Chapter Text
Lord Namjoon loved his husband, Lord Jimin. They had known one another for much of their lives, and though the marriage was political, Jimin’s happiness had mattered to him since their squire days. The young Jimin had been sensitive, empathetic, and full of delight at all the small joys in life. The grown Lord Jimin was all those things still, though a bit more careworn, which made Namjoon even more eager to bring a smile to his face.
“Now that I know the White Stag is a shifter, I want him even more.” Lord Jimin’s tone was slow, drawling. He examined his perfect fingernails.
A warm breeze blew in through the tower room’s open window, ruffling Jimin’s hair. Namjoon gazed at his husband, heart swelling. It was impossible to deny him what he asked for.
Sightings of the White Stag had been rumored in the forest surrounding their castle for weeks, and finally Namjoon had sent out his hounds to investigate. Yoongi, the eldest of them, had not only found the deer, but learned that the fabled animal was, in fact, another shifter - a being whose features were part human, part animal, with the ability to appear as one or the other for a time.
“Shall I prepare the hounds for a hunt, then, my sweet?”
Jimin lit up with the suddenness of a candle wick catching fire, his heavy-lidded eyes crinkling into a pure smile. “Oh, Joon. Will you?”
“For you, anything.”
Lord Namjoon loved his husband. He also loved his hounds. It was unusual - even distasteful - for a noble to associate closely with shifters, but Namjoon’s hounds were his half-brothers, and as bastard brothers of a lord, they were afforded more privilege than most shifters in the land. Namjoon offered them quarters in the castle keep, and paid for the pursuits of their interests in exchange for their services as hunting dogs, and sometimes guards or spies. There were few shifters in the land outside of traveling mummers who, in human form, could devote the time to music, dance, or painting, and yet in Namjoon’s castle lived four skilled artists who could provide valuable entertainment on a long winter night.
The hounds delighted Lord Jimin as artists, but even more so as hunting dogs. Namjoon knew how they affected his husband. He was a smart man, and it didn’t take long for him to piece together that Jimin made love more passionately after a hunt. It would have made him jealous, perhaps, if he didn’t wish for something that would make his blood as hot.
They said that the White Stag could grant wishes. Perhaps if he caught it, it would grant him something that aroused him as much as his shifter brothers aroused Jimin.
***
Lord Jimin loved his husband, Lord Namjoon. They had been close since they were children, and no one knew Jimin as well, understood him as thoroughly, or made him laugh as joyfully as Namjoon. The taller man was an intelligent and measured leader with a big heart, with glowing golden skin and a kind smile. Their marriage had been arranged by their families, but Jimin was happy to share his life and his bed with a man like Namjoon.
He had known from his childhood that people of his rank rarely married for love, and that being wed to a friend made him very lucky. So he felt wracked by guilt whenever he felt his blood run hot, his cheeks flush, his clit swell whenever he saw Namjoon’s shifter brothers.
There were four of them - Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook - and Jimin would touch himself in the bath thinking of their artist’s hands, their sleek fur, their wild eyes and sharp teeth, imagining being at the center of a writhing mass of limbs, part warm skin and part soft fur, clawed hands at his throat and hot, dangerous maws on his sex. Nothing made him feel more deeply aroused than the sight of the pack of them hunting, bringing down some deer or boar together, imagining himself as their prey.
Worse, he was sure they were aware of his feelings. Apart from hunts, they usually took their human forms out of politeness when interacting with Jimin. But Hoseok’s smile would grow toothy and dark when he met Jimin’s eyes; Yoongi’s eyes would linger on Jimin’s throat; Taehyung’s bows were theatrical and often came with winks and licked lips, and Jungkook’s lips would linger hot over Jimin’s hand when he kissed it in greeting. He knew if he offered himself, they would take him.
So when he’d heard whispers of the White Stag’s presence, Jimin knew that he wanted to capture him, to wish that he could engage with the four hounds without hurting his husband.
***
When Namjoon arrived at his brothers’ quarters, a trailing melody greeted him through the door before Jungkook, in human form, opened it to let him in.
“Joon!” His youngest half-brother had an easy, silly grin and warm spark to his eyes.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of our lord’s visit?” Yoongi’s smirk was audible before he turned away from his lute to look at Namjoon entering the shifters’ cozy apartments.
Ruffling Jungkook’s russet hair, Namjoon let his eyes adjust from the brightness of the castle yard to the dimness of the interior space. Decorative fabrics, lush furs, instruments, and tools filled every corner of the stone-walled rooms. A thick, animal smell suffused the air, cut with the crisp tang of smoking herbs. Taehyung’s easel caught the light from the low windows, a painting in progress resting upon it with bowls and pigments scattered about. Yoongi and his lute were tucked into an alcove in the corner. Hoseok looked up from a quill and paper in the corner, as Taehyung walked in from the next room.
“Make yourselves ready for a hunt tomorrow. We’re going after the White Stag.”
The atmosphere in the room changed, suddenly electrified. Jungkook stood perfectly straight. Hoseok’s hand paused, hovering over the parchment. Taehyung’s golden tail began to wag, and Yoongi set down the lute and stood, shifting out of his human form as he did so.
He wasn’t truly taller in his natural form, but he looked it: rich, dark, red-tinged fur at his neck and chest contrasting against the pale skin of his belly; all points where on a human one would find non-threatening curves and soft edges. Golden, wolfish eyes smiled much less gently than human eyes in a human face, and the hands that could pluck such delicate music from strings became rugged, paw-padded, claw-tipped.
“Good,” he growled, eyes alight. “We’ll be ready at dawn.”
***
Jimin could hardly contain his excitement as the grooms saddled his and Namjoon’s horses. The summer morning was cool, a soft fog lingering still, not yet burnt off by the sun. The warm smell of horses and the wet, fresh scent of dawn mingled, more refreshing and energizing than fresh juice or coffee. Namjoon’s brothers stood a little ways off, stretching and riling each other up for the hunt ahead, and Jimin let himself watch them out of the corner of his eye, Jungkook bothering Yoongi, snuffling into his neck fur while the older batted at him with a paw-hand that looked heavy and dangerous, yet delicate and alluring to Jimin. Hoseok caught him looking, and gave him a wide, toothy grin, stark white against black fur. Jimin looked away sharply, and turned his attention to the buttons at his shirt cuffs.
He was grateful for the opportunity to turn his attention fully to Namjoon when his husband stepped close to him, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. Jimin looked up into Namjoon’s face, and saw kindness, and love, and wisdom, as he did every day, and felt a thudding pang of guilt.
“Let’s find out if the White Stag grants wishes like the legends say,” he said softly.
“What would you wish for, my love?” asked Namjoon.
Jimin smiled. “Legends say wishes don’t come true if you tell them first, Joonie.”
He turns to take his horse’s reins from the groom, thanking the man. He kisses Namjoon sweetly before turning to stroke his horse’s neck, letting her nose at his chest before slipping her the molasses biscuit that he always brought for her, mounting up as she crunched on the treat.
Moments later, Namjoon swung up into the saddle of his own horse, a tall and steady grey mare. Jimin had to admire his husband - tall, imposing, dark silver hair and robin’s-egg-blue cape playing beautifully against the cloudy hide of his mount. He would ask Taehyung to paint Namjoon like this, and soon.
His attention was caught by the shifters again when Yoongi spoke, in the slightly uncanny voice made by a shifter’s natural body.
“If you’re ready to go, then,” he said, failing to mask his impatience, “we’ll be dogside. Signal if you need.”
Namjoon nodded, and all four of the brothers shifted into their four-legged forms, perfect for covering ground quickly. Jimin knew they’d shift back and forth between their animal forms and natural forms over the course of the hunt to gain whatever advantage they needed over their shifter quarry, and felt a rush of anticipation considering it.
Touching his heels gently to his mare’s sides, he kept pace with Namjoon as they followed the hounds out of the castle gate.