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All the tales that Stiles had heard described Prince Derek as imposing – stoic – terrifying. They said that when he finally caught up with the Argents after their betrayal and attempted escape, he fed the Patriarch to his pet lion, personally overseeing the disposal of every chunk of flesh, gristle and bone. They also said that when it came to the Lady Katherine, he was even less charitable, allegedly giving her over to his sisters for whatever they deemed a suitable punishment. Suffice it to say, Katherine’s body was never found and there were some that said she haunted Hale Castle to this day.Gulping down his fear, Stiles reminded himself why he was there. As the new ruler of Beacon Hills, Prince Derek was due a tribute, something deemed worthy of his valour in freeing the town from the tyranny of Argent rule. His father had been meant to attend this meeting – he was to present Prince Derek with a chest of silver, as well as the best of the crops from that season.But his father had taken ill – not deathly, but serious enough that his ability to travel to the castle was hampered. The next in line to attend had been Finstock, as the town’s treasurer, but everyone had decided that perhaps Finstock was not the impression of Beacon Hills that they wanted to present. Then Jackson opened his mouth, saying that since the Sheriff was indisposed and this was all his fault for not protecting the town in the first place, that his son should attend the meeting.It was not the boon that many thought it represented – it was well known that if he was feeling irritable, Prince Derek was as liable to kill the messenger as accept a tribute. Literally. He held no love for Beacon Hills – his time kept prisoner there had ensured that. Even though the citizens had been unaware of his imprisonment, many felt that they were being tarred with the same brush as the Argents, and as such Prince Derek would not look upon them favourably. Hence the tribute.Stiles had hoped that someone would speak up for him – he was pleased that his father was not in this position, but that didn’t mean he wanted to volunteer for his own death. But no – all of those in positions of authority had been unwilling to risk their own necks, and enough people were happy for the chance to rid themselves of his presence – Jackson’s idea was jumped on and expanded, until Stiles found himself here, in front of the huge double doors that led to the palace, flanked by guards, and followed by Harris as the town’s senior representative as well as servants carrying the silver and other gifts that were being offered in the hope that Prince Derek didn’t simply raze the town to the ground.Stiles tugged at the hem of his doublet before running his finger around the tight neckline. He wished that he had been allowed to wear his own clothes but it had been the general opinion that he needed to make the best impression possible and so he was wearing Jackson’s cast-offs. The clothing was the richest he had ever worn on his body, and he was as surprised as everyone else when putting them on gave him a demeanour of almost grandeur – his lanky frame somehow became lean and muscular; his shoulders more than broad enough to fill the material, his legs long and powerful. More than one young maiden had given him a surprised look but he wasn’t interested.Not in the maidens anyway.The doors in front of him opened slowly, two footmen pulling them inwards so that the splendour of the throne room was fully displayed for him. He tried not to stare around in slack-jawed awe but it was difficult – the room was stunning, the marble floor echoing beneath the footsteps he took without thought.Finally having taken his fill of the beautiful space, he stared at the throne at the far end of the room, aghast to realise that the talk of Prince Derek having a pet lion were indeed true – it was chained (hopefully) next to the immense golden chair, it’s lazy yawn displaying far too many teeth for Stiles’ comfort. He stumbled forward, desperately trying to control his breathing.The tales of Prince Derek’s beauty had not been false – it was easy to see why the Lady Katherine had decided that he was to be hers. His tanned skin was clear and smooth, only the heavy shadow from his neatly kept beard marring its’ look. As Stiles got closer, he could see the ever-changing green-brown-gold eyes taking in every aspect of his appearance. It was impossible to tell what Prince Derek thought of this him – his gaze was steady, his expression blank, absolutely nothing being given away.As he reached the base of the stairs that led to the throne, Stiles remembered his instructions, bowing as low as humanly possible and waiting for permission to stand.“Who’s this?” The voice was unexpected – lower, softer.“Prince Derek – the principality of Beacon Hills would like to present you with this tribute in recognition of your valour in rescuing it from the clutches of the Argents,” Harris intoned from behind Stiles and he struggled to hold back his instinctive desire to slap the words out of the man’s mouth. Harris was a lickspittle, desperate to be noticed but not willing to be the only one attending this audience with the Prince. “We understand that you may require proof of our intentions to live peacefully under your rule and as such, we offer you the son of our Sheriff to hold as hostage.”“What?!” Stiles turned and faced Harris in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing. “I never agreed to – ““SILENCE!” Stunned into silence, Stiles turned to see that Prince Derek had arisen from his throne, the lion following in his footsteps as he moved gracefully down the steps until he was stood directly in front of Stiles. Biting his lip, Stiles stood stock still in terror as the lion sniffed at his feet and legs before rubbing its’ giant head against his thigh. “I apologise for his outburst, your Majesty, I can arrange for his tongue to be removed if you so desire – in fact, I would recommend it! He is often undisciplined and prone to speak without permission.”“How incredibly barbaric,” Derek said quietly as he circled around Stiles, assessing him from every angle. “You would give one of your sons to me with no knowledge of what I might choose to do. And your offer – I wonder, how is it that you are not offered as tribute?”“What – me, no, I am just – your majesty, obviously – I – ““Oh do be quiet – your voice makes me long for a blade to sever your twisted, barbed tongue from your mouth. You may go,” Derek replied, not glancing in Harris’ direction.“Does that include me?” Stiles asked hopefully, still ramrod straight as the big cat continued to rub its’ giant head all over his lower limbs. Derek came to a standstill in front of him, one large hand reaching out and tugging Stiles’ chin up slightly so that they were looking directly into each others’ eyes. Stiles gasped when their eyes met, captured not only by the beauty of the man looking at him but also by the obvious lust that was in his eyes.“Oh no, my pretty – I think I might finally have found a tribute worthy of my attention,” Derek said, his thumb stroking Stiles’ jawline. “And it would appear that my pet likes the way you smell. I think we can definitely find a use for you.” Releasing Stiles’ chin, Derek turned away and gestured to a servant. “Have him fed and washed and brought to my room – it would appear that Beacon Hills may have earned a stay of execution – for now.”Gulping, Stiles could do nothing but stumble after the servant that appeared in his line of vision, his last sight Harris hurrying from the room as he found himself left behind to who knew what fate.
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