Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Not many remembered but Peter used to love Christmas.
Before his coma (before his family’s death, his niece’s abandonment, his failure to protect his pack), Peter used to spend days in the kitchen with his aunts cooking for Christmas dinner, singing Christmas carol all over the house; especially his favorite “ Twelves days of Christmas” which would make him secretly dream of finding a lover who would go so far as to find such gifts for him.
He would spend full afternoons watching Hallmarks movies and drinking eggnog with Laura under cozy blankets his grandmother had made years ago, smirking to the fond eyerolls of his sister who would be looking at them with love in her eyes and smiles on her lips. He would dress up as Santa for the delight of little Cora, to the sound of a giggling Derek who knew it was his (favorite) uncle under the fake plastic beard.

Peter would now spend Christmas away from the last living members of his family (no longer pack).
Cora had grown up away from their tragic lives and would be in South America with her own pack.
Derek would run away to New York (again) for the end of year's time and it never crossed Peter’s mind to ask him to stay. Their bond had broken long ago, burned to ashes by betrayal (you killed my sister / you left me in agonizing pain for years in an unsafe territory) and guilt (I let a hunter use me to kill you all / I wasn’t able to protect you from a sex predator who used you to kill us all). Peter would rather be alone than to be with someone he couldn’t trust anymore, he was content enough and that would suffice. .He didn’t believe in Christmas no longer and as the villain he was - if you were willing to listen to a word from Scotty boy and his lapdogs (Stiles excluded from that moniker, that boy was more wolf than anyone in the McCall pack) - he was too naughty to be on Santa’s list.
Peter would sometimes still hum under his breath “Twelve days of Christmas” with unconscious fondness but that was all the Christmas spirit left within him.

Not many knew but Stiles loved Christmas.
Growing up in a Polish family with strong catholic roots, Christmas time had always been magical and full of love.
He would spend days in the kitchen with his mom cooking the 12 dishes traditional for Christmas Eve, the house smelling of gingerbread and citruses, singing Christmas carol all over the house; especially his mom’s favorite “ Twelves days of Christmas” which would make him secretly dream of finding a love like their parents shared, with a gift each day.
He would spend full afternoons watching Hallmarks movies and drinking hot chocolate with his Mama under cozy blankets his grandmother had made years ago and that had traveled with his mother through time and distance, she would be smirking to the fond eyerolls of his father who would be looking at them with love in his eyes and smiles on his lips. His dad would dress up as Santa at the precinct for little Stiles’s delight, to the sound of giggling deputies who knew full well it was their coworker under the fake plastic beard.

His Mama had died after slowly losing herself to the demons in her head while his father had lost himself to the bottom of a bottle after her departure.
There no longer was Christmas trees nor scent of lemons, tangerines and oranges inside the Stilinskis house but Stiles kept in his heart the “Twelve days of Christmas” and hoped to find someone to share it with, just like his parents had.

Chapter Text

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me A partridge in a pear tree.

It all started at a regular Pack meeting.
More precisely, it started at what was supposed to be a regular pack meeting.
Once a month, everyone would meet at the loft to discuss, plan and report on what was going on in Beacon Hills.

Everyone would meet a the loft to gossip, watch movies and make a puppy pile, Derek would be brooding on the stairs, Peter would be reading a book so obscure no one knew how or why he had acquired it and no one would dare ask beside Stiles who’d banter with the older wolf and end up borrowing the book once Peter was done with it. The two would be spending hours together away from the judgment from the rest of the Pack and meet on research dates whether at coffee shops, restaurants or the werewolf’s house.

( -“A cottage in the forest CreeperWolf, really ? couldn’t you find anything more in the middle of nowhere?” asked Stiles with disbelief.
-“I like my calm and privacy, Little Red. I can make anyone scream if I feel like it and no one would bother me here.” Replied Peter with a smirk and a flick of his claws.
Stiles stared at him for a few seconds and whispered to himself: “I don’t know if I should be horrified or aroused right now…”
Peter left the front door open after entering his house, his back to Stiles. “Let me know once you’ve decided, Darling.” Stiles blushed and followed the wolf inside.)

Stiles was driving Roscoe to the loft singing along to Mariah Carey’s "All I want for Christmas is you" all while thinking about what he would be doing this year for Christmas. His dad had the taken shifts to allow his deputies to spend time with their families (not thinking about the son he was leaving on is own), Scott was going to his father in DC this year in another try to erase all the christmases he had just been a christmas card in the mail and Melissa had taken a graveyard shift in order to not forget she was spending Christmas without her son.
Derek had left for NewYork and Lydia had left with her parents for the Bahamas.
Only Peter and Stiles would be there for this pack meeting but they had decided to keep it and spend some time together.
Stiles was trying to gather the courage to ask Peter to spend Christmas with him if he was available. He arrived at the loft and parked before going out of the car and went inside the building, lost in his thoughts.
He entered the loft and was surprised for a second as it seemed to be empty. He heard a sound coming from the kitchen and followed it quietly.
Peter was at the stove, cooking what smelt like dried fruits,spices and honey while softly singing “Twelve days of Christmas” to himself. He was wearing the apron Stiles had brought and forgotten last time they had planned a pack celebration.
Peter turned around and smirked at the young man.
-"You are a bit early, Darling."
- "What are you cooking ? Whatever it is, it smells amazing, Peter."
Peter’s ears reddened and he replied slightly embarrassed:
- "I am making zupa grzybowa, Kaczka z jabłkami and Piernik Staropolski."
- "Are you making all that by hand ?! That's Like my perfect comfort menu right there !" Stiles interrupted with excitement.
- "I know, Sweetheart." Peter’s smirk softened to a gentle smile that was reserved for the little minx he couldn’t prevent himself from falling for.

For just a breath, the world paused and Stiles felt as if his mom was beside him, a smile on her lips and a hand ruffling his hair the way she used to, encouraging her baby boy to go to his wolf.
It was at this moment that Stiles Knew Peter was the one for him.
He was going to court Peter and he would do it the way the older man deserved;by bringing to reality the improbable, just like finding a partridge in a pear tree.

Chapter Text

After that fateful day, Stiles dove in research to find the perfect courting gifts for his wolf. He wanted them to be meaningful in ways that showcased his understanding and acceptance of all that made the older man as they were two sides of the same coin.

Peter valued Power no matter its shape.
Before the coma, Peter had been the Left Hand of the Hale Pack; in charge of all the dirty and unspeakable works that came with keeping his bonded safe.
The Alpha might be the head of the pack but the Left Hand would hold the heart safe. They would manipulate, threaten, lie, cheat or kill and nothing was below a Left Hand when it came to protect.
They needed power to do so, whether through competency (Jack of all trades, master of none though oftentimes better than master of one - and Peter had already mastered several trades before being out of is teenaged years), Strength (to keep going, no matter what) and knowledge (a thirst to always learn more, from books, from others but more importantly from mistakes so they would not repeat themselves.).
Stiles learned early on that he was the only one he could rely on. He had learned to take care of his father and himself (basic house chores such as cooking and cleaning; lying and charming the Child Protection services each time they were called because of anonymous tips on his father’s drug addiction and potential neglect; deep research spiral due to his unofficially diagnosed ADHD that taught him so many diverse topics from how to restore the most delicate embroideries on antic garments to how to break a human’s mind in ways that no one would ever suspect).
He had needed the strength to keep going forward and just like Peter, Stiles was a survivor.

Peter valued Loyalty which was why he no longer had any bonds with the remaining Hale. He had been betrayed by their abandonment (unconscious for Cora - but abandonment all the same), and nothing would ever repair the broken trust on either side - they were still family but they weren’t Pack.
Stiles valued Loyalty just as badly; it was his loyalty to his mother's memories that kept him in Beacon Hills - his dad had lost him the moment he chose to drown his sorrow in alcohol instead of raising his orphaned son and making said son be the adult in the house at barely 10 years old; Scott had gone too far by working with Gerard and helping the hunter forced against his will Derek to give him the bite. The others never deserved Stiles’s loyalty to begin with.

Most importantly and to no one's knowledge, Peter valued Emotions.
He had been a late pregnancy and his parents were more focused on the Pack than on their latest child. As the saying goes,they were good people but bad parents. Peter had been raised by his grandparents who were traditionalist - the wolf was part of them and it was a duty to all werewolves to follow their instincts no matter how primitive they seemed.
The wolf felt and the human would trust.
Stiles’ Mother had raised him to express his feelings and follow his instincts. He would openly talk about his emotions and do his best to be the safest place for others to do the same, once you got past his snarky mask. He was tactile with the ones he cared for, even more since the start of all the puppy piles he ended up being part of which had helped with the touch-starveness he didn’t realize he was suffering from. The amount of physical affection he showed Peter had increased since his 18th birthday.
On Stiles' birthday, Peter had come by theStilinksis house while the Sheriff was out and while they were discussing the Boy’s plans for the day in the dining room, Peter had pushed toward Stiles a gift.
-”For your birthday, Dear. I hope you won’t find it too childish.”
It had been an original copy from 1862 of “Bajarz polski: Baśni, powieści i gawędy ludowe”, a polish fairytale book which contained his favorite childhood story “królewiczu Niespodzianku” (the Unlooked for Prince).
Stiles had mentioned to Peter that he had fond memories of his mother reading the adventures of Prince Milan and his beloved Hyacinthia. How Little Stiles had been rooting for their love and that he couldn't stop giggling when at the end, the Prince who was suffering from an enchantment that had made him forget his love and who was about to marry another was freed from his curse by two doves flying out of a pie cooked by Hyacinthia and would end up marrying his true love in a perfect happy ending.
Stiles has thrown himself in the wolf arms, tears in his eyes and had hugged him close for a long time during which he had felt Peter shudders and grip, taking comfort in the physical closeness of the only person he would consider being Pack with.

Stiles needed to find something of at least equal sentimental value to his birthday gift for his courting gift to Peter. Reading through his book once again to reset his thoughts, Stiles lingered on the illustration of the dove pie; drawn as a crown on a silver plate from which the two doves would break free.
Stiles breath stuttered. His smile grew wicked as he went back to work with renewed fire in his eyes, his goal now clear in his mind.
It was time to take out the Argentry.

Chapter Text

When Stiles had been about 9 years old, his whole family had gone on a trip back to his grandparents’ home, in a small village south of Chojna in the Northwestern part of Poland,close to the German border. He remembers spending time with his Babcia, getting ready to go to church on Saint Hubertus Day while his Dziadziu, wearing traditional hunting apparel, would round the hunting dogs to bring them to the Blessing of the Hounds that would take place after the service at church. All the village would gather to seek blessings for the upcoming hunting season. They would reflect on the bond between humans and their animal companions while praying for the painless death of the wild game the men would bring back.
Once the hunt was over, all the hunters would gather for pokot: the end of hunt ceremony in which the amount of killed game would be measured, placed on the ground in hierarchical manner; then, bare headed, the hunters would sound their trumpets, paying tribute to each kind of game. New hunters would kneel and go through the entry ceremony by being smeared with animal blood.
Stiles had gotten the first rule of hunting engraved in his mind : Do not cause unnecessary suffering.
The body of the fallen beast should then be treated in a respectful manner, and utilized as fully as possible whether it was by using the entrails to make food, skin and bones to make tools or display the trophies as a mark of respect.

The Argents had long lost sight of the teaching of Saint Hubertus and therefore did not deserve the title of Hunters in Stiles’ eyes. Their code, Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent, was a farce so easy to twist it didn’t have any meaning and would just give bigots a righteous sounding motto to hide behind. Kate, Victoria and Gerard were the true monsters that the humans needed to be kept safe from.

Kate, finding pleasure in manipulating and sexually assaulting underage werewolves (no matter their gender) before killing their whole Packs. The Hales had not been the first nor the last that Kate had played a sick game with; they just had been the only to survive (some days, the remaining hales would wonder if it could be truly said that they did…). On the dawn of the tomorrow of her confrontation with Peter, she had been found by one of her father’s lackeys who had taken her away. Peter had not been able to verify her demise as he had been killed by Derek that same night (fire all over and over and over again, stuck in a hurricane of pain and memories, longing for the peace of death who took mercy on him this once).

Victoria, too prideful to allow her daughter to be happy with the one she loved, just because he was a werewolf; no matter that Scott had been turned against his will and was incapable of willingly hurt anyone (unconsciously though, Scott was a master at hurting other in ways they may never recover from.); going as far as to try to murder a teenage boy who was part of the few the so-called Argent Code urged to spare. She had managed to leave Beacon Hills unscattered in the dead of the night, chased away by her husband who had found Scott before anything could happen. Chris had freed the boy and had given an ultimatum to his ex-wife: leave and never come near Allison and him or face human justice for the kidnapping and attempted murder of her daughter’s boyfriend who happened to be a pseudo son of the local Sheriff.

Gerard, a jury, judge and executioner in the twisted worldview he did his best to spread, like a fatal disease; swinging a broadsword in a parody of the couperet of Justice. A cavalier of the Apocalypse, banishing peace and wroughting upon war through his cruelty and wrath.
Bringing discord and desolation any time possible,one notable instance was when he used the pretense of peace talk to cripple one of the most prominent members of the supernatural community and known pacifist, Deucalion Blackwood. The Argent patriarch had found joy in torturing Stiles in the family basement, asserting power over a (seemingly) defenceless human teenager.
After receiving the bite from an unwilling Derek, Gerard had rejected it as his body had been full of wolfsbane-laced pills. Chris had protected his father from death by sending him to a secret supernatural-aware facility to find a cure to his affliction.

Stiles had worked tirelessly to find out where those three were hiding away and he had performed a true Christmas miracle.
Stiles would need to get his passport ready, he had a plane to catch. Destination ?

Chapter Text

For the first few years after his wife's death, the Sheriff had lost touch with reality and had left Stiles fend for his own. What it meant was that Stiles had to raise himself and David Attenboroughhad been one of his parental figures of sorts. The television had been a constant in the house and Stiles had had a particular fondness for the BBC and National Geographics shows. The soothing voices of the narrators and the matter of fact subject of the documentaries would bring comfort to a young boy who had learned way too young that life wasn’t fair. One of the documentaries had been on raven and the symbiotic relationship they had with wolf packs. The birds would find injured prey and signal their location to the wolf who would then kill the prey animals. Both wolves and ravens would then feast together on the carcasses.

Two contrasting packs had been shown on the screen.
For the first one ,some ravens had been working with wolves but the birds had become part of the hunted prey right after signaling an injured deer. A few days later, a couple of ravens who appeared to be survivors of the group that had been massacred had attacked the wolves and torn off the eyes of the Alpha with their beaks before flying away.
For the second pack, an unkindness of raven had been spending the winter with a pack and Stiles was mesmerized by the 4 small black birds playing with cubs by using sticks, picking at their tails, or flying around them. The wolves were protecting the ravens from other predators. They all seemed so happy together.
One lesson was learned by young Stiles :

Stiles would keep deep in his heart this mantra throughout the years.

Before actually booking their travels across the globe, Stiles still had to actually let Peter know they were both going to France on a last minute trip to crush what seemed to be an unsanctified Christmas party. From what he had heard Chris mention to Peter while they had had a private chat about the three missing Argents ( someone of bad faith would say that Stiles had been eavesdropping on what could have been better described as the wolf threatening the hunter to tell him where he was hiding the golden trio by violently slamming the left behind Argent against a door to then hold him by the throat until he started talking - not so cozy when someone does is to you, right, Chris? - the bruises made by Peter’s hand had taken over a week to even start to fade and Stiles hadn’t seen the point in trying to mask his vicious glee at the Hunter’s suffering, he had sent to Peter a fruit basket with a red bow on top and a handwritten thank you card.), Grandpa psycho and his two harpies (his apologies to the man-eating birdwomen for the offensive comparison) had been sent away to three distinct locations across the globe with strict order to stay away from the supernatural and each others. This decree was to be enforced by pairs of members of the supernatural council (there was a supernatural council?!) and hunters from the Argents mainline; Gerard acting as a patriarch only for the American branch of the family - the true Matriarch of the Argent Empire was actually one of Gerard’s wife’ cousin once-removed and Angeline Argent was ruling the French line with an iron hand in a velvet glove from her cozy little house back in Gevaudan, France.

Thanks to the proof Stiles had of the unauthorized meetup plan involving Victoria, Kate and Gerard exposing their blatant sentence breaking, he had had a rather professional email exchange in which he had formally requested payment for the Blood Debts brought by the Hale Fire (eye for an eye wasn’t just a figure of speech when you dealt with creatures older than the invention of the locomotive) to the Supernatural council (once again, there existed an actual working council ?!) and to Angeline (who was quite a lovely lady, she seemed to have taken a liking to Stiles and had offered a room to stay in once he arrived in her home country as well as an offer to provide him with all the weapons he may find himself needing during his stay, no need to trouble himself with the airport security ! he was the one taking care of a thorn in her side; and how romantic ! the hearts of their enemies as a courting gift… had she been 30 years younger, Stiles was sure that Angeline would have been the one to drive them to Poule-les-Écharmeaux - The Argent matriarch truly reminded Stiles of his Babcia).

With the blessing of both the council and the Argents, Stiles was now on his way to Peter’s.
He had been invited over to try some recipes the Wolf wanted to master and what better occasion than a dinnerdate to irrevocably change someone's life for the better ?

Parking in his regular spot, he got out and took a few minutes to calm his speeding heart. A fine tremor was running through his hands and he felt cold sweat trickling down his back. Tonight would make or break the men’s relationship and Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he had been this anxious. He slowly walked toward the front door and took a fortifying breath before knocking. The door opened on the second knock, Peter having been waiting by the entrance, his ears automatically tuning to the fluttering sound of the young man heartbeats at his arrival; Stiles took the time to truly look at the werewolf: Peter was leaning against the wood frame, his legs crossed right ankle over left, his right hand casually hanging from his front jeans pocket and his other arm casually thrown over his head keeping the door from closing with his elbow. As usual when they were having dinner together, he was wearing a soft looking sweater, slightly oversized and falling off his shoulder which teased the sight of his collarbone and top of his chest muscle; his hair, slightly tussled with loose curls starting to form, was framing his face,accentuating the sharpness of his jaw, his signature smirk painted on his lips and icy blue eyes piercing through Stiles as if he was looking through to his soul.
In all of his casualness, Peter has never been more breathtaking.
Without uttering a sound, Stiles reached out to grab the other’s left hand, making the wolf straighten away from the doorframe, a startled look crossing through his eyes for a second.
-”We need to talk.” Blurted the younger.
-” Not a single one of my happy memories starts with this sentence. What do we need to talk about,Darling ?” replied Peter, voice full of concern and a frown on his brows.He backed away from the entrance, his hand still gripped tightly and leaded the way to the living room, stopping once in front of the green velvet couch both adored. With a slight push, Stiles was sat down, his grandmother’s blanket spread over his legs and his left hand playing nervously with the fraying edges. Peter lowered himself slowly next to him, his other hand coming over the grip Stiles had on his own left hand in order to softly encase the younger man's fingers and slowly caress his knuckles in a back and forth motion.
-”Take all the time you need Sweetheart, I’ve got all night long just for you.” Peter tried to joke, hoping that a bit of humor would calm down the alarmingly dissonant symphony Stiles' heart was playing within his ribcage.
Stiles stared at the werewolf before blurting out :
-” Would you fancy tearing apart Kate for Christmas ?”
-”Wh- Beg your pardon?”
-” it’d be killing then burning the corpses of Kate, Victoria and Gerard, actually.” Stile amended with a nervous chuckle. Peter looked at him, a look of utter disbelief on his face.
-” I think I might need more details here; Dear.”
-” I want to court you, Peter.” Stiles shushed the other before he could interrupt. “ I want to be yours and you to be mine. I want to stay over and cuddle on this very couch anytime I want just because we can, I want to keep sampling your food everytime you feel like trying a new recipe, I want to send you a text each time I see something that make me think of you , I want to bicker about how you organize your books, see you steal my sweaters and act like you’re not the reason they’re always stretched beyond my frame; and I know we already do all that but I want you to know I love you each time we do those small little things. I want you to let yourself love and be loved and I want you to let me be the one you truly let yourself be you. I decided to court you so I thought about who you truly are and You are, before everything else, a wolf. And wolf hunts, mój kochanie; so I found you something to sink your teeth in.” Stiles shrugged and with a mischievous smile, asked again:
-”Let me ask again, How do you feel about hunting down your Pack murderers and making them pay for what they did to us?”

Copying the ravens he had envied as a child, Stiles had found a worthy prey for his own wolf and he couldn’t wait to see Peter let his instincts run free.

Chapter Text

Peter was a hard man to impress but Stiles had managed to do just so.

Peter couldn’t believe quite yet that the younger man had managed to not only find the three missing Argents but also somehow gain the blessing of the Argent matriarch on what was quite crudely a death warrant for (formerly) prominent members of her lineage (Angeline had a reputation which truly was well deserved as one of the most ruthless hunter the other side of the pond and it appeared that displeasing her would result in ways that made the werewolf shiver. Peter would do his best to stay on her good side.).

Stiles had quite directly declared his will to court.Peter would not prevent him from doing so (he was a psychopath, not an idiot) and he would in fact reciprocate. He had been fascinated by the “fragile” human from the get go. If he was honest with himself and he tended to do so, he had been attracted to the forest on that fateful night by Stiles’ smell and had bitten Scott partially because the boy was drenched in what could have been described as one of the most mouth watering scent any semi autonomous former coma patient would not have been able resisted going for a taste (Peter certainly hadn’t). Stiles had been the only one deserving of the choice whether to follow the Alpha in his revenge quest or stay out of it. The teenager had chosen to stay human and Peter had respected that decision no matter how displeased he was with it. Stiles had shown multiple times his loyalty and ruthlessness (not many would choose to blow up in flame the sole survivor of a house fire - Stiles had thrown the lighten up molotov cocktail fully knowing it would destroy Peter no matter if he survived the night) and he could be proud of it. The human had the snarkiest manipulative genius mind in the prettiest package possible. Fighting for his life every other week had allowed his muscles to develop in a way that screamed practicality. His skin was littered with constellations of moles that Peter would pay to map with his tongue, his hazelnut eyes speckled with gold would remind him of the warmest chocolate and his mischievous smile would bring wave of warmth to Peter(s chest each time he was grace with one.
A traditional courting respond would take place after the actual handing over of the initiating courting gift but Peter wasn’t willing to let time pass and risk Stiles changing his mind (would the other rescind the courting, Peter would of course respect his choice but he would make sure he had done his best so that Stiles did not think about rescinding the courting in the first place.) The courting response gift had to showcase why the initiator and recipient were worthy as a pair and Peter knew exactly what he would select as his present.

As a teenager, Peter had spent three years training in Ōita, located on the island of Kyushu, Japan learning the way of the Niten Ichi-ryū which followed the teaching of Miyamoto Musashi who had been the writer of the Go Rin no Sho - Book of Five Rings, one of the most influential book of strategy. Sent there by his grandparents in order to develop his combat proficiency and his mind so he would grow into his future role of left Hand to the best of his potential, the wolf had flourished under the teaching of his master and had taken to the teachings as a fish to water. Its philosophy had fed his thirst for knowledge and had allowed Peter to take pride in his physical skills while learning to develop the wisdom he craved.
Part of his training had been to copy the Go Rin no Sho in gyōsho, the japanese semi-cursive style of calligraphy. He would use the time to meditate on the principles he was copying and take the time to assimilate them to the best of his abilities. Each morning, he would hand over the inked papers to one of his fellow students and each evening he would copy the principles again. The cycle would repeat until his master assigned him the next chapter and it would signify that his current understanding of the Way was satisfactory.
On the last day of his stay, his master had handed Peter five bound books which contained his handmade version of the Go Rin no Sho ; each individual page ones he had copied throughout his three-years long stay.
The books had been one of Peter’s most prized possessions and had luckily been stored in a secure safe within the Hale Vault at the time of the fire.
Stiles had offered his help when Peter had taken the time to manage the inventory of the Vaults. They had spent weeks identifying ,classifying and estimating the values of all that was left of the Hale Legacy. Stiles has stumbled upon Peter’s Go Rin no Sho books while emptying the floor safe for sorting. He had treated the books with utmost reverence, somehow recognizing their personal worth without a word being uttered between the pair. At this moment, Peter had made the decision to make a handmade copy of similar fashion for the Younger man. He had been working on it for months while he had a spare moment and he was close to the end.

While holding his handmade tomes of the “Book of Five Rings”, Stiles would have no chance to doubt that Peter was fully embracing their courtship, for better and for worse.

Chapter Text

Deciding to go after a trio of murderous speciesist hunters might have been one of the easiest decisions Stiles and Peter had taken but it was by no means easy to plan for.
There were five steps to plan and consider carefully:

The research: it had begun the moment they had encountered the Argents for the first time. Knowledge was key, from what Victoria enjoyed for breakfast to how many weapons Kate liked to have on her person in combat passing through which radio station the police in Poule-les-Écharmeaux used at any given time.
The supernatural duo would have to take any and all possibilities into account to ensure the safest murdering possible. Stiles was used to research supernatural shenanigans and Peter had had to investigate all that came into contact with his Pack back in the day.
With the amount of time Stiles had spent researching at Peter’s, he was as good as moved into the cottage but they were ready to go.

The wait: They had flown to Lyon,France through Amsterdam and had taken the car generously provided by Angeline at the Lyon-Saint-Exupery airport. They had decided to stay in the next state over, in Burgundy, in the city of Charolles - it was a 40 minutes drive from their target lodging which was near enough and had the advantage to be a city were two foreigners would be too out of place as Charolles was an emblematic city known internationally for its food and fine tin-glazed pottery. Peter would use their stay to actually buy some decorative pieces. The man already had a collection of several flower vases, lamps, plates, tea pot and cups of the signature white faience with red carnation that the Manufacture des Charolles was famous for. At some point, Stiles started to wonder if the werewolf was more excited by the courting hunt or by his future shopping spree.
Peter had booked their stay in a villa within a vineyard bordering the city for two weeks. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked like the perfect couple's Christmas retreat and the pair had played into everyone’s assumptions as to provide further depths to their alibi (their interactions and behaviors hadn’t been for show though, Stiles could feel Peter’s purr when they hugged, Peter could smell Stiles arousal when they went out to dinner and the werewolf had dressed to the nines, they would spoon in bed and fall asleep in each other arms - they behaved like a couple because they both wanted to.).

The foot in the door: Once they had blended themselves in the background, they had to trigger the fateful encounter with the Argents. The best enemy is a dead one but the second best is an overconfident one. By making them believe they were in control of the situation, Peter and Stiles would be underestimated and would keep the true upper hand. It meant “accidentally” crossing paths in a very public setting which would push the three hunters to plan to go after the remaining Hale and its companion. If they only crossed Victoria’s path, she might be inclined to hide their presence to the others two, if they crossed only Kate’s, the pedophile might get too trigger happy and force a confrontation where they stand which would ruin the secretive nature of the affrontement and finally, if they crossed Gerard’s path alone, Peter wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from tearing the geriatric’s throat out in the open - the man had encouraged his daughter in her twisted acts and tortured his future mate, it was just a bit too much to allow Peter’s restrain not to snap. It had been decided that they would devise an encounter with both Kate and Victoria’s at the same time . The latter would restrain the former in public and Victoria wouldn’t be able to hide the encounter from Gerard as Kate would push for a confrontation. They would track the Argents and ambush them. It was left to Peter to decide how he wished to proceed next..

The kill: it was to be the most straightforward step in a way. It could take the blink of an eye or tarry for days, if desired.
Peter was a natural predator gifted with sharp teeth and claws he could use anytime but he was also a trained killer, proficient with firearms and blades of every shape.
As for Stiles, he had been trained since childhood to use firearms, hunting rifles because it was a family tradition to hunt game but handguns came into play once the Sheriff became a deputy so both Stiles and his mother would be comfortable with the police officer service gun if situations required them to use it (the irony of the older Stilinski preparing them in case of a home invasion from a criminal seeking revenge on the officer family to end up with Stiles planning a home invasion to seek revenge wasn’t lost on the young man.).
Peter and Stiles decided to only outline this part of the plan as both knew that they most likely would have to improvise. The Argents were crafty and any injured animal would become unpredictable in their desperation. The three hunters weren’t above their instincts no matter what they wanted to believe. It was also a reasonable possibility that Peter would enjoy stretching his family’s murderers’death.

The disposal: As discussed with Angeline during negotiations, Stiles wanted to get as close as possible from the “an eye for an eye” type of settlement. Burning down a house with Kate inside seemed pretty close in his humble opinion. The council had raised an objection : As per tradition, the Alpha of the offended pack was the only one allowed to collect the blood debt. There was no longer a Hale Alpha, therefore no one was permitted to collect the Argents debt.(At this “oh so helpful" contribution to the talks, Stiles had the thought that it would be easier if there was no supernatural council.) Angeline provided a solution to this caveat faster than Stiles could swing his bat in the “monster of the week”’s knees. She happened to have a feral Alpha in her custody (Stiles did not ask how or why, thank you very much) and she was more than happy to give him to Peter in exchange for a peace treaty between the reformed Hale pack and the Main Argent line. Of course Stiles had accepted such a generous gift and the first stop the duo had taken on their way from the airport had been to go get Peter his sparky power-up.(Red looked so good on Peter whether in his eyes or running down his teeth.).
In the end, burning down the corpses would allow the Hale Alpha to collect the owed blood debt, clean up all evidences of the supernatural involvement in these not-so-natural deaths and circumvent the improbable scenario where Peter used his claws to tear out Kate’s throat and she survived the ordeal and turned somehow (it was impossible of course but Peter had come back from the dead which was just as impossible; Stiles wasn't taking any chances.)

Kate, Victoria and Gerard had forgotten what their enemies were capable of and had dumbly thought themselves above justice. They had made a mockery of Angeline's leniency and had taken more liberties than they could afford .
They had managed to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs and they would have to pay the price.

Chapter Text

The Search and Wait had gone without a hitch.
Peter and Stiles had gotten their foot in the door at a local flea market during which Peter had negotiated with a vendor in a voice that was just strong enough to be heard over others but not loud enough to be rude.
They could see from the corner of their eyes that Kate had indeed been ready to charge them as soon as she saw them but she had been restrained by Victoria who had reminded her in a low voice that they were supposed to hide and not to cause any ripples that would force them to run and hide deeper away from the main family line. The two ladies had left the market, confident they hadn’t been noticed by the bargaining werewolf . This level of delusion was out of this world as not for a second did they stop and think that if they had seen and heard Peter with their all human ears, then a werewolf with heightened hearing and a deeply ingrained vigilance(it isn’t really paranoia if they actually are out to get you) would somehow manage to stay oblivious to their proximity.
Stiles had managed through the intentional diversion to place a microphone and a tracker in Victoria’s purse. They were able to become the huntresses' shadows and watch them act as predictable as they had anticipated.

As soon as they had reached the house they were sharing with Gerard, Kate couldn’t stop herself from yapping about the encounter they just had to her father.
-"Père, tu ne devineras jamais qui nous avons croisé sur la place centrale du marché.- Father, you’ll never guess who we stumbled upon at the market hall." Gerard didn’t bother raising his head from the crossword he was trying failing to solve. Used to this treatment from her father, Kate kept going while an exasperated Victoria excused herself from the room in order to organize the groceries they had bought at said market, leaving her handbag on one of the chairs.
-"Ce clébard de Hale en train d’essayer de fricoter avec l’une des vendeuses. - The Hale mutt was trying to seduce one of the vendors."
Gerard stopped for a second. “ il est loin du bercail. Seul ou en meute ? - He is far from home. Alone or with a pack?"
-"Un vrai chien errant, abandonné de tous et c’est bien mérité ! - A stray dog, left behind by all, like he deserves ! " Kate laughed at her own joke, wishfully thinking about the hurt such a statement would cause the werewolf if she ever said so to its face.

(Stiles was listening in on the conversation, translating in real time to Peter. The younger man chose to omit this backhanded insult and swore to himself that he’d make them pay for that offense. Peter deserved the world and Stiles would burn it all down before abandoning his werewolf.)

-"Qu’est ce que tu penses d’une petite partie de chasse pour Noël? - What do you think about going on a hunt for Christmas?"
Victoria re-entered the room the moment Kate uttered her question. "Sérieusement, Catherine ? Grandit un peu ! On doit rester discret, rien que nos retrouvailles sont un nid a embrouille. Si Angeline entend parler de cette petite réunion de famille, nous sommes fini. Et puis, tu sais très bien qu’on ne peut pas se permettre le moindre faux pas et je suis prête à parier qu’Angeline considérerai éliminer le dernier Hale vivant un putain de faux pas. - Seriously, Catherine? Grow up a little! We must remain discreet, our reunion alone is a can of worms better left unopened. If Angeline hears about this little family reunion, we're finished. You know very well that we can't afford the slightest misstep and I'm willing to bet that Angeline would consider eliminating the last living Hale a fucking misstep." Victoria was fed up with the younger woman's attitude, Kate was an entitled little bitch that couldn’t see farther than her pig-like nose.
Gerard cleared his throat,silencing the two bickering women.
"Victoria a raison,nous nous devons d’être le plus discret possible - Victoria is right, we must strive to be as inconspicuous as possible." Victoria smirked as Kate huffed her displeasure.
"Cependant… Je n'ai aucunement l’intention de trahir nos valeurs à cause d’une imbécile qui n’est pas capable de mener notre famille avec la dignité qu’elle mérite. La lignée des Argents a pour mission d'éradiquer les monstruosités qui vagabondent parmi nous. C’est notre devoir de détruire ce chien et c’est ce que nous allons faire. - However… I have no intention of betraying our values ​​because of an imbecile who is not capable of leading our family with the dignity it deserves. The Argent lineage's mission is to eradicate the monstrosities that roam among us. It is our duty to destroy this dog and that is what we are going to do."
Gerard’s decision brought an end to the debate and the trio started planning their venery.

In the background, the death knell rang seven times, eager to provide the melody to what would be the Argents’Swan song ; a final performance to be given before they reached the end of their lives.

Chapter Text

He wakes up lying on the cold ground. His head hurts, he can feel something cold slowly trickling down over his closed right eye. It smells like blood.
He feels weak, dizzy. He tries to open his eyes but it’s not helping much.
He is in the dark. He thinks that he is not supposed to be in darkness. He feels like he should panic but he can’t really remember why. His mind pulls him under and he welcomes the unconsciousness.
Maybe he’ll understand what’s going on when he wakes up.

He wakes up again. There is some light now. Hours must have passed. He doesn’t feel as disoriented but he still can’t remember. His face seems to be glued to the ground. There is a voice in the back of his mind which is urging him to stand up and run.
He tries to sit down.
He fails.
His hands are chained. it rattled when he tried to move. He can somehow hear voices but it sounds clouded as if far away. He feels like he can’t trust the owners of said voices so he doesn’t try to shout for attention. He doesn’t think he would succeed anyway as his throat is uncomfortably dry and feels like sandpaper. He’s thirsty and there is a weird taste in his mouth, almost chemical. His attempt at moving has tired him more than expected. He feels himself slipping again toward oblivion. He tries to resist but he fails again.

Third time’s the charm, right?
He’s still lying down when he reaches consciousness. He's also still chained up.
He’s starting to remember. Something obviously didn’t go according to plan. He remembers that he was outside and he had just finished an unexpected phonecall with Angeline when something heavy collided with the back of his head. He fell to the ground and pain exploded behind his eyes. Then nothing.
He takes the time to take a deep breath.
A sudden siren is blaring, cries and shouts erupt behind the locked door of the room he is in. Guns are being fired, sounds of bodies colliding and a demented roar resonates all around followed by the deafening boom of explosion and then complete silence.
He can hear the passage of his blood through his veins, the pump of his erratic heart joining the symphony of his ragged breath, waiting for what will happen next. Steady steps seemed to be coming closer, before the rattling of a key entering its designated hole made his gaze focus on the closed door. It creaks open and a figure slowly enters, a gun in hand,a triumphant expression on their face and a cruel smirk at their lips.
-“Sorry for the wait, Dear. I had to put a leash on some rabid beasts and I got a bit too enthusiastic”. A smile blossomed on their lips. “My apologies to your housemaid, I can't think of anything that is going to be able to bring those stains out of my shirt.”

Peter slowly smiled back, unconsciously reaching his hand out and momentarily forgetting about the chains holding him down.
Covered in blood and armed to the teeth, Stiles had never been so magnificent.

Chapter Text

The Argents had brought their captive to a literal chateau and he had been left chained inside the dungeon that covered the whole underground of the castle. Once Stiles had opened his manacles with the key he had stolen on the way to his wolf, the pair had slowly walked back to the ground level while leaning against each other, Peter for physical support, Stiles for reassurance. Peter had been dosed with some strain of wolfsbane that made him sluggish but he was visibly recuperating steps after steps. Stiles hadn’t felt so helpless in a longtime as when he had gotten back to their villa to find Peter’s phone on the ground, screen cracked, wolfsbane dust and traces of a body being dragged away next to it. He didn’t think about anything then besides how to find his wolf and get him back, with as much lethal violence as required. Luckily, Stiles had gained the habit through the years to tag all that he cared about and he cared very much about Peter. The sheriff's son didn’t think that Peter was actually aware that all the wearable gifts he had received from Stiles in the past year or so had been equipped with trackers. A leather bracelet with the triskelion engraved on the inner side that never left Peter's left wrist had been one of said presents. The aforementioned tracker’s signal located itself at a medieval castle that proudly stood on a lake shore to the east and surrounded by greenery and forest in all other directions. Stiles had taken a look at Peter’s phone record on the off chance it would give him clues on what had happened. Finding the Argent Matriarch personal phone number at the top of the list had brought Stiles right to her doorstep as fast as humanly possible.

Since the death of her husband over a decade ago, Angeline Argent lived alone in the inherited farmhouse that had been in the family since the days of her founding ancestor. She had not expected that her first face-to-face meeting with the young Stilinski would happen in the circumstances it did. He had been waiting at her kitchen table for her to come back from church, gun raised. She calmly walked down and sat across from him, her hands crossed on top of the tablecloth.
-” Stiles, I assume it isn’t a courtesy visit.” She commented idly.
-” Peter is gone.” Her eyes widened as she involuntarily tightened her grip.
- “Taken. And you are the last person to have called him.” Angeline released her breath, glad her assumption over Peter’s death was incorrect. “Why did you call him?” Stiles asked, slightly gesturing at her with his revolver.
-” I wanted to get a sense of the man who stole your heart.” Stiles raised an eyebrow, waiting for the lady to continue.
-” You remind me of my Aldrik.” her eyes turned fond and a melancholic smile blossomed on her face.
“We met when we were teenagers. He was a classmate of my older brother, Thibault. One day, my brother got his leg broken during a hunt and as he went back to school, Aldrik decided that he would take over some of Thibault's chores as a thank you for all the help he had received for his studies. Aldrik was dyslexic and had troubles with the lessons; Thibault had taken him under his wings, without judgement and Aldrik couldn’t have been more grateful for their friendship. There he was,each and every morning, out by dawn, taking care of the cows, making sure the horses had their feed, all the pigs went out, rabbits got fresh hay, and so on and so forth. My father took a liking to the boy and all but adopted him in the family. Aldrik’s parents were quite wealthy but had no care for their son which left him to be quite lonely. We got to know each other during the weeks he took over my brother’s farm tasks and got to courting in the months following. He was one of the funniest, sweetest, caring men you would ever meet but he was also a strong, calculating, iron-willed fellow. We had to introduce him to the family business sooner or later as he didn’t know anything about the supernatural. Aldrik took to it like a fish to water and he soon became one of my family’s most skilled hunters. He was so proficient thanks to his desire to learn and his compassion. Having a learning disability made him face horrible humans who wouldn’t bother hiding their prejudice as well as wonderful people who would support and love him for who himself made him develop a strong sense of justice and empathy. It takes a lot to be able to be part of our world but I couldn’t have found a man better made for me and our lives. ” Angeline had slowly started to caress the wedding band on her ring finger the longer she talked.
-”What did you think of Peter, then ? Is he my Angeline?” Stiles asked sarcastically.
She took the time to truly observe the young man sitting at her kitchen table while she reflected on his question.. Whispers of his fear were slowly flashing through his eyes, the almost imperceptible tremor of his body, ready to move at any second, his too tight grip on the gun - not from inexperience but from impatience - highlighted how on edge he was. He looked desperate , brought down by his ignorance of what had happened and not yet sure what he could do to get his wolf back.
Is he your Angeline?
It might have been intended to sting but it held some kernels of truth so she answered as truthfully as she could.
-”Yes, he is.” Stiles startled at the serious tone and somehow let go of the revolver for it to fall between them. “And I’ll do my all to bring him back to you. Tell me what you have so far.” Stiles took a deep breath and told her all he knew. Angeline recognized the address where Peter’s tracker was and in a few calls, she had organized a team ready to assiege the place as soon as they got there. They had burst through the place with a trained team of hunters who had been briefed on the way and were fully prepared to take down anyone trying to stop them from rescuing the Werewolf who had been wronged by the Argents before and allow Stiles to handle the search part of the mission. Angeline’s hunters would secure the estate and let Stiles bring out to freedom his future mate once found.

As they got out of the cell Peter was kept in, an eerie silence reigned through the estate. The stairs to the dungeons had their entrance to one of the smaller dependance of the castle and led to the gardens.
Said garden was arranged in an English style with nature free to develop without apparent rules,creating a true maze. Its center revealed a large alcove where a smaller garden a la francaise blossomed : four sections, each seeming to represent a season with a fountain, were surrounding a rectangular pavilion within which nine greek statues were overlooking a stone bench. Each marble woman seemed to be a representation of one of the Greek muse, their cold beauty distracting from the three bodies tied at their feet, lying motionless on ground.
The scene would forever be burned through Peter’s mind.
The three Argents who had destroyed his pack, taken so many innocent lives, become recurring tormentors within Peter’s night terrors were now barely alive, crawling at his feet, brought to their knees by the man who had chosen to court him, the one his pack (his loved ones) had left behind (to suffer, to die, to always wonder why wasn’t he worthy of protection when all he had ever done was protect them.). For once, Peter had been the one to be rescued. He did not have to be the protector, no longer the one dirtying his hand with crimes he had been ordered to commit to be then vilified for said crimes. Through Stiles, he had found Pack and he intended to cherish his boy the way he deserved in return. But he'd start by appreciating the beauty of his marvelous boy’s gift.
Peter slowly circled the unconscious trio before sitting on the stone bench, a sadistic smile on his lips, Stiles at his side.

The Muses would stand vigil, silent witnesses to the righteous revenge coming to pass.

Chapter Text

As she watched the dismembered bodies of her dear cousin’s family slowly being consumed by flames, Angeline wondered if she should have done anything to alter how life had gone.

She remembers the first time she had met Gerard.
He had been holding hands with her younger cousin Elodie, both barely out of their adolescence,with bashful smiles and rosy cheeks.
They were young and in Love.
Just like her Aldrik, Gerard hadn’t been aware of the supernatural and was introduced to this side of the Argent’s legacy when he had asked for Elodie’s hand in marriage and she had said yes. He had seemed to take the reveal as well as one could hoped but maybe Angeline should have paid more attention. She remembers the last face to face conversation she had had with Elodie before she left for America. The two had slowly drifted apart because of life getting in the way: Elodie was now the mother of a delicate boy named Christopher and was pregnant with a baby girl while Angeline had recently taken the mantle of Matriarch. The pair were sitting under the old apple tree in the farmhouse backyard,looking as the sun hid behind the horizon.
-” Angeline,est-ce que tu penses que je fais ce qui est juste?- Angeline, Do you think I am doing what’s right?”
-”Hmm..? Qu'est ce que tu veux dire ? - Hmm..? What do you mean?” Angeline looked at Elodie, who had a faraway look in her eye.
- “ En partant à l'autre bout du monde, loin de ma famille, loin de ceux qui m’aiment. - By leaving for the other side of the world, far away from my family,away from my loved ones.”
Angeline thought about it from her own perspective. She was too young for the responsibility now on her shoulders and envied a bit the freedom of her younger cousin who was about to travel the world.
-”Je pense que tu fais ce qui fait sens pour t'épanouir dans cette nouvelle étape de ta vie. Tu embarques dans de nouvelles aventures avec ton mari et tes enfants donc tu emportes une partie de ta famille avec toi. Et puis, tu ne nous quittes pas pour toujours ! Je suis là pour toi quoi qu’il arrive. - I think you are doing what makes sense to thrive in this new stage of your life. You embark on new adventures with your husband and your future children so you take part of your family with you. And it’s not like you're leaving us forever! I'm here for you no matter what.”
-”Tu sais, je suis fière de toi Angeline. Tu vas être la meilleure matriarche que les Argents ont jamais eu. Je pense que j’aurais aimé être à tes cotés pour te voir devenir la femme que tu as toujours été destinée d’être mais comme tu dis, j’ai un bébé pour qui je me dois d’etre là. - You know, I'm proud of you Angeline. You're going to be the best matriarch the Argents have ever had. I think I would have liked to be by your side to see you become the woman you were always destined to be but like you said, I have a baby that I have to be there for.”
It was the last time the two women ever talked. Elodie had died soon after giving birth to Catherine and Gerard had cut all direct contact with Angeline.
Angeline wondered if she would have been able to protect Christopher and Catherine from the corruption and suffering they had gone through with their father. Had she been able to conquer her grief at the loss of her beloved Elodie, would she have been able to get custody of her cousin’s children and raise them in the Argents legacy ? Would have Catherine turned as twisted as she had? Would the Hales have suffered the tragic fate inflicted on them by a woman confusing them for the monster she was ? Would Peter have to be trapped in his own mind for close to a decade just to be betrayed by the one supposed to be there for you no matter what ?
She thinks about the monarch butterfly slowly moving its wings she noticed as they lit the bonfire, thinking how odd it was to see a butterfly in December. Had her answer to Elodie all those years ago been the flap of the butterfly’s wings to cause the typhoon of pain Peter went through? Had she answered differently, would it have been the trigger to a better present? Angeline felt as if she had failed the one she was meant to protect and had sullied her family’s legacy by turning a blind eye to the horrendous acts part of the self-proclaimed Argents hunters had and were potentially still committing.
She was just human, she hadn’t known, she should do better.

As Peter watched the dismembered bodies of his family murderers slowly being consumed by flames, he wondered if he would have done anything to alter how life had gone.

He remembers praying for death.
Rock followed by burning arrows had broken through every window of the house and started the fire. People trying to exit through the doors had been shot on sight with wolfsbane bullets through the head. Talia had ordered people to get to the basement to go through the hidden passageway but they had been filled with Aconite gas by the hunters. The Hales had been condemned to die, by facing an execution peloton, suffocating from airborne poison or slowly burning alive.
He remembers the sensation of the smoke filling his lungs. The unspoken decision they all took to mercifully break the neck of the younger one to preserve them from the fate the adults would soon succumb to.The desperate looks he exchanged with his sister, full of anguish but also of love and forgiveness before darkness took him under.
He remembers waking to an ocean of pain, grieving for his broken pack, feeling three taunt bonds,desperately reaching out for them to be ripped away by Laura and leaving him to die alone. Peter had gone insane and had taken the life of the Alpha who had sullied his sister's legacy by putting her fears before her Pack.
He was broken, he hadn’t forgotten nor forgiven, he would do it all over again.

As Stiles watched the dismembered bodies of his tormentors slowly being consumed by flames, he wondered if he could have done anything to alter how life had gone.

He remembers the warmth of his father’s hugs and the bedtime stories his mother would weave to lull him to sleep.
Her favorite to tell was the story of the Little Prince of Saint Exupery.
In a little planet lost in the stars, lived a little Prince. The prince was all alone on his home planet but he was happy as it was all he had ever known. One day a rose grew on his planet, the little Prince took care of the flower, shielding her from the meteor rains, showering her with love but the flower wouldn’t bloom and could only show her homesickness. She missed earth and nothing was enough to make her happy in the little Prince’s home. The little Prince decided to travel the universe in order to learn more about life and find something that would cure his rose’s melancholy. Through his adventures,he met a king who governed over no one, the richest man in the universe who didn’t have the time to enjoy his fortunes and many others before arriving on earth. There he encountered a wild fox. Just like him the fox had always been alone and he was quite happy with that but the fox was bored as all days were the same. He asked the little Prince to tame him so they would be friends. The little Prince did so and the two spent days together, happy.But the little Prince had to move on as he had not found anything to help his flower yet. Both the fox and the Prince felt grief at the separation but would cherish the moments they had had. The little Prince kept going until one day, he ended up in the desert. There he met an injured giant bird with metal wings and a man with no hope. The Prince befriended the man like the fox taught him but the man wasn’t made for the desert and he soon suffered from thirst. The Prince led him to a well he had discovered during his previous escapades. Once the man was saved and the giant bird healed, it was time for the Prince to go back to his beloved rose. As a last goodbye,the Prince told the man to look at the stars and know that the Prince would be among them, no longer alone and the happiest he could ever be ,reunited with his true love. The Prince would forever be in the man’s heart, just like the fox would always hold a piece of the Prince’s feelings. No matter the pain and sorrow they would go through, they would be loved and no longer alone.
When his mother died, Stiles’ happiness slowly withered, hollowed like the whisky bottles littering the floor of his mother’s house.
The little boy wished for things to be different, just like the man who traveled with a giant bird of metal wings wished of leaving the desert but he was too young and he couldn’t bring his father back home, away from his grief. Stiles still looked up to the stars and hoped his mother would be among them, happy with the Little Prince and his rose, cherishing her son from afar, waiting for someone to come and whisk him up with love and affections.
He was hopeful, he hadn’t given up, he could do no mighty miracles but he’d do it all for love.

As the smoke of the pyre rose toward the sky, all the souls harmed by the deceased Argents were given respite. A kaleidoscope of butterflies arose from the flames, reaching for the stars and taking with them the heart demons of the three sentinels.

Chapter Text

As the fire had started to die down, Angeline had given the other two some space and went to coordinate with her team. The duo stared at the ashes slowly rising toward the sky when a trio of women slowly emerged from the remaining fire. Peter and Stiles should have stood on alert the moment they saw people start to appear but a sentiment of peace slowly spread through their mind. In front of the men, slowly walking toward them, were Claudia Stilinski, Talia and Laura Hale. Their silhouettes appeared blurry, slightly withered as if their colors had been washed out and taken a sepia tint. Peter and Stiles were paralyzed by their disbelief, not yet willing to believe their eyes.
-”Hello Peter.”
Had Peter been asked how his sister sounded like, he would not have been able to describe it as he had woken up from his coma with no memory of Talia's voice but it was just like Peter imagined it to be. He looked at his sister (his alpha) and remained still, not a sound escaping his mouth.
-” Oh… Uncle Peter… I am so sorry for what I put you through.” While she spoke, Laura had finished approaching and embraced her uncle fiercely , the tensed werewolf startled before he crumbled in tears in her arms; Talia coming close and supporting the weight of the two hugging figures as they fell on their knees to the ground. They stayed closely interlocked for an indefinite amount of time, crying, exchanging words of affection and profusely apologizing for all their faults. (“I should have taught her better.” ; “I shouldn't have left you behind.” ; ”I should have protected the pack better.” ; ”I’m sorry we weren’t there for you.” ; “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.” ; “I’m sorry I had to kill you.” )
Tears slowly stopped running down their cheeks and they laid down entangled together, Peter 's head on his sister’s stomach and her hands in his hair, Laura in his arms, her face nuzzled in his throat. -“You did the best you could, little Brother, and I am proud of you.” Talia said after a few moments, basking in her loved ones presence.
“It’s time to let go Uncle Peter, you have to forgive yourself for what happened to all of us, even me.” Laura gently added to her mother’s words. “We love you and you deserve to be happy after all this time.”
Talia nodded toward Stiles. “You should let yourself love someone who’ll love you back for who you are for better and for worse.”
Peter looked toward the boy who was engulfed in his mother’s arms. “I think I already started to.”
The trio all smiled and slowly stood up, the two women putting their backs to the flames which were almost gone, signalling that their time was almost up.

Stiles had made a step toward his wolf the moment Laura collided with him but was stopped by his mother’s hand on his shoulder. She slowly shaked her head and led her son to the nearby stone bench before sitting with him on it.
-” My dear… Dear Mischief. You’ve grown up so well, so caring, so full of love. I couldn’t be prouder. ” Claudia caressed her baby boy’s cheek tenderly and softly smiled as he grabbed her hand and nuzzled his head into her palm.”
-”Mama…” The underlying hopelessness of Stiles' voice made her heart break in pieces. She didn’t have much time and had so many things to say and do, even though there was nothing she wanted more than to stay so she started speaking.
-” I am so sorry for hurting you and leaving as soon as I did. I am sorry you lost your father when I died. ” She shushed her son who had started to object.
-” I know, baby, trust me I know. His grief doesn’t excuse his behaviour. I might have been the other part of his soul but you are a part of both of us. He lost himself in memories of us instead of cherishing who was left behind.” She took him in her arms before whispering in his ears while slowly patting his head. ”You have been left to take care of everyone else for too long and you’ve been so strong, Mieczysław. Let yourself be cared for for once, he’ll make you happy.” Claudia looked at Peter as she talked.
-” He already does.”
They both smiled and went back to the pyre, Claudia joining the ladies side, Stiles slotting himself against Peter, their hand in each other’s.
-”I love you Mischief. Take care of my baby boy, will you Peter ?”
-“And I love you Peter. Do the same for my brother,OK Stiles?”They both nodded as an answer.
- “ I love you Uncle Peter.”
As the last embers died down, the three smiling women closed their eyes, heads tilted toward the moon as they slowly disintegrated in a myriad of butterflies, flying away and leaving the two men behind.

As Peter and Stiles stood together in their temporary living room, freshly out of showers they had taken as soon as they had come back from the Argent estate, a solemn silence reigned. Stiles' courting gift had been successful. Peter’s revenge had been quenched, the one responsible for his family deaths and the subsequent loss of pack had been killed and their remains purified through a pyre as in a sardonic turn of fate. They had received the visit of the three women who had mattered most in their lives. Peter found it quite ironic that Most major turn of his life seemed to be linked to fire (It took his family, his sanity, his life. It gave him peace, freedom, redemption.).
Peter and Stiles looked at each other, a heavy air settling between them.
Is it really over? What happens now ?
As if their strings had been cut, they both moved at the same time to grab each other, frantically kissing. Stiles jumped in Peter’s arms,his legs wrapping around the werewolf’s waist and they made their way blindly to the bedroom, not stopping to look around, bumping against walls and furniture.They took a pause as they entered the room, sharing their breath, their foreheads touching. Peter laid Stiles down reverently on the bed , both admiring the other as they lost their clothes. Stiles gestured to his wolf to join him on the bed and they laid for a minute rejoicing in the closeness of their bodies. -”I love you Peter.” Stiles murmured, looking straight in the red eyes staring back at him as he held his wolf’s face in between his hands, slowly caressing his cheekbones and exploring through touch, going as far as to poke the elongated canines with his thumb.
-”I don’t think there is anything on this earth which would stop me from loving you, Sweetheart.”
Stiles squirmed, his cheeks gaining a reddish tint. “Not even if I threw another molotov cocktail at you ?”
Peter chuckled and replied with his most seductive smile. “I’d buy you the matches.”

Just like the children who followed the pied piper of Hamelin without turning back, Peter would follow Stiles to the end of the world and give his all to fulfill all and every dreams of the man who was the other part of his soul.

Chapter Text

All of their pack knew that Stiles and Peter loved Christmas.
Like every year, all of the members of the pack would come back to the polish countryside where Stiles and Peter had settled several years ago and they would all decorate the pack house together with candles, tinsels and garlands. Peter would go out to the local sawmill and get the biggest Christmas tree that would fit in the living room and Stiles would run around preparing the pack house for all the guests to come. Wilhelmina Gajos, Stiles’ Babcia, would be by their side, mothering up all and everyone the moment they stepped foot in the house.

She had been quite baffled when she opened her front door on Christmas Eve all those years ago to see standing in the snow her beloved grandson Mieczysław and a man she would soon begin to see as another beloved grandchild. Stiles had jumped in her arms the moment she opened and only Peter’s reflexes and strength had prevented them from falling on the ground. She hadn’t seen her late daughter’s family in close to a decade and a half and had been quite shocked at the surprise visit. She, of course, had been enchanted to have the pair home for Christmas and had ushered them in. They had stayed with her for close to a half a year, Stiles taking college classes virtually while Peter started back his antique dealership from her guestroom, before they made the decision to settle down where they were. Wilhelmina had been introduced to the supernatural on that fateful Christmas day where Peter had asked her for her grandson’s hand in marriage. She had been flattered to be asked even though she had wondered why she was the family figure he had deemed worthy to ask (she had her suspicions on how her son-in-law had treated her beloved grandbaby but she kept her words to herself. For now at least…) and Peter had felt it necessary to give her a crash course on the pair’s history, as well as an edited summary of his life, revealing his werewolfiness.(she had been satisfied to learn that his tormentors had been taken care of and so very proud of her Mischief’s involvement in such events).She had of course agreed and had even offered to walk him down the aisle (a stray tear escaped Peter at the offer.).
Peter had proposed on Christmas morning under the Christmas tree with his grandmother's engagement ring and Stiles had said yes, face split in a giant smile and eyes glistening, getting out of his back pocket his own small ring box which contained his mother’s ring.
Her heart had filled with love even more at the sight, the both of them truly made for each other. She had felt the pack bonds snap in place as soon as they put each other’s ring on their fingers and it had been one of the best feelings she had ever had the chance of experiencing.
Over time, others joined the pack, mostly misfits who just needed to find their place in the harsh world from all ages. One of the most notable additions had been Angeline Argent herself who had taken a strong liking to the alpha pair but had grown particularly close to Peter. She had actually been the one to walk the werewolf down the aisle at the wedding,which had taken place in the infamous garden where they had burned down the Hale murderers. It had been significant for Stiles and Peter to be able to celebrate their new beginning in the place which had cemented their relationship. As they said their vows, standing in front of the Muses statues, three small butterflies had settled on their joined hands before flying away as they shared their first kiss as a married couple.

Just as for the Christmas seasons passed and the one to start, Peter and Stiles would spend days in the kitchen cooking for Christmas dinner, singing Christmas carol all over the house; especially their favorite “ Twelves days of Christmas” which would make the youngest member of the pack giggle and hide their eyes at the embarrassing scene of their Alpha and his mate dancing and smooching (Little Lucy had warned them quite seriously that they were sharing cooties and that it was a seriously threatening illness to have.).
The pack would spend full afternoons watching Hallmarks movies and drinking eggnog with each other under cozy blankets Angeline and Whilhelmina had made, smirking to the fond eyerolls of the teenage members who would be secretly looking at them with love in their eyes and smiles on their lips. Stiles would dress up as Santa to the delight of the youngests while Peter would turn in his wolf shift to pull a sled in which all the presents had been stored.
The adults would joke that they were all more than willing to welcome the wolf in the sheepfold if he was bribing them with gifts and they all would agree that joining the pak had been one of the best decisions of their life.
On Christmas Eve, Stiles and Peter would light candles on the windowsills before going outside in the backyard to wait for midnight to chime, laying in the snow, watching the stars which illuminated the sky.

Each year without fault, on the twelfth strike of the clock, their loved ones would join them outside, allowing them to bask in each other’s love and reminding them they were no longer alone, all their hearts drumming in unison through the silence of the night.