Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Written for the bbcmusketeerskinkmeme. Title comes from a line of dialogue in the play 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by William Shakespeare. See end of story for werewolf notes.

MET BY MOONLIGHT

d'Artagnan let out a careful breath. It was only a day or so until the full moon, he'd been very lucky to get into Paris undetected. The city's gates and boundaries were thick with guards and soldiers, every wolf who entered the city had to already be registered with a pack, or have solid plans to do so while in the city, and a packleader had to confirm such plans. d'Artagnan was not registered and didn't have any intention of approaching a pack.

He'd come to Paris to escape, Gascony only held memories of his parents, the only pack he'd ever known. Now they were both gone and he was a grieving omega. That was fine; he had no wish to become part of a pack again. He doubted any pack could bring him happiness now and his father was the only packleader he could ever imagine obeying willingly.

So here he was in Paris, his scent masked by the flowers he'd crushed between his palms and smeared across his skin. He shook with silent worry though, sensing the many Alphas who roamed the streets. D'Artagnan had been taught that as a beta, he'd be expected to submit to most Alphas. He'd always bared his neck to his father, but he hadn't met any other Alphas that had made him feel so comfortable and happy about submitting. Not many other Alphas had cared about his comfort or choice. The thought made him shiver.

He hunkered down in a stable, glad of the horses' company. They were only a little nervous about the unknown wolf hiding amongst the hay. The next day, he would move on. He'd have to keep moving. All he meant to do was survive, to lose himself in Paris.

He whimpered softly, missing his parents, his packmates, missing their tactile company. He slept with a frown on his face.

Athos paused mid-patrol. Aramis and Porthos slowed, a question clear on both their faces. Athos didn't say anything yet, he was sure he'd caught a scent, one that forcefully snared his attention and not just because it smelled like a wolf in pain. He narrowed his eyes and turned his head. The wolf smelled of others, as though he had pack, but those scents were fading at the edges. Whoever his pack was or had been once, the wolf had not been in their presence for some time, a sure sign of an omega.

Athos raised a hand to signal his discovery. Aramis and Porthos fanned out, both focused on foraging out what Athos had sensed. They didn't question him, not just because he was their packleader, but because he rarely acted like this about a scent. Porthos canted his head, his eyes flashing brilliantly in the moonlight.

"There's something, it's faint though."

"A wolf could have come through here hours ago," Aramis pointed out. "Or..."

"Or perhaps he's masking his scent," finished Athos, eyes still keenly sweeping the nearby streets.

Porthos scowled. "A runaway."

Athos was intent on catching the scent, leading the way down a narrow sidestreet, but his packmates had been correct, the scent was very faint and after an hour, they had completely lost all hint of it. He frowned; there'd been something about that scent which had made heat pulse through him, as well as a sudden and intense need to follow it. He encountered strange scents, omega scents, every day but they never caused such a reaction. So why was this one different?

Aramis clapped a hand to Athos' shoulder. "We'll look out for it again, and the full moon will no doubt pull him out of hiding."

Athos nodded slowly. He hadn't even felt such a tug towards Aramis and Porthos and they were his packmates. There were conclusions that could be drawn of course and Athos' friends were good enough not to mention them. Such conclusions made dread and refusal run through Athos' veins, and yet he still also thrummed with powerful yearnings to follow the scent, to know more, to find that wolf. The yearnings were so strong that he knew, with a sinking twisting heart, that he ultimately wouldn't be able to resist them, no matter what else he felt, for the scent had clung to him and the wolf it belonged to had been in pain, a thought which made something clench tellingly hard inside of Athos.

It had been many years since he had wanted a mate.

D'Artagnan could hear the howls. The moon was beautiful and silvery-white, a spectre rising to haunt him. He could not resist its pull though, especially as it had been days since he had last shifted. Everyone else was distracted, moon-mad and revelling in the closeness of their mates and packs. His smell and status would be stronger in wolf form, but he had little choice. Perhaps he would leave Paris tomorrow anyway.

He slipped out of the abandoned market and quickly shed his clothing, leaving it in a tight secreted bundle, easy for him alone to find once the night was done. He'd probably need to leave in a hurry.

He waited until a pair of wolves passed him, barking and darting together, entirely caught up in each other. The sight made d'Artagnan's heart ache.

He swallowed and focused on the moon. It was all that mattered.

His shift was slower than usual, it had been too long since he'd changed forms and now that he was pack-less, his wolf was reluctant and pained. d'Artagnan felt it to his core and let out a howl.

He ran.

Athos had been running with his pack for hours. There'd been thankfully few situations that had called for a Musketeer's hand that evening, so the pack had been free to run and enjoy the moon. Everyone else in Paris would be doing the same, and that usually meant that many crimes would be committed the next day because of most people's exhaustion and satiation. So the Musketeers would be required in full numbers tomorrow, but for now, they could let their wolves run and have their fill of the moonlight.

It did feel exquisite. Athos watched as Porthos, the largest wolf of the three with the darkest coat, pinned Aramis. They were both Alphas though, so Aramis refused to stay on his back for long. He snapped at Porthos and twisted free, lunging for Athos.

Athos was about to growl, not entirely playfully, when he tensed – there was that scent again.

He barked sharply, taking off down a nearby street. Aramis and Porthos were close behind, they had detected it too. They followed because they could sense its importance to Athos. That was all they needed to know.

Athos could feel the wolf's fear and grief. He keened, wanting to comfort and soothe away that pain. His long-held resistance to any kind of mate bond felt very far away, the moon making everything else feel so much sharper and clearer. To resist or ignore the omega wolf's distress would only further hurt the wolf in question. Athos could not add to the omega's pain. He was not that kind of Alpha.

He tried to run faster. Did the omega know Paris? He had to be new, for Athos not to have sensed him before. Aramis offered to try a different route, maybe he could cut off the omega's path? Athos barked his thanks.

The omega's fear was increasing. Athos snarled.

d'Artagnan was breathless but he kept running. He was being hunted, he could smell his pursuers. He didn't want to be forced into a pack or a mating; he just wanted to forget his pain, that was all. He didn't know where he'd go, but he was

going to have to leave Paris.

There was something twisting inside his chest, but he pressed on.

He could hear howls and then a sleek glossy-coated wolf appeared just in front of him. d'Artagnan yelped and tried to go in another direction, but the wolf, the Alpha, refused to let him, nipping the air and telling d'Artagnan to stay back. d'Artagnan snarled and tried to press on but the wolf was too strong and then two others arrived behind d'Artagnan. He was herded into a nearby ally, his heart beating fast. But something was trying to soothe him, there was an attractive addictive scent surrounding him and nobody was forcing him onto his back, not yet anyway.

The wolves were keeping close to him though, they were scent-marking him. d'Artagnan froze for a moment at the firm touches and then in a rush tried to get away again but the three Alphas prevented him, keeping him close between them. d'Artagnan keened, at the closeness and the contact, but his fear was a hard flood and he could not stop shaking.

One of the wolves nuzzled d'Artagnan's jaw, making a pained sound. His scent was the soothing addictive one and…oh. This wolf wanted to mate with him, that was the feeling in d'Artagnan's chest and the scent. His fear was not reduced by this realisation.

He yipped and tried to protest, he didn't want a pack, he couldn't…be anyone's, not now, not ever again. He wanted to keep running, it didn't matter how good being surrounded by warm caring bodies felt, or how drawn he was to this wolf with striking eyes and an insistent nature.

He couldn't…

The wolves all nudged at him, scent-marking him and learning his scent. None of them pounced on him or snarled him into submission. There was a safe feeling to their scents and it made d'Artagnan droop. Despite everything, he couldn't help pressing close to the Alphas, because the moon was so full, drawing out his most instinctive needy behaviour. Under his deep hurt, he yearned for the impossible presence of Alphas such as these, Alphas who seemed to actually want to care for him, to look after him. It'd been too long since he had felt anything close to this degree of kindness and comfort, under the full moon everything else felt so much worse. He whimpered out his pain and loneliness and grief. He couldn't stop.

The wolves guided him into a small empty building and into a barely-furnished room there. Maybe this was where they holed up during full moons. One of the wolves butted against d'Artagnan, telling him to lie down. A small burst of fright broke through his hazy thoughts; this was it then, the call for submission.

But they didn't charge him or even show teeth. They waited, impatiently but they waited. And d'Artagnan was tired and wanting, his fear and concerns rapidly melting away again, because the moon was still calling to him, powerfully calling forth his beta nature since he was surrounded by Alphas. He wanted to rest against them, he wanted to hold onto this addictive soothing feeling. He lay down on the bare floor without realising it, only aware that the other wolves were now satisfyingly closer having immediately piled up against and over him. The one who wanted to be his mate, the leader who smelled so good, curled around him protectively, crooning comforting noises.

d'Artagnan felt slow and thick with the sensation of being surrounded by Alpha wolves. The other two were nipping each other, laughing and growling and making sure that there was plenty of contact with d'Artagnan. You're safe, they were all saying, and d'Artagnan wanted so desperately to believe them. For now, his fears were gone, smothered by the moon and the concern and comfort blanketing him, he was being dragged under and he didn't, couldn't, resist. He had gone too long without it.

His tongue daringly darted out and lapped at the leader's muzzle, the briefest of thank-yous. The leader made a pleased noise and began grooming d'Artagnan, his tongue sure and his movements firm. d'Artagnan pressed into the touch, his grief suddenly twisting painfully because his parents had always done that before and now…

The other wolves all shuffled even closer, making noises to let him know they were there, wanting to soothe his pain. D'Artagnan let them. The leader finished grooming and looked at him carefully, rearranging d'Artagnan how he wanted him. Then he gently pressed teeth to d'Artagnan's neck. The instruction was clear – stay.

d'Artagnan burrowed closer to him, feeling so warm and needy still, unable to pull away from such comfort and connection. It was soothing aches and impossibly filling wretched gaps inside of him, and it felt wonderful. Why would he resist that?

When Athos awoke, he found that he had shed his wolf form and that his arms were full of a young pup wrapped in human skin. The boy was beautiful, his face fine-featured, his form wiry but strong. Athos leaned down to bury his face against the line of the boy's neck, it was the smell that had so caught his attention and had haunted him ever since. His mate.

Athos studied the boy, remembering his fear and how hard he had struggled to get away. He had been cut through with pain and grief and had made it clear that he didn't want a pack or a mate. Perhaps he expected to be forced. Such situations were regrettably common, but Athos had no intention of ever being that kind of Alpha. If he forced the boy to submit, to become his mate, what sort of footing did that give them? He did not want his mate to fear him.

He felt such a strong pull towards the boy, so unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He had been blinded once, blinded by lust, by something like love too. This felt different. Athos was glad of that.

He stroked a finger down the boy's neck and the boy's expression twitched as he burrowed closer to Athos. Athos' hold on him tightened, he did not want to let his mate go but he would not constrain him if the boy wished to leave, no matter how much it hurt to release him. He drank in the sight and smell of his mate, feeling close to contentment thanks also to the presence of his packmates who were wrapped around both Athos and the boy.

Speaking of which, the boy was waking, his eyes opening drowsily, then widening as he remembered where he was and what had happened. Now that the moon's influence had waned somewhat, his fear was strong again, a potent smell that turned Athos' stomach. He grasped the boy's chin, forcing his gaze upward, towards Athos. He was gratified to feel the boy relax just a hair, though his heartbeat remained fast and his eyes stayed wide.

Athos caressed the boy's cheek. The urge to claim and mate was strong, but he forced it back for now.

"What is your name?"

The boy swallowed but answered. "d'Artagnan."

"d'Artagnan, I am sorry for your loss."

The boy looked surprised, perhaps he didn't realise how connected Athos already felt to him, how much his scent was giving away, his grief like an open wound. Athos made a noise in his throat, wanting to comfort and soothe the young wolf. He knew what it was to suffer alone and to deserve it; he doubted this pup deserved such a heavily pained existence though.

d'Artagnan held his gaze, his jaw tense. "What are you going to do with me?"

Athos tucked an arm around d'Artagnan's waist, his hand spanning d'Artagnan's ribs, trembling with the omega's heartbeat. "That depends on you."

"It does?"

Athos smiled, just a little, though his thoughts darkened. Clearly Alpha wolves were not always courteous in this omega's experience.

"My name is Athos, this is Aramis and Porthos. We are the King's Musketeers and we are pack."

d'Artagnan glanced down at the other wolves, then back up towards Athos. "Three Alphas in one pack?"

His disbelief was warranted and Athos inclined his head. "Our pack bond is strong, despite lack of reason for such an occurrence. But we all left reason far behind us some time ago."

d'Artagnan was biting his bottom lip, his brow furrowed. Athos didn't push him, he was too focused on savouring every moment he had with the young wolf. D'Artagnan hadn't pulled away; his legs stayed intertwined with Athos'. Athos wanted to press closer, he wanted to hope, something he'd thought long lost to him.

This boy, who made his wolf croon and his skin sing. Athos leaned closer, all words taken from him, and nuzzled at d'Artagnan's cheek, before resting them forehead-to-forehead. He had the right of every Alpha to ask an omega to stay, to become a beta again, his beta, to become pack. But it was always to be a question, not a command, no matter what.

d'Artagnan was making a broken noise in his throat, his pain was so deep. He was without a pack, perhaps they had been slain or perhaps he had run because he had railed against them. Whatever the reason, Athos wanted with a fierceness to take that pain away. If Aramis were awake now, he would be looking extremely pleased and knowing. Athos was aware that he had once definitively claimed he would never mate, and that Aramis and Porthos had refused to believe him. He hadn't counted on d'Artagnan.

d'Artagnan tasted the air and sounded wondering. "You're worried, about me?"

Athos really wanted to know why d'Artagnan carried so much fear. He settled for a simple honest explanation. "You're in pain."

There was a sharp intake of breath and d'Artagnan nuzzled against him, a quiet courageous movement that made Athos' throat tighten. Then d'Artagnan spoke.

"My parents...the sweating sickness took them. I couldn't be there anymore, I just wanted to forget."

"So you came here."

d'Artagnan nodded, unable to stop himself from melting under Athos' careful caring touch. One wolf couldn't truly hide their intentions from another, and d'Artagnan could smell how Athos' possessiveness was layered with so much of that wholly unexpected care and concern. It made his pulse quicken, as did the vivid memory of Athos pressing his wolf teeth to d'Artagnan's neck the previous night.

Athos' growl was a rumble of approval and arousal, d'Artagnan could feel the Alpha's cock stiffening against his thigh. It didn't scare him, already on some deep unfathomable level, he trusted Athos. The Alpha had had plenty of opportunities to force d'Artagnan into a pack bond or into mating, but he hadn't. And he didn't reek of lies or twisted desire or any of the other scents that d'Artagnan had found unpalatable when interacting with Alphas before. d'Artagnan nuzzled against Athos, relishing the comfort of warm wolf bodies and uncomplicated affection.

Only it was complicated, wasn't it? Because Athos obviously wanted to mate with him and d'Artagnan had been running from the idea of pack as much as he'd been running from his pain and grief. He hadn't been able to outrun any of it though. He whimpered unhappily and Athos scraped teeth along his jawline before gently closing his mouth around d'Artagnan's earlobe.

"There is a place here for you, if you want it," he said quietly, his desire for such a thing rich in the corners of his voice.

Maybe he thought he was concealing his want, maybe he didn't, but d'Artagnan could detect it clearly. He liked the feel of that want a lot. He liked Athos, he liked how he felt with the Alpha, calm and soothed and loved. He wanted so much more of that, his wolf nature still wounded and very greedy.

Could he truly have this? Did he dare?

It was so different to how his packbond had felt with his parents. He remembered with fondness how his parents had looked at each other, how they'd run together, how their scents had combined.

d'Artagnan glanced suddenly at the other wolves, a sharp fearful thought suddenly occurring to him. "Any place I make with this pack, I wouldn't be expected...I wouldn't belong to all the Alphas, would I?"

He'd heard about packs with a minority of betas, how the betas got treated – frequently used by the pack's Alphas. There was the arid burn of anger in the air and Athos looked tense and hard at the suggestion. Such an instinctive reaction made d'Artagnan relax and almost sag with relief.

"Whoever you choose as your mate, the others would not seek to also claim you," Athos reassured him, his eyes flashing gold, his teeth sharpening.

d'Artagnan crooned, lifting a hand to stroke Athos' stubbled jaw and cheek. He didn't like Athos coiling and tensing, and he didn't like the deep rooted pain that he could sense in Athos too. He wanted to soothe the Alpha as the Alpha had soothed him. Athos leaned gladly into the touch.

They remained locked in silence, touching without words. d'Artagnan knew what he wanted, but it still seemed too good to be true – an Alpha who would not force his submission, a pack who would not all seek to take him, a pack...His parents had always said that pack was the most important thing, that without it, there was only pain and madness. But d'Artagnan had been sure that that pain and madness of an omega's life was preferable to the agony that he'd felt at his parents' passing. He'd also been sure that, with his pack gone, nothing would ever come close to making him feel happy again. Now though, now with Athos offering him so much, when even during a full moon he hadn't attempted to claim d'Artagnan, with d'Artagnan enjoying a taste of what he could have, he was pained at the thought of turning his back on such unbelievably rich and addictive spoils. How could he go back to being so painfully empty and alone again, to being an omega? How could he?

He pressed closer to Athos, knowing that his cock was hard and obvious, but Athos did not presume. He made a contented pleased noise in his throat and brushed lips and sharp teeth to d'Artagnan's temple, only his fingers touching d'Artagnan's throat.

d'Artagnan reached and intertwined their fingers, holding their combined hands to the trembling column of his throat, wordlessly communicating his frayed desire. Instinct had driven him to lie down with these wolves, he'd always been taught to follow such strong wolf urges, urges that currently felt stronger and sharper than they had done in weeks. He felt alive again. And he could smell the overwhelming genuineness of Athos' words and wants. That tipped everything over. Desire, desperate need and hunger curled searingly through d'Artagnan in response.

Athos wanted him, in a bone-deep beautiful way that made everything shudder breathlessly inside of d'Artagnan. He looked at Athos, knowing that the potent mixture of everything he felt, his worries, his concerns, his desires, were fogging around him, all there for the Alpha to read and pick apart. And he didn't care.

Athos growled and kissed him, tongue and teeth clashing, cocks brushing firm skin, until Athos pressed his teeth again to d'Artagnan's neck, the side not occupied with linked fingers. d'Artagnan moaned, a ball of pleasure and heat growing inside of him, wrapped in warmth, comfort, and affection. His posture was almost submissive. How was that possible? How could he refuse?

d'Artagnan could feel Aramis and Porthos beginning to wake, both of them smelling amused, affectionate, and pleased. d'Artagnan closed his eyes and clung on fiercely. He wasn't the only one.

-the end

Author Note: For those wondering, with werewolves, an omega is a lone wolf without a pack and so is considered dangerous as they don't have a pack's stability or calming influence. An alpha wolf is more dominant and a beta is more submissive. d'Artagnan was a beta when part of a pack, but as his pack is gone at the start of this story, he's considered an omega.