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 Jon obviously thought his nightly visitor remaied unknown to Elias. Jon somehow still thinks anything on his estate remains unknown to Elias. It makes affection curl in his chest, that his bait-stag is still the naif who was so easily captured even after all their years together.

Even if the estate weren't laced with guards and dogs and watch-spells and gossiping servants, he would know something has changed. After the volatility of his early days on the estate, Jon has settled into stony distance, a tool honed near-perfectly for its task.

Until their wasted hunt for the Beast of the Northern Forest.

Jon is obviously shaken at the failure, even though Elias has never been an unreasonable man. His bait-stag has settled into his role, but he'll never be an actor, guileless creature that he is; actually tempting their prey into a duel was a long-shot, and he doesn't blame Jon. 

Initially, he did put the change in Jon's demeanor down to the change in routine. They haven't had a failed hunt since the very first time he took Jon into the field with him; the bait-stag thrives on routine, the same meals delivered at the same times, the same training on the days when they have neither a hunt nor a visitor, consistent expectations with no surprises to shake him from his detachment. But the failure didn't just leave Jon on edge. No, it seemed to have loosed his control entirely.

Jon cried on hunts; it was another part of their routine. He did not cry during training, or at meals; if he cried sometimes at night, alone in his room, it was out of Elias' sight, and thus irrelevant. He particularly did not cry in front of guests, nor did he flinch at any but the most unexpected or violent touches. Elias tried to be compassionate, merely warning the bait-stag of the consequence should he embarrass his owner in such a way instead of having him whipped immediately on the nobelwoman's departure. Nobles wanted beautiful racks of antlers to adorn their walls, and curiosities swathed in shimmering cloth to poke and coo at, not tearful reminders that there was something so uncouth as violence involved in their transactions with Elias. A sobbing, cringing bait-stag was bad for business, but Jon had had a shock, failing to capture the Beast, and with hunting season at its end there was no following expedition to restore his confidence in his abilities and place in Elias' esteem.

But the crying continued; better hidden, perhaps, and even occasionally aided by handkerchiefs or potions furtively passed on from the servants (he didn't mind, so long as the materials were coming from their own pockets). Stranger still, even when Jon stood silent and pliable, the impassiveness he had worn for years faded from his face by the day. Once, Elias even caught him gazing into the distance with a faint smile on his lips.

He wasn't such a fool as to believe that Jon was coming to enjoy, rather than merely tolerate, his place at Elias's side after so many years. There was almost certainly an outside influence. He had the stewards and guards increase surveillance on the servants, kept his own eyes focused more sharply on Jon's room, but caught no soft-hearted, fractious maid slipping him treats or words of comfort. Stranger still, Jon's shape beneath his clothing began to change, ever so slightly, an obvious sign that he was eating something besides the food whose nutrition Elias so carefully balanced for him.

It was nearly a month after their last hunt that Elias had definitive proof of Jon's nighttime visitor. A guard's report of the merest flash of antlers smoothing into Flight at the edge of the property, and the bait-stag still securely tied in his room when checked.

It took careful planning and adjustment to catch further glimpses of Jon's guest; if it was who Elias suspected, any watch-spells placed too close might be noticed, and too many guards might affright his quarry into permanent Flight from the estate.

But the Beast grew bolder as time went on- even the few scraps of interaction between him and Jon Elias did catch sight of were obviously comfortable, any fear of discovery dissipated by long security. The two grew more careless still as winter truly settled, bringing with it shedding season for those stags without such attentive carers as Jon possessed. It was common knowledge- or at least, common suspicion- that stags mixed with the human population once their telltale assets were gone for the season, and this one seemed no exception. Elias had only sighted the Beast of the Northern Forests once, through a screen of underbrush, but he had a sharp memory. He only needed one glimpse of Jon's visitor, no longer so cautious as he had been with his antlers in full glory, assuming that he would be able to blend in among the human servants when he briefly sojourned across portions of the estate. Patience made the man, particularly for a hunter, and Elias' pride in his own grew at the confirmation that the greatest prize the guild had ever seen was making himself at home on Elias' very grounds every night.

He could have acted rashly, lined the perimeter of his land with traps that might have caught the Beast- or, more likely, scared him away for good- but he hadn't gained his reputation and fortune by being a rash man. Any trap or ambush on the grounds would have to be carefully planned- they would only have one chance.

In the meantime, Jon continued to decline. His thoughts often strayed, and he no longer seemed able to contain his reactions. He moved through the motions of his daily schedule as obediently as ever, but the fear and hatred in his eyes were no longer hidden by a haze of dissociation. Elias drew no attention to the lapses, so long as they remained merely annoying rather than actual obstacles. Eliding away a few lapses in behavior now would bring him the ultimate prize later; so long as Jon thought he was getting away with something, he didn’t think to warn the Beast away.

He allowed things to continue through the winter. The Beast was little good to him now, with his antlers shed for the season, and the more he was able to come and go unmolested the easier he would be to capture when they grew back in. On idle nights, kept near to the hearth by clouds of snow and icy terrain, Elias had wondered how Jon would react, when the noose finally pulled taut and he lost his little friend. Perhaps he would return to his usual blank obedience, but Elias couldn't help but savor the potential that he might lash out, return to his early defiance after being allowed this slip of freedom. It would be interesting, to see him break again.

And if he didn't, it hardly mattered. With the Beast of the Northern Forest's antlers on his wall, Elias won’t need a bait-stag. He won’t need to hunt ever again, if he doesn’t want to. The antlers would fetch a king's ransom, and he knows his God aches for its death, though he didn't question why. He would have more worldly and divine bounty than he would know what to do with. If Jon refused to settle, he could always be disposed of.

With Jon's tongue clipped out and Gabriel contracted to reshape his antlers again, he would be easily sold on to a noble desiring a particularly exotic pet, and the secret to Elias' success would never leave his grounds. Another princely sum to buoy his retirement.

He entertained often, in between daydreaming about future riches and plotting the Beast's downfall. Peter and Simon were regular visitors, let into his plans to hunt the Beast just enough for Elias to skim any moments of uncharacteristic brilliance, the greater picture hidden from them. He knew the rush of the hunt and of being part of such a momentous acquisition would be enough to smooth over any annoyance over Elias keeping secrets, if he needed them when the day came.

Others came, as well. He was always well-respected for his skill as a hunter, but Jon had made his rise meteoric, tempting elites from all over to pay him a visit, trying to source their next acquisition or merely there to gawk at the only live stag most of them were ever likely to see. The visits only grew more frequent once winter became spring, which eased its way into hunting season.

He had some concern that Jon would fail to perform, after being allowed to grow soft all winter, but he managed admirably on their first hunt of the season. Sullenness still didn't suit him, but it didn't interfere with his function, either.

Unannounced visits weren't uncommon- nobles might afford each other courtesy, but Elias, for all his hard work, has no title. One of the things he hopes he might capture with the Beast's antlers. It was slightly more uncommon for someone so important to arrive so early in the season- most made their requests for him to set aside antlers in specific dimensions or price ranges via letter, or as asides at any one of the summer's numerous social events, and saved any in-person visitations for later in the season, when he had more wares for them to browse. Still, he was ever the gracious host. Particularly for someone so obviously powerful and wealthy.

Jon's eyes are red-ringed, when Elias brings their visitor to his room, but he was neat and not actively weeping, so he supposed it would have to do. Jon was well-used to the routine of visitors, allowing Elias to pet his hair without complaint.

He isn't expecting his guest to offer to buy Jon.

He's had a number of offers, over the years, all far too low for him to even consider, though he's kept a list of interested parties for when Jon is eventually retired. But none of them have made the suggestion with the bait-stag in the room.

It's gratifying, how Jon immediately stiffens and gives him a wide-eyed, desperate look. Elias pets his hair again in reassurance, and smirks at how Jon leans into the gesture. “I’m afraid he’s not for sale."

“I can assure you, price is not an issue.”

Jon continues trembling faintly beneath his hand, eyes pleading up at Elias. He might have considered such a generous offer, before the Beast was within his grasp. But even if his crystallizing plan allowed time to train a new bait-stag, Jon himself has proved integral to baiting him into the open. “Jon is far more valuable to me than money.”

His eyes flicker over his guest as he continues to press. It's crass to mention such a thing in front of Jon, rather in a more appropriate venue like Elias' office, and crasser still to continue to press after being refused.

What had he introduced himself as, again? Elias is suddenly sure that in the scramble to accommodate someone of his stature on such short notice, he didn't actually ask.

“With Jon, I’m going to capture the Beast of the Northern Forest," he prods.

It certainly has an effect on Jon, who goes stiff in his arms. It is, after all, the first time Elias has made even the faintest allusion that he knows about their little trysts. Elias smooths his hair and watches their guest's reaction.

The man looks surprised, maybe even a little put off. Not unreasonable, given the scope of the boast, but...

"That's... very impressive. How?"

...there's something in his face that doesn't seem like the interest of a collector. Elias releases Jon, steering their guest back toward the house. He doesn't intend to tell this stranger the truth, but he certainly isn't going to let any further morsel meet Jon's ears.

-

When the guest leaves- not after several more attempts at persuading Elias to sell Jon to him, and a more distant reaction to the idea of capturing the Beast than he'd anticipate, particularly from someone clearly possessed of the means to put in a competing bid for his antlers- the guards have to lean against the dogs as he steps into his carriage. The animals strain and snap at the ends of their leads all the way down to the gate, pawing between the bars as the carriage leaves the grounds.

If that weren't confirmation enough, Jon receives no visitors that night.

Nor the next. Nor the next.

After a week of absence- worry and abandonment clearly wearing on the stag, much as he tries to hide it- Elias has solidified his plan. The Beast of the Northern Forests is an even more powerful foe than he anticipated, but he has a weakness.

The Beast of the Northern Forests wants Jon. Will go to foolish, reckless lengths to get him, even more foolish than habitually visiting a hunter's estate by night.

He contacts Simon and Peter, shares their part in his plan, and wakes Jon early the day before the hunt. He wants as much time as possible to prepare him for his role, and a smattering of older bruises beneath fresh will make it even more compelling.

Jon's eyes remain adorably confused as he stands, head tilted at the novel idea of having to be gotten ready for a hunt a day early. Some inkling of suspicion starts to creep in as he asks, "What are you doing?"

But he still looks almost betrayed when Elias hits him.

Jon keeps trying to escape and question him as the blows continue- three seem plenty to Elias, particularly once his signet ring opens up a gash on Jon's cheek. It's satisfying, to exercise such visceral violence- it's been a long time since such a thing was required of him, with Jon's streamlining of his process- but there's no need to wound himself pummeling the stag. He pays people for things like that.

He makes a show of examining Jon, shaking his head and frowning before taking down his lead. "Come along."

He can see the fear in Jon's face, but he doesn't start to resist until their feet hit the dirt of the arena. It's almost amusing, to see him finally fight back. He lets his good humor show on his face. "Jon. Come here."

The stag's eyes are wide, rolling in fear now. “Elias, I—I—I haven’t done anything,” Jon says, and he could laugh.

"Haven't you? Entertaining a stranger on my property?" Jon's eyes blow wide in shock- oh. He actually thought he was getting away with something. "Lying to my guards? Neglecting to inform me of an opportunity to capture the most coveted trophy among hunters?" Jon knows full well that Elias looks on lies of omission as harshly as any other. He's shaking, now that the list of his sins is being tolled out like his own funeral bell. "Do any of those sound familiar?”

“H-how did you—”

The same thing he knows everything that transpires on the estate, poor, foolish animal. “A better question is: why did you think such actions would stay hidden from me?”

Jon's mouth gapes and works, trying to find an answer that will stall the forthcoming punishment- Elias thinks he's entirely forgotten the hunt, now wholly wrapped up in trying to save his own hide. Jon has always been a fundamentally selfish creature, after all, for all his talk of Right and Wrong. His knees seems jellied by the revelations, and he follows Elias down into the dungeon easily enough. He doesn't start pleading again until they've arrived, shaking hard now.

Elias ignores him, passing the chain to Trevor. The man grins viciously; he's wanted the stag back in his domain since Jon's first visit, years ago.

"Leave a mark."

He trips up the stairs and out of the dungeon, Jon's cries muffled by the door behind him, with his heart light and his muscles buzzing with excitement.

-

Trevor does his job well, if the screams that ring up even through the layers of stone and metal between the dungeon and the rest of the estate are anything to go by. It's rare Elias gives him carte blanche like this, particularly with a victim as prized as Jon; he thinks the man views it as something akin to a holiday bonus. When Elias takes a servant down that evening so that they can put Jon back in his room and he can survey Trevor's work, he's more than satisfied.

Even without the Beast's demonstrated affection for Jon, he makes a pitiable sight, tear-stained and bloody and begging. Elias can hardly sleep for excitement.

In the morning, Jon moves stiffly, eyes gummy with dehydration, but he still has the cheek to resist Elias' hands when his owner pulls him awake. He still crumples pathetically easily, at barely a touch from Elias to one of his new injuries.

"What's the point of this?" Jon asks as Elias binds his wrists behind his back, though without a trace of the outrage he might have expected. He thinks the stag might still be merely confused at the things happening to him, not comprehending enough to put up a real resistance. He makes a charming picture gagged, all the same.

Jon's usual restraints are selected for their unobtrusiveness, meant to disguise his status from their prey, but this hunt requires something different. The more clearly Elias' Jon is, the easier it will be to bait the Beast; the collar makes that claim quite clear. Jon's eyes widen as it latches around his neck, and Elias smiles. It's an accessory he might need to bring out more often, in future. Jon leashed alongside the dogs, another piece of his retinue, would be a lovely tableau for future visitors.

He staggers, stiff-kneed, the whole way to the shrine, but Jon's too weak by now to put up any proper resistance. He shouts through the gag and thrashes, nearly upturning the altar, and sudden rage sparks within Elias, upsetting his good mood.

He shoves the stag to the ground, turning the collar to iron with a thought. Jon writhes and gags for a long moment before Elias tamps down his anger enough to find a bit of mercy and turn the collar back. Jon trembles and tries to curl up, but Elias drags him upright, toward the altar. He holds the knife up to the stag's face, relishing the terror in his eyes, before cutting a neat slash down one of Jon's cheeks, collecting the blood for the offering and leaving the wound open.

He's afraid, once his own blessings have been performed and his wounds healed, that he might have to drag Jon down the stairs like a pelt used for training the dogs. He looks as though he can barely stand. He manages, though, too afraid now to fight Elias on this.

Peter and Simon are waiting outside, jovially unaware of the way Elias' mood has been soured.

"And I'd thought he'd mastered looking pathetic before," Simon says, eyes twinkling.

"Looks like you missed a spot," Peter says, and then Jon is on the ground, retching.

Elias anger sparks again. Even if he weren't already in a poor mood because of Jon's behavior, he dislikes others touching the bait-stag without permission, particularly to harm him. That privilege should await Elias' orders alone, as the god of Jon's small universe. "I’d appreciate a little more restraint. This is going to be a rather delicate operation, and your over-zealousness could easily put everything in jeopardy.”

Peter has the grace to look at least a bit chastened, as they load into the carriage.

He reviews the plan as they ride toward their destination, both because Peter is evidently feeling particularly stupid today and because Jon is so obviously paying avid attention. Elias doesn't think he even notices the tears that leak down his cheeks every so often to be absorbed into the fabric of the gag.

Peter and Simon balk when it becomes clear the Beast has some knowledge of their plans; there's a reason Elias has never concerned himself with either man using his unique level of knowledge of Jon's creation to copy the process on their own, and it's because neither is a true hunter. Even if they followed his God, neither has the courage to truly excel without Elias' guiding hand. He dismisses them to their hiding places with a scoff, tugging Jon along behind him to the site of their previous attempt.

When Elias has Jon kneeling on the grass, shaking and swaying, he almost thinks the stag might pass out from the strength of emotion alone before their bounty even arrives.

That worry is set aside when Jon goes stiff, and Elias follows his gaze to see the Beast of the Northern Forests stepping out from the edge of the clearing. Jon starts whimpering.

His antlers are as resplendent as Elias remembered, making him seem nearly like another of the trees, their branching spread lacking only foliage to complete the comparison. He's changed his carriage to match the spell he cast to toy with their emotions, no longer standing like the concerned creature Elias has glimpsed ministering to Jon since their first meeting. He looks like he actually expects a challenge, today, rather than resting on the knowledge of his strength and acclaim.

Good. It's only right that he know to fear Elias. Elias is going to be the one to finally mount that glorious rack.

The Beast only has eyes for Jon, taking in every bump and bruise, the gashes visible through tears in the same blood-stained clothing he wore yesterday, the tears tracing his cheeks and the collar around his neck. When he's finally looked his fill, he turns cold eyes to Elias. "Well, you have my attention."

Elias smiles, and begins his part of the show. "I'm glad to hear it. I'd like to make a deal with you."

The chain in his hand rattles as Jon shakes his head and cries out through the gag, pleading with the more impressive specimen to flee. The Beast's eyes turn back to him, but his words are still for Elias. "Interesting method you've chosen to convince me." He shifts, as though wanting to stamp his feet in the sort of challenge he'd offer one of his own kind.

"I assumed you would need some kind of incentive." Elias lets his teeth show, glittering in the summer sun. "You want to keep him safe, don't you?"

He can see the Beast bristle at the taunting lilt he infuses the words with, but his words are soft. "More than anything."

(Oh, this is even better than Elias thought. He hasn't just befriended Jon, he's in love with him. It's just too perfect!)

"Excellent. Then I challenge you to a duel. If you win, you can have Jon."

Who seems near-collapse, probably light-headed from his insistent efforts and shouting his would-be lover away, but they pay him little mind as they hash out the particulars of their terms. It all goes quite quickly, once Elias twitches a bit of magic down the chain and sets Jon writhing at the touch of iron. Even if the Beast were to win, Jon would probably die without Elias alive to intervene and his only companion a creature just as stung by the metal's touch.

"I accept your terms," the Beast says, and-

Elias means to go through the motions of beginning a duel, the kind the Beast would have an equal chance at winning, but finds himself unable. Try as he might to shift his arms or legs, they seem rooted to the spot.

The Beast trots over to Jon- who has shut his eyes and turned his face away, braced for a shot Elias finds himself unable to fire- as though Elias is beneath notice, hissing sweet nothings to Jon as though he's already won.

Whatever trick the Beast has pulled, Elias feels a spark of victory when his hands touch the collar and he hisses in pain but-

The collar falls to the ground, neatly split in two. Jon goes limp, leaning into the Beast's ministrations as he removes the ropes and gag and pulls him into an embrace.

"Where's Elias?" Jon whimpers.

"You don't need to worry about them," the Beast says, shooting a hard look at Elias over Jon's head, "Not ever again."

Jon worms away, glancing back at Elias, eyes hazy with disorientation. As they should be, with the axis of the stag's world thrown out of alignment like this. If he could only move he'd show them both a thing or two-

"Well. They entered into a contract with a god intending to cheat, so—I’m allowed to cheat a bit as well."

All the little things that didn't make sense, the Beast's reputation and the brazenness and the magic and his own God's desire for his blood- they all start to click together into a horrifying picture.

"What?" Jon mews, utterly failing to catch on. If he could show it, Elias' face would twist with the boiling anger he feels at this, this dishonorable trickery.

"It’s actually not a very difficult spell, just a bit dishonorable, so I’m not often allowed to—to use it," the Beast starts to explain, before being interrupted by a crashing in the underbrush at the edge of the clearing. 

He can't turn to see what happens, when Simon's voice shouts "Elias! It's a trap"- slow as ever, already too late- but by the Beast's expression of exasperation and Simon's scream, he has an idea.

And then the two stags just-

-walk away.

Turning their backs on Elias as though he's nothing.

-

By the evening of the next day, still frozen in place, Elias can't even stare after them for all the vines gripped tight around him, their weight sinking him into the soft earth.