Mieczyslaw Mikaelson. The youngest in the original family.
Or Stiles, as he is more commonly called, has been staying out of the way of his siblings.
After 200 years he just wants to see his family again.
But the family that finds him isn't exactl...
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"Well that, and I saw you murder a girl."
Scott felt as if he was seeing Stiles in a new light. He noticed things about him that he hadn't thought to question before. Like the slight accent Stiles had that sounded like it was from olden times. And how he sometimes seemed to keep his eyes closed longer while taking a deep breath like he was calming himself.
But Scott could also see all the mannerisms that he had always seen Stiles do. Stiles still scratched the back of his neck every so often. And he still wounldn't stop moving, he was always doing something, Scott had always put that down to Stiles' ADHD but now he wasn't so sure. And he hated it because it almost made the situation seem normal when it was most certainly not.
From behind him Scott heard someone stir, then Malia took a step forward. "So you really have been lying to us the whole time," she said with crossed arms. Scott was stunned about her actions before he realised it was Malia.
It was obvious to him that Stiles didn't quite know how to answer the question, he ummed and ahhed for a while before once again scratching the back of his neck. Stiles took a minute to collect his thoughts before he started.
"Yea, I suppose I kinda have." Stiles said and Scott could of sworn he heard a scoff but he couldn't work out who it was from.
There was an awkwardly long moment of silence before Stiles seemed to get his wits.
"But I wasn't faking our friendship," he started as he snapped into action. "I care for you guys as my friends and as my family."
" I didn't tell you about the real me, because I was trying to protect you. Because it seems that everyone who gets involved with my family and their antics ends up in pain, and I didn't want any of you to have to go through that."
"Were you trying to protect that girl you killed yesterday," Lydia interrupted, rage burning behind her eyes. Upon seeing Stiles' eyes widening, she continued, "Scott told us everything."
"I..." Stiles stared but couldn't finish. He hung his head, still facing the group that had risen to oppose him, "It was a moment of weakness."
"And how often do you have these moments of weakness, Stiles." Scott spoke, spitting the originals name out like it was a disease. The alpha was mad, furious even. Stiles had gone against everything he had worked so hard to avoid; death of the innocent.
To have Stiles stand in front of him and talk about it as if it was nothing more that a small pothole in a road trip, was demoralising. How had he ever been friends with him?, Scott scrutinised.
"I haven't," Stiles began before he realised this was not longer true, "I hadn't for at least two hundred years."
Once again he was greeted with silence. The seemed shocked, but Stiles was unsure of just how shocked. Was it because they realised the true essence of his lifestyle, his immortality, which make the length of their lives look insignificant. Or was it that they were shocked at his control or lack of, that he hadn't drank from a human for so long. Stiles hoped he was restoring himself in their minds, especially Scott's, as their friend, instead of this monster they had created in their thoughts.
