Stiles Stilinski Imagines {ON HOLD}

Star-Crossed [AU]

Stiles had spent his whole life hating Y/N. He hated that she was the reason he would never get to marry for love, his parents having made an alliance with hers the moment they were born. He hated the way she was so serious about the merging of the kingdoms, obviously obsessed with the power that would come with being Queen. He hated the way she had insisted on sticking to the rules at every turn, always the goody-two shoes princess that he had been told he would marry one day.

He hated the way she was now, lying in a hospital bed, making him worry.

"You're late." Stiles rolled his eyes as Y/N scolded him. It was the rehearsal for their wedding, the day neither of them wanted to arrive, and he had appeared an hour later than expected. He didn't bother telling her what he had been doing, knowing that she wouldn't care about the constellations that he had watched disappear as the Sun came up.

"Let's just get this over with, shall we?" Stiles sneered at her, before taking his place opposite his future bride. There was a deadly beauty about her, and if looks could kill, Stiles was pretty sure he would be dead by now. He picked up the ribbon from the altar. "Hold out your hand."

He wasn't gentle when he wrapped it around her hand, the symbolic binding of their two souls, knowing that she wouldn't be either.

Why their parents had thought this was going to be a good idea, he had no clue.

"Ow!" He was snapped out of his daze by Y/N's grip. He glared at her as she wrapped the ribbon around his hand, which she returned with a smirk.

She would make a great evil Queen, he decided.

Stiles had spent his whole life hating Y/N. He hated that she looked at him like he was less than nothing, clearly echoing his feelings about her. He hated that she never seemed to travel alone, her ladies-in-waiting constantly by her side, a gang of sneering girls, giggling about him behind his back. He hated that she forced politeness when their parents were around, acting as if she was so enthusiastic about the idea of marrying him.

He hated the way she had looked now, making him think she was beautiful as she slept.

"So."

"So." Stiles surveyed what was now his marital bedroom, his now wife standing in the centre of the room. All the bravado seemed to have diminished from her, her back, once so straight and poised as she walked down the aisle, now seemed slumped, her confidence gone from her eyes.

For the first time Stiles saw Y/N as someone like him – someone forced into a marriage that she didn't really want. She was away from the prying eyes of expectation in here, but yet it still haunted her. "They'll want proof, you know, that we did," her eyes fell to the bed as her voice trailed off.

Stiles understood, a sick feeling forming in his stomach. "Oh, well." He needed some air. He strode across the room and opened the doors that led to the balcony. He looked out onto the night, finding comfort in the stars.

Y/N appeared beside him, just as one tiny ball of light seemed to fall from the sky. "What do you want to do about it?"

Stiles looked at her, and saw her fear. "Do you want to, you know?"

"Not really." He almost laughed at her disdain for tradition, so used to her obeying the rules.

"Then we won't."

"But what will people say?"

"We're royalty. They can't say anything."

Stiles could have sworn he saw her smile.

Stiles had spent his whole life hating Y/N. He hated the way she fell into the role of princess so well, sitting back and letting herself be pampered. He hated the way she looked at him from across the room, reminding him of the expectations that were placed on him. He hated the way she treated life as if it were a chore, wanting her to loosen up once in a while.

He hated the way she had jumped to his defense, making him fear that he might lose her forever.

There was blood everywhere, and the only thing Stiles could do was yell for help. The assassin had come in through the window, the doors to the bedroom from the balcony permanently open. He and Y/N spent their nights out there, watching the stars, never speaking more than a few words to each other.

But a few words was all it had taken for him to admit that he was starting to like her, not enough to admit he was falling for her.

Y/N had jumped in front of the attacker after he had slashed at Stiles's shirt, and there was now blood pouring from her stomach. Stiles held her head in his lap, trying to reassure her as she greeted unconsciousness like an old friend.

He could feel tears begin to fall down his cheeks, sadness something he thought he would never show towards Y/N. With every tear there were unspoken words – Don't leave me, I can't do this without you.

They had taken her to the infirmary and Stiles was waiting on news of her survival, hoping that his wife – it was the first time he had called her that without resentment – would live to spend her days with him.

Stiles had spent his whole life hating Y/N. He hated the way she never said more than a word to him in the evenings, too absorbed in the book she was reading. He hated the way she missed the stars crossing over each other, knowing that it would make her smile. He hated the way she made his heart beat fast every time he lay down next to her in their marital bed.

He hated the way she looked at him with a smile as she awoke, making him tell her that he loved her.

He loved the way she said it back, adding one more star to the sky.