that to myself. I wouldn’t be able to handle him looking at me like that. It is best that I leave him be and let him live as if I never came home.”
“You really are an idiot.” Lydia spat, “That boy loves you, just as much now as he did back then. Maybe even more now. Who has put these ridiculous, self-pitying, ideas into your head?”
The King glanced guiltily up at Lydia in answer to her question and from that one glance she knew.
“It was Jackson wasn’t it? I’m going to kill him.” And with that she stormed from the room, leaving Derek feeling stunned and even more confused than before.
---
Derek was disgusted with himself; he had tried his absolute best to keep Stiles away from harm, to protect him from having to sacrifice his own happiness and in turn, ended up hurting him anyway. He hadn’t meant to make Stiles feel uncomfortable in his own home, he didn’t want the Prince to feel like he had to walk on eggshells around him. He had been doing him a favour. Hadn’t he?
Derek had been wandering aimlessly around the castle for hours now, mulling everything Lady Lydia had told him over in his mind. Turning a corner, he suddenly found himself locking eyes with Stiles, jumping in shock before he leant in for a better look. It was their wedding portrait. It hadn’t been finished before he left for war. They had looked so happy back then.
Wincing, he forced himself to look upon his own image; the ideal King: strong, handsome, worthy. Seeing his own smiling face as realisation suddenly dawned on him. Was it really Stiles he was trying to protect, or himself?
The King sank to his knees, staring up at the portrait above him, tears threatening to fall. Was Lady Lydia right? Was he being an idiot? Could Stiles still possibly want him?
For the first time in months, the King felt a glimmer of hope ignite in his chest.
“Daddy? What doing?” A little voice came from the side.
“Nothing baby, just Daddy being silly.” Derek sniffed. Harry took a moment to ponder his father before waddling over to him and falling into a hug. Once he was settled the young Prince looked up at the painting too.
“Papa!” He said, pointing.
“Yes baby.”
“And Daddy!” The boy observed. Derek smiled sadly.
“And Daddy.”
“Papa loves Daddy.” Harry looked up at his father now, big eyes rounded.
“I’m not sure about that love.” Derek reached to sweep some of his son’s hair off his forehead.
“No, Papa said! He loves Daddy!” The boy insisted, nodding firmly.
“And when did Papa say this?” Derek chuckled sadly, eyebrows raised.
“Before, to Aunt Lydia.”
“Before? As in today?”
“Yes Daddddyyy.” Harry was impatient now, wriggling out of his father’s grip. “Silly Daddy!”
Following this, Harry promptly started to totter down the hallway in the direct he came. Derek stood to follow, that glimmer of hope growing with each step.
---
Stiles was sat by the fire in his rooms, head in hand, bags around his eyes, when he heard the telltale patter of his son’s feet at the door. Hearing a second pair of footsteps Stiles realized he wasn’t alone, assuming it was Scott, the Prince made no moves to look up.
“Daddy sit!” Harry called and Stiles’ head shot up with a start, eyes immediately meeting his husband’s. The King sat opposite the Prince gingerly.
Leaning forward to grasp his husband’s hand in his, Derek sighed, “Oh love, I am so sorry. I have been such a fool.”
Dumbfounded, Stiles blinked.
“I was so worried that when I came home you would take one look at me, scarred and broken as I am, and no longer love me as you once had. I was afraid, but I believe I have done you a great disservice.” The King nodded solemnly.
Stiles narrowed his eyes now, expectantly.
Gulping, His Majesty continued, “I had spent so long away from home yearning for you that it hardly seemed real, the thought of coming back to you. Then, Lord Whittemore, he well, implied that you might not want me in my current state.” Derek winced in shame.
“Wait a minute,” Stiles replied, appalled, “you’re telling me that all this time you have treated me as if I were the worst person on earth to have possibly been married to, because of something Jackson said? Of all people! How could you have so little trust in me?”
The King winced again, “It was never a matter of trust Stiles. I’m afraid in the end it was my own pride that caused me to act in such a way. I am not the man I was before the war; I can barely look at myself, so how can I expect you to have to look at me now?”
Stiles stood up sharply dislodging Derek’s hand. The King looked down ashamedly, jumping when he felt the Prince cradle his face in his big hands. Looking up Derek saw Stiles was crouched in front of him.
“You foolish man.” The Prince tutted fondly, “No. You’re not the man you were Derek. Before you were a young King, barely finding his feet, still figuring out what to do for the best. Sure, you were handsome and charming and I loved you for that. But now? Now you’re hero and a father. I may not have been in your bed these past months but I’ve watched you with Harry and fallen more and more in love with you because of it. I am distraught that you have put yourself through all of this turmoil for my sake when I couldn’t be more in love with you if I tried.”
“Are you not angry with me?”
“Yes. Furious. But I miss you too much for that to matter now.” Stiles sighed. “I was so worried that you wouldn’t want me anymore, now that you have grown so much as a King. I was scared that you would no longer have need for the silly little Prince you married before the war.”
Outraged, Derek responded, “No! You are everything to me Stiles. You have kept me alive all these years, the thought of you was often my only light in those dark days of war. I didn’t want to let you down. I had promised you I would come back in one piece and I failed.”
Smiling wetly, Stiles sniffed, “The fact that you have returned to me at all is a miracle. I don’t care what state you are in as long as you are here with me. Always.”
“Always, I promise.” The King replied, bringing his forehead to rest against Stiles’, both men grinning wildly.
“Daddy kiss Papa better now!” Harry squealed from where he had been stood watching his too silly parents talk. The royal couple jumped, having forgotten their son was in the room at all.
Chuckling, the King cupped his husband’s check in his hand and brought their lips together softly. At last, they were reunited.