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Chapter Text

A death was always a community affair, the garrison was in part a family, every man took care of each other, Athos had learned rather quickly that in order to survive you needed to rely on those around you. That didn’t mean it had been easy, most of the time people thought he was still unapproachable but he’d made the effort to at least seem friendly.

Aramis and Porthos had largely helped with changing his attitude, for the first few months of him being with the Musketeers the three of the were inseparable, where one went the other two followed. Athos had just begun to get use to the feeling of having people in his life again when a harsh winter hit.

It began with Aramis, he started speaking less, not just to Athos but to everyone around him, he became a sack of muscle and bone and not much else, it took Porthos begging for him to eat most days. Of course with Aramis falling into despair Porthos was sure to follow, he was like a loyal mutt, always following its master, even into dark and dangerous territory.

Winter left and so did any progress he’d made with Aramis and Porthos.

It left Athos alone and unable to function. He’d gotten so use to having them around it was like having Thomas ripped from him all over again. Expect this pain was almost worse because Aramis and Porthos were in reach and not six feet under. He told himself that he was fine, he didn’t need them to survive through the long days and even longer nights. Deep down he knew how ridiculous that notion was.

“Saying goodbye to a brother is never easy.” Treville looks as steady a mountain, his voice is strong and confident. Rain pelts down into the garrison, soaking everything. Athos feels like he’s drowning in his uniform. “Dirks was a good man, hard working and always willing to lay his life on the line for his fellow musketeers and his country.” He’d been injured during a battle with the red guards, the wound hadn’t healed properly and it killed him. Dirks left behind a wife and little boy, Athos knows Treville will do whatever he can for them but it won’t be enough.

Treville beckons Athos up with him, confused he climbs the stairs to meet him. “As tragic as this event has been, the garrison needs to remain a united front, with a strong leader.” He turns to him, there’s a sad smile on his face, however Treville’s eyes glow with a pride Athos has never known before. “The men have taken a vote and have decided that you’ll be the new lieutenant.”

He gestures for Athos to kneel, he does, and pulls his sword from his hip. “Do you promise to uphold the honour and dignity of the musketeers?” Athos looks up toward Treville, there’s a sweat on his brow and his leg trembles but he feels a confidence in himself. “Do you swear to lead these men into battle bravely and without fault?”

“I do.”

Treville knights him, a proud grin on his face. Athos stands, his gaze falling into the men gathered in the square, they’re soaked to the bone, no one moves to fight against him, instead they seem to hold themselves taller, their heads held high, despite how cold they must be. The captain turns back toward the musketeers, his serious facade slipping back into his face. “You have your assignments for the day, get on with it.” Without waiting for a response, he walks back into his office and shuts the door.

Athos stands by Treville’s office, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s never been responsible for this many people before.. he couldn’t even keep his kid brother alive, how could anyone expect him to keep the entire regiment alive and well? Tipping his hat in front of his eyes, he made his way down the steps, trying to fight the feeling of distraught creeping it’s way up his skin.

“For someone whose climbed the ranks you don’t seem that happy.” His heart nearly stops in his chest, no matter how many times he’s heard Porthos’ voice he’ll never get use to its deep vibrations, laced with a soulful accent. Athos scowls to himself, hating how he’s allowed Porthos to get past his defences and plant himself in the most intimate parts of himself. He hates it even more that he misses the younger man.

He debates walking right past him but Athos has a feeling Porthos would stop him, whether he intended to or not. “I don’t deserve it.” He replies, climbing down the rest of be steps to meet him. Up close Porthos looks horrible, there’s bags under his eyes and it looks like he hasn’t eaten a proper meal in days. “I’m sure Treville will come to regret his decision.”

Porthos scoffs, leaning back against the railing with his arms crossed. “I don’t think he will, besides it was the regiment that choose you, not Treville.” Athos supposed that was true, still the captain had the power to take away the position whenever he wanted. And with how self destructive he was, Treville was more than likely to revoke the vote. “You’re always doing that, you know, putting yourself down when there’s no need for it.”

Once before another man had said that to him with a smirk on his face and a worried glint in his eye. It still surprised him how much he recognized Thomas in both Aramis and Porthos. “Old habits are hard to break, where’s Aramis?” They never went anywhere without the other, as far as anyone was concerned they were joined at the hip.

Porthos’ face shifted into worry, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “He’s asleep.” He didn’t give Athos anything else, just left the question hanging. Sensing he didn’t want to be bothered by it any longer, Athos turned and began to walk away, he wasn’t in the mood for whatever game Porthos was playing with him. “Wait! Athos, do you want to grab a drink?”

—————-

Athos sits with his back toward the wall, the tavern is full with people and soldiers, making him shift uncomfortably. There’s a glass of wine in front of him that he hasn’t touched yet, he’s to afraid of what might happen if he begins to drink, Athos knows he won’t be able to stop and the last thing he needs to to blurt something he’ll regret.

Porthos on the other hand is on his third glass, he hasn’t said anything since they sat down, his eyes however never leave him, almost like he’s expecting Athos to run away.

“I’m surprised you came,” Athos mutters, folding his arms across his chest. His body is begging for him to drink, he wants so desperately to feel the burn of wine down his throat. “You haven’t left Aramis side all winter, I’m surprised to see you without him.” Even when he was asleep Porthos was by his side, guarding him from whatever demons haunted the Spanish man.

There’s a true sadness to Porthos that makes Athos curse. He’s never had a filter and it often got him into trouble, especially when he was hurting. “I’m sorry we haven’t been around, Athos, I don’t want you to think that we don’t care for you, we do.” They had a funny of showing it. “Winter is just... difficult.” Athos knows there’s more to the story, Porthos just isn’t willing to share it with him.

“I understand.” He did. Athos was an outsider, he’d just dropped into their lives without warning or warrant. They owed him nothing, yet, no matter how much he wished it didn’t, it left a hollow feeling in his chest.

Porthos eyed him suspiciously, humming in the back of his throat. “Have a drink Athos, we’re celebrating.” He nodded toward the untouched glass between them, offering the tiniest of smirks. Athos wasn’t entirely sure what they were celebrating but he took the glass anyway and began to drink.

“What are we celebrating?”

Porthos stared at him like he’d grown any extra head before throwing his bead back to laugh. “You’re actually so daft sometimes, Athos.” He might have been offended if it wasn’t true. “We’re celebrating you becoming lieutenant. It’s about time we had someone who know what he was doing.” Dirks had known what he was doing, he was in short one of the most skilled warriors to come out of the regiment, still Porthos had known the man longer than Athos had.

Athos has ordered another drink without realizing, a tall sun kissed woman dances back to their table a total of three times before he finds his courage. “What’s going on with Aramis?” Normally he would have left it alone, but the booze has made him less self conscious and begging for some sort of relief. “And don’t say nothing, I may not know him as well as you do but I would like to think I know him enough to know when he isn’t well.”

Athos will never be able to get the imagine of Aramis staring at him with an expression of horror on his face when he’d accidentally passed out in the snow while waiting for them to return.

That was a reaction of a man who’d seen something tragic and hadn’t been able to shake it. No matter how many times Athos tried to reassure him he was fine, Aramis had clung to him the entire time while they traveled back to Paris, every so often he could feel Porthos staring at them, at first he’d thought it was out of jealous but Athos had come to realize later it was out of concern.

Th first few days back home Aramis never left his side, making sure he was healing properly and asking him if he was alright. Athos had been grateful for his friends worry but he was starting to feel overwhelmed, he of course never said anything to Aramis, to afraid once he pushed the other man away he’d never come back.

It turned out he didn’t have to say or do anything, Aramis himself pulled away from him, taking Porthos with him.

Porthos looks down at the table, sighing deeply. “I wish I could tell you, Athos.” He hardly doubts that’s true, he’s had all the opportunities to tell him what was going on and he still hasn’t. “This is Aramis story to tell and I don’t feel right breaking his privacy.” Even for you, hung between them, breaking his heart even more.

“Very well.” Rising from his seat, Athos slid his hat back onto his head, leaving the last glass of wine untouched. “Good night Porthos.” Porthos watches him go with sad eyes but doesn’t stop him, only further validating that they’ve completely moved on from him.

Regardless of how they feel about him Athos is determined to find out what’s going on. He needs to know, not for his own sanity, but for Aramis. He won’t let another Thomas happen. He can’t.

Chapter Text

That night Athos finds himself in a run down tavern; the building is falling apart and in desperate need of repair, the wine is sour and does nothing to dull the ache in his chest but he can’t seem to get himself to leave. As day turns into night he falls deeper into the bottle, hoping to forget about the heart broken expression on Porthos face.

He’s never had to worry about anyone other than himself before, it’s foreign and unfortunate. Athos knows he’ll never be able to put his all into caring about Porthos and Aramis, it’s like that part of his brain shut down, leaving no room for anything other than pity and depression.

“I’ve seen you in here every night for the last year and I don’t even know your name.” Shelia, a dark haired beauty, had a tray of drinks in her hand and was eyeing him. Once before Athos would have found her attractive, now she looks to hauntly familiar. “You do have one don’t you?”

“Athos.” He answers, bobbing his head in thanks as she set a new glass down. They’ve done this dance a few times, Shelia would stand in front of him, trying to get his attention and Athos for the most part ignored her, only acknowledging her when she brought a new drink over.

“If you need anything just call me over,” She hovers for a few seconds before deciding Athos isn’t worth her time any longer and she disappears back into the crowd of drunks. Shelia isn’t able to get him anything, not anymore, Athos doubts he’ll ever be able to be with a woman again.

The chair in front of him squeaks as a someone sits, irritating the fuck out of him. “What’s going on, Athos?” He’d expected to see Porthos, only it’s Thomas, his arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes glow with life it’s almost believable. “Normally you would have gone after the woman, have you lost your touch?”

His grip on his glass tightens, draining all the colour out of his hand. Thomas is the spitting imagine of their father, strong cheek bones, bright red hair, freckled face, and a neatly trimmed beard and goatee, save for the kindness in his eyes. “She’s not my type.” He mumbles back, shaken.

“You only have one type, Athos.”

“....”

Thomas reaches across the table, grabbing the class of wine, scowling. In their entire lives Athos has never seen his younger brother scowl, it looks like it doesn’t belong on his face. “One bad experience and you’re turned off woman for good?” He doesn’t sound disappointed or even surprised, in fact he almost seems pleased. “Although I’m sure if you look at Aramis is a certain like he’d look like a woman.”

Athos almost choked on his drink, Thomas is staring at him from across the table, his eyebrows raised. He’d never thought of Aramis like that, sure he was beautiful, in the way a man could be, but he’d never consider him feminine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re in love with him,” Thomas replies, leaning back in his chair. “Porthos too, which is surprising for you, I remember when we were children and you were obsessed with mother’s handmaiden’s son.“ Athos doesn’t remember that, he can’t recall half his experience from childhood, he’s to afraid to go down that rabbit hole. “And when we went to Paris for the summer and you met a Musketeer who, despite father’s protests, kept coming around even though he had no reason to.”

Jacques had only been a few years older than Athos, with olive skin and honey eyes. He’d come to the palace with Treville on a routine patrol and had spotted Athos practicing in one of the many deserted ballrooms. He’d never been able to explain why his heart sped up whenever the man came into the same room or why his words always seemed to escape him.

His father of course had noticed how close the two of them were becoming and had ordered Treville to keep Jacques away, Athos hasn’t heard from him since. He isn’t even sure he’s still a Musketeer. Of course some part of him thought both boys were beautiful but he’d never thought he’d been attracted to them, at least not on the surface.

Athos has only ever been in love once and it had all but destroyed him. He couldn’t be in love with Aramis and Porthos.. right?

Thomas let out a long sigh, sending a shiver through his body. “And then you met Milady and it was everything that made you, you disappeared.” Athos had been on such a high with his late wife nothing else mattered.

Drinking the last bit of his wine, Athos scoffed. “Don’t bring her into this, she has nothing to do with it.” He didn’t want to think about her, especially when he was working so damn hard to forget about her.

“She has everything to do with it, Athos, she stripped away everything from you, took all you and and then ripped your heart out, for god sake your drinking by yourself talking to your dead brother!”

“Fuck you, Thomas.”

The room spins when he stands, almost sending him tumbling to the ground, at first he thinks Thomas has reached out to grab him but the persons arms are to large to be his brothers, his chest to broad. “I think you’ve had enough, Athos.” Porthos holds him against his chest, centring him. He has no idea how the taller man he found him but he’s grateful nonetheless. “Let’s get you home.”

“Haven’t-“ Athos closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of love Porthos provides. He lets the other Musketeer lead him out of the tavern back toward the garrison, barely noticing Thomas watching him from the table, a knowing smile on his face.

Porthos is quiet the entire walk home, keeping Athos steady as they walk, his hand never leaving the crook of his back. There are so many things he wants to say to Porthos, to explain but he finds himself tongue tied and he knows if he goes to speak he’ll be sick to his stomach.

Paris is quiet for the most part, expect for the few stranglers littering the streets. Athos has always thrived at night, he felt most like himself when the sky was dark and streets where empty, he didn’t have to hide and pretend to be something he wasn’t.

“How you feeling?” Porthos pulls him to a stop, probably sensing Athos isn’t able to stand on his own two feet any longer. He helps lower him to the ground before sitting beside him, their knees touching. Athos leans his head back on the wall and closes his eyes, trying to shake the voices of his wife and brother in his ears.

“Remind me not to drink again.”

They both know Athos is unlikely to stop drinking, he’s become known for his alcoholism and bad attitude, it was no secret that he liked to drink, most just pretended it didn’t happen.

“Remind me not to let you go wondering off alone.” Porthos replies, nudging him gently in the ribs. “Whose Thomas?”

His heart nearly stops in his throat. There’s no way for Porthos to know about Thomas, he’s never even brought his name up in their conversations. He must have been standing in the bar longer than Athos thought. “No one.” He pulls himself up off the ground, to begin pacing, knowing if he stays near Porthos he’s likely to bear his entire soul to the man and he’s no where near ready to face that particular demon yet.

Porthos doesn’t move, sighing deeply. “God, you and Aramis are so much alike,” He mutters to himself, Athos barely catches what he says with how intoxicated he is.

“You could tell him you know.” Thomas is with him again, matching him step for step. Athos glares at him, half considering snapping at him to piss off again. “It’s not like he won’t find out sooner or later anyway.”

As much as he misses Thomas, he isn’t ready to share that intimate part of him just yet, Athos wouldn’t even know where to begin or how to tell the story of his brothers life with justice and not the tragedy it turned into.

His body is swaying again, this time Porthos isn’t fast enough to catch him, the wind is knocked out of him as he lands on the ground, his back screaming in pain. Porthos is on him in a second, his hands cupping his cheeks. “Jesus fuck, Athos, you’re going to give me a damn heart attack.” He doesn’t have the mental state to even think that’s funny. Athos just wants to lay on the ground and let the darkness swallow him, be done with everything already.

“I’m fine.” He mumbles, his words slurred. He needs to sleep, regroup and regain whatever dignity he’d just lost. Porthos doesn’t seem to believe him, he helps him sit up, hovering like a mother hen, his eyes wide and worried. “Just got a little a dizzy.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Before he can move, Porthos has him huddled in his arms and is moving to stand, Thomas stands beside him, watching the exchange with a faint grin. He disappears in a ring of smoke, leaving only Porthos and Athos in the dirty street, the only indication he’d ever been there was the pounding of his heart.

Athos won’t tell him, he cant afford to lose whatever respect he’s gotten from Porthos. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, Athos, but just know I’m here when your ready.”

He did know that and that was what terrified him.

For the first time in over a decade he actually felt like someone cared for him and that was such a dangerous game for Athos.

Humming gently, he turns his head into Porthos’ chest and allows the steady rhythm of his beating heart to lull him into a deep slumber.

Chapter Text

Athos wakes with a splitting migraine and the comforting sent of cinnamon and whiskey in his nose. The shutters outside the window smack against the building, bringing in a strong breeze and the fresh aroma of rain, the city is still dark, overcast from the storm and the early morning hours. Even with a hangover Athos cant seem to sleep in.

It takes him a moment to remember where he is and he has a slight panic attack when he notices Porthos curled up beside him, naked from the waist up, his arm thrown lazily behind his head. His mouth is parted, allowing his obnoxious snores to fill the small space.

Athos cant help but stare at the larger man; Porthos is all muscle, there’s isn’t an ounce of fat on him. He also notices the small scars decorating his stomach and chest, to deep to be fresh but dark enough to be noticeable. Each one looks like a painful story or bad memory and Athos feels sick just looking at them.

He detangles himself from Porthos and slowly gets off the bed. The room doesn’t spin, thankfully, and he’s able to find his footing pretty easily. Porthos must have stripped him of his uniform, probably because he’d gotten wine all over it from the night before, and put him to bed in his underclothing. It surprised him that he’d allowed Porthos to strip him, Athos had always been self conscious about his body, especially after Milady Clarick had been finished with him.

As he gets dressed, Athos notices how bare the room is, Porthos doesn’t have much of anything save for the bed he’s sleeping on and a small table in the corner of the room, littered with playing cards. It makes sense, given the other man usually spends his time in Aramis room, this is nothing more than a place to sleep, Athos doubts Porthos even does that, given how uncomfortable the bed is.

He’s just finished pulling his jacket around his shoulders when Porthos wakes up, he moves around the bed and then stretches wide, his movements almost cat like. “Morning sunshine.” There’s a smile on his lips and a laugh in his voice, telling Athos he’d made more of an ass out of himself than he thought. He crosses the room in a few strides making Athos shift uncomfortably.

“Morning,” He mumbles, pushing his hair back so he could lay his on top of his head, fully clothed Athos feels less exposed and vulnerable, it’s like having a extra layer to keep others away and unable to see the broken man underneath.

Porthos takes his hands in his own, all but stopping the trembling. “You alright?” He actually seems to care whether or not Athos is well; this isn’t an act or some ploy to get something out of him, and Athos doesn’t know what to do with this information.

He doesn’t know how to explain to Porthos about the anxious thoughts running through his head, it’s not worth the effort or the look of pity he’s sure the other man is bound to give him. “I’m fine.” Athos says instead, realizing how close and how naked Porthos is.

Clearing his throat, he tugs his hands away and steps back, feeling less trapped and confined. “I should go..” The more he lingers in the room the more he’s worried about what he might do or say. “Uh.. thank you, for last night.” Athos knows he doesn’t sound grateful, his voice is cold and uncaring, but he’s more thankful for Porthos than he could ever explain.

“You don’t have to go, yahoo.”

He does. Athos has already overstayed his welcome, besides it might look odd to an outsider to see him staying the night with Porthos, not that he minded, he’d never given much thought to what others thought of him. “I do, besides don’t you have to go and check up on Aramis?” He’s surprised that he hadn’t left in the middle of the night to do just that, Porthos had stayed with him all night.

“Mis was here a few hours hours ago, checked in, he has castle duty with Mcgriffin.” Porthos easily supplies, not missing a beat.

Embarrassment floods through him, his cheeks flushing a deep red. Aramis has seen him in bed with Porthos, close
and intimate. Athos can’t even begin to think about what Aramis had been like when he’d discovered Athos curled up beside Porthos.

Their relationship was always something magical, they way Porthos and Aramis moved together, talked, trained and loved each other was like nothing Athos had ever seen before and he can’t help but feel like he’s intruded, ripping apart their foundation.

Porthos is in front of him again, over crowding his senses with his scent. “Athos why do you look like you’re about to be sick?” He felt like he was going to be, without saying anything he turns, kneeling down in front of the bucket by the bed and he ducks his head into the freezing water.

He waits several moments, allowing the cold to clear his sense and sink into his pours before pulling his head out, gasping in a few deep breaths of air. Athos sits on the floor, leaning against the bed, one arm wrapped around his leg. He feels a bit better and a whole of a hell lot more sober but the feeling of anxiety still clings to his chest like an unwanted virus.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insane?” Porthos asks, hovering above him, he doesn’t move any closer to Athos, properly afraid he’ll be sick all over him. “What the hell were you doing?”

“Sobering up.”

His mother had been the one to teach him that particular trick, instead of a bucket however she’d use a wet clothe and would gently dab his face, whispering soothing words of love and comfort, all while trying to keep his father from discovering how hungover he truly was.

Porthos holds his hand out, he takes it and pulls himself up, barely able to look the other man in the eye. “You could have just slept some more.” He doesn’t sound disappointed but there’s something below the surface Athos can’t quite identify.

Athos rolls his shoulders in a shrug, slipping his sword belt around his wait with a sigh. Porthos seems to know what’s happening without Athos saying anything, he gets redressed, pulling his undershirt over his head and quickly button up his jacket. “Where we headed boss?”

“We aren’t headed anywhere.” He replies, leading him out of the room and down the stairs. “I have to speak to Treville about something and I’m sure you have duties to perform.”

Athos needed to know what going on with Aramis, especially now that he was lieutenant, it was eating at him, how little they both seemed to trust him. “Considering the lieutenant hasn’t given me an assignment for the day I’m currently free.” He finds himself enjoying the amusement on his tone, despite the eye roll he gives Porthos.

Before they enter the regiment, Athos looks back at Porthos. “Go and shadow Aramis, keep an eye on him. I don’t entirely trust Mcgriffin to watch his back if something goes down.” In truth he felt more comfortable when Porthos and Aramis were together, he knew they’d do anything to protect one another.

Porthos flashes him a bright smile before bringing his hand up to salute him. “Aye boss, right away.” With a deep chuckle he turns on his heels and walks away, leaving a feeling of affection with Athos.

——
“What do you mean you can’t tell me anything?” Athos is positive the captain can smell the stale wine on him, he’s standing with his back to him, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the men train below. He looks exhausted and shaken, something he hasn’t seen on Treville before.

Sighing deeply, Treville turns to look at him. He can tell by the look on his face he knows what happened the night before, his eyes narrow slightly acknowledging the worn out look on his face. “I mean exactly that. I’m forbidden to tell you anything about what happened with the Savoy case.” His tone is hollow and dark, the Captain is serious and shutting him down.

Scowling Athos glares at him. “You can’t be serious, Aramis is falling apart, he’s barely eating for god sake, and you’re refusing to tell me what happened.” He hates the look of pity on Treville’s face, despises how it makes him want to crawl back into the bottle. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Forget about it and move on, Athos.” He replies, walking to stand in front of him, up close Athos can see the worry lines on his face and how blood shot his eyes are. He grips his arm tightly, causing him to flinch at the sudden contact, and shakes his head. “Do you only want to know because you’re worried about him or because you feel left out?”

Trying to help Aramis had nothing to do with how left out he felt. Athos just wanted to make sure the Spanish man was alright.

“This isn’t like Thomas, Athos, you can’t just wave your hand and all of his problems go away, you can’t fix him.”

Saying nothing else, Treville left Athos in his office as he climbed down the stairs into the court yard. No, Aramis wasn’t Thomas, but that didn’t mean Athos was just going to stop trying to help him. It didn’t matter what it took, he wouldn’t stop until he had something, anything, that could help Aramis.

The only way to do that was to go digging, with or without Treville’s permission.

Chapter Text

One of the character defects often associated with Athos was unfriendliness. He naturally had a hard looking face and shadowy eyes, making his lack lustre attitude and harsh words the perfect deflect. If people got past his mean exterior they were turned off by his personality, he liked it that way, he’d been keeping people at arms length for so long he didn’t know anything else.

Thomas, his baby brother and the more out going of the two of them, had been the only one to break through the brick wall around Athos. When he died, steel replaced brick and he closed himself off all together, caring little for nothing or no one.

Why he cared so much about Aramis to go behind Treville’s back was beyond him. Athos had made it abundantly clear how he felt about Porthos and Aramis the first few weeks during his stay but they’d protested and kept chipping away at his outer shell, not caring how broken or damaged he was underneath.

The man Athos was meeting was supposed to know something about what happened in Savoy but as far as he could tell Aramis had been the only survivor. No one spoke of that night, it was like a curse, not thought of and kept locked away. He wasn’t certain how credible this man was or what his angle was, Athos knew he was digging himself into a larger hole but he needed to know.

The woods were quiet around him, the leafs on the trees lightly dancing with the breeze. Athos drummed his fingers slowly across the top of his sword, his eyes scanning the road. This felt sort of foolish, disappearing in the middle of the day to meet an informant that could easily kill him.

Reese, his brown stallion, huffed through his nostrils, his tail swishing back and forth as the silhouette of a man appeared at the top of the trail. Athos slowly feed the steed an apple, trying to calm both of their nerves.

In what seemed like a few short strides the man was on top of them, he wasn’t what Athos was expecting, he was shorter than Athos and built, his face was round and covered in hair, a long scar decorated his left cheek.

“I’m surprised Treville lets his boys out, given what happened.” He has a accent Athos can’t identify, crippled with how raspy his voice is it’s a wonder he’s even able to understand him. “I thought he would have kept all his pests inside.” Athos feels the sudden need to punch the man, he hates the way his tone suggests Treville is anything but loyal.

“Unless of course,” the way his lips curl up into a silky smirk makes Athos’ skin crawl. “He doesn’t know you’re here, which makes this even better.”

Athos scowled at the man. “We’re here to talk about Savoy, not about Treville.” He was many things but a traitor was not one of them, he’d go to his grave defending Treville.

“The two go hand in hand, boy.”

Athos hadn’t been able to discover much about what happened that night, every piece of information on the case had been destroyed or blacked out, the only thing not hidden away had been a single name, highlighted and underlined; Marsac

Athos didn’t want to believe that Treville had something to do with what happened, he couldn’t imagine the captain being anything else than the man he knew he was. “What do you know about, Savoy?” He muttered, his grip on his weapon tightening. He didn’t trust this man, not with the look of hunger and madness in his eyes.

“Your captain knows more than he’s letting on, why not ask him?”

“I’m not here to play games with you, Hymn, tell me what you know and you’ll get what you came for.”

Hymn shifted his weight to the opposite leg, spooking Reese. “Very well boy, but just know what I’m about to tell you will change everything and it doesn’t come without a cost.” He pulled a flat piece of parchment from his jacket, holding it between two fingers, his eyes narrowed. “Careful what you use this information for.”

Athos took the paper without hesitation, it feels heavy in his hands, almost the entire world in weighing him down. “My payment.” Hymn muttered, holding his hand out expectedly, Athos palmed him a few coins, a dozen gold and a few silver, the man overlooked the money before nodding in approval.

“Now remember, boy, don’t come crying to me when you’re in over your head. I’ve warned you and what you do with the information is on you.” Without another word the man turned on his heel and disappeared back into the trees, leaving nothing but fog and unsettling feeling in the pit of Athos’ stomach.

Athos pockets the parchment, deciding to wait until he was back in the safety of his room before reading it. Reese led him back into Paris without much complaint, every so often Athos would look over his shoulder, afraid Hymn was watching him.

Apart of him felt horrible for going behind the backs of people he cared about, but his obsession about knowing what happened was overtaking everything else, he needed to know so he could know how to help Aramis. Although he was beginning to think Treville was right, how much was this about him feeling left out and not about Aramis’ well being?

Night was starting to fall by the time Athos made it back into town, the streets glowing under the after shots of whiskey and flame. He made sure Reese was settled in his stall before disappearing into his room, Athos knew he didn’t have to worry about anyone spying on him, they wouldn’t have the nerve now that he was lieutenant.

Tossing his hat and sword on top of the desk in the corner, Athos paused, suddenly alone with his thoughts and the one thing that, in theory, would solve all his problems he felt like he was betraying Aramis’ trust. Not that he had much of it to begin with.

In his mind it was worth it. If he was going to get anywhere with Aramis and Porthos, he needed to know everything, he couldn’t be kept in the dark. You mean like you’re doing with them? A voice strongly resembling Thomas reminded him as Athos sat on his bed, the parchment laid in front of him.

By the time he was finished reading, Athos wished he’d left it alone, he had no way of knowing how one singular piece of paper was going to change his life.

Chapter Text

Athos is fuming.

He doesn’t even stop to collect his thoughts before he storms into Treville’s office, his hands shaking as he slides the paper across his desk, “You set them up to be slaughter like cattle!” He’s so angry he doesn’t even notice his northern accent snap into place. “You sent Aramis to his death, didn’t even blink a bloody eye!”

Treville only looks at him, his chin resting on top of his hands. “I told you not to go digging into the case, Athos.” He has the nerve to sound disappointed, like he was the one who’d screwed up and not the other way around.

“The fuck with the case,” He snaps back, losing all control. He wasn’t even on good terms with Aramis and he knew how fucked up this was, what it had done to him. “He’s falling apart, Treville, dying everyday because you made a decision to save your ass instead of pulling the men back when you had the chance.”

A shadow of regret flashes across the captain face and for a second Athos feels ashamed of lashing out but it’s gone as quickly as it came when Treville replies, “I didn’t have a choice, the king gave me orders and I had to follow them, I didn’t know they were going to be killed Athos, I wouldn’t have sent them there had I suspected.” He desperately wants to believe Treville but he can’t see past the flame of anger in his vision.

“Bullshit,” He laughs darkly, upset that he’d trusted Treville. “Your damn signature is on the letter, Captain, you sent those men to their deaths.” Athos has never been this angry about something before, he’d only ever felt this rage once and he’d caught his wife kneeling over his brother’s body. “Does Aramis know?” He muttered, trying to rein in the hatred. “Does he know that Marsac is alive?”

“No and it’s going to stay that way, you’re in over your head and over stepping your place Athos.”

“My place is between Aramis and whatever traumatic bullshit you’ve forced him into.”

Treville doesn’t say anything, he only glares at him, Athos has cornered him and there’s no words of wisdom that will be able to dig him out. There’s a strong knock at the door, pulling both Treville and Athos out of their glaring match. “What.” The Captain is angry and whomever is on the other side of that door is going to get the blunt end of it.

Porthos peeks his head inside, a lazy smile on his face. He doesn’t notice the tension in the room or if he does he’s choosing to ignore it. “Captain,” he steps in, bringing the cold with him. “Was wondering if I could borrow the lieutenant, promise I’ll bring him back in one piece.” Athos doubts Treville honestly cares whether he did or not.

Treville stands slowly, the palms of his hands resting on the desk. “We have nothing left to discuss, were finished.” Athos has plenty to say but knows the captain isn’t likely to continue grilling him with Porthos in the room. “Try not to drink to much, Athos.”

Athos can’t tell if he’s actually being genuine or if he’s just holding the fact that he knows him so well over his head. Snorting, Athos snatches the paper from the desk, not bothering to look the captain in the eye. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He doesn’t wait for Porthos to join him before he storms out of the office into the blizzarding snow outside.

“You know if you need a drink we can go grab one.” He doesn’t know how Porthos managed to sneak up on him, again, but he’s getting tired of the larger man just randomly appearing places.

“I don’t.” He does, desperately. However he knows once he starts drinking he won’t be able to stop and Athos wants to have a clear head, he needs to, especially if he wanted to talk to Aramis. “Why did you want to kidnap me?”

“I’d hardly call it kidnapping when you came so easily, I didn’t even have to bribe you or anything, it’s been a good day.”

Athos turns to look at Porthos, only to find him so close their chests are almost touching. The urge to reach out and touch him overwhelms him suddenly and he has to stop himself from embracing the other man. “Regardless..” he mutters, hoping the poorly lit yard hid his warming cheeks.

Porthos lets out a deep sigh, rubbing the palm of his hand across the back of his head. “I can’t get through to Aramis, usually I’m able to pull him back, get him to pull on reality but he’s not responding to anything I’m doing.” He explains, sadness coating his tone. “I was hoping maybe you could help, he’s been asking for you.” That surprised him. Aramis had been the first to push him away.

Porthos must have seen the confused look on his face because he gently laid his hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Aramis does care about you, boss, he’s just so lost in his own thoughts everything else is blurry.”

Now that he knew the full context of what Aramis was going through is was hard to be angry with him. The Spanish man was still dealing with after affects of what happened and unlike Athos he turned to mistreating his body instead of drinking. “How bad is it?” He asks, terrified of what he’s going to find.

Porthos wraps his arm around his shoulder, pulling him close as they walk down the steps into the courtyard. “He’s starting to eat again but he isn’t sleeping and when he does manage to pass out he has nightmares. Most of the time he doesn’t realize he’s safe and not in harms way, Aramis always insists that he’s freezing but I’ve covered him in extra blankets and even have a fire going.”

“Has he ever talked to anyone about how he’s feeling?”

“He’s talked to me.”

Athos looks up at Porthos, scowling a little. “Besides you, I know you two are close but sometimes it helps to have an outside source listen..” He was using the same advice Treville had thrown at him as a child much to his displeasure.

“That’s exactly why I came and found you.”

Athos wasn’t entirely sure how he could help Aramis, he couldn’t even get his own life together, he didn’t know how Porthos expected him to help. Before he realized it they were standing outside of Aramis door, the snow piling on top of them. “I don’t think he needs me, you’re the one that he loves.” He’s never said the words out loud and Porthos seems just as surprised as he is.

Giving him a tight squeeze Porthos leads him into the room, the first thing Athos notices is how warm the room is. His double layers are suffocating. “You are and he does love you.” He wants to believe Porthos, he really does, but being loved by someone is something Athos knows he’ll never deserve.

Aramis is curled up on the bed, surrounding by three blankets and Porthos’ jacket. Athos pauses at the door, uncertainty clinging to his body. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say, apart of him wants to tell Aramis he knows everything, to expose all of Treville’s involvement and that Marsac was still alive, however seeing how broken the man was, he decides to leave it, at least for now.

Kicking off his boots, Athos slowly walks over to the bed, he gentle with his movements, not wanting to frighten Aramis. “Hey, Mis.” He mumbles, hoping the intimate nickname will get some sort of rise out of Aramis. It seems to do the trick, Aramis peels the blankets back and blinks up at him, probably expecting Porthos to be standing in his place. “Athos...” His voice is so hoarse and raspy, he sounds so vulnerable and scared. “You came..”

Locking away whatever feel of abandonment he’d been feeling away, Athos sat down on the bed next to him and smiled a little. “Always, Aramis.”

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for Aramis to slip back into a deep slumber, his soft whine like snores filling the space. Athos doesn’t dare to move from where he’s seated, afraid to jolt the Spanish man awake. His fingers find the other man’s hair line, slowly he traces his hand down the back of his head, soothing away any tension left in his shoulders and neck. “How long has he been like this?”

Athos doesn’t look away from Aramis’ peaceful face, he knows that Porthos hears him from his position by the door. He hasn’t moved since they came into the room, keeping whatever invisible demons Aramis thought was coming for them away.

“Since this evening, he was alright while we were on duty with McGriffin but it was like all the events of the day came crashing down on him the second we came home.” Porthos himself sounds exhausted, his words stumbling over each other a few times, hardly enough for Athos to comment on it. “He hasn’t gotten out of bed all day.”

“He’s mentally exhausted.”

Athos has had his own share of days spent in bed, alcohol dressing his breathe and body. He knows how exhausting it can be to fight an enemy only you can see.

Athos finally tears his gaze away from Aramis to look at Porthos, the other man is staring at him with wide calculating eyes, it’s like he knows Athos is hiding something and he’s just waiting for him to spill his secrets. “You can sleep you know.” He mutters, hating how depressed that stare makes him feel. “I can watch over you.”

Porthos makes a noise in the back of his throat, it almost sounds like a laugh. “I won’t be able to sleep, Aramis thrashes in his nightmares.” There’s a sadness to his words that makes Athos want to punch Treville. He’s caused this. Aramis falling apart was his fault.

Athos can’t imagine a man who sees the world the way Aramis does plagued with nightmares. He doesn’t deserve it. “There has to be something we can do.” He whispers, mostly to himself, he’s not even sure Porthos is paying attention anymore.

During his darker moments, despite voicing otherwise, Athos had craved the companionship of the people he loved. He knows Aramis needs human connection, he’s like a magnet, thriving on the human bond. The only way he was going to get better was to have people around him that honestly cared about him.

“I’ve tried everything,” Porthos answers, he’s moved from his position by the door and is standing near the bed, Athos’ jacket is his hand, there’s a look of hurt and confusion clearly written on his face. “How did you get this?”

Athos feels himself freeze, his hand pausing on Aramis’ shoulder, his eyes narrow in Porthos direction. “Do you trust me so little you felt the need to go through my jacket?” He can’t stand the way his voice sounds numb and shallow, giving off the impression that he doesn’t care.

“I knew you were hiding something!”
Porthos snaps back, a bark to his voice. “You disappeared for the entire day and Treville had no damn idea where you’d run off to. I told you Aramis would tell you when he was ready, Athos, you had no right to go digging into shit you had no business in.”

“I had every right! I’m your lieutenant, it’s my responsibility to know what the hell is going on and Aramis falling apart of a cause for concern.”

Porthos stares at him, the paper crumbling in his hand. “Is that all we are to you? Your soldiers?”

Were they? Athos hasn’t made any progress with either of them, whatever advances he’d tried has been ignored and the two of them shut him out. He knows there’s a part of him that cares deeply for both men but he’s terrified to let them in, afraid of the consequences.

“Of course not..” He finds himself muttering, he’s tired of fighting with himself, he just wants to be wanted by Porthos and Aramis. In every sense of the word. “I never meant to break your or Aramis’s trust but I needed to know what was happening, he was never going to tell me Porthos, we’ve barely spoken since we’ve gotten back from Spain.”

“You don’t know that-“

“How long did it take for him to tell you?”

Porthos lets out a defeated sigh, the bed sinks as he sits down beside him, his larger hand finds Athos’. “He technically never did, I never left his side when he came back, Aramis told me a few details but I don’t know everything.”

Athos didn’t even know everything that had happened, so many details of that day had been locked away, making it impossible even for him to uncover. All he really had was Treville’s involvement and the fact that Marsac was alive and deemed a traitor, something he knew Porthos didn’t know.

“I have control issues.” He mumbles, breaking the awkward silence. “I need to know what’s going on, I can’t have things out of control, especially when it involves the two of you.” Athos doesn’t know why he’s explaining himself to Porthos, he’s never felt the need to defend himself to people before, most just took him as was or moved on. He normally didn’t care but it was different with Porthos, he cares about his opinion of him.

Porthos smiles gently at him, laughing. “I’ve noticed.” His hand finds his face and Athos leans into the touch. “You don’t have to go behind our backs to get to know us though, boss, we both want you to know everything. Some things are just harder to talk about then others.”

Athos knew all to well. He has yet to explain who Thomas was or why he’d come to join the musketeers.

His eyes find Porthos’, his cheeks flushing; there’s a genuine happiness to him that Athos finds addicting. It seemed no matter how difficult things were Porthos always found the bright side to things. It’s something Athos has always struggled with, the majority of the time he’d rather allow the darkness to consume him then go toward the light. Porthos is making him rethink everything.

Athos wants to live.

Before he realizes what he’s doing Athos is crawling into the other man’s lap, his arms wrapped firmly around his middle. He feels safe with Porthos, more safe than he’d ever felt in his entire life.

It’s this level of security and comfort that prompts Athos to push up against Porthos, their hips touching, and kiss him gently on the mouth. He isn’t sure at first if he’d read the signs wrong or if he’d over stretched, but Porthos leans down toward him and returns the kiss, sending Athos’ world into a sea of colour and love.

Chapter Text

For the first time in his life, Athos doesn’t feel like dying.

The warmth of Porthos draws him in closer, their chest touching, he feels a sort of peace in himself like nothing he’s experienced before. His depression doesn’t eat away at him, it’s still there but it’s more of a quiet melody than the raging storm he’s had to deal with since childhood.

Porthos shifts his weight so he’s cuddled in the middle of his lap, his legs on either side of him, his lips have yet to leave his, he’s kissing him slowly, savouring the moment. To his surprise Porthos taste like paprika and chocolate, something Athos never thought could ever go together.

He has to pull away to catch his breath, Porthos touches the patch of his exposed skin on his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, drawing a noise from Athos. He’s in no way experienced when it comes to the art that is love but with Porthos it feels natural, he doesn’t have to pretend.

Reality is starting to sink in when a flash of lavender and honeysuckle overcrowds his senses. His heart leaps into a quick rattle of beats, causing his lungs to work in over time. Athos is out of Porthos lap and across the room in a second, his hands trembling. Anne.

His stomach rolls tightly, his gaze falling on the sleeping form of Aramis on the bed. He hadn’t even stopped to think about the Spanish man before he’d crawled into Porthos lap. What would have happened if Aramis would have woken up and seen Athos kissing Porthos.

“I-I” His words are venomous, constricting his vocal chords and making it impossible to breath. He hadn’t thought about Milady in months, he was starting to push her presence back into the dark place in his heart; the memory of her came back with vengeance, tossing their memories together back into his mind’s eyes, squeezing whatever thoughts he’d had about Porthos out of his subconscious.

“Athos,” Porthos raises from the bed, careful not to bother Aramis, his hands are raised in surrender, there’s a kindness on his face Athos knows he doesn’t deserve. “What’s wrong?” His steps are light and gentle, he isn’t cornering him on purpose, but the closer Porthos gets the more the panic sets in.

“I-I need to go..” He spits out, hardly recognizing the tone of his voice. He sounds like a frightened child. Athos needs fresh air before he does or says something he’ll regret.

Porthos stops half way, sensing how freaked out he’s become. He smiles slightly and reaches his hand out toward him, giving Athos the option to reach out and take it. “Alright we’ll go, just please don’t run Athos.” He’s only known him for little over a year and Porthos knows Athos flees when the fear takes over. He doesn’t know whether to feel relived or annoyed.

Athos wraps his arms around himself, knowing Porthos can see the scowl on his face and the disapproval in his eyes. He’s shutting down and he doesn’t know how to pull himself out of it.

A moan comes from the bed, pulling both their attention to Aramis. The Spanish man stretches out like a cat, his long limbs touching the end of the bed. “What’s going on?” Aramis face is scruffy and red, he’s in need of a bath and a shave, something he’s sure Porthos had reminded him of countlessly.

“Nothing, Mis, everything’s fine.” Porthos answers without missing a beat. With his attention on Aramis and not him, Athos feels himself begin to relax. He hates that even in death Anne has control over him. “Athos and I were just about to leave and get some supper, would you like some?”

“I could eat.” Aramis says, swinging his legs over the bed so he’s sitting up, Athos can feel his eyes on him, staring deep into his soul. “If that’s what you want, amour.”

He can’t find the courage to answer him, instead he nods and reaches for his jacket from where he’d tossed it hours earlier, the extra weight brings a sliver of security back and Athos is beginning to feel like he doesn’t have to sink to his knees and cry.

Porthos holds his hat out, waiting on baited breath until Athos took it and placed it back onto his curls. “We’ll be back as quick as we can, Mis.” Before he goes toward the door, he leans down to press his lips to Aramis’ forehead. “Love you.”

“Love you too, you big lug.”

Feeling like he’s intruding, Athos slips outside. The cold hits him immediately, causing him to sink deeper into his jacket, his hands scrunching up in the souls of the pockets.

A fresh snow has fallen, leaving the regiment in a coat of sparkling white, all Athos can think of is Aramis laying in a pool of his own blood, turning the once beautiful sight into a horror show.

Porthos pulls the door shut behind him, sighing deep in his chest, “I haven’t seen him get up like that in weeks, you’ve really helped him, Ath.” His skin crawls at the how intimate the shortening of his name sounds. Athos doubts he’s helped Aramis, all he did was lay on the bed beside him while he slept, something he knows Porthos has been doing for months.

He doesn’t answer him as he climbs down the stairs into the winter wonderland below, trying ignore the flashes of wounded soldiers bleeding to death in his mind’s eye. Porthos matches him step for step, determined to not let slip away quietly into the night.

Even if he could shake the other man Athos isn’t sure he wants to, he’s staring to need being around Porthos like he needs air. “I’m sorry,” He breaks the silence when they leave the Garrison, pulling Athos to a stop. “If I frightened you or went to fast.” He explains, seeing the confused look on his face.

Athos doesn’t get it, he’d been the one to kiss Porthos and been the one to pull away. Why is he sorry? “You didn’t.” He muttered, the air between them is cold, making Athos want to curl up against his chest again. “I apologize for kissing you.” He said, “I shouldn’t have been so forward.”

Porthos frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, “Do you regret kissing me?” He snorts, like this is some sort of joke and Athos feels his heart clench. “Because I as hell don’t regret kissing you, I moved to quickly and freaked you out, you shouldn’t feel the need to apologize for wanting something Athos.”

He did have to, Athos has made so many mistakes in his life he doesn’t deserve to be happy. “You didn’t freak me out.” He whispers, choosing to ignore the quip of wanting something. Porthos moves suddenly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close as they continue down the path to the Hidden Pony.

“Oh right because looking like you’ve been shot is just a natural expression on your face.”

“Fuck off.”

Porthos’ loud boisterous chuckle follows them all the way to the tavern, temporarily making Athos forget the fear starting to sink into his chest and for a second he felt like he could breath.

Had he known the shit storm about to hit when they’d gone to be Hidden Pony he would have begged Porthos to turn around but fate was a cruel mistress and throwing him into the void was the universes way of reminding him how unlucky he truly was.

Chapter Text

“You boys are causing quite the ruckus.”

Athos bobs his leg in rhythm with his heart, anxiety coursing through his body. He has a love hate relationship ship with the Hidden Pony. The small tavern is one of the best places to get a crips glass of wine and some of the best bread the town has to offer but it’s also a known hangout for the Cardinal’s men.

“Don’t we always?” Porthos asks, a smirk on his lips. He’d insisted they sit down and have a drink when they’d come in, Athos had just been happy to grab supper and be on his way. “We’re not exactly the most friendliest people,” Bullshit. Porthos was one of the most charismatic people he knew, he almost always a grin on his face.

Ruth, the bar keep, shoots Porthos a stern look. Her hair is made of fire, outlining her heart shaped face and striking green eyes, she has an accent so thick Athos can only understand every second word. “You best not be starting nothin, Porthos, or you’ll be banned for life.” They both knew she wasn’t serious, most of their business came from the Musketeers.

Porthos wasn’t known for starting fights, rather finishing them. Why anyone wanted to go toe to toe with him was beyond Athos. On regular days he was a skilled warrior, slashing through enemies and defending his brothers, when threatened he was absolute beast.

Porthos finishes the last of his wine, rolling his shoulders in a shrug. “I just finish them, sweetheart.” To anyone else it would have looked like Porthos was flirting with Ruth, but there’s no passion in his words. “Besides if the Red Guard minds their own damn business we won’t have any issues.”

Savourez and his men had turned and watched them the entire time until they’d sat down, cackling and whispering among themselves when they thought they weren’t paying attention. Athos is surprised Porthos hasn’t gone over there by now, his restraint is impeccable.

Pouring them both another class, adding something a bit stronger for Athos, Ruth rolls her eyes. “I don’t care, I won’t have my bar turned upside down by a bunch of animals.” The tavern didn’t actually belong to Ruth, it was her late husband’s, who, if the stories were to be believed, had gotten so drunk one night he stumbled down a well.

“We’re just here to get Aramis something to eat.” Athos cuts in before Porthos can make a fool out of himself. “We won’t be starting anything.” Especially something they couldn’t finish, an all right brawl would probably end up with one of more of the Red Guards injured.

“How is Aramis, anyway? Haven’t seen around for awhile, the lad alright?”

”He’s okay, just getting better, this years cold really knocked him out.”

Aramis being sick was the furthest thing from the truth, he was he type of man who always looked out for his health and riding the other members of the regiments of proper hygiene. Explaining how he was hiding from shadowy imagines and only voices he could hear wasn’t easy, Athos understood why Porthos choose not to disclose the truth.

Ruth disappears into behind the bar, a few moments later she comes out carrying a large bowl, she sets it front of Porthos with a stern nod. “Make sure he eats all of it, it’ll make him feel better, even grow hair on his chest.” Athos highly doubted Aramis needed hair on his chest, he’d seen how hairy the Spanish man was, the last thing he needed was more hair on his chest.

“Will do.” Porthos handed her a few cold coins, to which she refused, muttering under her breathe about regular customers and revenue.

They’re just about to leave when Savourez walks past them, bumping his elbow into Porthos, spilling the contents of the bowl all over him. “Well look at that, Porthos is in his natural habitat, should I get the bar keep to clean it or your master?”

Athos sees red and for a second he considers retaking back his vow to Ruth but Porthos beats him to it. He brings his fist back and punches the red guard square in the face, Savourez falls to the ground, groaning loudly. “What the fuck!” Everyone around them is frozen, to shocked to move.

Athos is the first to react, his sword draw and stationed between the rest of the guards and Porthos. “Don’t,” His eyes narrow, his hand twitching into a tighter grip. “Just don’t.”

Savourez raises slowly, holding his nose to stop the bleeding. “You damn Musketeers think your better the rest of us, you think your untouchable,” He laughs wickedly, stepping up close to Athos, his breath in his face. “Will see how brave you are when your being charged with treason and hung by a noose.”

Athos stares at the guard, his mind racing.
There was no way for Savourez to know about his exchange with his informant. Not unless he was working for the Cardinal and this was just one large set up.

Porthos steps up beside Athos, his shadow overcrowding the rest of the Guards, who shy away and take a few steps back. “That’s big talk for a small man, why don’t you put your skill where your mouth is, Savourez.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot.”

“Yes.”

Savourez lunges for Porthos but Athos has the tip of his sword up and pointed toward his neck. “You are behaving rather idiotically.” He mutters. He’s not ready to admit how much he’s itching to kick Savourez ass.

Out of nowhere Ruth appears between the group, Athos could have sworn there was smoke coming out of her ears. “What the bloody hell did I say!?” Her voice is high and twisted with anger, mostly toward the Red Guards, she has voiced many times how she thought they were all idiots with to much privilege. “Get the hell out of the bar if you’re going to kill each other.”

She produced another bowl of soup and a clean towel for Porthos, her attention shifting to Savourez. “I swear on the god of you spill any of my food again I’ll gut you and use your inners for stock, understand me?”

Savourez rolled his eyes, rounding his men up with a simple wave of his hand. “Let’s take this outside, unless the King’s dogs are scared.” Without waiting for a response he turns and walks out of the tavern with the rest of the guards, leaving Athos and Porthos behind.

“You aren’t really thinking of fighting them are you?”

Porthos dries himself off, snorting loudly. “Wouldn’t be much of a fight, Savourez’s all talk, he only got a promotion because he was apart of the rescue team that saved the Queen.” He was also a huge suck up and willing to betray anyone to get what he wanted, even his own men.

Athos slides his sword back in place and takes the bowl from Ruth with a smile and a quiet thank you, letting Porthos rant. As much a he wanted to watch Porthos put Savourez in his place, the thing he wanted was to explain to Treville why he’d allowed him to fight with the Red Guards.

“Porthos would win hands down and then we’d have to worry about an inquiry and the last thing Aramis needs is both of us to contained for hours.” He adds in when Porthos was finished. “It’s better to just let Savourez think he’s won and get back-“

A loud crash came from the courtyard, followed by the cries of few civilians, Athos ran outside, leaving the dinner on the table by the door, outside a fire is raging in the middle of the yard, the cardinals men waiting around it. “It’s time to prove yourselves Musketeers!”

Well fuck.

Chapter Text

A hush falls over the court yard, drawing civilians out from hiding. The fire raging around behind them, only seeming to grow stronger. Savourez and his men stand with their weapons drawn, waiting on baited breath for Porthos and Athos to take their bait.

Porthos stands beside him, his head held high and his posture proud. It takes a lot to bother him and the words from the Red Guards haven’t affected him, he’s only considering the offer because of Athos. Porthos would go to the ends of the earth to protect not only him but Aramis as well.

“We don’t have to fight them, Porthos.” He mutters, knowing his words are going to deaf ears. Porthos has never been known to back out of a fight, especially when the people he cared about were involved.

“Like I said it won’t be much of a fight.” He answers, turning to give him a smirk. Athos stops breathing for a moment, his lungs collapsing in on themselves, there’s something almost magical about the grin on his face. “This will be over before it even begins.” He doesn’t doubt that, he’s only worried about the aftermath and the consequences that are sure to follow.

More so he’s concerned about what Aramis must be thinking happened to them. They were only suppose to go and get something to eat and come back. Apparently they couldn’t even do that without getting into some type of trouble.

Aramis was definitely going to kill them.

“Just be careful,” He sighs, tightening his grip on his sword, his other free to reach behind and grab the dagger hidden under his jacket. “The last thing I need is to carry your ass back to Aramis because you’re being reckless.”

Porthos laughs wholeheartedly, blocking an attack from a Red Guard. “If anything I would be the one carry your ass back to Aramis, are you forgetting who won our last battle.” He kicks his leg out, sending his opponent stumbling to the ground, his fist raised to block another.

Athos parried, stepping back and around Porthos to block Savourez’s sword, a scowl on his face. “You only won because you caught me off guard.” Porthos hasn’t let it go that he’d beaten him during their first encounter and they haven’t seen enough of each other to have a rematch.

“Say whatever helps you sleep at night, Ath.”

They should not be enjoying this as much as they are. There’s something surreal about battling with Porthos, they move in perfect unison, their bodies seem to know where to go before they do, creating the perfect lethal combination. Where one ends the other begins, Athos has never been so perfectly matched before. He can’t help but wonder what might happen if and when Aramis is able to join them.

This only last a few minutes, Savourez and his men have them separated, he pushes a few of his men out of the way as he charges toward Athos, a look of murder on his face. He manages to block the attack the captain hit him with, their swords clashing and creating a spark.

“Treville isn’t here to protect you, boy.” He tries and fails to knock Athos’ sword away, growling furiously. There’s something in Savourez tone that causes Athos to pause, his defences on high alert. “He won’t be able to save you when the king finds out about your treason.” He’d been right in thinking the meeting had been a set up, The Cardinal was trying to get rid of him.

“I don’t need Treville to protect me.” Striking at Savourez, Athos brought his sword down, slashing against the leathers on the man’s chest. The armour bounced him back a slight step, causing Athos to loose his momentum.

He doesn’t feel the dagger in his side until Savourez is twisting the blade up inside of him. Athos falls to his knees, gasping for breathe, his hands trying to grab the weapon. “Maybe you should have stuck to playing a lord, you would have lived longer.” Savourez pushes him back down into the sand, raising his sword to deliver the finishing blow.

Only the weapon is grabbed from Porthos, how he’s able to take the sword without cutting his hand open is a mystery and one Athos knows that will haunt him if he survives. Porthos head butts the captain, growling darkly. “I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born.”

“Porthos..” Athos spits out, with one quick pull he takes the dagger out, clasping his hand on the wound. “Don’t..” He’s seen that look on Porthos before, it’s he same expression he wears when they’re in battle and he’s about to take a life.

“That’s right,” Savourez mutters, spitting a chunk of blood out. “Run to your master you-“Porthos punches him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

The blood loss is starting to get to him and Athos honestly isn’t positive it’s Porthos who picks him up. “You’re going to be alright, Athos..” He mutters, not sounding sure himself.

“You’re a terrible liar..” He mumbles, laying his head on his chest, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to close his eyes, Athos gives in to steady rhythm of Porthos’ heart and allows it lull him into nothingness.

Chapter Text

The winter breezes blows through the house, echoing through the cracks and crevices, Athos can hear the whistles of the wind in the empty hallways. His boots crunch against the snow as he walks through the manner, announcing his presence to who or whatever was in the next room over.

His hand rest on the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it loose. Athos ends up in an old ball room, the wooden doors concealing the room from the outside have been ripped open and are barely hanging on. The floorboards are soaked and aging, stained with water and blood.

Three people are in the middle of the room, one a beautiful woman with a ringlet of curls and a charming smile, the other two are male, one large and bulky, the other slim and stalky. From where he’s standing Athos can’t make out what they’re saying, the woman’s movements are animated and angry, the other two take it in stride, never raising their voiced or moving against her.

Upon closer look Athos realizes that it’s Aramis, Porthos and Anne, they don’t understand the danger they’ve put themselves in, how lethal and cunning the woman in front of them really is. He needs to get between them. “Athos honey,” A tremble runs down his spine, once before the pet name use to thrill him, now it makes him want to be sick. “I’m so pleased you could join us.”

“Anne,” He mutters in return, his hand itching to reach out and take Aramis and Porthos to safety. She cocks her head to the side, easily picking up on his nervousness. “Can’t say I feel the same way.” He hates the look of seduction on her face and how despite everything she’s done, he can’t escape the need to bow at her feet.

Aramis looks over at him, his arms crossed over his chest, there’s a scowl on his face and anger in his eyes. “You know her, Athos?” He sounds put off, almost offended that he had to ask. This is what he got when he choose not to tell Aramis and Porthos about his past. “She’s been saying some aweful shit about you, that quite frankly couldn’t be true.”

If only they knew who he’d been before they met him. Athos had been a different man before, more closed off and aloof from everyone expect those in his inner circle. “I knew her, yes.” He replies, keeping his eyes on Milady as he walked to stand between Porthos and Aramis. “But it was a long time ago.” A life time ago.

“Why don’t you tell them how well you knew me, Athos?” She circles them like a predator stalking it’s prey. “I’m sure they’d love to know.” She was completely playing them and Porthos and Aramis were falling for her trap.

“It’s in the past, it’s done with.”

“Is it?”

Anne stops in front of her, paying no attention to Aramis or Porthos as she slides her finger down his cheek and across his lips. “You’ll always be mine, Athos.” She whispers, planting a kiss where she traced, a laugh escaping her lips. “No matter where you go or who you love, you’ll always belong to me.”

Athos hasn’t realized that Porthos moved until the larger man had to his arms around him, pulling him back and away from Anne, Aramis steps in front of him, shielding him from his wife. “Athos doesn’t belong to anyone.” He growls in return, causing Athos’ chest to warm.

Porthos leans in close, placing a kiss behind his ear. “Don’t worry, Ath, we won’t let her hurt you.” He leaves him with a shiver running through his body and love radiating over his face.

He wasn’t worried about Anne hurting him, he was concerned about what she might to them once she discovered how much they meant to him.

Anne reaches into her skirts, pulling out a long pistol, she dusts it off, a smirk slipping onto her face. “That’s cute, Athos, you’ve got body guards who will die for you.” Her words don’t click in until the gun is pointed at Aramis and he’s to late to stop the bullet from going through his skull.

“Aramis!”

The second bullet goes off and hits Porthos, sending him down beside Aramis and Athos can’t help but fall to his knees beside them, to shocked to cry or move. “It really is a shame,” Anne presses the end of the gun against his head, scowling down at him. “We could have done great things together, but you had to choose your family over me. Maybe next time you’ll choose love, Athos.” She doesn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger.

Athos jolts awake, his heart racing. He can’t focus on anything other than the pain soaring through his chest, he doesn’t even come to terms with the tears streaming down his face until Aramis is kneeling in front of him, his hands on his face. “Athos,” He whispers softly, his thumbs wiping his face. “You’re going to rip your stitches open, you need to calm down, amour.”

He’s hyperventilating, barely able to get any air into his lungs, Aramis is slowly running his hands down the middle of his back, trying to calm him down. “It was just a nightmare, Athos, you’re okay.” Athos is having a difficult time believing him, he should be dead, a thousand times over, yet he was still here, struggling to breathe but still alive.

“You’re alive..” He mumbles after several painful minutes, the throbbing in his lower abdomen is still present but Athos’ mind is focusing on the skillful hands of Aramis.

His fingers trace along his spine and over the back of his neck until his breathing evens out. His dream had felt so real, apart of him still believes he’s trapped in a dream like state, just waiting for Anne to return and kill Aramis again.

Aramis lifts his chin, forcing Athos to look at him. “I should be saying that to you,” He’s shaved recently and has life back in his eyes, Athos hasn’t seen him this energetic in months. “You’re damn lucky you didn’t bleed out in Porthos’ arms, did anyone ever tell you not to pull an object out of yourself unless you have a healer near by?”

“Where is Porthos?”

His body shifts slightly, directing Athos’ attention to the large figure on a chair. “He’s asleep, I told him to rest while you were healing, he wouldn’t leave your side until he knew you’d be alright, you scared the hell out of us, Athos.”

He can only imagine what happened when Porthos came into the room with him unconscious and hardly breathing. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles. Athos isn’t use to having people care for him, he’s been alone for so long he’s forgotten what it’s life to have people care about what happens to him. “In my defence Savourez cheated, otherwise I would have had him.”

“When have you know a Red Guard to fight fairly?”

Athos scowls in return at him, he’s missed Aramis, more than he’s willing to admit and it’s nice to see him up and moving around, even if it was at his expense. “How are you feeling?” Aramis asks after witnessing him struggle to sit up and cursing at the pain soaring through his body.

Laying his head head back, Athos sighs deeply. “I’ve been stabbed one to many times since joining up with the pair of you.” He replies, entirely joking. He’d take whatever wound if it meant keeping Porthos and Aramis safe.

“That’s not funny, amour.” Aramis change of tone causes Athos to pause and look over at him. He feels guilty for the expression of pain and sadness on his face and suddenly wishes he had better use of a filter. “I didn’t think you were going to make it..” His hand tightens on Athos’, almost like he was using it as a life line. “You’d lost so much blood and I couldn’t stop the bleeding and you weren’t breathing-“

Athos moves so quickly he pulls on a few of stitches, he’s positives he’s opened them but the only thing that matters is stopping Aramis from disappearing back into his shell. “Mis,” He touches his forward against his, his rough hands creasing his cheeks. “You saved me, I’m only alive because of you.” In truth Athos believed his desire to be with Aramis and Porthos had been the only thing to pull him out.

His nightmares use to be about Anne killing Thomas and Athos discovering her standing over his body, covered in his blood, now it was her killing Porthos and Aramis. It almost seems worse, given how he has the chance to push them away and prevent them from getting further involved with him, knowing full well the heartache that’s bound to happen because of him.

“You saved me.”

In more than one way. Athos had been a soulless being drifting through the earth without a purpose or the will to live, now that he had Porthos and Aramis he didn’t feel the immediate need to welcome death with welcoming arms.

Aramis smiles a little, placing his hands on top of his. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately, Athos, I haven’t been fair to you, disappearing without an explanation.” He didn’t need one. Aramis was entitled to want privacy giving everything he’d been through.

Athos shakes his head, running his thumb across his cheek bones. “You don’t need to give me an explanation, Aramis, it’s alright.” He didn’t want to cause him to fall back into his depression, especially when it seemed like he was crawling out of it.

“I want to, I want to have a relationship with you Athos, you need to know everything.” He sighs deeply. “A few years ago a few men and I had been stationed outside of Savoy. It was suppose to be a routine mission, get what we came for and then return to Paris,” Aramis looses himself in the memories, his voice becoming distant. “We don’t know how it happened but a group of soldiers attacked us while we were asleep, ambushed and killed majority of the men in their sleep.

I remember waking up from the men screaming around me, begging for their lives and listening to their pained howls as they were slain. We didn’t stand a chance, Athos, we weren’t prepared for their attack and they slaughter all of us, I don’t even know how I escape with just a flesh wound.”

Athos does. It was suspected that Marsac had informed the group of soldiers before fleeing, he’d only gone back to pull Aramis to safety because of their close relationship. There was no proof of what had happened but Marsac deserting his brothers and leaving them for death had only made him appear more guilty.

“Is that why winter’s hard?”

Aramis nods, looking down at their entwined hands. “All I can think about is freezing to death while my brothers died around me, I hadn’t been able to save them Athos, I’m alive and every single of them is dead.” There was nothing Aramis could have done, he’d only come out alive because of his past with Marsac.

“Nothing could have been done for you to save them, Aramis.” Athos has seen the report, the attack had come out of nowhere, Aramis is lucky to be sitting here with him. “Those men may have died but they live on through you, Aramis, you honour their memory everyday by thrieving and being the best Musketeer you could possible be.”

Aramis smiles sadly at him, releasing his hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I pulled away from you because I was afraid to get close and I couldn’t watch you die, Athos.” Which explained why he’d pulled away after what happened in Spain.

“It’s alright.” He whispers in return, taking his hand back in his own, needing to feel as close to the other man as possible. “I haven’t been the friendliest of person toward you and Porthos, especially in the beginning.” Athos has his own demons he isn’t willing to tackle just yet.

“You were quite prickly.”

“You love it.”

Aramis throws his head and laughs, the sound warms Athos’ heart and makes his cheeks flush. Seeing the life back in Aramis’ is enough to for Athos to decide getting stabbed was worth it. “I wouldn’t want you any other way, amour.”

Chapter Text

“It’s about damn time,” Porthos grumbles a few seconds later. “I thought you two were never going to make up and I’d spend the rest of my days miserable.”

Athos slowly drops his hand from Aramis’ face, turning to scowl at the larger man. “You’d hardly be miserable.” He still can’t understand the love Porthos has for him, it’s unsettlingly.

Yet there’s a feeling in his chest he cant describe, it’s a fire burning in his veins, heating him from the core.

“You’re right,” A wide grin slips over his lips, making him look younger and more handsome. “I’d make you two miserable and then force you to make up.” Porthos moves to Aramis’ side, his arm loops around the smaller man’s waist, tucking him close.

Athos has to push the feeling of jealousy down into the pit of his stomach. They haven’t spoken about their kiss since it happened, he’s been to afraid to voice how he’s feeling, especially when it’s clear how deeply Porthos and Aramis care for one another.

As badly as it makes him feel to see them so open about their love, Athos isn’t about to take that away from them. He can’t think of what to say in response because, regardless of how he’d made Aramis feel, Athos would have stayed away if it had been the right thing, he would have kept himself locked away behind a wall of ice and angry scowls.

He’s almost off the bed when Aramis takes ahold of his arm, his large brown eyes staring at him. “Don’t leave, Athos.” He says, catching on to his flight or fight response faster than Athos can comprehend. “I need to have you - both of you, tonight with me, I don’t want to have to think about going to sleep with either of you out of arms length.”

He can’t possibly mean what Athos thinks, expect he’s never known Aramis to be anything more than serious when it came to the two of them, especially where they’re well being was concerned.

Aramis’ grip on his arm is so tight he can feel this skin already starting to bruise. “Alright..” he mumbles. “But I refuse to sleep next to Porthos, he snores louder than a damned bear.”

Normally he would have brushed the request off and carried his sorry ass back to his rooms to drink himself into oblivion, but tonight he can’t shake the feeling of dread clinging to his bones. He needs to be in their presence as much as they needs his.

Porthos laughs echoes off the walls, vibrating into his soul. “I didn’t hear you complaining about my snores the other night.” He flashes Athos a sly smirk from over Aramis’ head. “I’m fact in quite sure you’re the one who snuggled up closer-“

Athos deep growl sends Porthos hiding in Aramis hair, still grinning triumphantly. “That’s hardly fair..” he could hardly remember anything from that night, moreso how much of a fool he’d made out of himself.

“It’s plenty fair, next time don’t drink more than you can handle.” The words come out of Porthos mouth before either of them are ready, a tense silence hangs between them, threatening to make Athos come undone.

His addiction to wine wasn’t something talked about, even Treville, whom he’d known since childhood, avoids discussing it with him. His mother had taught him at a young age to hide his faults, for fear of ruining the families reputation, his father’s fists has only enforced it.

Besides it wasn’t like Athos was a drunk, he could handle himself, his hands never shook when he wielded a sword and he always showed up to perform his duties. It was on those nights with the darkness become to much and his thoughts swirled into dangerous territory that Athos drowned himself. Which was happening more often than he’s willing to admit, especially since he just got Aramis’ favour back.

Aramis, beautiful observant Aramis, notices the way his shoulders hang with tension and gently pulls him to his lap, his arms wrapping securely around his waist.
His lips find the sensitive spot behind his ear, “Lets not talk about that right now,” His voice intertwine with his soul, pushing the echoes of dark whispers into the endless void. “Our love is endless and enteral, amour.”

Athos knew Aramis meant it came without judgment or conditions, they loved him without fault, bad habits and all. He wasn’t able to wrap his head around it, not when he’d spent a lifetime trying to impress people, ever changing his entire being to please those he declared important. For the wrong reasons.

Aramis and Porthos were important like the need for air was essential. One couldn’t live without the other, his boys, whom struck through the black ice, made Athos want to live, to experience everything life had to offer, even if it just meant standing on the sidelines observing.

Athos would do that, for them. So they could be happy and content, despite how badly his body and soul ached to be apart of their love affair, however brief.

“You love me?”

Unexpectedly it’s Porthos who answers, his words breathing life into him. “Of course we do, you didn’t think we were going to let you go that easily did you?” He had actually, Athos had expected nothing of them beyond their service to the Musketeers, he never thought he’d be here, he never believed his heart would beat again for anyone other than his estranged wife.

Athos twists in the smaller man’s lap so he’s looking up at the two of them. He’s never noticed the hint if green in Aramis eyes or how his eyes crinkle when he smiles. His heart hammers in his chest, his cheeks flushing under their gaze. “I can’t-“

Aramis’ hands are on his face, his thumbs tracing along his cheekbones. “We know, Athos and it’s okay, we aren’t pushing you.” Athos melts under his touch, his body craving, begging for the man to keep touching him. “We don’t expect anything of you, just let us love you.”

He can’t, not without loving them in return. He won’t allow himself to disappear back into the abyss, swallowed by grief and despair. They might not know it but Athos loves them just as much as they love him and it’s absolutely terrifying.

“I love you, too.” His own voice sounds hollow and distant, plagued by inexperience. Athos grew up never expecting his parents or brother to voice his love for him, his mother had displayed her love for him through acts of kindness and compassionate, even his father, who died cursing his name, showed a degree of love toward him, however small.

“I can’t offer much..” He mumbles, down casting his eyes into their lap. “I can’t offer anything,” Athos had nothing to his name, he had no riches or land, all of it hung with the beautiful brunette he’d left behind. “But I can promise to love you..for however long we can.”

Aramis lifts his chin, a wide smile on his lips, there’s a glow of unshed tears in his eyes, making Athos’ heart clench. “To whatever end, amour.” His lips on his then and Athos erupts.

Unsurprisingly the kiss with Aramis was like an explosion — he treated him with such care it wasn’t hard to believe that he was popular around the woman in the city; his lips are soft and taste like chives, either from whatever meal, or the endless jars of healing rubs, he’d made earlier that day.

Athos looses himself in the kiss, enjoying the feeling of Aramis’ fingers slipping through his hair. He pulls always only long enough to leave a trail of kisses down the side of neck, claiming him just above his collar bone, causing a moan to escape his lips, his body trembling with want.

To quickly Aramis pulled away, smirking at him, “You need to rest, Athos, we can’t have you pulling on your stitches.” For a moment the entire world stopped, he felt content and safe. Porthos smiles at him over Aramis shoulder, offering his support without question.

“Don’t worry, Athos,” His voice heavy, “ We’ll be here when you’re rested.” Porthos leaned forward, placing a small kiss above his eyebrow, his warmth spreading through him. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Nestled in Aramis’ lap, Athos closed his eyes and let the steady heartbeat of the smaller man to pull him under.

Chapter Text

“Why is it always you three?”

Athos can feel Treville’s anger from across the room, he can’t stop the pang of dread from settling in his stomach, even with Porthos and Aramis standing steadily beside him.

Porthos has his arms folded across his chest with a lazy smirk on his face, everything about him screams how cocky he is, however Athos knows by the slight twitch of his upper lip that he’s just as worried as he is. “What can we say?” He mutters, causing the captain’s eyes to narrow. “We’re just that lucky.”

Luck had nothing to do with it. They just always happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Athos knows this, hell even Treville knew it, it is properly why he grouped them together, it’s better to have them causing trouble as a group rather than independently, not that Porthos or Aramis would ever let the Captain separate them anyway.

Treville leans back in his chair, mimicking Porthos. “I’m glad that you find this amusing Porthos, especially with the Cardinal breathing down my neck,” He’s practically yelling now, his words becoming more rushed and angry. “You three are lucky I haven’t suspended you or worse, you damn well know brawling with the Red Guards is illegal and you bloody continue to do it!

Athos, I suspected a hole of a hell lot more from you, I don’t give a damn who started the fight, you should have the sense to end it or at least prevent it. The Cardinal wants your shields and is demanding payment for the guards you two injured.”

“Payment for injuries!” Aramis cuts in, his accent heavy. “Did the Cardinal fail to mention how one of his men almost killed Athos? If it hadn’t been for Porthos’ quick thinking he would have bled out in the street. The Cardinal can stick his payments up his-“

Athos shoots Aramis a look from beside Porthos, interrupting him before he could say anything that would land him with shovling the stables for the rest of his career. “The brawl with the red guards was unpreventable.” He says, tracing the hilt of his sword with his thumb. “It won’t happen again.”

Porthos bristles beside him, causing Athos to grab the larger man’s hand, he grips it tightly, praying he gets the message to back down, they’re already in the dog house, the last thing they need is to piss Treville off even more.

A few silence hangs between the four of them, threatening to suffocate all the air out of Athos’ lungs.

“You three are on castle duty until further notice,” His attention flashes to Athos, there’s a disappointment in his gaze that makes him squirm. “I want to speak to you alone, you can join the others afterwards.”

Aramis moves to jump to his defensive but falls back in line with a shake of his head, he’s not willing to lose the opportunity to still work with Porthos and Aramis because they’re angry with the captain. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” He mutters, his lips turning up in small smile. “Stop worrying, it’s not a good look on either of you.”

Aramis brushes his hand across his before stalking out the room, Athos swears the room grows darker, Porthos flashes Treville a look, murder written on his face, before following after Aramis.

His entire childhood Athos had been able to stand in front of his father without flinching, a few choice words and a sneer look often resulted in his earning of a back hand, but with Treville he felt scared.

Not that he was frightened of the man, there wasn’t much that scared Athos, other than the demons lurking just around dark corners, he was terrified of disappointing Treville so horribly that the man would regret ever taking a chance on him.

“Have you been drinking again, Olivier?” Treville asks, his voice steady and unwavering. Athos found it amusing that the captain thought he’d ever stopped. If anything his attention to booze had only gotten worse since the last time Treville pulled him out of a soaked bender.

“Not entirely,” He can’t lie to the captain, he’d see right through it and demand him to speak the truth or forever damn him. “Not as much.” He corrects himself upon seeing the look on Treville’s face.

Standing from his desk, the captain walks in front of him, there’s a grace to him that Athos has never been able to master, no matter how long he trained. “You don’t engag in street brawls, Olivier.” He hates how broken his true name sounds on his lips, he hates it even more that Treville is using it as a punishment. “I made you lieutenant because I believed you could lead these men in the right direction, you can’t do that if you’re thoughts are fogged.”

Athos didn’t know how to explain to Treville that the instinct to protect Porthos had been greater than his moral compass, he suspected the captain wouldn’t accept the excuse.

“I apologize,” Athos hates this office, he despises how dark and cold is, especially without Porthos and Aramis by his side. “I misjudged the situation and acted without thinking.” Truthfully he’d do it again, regardless of the consequences.

Treville lets out a deep sigh, placing a hand on his arm. “Don’t make me regret this decision Olivier, make the right choices and be the leader I know you can be, the men picked you for a reason.” Once before he would had thrived on the captain’s touch, now it leaves a burning sensation on his skin, there were far to many things Treville had to answer for.

“Understood.” He only lingers long enough for Treville to nod and return back to his work.

A light snow had began to fall when Athos slips back outside, the men are busy preparing for the day, Porthos and Aramis are sitting on the benches beside the kitchen, a few men surround them, no doubt trying to get every detail of the fight from them.

“Unless you want to be stuck mucking our the stables I suggest you get to work,” The men nod their heads in greeting before leaving the table, only a few linger around the barricks, most likely trying to catch wind of whatever conversation they’re about to have. “I must say you’re building your ego quite fast for someone who wasn’t in the brawl.”

Athos takes a glass of wine from the centre of the table and holds it between the palms of his hands, hoping the cold will settle his racing heart.

“What can I say?” Aramis flashes him a breath taking smirk and nudges him in the ribs. “I have a gift.”

“You mean your big head?” Porthos cuts in, earning a jab in the arm from Aramis. It only takes a few moments of being with them to calm his racing heart, no matter how long he’s been working with them Athos will never get use to how quickly they’re able to centre him.

“How much trouble are you in?”

“I bet he got the scolding of a life time, Treville’s resting bitch face could put Porthos to shame.”

Athos smirks into his glass, rolling his shoulders in a shrug, “No one has a better resting bitch face than Porthos.” The first time anyone met the larger man they were terrified, he was force of nature in of itself, loyal and protective and to an outsider fiercely dangerous.

Throwing his head back Porthos laughs, draping his arms around their shoulders. “The amount of love I feel from the two of you is astonishing, it’s no wonder I put up with you on a daily basis.”

“Someone has to keep you grounded, Porth.”

These were the moments Athos enjoyed, sitting with two people he cared about, not having to worry about the dangers of the world around them, it didn’t matter that the Cardinal was doing his best to get him fired or that Treville was keeping secrets, the only thing he truly cared about was the people at this table.

Aramis cocked his head to the side, looking at him, there’s a smile on his lips, highlighting his flawless features and breathtaking eyes. “You alright, amour?”

“Never better.”

For the first time in a long time Athos even believed that himself, he only wished their enteral bless lasted longer.