Wild Creatures

Part 1

The treaty is signed while Stiles is being laced into his wedding corset. Ink splatters parchment as a maid pulls the ribbons, tighter and tighter. Stiles' breath and future are taken away, all to save a village. He is a sacrifice more than a bride. The maid assists in fixing a choker around Stiles throat. Her hands are cold despite the roaring fire in the grate. The choker is a string of blood red rubies, they reflect the firelight with a wet shine like an open wound.

Both sides shake hands as a show of good faith, while in another room the maid places the elaborate veil upon Stiles head. It is a deer skull with white lace draped over the antlers. It is a reminder that Stiles is the weaker of the species here, the delicate prey at the mercy of his new predator family. Stiles isn't fooled.

Stags gore their attackers.

Stiles is led to the chapel, gliding through the halls with only the rustle of taffeta and silk to announce his presence. He has not met his husband-to-be. He doubts that his betrothed will be kind. Since before Stiles was born, his village have been at war with the beasts who come from the forest. Now a compromise has been reached, an orphan with no prospects in exchange for peace.

The chapel is full of monsters, human and forest beast alike. All those involved in making this peace treaty a reality. The organ begins to play, heavy notes to match Stiles heavy heart. His betrothed stands before the altar, dressed in fine scarlet robes hemmed with gold. Elegant twisted horns protrude from brown hair, and as Stiles is led closer, he notices how the monsters' hands are pitch black and tipped with claws. Ice blue eyes regard Stiles with the same appreciation wolves give lambs who have wandered away from the safety of the flock.

Stiles is no lamb. He bares his teeth at his betrothed, but only gets an indulgent smile in response. The ceremony is quick, each party cutting their thumbs to press a bloody thumbprint beside their scrawled signatures. A priest murmurs ancient rites while waving his hands over them and then its over. Stiles' new husband, Peter the creature had scrawled on the dotted line, takes Stiles by the elbow in order to lead him from the chapel. The grip is firm but does not hurt.

A carriage the colour of soot, drawn by skeletal horse awaits them. The driver has a battered top hat pulled low to obscure their face. They open the carriage door before scrambling up the side to the driver's seat with jerky movements like a spider. Peter helps Stiles up the carriage steps, making sure Stiles' veil doesn't get caught on anything. The elders of Stiles village, the ones that signed Stiles future away watch from the chapel entrance, lips pursed and expressions grim. They clearly do not expect this treaty to last long, nor do they trust that Stiles will uphold his end of the bargain. Perhaps Stiles thinks, you should have sacrificed your own children if you wanted someone more compliant .

The door shuts behind Peter with a soft click. Stiles presses himself into the corner furthest away from Peter, who seemingly sensing Stiles discomfort, elects to sit in the opposite corner. Outside, a whip cracks. The wheels of the carriage begin to turn and the vehicle shoots forward. Stiles grabs hold of armrest, trying to wedge himself in as the carriage whips around a corner. Peter is unaffected. He folds his hands across his stomach, looking out the window with mild disinterest.

"Whilst I imagine neither of us are particularly excited about this prospect," Peter says, still looking out of the window, "I hope we can come to some kind of arrangement and perhaps even learn to tolerate one another."

This is the first time Stiles has heard Peter speak. His voice is rich and sonorous, it reminds Stiles of stepping inside a well-heated house after trekking through the snow to get there. Stiles says nothing in return, concentrating on not throwing up as the carriage plunges into the woods.

---

The war began when the humans cut down the first trees to construct their village. They ignored the subsequent warnings, they scoffed at the offers of diplomacy and conversation.

And so, that's when bloodshed became the only method of communication either side cared to engage in.

---

The monsters throw a huge celebration, though Stiles presumes it is because the war has come to an end rather than their King getting married. Stiles slumps in his chair, idly poking his food with his fork. He's still in his wedding clothes, hyper aware of the confines of his corset and the stag teeth digging into his scalp. He's elected to keep the veil in front of his face to at least shield him from the eyes of those surrounding. Peter leans over form his seat to whisper in Stiles' ear.

"You should eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't think you'll get very far by starving yourself..."

"This isn't a protest," Stiles hisses, pushing his plate away, "I'm not trying to make a point, I'm anxious, it affects my stomach."

Peter leans back, surveying those making merry beyond their table. The music has a heavy beat, the air is perfumed in such a way that Stiles feels heavy and sluggish. A maid appears at Peter's side, he murmurs something to her before she scurries away. Peter gets up from his chair, waving away queries from those nearby.

"Come along," Peter says, offering his arm for Stiles to take. Stiles ignores him, getting to his feet and gesturing that Peter lead the way. They walk down a stone corridor lit by flickering torches, before ascending a spiral staircase. When Peter turns to make sure Stiles is keeping up, the fire light reflects off of his eyes, revealing flecks of gold within the endless blue.

When they reach the top of the stairs Peter opens a carved wooden door, revealing a large bedroom. There's a messy desk in front of a large window; it's littered with bits of parchment, assorted quills and half empty bottles of ink. The bed has an intricate carved headboard, some kind of flowering tree. There are small side tables either side of the bed, the one on the right is piled high with leather bound books. At the opposite side of the room is a vast fireplace, in front of which are two plush red armchairs. To the left of the fireplace, hanging against the wall is a copper bathtub.