Kings of a Purple Sea

Part 5

More editing will come later, just wanted to get this out - enjoy :)

Cool moonlight streamed through the grates of the slow rocking ship, illuminating Derek Hale's sleeping form. His face was pinched in distress as he dreamed. It had been three days aboard The Gorgon and he had nothing to show for it but nightmares.

After the first day, when Derek woke up to find Stiles in his cell, he had hoped it would mean he would see the other man somewhat regularly during his stay.

This was not the case.

In fact, the only time Derek saw the outside of his prison was for the bathroom across the hall and to receive meals. Not including his guard, he didn't see another soul.

The portholes in the side of the ship helped him keep track of the rise and fall of the moon, though he began to feel time was meaningless within the first twelve hours of captivity.

He had taken to doing meager exercises to keep his body and brain sharpened for the inevitable conflict to come, but even that wasn't enough to stall his racing thoughts.

His nights were restless. When he was able to find rest, it was uneasy and riddled with spores of the past.

It was these very memories that plagued his slumbers now...

~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles's knees hit the floor.

Despite the pull of his wound, and Stiles's insistence he not rip his stitches, Derek was quick to make it to the other's side, buying himself enough time to slip free of his bonds.

As soon as the power of his voice had counteracted against Stiles's own charmspeak, a disaster had struck. Usually, the effect of Derek's Alpha Voice was only enough to force the receiver to succumb to the demand within the words.

Nothing of this magnitude had ever happened before.

It was as if Derek had cursed the charmspeaker. The pure magic of his desperate intentions had interfered with Stiles's very being - he was a piece of driftwood Derek had split with an ax.

Stiles's own blue power had struck out like a snuffed candle as his will was stolen from him; his body crumpled. But as soon as Derek's order had been fulfilled, and Stiles was unarmed, the blue burst out of him once more. Blooming cerulean that burned brighter and brighter, blinding Derek except in his pursuit to be by the captain's side.

"Stiles-" Derek began, but Stiles's unseeing azure gaze shot to him with unnerving accuracy.

The alpha knew it was not Stiles - as he knew him - who was present with him now.

The power fueling the charmspeaker opened Stiles's mouth, as if to issue a damning order that would no doubt cost Derek his life. The werewolf still didn't hesitate to reach out his scarred, dirty, roughened hand and brush the tender knuckles of Stiles's own.

If he was going to die, he wouldn't bar himself from his one truest pursuit.

Just as Stiles's mouth began to form whatever cruel order the beast inside was eager to unleash, Stiles tensed, grit his teeth, and shut his eyes in a wince that was distinctively human.

"Agh," Stiles groaned as he fell forward on his hands, head hung as if accepting the weight of a crown and all that came with it.

His eyes were shut tight, hiding the window to the internal battle.

Nonetheless, the oppressive force that had choked Derek and pinned down his limbs was gone.

He could breathe again. They both could.