Kings And Queens

Gandalf?

'Albion, the legend of a united land ruled under the just King, Arthur. But when he perished in battle it was left to his Queen Guinevere to rule. The great sorcerer Merlin has withdrawn from Camelot after the death of his King and best friend. With the love of her people at her side, Guinevere rules with kindness, only wanting peace between her kingdom and the others. But will wanting it be Enough?'

. . .

Kings And Queens

A train station, that was all Stiles could see. Whenever he went out a door, he emerged from another door in the same room. Went down a tunnel, but couldn't pass through without dying.

So he just waited, and waited. Sleeping on the hard wood bench, no one else seemed to know where they were. They just kept telling him that they were waiting for their train that Stiles knew would bring their deaths or whatever happens when the train comes.

He was hungry, thirsty, and surrounded by blank faces but never more alone.

Peter was gone, either a burnt corpse again, or alive and healing.

Weak, human, that's all he was.

He wondered what would have happened if he said yes to the bite offered by Peter. Would have he been better? Stronger? Or would have he been a monster like Peter?

Slumping down on a wooden bench he looked down at himself, his hands skinny and clammy. His clothes were baggy, he had hoped it could conceal his skinny frame but in reality it did nothing.

The world was full of bad people, and what could he do to stop it? Nothing.

He remembered the stories his Mother used to tell him. Knights, Kings, Queens, Wizards, Dragons. A good world trying to be made by a good king who would have wanted peace. Now look at the world, every nation trying to make the biggest weapon, so many people killing and hurting for selfishness, for the greed of wanting more and more.

What was the point of wanting everything?

He looked up at the several oblivious faces. They could be good people, they could be innocent, but undoubtedly they would also be bad people among them.

Why did people constantly get worse and worse with each generation? Chivalry, kindness, good hearted people, he felt like they were all but gone.

He told Lydia he loved her, and what was the point? She never put in any work for a real relationship to happen. Besides Jackson she never loved anyone else that way.

Something caught Stiles's attention, making him look up.

The only movements were the occasional blink of the passengers, and the ghost riders bringing more souls in.

Stiles squinted, looking for the place he had seen it, a flash of movement again and he looked to his right.

Standing up, he looked at it. The entrance to the Wild Hunt, and the only exit for the ghost riders.

He couldn't even step past the threshold when the fear clamped. Part of the illusion that guy had called it. The fear of seeing what was on the other side of that tunnel when he already had.

His breathing grew heavier, his heart pounded, the color drained from his face.

Foot reaching out, he stepped past the line and it all disappeared. The magical aura of fear gone within a second. All that remained was his own fear that he could fight past.

There was no thunder, no sounds of horses, telling him the Wild Hunt wasn't coming so it had to be something else in there.

"Hello?" He called out, his voice echoing, the first word he had spoken since Peter left.