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There once were two young men...
the prince of a kingdom that hated its wolves, and a wolf-man with a lifetime’s worth of misfortune in his brief twenty years. Cursed by dark magic, their love was thwarted just as it began and the wolf-man fled for his life. Years later, at the prince’s betrothal party, a magical gift from the forest wolves appeared – the token of a love that had never died. They say the Queen herself danced three times with her son’s wolf-man that night. But weddings are fleeting joy, and ruling a divided kingdom takes hope, wisdom, and a bit of magic. And good desserts.

High Summer

When the midsummer days were longest, Stiles and Derek’s union was celebrated – for three full nights. The wedding festivities were at last under way after months of delay by the Queen’s ministers, for reasons Stiles called “wolf hatred hidden under useless traditions.”

The forest wolves were invited, belatedly; the ministers mumbled apologies. Gossiping detractors speculated on the obvious scandal of marrying a wolf and a commoner, and whether the Prince and his consort could rule their troubled kingdom.

***

The meager table of wedding gifts was surely a harbinger of doom, Stiles thought.

The royal cook, at her wish known only as 'Cook', approached Stiles and his dark-bearded groom, Derek, now the prince consort. Cook was an old woman who could direct the entire kitchen staff with her fierce eyes alone, but then she had her voice, too, and you listened.

“Your gift table is not groaning, so you assume the kingdom doubts your marriage.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that, Cook-", Stiles choked.

“It means exactly that! But come to the kitchen when the last guest has left. I have gifts for you and your wolf-man that I cannot give you here. I promise the two of you a story, and a -. Wait, you there – take this!”

She dashed away from Stiles and Derek, cornering a steward to insist he take the Queen the dessert she’d been carrying the whole time, a robust many-layered pastry crowned with scented forest leaves.

“A story and a…?” Derek asked, nervously happy to be married, terrified to be a prince, and grateful for Stiles on his arm.

“And a spoon to lick,” Stiles said hopefully.

Chief Minister Arianell smiled at them, broadly, from across the courtyard.

“Why is Minister Arianell so happy? He hates us,” Derek asked.

“I told him to be nice today, but you’re right - that’s unsettling, especially from him,” Stiles agreed.

***

At last, the castle was dark and quiet as the hour shifted past midnight. All the ceremony had faded away, to Derek’s immense relief.

The rich, dense midsummer air in the courtyard, laden with scents of the far-off forest turned cooler at last. The lively music and dances had run long under sparkling lights, until none but the prince and his wolf-man were left swaying in each other’s arms. Vast platters of golden dishes heaped high with desserts - all were empty now but for one small golden plate left untouched at the Queen’s seat.

***

Cook heard footsteps in her kitchen and turned.

“Are you here for more desserts-?” she asked, cutting herself off abruptly.

“Hello, cook.”

“Minister Arianell,” she said, bowing deeply to hide her surprise.

“The prince and his … choice are still celebrating, but the Queen-”

“-was not at the head table when we served dessert - would you take it up to her? I am buried under dirty dishes and the staff are dancing, or dallying, I fear.”

Minister Arianell did not enjoy interruption or impositions.

“The Queen had no stomach for their … ceremony, and going against her will, and her faith, bringing this new shame into the heart of our royal castle – will not end well for the Prince or his pet. Or those who embrace him."

Open threats? What has changed?

“Minister, I must wash these dishes or you’ll be eating straight from the soup cauldron tomorrow. Consider our Queen, who very much needs this small dessert; you do not know her as well as I.”

“Insolent-!” he sputtered.

Cook's insolence worked better than planned, deflecting Arianell from his threats before he realized how much he’d revealed, but also provoking him to attempt dark magic to control her. She wondered how best to pretend it had worked, and settled on the most obvious. She curtsied, smiled, and began rinsing dishes in the sink, even as she shivered with fear and anger.

You dare use your forbidden magic on me? Do you dare bewitch the Queen herself?

Present Danger

Prince Stiles and Prince Consort Derek, first betrothed in frosty winter and now married in blazing summer, sat hip-to-hip at a wooden table in the castle's kitchen. Across from them sat Cook, who had promised them each a story as their wedding gift, having little else to give beyond her wisdom.

She was most likely a witch of some sort, Stiles felt, but definitely a cook of the highest skill. Both Stiles and Derek suspected she had manipulated events during their courtship to bring them together, but could prove nothing. None of her staff dared answer questions about her, even when their beloved Prince Stiles was asking. Stiles’ mother, the Queen, now in deep seclusion, was not here to explain who this old woman truly was. Nor would she have; that was private.

Cook began her story without offering them so much as a drink.

“Once there were two young men, the one I watched grow and one from the forest. They had done all the right things. Nevertheless, I counsel them to leave the castle, travel deep into the forest together, and search for magic….” She paused, sensing impatience. “Yet here they sit before me just trying to get another helping of dessert! Out with you - it's already late.”

“You promised us a story!” Derek protested.

“And that implies dessert,” Stiles added. Teamwork feels good.

“It does imply a taste of the miracles you prepare here,” Derek offered instead.

“Flatterer. I did marry well,” Stiles said for Derek’s ears alone.

“Humph. Implied dessert,” Cook tutted. “Never heard of such a thing. Not one of my desserts, certainly.”

“Please counsel us then, if you won’t share a story,” Derek asked. “The kingdom likes even less the wolf-man who marries their future king.”

“How do we rule well?” Stiles clarified.

“Why do they fear you?” the old woman asked Derek directly.

“I can change myself from wolf to man.”

“And halfway, that’s my favorite,” Stiles interjected, unable to contain himself; the old woman ignored the Prince.

“You change how they see you by changing how you see yourself,” the old woman continued, “and that terrifies them. They recall a long-forgotten human magic that wolves have never lost. If you want to succeed,” and here she turned to Stiles, “you must find the edge of the forest and three gifts that await you.”

“We are at the forest’s edge now - I see the Scar from my window every day,” Stiles replied.

“The forest is vast, but if you go far enough, deep enough, you’ll discover happiness to fill your hearts, knowledge to guide your hearts and rule justly, and magic to open hearts and sustain your kingdom.”

“And a dessert that will sustain me?” Stiles asked hopefully.

The old woman looked at him with such eyes that his hunger hid itself away.

“You cannot rule if you are unhappy, despite your mother’s example. You cannot rule if you do not know how people rule themselves, and you cannot right wrongs if you do not first unbind your heart.”

"You do have more desserts?" Stiles asked softly.

Cook said simply, “One piece of cake... your mother’s.”

Stiles’ face fell at the reminder she’d missed all three days of celebration.

“Leave now, travel until the new moon, then return by the time it is full again. Bring back the three gifts and you will both rule well.”

***

“For kitchen staff, Cook seems… very involved.”

“She’s been here all my life and hasn’t aged; I think she's a witch. … Mother is not taking this well; let's give her some time on her own to think.”

“How quickly can you prepare for a month’s journey? Tonight’s the full moon," Derek noted.

***

Stiles and Derek left the castle the next night without good-byes, ignoring the protests of the prince’s guards. Derek’s eyes flashed, just once, but the guard hesitated.

As they rode off, Stiles said, “I need to talk to my guards about not flinching around you.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“I did, but they’re our guards now.”

A short silence fell as Stiles gathered his next words.

“The wedding was rough; no happy, welcoming family here, and now more danger.”

Derek brought their horses together immediately and reached across for Stiles’ hand.

“I have a man who loves me.”

“Lucky man.”

“And your mother is no worse than my father was. He cursed me.”

Stiles smiled briefly, but it faded. What curse is she under?

***

Crossing the border liberated them. Stiles felt certain the Scar was beginning to recover after so many years - or was he imagining it all? He barely blinked when Derek spoke to wolves along the way, but then he looked back once too often and saw only trees. The forest had engulfed him.

A Gift Unseen is Glimpsed

The forest stretched and stretched, growing tall and lush over mountains and along rivers, and still they traveled. Gifts awaited them, Cook had said, but nothing appeared for nearly a fortnight. The forest grew so dense it closed in on them and the paths ended. Leaving their horses behind, they walked on - a slow and arduous journey torn through vines, always so very green. They rested in the heat of the day, Stiles hungry and Derek impatient.

***

Stiles woke in the same conditions he’d dozed off in – propped against a vast tree trunk, the calm but continuously noisy forest extending for weeks in every direction – only this time, Derek’s fingers were sliding sensuously up and down his forearm. It quickly became urgent, peeved tapping.

“Yes, my prince.”

Stiles opened his eyes once again to the green world - so many shades he never knew existed. He thought weeks traversing the forest would have exhausted his ability to even see the color green but it persisted, faceting into ever new shades and hues on every branch and vine and leaf, in every direction.

Derek’s fingertips were back again, now turning his chin to the right, jabbing toward a fern-covered fallen tree not three feet away. The tiniest sandy-brown rabbit sat atop the log, nose twitching. It washed an ear, then a wee foot, and was in every way more charming than Stiles’ prince. It could only have been more adorable if it had a jaunty traveling cloak and tiny walking stick, and that at least would have pre-empted Stiles’ next words.

“Is that dinner?” he asked, and his stomach growled approvingly.

The look he got from Derek was somewhere between shocked horror and angry disbelief – the eyebrows were angled to emphasize both of those moods.

“NO!” Derek whispered fiercely.

“Could it be?”

***

The ensuing squabble, complete with accusations of "anti-wolf assumptions" and Stiles’ own very limp defense and pitiful claims of hunger left them in a silent forest. By the time they paused, the bunny had fled, the birds had flown, and even the breeze held off.

“I’m sorry, your royal highness, I didn’t mean to offend,” Derek offered, but Stiles wanted no apology.

“It’s just – I am very hungry and we haven’t eaten anything in a long while and I did think wolves… ate small animals."

“With our long, razor-sharp, blood-drenched fangs.”

“All right, mushrooms and fruit again?”

“I would need several dozen rabbits of that size. I would prefer a large deer and believe you would as well. Perhaps served with mushrooms and fruit if you haven’t tired; they are plentiful and varied.”

Stiles listened without interrupting as Derek expertly smoothed every one of his sharp corners, wondering how he’d ever come to deserve this man as his own. He smiled.

“This is not the happiness Cook spoke of,” Derek said, sensing Stiles' emotional lift.

“It is happiness, though.”

***

“Happiness is deep and permanent,” Derek said after long thought.

“I have my handsome wolf-prince by my side, no one else around for miles, my mother is even farther from our affairs,... and we're in this vibrant wilderness.”

“It’s only a wilderness to YOU; I grew up here.”

“Fair. Teach me more about these trees so it becomes my home too.”

With that gift of companionship and genuine interest, Derek’s heart and head understood that happiness could be a little thing too, not always beyond his reach.

Derek considered it his great good fortune to at last be out of the clutches of his greedy relatives, his new mother-in-law the Queen, and her closest ministers, who most definitely hated him. He’d been chosen above all others to be the prince of the human kingdom and the wolves in it.

'Prince consort' counted for little at the castle and less out here, when his wolf allies were ten days’ journey behind them, and meant nothing to any people they’d met, which suited Derek. Stiles was a mild curiosity – farther into the forest than any human in centuries, and yet he smelled of Derek – a “pack of two”, one wolf had said in the unkindest, most pitying tone.

***

“We’re pretty good at finding gifts. We found one already ,” Stiles said proudly.

“I will show you another miracle when the sun is down,” Derek offered.

“What will it be? Stars to guide us? Night birds? Please no more things under logs.”

“Patience. We’ll eat and then you will learn more. Wait here – I'll get dinner.”

Derek slipped off under towering, head-high bracken ferns, caught the scent of a bison-like creature and shifted fully to run as a wolf. He could hear Stiles far behind him clacking rocks together in a valiant attempt to start the fire.

As he closed on the yakka, it lumbered off, then trotted fast for an open area of forest. Derek was nearly on it when the sound of bow-strings thrummed and arrows whooshed past his head, deep into the yakka’s neck. Derek had to skid into a tree trunk to stop himself.

“Sorry, wolf. This is our kill,” said a voice behind him.

A Gift Unknown is Learned

Derek returned to Stiles’ pitiful flicker of a camp fire with surprisingly little noise considering his speed.

“Stiles, behind me! We aren’t alone.”

“What? Who?” Stiles had a hand on his sword in seconds.

“Two wolves, women, and a human man. Hunters.”

Stiles could hear the strangers approaching, chatting calmly in a strongly accented version of his language. They emerged from the undergrowth, bows and arrows slung across their backs, and stood looking at him with mild interest. True, he had no silvered robes, no shining circlet on his head, but they seemed … very unimpressed.

The tall woman in front didn’t smile, but introduced herself as “Miha”. Behind Miha were another tall woman and a shorter balding man with bright eyes. They kindly waved and introduced themselves as Louen and Leel.

Stiles, behind Derek but to one side now so as not to appear to be cowering, said “I am Stiles, son of Queen Claudia.”

Miha spoke first.

“You are a ... king?” The word dripped with wonder and disbelief.

“I- Prince Stiles, yes. This is my prince consort, Derek Hale.”

“A prince too? Really? Who chose you?”

The second woman, Louen, had asked that question.

The man beside her explained, “Lovey, no one chose him; he’s a royal. He rules because he says so, because he always has.”

“I’m not entirely king yet..,," Stiles said, confused. "We are here to learn the extent of this forest.”

The trio now looked just as puzzled.

“The trees run that way to the sea, another week’s journey,” Leel replied, pointing behind from where they’d come. “And we’ve not found the end in any other direction, but we don’t wander far.”

***

“And you?” asked Miha. “Where do you two come from to find our forest so interesting, and wolves not worthy of equal status?”

“I beg your pardon?” Stiles asked, fully lost.

“We come from the south-east,” Derek offered. “Just past the edge of the forest.”

“My good gods,” said Louen, tensing up. Her voice was tinged with pity and fear.

Derek sensed her worry, even as she stood strong and tried to mask it.

“We’ve never met people from your-” she said.

“You wolves and humans live ... closely here?” Stiles asked.

“Can’t live without them,” Leel laughed, gesturing at Louen beside him. "She's my wife."

Stiles asked “Who rules here?” and they were again puzzled.

“We do. We - all of us,” Louen answered.

“Is it true? The Crown Fire?” Leel seemed particularly keen to know this.

“What?” said Stiles, and in the same instant came a clear “Yes” from Derek.

“Derek, do they mean the fire that burned the Scar-”

“Yes.”

“That was a mistake-” Stiles tried to explain.

“Did you kill all the wolves?” Leel asked.

“Well clearly not, Leel, he’s married one of them,” said Louen. “'Mistake', though” she said, turning the word back at Stiles. “That’s a killer’s word for genocide.”

Stiles’ face burned with guilt. Derek moved to stand by him, whispering in his ear as he ran his hand up and down Stiles’ back.

“This is the second gift,” he said quietly in Stiles’ ear.

“She said ‘knowledge’,” Stiles whispered back. “This doesn’t feel like a gift.”

Leel bowed suddenly, which caught everyone off guard. Still bent over, he prayed: “We remember the gods and their kindness to travelers, and share our meal with you,” then stood straight and added, “Your clawed partner here chased a very large yakka toward us and it is far more than we can eat.”

Stiles looked at the three strangers in front of him, his first diplomatic incident, and invited them to share the sad fire and what little food they had left.

“May I?” Leel asked Stiles, pointing at the meager fire.

“Yes?”

Leel gestured quickly with a swoop of his fingers and the fire sizzled to life in response, warm and bright.

A memory came to Stiles, of a woman making that exact gesture over the fire grate in his bedroom as the flames sprang up and warmed him.

“Human magic…” was all Derek got out, barely a whisper.

“Can you all do that?” Stiles asked, pointing at the lively fire.

“Can you not?” Miha asked in return.

“We’ve … forgotten a lot of what we once knew,” Stiles admitted.

“We came here looking for magic to rule our kingdom,” Derek added.

“To change how people see us,” Stiles explained.

Stiles missed it but Miha and the other two had already reacted – Miha stepped back, Leel toward his bow, Louen moving in front of him. Derek caught it all.

“It changes how we see ourselves,” Derek corrected, and that calmed things immediately.

Miha remained alert but Leel smiled broadly and laughed a nervous laugh before asking, "Arun-na, you mean? You’re not going to find that in the forest. You find it in yourself. Use the…” and here he motioned to his chest, far too quickly for Stiles to repeat the spell.

“You haven’t completed arun-na?” Miha asked.

“And you’re married?” Louen asked a second later, incredulous.

Miha asked bluntly: “Can you do any magic at all, prince?”

“Not that I know of, but… we were counseled to come deep into the forest to find it.”

“You are odd,” Miha concluded. “And we are all hungry.”

***

Derek sat at Stiles’ side but spoke with the two wolf-women. Stiles kept up his conversation with Leel as they cooked the meat.

“Wolves can’t show you – it’s not their magic,” Leel explained. “Their hearts are already unbound."

Leel took Stiles’ hands and positioned them in front of his chest, palms in, then tugged them apart, a more complex version of the gesture he’d made earlier.

“And then?”

“And then you … well, I can’t say as I’ve ever tried to explain it. I was four when I did it and that was a long time back. You let the heart open. You'll know it when you feel it. Sort of a … drop and then a float, and then it’s done. It’s easy but not easy, you know what I mean?”

“A drop and a float,” Stiles said, dispirited. “We may never find that third gift, Derek.”

***

We’re glad to have met you,” Miha admitted after an hour of food and conversation. “You seem like a leader who can find a new path for your wolves and for your own kind. It won’t be easy, or quick, unless they lose patience and kill you both for being so naive.”

“They won’t kill him,” Derek stated. "The wolves near the castle have their own ways of governing themselves and show respect to the throne.”

“They do?” Stiles asked, shocked, making Miha snicker.

“They trade and tithe but stay clear of humans. Most of what you think you see – the deference, that’s for show,” Derek explained.

“So they don’t want me as king.”

“Wolves respect good leaders,” Miha said carefully. “No one needs to be a king.”

***

When the hunters left, Stiles burst with questions, but each seemed to bring more questions and the information overwhelmed him.

Derek finally said, sensing Stiles’ frustration, “We’ve found happiness and knowledge.”

“Knowledge that a royal family is unnecessary.”

“I recall you saying you would ‘give it all up’ to be with me,” Derek teased. “What if you give it all up and a stronger, closer kingdom grows as well? Many scars need to heal, not just from the fire.”

Stiles’ head was spinning and wouldn’t stop. He wanted out, and found only shadows tangled among the trees in every direction.

“Let me show you something you can learn about this forest,” Derek said, taking his hand to calm the tremors he could hear in Stiles’ breath. “Kneel here, next to me; lay your head on my leg. Look up under the edge of this log.”

“Nothing more under logs! It’s always disgusting, it’s-”

Stiles paused as his head touched Derek’s warm thigh and he was silent for a full minute. Derek looked down at Stiles’ sideways face, and brushed his hair gently from his eyes. They were wide, pupils huge and dark in the twilight, and they glistened, so strong was his emotion.

“They’re … aglow! It’s so beautiful! How are they glowing? What are they?”

“Worms, hungry for dinner, like you.”

“Their pale purple light is so… beautiful.”

“They’ll glow all night long.”

"And I'll watch them all night long. I can’t stop staring. Why don’t we have these in our forest?”

“We do, only very few – the trees they live on were badly burned in the fire. They will be gone soon.”

A Gift Untested is Tried

Derek and Stiles continued on through the expansive forest for nearly another week. From a high point, they’d seen nothing but greenery to the horizons north and south. Finally, they reached the coast and saw an ocean for the first time. They stayed two days by the water, standing knee-deep in the surf for hours.

“Mother will never believe this,” Stiles said softly.

***

With two weeks to the full moon, they finally turned homeward, unsure how the third gift might appear.

Derek was lost in his own thoughts, worried about the unwelcoming welcome he would face when they returned after so long away. People would see a wolf was indeed ruling them.

“How did Leel make the fire grow? Was that magic?” Stiles asked.

“Human magic is long gone - I thought. Hasn’t been seen in decades,” and he left out “especially since your mother outlawed what was left,” but Stiles surprised him here.

“I saw my mother make that fire gesture, in my room, by the fireplace. I must have been three or so.”

Derek stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Before she began following her ministers’ religion?”

“Around then.”

“She has always been so virulently anti-magic. It’s why she hates wolves.” Derek said softly.

“Can you start a fire?” Stiles asked him.

“Our magic is not yours. We work with the forest itself, the plants and trees. Human magic is internal. Some humans could do a kind of mental magic, but that was forbidden long ago as mind control. Leel transferred energy."

“What is ‘arunna’?”

“Aru mna, in our dialect. The Blessing. ‘Aru shuf, aru mna’ means ‘All dies, all regrows’.

Stiles thought for a long while, then returned to himself again.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“What have you tried?"

Stiles simply shook his head and looked down at his hands then up at Derek’s waiting eyes.

“What can my wolf-man do?” he asked, taking Derek’s face with both palms.

“Shifting is ... our nature. I can't say it's magic... We can shape the trees to enhance their magic. Many things in the forest lend themselves to our magic.”

“Was there a spell on the tree you sent to the castle?”

Derek nodded slowly. “In the runes carved along its length.”

“To make me fall in love with you?”

“Deeper in love, you mean?" Derek teased. “No. To counter fear and ensure the tree was taken inside so you would see it. The sap in some trees carries energy, fruits and berries have great power - some can bend fate, very slightly, enough. Magic seeks growth.”

“Rainberries?”

“Wolves just call them berries.” Derek told the story of their magic, repeating what he’d heard from other forest wolves and from his mother before she died. “They can grant wishes, I hear, if prepared correctly,” he ended with a flourish in his voice.

“That’s impossible," Stiles argued.

“I am man and wolf. Many things are possible, not only what you know. The rainberries, though, are more of a legend.”

“Like those ones?” Stiles pointed at a small cluster of dull red berries on a nearby bush, overlooked since the winter snow and now shriveled in summer heat.

“How are they even still here?” Derek marveled. He went and plucked them, and returned to kneel opposite Stiles.

“Cook made me choose the desserts for the betrothal ceremony. I chose wrong twice and then I saw these-”

“In the chocolate bowl…” said Derek, remembering the same day.

“I chose them because they were what my most important guest would want. They reminded me of your forest. This forest.”

“And I ate them.”

“That’s courtesy, consideration, care. Not magic,” Stiles insisted.

“Wolves remember courtesy, and return care. Magic is always reciprocal.”

“I have a wish.”

“They’re not wishing berries, Stiles.”

“But will they work as before if I make the right choice again?”

Stiles held the cluster of berries in his hand as he knelt there looking at Derek’s skeptical face.

“If my mother had magic, then I have it. You and I both have some,” he reasoned.

“What are you planning now?” Derek asked, rightly concerned.

“I want you to be welcomed and loved by my kingdom and by yours," Stiles said. "I cannot rule a land that hates you or me.”

“You'll have to rule regardless.”

“I want more!” Stiles blurted out.

“Very human of you.”

There was solid certainty in Stiles’ voice, a steely belief that he could change an entire kingdom’s history.

***

Stiles concentrated on his hands again, as if the magic would spring up on its own.

“Will it sparkle or something?” Stiles asked, looking up again.

Derek slid his large hands under Stiles’ long fingers.

“Show me the wolf-man I fell in love with," Stiles continued. "He never came to our wedding.”

Derek hesitated, but there was only hope in Stiles’ face, and love. Derek shifted, slowly, showing neither man nor wolf but both, and Stiles’ grin stretched wider. Derek’s claws slid from his fingertips but Stiles didn’t flinch.

“I want you safe and welcome and loved, and that means my kingdom has to change. I wish for that. I want to bend fate in that direction.”

“Magic is mutual – I want you safe and welcome and loved, Stiles. Show me the prince I fell in love with, who risked everything for us.”

Derek’s fingers tingled, or was it just pain from his claws bursting out?

“Arunna-” Stiles tried.

“Aru shuf, aru mna,” Derek said carefully.

“Aru shuf, aru mna,” Stiles repeated in a shockingly good forest-wolf accent, and felt the tightness in his chest un-knotting itself into loose ribbons.

***

“Magic,” Stiles breathed quietly, looking down at his hands.

The berries were still few, but not old, not anymore. They’d become fresh and ripe as if the snow had just fallen on them, tiny brilliant red jewels glinting in the last beams of sunlight, well past their season.

“I didn’t – I can’t do that!” Derek said softly. “That’s not human magic either. You’d need-”

“Both,” Stiles finished his thought.

Whether wolf magic, Stiles’ own undiscovered talents, or some alchemy between them, mattered little. They ate a few of the berries, and slept on the soft needles of their faraway forest.

***

In the night, terrors came. Derek woke first, unsure why, and rose to pace around the clearing.

Danger. So close....

He turned back to look at Stiles and saw what he’d seen twice before – the faintest outline of a huge blacker-than-black wolf, a wolf-shaped hole in the air – his father.

“You can’t be-”

The wolf turned on him and he woke, next to Stiles, flailing his arms to fight off the fangs. There was no wolf, only Stiles’ worried arms enfolding him.

“It was a nightmare,” Derek said.

“I saw it too.”

***

Fear accompanied them home over each new hill, lurking in the hollows of trees or in the windy canopy above. The forest became what stories had told Stiles it was - boundless, dark, and not his world.

As they passed back into mapped wolf-lands among the towering trees Derek knew best, they met two wolf-men who’d given Derek work when he'd fled the kingdom. They asked him so many questions, none of them kind, about the Queen’s cruel new laws.

“We have been beyond the forest to the shore of the ocean; we’ve heard nothing of this,” Derek explained.

“The Queen wouldn’t-” Stiles interrupted.

“Were you asked?” snapped the taller wolf-man.

“I am the Prince!”

“Not this far out – and your mother would – she has banned wolves from the castle. She’ll drive us from the forest soon enough. Or burn us again.”

"She’ll let us in, Derek.”

“Don’t go any further, Hale. You were foolish enough to spend six months carving a wedding pole for this one, but you won’t survive his castle again; not even marriage will save you, not with that cult in control.”

The mood between Stiles and Derek soured, no matter what Stiles did. Happiness seemed lost, and knowledge useless. Magic did not show itself again; they returned, so they thought, with no gifts at all.

Only Half the Story

As they neared the border and crossed into the Scar, they heard troubling rumors of a coup. The Queen was the focus of most whispers, wilder at each place they rested. One pack they passed was fleeing the kingdom to seek refuge far away. The village nearest the castle buzzed with news of the ministers behind it all, and the Queen - unseen for weeks despite her edicts.

Stiles gathered information while Derek kept a low profile at their lodgings. Stiles was not easily recognized with his new beard and smelling more and more like the man he spent his days and nights with. Had he been Prince Stiles, the wolf-man at the bar might not have dared say “Our so-called 'Prince' Derek is a shit of a sellout!” quite so loudly.

Ignoring the cheer that went up from most of the people gathered at the bar, Stiles swung first and was jumped by five wolves and dragged outside. The instant they smelled human blood though, they fled, leaving Stiles on his hands and knees in the dirt, bleeding from his nose and lip.

“Go home, spy!” said one wolf-man in the crowd, and others picked up the chant.

***

“She wouldn’t do this! Not after- after she liked you. She knows you,” Stiles argued, but nothing made sense.

“People don’t change quickly,” Derek muttered, cleaning the blood from Stiles' face.

“They do! They can. She was changing. She had doubts about her faith, wanted to bring back some of the old beliefs. This isn’t her. The ministers, Arianell more than any – this is his hatred.”

“Wolves cannot trust her.”

“I do. I have to. She’s - conservative, prejudiced, driven by fear, yes. Okay, I see your point. But she’s not an evil queen, she's my mother.”

“I do not trust here.”

***

They entered the castle that night with no fanfare and oddly, no delays. Stiles’ guards were gone. Derek’s hair rose up on his neck, but the threat didn’t reveal itself.

When they’d passed the main doors, a shadow detached itself from the darkness beyond the torchlight and moved silently into the castle doorway behind them.

Derek, in a dark cloak, wanted only to stay hidden for now, but Stiles’ hunger couldn’t hide for more than a minute once he smelled the aromas wafting up from the dining hall. Stiles tiptoed as silently as Stiles ever could into the kitchen; he quickly hit a table in the now-dark room, making all the dishware clatter and clank.

“Where would she put the dessert tray?” he said softly to Derek, and to himself, “I missed the honeycakes.”

“They’re in the icebox,” came a voice.

Stiles jumped an inch in the air and spun around to face the old woman.

“And what’s wrong with making tea first?” Cook asked.

“Why are you sneaking- I’ll be dead by tomorrow if you scare me like that again!”

"This is my kitchen, for over twenty years, since you were born. And you will be dead in any case.”

“You knew my mother back then? Why didn’t she come to our celebrations?", Stiles asked, then paused. "Wait, what did you just say?”

Maybe there is hope for him after all, Cook thought. He needs just a nudge.

***

She lit a single lamp and served him two honeycakes, not just one. She had made a traditional batch very dangerous to wolves, but only well after the wedding and she kept it locked away. Stiles loved the wine-soaked currants in her human version.

“Join us, wolf-man,” she said quietly. “I made honeycakes that you can safely eat as well.”

Derek emerged from the doorway where he’d hung back.

“I also told Arianell you'd left for six weeks,” Cook added. "He won’t expect you back as long as you weren’t seen coming home. You can still get away before they-”.

“I know what a coup is,” Stiles said quietly.

“The Queen has not always been so,” Cook said after a moment. “She’s not making the decisions.”

“My mother’s been weak, despite saying her faith gives her strength,” Stiles countered.

“Let me tell you one more story; whether you believe it is up to you.”

Stiles shoved an overlarge bite of honeycake into his mouth. A tear streaked his cheek under warm brown eyes, his mother’s eyes.

Derek settled around Stiles, adjusting himself endlessly until he could rest his face in the space between Stiles’ shoulder blades. It calmed them both, and Cook smiled to see it.

***

“The Queen was deep in the forest-” she began.

“My mother was in the forest?”

“-speaking with the leader of the wolves.”

“That’s not possible,” Stiles blurted.

“Shhh!” Derek said from behind him.

“Stick another honeycake in your mouth, and remember what I said: Belief is up to you.”

Stiles complied, happily.

“The Queen was deep in the forest, speaking with the leader of the wolves, when I…"

She paused, eyes cast down.

“I didn’t see her for many years,” Cook continued. “She was distrustful of wolves, even then, despite knowing I lived with them.”

Stiles resisted the urge to cut in and ask questions; every sentence brought a new mystery to solve.

“When I was able to leave the forest and come here, the new religion was already gaining many followers, and she saw it as a way to rule this divided land well. You yourself had that same question a month ago on your wedding day, and I suspect you still do,” Cook added.

Stiles nodded.

"The cult fed her lies, mirrored her fears, isolated her from everyone she loved…. She turned away from me, and soon after, laws changed; new edicts each week drove wolves further from humans, just like now. I thought I could help her, but now I ... I cook here.”

“The ministers who steer her see no humanity in wolves. They hate Derek because he can transform,” Stiles added.

Derek nuzzled into his back to calm him.

“The worst imaginable act for their closed hearts is to say you are one thing when they see another,” Cook said. “It feeds a mania, a disjointed disease of the spirit.”

She paused, pain rising, then continued.

“The Crown Fire burned away my hopes for a long while. Queen Claudia scorched half her kingdom, driving wolves so far away we had no trade for a decade, no word from them. She called it victory. I believed she couldn't open her heart; that made her able to truly harm others. Beyond the border and beyond the Scar, the forest lives on, as you have seen, but the Queen in her delusion and fear of wolves committed such a very terrible crime that night-”.

“Mother ordered the Fire? Herself? All those tutors and ministers claiming to help me, to educate me but instead lying…”

The old woman huffed out her sadness and anger, hands clasping at her own wrists, head hanging low. She controlled her breathing and said only, “Apologies, my prince. It is not my place to accuse our Queen.”

Derek, head still pressed to Stiles' back, spoke now for himself: “I was a boy when my family was driven out of the kingdom by the Fire. Father died in it. A year later, the wolves’ forest was half gone …." He raised his head to take a deep breath.

Cook touched Stiles’ cheek gently, then Derek’s, saying “We cannot fail those we love," and for a moment, Derek recalled his mother's touch.

"The wolves lost thousands," Cook went on,"and a hundred times as many trees – the sky turned to night, lit only from below for a week. You, Prince, barely three, nearly perished from the smoke.”

Stiles took the old woman’s hand and pressed it softly to his mouth.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Your truth is a gift worth more than your desserts and that is my highest praise.”

“Repay me with a truth of your own,” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Tell me the three gifts you found.”

“We found happiness,” Derek began.

“Clearly,” she smiled. “The gift you gave each other.”

“We met hunters - two wolves and a man married to one of them. Far from here.”

“And their gift?” Cook asked.

“To know that not every person lives in my kingdom. Or under a king or queen. They rule themselves.”

“A gift of wisdom given to you by others,” Cook said. “Be that as it may, we have a more pressing issue than models of government. Your mother is in grave danger and so are you both. I will not see any of you harmed further.”

“You care for her.”

“For twenty-odd years, since she first asked me to feed you, even as she spoke of ever-narrower ideals, and picked ministers who controlled her mind. I stayed to feed you and to feed her the truth when they would not, but I failed.”

“Why did you send us away then?”

“Did you find the third gift?” she asked, evading his question.

“We aren't sure what happened that day...,” Stiles said.

She stared intently at him. “Tell me. Slowly and carefully.”

“We found rainberries that had hung on the bush too long. I wished for safety, and welcome, and love, for Derek’s sake, and we both felt this-”

“In my hands.” Derek said, head raised now.

“In my chest, I can’t describe it. The berries were ripe and fresh again! Was that Derek’s wolf magic?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Cook said. “Wolves are not that skilled. But humans alone have no great skill with nature either."

“Do we still have our happiness? I think the knowledge just hurts more and more,” Derek said quietly.

“And no third gift," Stiles added. "Leel helped me try to open my heart, but nothing happened.”

Cook sat up straight.

“Nothing? Think, Prince. What can that mean? One, you have no magic. Untrue – the berries. Or two, your heart was already unbound. Your mother showed you that magic years ago as a child, one of the last good things she did before converting and you... you must have opened your heart already. You built your gift together. This is news!”

“Is my mother’s heart still closed?” Stiles asked gently, fearing the answer.

“That remains to be seen,” was all Cook could say. “I sent you to become a better ruler than your mother and a better partner than her King. And because wolves always helped me. Arianell would have harmed you both if you’d stayed and he will try again now, if he finds you. You must stay in the village or beyond the Scar. Your marriage has lit a fuse that will require a near limitless amount of love to put out."

“This is my home. I won’t leave my mother undefended.”

“I can take you out the secret door, Prince. But if you will stay, find a room that is not yours, and keep silent, no lights," Cook said. "Take food with you now. I will find you."

“We can stay at the end of the hall by the window, a guest room. I’ll be there soon," Stiles said as Derek left the safety of his shoulders and Stiles felt cold for the first time in a long while.

Derek went unwillingly, but Cook said she needed time to think. Stiles and the old woman talked briefly of the far ocean shore; he tried to explain how the water foamed and surged around their legs and even knocked Derek down. When he'd washed her dishes, he bowed to her and left her alone in the kitchen to rejoin his wolf-man.

Coup Fourré

Stiles made it halfway back to Derek before he was struck hard on the head in the dim hallway.

As darkness took him fully, he heard one command, not possible

notpossible

“Bind. The wolf. To heel."

END