you can't wake up, this is not a dream
(au part 1/3)
characters: Stiles Stilinski, Kira Yukimura, Theo Raeken (he appears on the next part)
word count: 2k+
warning/s: see tags (who even reads tags? but this is a mess, to summarize)
or read on AO3
---
It is on a night of a snowstorm when Stiles's life turns upside down.
They have just been voted out of Beacon Kingdom after days of utter chaos following Stiles's coming-of-age, revealing his power in a ceremony performed in front of the entire Kingdom. It is supposed to be an evening of festivity, for, after three hundred years, Queen Noshiko finally has a successor - another powerful fox to keep all the Kingdom in its glory. But out of thirteen possible spirits to manifest in him, Stiles has to be the poisoned one. Great, yes, that's a given, but terrible all the same, the most terrible.
An uproar instead of fireworks break the solemnity of the ritual. Stiles and his younger sister are immediately escorted to their chambers, the best of their soldiers stationed inside and outside to protect them, in likely chance that the spiraling panic gives way to violence.
Five days of being exiled into their chambers while the Queen tries to quell the havoc, the siblings receive news of a decision unanimously voted by the council. The Queen has lost the throne, and she, along with her children, is banished from the Kingdom. They are to live with the Druids in the village on the outskirt of the Kingdom. It can be worse; the Druids are not the friendliest, but they are far from ruthless.
But the lightness of the sentence is not an excuse. Stiles's family has not sinned, yet they suffer punishment for something that is beyond their control. If he must go, Stiles will do so. His mother, who has waited centuries to have children as she devoted herself wholly to her duty and vow to the Kingdom and lost her King before his time, doesn't deserve this. His little sister, twelve-year-old sweet, mischievous Kira, doesn't warrant this injustice. It is him that they want out of the Kingdom, then it must only be him that leaves.
He tells his mother so when she comes to his room, the handmaids preparing his belongings, stripping his room of its eighteen years of memories of him.
But she only smiles, holding the side of his face in her soft palm. Underneath her skin, he can smell the power flowing in her veins, rich like blood. Now that he wields his own, he senses hers - he senses all. He knows exactly how old she is, sees the wisdom in her eyes, in her small smile. She is calm despite the storm. The council has dethroned her from the seat that nobody else has touched before. And yet, she does not look defeated at all.
"They have and will live but for a moment, dear," his mother tells him. "We are forever."
His mother leans to kiss his forehead, and Stiles is still furious, but that is the end of their discussion. She sends him to collect his sister, who is curled in on herself on her bed, in anguish.
"Why do they wish to get rid of us?" Kira sniffles when she senses her brother's presence. The mattress dips under Stiles's weight when he moves to sit on the edge, looking down on his sister. Kira hugs herself inside her traveling cloak, one similar to Stiles's. The rich color, the expensive fabric, the gemstone embellishments - no one will mistake them for anything other than royalty.
They may be in gold, but they're still about to be outcasts.
Kira wipes her eyes, sitting up to face her brother. She has never looked so small before. Kira is only twelve, Stiles eighteen, but Kira has always been as brilliant as her brother. She has never stood in the shadow of anyone, not even their mother. It is foreseeable even now in her devastated state that Kira, as was Stiles before his power manifested, is destined for a great future. She emanates strength deep inside, clouded only by confusion and hurt of the sudden turn of events.
Guilt spears him in the heart, overwhelmed once more with bitter thoughts. Kira doesn't have to bear the consequences. She can be the heir instead of Stiles. Kira will make a better Queen than Stiles will ever be as a King, he knows. Under her reign, the Kingdom will flourish for centuries, the Tree of Plenty protected and nourished for the next generations to come.
Kira peers up to Stiles through long and moist lashes. Stiles smiles, albeit taut, as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind one ear. Kira speaks again, voice low, like revealing a secret. "Is it because you're a nogitsune, brother? What they call the cursed fox?"
Stiles recoils his hand back as if electrified by her question. It is only appropriate, he thinks. Stiles has always thought she will be a thunder kitsune, striking them all down where they stand when she comes of age. It is all the more reason that she has to stay. The people only want the odd one out. So cast him out, the bane of their existence, he thinks as his stomach churns in resentment. Anger prickles on the surface of his skin, warm and then burning, and Stiles turns away to hide his face from Kira. He knows his eyes are glowing, but not anymore with fiery orange. They're bright and black as befitting a demon.
She crawls the small distance between them, pressing herself behind Stiles, lacing her arms around him. She lays her head on his clothed back, rubbing her cheeks back and forth to soothe her brother.
It is working. Stiles can feel his heart evening out, anger fading back underneath.
After a moment, Stiles holds on to the arms around his midriff. He leans back on Kira as her voice cuts through the silence that has befallen around them. "It's not your fault, brother," she tells him, tightening her grip even as her tears soak the fabric of his cloak. "People fear the power that they don't understand."
They stay wrapped in their warm embrace for a while until a knock comes, announcing the presence of a guard. It is time.
•••
It is a civil affair, but one laden with tension. Stiles and Kira are escorted out of the castle first and into an awaiting carriage. It is the same one that his mother rides when she visits around the Kingdom.
Kira has stopped crying, and she takes every step with dignity, chin up and eyes forward, her cloak dragging behind her as she goes. Stiles does the same, trying to ignore the harsh whispers of the few people present for their send-away procession, their mad gazes piercing him to ribbons if they could. Some have spat as he descends the snowy stairs with a crunch, cursing audibly. He is not welcome anymore. Just a week ago, the people honored him as their prince and heir to the throne, their future King. Now, they think him no less than a vermin.
Stiles feels wretched for what fear drives people to do.
When they are inside the warmth and safety of the carriage, Kira exhales a shaky breath, one she seems to be holding for a while. She sags into the seat, blending in with the shadows. Stiles reaches for her hand, lacing their gloved fingers together. Kira doesn't move from her position, but she squeezes their hands to let him know that she is still holding on.
Their mother comes last, escorted by so many unnecessary guards in her sides in front and behind her. Talia is with her, one from the Hale clan and their mother's second. She is a promising young woman, no more than twenty-five years, and a strong werewolf. She will temporarily sit at the throne until the council decides on the Queen's replacement. Whoever gets chosen is now responsible for expanding their lineage and producing heirs. They can't delay for centuries like Stiles's mother had done. They do not live as long as Kitsunes can.
"They have and will live but for a moment, dear," his mother tells him. "We are forever."
He peers a little from behind the carriage glass and finds his mother, dressed in much lighter, casual garments, talking to Talia. Stiles hears their muffled voices from where he sits, like listening through water, so he strains his ears, summoning the water away. Suddenly, with a small popping sound, the familiar voices become vivid in his senses.
"-safe, Noshiko," Talia is saying. It takes a long second before she adds, "I regret that this has to happen."
"I do, too," her mother replies.
"I wish you would reconsider," Talia pleads. "The council will still accept you if you only agree to their terms."
"I will not," his mother responds, not missing a beat.
Talia grunts, impatience bleeding in her tone, "You, of all, should know it makes sense. Three hundred years ago, you and the first council convened to defeat the nogitsune hurling unspeakable terror in this land, playing with power that sustains life to many. You built this Kingdom from rubbles with our ancestors and vowed to protect the Tree of Plenty from wicked hands so that we may all prosper," Talia pauses to suck in a breath. "Your son is a nogitsune, Noshiko."
"I am aware, Talia." Her mother continues to sound even. "And I am fulfilling my vow to the Tree of Plenty. Although my son has no ill intentions toward it, I am choosing to go with him, away from where you think he is a threat."
"That will not be enough for them!" she hisses in a whisper.
"The council swore to me that it is when I conceded the throne of Beacon," her mother sighs. "They should honor their word."
Before Talia can reply, the lieutenant guard breaks their conversation, declaring the need to hasten as the storm gets worse, the path darkening.
Stiles's mother speaks one last time, "Do I have your word, Talia?"
Stiles hears the barest of sniffles, and then a final bid of confidence, "You have it."
•••
It is quiet inside the carriage as they make their way toward the Village of Druids, where they will spend their eternity as exiles. Outside, the blizzard worsens.
Suddenly, their mother's voice breaks the somber atmosphere. "Stiles," she calls, loud in the small space.
Stiles whips his head up to answer the call. His skin prickles at the look in his mother's eyes; they're trembling. It is the first time that Stiles has seen her terrified. "Mother?"
Kira straightens from her seat, too, noticing the alarm.
"In a short distance, this carriage will stop." Their mother says, enunciating every word with clear, hard voice. "When it does, I want you to be ready to grab Kira and run to the forest as fast and as far as possible. Find Marin in the Druids Village. Talia will make sure that no one goes to search for you."
Stiles frowns in confusion, heartbeat steadily rising, "But the Village is, at least, a few more hours away."
His mother shakes her head, eyes softening in sorrow. "They do not intend to deliver us to the Druids at all."
Stiles understands it, then. This all pretense; a show to bring them away from the castle where they can executed. The council has, after all, decided to kill them. Once again, his skin burns from underneath, desperate to set free and rage. He locks his jaw, eyes flashing black. "Then we fight, Mother."
"I will fight," his mother nods, reaching to take his hands in hers. "But you will have to take Kira and run."
Stiles attempts to shake her hands off, but she holds on tight. Stiles snarls, "I will not run. They have betrayed us. Kira will fight, too." He turns to his sister beside him, seeking her support.
Kira is terrified, but from that, she draws her courage. Her eyes glow their orange, intense, ready to fire. She doesn't look like a child any longer when she nods.
"You don't understand," their mother says, transferring one of her hands to touch Kira's knee, too, demanding their attention again, to listen. "I am weakened. The council - Gerard - has taken my eight tails amidst the disorder on Stiles's ceremony, taking advantage of the opportunity to disarm me. He already planned to usurp me even before Stiles presented as a nogitsune. They have sent the most loyal of their men in this journey to make certain none of us comes back, and we cannot fight them all."
"So you want us to run and hide like cowards?" Stiles cries, incredulous. "While you hold them back?"
"I am your mother and Queen," their mother growls, voice rising and tone final, as the carriage skitters. Her eyes glow a scorching blue, a star in blazes, and both her children cower. "And you will do as I command."
•••
As his mother predicted, the carriage stops after another few miles. When the doors open, she is already wrapped in blue flames, consuming all the power her one tail can offer, as she pounces at the guards, sending fire after fire, setting almost half of them in flames in an instant.
The mania from the unexpected assault provides the leeway for Stiles to slip out. Blending into the darkness, with a crying Kira in tow, he escapes. Their mother combats the remaining others who have not burnt, while Stiles runs as fast as he can deep into the forest.
They are already at a safe distance but still partially visible. Stiles holds on to Kira as tight as possible, ignoring the twigs that smack him in the face as he races away, determined to accomplish a final command. Even in their range, however, he still hears when his mother falls at last, grunting in pain.
He desperately tries to ignore it, but he can't. His feet stop in their tracks, turning back just in time to see a sword descending onto his mother, slashing with a sickening crunch. Kira screams just as their mother drops with a thud on the snow.
Forever is until someone severs your head, apparently.
Kira's cry alerts the guards of their location, and Stiles has no time to mourn. But something snaps inside him, breaking and flooding out. He knows his eyes have lost their color again, his gut twisting, and inside his head he sees his hands closing around a faceless neck as his claws dig holes through skin.
A moment later, Stiles hears men choking in their own blood, gasping for air that isn't there.
He continues running then, letting Kira grieve for both of them this time, as Stiles must see through to the end as he promised.
~•~
title from: Gasoline by Halsey
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BITE: Chapter 12
percy jackson / teen wolf crossover
the finale of teen wolf has absolutely destroyed me
12/? - Scott
Scott bowed forward, head in his hands. He was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Jeep, waiting in the Beacon Hills High School parking lot for Allison and Isaac, and he really wished they’d hurry up.
“Okay, so, can we just go over this one more time?” Stiles asked from the driver’s seat, running a hand through his hair. “Your friend died and her body got turned into a pine tree… and then you collected this magical fleece and put it on the tree and brought her back to life?”
“As a person, yeah,” Percy clarified from the back seat.
Stiles gave him a look. “Oh, good to know we’re not dealing with talking trees now, fantastic. We can cross Ents off the list of weird shit to deal with, that just leaves seven million other possibilities -”
“It wasn’t just her body,” Annabeth interrupted. “It was her. Zeus trapped her soul in the tree so she wouldn’t go to the afterlife.”
For a second, Scott swore the sky got darker as a cloud rolled overhead. Percy glanced out the window and rolled his eyes, mumbling something that sounded an awful lot like piss off.
“Okay, and why would Lydia draw that tree -”
“Thalia’s tree.”
“Yeah, Thalia’s tree, why would Lydia draw it? It’s in New York, right?”
“I was drawing the Nemeton because that’s where your parents were, right?” Lydia said. She was crammed into the backseat with Percy and Annabeth, sitting as close to the door as she could get. “Maybe there’s something at Thalia’s Tree we need to find, too.”
Annabeth and Percy shared a look. “Uh, I really hope not,” Percy said.
“Why not? We’ve found plenty of unfindable things before.”
“How many of those unfindable things were being guarded by a dragon?” Percy asked.
Stiles stopped drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and turned around in his seat. “A dragon?”
“Yeah, if we do go it’ll probably have to be just Annabeth and I -”
“I don’t think there’s anything hiding there that we need to find,” Annabeth cut across her boyfriend. She was looking out the front window, at the entrance to the school, but Scott got the feeling her mind was actually a million miles away.
“Why else would it - Oh, you know what? Lydia, text Allison and tell her to meet us there. I’m not waiting anymore.” Stiles put the Jeep in reverse and backed out of the parking space, roared out of the lot and headed to the clinic.
The sign said Closed, but Scott unlocked the door and led them in anyway. “Deaton?” he called.
There was no response.
“You didn’t call and let him know we were coming?” Lydia asked, closing the door behind herself.
“I thought he’d be here,” Scott said. He led the way past the counter and into the actual clinic itself. The room was empty, operating tables clear, but the lights were on.
“He’s gotta be here somewhere...”
There was a clatter and everyone turned to see Percy holding a beaker. “Sorry,” he said, gingerly placing it back on the table.
“Scott, why do your friends always feel the need to break my belongings?”
Scott smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Deaton.”
The veterinarian smiled warmly at Percy and Annabeth from the doorway. “And what brings you here today?”
“Uh, well, Deaton, this is Annabeth and Percy -” Scott stopped mid-introduction, stomach dropping at the look of recognition on Deaton’s face.
The demigods noticed it too. Their posture immediately shifted as they went on the defensive. Percy’s hand went straight to his pocket, and Annabeth’s eyes swept over the room, from one exit to the next. They were both ready to fight their way out of there, as quickly as possible.
Deaton sighed and rubbed his temple before fixing his smile back on. “Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson, I presume?”
“Who’s asking?” Percy’s voice was a low growl, more defensive than it had been when he’d been talking to any of the monsters they’d faced so far.
Scott glanced over at Stiles and Lydia. Stiles shrugged, mouthing, What? while Lydia shook her head, lips pressed tightly together. Scott was mildly comforted by the fact that they were just as confused as he was.
“I’m Alan Deaton,” he introduced himself. “I’m a Druid Emissary.”
Percy blinked. “A what?”
“Think of me as a philosopher.”
“I thought you were a veterinarian.”
Deaton smiled. “That too.”
Annabeth made a guttural noise from the back of her throat, like a warning, and shook her head. “Druid, that’s Celtic, right?”
“Celtic?” Percy glanced at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me, not another -”
Annabeth cut him off, snapping at Deaton, “Answer the question.”
Scott stepped over to Deaton. “He’s on our side, guys, you can trust him.”
“It’s all right, Scott, thank you. They’re right to be wary.”
“Not really helping your case there, Doc,” Stiles said.
Deaton ignored him and refocused on Percy and Annabeth. “I'd heard that the connection between the two of you was strong, but this is..." He paused and shook his head, as if composing himself. "You’re very popular with the Dryads, you know.”
“Wha -” Percy pulled his pen from his pocket and brandished it like the weapon it truly was. “What are you talking about?”
“I did expect to see Grover with you, though.”
Annabeth and Percy’s eyes widened. Scott watched as their gazes met, a silent conversation, and then Annabeth shifted, almost imperceptibly putting herself just in front of Percy. “Who are you, and how do you know our names?”
“I told you, I’m a Druid,” Deaton repeated. “I work as an Emissary between nature and… other things.”
“Like werewolves,” Scott supplied helpfully. “Trust me guys, he’s good, he’s been helping us this whole time -”
“That doesn’t explain how you know our names,” Percy said.
“The Dryads haven’t stopped talking about you since the war,” Deaton said. This sounded like nonsense to Scott, but seemed to make perfect sense to the demigods.
“Which one?” Percy muttered.
Scott felt, not for the first time, that there was so much more he had to learn about these two.
“Did they tell you we were coming?” Annabeth asked.
Deaton shook his head. “There were rumours of unrest, but I didn’t expect… I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Am I the only one who feels like this conversation has revealed exactly nothing?” Stiles asked loudly, throwing his arms out to the side.
Scott said, “Yeah, would you mind filling us in?”
Percy’s posture relaxed slightly, but he didn’t put away his pen. “Dryads are nature spirits,” he explained. “Obviously he can communicate with them. I wouldn’t exactly call that philosophy, but…”
“Why were they talking about you, though?” Scott asked.
“Your new friends are famous, Scott,” Deaton said. “They’ve saved the world, and the nature spirits are extremely grateful for it.”
Both Percy and Annabeth looked extremely uncomfortable with this revelation. Percy rubbed the back of his neck and Annabeth glared off into the distance.
“What?” Stiles burst out. “Saved the world, like, saved the world, the whole world? Or like, just America? Or just New York? Or just the demigod world, like -”
“The world, world,” Annabeth snapped. “Twice.”
Stiles gaped.
She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and turned away. “You’re welcome.”
“But - wait, who’s -?”
Stiles was interrupted by someone banging on the door of the clinic, shouting. Scott recognised the voice instantly. “Allison!”
He ran for the doorway, everyone else following behind. Allison was banging on the glass with one hand, holding her bow with the other. When she saw Scott approaching she smiled, for the briefest of moments, before turning around and loading the bow.
“It just appeared out of nowhere!” she yelled as everyone ran out in the parking lot.
Scott looked from her weapon to her target - a giant black dog, standing next to the Jeep, just like the ones that had attacked them in the reserve and in the labyrinth. Scott drew his claws, coming to stand beside Isaac, who had already shifted.
Allison was about to fire her arrow, when Annabeth threw her dagger - not at the beast, but at Allison’s bow. It hit with perfect accuracy, knocking the weapon out of Allison’s grip.
Before Scott could even process that, Percy ran past him and Isaac, knocking them off balance on the way, and straight towards the hell hound.
“Hey!” he yelled, and he sounded almost - excited?
The dog barked, a deafening sound, and thumped its tail, making the ground shake. It charged at Percy, and Scott thought for sure he was about to be eaten -
But just as the beast reached him it stopped, bumping him lightly in the chest with its nose and then licking him from chest to head.
Scott stopped dead, completely confused. He glanced back to see all of his friends wearing matching expressions of bewilderment.
“Urgh!” Percy shook his arms out, sending tendrils of drool flying onto the side of the Jeep.
“Oh, come on!” Stiles yelled.
“What have I told you about the licking? You know how hard it is to wash this out,” Percy said, but he sounded happy even as he complained. He reached up to scratch the giant dog’s ear, and it barked happily.
“What the hell is happening?” Allison asked.
Annabeth bent down to collect her dagger and Allison’s bow without breaking her stride, tossing the bow back to her without looking. “Meet Mrs O’Leary.”
“Mrs O’Leary?” Isaac repeated, absolutely baffled. “This thing has a name? Like a pet?”
Percy glanced back at him. “Yeah, exactly like a pet. Because she is a pet. My pet.”
“Technically she’s the Camp’s pet.” Annabeth said.
When Mrs O’Leary saw her approaching she barked again, wagging her tail and hopping from one paw to the other.
“Hey, girl,” Annabeth said, patting the side of her muzzle. “It’s good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?” Percy mused.
Annabeth froze with her hand in the air. Percy immediately noticed, following her gaze to the other side of the Jeep.
“You can come out, Nico,” Annabeth called.
A boy with long black hair and pale skin stepped out of the shadows. His expression was completely flat as he glanced over the group. He didn’t say a word of greeting before turning back to Percy. “Where’s Hazel?”
“Safe, with Frank. We’re going back to meet them, we just have to… get some answers first.”
The boy - Nico - looked over the crowd gathered at the clinic entrance again. “Nice to see you’ve made new friends.”
“Shut up.” Percy nudged him in the shoulder.
“Uh. So. The dog’s not going to kill us?” Isaac asked, pointing to Mrs O’Leary. When she saw that he was looking at her she barked again, dropping low and wagging her tail, looking like she was about to pounce.
“Whoa, girl!” both Percy and Nico said in sync, holding their arms up to stop her. “Nope, he doesn’t want to play.”
She sat back on her haunches, whining.
“Sorry,” Percy said, patting her again. He looked over his shoulder at Isaac. “No, she’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“I’ll send her back to Camp,” Nico said. “She really wanted to see you, though.”
Percy hugged her - or, at least, attempted to. It was sort of hard to accomplish, what with her being a gigantic hound from hell. “I miss you too, girl. We’ll be back soon. Promise.”
“Go on,” Nico said. “Back to Camp.”
With one last bark and earth-shaking tail thump, Mrs O’Leary turned and bounded into the shadows, before disappearing entirely.
“Where did it go?” Lydia asked.
“Home,” Nico answered.
“But - how -?” Allison asked, still clutching her bow.
“I think we should continue this conversation inside,” Deaton said, holding the door open.
“Right,” Scott agreed. He waited for Annabeth, Percy and Nico to catch up to him and then followed everyone else back into the clinic.
“Who are you?” Stiles asked Nico as soon as everyone was gathered around the operating tables.
The boy - who looked younger than the rest of them, Scott saw now - was unimpressed. “Who are you?”
“Nico, Stiles. Stiles, Nico,” Percy answered both of them, gesturing between them flippantly. Neither were happy with his intrusion, but he didn’t seem to care. “Time for catch ups later. Right now, we need to figure out why Lydia was drawing Thalia’s Tree.”
“That’s why you’re here?” Deaton asked.
Scott nodded. He gestured to Lydia, and she pulled the page with the sketch on it from her bag and passed it over to Deaton.
“Like the Nemeton,” she said.
“What is Thalia’s Tree?” Deaton asked.
Annabeth gave him a quick rundown of the story. Scott found himself just as surprised as the first time she’d told it. How could she talk so casually about gods turning people into trees? Even for someone who turned into a werewolf that was weird.
When she was finished, Deaton hummed thoughtfully.
“We thought maybe it could be telling us we need to find something, like the Nemeton -” Stiles started.
Annabeth shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Stiles glared at her, clearly not happy at being spoken over.
“Because I know that tree, every inch of it,” Annabeth said. “If there was something hidden there, I would know.”
“Oh, have you been watching over it every minute of every day?”
“I was there when it was made, and I’ve been at Camp long enough to know -”
“Annabeth.” Percy put a hand on her arm.
She stopped, inhaling deeply. “What?”
“We didn’t know that Luke had poisoned the tree,” Percy said, sounding uneasy. “There’s a chance we could have missed something else, too.”
Annabeth clearly wasn’t happy with that. She looked a little hurt, but didn’t argue back. She merely folded her arms over her chest and looked away from the drawing, which Deaton had splayed on the table.
“Nothing’s changed at Camp,” Nico said quietly. “Peleus hasn’t been acting any different. Chiron hasn’t said anything more.”
“All eyes are on Camp Jupiter at the moment,” Percy said. “If someone wanted to strike at Camp Half Blood now would be the perfect time -”
“I think Annabeth’s right,” Deaton said.
“Why don’t you sound happy about that?” Scott asked.
Deaton didn’t answer. He just looked at Lydia. “Do you mind if I keep this?”
“No, god, go ahead,” she said, obviously eager to be rid of it.
“I have to do some research. I’ll call you as soon as I find anything.”
Scott didn’t feel comforted at all. “All right. Thanks, Deaton.”
“You’re welcome.” He managed a weak smile. “Take care of yourself, Scott.”
Scott glanced over his friends as they filed out. Nico was watching him, dark eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, I’ll try.”
.
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