Disclaimer - I do not own teen wolf, sadly. I just own this mega babe you will come to know as Miles Argent, so don't even think about trying to steal him.
00; The Good, The Bad, and The Argents
Miles Argent had never quite known what home felt like. He hadn't been born in a hospital and taken home with two loving parents. No, instead he was dropped on a door step with a small note that pretty much said he was the result of his dads idiotic one night stand after saving a town from a family of wendigos. How his mother had managed to track down the traveling band of Argents remains a mystery, but it doesn't change the fact that Miles was dumped on the family like last weeks trash.
All in all, Miles was a mistake.
Nobody ever said it verbally, but Miles still knew it. Gerard Argent never liked things he hadn't planned, and a random newborn falling into his hands as the greatest liability on earth was about the most uncontrolled thing that had ever happened to the old man.
Nonetheless, Gerard was a righteous man. At least, he thought so. He encouraged his son, Noah Argent, to take in his mistake and raise it like a true Argent man should. Noah had never planned on the whole fatherhood thing (he'd always been better at just slicing and dicing supernatural creatures) but he tried. For ten years, he did his best at being a father, but eventually he had to stop. It was a little hard for him to raise a son when he'd been decapitated one night while he was on a hunt.
That was the first time Miles learned that death wasn't uncommon in his family. To be a hunter, sometimes you have to live with being hunted in return. And you can't always out smart the predator. Therefore, death just happens, whether you like it or not. It was the bitter lining that comes along with being an Argent.
That was the lesson Miles learned the day Gerard had knelt in front of him, cupped his shoulder with his hand, and delivered the news of his fathers bloody passing. Though Miles had been but ten years old, he handled the death of his only parent surprisingly well. Naturally, Gerard had taken this young boy, this child who was already the strength of the family, and fostered him into a fine hunter.
For years after his fathers death, Miles was trained and trained. He twirled knives until his fingers were covered in cuts, he fought until his face was too badly bruised that his grandfather made him stop, and he shot arrow after arrow until his hands were numb. Some days, he seemed more like a robot hardwired to fight instead of a teenage boy. And most days, fighting was all he did. And then he was trained to hunt. After that, he was trained to kill.
Miles was far from a cold blooded killer, though. Contrary to popular belief, He never woke up in the morning and thought 'hmm, should I bash werewolf heads before or after my eggs and toast?'.
That's right, blood-lust wasn't what drove the giant mass of brawny muscle and devilishly good looks. In the end, what he thought of when his hands were balling into fists, ready to pummel down on any poor supernatural creature that dared cross his path, was that he was still just a failure. Why else would his grandfather push him so hard then to prove his worth? Why else did he feel a constant emptiness in his stomach when his family came together and hugged their brothers and sisters and husbands and wives, while he held no one?
That emptiness, that void that always made his entire being just feel a little bit off, like an outsider with his own blood relatives, was always what drove Miles. Ever since he got his so called license to kill and became a real hunter, he did everything just to be a true Argent, to earn his families respect and disband their pity.
That very need to please is why Miles packed up everything he owned, which in all honesty wasn't much outside of weapons, and left Paris, France at his grandfathers beck and call to avenge his aunts death.
That was his plan, anyways. It was a good one, but things didn't tend to go to plan in the small town Miles was now residing in. Even though he'd traveled a good portion of the world, no place could compare to Beacon Hills. And no girl could compare to Lydia Martin.
matthew daddario as miles argent
I KNOW I'M SICK AND SAD AND NEED HELP.
But in my defense I was watching Shadowhunters when I got this idea and man Alec Lightwood would make a hella fine argent. Therefore, Allisons cousin Miles Argent (Shout out to the babe homiciders for helping me with his name) was born. I hope you like him! Also, I apologize for this part being short and choppy. My introductions suck some werewolf butt but hey the first chapter is ready to be lit.
Let me know what you think of Miles in the comment below! Also, let me know how excited you are for some happy Lydia Martin bc lord knows i'm already on my own freaking ship.