So this is the Teen Wolf story I've had simmering within me for a while now... and I really should learn to upload things earlier! I hope no one thought I'd died or something because I am here, updating fics infrequently and publishing old stories.
I own nothing, as usual. Any and all references to BBC Merlin are accidental (but not entirely unwelcome).
Anyway, here's the prologue!
Stiles had known about the whole 'magic' thing for a long time.
It had not been when they had found out that Deaton was more than just a veterinarian; no, it was long before even that.
Stiles' mother had died when he was nine years old, but not before she had taught him some of her tricks.
For while Claudia Stiles had still been alive, she had been the most powerful witch alive—a title she would then pass on to her only son. Stiles knew about what she could do, and he took it all in stride; he had grown up around it, after all. Claudia started to teach him magic at a very young age, and he showed a lot more promise in the craft than most other warlocks would have at his age. Claudia was happy; it was apparent that her family's legacy would live on in her son.
She reassured his uncertainties with her pride until the moment she died, with him at her side.
Stiles did not do much magic after that. What he did do was accidental; panic attacks or bad nightmares could lead to shaking walls and exploding flower vases, along with the occasional lethal piece of silverware flying through the air, but he tried to steer clear from that side of his life.
He learned to control himself better over the years. His dad did not really know the full extent of it until after the whole Nemeton thing, and by then it was easy to believe.
But when Scott had first been turned into a werewolf, Stiles knew instantly that something was going on. It was not that he was clever enough to do some very successful research—though that certainly did help. No, Stiles knew that something was different about his best friend; he could sense it in the strange way that sounded like a light humming or a displacement in the air. He could sense it in the way he had forgotten he could. If he concentrated hard enough, Scott's eyes would not look just brown to him. He could see things—superimposed ghostly images that did not look quite real, but he knew they were.
When they found out about Deaton's little supernatural side job, Stiles was wary at first. His mother had taught him, before all else, that not all magic-users were to be trusted. He was suspicious for a long time, but Deaton eventually proved himself an important ally.
One day, the druid confronted him about his magic, and offered to help him learn to wield it. Stiles accepted, and they took up lessons in secret. Stiles would help around the clinic when Scott was not around (which was getting to be quite often, what with his new alpha responsibilities), and Deaton would instruct him in druid practices and what little warlock magic he knew.
Deaton advised him not to tell anyone—not even Scott—about his abilities; they had enough to worry about as it was, and having more people know about him would just bring more unwanted attention, putting them all in further danger of whatever lurked around the area of Beacon Hills. Stiles had to protect them, all the while keeping up the image of a normal human.
It was not as hard as one might expect; he was not, after all, invincible. He did get hurt many times, and he still did not have the supernatural healing powers of a werewolf. Stiles' magic manifested itself as more of an extension of him (he could certainly use it as another pair of arms) that he usually kept hidden away in the depths of himself.
Of course, that does not mean that no one ever noticed something was different about him, however subtle, in those small moments when he would let go and let his magic rush forth.
Sometimes, it was more than that. Sometimes, one of his friends would take note of all the strange happenings around him, and they would ask him about it. He knew he could not hide it forever; they would have to know at some point.
But it was getting too easy to just continue weaving his lies.
Aaaand there we go! Expect the next chapter tomorrow or later today or something, which shall begin the first of these little arcs: The Rabid Alpha! Sound exciting? Maybe not.
Thank you for reading!