[~Madame~]

UPD2
я совсем забыла об истории, а там уже столько всего!
увы не могу сейчас выложить всё, потому даю ссылкой
продолжение читать тут и там же ссылки на предыдущие части


UPD

эту сцену она решила не рисовать

+++

Derek leaped to the side to avoid Isaac’s quick blade to his legs. By Jupiter, the lad was fast. Derek knew he was faster though, stronger. He had to contain the wolf within him with such specters though, and any inhuman displays of strength would be questioned. Though… He glanced up at Kate Argent, her smile as sharp as his blade. Though he suspected some may already know of his family’s secret.

"Fight back!" shouted Isaac, his face terrible with rage.

So Derek did. Their locked blades clanged as they met, the metal scrapping against each other as they pushed forward. Derek pushed forward with his shield, sweeping his sword forward as Isaac was forced back, drawing blood against the youth’s arm.

Derek would not die, but he would not win. He had a destiny before him, a power to be gained, and none would be found at the end of Lady Argent’s leash. But the Emperor could easily demand for Derek to be handed over if the fight was not to his liking. No, he had to show that Isaac was the stronger fighter, the better prize to be won.

He knew that Isaac’s shield was coming, enough force to knock him to the ground, and yet he allowed it to come, knocked onto his back. He saw Isaac’s blade gleam in the sunlight as it flew downward, quick as Diana’s arrow into his chest. He did not resist. He did not fight back. He allowed the blood to choke his lungs.

He looked up to see Isaac’s eyes cloudy with tears. Of course he would be upset. After all, that move? The stance of Isaac’s feet, the grip on his blade? Those were all things Derek had taught the boy himself. He couldn’t help but smile at how strong Isaac had become. The last thing he remembered was feeling the weight of Stiles’ pendant against his throat, before losing himself to darkness.

+++

Oh, but did Stiles’ blood run cold as he saw his gladiator fall to the ground. He wouldn’t believe it. Not when a blade ran through Derek’s chest, not when his mouth became lax, his bloody body lying upon the pale sand. No, this was Stiles’ champion, his soldier, his sword. He could not be dead. Stiles would not allow it.

"Get me a healer!" he shouted to the servants surrounding them. He pointed to the guards. "Get him off the field, now!”

The guards looked towards the Emperor, the old bastard smug and smiling. He nodded graciously, allowing them to rush to Derek’s aid. It was obvious he thought the gladiator dead, and was not displeased with the consequence.

Lady Argent, however, looked as furious as Stiles’ felt. It was obvious who was the victor of this battle, and thus her prize. She looked towards Isaac with thinly veiled contempt as he walked up to her, bowing low.

Stiles’ rushed to meet the guards as they brought Derek into the inner chambers of the gladiator’s ring. He would not let this man die, no. Not this day, not without Stiles’ permission. He would get the finest of healers, the most modern of medicines, the favor of the highest Gods. Whatever it took.

+++

Derek opened his eyes to the sound of quiet sobbing. His entire body ached, the taste of blood clotting his mouth. Glaringly hot pain emanated from his chest. He clenched his fangs to keep from howling, dug his claws into the cold slab beneath him. He would heal, but it was draining him, sucking away at his energy like the deepest pit.

The sobbing stopped, and suddenly Stiles was looking down at him with wonder. “You’re… you’re healing..,” he said, eyes wide, voice awed. Pink was blossomed along his glistening cheeks.

Shit. How was he going to explain this one? Derek tried to keep the blue from bleeding into his eyes, but it was a losing battle. His wolf had to come out for him to heal, and it was useless to stop it. Useless to fight back.

Stiles touched his face, lightly, almost with reverence. “You died. They pronounced you dead, I was there. No heartbeat, no breath…” He bit his lips. “Hades had you in his grasp, and yet now you breath.” He traced his hand along Derek’s chest. “Your skin was torn, but yet now it is healed… What matter of man are you?”

Derek grasped the pendant, now splattered with blood. “A man with the Gods’ good grace, or did you forget?” He chuckled, wincing at how the movement dug deep within his chest. He was not yet fully healed. “And why do you speak of Hades, my Lord? Is not Pluto the God you should be naming?”

Stiles’ smile was weak. “My mother was a noble of Greece, I’ll have you know. And she was the one who told me of the Gods. She said they have many names, and many faces. She said they could be terrible and cruel, yet a man with their favor would find the greatest of glory.”

Derek cupped Stiles’ hand, forgetting the blood and dirt which coated it. “And I have found it, Lordling. Right within my gasp.”

His vision swam as darkness once more took him, Stiles’ amber eyes shining in the firelight the last thing he saw, curiosity sparking within them.

+++

+2

Stiles sighed contentedly as Derek continued to lightly message his shoulders. The gladiator’s hands were strong and calloused, yet surprisingly gentle against the young lord.

"Your neck looks naked without a pendant to grace it," said Derek lowly, rubbing his fingers lightly along Stiles’ skin.

Sties shivered at the touch. “I have a good deal more pendants, if that is to your liking,” he answered with a smirk.

Derek’s hands hesitated but a moment. “No… I much prefer it bare, when we two are alone.” Before Stiles could question the seriousness of the man’s tone, he continued, “But tell me of your household, my lord. My family did not mingle within Rome’s walls often,” and began to once more knead Stiles’ shoulders.

Stiles glanced quickly upwards towards Derek’s pensive face before saying, “The Stilinski family has long been entrusted with the safety of Rome, and for generations we have lead her armies. My father is a celebrated Senator, though perhaps not as wealthy as others. I suspect that’s because he does not take kindly to bribes, as some in the senate do…”

Derek tutted. “I remember that the Lady Stilinski’s death was more mourned within Rome than the Emperor’s wife, if gossip is anything to go by.”

"For once gossip proves true." Stiles’ voice was smug, though quiet. "My mother Claudia was a true Roman, despite her Grecian ancestry. She was beloved by all the city, and her funeral produced more tears than Orpheus’ lyre." His fists clenched, her memory still tinged with the sadness of her parting.

Derek allowed a quiet moment to pass before asking, “And does your father know of your recent purchase, my lord?”

Stiles ducked his head coyly. “Why, I see no reason why I shouldn’t have a soldier to protect me, do you? Bed chambers are often the scenes of assassination, or so I hear.” He laid his hand on the soldier’s lightly, glancing upwards. “You will make sure I sleep well at night, won’t you Derek?”

Derek nodded gravely. “It would be a dishonor to my name if I did any less.” He slid his hands away slowly, making his way to one of the table’s other chairs, easily sitting down.

Stiles eyed him curiously. “You’ll have to be a bit less graceful than that if you want others to believe you are still wounded. Many saw your battle today, and not all are so ready to believe in the Gods quite so quickly as I,” he said, the last statement holding an edge of sarcasm. Stiles didn’t trust in Derek’s story, not completely. But he knew an advantage when he saw one, and Derek’s power, wherever is stemmed from, was an advantage indeed.

Derek merely shrugged. “I will put on an act worthy of Bacchus himself, once the proper audience has been prepared.” He took a sip of wine before adding, “And speaking of audiences, is not Lady Martin usually in your attendance? Your betrothed has been absent from your side all day.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now, do not speak in such jealousy. My betrothed is merely a friend, a foolish childhood love that quickly died. Her family’s wealth simply wishes to have my name, that is all.”

"And you feel no attraction towards the woman? She is quite beautiful."

"Attraction aplenty, but I know a lost case when I see one. She has the handsome Jackson cradled in her hands, and she likes it that way." Stiles grumbled as he sorted his papers. "Between her and Allison, I’m not sure my love life is all too worrying."

‘“Allison?” Derek asked, his tone suddenly hard. “As in the Lady Argent, granddaughter of the emperor?”

Stiles looked up sharply. “Yes, Lady Allison and friend of this household. I may not look kindly upon her family, but the lady is to be treated with honor, is that understood?”

Knowing a useless argument when he sensed one, Derek simply nodded.

"And if you are to live in my household, I suppose you should know what secrets must be contained within it," Stiles continued, papers now left forgotten. "No one must know of Lydia’s love of Jackson, and no one must know of Allison’s love of Scott. Betray that trust and there will be dire consequences for us both."

"Scott? Of what family?"

"Of no family his father is willing to admit to. He’s the bastard son of a man I will not name, and was raised with me like a brother. My father secured him a position as a palace guard, and from there… well, it simply must not be spoken of, the affection between an Argent and a bastard son." He leaned forward on the table and rubbed his hair distractingly. "To be honest I have no notion how it shall turn out, but I will simply support my friends the best I am able."

Derek nodded solemnly. “Sometimes, that is all you can do. A support of a friend is by no means a small gesture.”

Stiles smiled once more. “And shall I always have that from you, my gladiator? The support of a friend?”

Derek leaned forward, his smile dangerous. “Better. You’ll have the support of a soldier.”

++
©







+++

"Father!" Stiles cried out, rushing forward to embrace the man, laughing openly. "Did you defeat the enemy in but a week? Last I heard you were expected to be outside the city walls for a month."

"Peaceful means were thankfully found. Now let me take a look at you." Lord Stilinski took his sons shoulders in his hands, glancing up and down. "Well, you’re in one piece, which is more than I expected. Though as for your belongings…" He tapped his son’s chest. "Where is the pendant I gifted you?"


Stiles at least had the decency to blush. “Ah, well… about the pendant.” He flashed a smile. “I thought it best for another.”


"Lady Martin?" his father inquired with a raised brow.

"Not precisely…"

Just at that moment, Derek, who had been standing a few feet away, stepped forward. “That honor belongs to me, Lord Stilinski.”

"And who is making such a claim?" asked the lord, his eyes suddenly cast in suspicion.

"A new soldier for the household!" Stiles exclaimed, his smile over bright. "And my personal protector, I’ve decided. Hopefully I am old enough to decide my own protector?"

"Perhaps not old enough to forgo asking my permission, however. And avoiding telling me his name does not help me think you a man worthy of such decision," Lord Stilnski added sternly.

Derek saluted. “Lord Stilinski, I am Derek, formerly of the Hale house.”

The lords gaze grew sharp. “The one who was found guilty of his family’s arson?”

Derek hesitated at that, looking clearly lost with how to respond.

"Found guilty after Lady Argent’s claim," Stiles huffed, placing his hand on Derek’s shoulder. "I can think no situation more grounded in an unfair ruling. I will be claiming Derek’s good name back, once I have received the documents of the case."

Derek seemed startled at the claim, looking at the hand on his shoulder with surprise.

Lord Stilinski looked upon such intimate handling with suspicion until his son removed his hand, and turned to Derek. “I have heard many rumors of you, Derek. Much violence, much anger, and not much good. Who am I to entrust you with my son?”

"You know me as a man of violence, but that is a soldier’s work," Derek countered, opening his hands. "You know me as a man of anger, which is true when I am in a battle. Can you claim any other feeling, for a man fighting for his life? And rumors are but that. Allow me to show my worth as a soldier at your household, before you turn me away.”

The lord looked no less suspicious, but he nodded solemnly. “I will allow you to do so, and only on your family’s good name. Should my son not prove your innocence, or should you fail in your duties, the gladiator’s ring is not all you should fear in consequence.” He stepped forward and gave a hard smile, his voice growing low. “And though my son may seem quite friendly towards you, never forget your place within my house. You will not touch my son, do I make myself clear?”

"Too late for that," Stiles muttered under his breath, too quiet for his father to hear.

Derek heard though, and it took all his will to suppress a smile. “As clear as the springs of Fontus, my lord.”
©



продолжение этой истории

и дальше!

Isaac was not of the house of Lahey, because there was no house of Lahey. He was a servant’s son, and a servant himself until his father’s murder. When the blame had been laid upon his head he had denied it, begged and pleaded for the justice that the courts had so often boasted of. But he had found none. He had no gold to give, no bribes to hand out, and so he had been thrown within the gladiator’s ring.

But Isaac was not weak. He had grown up fighting for scraps. He had been Lord Jackson’s sparring partner since the brat was a child, and while Isaac was never allowed to win, he always allowed himself to learn. Had wielded a blade deftly in hopes of one day leaving his poor existence for greatness untold. And now he was wielding a sword against the only man to show him kindness since he had been accused of his father’s murder.

"I don’t want to kill you, Derek, but I will," Isaac warned under his breath, the hot sun beating down upon them both. "I did not fight all these months to die now."

Derek said nothing, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took a fighting stance.

What did the man want? Victory and a chance with the Emperor’s household? Lady Argent was renowned for her beauty, but she was also infamous for her ruthlessness. And she had, after all, accused Derek of his murders. But would that not be the best position for revenge? By her side?

And then there was Stilinski. A beautiful boy with a quick mind, if Isaac remembered the gossip right. Derek had spent a night with the lord, but had refused to speak further of it. Was that Derek’s goal? To be the plaything of a senator’s son? To spend his night warming a bed?

Isaac glanced up at the spectators, wondering what he wanted for himself. Emperor Argent was not a kind ruler, and Isaac doubted he would be a kind master. Lady Argent, quite frankly, scared him. But perhaps, within the Argent household, Isaac would gain a chance at glory, a spot at the Gods’ table…

And perhaps a chance to see the Lady Allison again, came an unbidden thought at the back of his mind. He clenched his sword and banished such thoughts. He would try not to die, first.

 

©

запись создана: 21.08.2013 в 00:22

@темы: Teen Wolf

Comments

[The Flower Queen]

Оооооо... но ведь там бои насмерть?

[~Madame~]

Her Majesty Queen,
дааа....ждем дальше и грызем ногти!

[The Flower Queen]

О, она там выложила текстовое продолжение, и сразу после битвы кусок. Жаль, я хотела увидеть как она нарисует поединок с Айзеком.

[~Madame~]

Her Majesty Queen,
я видела...надеюсь на рисунок и вместе всё выложу

[The Flower Queen]

Ооооо... Папа Стилински как всегда неподрожаем)))
Это ничего, что я тут флудю восторженно?

[~Madame~]

Her Majesty Queen,
папа аааааааа я так его ждала!))) ыыыы, блин я хочу что бы это не заканчивалось)))
конечно можно!)) я очень "ЗА!" флуд в своё дневнике