thealphasspark:

Of Political Arrangements & Romantic Gifts

Explicit
25589 words
Sterek
By @areiton / Areiton

The wedding of Governor Derek Hale to the beloved Prince Stiles Stilinski of Beacon is the first of its kind, after the war. The first Alpha werewolf to marry one of the recently deposed aristocracy.

It’s for the good of their people. It’s an arrangement, one Stiles loathes. But as Stiles learns more about werewolves and his grumpy husband. As Derek watches his proud, clumsy prince– Maybe an arrangement isn’t all it can be.

Maybe what’s good for the people can be exactly what both of them need.

“Governor Hale,” he says, tilting his head just a little, not quite baring his neck for the werewolf, but a gesture of respect nonetheless.

“Highness,” Derek murmurs and–shockingly–does the same.

Stiles blinks, and Derek nods at the chairs. His valet has settled near the door, and Scott is alert, but not stirring, not coming near. Stiles seats himself in his favorite chair and the governor halts redirects to the couch that Stiles knows is uncomfortable and stiff.

“Have you considered my proposal?” he asks, and Stiles is struck by the startlingly soft voice, higher than it should be, almost shy.

He wants to drag conversation from this man, just to hear every nuance of his musical voice, and–Stiles blinks. He hates him. He’s hated Derek since they received word he would be inhabiting the Palace as governor and the king and his court were expected to vacate and renounce their titles.

This man took everything from his father, from his family and he hates him.

“I suppose I’d need to hear it before I dismiss it,” Stiles says, and Derek’s gaze snaps up to him, startled. “The King is not a messenger boy, Governor. If you have something to ask me–ask.”

Derek blinks and his mouth opens, distractingly wet and pink. There is a flush in his cheeks and in the tips of is ears. “I–I proposed an alliance between the royal family and myself.”

Stiles goes still. Scott is still murmuring to Liam, hasn’t quite filtered those words down to what they mean. But Stiles–who has known since he was old enough to declare his love for Lady Lydia what an arranged marriage was and that he was destined for one–Stiles knows what that means. And he thought he was long past this, that the war and the Alpha Council and his meaningless fucking title had made this a long distant worry that would never be his reality.

And yet.

Derek looks uncomfortable and anxious and Society dictates he should redirect the conversation until the discomfort has passed.

But Stiles has always been an especially bad prince with very little regard for the rules of Society, and he blurts out, shocked and disbelieving, “You want to marry me?”

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