Summary: Draug stalked Risa for almost nineteen years. For thirteen years, he had a devoted sidekick known as Crest, who happened to be not-so-secretly in love with him. When she found out what he was doing, she left. Six years after she left, the werewolf is reunited with her former protector and occasional mentor. Can she find it in herself to forgive him?

In Media Res

Forgiven

The black werewolf flew across the clearing, smashing the latest in a string of irate humans to the ground. Ripping his throat out was as casual a gesture to the brawny female as yawning is to a human. Changing back to her regular form, the young woman named Crest kicked the body. "Idiots. Why am I the monster when you're the murderous freak?" she asked the dead body. She shook her head, short black hair flopping across her eyes.

Striking off in a random direction, Crest hummed snatches of various songs she knew. She wasn't worried about getting lost. After six years of wandering, she could safely claim to know nearly every inch of her planet, minus the oceans. She never needed to worry about not being home on time, because she had given up her home six years ago after some rather unpleasant discoveries. Now twenty-seven, Crest was slightly beyond the usual age where the many perverts she ran into bothered her. They'd discovered the daughters of her older friends, after all, and her body had become rather more scarred than before. She could be considered pretty, in a faint, fading way, but not a beauty like she had been in her early teens.

It was the price of staying alive in hostile country, so even if it annoyed her personally, Crest wouldn't complain. She liked being something more than just fading splatters of blood, like most sane beings. Humans tended to be excluded from her list of sane beings of course. They never had the sense to avoid her, just like they never had the sense to avoid Draug.

No. She'd promised herself not to think about him. Growling at herself, she didn't watch where she was walking, and went straight into the midst of an encampment of orcs, an invasive race which had infested the planet roughly a hundred years past.

Before Crest had managed to change forms fully, she found herself swarmed. Ripping out throats even as her head changed, and swiping at what she could reach, the werewolf broke another promise she'd made to herself. It wasn't as high-priority as her not-even-thinking-about-Draug promise, but it was still one she'd made. She sent a call for help to Gwen Tennyson. Not only was this woman the best of friend of Risa, the woman Draug had stalked, she was one of the most powerful mages in existence, and she happened (unfortunately) to be a pervert magnet. She also had a tendency to make too much sense.

Of course, Gwen appeared. She tended to do that, whether she actually knew who was calling her or not. One quick raised red eyebrow, and the orcs were reduced to ashes. "Hi Crest," she said. "I wondered when you'd do that."

"Do you watch me all day or something?" the werewolf grumbled, shaking off some of the blood that clung to her fur.

"Nah, only Draug has the time for that," Gwen said, waving an airy hand.

Crest blushed, cursed herself, blushed harder, and swore out loud. "Doesn't stalk Risa anymore?" she growled, and swore again.

"Nope. Ben finally beat sense into his brain. Why can't I beat sense into Ben's brain if he can beat it into other people?" Gwen was side-tracked by the irritation her cousin had been posing for her whole life.

"Good…?" Crest said, hesitant. "He's…stalking me…now?"

"Not quite, but kind of," the mage said, dragged back from plotting Ben's murder – again – "He mostly makes sure you aren't running into perverts anymore."

Crest laughed, a deep throated bark. "Not now. You haven't seen my human shape." She shook her head, amused. "Gwen, maybe you still get the perverts with your scars, but you've managed to avoid facial ones. Me, I don't care. Vanity doesn't belong in my life."

"He misses you," Gwen said, changing the subject again. "It's odd." A sudden idea appeared to occur to her, and she began to smile. This smile was widely feared since it usually spelled mischief, and Crest, understandably, decided to go somewhere else before Gwen could unleash who-knows-what on her. She teleported with a bang.

"When are people going to realize I do that to frighten them?" the mage muttered under her breath. "Idiots."

Crest had landed in Lycanth. Of course she should have known she'd land in the last place she wanted to be, and her technical country. "At least there's no humans here," she muttered. Luckily she knew the area well, because the country was impossible to teleport out of without a large amount of power. Crest had power on the lower side of 'average', which meant she had to either find someone who could get her out, or hike her way out. Unfortunately for anyone with levels like her, the country was infamously easy to land in. Perhaps it was to keep the werewolves from starving, perhaps it was just to annoy people. Either way, it kept things interesting for anyone with magic.

Lycanth was a largely wooded country. Its small population crops were densely packed cities. Four, one at each of the passes into the country, and the capitol in the center, where the court (generally) lived, comprised the majority of the populace. In recent years, the court had shifted towards the cities as the cautious country began to make steps towards repairing its long-damaged ties with the neighboring Dragonia, ruled by the half-elf queen Chandrisa Silvermoon, and her consort Benjamin.

"I wonder how long I'll be this time," Crest wondered as she began trotting north, after spinning for her direction. "Or which side of the country I'm on." A chuckle rose from the massive black body. "Oh well, long as I'm not heading towards the jerk." She wondered if she could call him the jerk now, since he'd quit pursuing Risa, and decided she could. Draug had never given Risa a say in his perusal, and having experienced that from others, Crest was firmly against him. She wasn't going to have a special standard for him, or make excuses for him, just because she loved him, not if she knew the truth.

She didn't know of the subtle shift of the court and capitol towards the northern city of Blelish, and she certainly was unaware of her watcher, a pale man who saw her in a crystal ball, eyes sad. Detaching his eyes, he found them attracted to his twelve-year-old son, who had obviously been watching him for some time. A blush rose on his dusty cheeks.

"It's cute, in a kind of sad way, dad," Fade drawled, poking his father. "I think she's over you though."

Draug didn't give up hope though.

If orcs hadn't been doing their best to flood Lycanth with their offspring as swiftly as they had Dragonia, Crest wouldn't have been kidnapped. If Crest hadn't been kidnapped, Draug wouldn't have come to the rescue. If Draug hadn't come to the rescue, he wouldn't have been sitting tied to Crest's back, surrounded by orcs, both frantically trying to conjure up some way to get out of their situation.

"Are you drugged?" Crest hissed at him. Neither of them could see the other, of course. She had been stuck to her human form by a specially concocted drug often used by orcs to kidnap werewolves, as their human form was an orcish delicacy.

"Thankfully not," he whispered back, "They were out of that, but they drugged me so I couldn't use my magic."

"They didn't drug me for that," she murmured. "I'll let us free, you change, and we make a break for it."

As the orcs continued their indecipherable arguing, Crest calmly froze and shattered the ropes. Draug leaped in front of her, changing as he moved. She ran with him, bolting past the slow orcs and pounding pell-mell away.

The duo reached a small creek, where they stopped for breath. "I can teleport us within Lycanth," Crest gasped. "Wh-which city?" She'd forgotten that lovely knowledge till now, which annoyed her. She should have remembered that detail, having all but ran Draug's kingdom for two years as a teenager.

"Blelish," Draug requested, "I live there generally." It was obvious she hadn't recognized him, or she'd have left him, most likely.

When her fingers twined into his thick golden fur, he was struck by how familiar it was, even though they hadn't met for so long. He remembered to shut his eyes before her bright pink magic flared. Some colors of magic were easy to stand seeing, like Gwen Tennyson's green, or Queen Chandrisa's pale silver, but Crest had that eye-destroying color. It often served to remind him just how different she was from any other woman he knew.

They landed in his office in the palace of Blelish. While teleporting within the borders of Lycanth was quite possible, perhaps even easier than it was to teleport while outside of the country, magic was just as inclined to odd moments whenever teleporting occurred. This time, at least, they were spared from an awkward landing. Instead, Crest landed draped across a bookshelf, and Draug was sprawled on top of all his papers. His son stood in front of the desk still, an amused expression on his face. "Better than an awkward land," Fade drawled. "'lo Crestie, hi dad."

Crest blinked at the boy for nearly a full minute before her brain caught up. She bounded off the bookshelf and hugged the boy, lifting his slim form from the ground. "Heya Fade!" She released him to the ground, blatantly ignoring Draug. "How've you been?"

"Amused," Fade said, eyes twinkling. "I'm going to the Academy in Hell now, did you know?" A smirk grew. "Which reminds me, I need to break a promise."

"What promise?" Crest and Draug chorused.

"Oh, that one I made to Dad about not leaving you locked up in a room," Fade said airily, already out the door, "So kind of you to land in the office after I set the wards up." He waved cheerfully as he shut the door on the two horrified faces.

"Fade!" Crest shrieked.

Draug slumped into his chair, irritatedly messing up the desk with his paws. This was what he'd been afraid of. But he'd been drugged, and he'd needed to get back to his capitol so he wouldn't be missed.

He finally shifted back to his human form, and started in on his paperwork, since he might as well get something useful done. They sat in silence for hours.

Around the fourth hour they'd been in there, Crest turned from where she'd been standing in front of the door. "I still hate you," she announced, and turned back around, head moving to rest on the door.

Six hours after they'd been locked in, food appeared with a note. Draug went for the food, Crest went for the note. Skimming it, she dropped it with a sound of disgust. "That boy is mental," she mumbled, and stalked back to the door.

Draug peered at the note and blushed. It was sweet that his son was suddenly enthusiastic about his dad trying to woo Crest (or whatever it was Fade thought he should be doing), but he couldn't. He'd have to get her trust back before he could ever try that, before he'd let himself even contemplate that.

Eight hours in, he figured she had fallen asleep standing upright. "I'm sorry, you know," he said.

He would have sworn she was asleep, but she answered. Her voice was distant, a soft flute in the darkening room. "For what? It wasn't me you hurt."

"I did though, by lying," Draug said, resting his head on his hand, staring at her back. "And by being an idiot." A half-smile flashed over my face. "I have learned."

"You did it because you felt entitled, I know," Crest said, voice still absent. "But I'm not an admiring eight-year-old, Draug, or a furious twenty-one. I want the full truth."

"About what?" he asked, momentarily confused.

"Fade did this with your consent, whether you gave it vocally or not. I know how he is. What's your motive?"

Draug was silent. He couldn't very well tell her that he'd fallen in love with her, or how long this had all been in coming about. Finally, he settled on an answer. "I owed you an explanation," he said quietly. "You matter too much to keep not at least try."

Hour Seventeen saw them asleep, primarily dreamless, still in their respective positions. Hour twenty-four saw both werewolves awake once more, though silent.

"Whenever Fade lets us out, I won't try to keep you," Draug said, abruptly. "I know you hate me, I just…had to try." He shrugged.

Crest lifted her head from the thick oak door. "I never hated you," she said softly, and he nearly missed it. "But I have been absolutely furious." She shrugged. "I can't trust you, but I can forgive you, since it seems Risa has."

Her mind told her that the ideas that had been running through her head since the last short chat were bad for her, bad for trying to get rid of him, but that quieter part of her said there was no harm in trying. At the very least, she would see whether he had changed or not. "I'll stay for a while. I do need to rest…six years take its toll."

When Fade let them out, after Crest had been led off by his son to some place to stay in the massive palace, when he'd retreated to his rooms, Draug couldn't stop a goofy, puppy smile from spreading across his face. She hadn't said she liked him, hadn't even looked at him, but she'd forgiven him. It was a start. Draug knew that starts were important. He could only hope that she might someday feel like he did.

Sprawling onto his bed, the werewolf didn't allow himself to dream yet. Maybe one day, but for now, the knowledge that she was back where she belonged, that she might be at his side helping again, was plenty for the werewolf.

Love was acceptance of choices.

Hmm, not sure I like the ending all that much, but it'll do. Review if you like it, and remember: I only own Crest and Lycanth. My friend Risa owns Risa and Draug. My friend Maro owns Fade.

Ina & Fade should get an update sometime next week, since Chapter Eighteen is going fairly quickly.

Next in line for In Media Res is about Gwen and Koto, and I've already started on it. The title is Dumbstruck.