Work Text:
Pressure & Time - Weds
D : Diamonds - Weds 7/31
(Rekindle old flame or *Feud)
The Argents have always been involved somehow, and they thought their feud with the Hales was the oldest one their house had. They were wrong. It was their capture of an Alpha and other creatures that enabled the sorcerer who held Stiles captive. It was the corrupt sorcerer who supplied the Argents with enchanted weapons, who had in turn forced Stiles to do his bidding. The Argents were going to go down.
*** Pressure & Time
Part 5 of Metalsmith Stiles series
_ _ _ _ _
It's been a handful of months since Peter became a wolf, a few since the death of Kate Argent and he feels settled in his new skin. Talia is almost grumpy about how quickly Peter made the full shift but can't hide how happy she is that he's now a wolf. He's always been Pack, but the addition of strength and speed is welcome, especially now.
Stiles has also improved by literal leaps and bounds, taking the wildness of his own wolf and focusing it, shaping it around Pack and refining his fighting skills alongside his lessons and time spent with the Nemeton. Both are formidable opponents and the Hale Pack's reputation continues to grow.
Even so, they both felt an urgency to bring their plans to fruition, pressure pushing down on them with every passing day.
_ _ _ _ _
Word is spreading around werewolves more frequently now and the Hunter elements are more vocal if not more active. The biggest threat, as usual, is from affluent, ignorant people who don't understand the true cost of magics or deals with the supernatural. Demand for protective talismans and magical items have surged. There were already idiots in hospital for ingesting things no human should and no supernatural would. It was almost unsurprising that rare items like Fae gems would make a reappearance.
_ _ _ _ _
The Hale Pack calls for a meeting with some of the nearby Packs and groups of Other, those who have also been affected by Hunter activities in the past, ones who will be more sympathetic to their mission.
On the way to the meeting, Peter realizes they're being followed and alerts Talia. Together, they draw the lone Hunter away and down an alleyway, Peter quickly scaling the fire escape while Talia follows the Hunter running toward Peter. He enters the dead end, and as he whips back around to find Talia, goes down from Peter leaping down on him. Stiles comes in behind Talia, and watches as Peter simply reaches out and crushes his throat. Noticing the glint of metal, Peter moves his hand and plucks a small diamond pendant out from underneath the Hunter's shirt.
Stiles is livid and lets it be known that the Argents have once again meddled in affairs they shouldn't, using part of his time at the meeting to explain how these sinister pieces of jewelry work.
Stiles jumps in with the important part about the Argents. "Gerard must have made a bargain with the Queen of the Fae for the gemstones in these pendants. He has the main, largest part of the original diamond and these smaller ones are all linked to his by blood and oath, allowing him control." Stiles points at the pendant he took off of Kate and the smaller one taken off the dead Hunter. "That is not an ordinary diamond. They're created in the Shadowlands at the edges of the Fae Realm, they're not of this world. They're used to bond the spirit and ensure it travels to the gem rather than the afterlife. The energy they can hold is immense but it's hard to use when containing human energies, they're too chaotic. It's best to just use them as a siphon to slowly pull a small amount of spirit into the gem over time as you use the energies for something else, honestly. A whole spirit at once is a lot of raw magical energy. If it isn't directed somehow, it just passes into the bearer of the pendant as, well, a sort of boost to their own energy. Without magic himself, Gerard is likely picking out Hunters he can drain for his own direct physical benefit. He can continue to do this until he runs out of Hunters, and he could potentially force it upon the unwilling, too. "
"You can turn a soul into magic?" Talia inquired, a bit morbid in her tone.
"Not...really? It's already magic of its own. All life is. If you lose it completely, you just kind of stop living. Having it drawn out of you is exhausting. Eventually you stop enjoying things, desiring things, wanting things...you just stop everything except breathing. Then that stops, too."
Stiles' hand had drifted back up to his chest, absently searching for his own damned pendant. The Sorcerer had only drawn on theirs during rituals or as a severe punishment and allowed time in between the draws for the energies to regrow; with how constant the draw must have been from Gerard his chosen Hunters were likely already starting to grow more apathetic and erratic. More likely to make mistakes.
Like the one in the alleyway, Peter suddenly recognized. He was young and they had written him off as inexperienced and over-eager, but what if he'd been tethered to Gerard? Under strict orders and threat to his life from Gerard alongside the stress of life-threatening supernatural encounters, he would have already been on edge. Add in some extra exhaustion and it's a recipe for disaster.
They look down at the remains of the man who'd tried to jump them as they entered the meeting. He looked young and had gone down with hardly a fight, his face frozen in stupid surprise. A single youngling sent to scout, perhaps. He wasn't a part of the group they had under surveillance. Between his assignment and his pendant, it was clear he was someone Gerard found to be disposable, but it's very possible Hunters still would feel a responsibility toward their peer.
Stiles squints. "Do they bury the body or burn it?"
"When possible, Hunters will retrieve and burn the body to prevent any supernatural events." Peter answers, wondering where Stiles is going with this.
"That's just what I thought," Stiles smiles and kicks the body none too gently. "I have an idea."
_ _ _ _ _
Stiles worked with all kinds of metals during his tenure with Sorcerer and knew them all well. Quicksilver — also known as mercury — was almost impossible to work on its own, being a liquid at normal temperatures it was fickle and excitable. Stiles was going to take advantage of those traits and the toxicity of mercury itself to start toppling the Argents.
"Bodies are heavy, and awkward, and overall just an ordeal to handle", Stiles points out and lays out his plan to the Pack. "Nobody notices when the bodies retrieved weigh a little bit more than they did when alive. It isn't like they are weighing them. Even if they did, the amount we're putting in is negligible and easily ignored. I can put enough inside their bodies to poison dozens of Hunters. All we have to do is get the mercury inside and their traditions will hopefully take care of the rest."
Talia asked, "Where will we find enough mercury for this? I'm assuming it will take more than a few broken thermometers to get enough."
Peter spoke up, "The old Hale mines. They were originally for gold, but some found cinnabar. Stiles says if there is still any there, he can find it and extract it." They'd discussed the mines previously, musing about making the short trip over and seeing if they still had any metals for Stiles to use. When he'd mentioned the cinnabar, Stiles' eyes lit up and his brain started scheming.
"I can pull it from the ore directly, then guide it inside the bodies. It's very receptive." Stiles added on, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. Talia just nodded, trying not to imagine what "guiding inside the bodies" actually entailed and failing. "Thank you for that image, Stiles," she said drily. "It sounds like at least the start of this is low-risk and I approve of it. Go to the mines and get what you need. We'll keep an eye on the body and stall if needed. Be fast."
Stiles and Peter both nod and get up from the table. Stiles fetches the Sorcerer's satchel and begins to fill it with glass jars from the kitchen pantry. For this to work, he'll need quite a lot, perhaps a full flask of mercury. He counts fourteen jars before he runs out of space, enough to hold what he will need and much more. He takes out several jars to make space for a blanket Peter brings in to cushion the remaining ones. Stiles closes the satchel and within a minute they're both out the back door, running.
A few hours later, the Hunters scuttle back into the shadows with their dead companion, unknowingly carrying more death inside. It's a classic hunting technique, putting out poisoned bait, but the Hunters never suspect a thing. They're so used to thinking of Others as mindless beasts that their bigotry has blinded them to more subtle dangers than fang and claw.
The next day, five of the Hunters leave their house and head towards Hale territory armed for bear. They don't make it halfway to their goal when the forest comes alive around them, the Nemeton answering Stiles, who steps out of the shadows with a handful of allies. Five more bodies are filled with mercury and left at their house to be found when they inevitably miss their next check in.
_ _ _ _ _
It was a hard loss to take, a half dozen Hunters all taken out in a week. They clearly had underestimated the Hale Pack and needed to regroup before moving ahead. Gerard was furious and called his forces off, realizing morale was low and tension high. He needed them back at the compound, under his eye, working on the next plan.
Back at the Argent compound, a huge pyre is constructed in a room special built for the purpose of burning the dead, ashes interred in urns tucked in niches all along the walls. As each of the dead are retrieved and burned, the other Hunters enter and stay to watch their fellows crumble into ash in a final act of respect and diligence called Witnessing. The heat is immense and the oversized chimney only channels so much of the smoke up and away, leaving the rest to irritate eyes and lungs. Still they stand at parade rest, watery tears and sniffles almost lending emotion to this otherwise silent ceremony.
It takes two days to burn them all down to ash and flake, and every dutiful breath the mourners take, they take Death inside, too.
_ _ _ _ _
It starts with small tremors, fingers trembling, having difficulty with dexterity. Those are dismissed by the individuals suffering, blamed on the difficulty of sleeping recently or from the headache the aspirin doesn't seem to touch.
Over the next few weeks, it seems to spread like an illness. Twitches and spasms became a common sight, and Hunters wandered the compound at all hours, unable to sleep. Angry at their own bodies and afraid, arguments and fights become an almost daily occurrence.
They pull half the guard, those unable to perform their duties, and lock down the compound, desperate to determine the source of this mysterious illness. Rumors are muttered about curses and poisons somehow slipped past their systems, perhaps by a rogue hunter angry about all the recent events. Continuing to investigate, they send out a message saying the compound is in quarantine and no-one will be allowed in or out.
It's exactly what Stiles has been waiting for. No backup will be on standby, no guards outside, and inside the Hunters are compromised. They've been waiting and now is the time to strike.
Word is sent out and the first dominoes begin to fall.
"Remember when I said She wanted to help somehow? Well, we think we figured out how. I am going to ask Her to hide close to Argent compound and take all of us with Her," Stiles stated. "She thinks it will work."
Peter is shocked, he wouldn't have thought it was possible, but She's a Nemeton so who knows what the rules are?
They gather outside the house and run, knowing they'll find Her. Soon enough, everyone who can fit is standing on top of Her, Stiles at the center. Peter bumps into him on his left, shuffling to make room. Everyone manages to fit, and once he's gotten the go ahead, Stiles closes his eyes and tells Her to move.
It's like being dropped from an unknown height, a moment of falling and a spin of golden light and they're tumbling off of Her into an unfamiliar forest. Peter gets his bearings and checks the map.
"South. We need to head south."
Stiles is the last to hop off, and turns back to brush the edge of Her, telling Her it was time to go home until needed.
She disappears to be found again later, and they all turn to the south, toward the Argent compound.
_ _ _ _ _
It looks abandoned.
No one is outside by the fence line, and no one has run a perimeter check in at least a day, going by the smell and tracks on the worn path.
They cautiously make their way toward the large house at the center of the compound. No one challenges them, no lights swing around to highlight them in the dark, nothing moves at all. Inside, various lights are on but no motion is happening inside that they can make out. It doesn't seem like there is any regular patrol happening inside the compound at all, which means most of the fighting will happen close quarters in the bunkhouse and quarters the Hunters are laid up in.
As a group they move forward, and a few strong kicks later are in the entryway. A lone Hunter slumps against the wall, trying to unholster his gun with a shaking hand. Peter strides over and pins him against the wall. "Where is Gerard?"
"In his quarters, the coward ran to hide as soon as he started to shake," the Hunter spat out, "It's all his fault!"
"You have no idea how right you are," Peter replied, almost gleeful at this open act of mutiny. "Now, tell me how many men are still standing like you in this building."
The young Hunter tells them everything and in thanks they snap his neck. A quick, painless death was all they could offer and probably more than he deserved, considering how his ranting would likely cost all his fellows their lives. They leave his body where it drops and continue toward Gerard's quarters, passing through the open common room and finding several Hunters slouched over or flat out collapsed on the floor. They make quick work of them all, and soon enough come to the turn. Down the next hallway are the more private quarters of the higher ranking Hunters and past them, a double door leading to Gerard's part of the compound.
Peter and Stiles break off from the main group and watch the group break into the pre-assigned teams to check each room. Heartbeats, quick and jittery, come from most of the rooms but none of the doors open. Everyone gets ready to break down their door while Peter and Stiles get ready to run for the double doors at the end.
They make it without trouble, and enter Gerard's quarters.
_ _ _ _ _
The hallway they stood in was immense, almost the size of a gallery. Along both sides ran intricate inlaid familial trees, each Hunter having a small silver plaque engraved and placed upon taking their Oath. Occasionally a small black diamond would be inset next to a name, causing Peter to shudder.
Stiles reached up and placed his hand against the tree, spreading his palm and fingers to cover the wrought iron.
"No Argent will break the Code again without literally tarnishing their names."
Peter watched as the nameplates closest to the trunk started to dull, then tarnish. He watched the decay spread, skipping over some of the names before sweeping across others. Unsurprisingly, all of those with diamonds turned black in moments, their hue shadowed to match that of the iron branches curling and swooping to map out generations of Hunters.
At the end of the hall was an old door that looked as if it was built to withstand a siege.
Stiles laid his hand against the iron of the door and pushed, his hand sinking into the metal. When he was nearly wrist-deep, he concentrated and then slowly drew his fingers together into a fist, clutching the metal and scooping his hand down. A piece of iron the size of a grapefruit fell out, hitting the stone of the floor with a dull thud. Stiles reached his hand in again and repeated the process. A third press of his hand and a large hole was formed. Placing both his hands inside, he drew them apart, shoulders straining as the door crumbled like soft clay onto the floor, finally making a hole large enough to fit through. The following ancient oak parted like a curtain as soon as his hand slid against the center seam. Stiles halts, fingertips holding open the wood.
Stiles cocks his head, listening through the crack in the door. He hears two heartbeats inside and knows this is the end. Peter taps his shoulder, nodding, and they slide through the gap.
_ _ _ _ _
An Alpha is inside, draped with familiar chains bearing the Argent crest emblazoned with a diamond in the center. Another enslaved Hunter-turned-wolf, crazed and broken by years of abuse. Peter eyed it carefully, watching red eyes dart between him and Gerard, who was panting heavily and trying to reach his gun on the other side of his wide desk.
As Stiles walks toward him, Gerard abandons his attempts to stretch for his weapon, pulling instead at the diamond around his neck; yanking the spirit through the connection of the diamond on the wolf, glowing until it finally turned black the same time the Alpha let loose with a noise not unlike a scream. It shook, clearly disoriented for the moment.
Gerard used the quick burst of energy to stagger around his huge desk, fumbling at the drawer.
"It only draws on the human, not the wolf!" Stiles shouted, dodging a wild swipe from the rousing Alpha as he tries to reach Gerard. "Only the wolf is left, Peter!"
Peter didn't hesitate, leaping to tackle the Alpha and forcing it to stagger, creating an opportunity to clamber on its back. He dug his claws into the Alpha's shoulder and dragged his other clawed hand over its throat, hanging on as it slumped to the ground. His knee hit the ground as the Alpha's spark entered him, an electricity suddenly in the air and an awareness slid over him. For an instant, he sees the Nemeton in all its glory and hears the Land singing. His Pack bonds explode, a crescendo of feelings and impressions rolling through him. A sense of duty and righteousness follows as he rises up and decapitates the old Alpha and shoves his body to the ground. He spins around to find Stiles stalking down Gerard.
Gerard was shaking, but still trying to hold up his gun. His heavy, metal gun, full of heavy, metal bullets. Stiles grinned. Peter smirked and flashed now-red eyes. As the last of the sapped energy left him, numbness ran down Gerard's arms again, leaving him unable to pull the trigger.
This was perfect. Stiles pinches the barrel shut and then dances his fingers up the ridge of the weapon and gently takes it from Gerard's tenuous grip. Peter comes over and shoves Gerard into his ridiculous throne-like chair and holds him down with one clawed, bloodied hand.
"That's not the first time I have seen a captive werewolf due to an Argent but I swear it will be the last," Stiles states, not caring what Gerard is trying to sputter out. "You hypocrite! Using magic and werewolves in your stupid war against the same. It's been centuries and still all you know is fear and all you do is slaughter. How many innocents have been harmed or killed because of your actions? How many of us sacrificed on the altar of your hate and hubris?"
Gerard coughed and struggled weakly against Peter's grip. "Monsters, all of you. None of you deserve to be alive, Kate should have finished the job she started years ago."
"Kate is dead, and we killed her. You already know that, but if you wanted a confession, we're happy to provide one," Peter snarled. "She died whimpering and alone, our first claimed kill. We didn't even raise a claw against her, if that makes you feel better." Peter tutted, "I don't think you appreciate the death we gave her, Gerard. How long were you going to let her wear that Fae diamond without telling her the truth?"
"What kind of death did you have in mind for your daughter, Gerard? A quick one, all of her used up at once, or a slow one, drawn out over weeks?" Stiles pondered as he stared down at the trembling hunter. Stiles knew as soon as he saw Kate's necklace. Gerard must have phrased permission into one of the Oaths specially chosen Hunters took directly to him, that's why the diamonds worked. Stiles guessed Gerard knew it because his great-grandfather and later father was the one who did truck with Sorcerer, and Sorcerer was the one with access to Fae gemstones. The Argents supplied Sorcerer with an Alpha and a wary truce in return for magical items, which Stiles has been forced to make. Sorcerer loved to brag and must have let slip enough details over the years for the Argents to start to piece together part of the puzzle.
Gerard just happened to be the one to put it all together and risk making a deal with the Fae. "You should be dead, Gerard, without the amount of life you've pulled out of your Hunters over the years it would have been you on that pyre long ago."
"And you came by all your years naturally, boy?" Gerard hissed, "What did you trade for your decades of youth? I remember seeing you when I was a child, and you're the same as you were then. What were you, the Sorcerer's catamite? One of the Fae's playthings?"
Peter roared and dug his claws into Gerard's chest, slamming him against the back of the chair. Stiles just laughed.
"Yes, I'm the Metalsmith that wrought those chains binding your kept beast, and your ancestor's brooch, and, if you still doubt it even now, your death. All of those bodies you burned, all of the rituals Witnessed, every one of those deaths over the past months have led to yours today, Argent. Even if I did nothing else today, you would still be dead by next week. All of your stolen time ends now."
Stiles casually backhands Gerard, then swipes his fingertips to collect blood from Gerard's mouth, dabbing it across the face of the Fae gem. The blood didn't need to be given freely, and neither did the spirit. Permission made it easier but magic was done mostly by will, and Stiles had over two centuries worth.
Stiles' eyes burned bright like the noon sun as he splayed his hand across Gerard's chest, pendant warming under his palm. "Let's see how much of you is left to kill, old man."
Just like that, Gerard's spirit was in the diamond while his corpse toppled over and cooled in front of them on the stone floor.
"Well," Peter says, "That's that."
_ _ _ _ _
Suddenly another person is in the room with them.
"Metalsmith," Gatherer acknowledged with a small nod.
"Gatherer, good to see you." Stiles replied, surprised.
Peter watched as they both smiled a little too toothily at each other and remembered how long Stiles had spent around the Fae.
"And your wolfblood mate, I see. May I be the first to extend my congratulations, Alpha." Gatherer sketched a bow toward Peter and looked back at Stiles. "I can see you've met Her. Some of the others thought my hope to be otiose, but they were wrong. I'll look forward to collecting my due from them."
Stiles let loose a small smile, thinking of Gambler grumpily handing over a purse. "I did a little more than just meet Her, if that fattens the kitty for you."
"I know. I can see it, your Oath. It is a thing of beauty, Metalsmith. You've done well." Gatherer looked down at Gerard's body, "I take it you discovered this one's use of your Sorcerer's tricks and took umbrage?"
"I 'took umbrage' with his family and their use of magic and more to enslave or kill me and mine, Gatherer, just like I have for centuries. Werewolves and hunters, right? When did he make his deal with your Queen is what I'm wondering." Stiles retorted.
Laughing, Gatherer answered, "Ah, the misadventures of youth! He'd barely managed to kill his lovely first wife on his own and didn't think he'd ever lead the family without...outside assistance. Especially with his health issues. He came to us looking for immortality and power, as humans so love to do."
Stiles frowned. "His ancestor made a deal with the Sorcerer, not the Fae. In exchange for the occasional magic, the Argents gave over a captive Alpha and allowed the Sorcerer to live relatively unbothered by them otherwise. The Sorcerer had to bargain with the Queen for his special gemstones. How did Gerard come across his own?"
Gatherer sighed. "As a mortal generally does, by being bestowed as you said. The details are between him and the Queen, but amongst other things, this one traded in the potentials of his three children."
Peter helpfully pointed out, "Gerard only had two children."
Gatherer made the so/so gesture with one slender hand, "The third had substantially less potential."
Peter took his turn to sigh.
Stiles remained curious, asking "Did he know how the gems worked before he negotiated? Because of his ancestor?"
"Yes," Gatherer replied, pleased that Stiles was working it all out.
"So why the years without use of magic," Stiles mused aloud. "The Argent sire I knew spent many visits with Sorcerer and had a prodigious brood of children, but the rest of his ilk all seemed averse to magical dealings at best, and against it as a standard. At some point one of the line must have lost or outlawed the use of magic, but old men keep diaries and young men snoop." Stiles tapped his lips, "Gerard must have put together enough from family tales and his childhood memories to hunt down the few remaining pieces rumored to be magical. Easy enough to test those. Then, that proof given, enough encouragement to learn how to summon the Court, too?"
"The Sorcerer always did love to talk." Gatherer agreed, putting out his hand.
Stiles sighed, placing Gerard's pendant into the Fae's palm, chain falling in coils. "Now you're here to gather all the fragments and take the Queen's due?"
"Exactly so, and to deliver a message.
'Diamonds aren't the only things made from pressure and time.' " Gatherer looked at them both and nodded. "I will see you both again," he offered in lieu of a goodbye, and promptly vanished.