A/N: This fic is available on FFN and Ao3.


It was Raiden who asked the question…a question he already knew the answer to.

He could see it on their faces, of course—the unease, the fear, the anger. He'd seen it all before on the faces of the officers and citizens who knew the truth. Maybe that was why he wasn't surprised when his question went unanswered, when the faces that have always been so open and friendly towards him—except in Marcel's case—were now anything but. It had only been a matter of time, really. Theo ignored it, Shin refused it, Anju and Kurena pushed it all aside, out of sight and out of mind. But the truth was always right there—always watching, always waiting, always one step behind them, a reminder that sooner or later, they all had to wake from their dreams.

Raiden was different; he had never really been asleep, never really thought this bliss could last forever. Maybe that was why, of all the Eighty-Six who could have walked through that door and heard those words at that exact moment, it had to be him. Because he loved these humans enough to tell them what they needed to know, but not so much that he feared what they'd do once they knew it. They didn't hold his heart like they did the others. They could reject him, and he would have the strength to go on. His fellow wolves might reject him, too, come to think of it, for breaking this fragile peace between them and their chosen partners. Shin, Theo, and even Anju…they may very well come to hate him for it.

If that were true, and his words were all it took to destroy the bond between human and werewolf…then it wasn't a bond that was meant to last.

So, he told them. He told these wide-eyed, frightened humans exactly what had happened in the Eighty-Six Sector and why. He told them a tale of disease and famine, of relentless heat and bitter cold. He told them of how the Eighty-Six had been forced to retreat into their animal forms more and more often, and for longer periods of time, in a desperate effort to stave off the Legion and the elements.

And he told them of how their transformations, a blessing in that way, soon became a curse in so many others.

"Some of us lived as animals for months straight. Some even longer. They all ended up the same way: They couldn't turn back."

They couldn't be spoken to. Couldn't be reasoned with. They'd lost themselves to the beast within, and became no different from mindless animals. Mindless animals who, when the only other option was starvation, were hunted down and consumed by their fellow Eighty-Six.

Raiden spoke simply, matter-of-factly. It had been inevitable, really. A human would have died in those hellish conditions, or else fallen prey to the Legion's infection. They'd done what they had to do in order to survive.

Silence reigned.

Then, "Were they all mindless, Raiden?"

Dustin.

Raiden studied his face for a long moment. He thought of the story he'd heard from his friend long ago, the story of a deer speaking to a wolf in the way a mindless animal could not…then that wolf ripping the creature's throat out, and eating him. Maybe he ought to leave that question unanswered, let Dustin decide for himself whether to seek the whole truth, or keep trying to cling to ignorance. Maybe Raiden shouldn't say it.

He said it anyway. "No."


Shin didn't care for stories much.

Maybe he had, once upon a time. Maybe, as a child, he had been the one to sit on his mother's knee and listen with rapt attention as she wove tall tales for him to enjoy.

Maybe. But not anymore.

This wasn't a world of fairytales where good always triumphed over evil, where the knight slew the dragon and married the princess and lived happily ever after. This was the real world, with real stakes and real consequences. Evil surrounded them on all sides, the good snuffed out at every turn. The knight, so noble and caring, was also the dragon who swallowed up innocents. And the princess…who knew what she was thinking?

She hadn't come to see him in a while, and he thought he knew why. He did know, actually, because Raiden, his fellow knight and brother-in-arms, had told him. Shin wasn't angry. Not really. He wished Lena had asked him before anyone else. He wished she could have heard the story from him instead of Marcel or Raiden…not that it would change much. But no, he wasn't angry. Not at those two for spilling, not at her for staying away. He was just…disappointed that the little fairytale he'd been weaving for himself had already come to an end.

"Shin."

Hadn't it?

He'd thought so. He'd thought their time together was coming to a close, slowly but surely, now that she knew the whole truth. So why was she here, standing before him, right outside his room?

Shin stood there, still several yards away, uncertain. Wary. He told himself that he would listen to whatever she had to say, and accept the results without protest. He would do as she asked, even if she told him she no longer wanted him in her life. He was ready for it; he was prepared. …So why was he so tense? So…afraid?

"Lena." He didn't know what else to say. His mind was a complete blank, at a loss as to what to do next.

Naturally, Lena decided for the both of them.

She walked over to him, and he resisted the urge to back away. When only a couple of feet separated the two, he forced himself to look at her, anticipating disappointment, anger, revulsion, or any combination of the three.

What he found instead was sorrow. Deep, profound sorrow.

"I'm sorry."

Those were the first words out of her mouth, the first he'd heard from her in what felt like a lifetime, though he knew it had only been a few days. Those two words were spoken with such sadness, such sympathy, such grace. They told him far more than any speech ever could: I'm sorry for what you've been through. I'm sorry that you were forced to do it. I'm sorry it took me so long to come to terms with it.

I'm sorry I wasn't there to share this burden that's been weighing on you for so long.

And it had been weighing on him. He put up a strong front for his team. He never said a word about how much it bothered him…but it did.

As one, they closed the gap between them, and embraced. Then and there, Shin knew his story with Lena wasn't over. He didn't know what sort of ending it would have, be it a happy one or otherwise. Maybe they were only setting themselves up for more heartache down the line. But as he pressed his face into her hair, as he felt her arms squeeze him tightly, he couldn't bring himself to care about the future. All he knew, all that mattered, was that their story wasn't finished. Not yet.

Not by a long shot.


The wolf in sheep's clothing.

Dustin was a listener of fables, a collector of stories. Few knew that reading them was a favorite pastime of his, or that the one that held his attention the most was this one: The story of a wolf who preyed on hapless sheep by disguising itself as one of them.

That story had always stood out to him, ever since he'd first heard it as a child. It might've been his first exposure to that thing called deceit, the idea that not everyone was who they claimed or appeared to be. When the adults in his life had seen how fixated he was on the tale, reading it over and over again, they shook their heads at him affectionately.

"Look at him," they'd say, "such an avid reader. He must really love that little tale."

Not true. Dustin hadn't read it because he liked that story. No, he'd read it because it scared him. The young boy had never been anything but open and honest with the people around him, and had always assumed everyone else lived the same way. Maybe that was why they called him soft. Gullible. Just the sort of sheep who would be snapped up by a wolf.

When he heard Raiden's grisly account, his brain couldn't help but make the connection. A gullible white sheep, entranced by the wiles of a charming, alluring wolf who could kill and eat him in minutes. Yes, in that split second, Dustin could not help but think of Anju.

And he spent the next several days hating himself for it.

Who was he to judge her? To judge any of them? They were citizens of San Magnolia, cast out of their homes, thrown into a man-made hell and forced to turn their fangs against one another just to live to see the next sunrise. Would Dustin have done things any differently had he been in their place?

If the answer wasn't an immediate yes, then he had no right to think such terrible, ugly thoughts about them. He had no right to be afraid, no right to—

"You're taking this a lot harder than I ever did."

Startled out of his self-loathing, he looked up from his place on the sofa to see Anju gazing down at him with that amused half-smile of hers, the one he'd always found so endearing. Today, though, it filled him with guilt, and Dustin's eyes found his shoes.

He felt her settle by his side, then lean against him. "I'll bet after hearing all that, you thought for half a second that I was going to eat you and have been hating yourself ever since. Am I right?"

Of course she was.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that," she said. "I rather like having you around."

It was a joke, but one that failed to lift his spirits. "I'm awful for thinking it, even for just a second," he mumbled. "It's not like you had a choice."

She pondered that. "Well, I did. I could have chosen to starve. Some of them had, you know." Anju spoke casually, as though they were only discussing the weather. "They'd chosen to die of hunger rather than live as killers. I can't say I blame them…but I don't regret my choice, either." She laid her head on his shoulder. "I've made peace with it long ago…so stop beating yourself up for being human and having human thoughts."

She spoke in a chiding manner, teasing him as she always did…but deep down, she felt a profound sense of relief. Anju didn't regret her decision, but she couldn't deny being afraid. Afraid that this gentle, noble soul would reject her for what she'd done, like so many others. Instead, he despised himself for even daring to consider it.

He's really something, isn't he?

She'll have to put in some extra effort to cheer him up later, but for now she was content to stay by his side—this wonderful boy who knew exactly what she was and chose her anyway.


"Do we really have to do this now?" Theo meant to sound indifferent. Instead, his voice betrayed how sullen he really was. How tired he really was. It made sense, logically; it was the middle of the night. But he knew the person standing outside his door, arms crossed and looking at him expectantly, was the true source of his exhaustion.

"Since you're so set on avoiding me every other time, yes," said Annette. She inclined her head towards him. "Mind if I come in?"

He did, actually. He minded a lot. Even now, it was hard to meet her eyes. The first time they'd spoken to each other in who knew how long, and it had to be about this. He felt sick just thinking about it.

And of course, it had to be Marcel. The worst possible reference for any kind of information, at least when it came to the Eighty-Six. Raiden was part of it too, and Theo sure wasn't going to thank him for it, but he knew who got the ball rolling in the first place and why. "Can't we talk out here?" he asked, hating that the words came out in a mumble. "Not a lot we've got to say to each other, is there?"

That wasn't true. He had quite a bit to say to her but couldn't imagine she had much to say to him. With this, the shredded remains of their relationship would be blown to the wind, irretrievable.

"Is that what you think?"

She glared at him as though she knew exactly what he was thinking—which she probably did. "Fine. Then I guess we'll talk about that time I had to brush you down like a dog right out here, where people can hear us."

His eyes widened, and for a brief moment, he forgot the wall between them and the tangled mess that were his feelings in favor of gaping at her, incredulous. "That's not what you came to talk to me about!" Was it?

"Of course not," she replied, "but I've no problem making everyone think that." There wasn't anyone awake at this time of night…or at least, there shouldn't be. And his fellow Eighty-Six were nothing if not very good listeners…

"Okay." He relented and stepped aside, clearing the doorway for her to enter and knowing he'd regret it before the night was over.

He regretted it almost immediately.

For the first ten minutes or so, they sat in complete and utter silence—him on the bed, her next to him even though he'd rather she be anywhere else. He could hear the seconds tick by on his analog clock, and each tick sounded like the impatient tapping of a finger telling him to get on with it. But he wouldn't. Annette was the one who'd sought him out. Annette wanted to have this conversation, not Theo. His usual nonchalance had deserted him, and in its place he felt a nervousness that sent tremors through his hands, so much so that he had to clasp them to keep them steady.

He hated this. He hated feeling so weak, so vulnerable. He hated Marcel for bringing it all up, and Raiden for laying it all out. And worst of all, he hated the fact that he couldn't hate Annette for the same reasons, even though, by all rights, he should. He wanted to tell her so many things. He wanted to apologize for hurting her, for being so afraid to commit even though he knew in his heart that he wanted to.

He wanted to ask if he still had a chance, even though he knew the answer to that already.

But saying any of those things would make them that much more real…so he said nothing. Nothing, that is, until her hand came into view and laid atop his own. Her fingers, warm against his cold ones, seemed to unlock something deep within Theo. Something that had frozen during that bitter, terrible winter and never thawed, even after the snows had melted.

Suddenly, it all came pouring out. He spoke quietly, more quietly than he ever had before, but once he started, he could not stop.

He told her everything. He told her about the starvation that had claimed so many lives. He told her about the predation that claimed so many more…and how the predators who couldn't live with what they'd done had taken their own lives in the aftermath. And then, he told her about the freeze. A blizzard unlike any they'd ever seen before or since, so great and powerful it even froze the Legion in their tracks—not that the Eighty-Six were much better off.

Finally, he told her about his commander. An Alba cervid who had been with him through everything, and had gone to look for him when he was separated from his squad. Even now, Theo wished he hadn't. The blizzard had trapped them in a cavern and cut them off from the rest of the world, and there, without any hope of rescue, their fate was all but sealed.

They would starve long before anyone even found where they were, much less dig them out. Theo had accepted it, after a few days. But even after a full week, the commander had not. He would die, certainly, because there wasn't a single speck of green anywhere for him to eat—and if he turned back human, he would freeze within hours. Not Theo, though. Theo would survive.

"I'll make sure of that."

Annette didn't ask for elaboration. She didn't need to, for it was abundantly clear what the commander had meant. "Theo…"

"I tried to hold out," he murmured. "Really, I did. I wanted to die with my head held high, like him. But the wolf said otherwise." He snorted derisively. "I felt that hunger gnawing at me, and I folded like a stack of cards. It was another week before they found me. And when they did…"

He had been the only living creature left in that cave.

"So, now you know." Annette had gone quiet, so Theo filled the silence. Only, he had nothing left to offer but his hatred for himself, spilling out of him like a broken dam. "The boy you love had killed his commander and eaten him. Others too, probably. Not like he ever stopped to check if they were mindless." Not that it mattered even if they had been.

Annette said nothing.

"Or are you gonna tell me that it's all okay?" He felt the panic rising within him at her lack of response. "Yeah, that'll be a story to tell the kids. Tell them about the time their dad chewed up his mentor and never mentioned it again, like it was nothing to him." Like it didn't matter, even though not a single day went by without him thinking about it. "Or how he kept pushing away the girl he loves until she left him and never came back." Even though it tore him apart inside to do it.

He could have gone on for hours. He had plenty to say about himself, after all. But that was when Annette broke her silence, and when she did, the last of Theo's words died in his throat.

"No," she said. "I'll tell them about the time his mentor gave his life to save him, and because of that, he's standing here with us. With me." She took a breath. "I'll tell them that he has a heart as golden as his hair, which was why he was in so much pain over what he had to do." Then she turned to face him. "And I'll tell them that's just one of the reasons he means everything to me."

For the first time that night, Theo looked her in the eyes. Really looked. She held his gaze, wanting him to understand, to see in her eyes what she hadn't been able to tell him in words that day.

Empathy, hope, faith…and overpowering love.

"Theo," she told him, "you're alive right now because of him. He wanted to save you, and he did. How can I be anything but grateful?"

She wasn't telling him that it was okay. Not exactly. But because it had happened, he was alive.

Because it happened, I found you.

For a long moment, he could only stare, his eyes filled with unshed tears. Maybe one day in the future, he'd accept the gift his mentor had given him and finally let them fall. But not tonight.

Tonight, he let himself have this one thing—the glorious gift that was Henrietta Penrose.

Who made the first move? Neither knew the answer to that. Neither cared.

He cared for nothing but the feel of her arms around his neck. She cared for nothing but the feel of his lips on hers. He didn't let go even as they tumbled, even as some small part of his mind wondered if maybe they were moving too quickly and might have lingering regrets in the morning.

But even as he thought that—or more accurately, vaguely registered it beneath the waves of longing and passion and burning desire—he knew it wasn't true. He would never regret giving himself to her, this girl who loved and accepted every part of him as naturally as she did herself—as though they were extensions of each other, two halves of one whole.

The next day, when she pulled him into the canteen, their clasped hands told the whole story.

He would never let go of her again.


"Looks like your plan didn't work out, huh?"

Marcel looked up from his book to find Raiden leaning against the wall, watching him impassively. He went back to reading. "I didn't have a 'plan'. I just wanted the humans to know what they were getting into. And I guess they do now." His anger had cooled to a simmer, a resignation of sorts. Let them do what they wanted, as long as the wolves never turned their fangs on anyone else again.

"What about you, though?" Marcel asked after a moment. "What was your aim, just laying it all out like that?"

Raiden shrugged. "Just testing something, that's all." A theory of sorts.

"And were you right, or wrong?"

At that, Raiden had to smile. It was a dry smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Dead wrong, thank goodness."


A/N: So after who knows how long, I'm finally back to finish this story. I won't bore you with the details, because you've probably heard them all before (namely, life and especially college demanding my undivided attention). Instead I'll take this opportunity to thank everyone who stuck around to see this thing through to the end, even though the end came way sooner than I anticipated.

I had a lot mapped out for ToG, but due to circumstances, none of those things are possible anymore—partly because of school, and partly because I'm just not as present in this fandom as I used to be. I still have a soft spot for this little werewolf tale, though, so rather than leave it in limbo forever, I'm going to wrap everything up and give it a true ending (one I hope you'll still enjoy). Also, the next chapter will not have all these split POVs. I only did it this time around to resolve the last chapter's cliffhanger.

Tales of Giad will end with its eighteenth chapter.