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The beginning is impossible to pin down. Just when you know what began everything, there must have been something before even that to have sparked the next event. All that is important is that in the beginning there were Argents and Hales. And since the beginning Argents have hated Hales, and the Hales have always hated Argents in kind. The never ending skirmishes between the dynasties resulted in untold kidnappings, murders, and maimings. Deplorable acts of violence and intrigue were committed with only the barest of censure from the other Great Houses. The Great Houses have always had their own concerns.
Of those concerns, the most important was that the Spice was plentiful. The Spice was life. The Spice expanded consciousness and gave way to the greatest of scientific achievements. From human computers to space travel, it was all as a result of the Spice. Space navigators used the orange Spice gas to allow them to fold space and transport ships from one corner of the universe to the other in moments. The Houses Argent and Hale could destroy each other so long as the mining was not interrupted. The Spice must flow.
The Spice was mined on only one planet in the known universe- a small, desolate planet, Arrakis. With no precipitation ever, this planet was a barren desert, and it was more commonly known as Dune.
It was on this small, yet crucial planet that the feud between Argent and Hale brought the known universe to its knees.
Of course it was all a trap. She could only suspect how far up it went. The emperor, Martin IV, himself might have played a role since it was his decree that send the Hales to Arrakis.
They had known going in that the Argents would not easily give up their control over Dune, but never had she imagined that they would be overrun! How was this possible? Peter was the best Master of Assassins- he'd seen through all Argent traps before. But somehow he'd failed. They'd all failed, and now her family were being put to the fucking sword.
She moved through the halls at a dead run, her feet and hands pounding on the smooth marble floors. Talia Hale was spurred on by the desperate need to get to her husband and children. She had the irrational feeling that if they could just stay together, they'd manage to make it through. A sudden, sharp pain to her chest stumbled her in her tracks, and she gasped. Not a bullet. That, she could have shrugged off. Even a wolfsbane bullet she could ignore for a bit, but this was far more insidious.
Talia gripped the cylindrical body of the hunter seeker and pulled it from her body, dropping it to the ground with a bitten off curse. Too late. The poison contained within the remote controlled syringe was already working through her system. Numb, she crumpled to the ground as the drug quickly paralyzed her completely from the neck down.
The sound of a soft footfall drew her attention and she looked up into her betrayer's face, "Alan?" Her eyes filled with tears as she looked on his familiar face. With his dark clothes and skin he'd been hidden neatly in the shadows of the hall. She hadn't seen him until it was far, far too late.
The imperial conditioning meant he should have been so incapable of causing harm that he would be cleared to treat the emperor himself. That he'd betrayed her and her family was incomprehensible.
"Why?" She wanted to reach out to him. To shake him for answers or gut him for his betrayal. The sounds of death and dying that echoed from the battle above made her lean more toward gutting him.
"I've brought the Hales down." Dr. Alan Deaton admitted solemnly as he moved closer, his steady hands quickly searching through the bag he'd slung over his shoulder. He looked as calm as ever, his voice steady, his beard neatly trimmed, and his uniform immaculate. You would never know he had just engineered the murder of an entire family.
It was only when he knelt at her side that the facade fell, and then she couldn't tear her gaze away from the stricken expression on his face. He appeared almost as destroyed as she felt, but Deaton was always so good at masking emotion and she couldn't bring herself to care. As quickly as it came, his grief was smoothed over again into placid calm.
"I mean to kill someone." Deaton said softly. "Not you, Talia. You were already dead." There was only vague sadness in his voice despite what he said. Only the barest hint of regret. Alan Deaton was a man who'd made his choices, and he'd chosen to sacrifice Talia and her family to achieve his ends.
Then he reached into her slack mouth with a small pair of pliers and removed one of her back molars. The pain was instant and shocking, but before a new tooth could grow in its place, he was pressing a synthetic replica into her tender gum. More tears leaked from her eyes as he patted her cheek. "He will want you close. To lord his victory over you." She didn't need to ask who he was talking about. Baron Gerard Argent was of course the one he spoke of.
"He will want to see your death up close. You will be paralyzed by the Kanima venom, but you can still attack!" Deaton squeezed her hand, and though she couldn't move, she could feel the pressure. He slipped the Hale family ring off her hand and held it in front of her face. "For you heir." He promised before cocking his head. Footsteps were coming swiftly. Argents.
"One sharp bite on the tooth and a hard exhale. The poison is fast acting and he just needs to inhale a little." He squeezed her hand hard, his eyes fevered and mad was the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness, "Remember the tooth!"
"I know you're awake, Derek."
Derek forced his eyes open, blinking to clear his vision. He'd been conscious as they'd moved him from his bedroom to the floor of the main reception hall. He hadn't been able to move since getting hit with the hunter seeker- but he'd seen as the Argent troops managed to overrun the Hale stronghold. He'd been powerless to help as his father, his uncle... even highly trained military men like his friend, Scott McCall, went down under a mass of Argent stun batons.
He hadn't seen any of them get up again.
For some reason he and Laura had been brought here unharmed. That wasn't anything to be relieved about. Argents were not squeamish about killing any Hale, even children were not safe. His cousins, Peter's children, had barely been eating solid food when an Argent ambush killed them along with their mother. Whatever reason they were brought here, it wasn't good. Derek tried to move, but the restraints were too tight. In addition, the lingering effects of the drug rendered him vulnerable.
His gaze reluctantly focused on the admittedly beautiful face of Kate "The Beast" Argent. She beamed and he could see the intense glow of insanity in her blue eyes. Her golden hair and fair skin couldn't hide the famed Argent depravity. She wasn't called "The Beast" without good reason.
"That's much better, puppy!" She smirked down at him, rubbing her thumb over his cheek. She chuckled when he tried to flinch away as much as the wolfsbane reinforced restraints would allow.
He heard a snarl from his left- it had to be Laura! He flopped his head over to see her, and was immediately disappointed to see that she was even more heavily bound than he was. Her mouth was muzzled and her body was wrapped with ropes and chains. Otherwise she looks unharmed- dark hair unbound and flowing over the marble floors. Tied up and gagged, she was furious and glaring daggers at Kate Argent. She looked like their mother. Still those were not the bindings for a beta... those were the kind of bindings used for an alpha! His heart began to speed up. Were was their mother? Where was their alpha?!
Laura must have heard his rising panic because then her hazel eyes flashed blue. No. Not an alpha.
Not yet, anyway.
"Over here!" Derek's head snapped to the other side as Kate sharply backhanded him. Then her fingers dug into his jaw and adjusted his gaze as she liked. Though human, her sharpened fingernails felt like claws as they waggled him back and fourth slightly. "That's right. You listen when your betters are speaking." She rubbed her hand over his cheek, smug and confident, even though she did not allow her fingers anywhere near his mouth.
She knelt over him, left knee resting on the floor beside his hip, before she swung her right leg over his body. "I thought of so many things.." He could still hear the sounds of battle in the background while she talked. The sounds of Argents killing Hales. Straddling him now, Kate Argent pressed her palms down on his chest, her smile wide and terrifying. "There were so many things I wanted to do with your filthy, mongrel body." She sighed, rolling her hips down against him, and he shuddered, sickened at the stink of her arousal. The black leather of her Argent regalia made disturbing noises as she shifted and moaned, and he wanted to close his ears and eyes and pretend this wasn't happening.
He tried to turn his head, but she gripped his chin and held his face still. Her fingernails dug into the skin of his jaw as she rubbed herself against his body. He could hear Laura snarling in the distance, but he was frozen and left staring into the Beast's eyes until she shuddered and sighed above him. "But no." She grinned and slid off his body, patting his cheek like he was a dull child. "It's better that you die in the belly of a worm. Monsters killed by a monster- poetic, don't you think?" She gestured sharply to the bound werewolves and the Argent guards stepped closer. "Take them to the desert and leave their bodies for the worms."
A rifle butt struck him hard on the temple, and Kate Argent's triumphant face was the last thing he saw.
He dreamt.
There was a face reflected at him on the surface of a fathomless pool of water. Large eyes, with the otherworldly blue on blue glow that came as a result of a life spent exposed to the Spice. This was a Fremen, one of the native inhabitants of Arrakis. Pale skin dotted with tiny moles, a cute upturned nose, and a sly smile that hinted at so many untold secrets. "Tell me of your home world, Derek."
There was the sound of dripping water and the reflection rippled.
Derek woke, but he would remember the dream and the words that echoed in his ears. Tell me of your home world, Derek.
Gerard Argent was an old man. His aging was slowed considerably due to spice consumption, but even that was no fountain of eternal youth. His hair, what hair he had left, was white and thin. Still, even after living so long, over two hundred years, he only appeared to be in his mid sixties.
None among the Great Houses would ever underestimate Gerard Argent, no matter how aged he appeared. His mind was still sharp and his ambition was legendary. It was no secret to anyone how much he hated the Hales, and he’d publicly made vows to kill Talia and take the Hale signet ring.
Talia was barely clinging to consciousness for the moment and it was a tenuous hold at best. Her vision swam with tears, and the pain of the poison Deaton had injected, in addition to the Kanima venom, racked her body. A small mercy. No matter what Gerard wanted, she was going to die shortly. Hopefully it would happen before he got whatever it is he wanted.
He came to with the humming engine of the ornithopter, the small, short range ships used on Dune, buzzing in his ear. He cleared his vision and looked over to Laura. Her wide, frightened eyes caught his and held. How long had he been out? Where were they? It was really only a short flight to the polar reaches of the deep desert by ornithopter... a place where even their natural werewolf abilities wouldn't save them.
Especially not if they were shot with wolfsbane first.
They needed to get free, but a quick test of his bonds resulted in only frustration. He was shackled far less than Laura, but he was still helpless.
A snort from the Argent guard drew his attention. "Did you hear something?" He remarked to the pilot, "A puppy about to piss itself?"
The pilot chuckled, shaking his head, "I didn't hear a thing." The guard laughed again, knocking Derek's head back against the steel of the ornithopter floor with the butt of his rifle. At least it wasn't a stun baton.
Talia faded in and out of consciousness, this time when she woke tears leaked unchecked from the corners of her eyes.
"Tears?!" Baron Gerard Argent sneered, his hand rubbing roughly over her face, completely disregarding any danger from an alpha's bite. "Who knew bitches could even cry?" He crowed to his gathered attendants and advisers. They all joined in his laughter, as the wisest and longest lived Argent support staff always did.
"Bring in Alan Deaton!" Gerard bellowed, sweeping back from the prone body of the Hale alpha.
The Hale family physician was brought in, limp between two Argent men. He sneered up at the Baron, his face smeared with blood, "Hello Baron." He spat the blood at the Baron's feet.
"Alan Deaton." Gerard paused, "What was the deal...? You'd see your beloved wife again if you gave us the Hales?"
A spark flared in Deaton's eyes, the hope of seeing her again was strong within him. Even after all this time, "She lives?" He lifted his head higher and even tried to stand under his own power.
Gerard gestured and an Argent guard and stabbed him in the back, the poisoned blade going quickly to work. The men that held Deaton released him, allowing him to crumple to the floor. Argents laughed at the man's foolish naiveté. As if they hadn't killed Deaton's wife the moment they had her.
Unexpectedly, Alan Deaton also began to laugh, causing the Argents to fall silent. "You think you've won?" He shook his head, spitting again at Gerard's feet.
Rearing back from the laughing man, Gerard looked to Morrell. "What is he talking about?" She shook her head, not having a suitable answer.
"You don’t think I know what I’ve done? For my wife?!" He died laughing, his body going still.
It took a few moments, but Gerard pulled himself together. One mad physician wouldn't be enough to ruin this, his moment of triumph! He'd beaten the damned Hales once and for all. Talia Hale still mumbled gibberish as she drifted in and out of consciousness. It didn't matter to Gerard, he had what he needed. Now all he wanted was to take the Hale signet ring and throw it in the vaults. Or perhaps he'd wear it on a chain around his neck as a reminder of this day. He could decide later.
He ran his hand then over Talia's hands, searching for the ring. He paused a moment. "Where's the ring?" He turned to his Master of Assassins, "Where is the Hale signet ring?"
Morrell, the human computer, stepped forward. Her face was devoid of all expression as she methodically searched Talia's pockets. All for nothing as the ring was not among her possessions. "This was how she was brought in." She stated blandly.
"You killed Deaton too soon!" Argent yelled, stalking over to Deaton and kicking his corpse. He cursed, infuriated that of all the things that went perfectly- this one small, but important detail had gone wrong!
"She's trying to speak again." Morell observed Talia's mouth moving, though the words were too garbled for her to process.
Gerard moved closer, grasping at the chance that she might reveal where the damned Hale ring might be. But she was only talking nonsense.
"The water. Of my life." Talia's voice was thready and weak as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Useless!" Gerard pushed away from the Hale matriarch, disgusted. He hauled back to kick Deaton's corpse again, but a sudden crunch caught his attention. He turned just in time to see Talia Hale exhale hard into Morrell's face, a yellow smoke enveloping Morrell's head.
The human computer gasped and reared back, but she made no other sound as she fell, dead before she hit the marble floor.
Taking only a moment to reassure himself that he was alive, Gerard had to reevaluate the situation. His Master of Assassins was dead. So was Talia Hale. Gerard cursed and kicked Deaton's body again, infuriated to have lost even at his moment of victory. "Bring in Peter Hale!" He bellowed, pleased only slightly when the men scrambled to fulfill his demand.
It was only a few short minutes before the beaten, bloody figure of Peter Hale was dragged into the room. He wasn't able to stand, his healing factor brought down to human slow thanks to surgical intervention. "Good to see you doing so well after the surgery!" Gerard grinned down into Peter's glare.
"Due to a position in my household opening up, I'm sure you'll be pleased to accept the position of my new Master of Assassins." Gerard grinned as he toyed with the wolfsbane infused plug that pierced and plugged Peter's heart. "Oh- I'm sure you're curious about your new accessory. Don't be upset, everyone gets them here."
He grinned, "Just one tug, and you'll bleed out. Not even your wolf healing would save you, not with the low grade wolfsbane the plug's infused with, keeping you from you more... impressive abilities." He laughed again, arm coming around Peter’s stiff shoulders as if they were old friends.
"Welcome to the family."
Derek's head swam a bit as it healed the concussion, but before he was completely healed another solid wave of pain overwhelmed him. This pain wasn't physical, and there was no way this wound would ever heal. His mother- his alpha was dead.
Laura stifled a mourning howl, and he forced his own to die in his throat as well. He couldn't allow it. Not now, when they were surrounded by enemies. He met Laura's gaze and held it as her eyes flashed red for the very first time. For the first and then the last time.
Suddenly a rush of power invaded Derek's body, the alpha power burned like fire in his veins as it made a home in his bones. He felt it fill him until it felt like he would explode. And then it wasn't only a feeling any more. Derek was exploding with violence. His sudden thrashing shredded the bonds that held him as if they were tissue paper, and he was free before the two Argent men had a chance to defend themselves.
His first strike was against the completely unprepared pilot, his claws slashing the Argent neck down to the bone. He died gurgling on his own blood. The second guard managed to get a shot off, but he barely grunted as he gutted the man before he could even attempt another.
With the immediate threats neutralized, Derek turned to Laura, ripping off her muzzle gag and gasping out, "Mother!" and "Why would you-" before Laura was shouting at him to, "Take control of the fucking 'thopter!"
He pried the Argent corpse out of the pilot seat and took hold of the controls. Ahead of them there was nothing but the vast stretch of barren desert. The largest city on Dune, the capital of Arrakeen, must be somewhere behind them, but that would be no refuge. Not with House Argent having taken back control. Their only safety lay in the desert as insane as it sounded.
Derek didn’t try to change course, distance from the Argents was all they could manage now. Eventually this ‘thopter would be missed, but hopefully by then Derek and Laura could be gone.
The ornithopter was riding a bit low, and Derek pulled back, trying to stabilize. The controls were completely unresponsive. “We don’t have control, we’re going down!” He called over his shoulder to Laura. They were in an unrecoverable nosedive, and there just wasn't anything he could do to stop it. "Brace for impact!" He shouted, trying to give Laura warning.
The impact of the ornithopter hitting the sand was devastating. One bounce- two- with no restraints engaged, they were thrown about the interior of the vehicle as it rolled. Derek felt at least two distinct breaks- his leg and one in his back. Laura was even worse off as she had still been bound and couldn't brace herself at all from the force.
The ship somehow managed to come to a stop on its side, Derek found himself laying across the copilot controls one the tumbling stopped.
"Laura?!" Derek called, coughing to clear his throat. A small electrical fire started up near the pilot seat, and he swore. They might have been able to scavenge something of use from the electronics! But no, they would need to abandon the 'thopter as quickly as possible anyway. There was no time to scavenge. A worm would surely be drawn here.
Laura groaned from somewhere behind him, and he twisted in his seat to try and pinpoint her. "Get me down!" She was half slung over some strange bundles in the back, and he climbed over the seat and Argent bodies to finally release her, his bones already mended enough to walk. The alpha power healed him faster than he ever could have healed those injuries before.
He easily slashed the bindings with his claws, and helped her to sit up. "Where are you hurt?" He helped her move arms and legs, looking out for any obvious breaks. She finally shook her head, "I'm healing... I can move." Her voice was still the authoritative tone he'd grown up being bossed around by, but it no longer held the power to command him. The implications were more than just a little terrifying. Never had he been considered in line to inherit their mother's position. He wasn't prepared for this!
Laura's face twisted, seeing his realization and the imminent freak out. "Get a bullet from the Argent that shot you, idiot. He was using wolfsbane bullets, and you've been poisoned." She paused. "Take all of his bullets, just to be safe." She added. "I'm going to see what can be salvaged from this wreck."
"Why would you..." Derek hesitated asking the question again. Laura had always known she would be alpha. She'd been so proud to be next in line.
"Not now, little brother." She replied, firm but kind. Then she slapped him upside the head. This just wasn't the time to discuss his ascension. How she'd denied her own birthright. How her sacrifice saved them both.
"Right." Derek shook his head and offered Laura one of the bullets, popping it out of the clip. He watched, trying not to think about the pain and poison coursing through his veins as she pried the bullet open, dumping the wolfsbane on the floor of the ornithopter. She managed a snort of amusement as she tore a bit of Argent uniform and let it catch on the electrical fire that steadily burned under the pilot console.
His sister set the fire to the wolfsbane, and it sparked and flared a second before she scooped the hot ashes into her hand and shoved it into his bleeding wound.
The scream was torn from his throat without his permission, but the pain was so overwhelming- even more than when the alpha power settled within him. He thrashed on the floor, trying to bite it back, but to no avail. It wasn't until the wolfsbane was purged and he was healing normally that Derek could catch his breath and sit up.
Laura grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. "We need to go." She threw a bundle at his chest and he caught it automatically. He looked down at the black leather bodysuit. It took only a moment to recognize what they held. Stillsuits. Fremen stillsuits that would harness their movements and preserve their body's water. A human could survive in the deepest desert of Arrakis for weeks with a well fitting and functioning stillsuit. A werewolf could last even longer. "Seems they were a gift." Laura gestured to the small engraved sign of Dr. Deaton on the side of the stillsuit pack. She scowled, and Derek knew that if they weren't lost in the deep desert, where every drop of water mattered, she would have spat at the mention of the traitor who'd injected them with drugs and handed them over to their enemy.
Derek only then noticed the Hale signet ring attached to the strap of his stillsuit. He pulled it off, slipping it onto his little finger. Small gifts, indeed. Derek would have preferred his family to all the rings or alpha power in the world.
They stripped and pulled on the suits, fitting the nose pieces and savaging what little there was that would be useful and they could easily carry. The smoke was beginning to fill the compartment now, and they needed to go. Derek pulled the cargo bay door open, peeling the metal back like it was metal foil, and looked out across the blowing orange sand of the great desert. "We need to get to rock!" He called over the howling of the wind. "The crash probably called a worm- we need to go now." He jumped down onto the sand and pointed off into the distance to a decent sized rock formation. If they could get there, then they would be safe enough to sleep. They’d be safe enough to take a moment to plan.
He helped Laura climb down from the ‘thopter and Derek took a moment to look back at the wreck. The small ship had nearly buried itself, the crash dug a deep rut into the sand. Already, the harsh wind that buffeted them was causing sand to drift over the shining metal. In a few hours the desert would seem as if nothing had happened at all.
“Move it!” Laura called back to him, and Derek nodded grimly. He jammed a thumper into the sand and set it to run. They were standard equipment on ships for just this reason; the mobile percussion devices were used to draw the attention of worms. Give a worm a distraction and try to get to safety.
He focused on the bit of rock off in the distance that was the goal, but in the meanwhile there was a great distance to cover. The orange sand of Arrakis shifted unstably under their feet, and there were no footprints. No prints of any kind that Derek could see. There was nothing but the vast orange desert.
He shuffled his feet, and he knew Laura did the same. But it was difficult to walk without rhythm on shifting sand, and it felt like they’d been walking for hours. Derek frowned at the sand before him. Fine tremors disrupted the sand all around them. He looked over his shoulder to Laura. She met his eyes with a grim nod. A worm was coming. Probably drawn by the crash, it would be tracking their movements by now if it wasn’t deterred by the thumper. There was no choice but to break into a run for the rock. It was the only hope they had.
They broke into a run, shifting to beta form to protect the stillsuits. Luckily the sturdy suits were flexible enough to accommodate running on feet and hands, even if they weren't designed for it. The new stride ate up the ground between them and the rock, and it was a lucky thing too. He heard the shifting sand protest as the worm surfaced. He didn't date to look back, but it had to be huge.
His lungs and hands ached by the time he hit rock. and he didn't even stop then, He didn't stop until he hit the solid wall of rock, and then he clung there. Derek finally turned as Laura hit the wall right beside him. he looked back the way they'd come, his eyes going huge at the monstrous worm that floundered a moment before it burrowed back down below the sand.
"What the-" Laura started, but Derek held his hand up for quiet. He cocked his head, listening. Just above the roar of the wind through the craggy tunnels of rock, he heard a steady 'whomp' of a thumper.
“Another thumper.” He murmured. There were people out there. There were people out there that were close enough to have seen Derek and Laura running for their lives, and who had mercy enough to set a thumper. But would they be new friends or new enemies? They hadn't been on Arrakis long enough to make contact with the notoriously insular Fremen. Who else could it be?
Derek looked at his sister, finally catching his breath. Her eyes were wide, and somehow hopeful. She looked so young and scared, her face streaked with dust and her dark hair tangled around her face. How was he supposed to be the alpha?
"You're going to be fine." Laura said firmly, she was always so good at picking up on his moods. She gripped his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I'm here. You're not alone. We can do this together." He could hear her choke up as well, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to grieve, but he couldn't. He felt numb and overwhelmed with responsibility.
Laura shook her head and blinked the moisture from her own eyes. "Don't let it go to waste." She admonished, her voice raw, but her eyes dry now. "Mother wouldn't have wanted that."
Derek sighed and nodded, taking a moment to pull himself together. They needed food and some water. They needed shelter. They needed a plan. And they needed those things in that order.
He rubbed a hand over his face and slid down the stone wall, coming to sit with his back pressed against the warm stone. His family was mostly dead. He had felt his mother die, and he had no doubt that if she were dead then his father and Uncle Peter were also dead. His best friend, his almost brother, Scott, was also gone. Beaten down under Argent stun batons.
He looked out across the desert through the same hole they’d entered. What was he supposed to do from here? They’d lost everything, and there was no one they could count on. No allies would come forward to aid them now. Not when House Argent had managed to devastate them so thoroughly. He looked down at the Hale signet ring on his hand and twisted it around his little finger. Gerard hadn't gotten the ring, at least.
But it was such a pyrrhic victory; Derek could hardly bring himself to care. Laura pressed to his side, a comforting presence.
“No one will come for us.” He said quietly. “No one but our enemies.”
“Not only your enemies.” A strange voice corrected from right beside him, and Derek whirled. He reacted on pure instinct, gripping the hooded figure by the throat and pinning him against the stone wall before the figure could move.
Derek heard Laura growl and shift to beta form; she stood at his back, dropped into a defensive stance.
And where there was one, there were many. Laura’s growls increased as they were surrounded by more hooded figures. Silent and swift. In moments they were surrounded by figures brandishing long polearms and wicked looking knives. Laura took a swipe, but was pushed back by the distance weapons. Her wound healed, but more slowly than it should. The blades were something unusual, and he didn't look forward to testing their edge.
"Wait!" The figure in his grip called out, his word rang out over the tangle of angry voices, and the figures froze. "Father-“ The hood fell back from the one Derek had pinned and it felt as if the air was stolen from his lungs. He was looking at the face he saw in his dream! Those blue on blue eyes were more arresting in person, and they were definitely glowing. Derek recognized the slight upturned nose and the placement of each small freckle and mark. In real life it was even more devastating to feel warm skin and a swift pulse under his hand. To be able to smell his scent, and know that it was real. He would recognize it anywhere now.
"He is the one I saw in my vision." If Derek had been able to speak, the words would have been stolen from him. Derek was shocked out of beta from, shifting back to human form as he realized he wasn't dreaming. This was really happening.
He’d heard about the spice bringing visions or other unusual effects on certain people. But never before had he experienced anything like that. His grip loosened until he was barely putting pressure on the other man’s neck at all, until it was more a caress than a secure hold.
"I'm Stiles." The Fremen spoke directly to Derek now. "You're not going to hurt my people." He said it with confidence, a smile stretching across his face.
"Derek!" Laura's elbow jabbed Derek hard in the side, breaking him from his stupor. He jumped a bit and threw a quick glare at his sister before he turned back to Stiles. He let his hand fall from Stiles’ neck. "I'm Derek Hale." He replied, still shocked to see this man in real life.
"And I'm his sister, Laura." His sister broke into the silence, casting Derek a worried look. "We crashed- and our family..."
"I know." Stiles interrupted, shaking his head. "I know you're the last." He turned to an older man, the only one who’d continued to approach. This must be the one he'd called his father. He had short, sandy hair, and his blue on blue eyes had lines that indicated he smiled often.
"We need to take them in." Stiles insisted, continuing to talk over the murmurs of the other Fremen. "They're going to save us!" He insisted, gesturing to Derek and Laura.
Derek glanced at his sister, checking her reaction. It seemed to him that it was more like they were the ones being saved. But Laura was paying attention to the discussion, and not at all to him.
"Stiles," The older man sighed and shook his head. "If you'd let me speak." He arched an eyebrow and only continued when the other Fremen, Stiles, nodded his head silently. “You may call me Stilinski. I'm the leader of this sietch." He gestured around the gathered Fremen. Their expressions were all blandly attentive, and Derek wondered if they’d all somehow studied under a human computer. That sort of emotionless mask was impressive and something that Derek had never quite managed to achieve.
"We are nearly one hundred strong, and while space is growing dear-" Stiles interrupted with an urging cough and a series of expressive grimaces, "I would welcome you to join us." Stilinski finished with a groan, waving his hand. "Stiles has already adopted you it seems, so my approval is barely a technicality. You both shall have sanctuary. Your water will mingle with our water."
The older man held out his hand in welcome. "Come, let's get you settled..." Derek shook his hand, giddy with the possibility of relative safety. Stilinski pulled him close for an instant and spoke quietly, “Be grateful that my son’s visions are never wrong. If he hadn’t spoken for you, I would kill you where you stand for putting a violent hand on him.”
It hadn’t been the most auspicious introduction, and he was well aware that there might be bad feelings over it.
“If he could subdue me, then he could subdue any of us!” Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes, “We need him to help train us, so let him go and stop trying to be intimidating.” Stiles grabbing Derek by the wrist and tugged him away from Stilinski, down a set of steps carved into the rock. They looked so natural from where he and Laura had been before; they hadn’t seen them at all. "Come on! Hurry up or they'll get the feast started without us!"
The steps led down into a man-made tunnel, completely invisible from above. Derek had to pause and take it all in. The walls were smooth stone, and must have been carved from the living rock. He couldn’t begin to imagine how long it had taken. How many generation of Fremen toiled to make this secret stronghold?
Stiles let him linger at the door for a moment, before tugging at his right wrist. He felt a touch on his left arm, and Laura was smiling slightly as she gripped his other wrist, and together she and Stiles pulled him through the doorway.
Once they were within the sietch it was nearly a rabbit warren. Completely underground, the tunnels and rooms were illuminated by strange phosphorescent lights that hung at strange and interesting angles. It didn’t seem to make sense at first, but then he realized it was a form of defense. Dark shadows were cast in unnoticeable corners, giving anyone within a safe vantage point. He bet that under usual circumstances there would be a guard posted in each of those convenient blind spots.
Along with the stark practicality and strategic planning, there was an unusual beauty too. The hard stone was carved with intricate runes, and the way the light fell brought the craftsmanship into sharp relief. He wondered what they meant. If they were just for aesthetics, or if they were words. He had a feeling that Stiles would know.
Their rooms were right next to each other, and it was probably by design. Stiles seemed to know so much, it made perfect sense that he would know how Derek and Laura wouldn't be able to handle being separated by much distance.
They explored each room together, Stiles not making comment as they did a thorough sweep for anything dangerous. He seemed to expect it, really. Occasionally Derek would look up and find Stiles was watching him intently. Before he would become uncomfortable, or break the silence to ask what he was looking at, the other man would look away. Derek would feel his gaze again in a few moments though.
He was pretty sure he heard a quiet groan when he stretched out on top of what would be his bed. He held back a grin as Laura snorted and rolled her eyes. It was unfair to tease, he supposed... but then, Stiles hadn't been the one to complain, and this time when Derek looked over, Stiles didn't turn away until Laura interrupted, "So, isn't there a feast to go to?"
Derek was half tempted to be annoyed, but he heard Laura's stomach actually rumble and he felt ashamed. He needed to look out for his pack better. He was hungry too, but he'd been ignoring it. His sister was right. They needed to eat more than he needed to flirt.
They didn't have any possessions really, so once they decided it was definitely time for food Stiles again led them through the winding tunnels to a new area they hadn't yet seen. It was a large hall carved into the rock as the rest of the sietch was, but it was possibly more amazing than any other man made structure he'd seen. It must have taken generations to complete this work.
Large columns lined the sides of the hall, supporting the weight of the stone ceiling. More runes were inscribed along the walls in much the same style as he'd seen before. Derek was certain now that it must be some form of writing he was unfamiliar with.
"Sightseeing later, I promise!" Stiles grumbled, hurrying Derek along to the front of the room past the gathered crowd of Fremen that now watched he and Laura with open interest. Everyone else in the sietch must have already been gathered. And all eyes were on he and Laura as they were brought up to stand beside Stilinski. At least Stiles remained at his side.
"Tonight we feast!" Stilinski announced, the natural acoustics of the hall amplifying his voice. Even those in the very back of the crowd must have heard him. "And welcome our new members." An enthusiastic cheer rose among the crowd, and it was nearly deafening to Derek's ears, until Stilinski raised his hand for silence.
"But your names..." Stilinski went on. "You cannot remain as Derek and Laura Hale, I think they are too unsafe at this time." He said it gently, but it still stung. Derek didn't want to be anything but what he was. He was a Hale, dammit! "Stiles says you have much to teach us. So you shall be known as Muad'Dib, instructor-of-boys." He looked to Laura, "And you shall be known as Alia."
Derek glanced at his sister and even without his senses he knew that this renaming didn't sit well with her either. They’d already lost their family. To lose their family name was just another blow, but it hurt. Before he could protest, Stiles was bumping his arm against Derek's. "Everyone has two names... a name of adulthood that is used freely, and a secret name which only the members of your sietch will ever know or use." His tone was heavy with implication, and Derek smiled as he understood.
"Then, can our sietch names remain Derek and Laura Hale?" He asked Stilinski, hoping that this would be an acceptable compromise.
The older man smiled sadly, the lines around his face crinkling. "That will be just fine." He agreed. "Now go get some food before Stiles eats it all."
Stiles yelped an affronted, "Hey!" Before he rolled his eyes and led the way to the food. There was a great variety and more than enough for everyone. Derek loaded his plate, feeling only a little guilty for his gluttony, but then he saw the two plates Stiles loaded up and felt a bit better. After they'd gotten their food, Stiles seemed to melt away, allowing Derek and Laura to move freely and make conversation with whomever they wanted.
Laura, always the more sociable one, seemed at ease already. She stood at the center of a group of Fremen, talking and gesturing to emphasize her points. And through her various cues, he could tell she wasn't faking her relative good mood. That was positive, at least. He looked down into his plate of food and picked at it.
A few brave Fremen came to him and made introduction, but they all seemed to sense he wasn't up to a lot of interaction just yet and left almost as soon as they came.
"Derek!" Stiles' voice was quiet but unmistakable, and Derek could easily hear it over the sounds of celebration. "Psst, Derek!" Stiles managed to pop up from behind him, his head poking over Derek's shoulder. "You want to see something amazing?"
Everyone but Stiles seemed to know he wasn't up to socialization. But that wasn't fair because with Stiles it was different. Yes. Yes- every affirmative to seeing whatever Stiles waned to show him.
His heartbeat must have agreed, because he heard Laura snort quiet amusement and turn away from him to return to the festivities.
He managed to keep his calm front for Stiles, replying, "Yes, alright."
From Stiles' grin he had to wonder if maybe he had hidden nothing at all. "Excellent, then come on!" He grabbed Derek's hand, causing Derek to consider if heart attacks are a thing that can happen to werewolves, and tugged him out a side door.
They moved through winding tunnels in near dark, and a few times it was only Derek's heightened senses that saved him from embarrassing himself. His senses and Stiles' sure grip on his hand.
"You'll get used to the tunnels in no time!" Stiles promised, looking over his shoulder while simultaneously leading them around a blind corner.
"I'm not so sure..." Derek grumbled. He hadn't seen another soul. Was everyone at the celebration, or were these tunnels so disused? And did he really care? He tightened his hold on Stiles' hand, linking their fingers.
Stiles looked back and grinned wider, he squeezed Derek's hand and laughed, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "So sour." He murmured with a shake of his head. He stopped them in front of a seemingly ordinary wall and pushed against it. The wall moved easily under his hands, revealing a hidden stairwell. "Just a little farther."
They moved more carefully down the twisting stairs, the man made steps and walls carved from the hard desert rock.. His free hand traced along the wall, his other hand clutching Stiles'. In the dark Derek lost track of how far they'd descended.
He wasn't concerned with the destination, not when Stile's hand was warm in his own. It was almost completely unlike him, but he was completely at ease with Stiles. He was focused on the other man, watching how he moved and how he smelled. But then his nose twitched at an unexpected scent that lingered on the still air. He took a few more steps and he swore his fingertips felt... moisture? "What in the...?"
"Walk a bit more carefully, these last few steps can be slick." Stiles warned just moments before they left the narrow staircase. He pulled a phosphorescent light stick from his pocket and held it up, the glow illuminating the immediate area.
Derek gaped as he looked around the large chamber. It was so vast he couldn't even see where it ended, Stiles' light didn't illuminate the entire area. But what he could see was a vast underground reservoir, water lapping at the stone landing where they stood.
"There are dozens more just like this." Stiles murmured, his voice loud in the vast space. "There is a Fremen proverb... Arrakis was created as a test. Only the strongest survive the environment, and only the stubborn thrive." He grinned, his hand holding tightly to Derek's. "We have survived everything. Desert, beast, and war. It is our time now to assert our independence. And soon we will change the face of Arrakis."
"Without the desert, there will be no Spice." Derek pointed out neutrally.
"There may be some desert yet left." Stiles admitted, "We don't know what the resulting end will be." He shrugged, "But if there is no desert... then damn the Spice. It has brought the Fremen nothing but hardship and blood."
It was true, Derek had to nod in agreement. The Fremen have been at the mercy of whomever the Emperor put in charge of Dune. And for the last few decades that has been the Argents. Not a pleasant master for anyone to have.
"But now-" Stiles turned, looking down into the slight waves of water. Derek looked with him, and thought they looked otherworldly. Like ghosts. Stiles caught Derek's reflected gaze with his own and smiled wide and sweet. "Tell me of your home world, Derek."
The feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming, and Derek laughed causing the water to ripple. Their reflections were gone, but he didn’t care, instead he focused on turning and pulling Stiles closer. The other man didn't resist, he just looked up at him with curious anticipation. Even though he managed to control his expression, Stiles' rabbiting heartbeat told Derek he was just as effected as Derek. "I saw you too. In my dream." He began, free hand moving up to Stiles' cheek.
"And how did your dream end?" Stiles prompted, leaning into the hand with a deliberate head tilt.
"It didn't." Derek leaned in and pressed his lips to Stiles' in a gentle kiss, their first of many. A lifetime of kisses if he had his way. He kissed Stiles and knew he would share his future with this man. For good or ill, they were connected. Mated.
Stiles broke the kiss with a sigh, his smile lighting his face up. "We should go back soon. Your sister will wonder where you've gone, and so will my father."
Derek tightened his hold on Stiles, reluctant to let this moment of peace end. "We'll return." He agreed reluctantly, "But let's stay just a little longer."
"All right." Stile's smile softened, and he nodded with understanding. He pressed closer, his cheek resting on Derek's shoulder as he held him. "Just a little longer."
