[personal profile] bbcmusketeerskink
So, this is, as a test, the first free-for all prompt post. The place for people to post their more extreme kink requests or any prompts that they have been made too uncomfortable to post on the regular prompt post due to the large amount of requests for trigger warnings.

I am also, as a test as well, going to copy prompts from the other prompt posts that have to be screened due to lack of warnings, but don't break the rules, into this post since no one has ever reposted a screened prompt and it was mentioned in the discussion of this idea that it might be because people were afraid to/put-off.

I, as mod, am all kinds of supportive of people who have triggers, but the meme needs to be a place for everyone and I can't just protect one side and keep the other feeling uncomfortable.

There will be no mandatory trigger warnings on this post. I cannot possibly stress this enough. This does not mean that people aren't allowed to use them if they want to, or as a courtesy, but they are not required.

So I implore you, if you have triggers, are easily triggered, please tread carefully and maybe avoid this post all together. Because there will also not be any trigger warning requests or screening for triggers on this post. If you look through it anyway, that is your own responsibility.

The rules of the other prompt posts, which are as follows, still apply.

No wank
No kink-shaming
Be respectful to everyone
As lenient as we'll be on this post, prompts containing people under the age of 16 in sexual situations will still not be accepted.
The mod is not your babysitter
Keep the discussions on the prompt post to a minimum and use the discussion post instead.


Announcement: A blanket spoiler warning is necessary for prompts pertaining to season 2. Just season 2 Spoilers in the subject line will do.


Fill: By Design 1/? TW rape, pissing, violence

Date: 2014-05-21 12:09 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Unpleasant stuff so read at your peril. Contains explicit descriptions of rape and violence.


1.

The matter is of utmost confidentiality and so Athos, alone, has been entrusted to deliver the message to the Duke's envoys. He’ll return to the garrison afterwards where Porthos and Aramis will doubtless be waiting for him. They'll have a night out at their favourite alehouse, during which time he'll get drunk, fall to the floor and wait for his friends to pick him up. They'll laugh at his condition and then help him back to his lodgings. This is how the day is supposed to progress.

It does not go this way. Athos meets the men, black cloaked and dressed in Spanish livery, but immediately he knows something's not right: there are more than he's expecting, the accents are wrong, and for some reason they're offended by the very presence of a King's Musketeer. Huguenots perhaps. Criminals who've been imprisoned by them in the past -- by him even.

Closing in, the men mask their faces with bandanas, surrounding him before he has time to evade capture. When they draw him from his horse he's ready with pistol and sword, wounding one with a shot to the belly and at least three more with his blade. It's not enough, of course, and as he's dragged to the ground and disarmed, it's with his friends' names on his lips. He's never had comrades before, brothers for whom he would lay down his life, or trust completely with his own. For once, through no fault of their own, they're not here to help him.

Athos is strong; two years of training with the King's own regiment has made him this way and he doesn't succumb easily, but with him alone against at least seven opponents he has no chance of escape. Drawn swiftly, his dagger wounds one more fellow, but the slice to the collarbone only causes anger. A vicious knee to his genitals is proof of that and he's further winded by a fist to his solar plexus.

"What say we have some proper fun with our Musketeer?" says a voice, icy cold and ready to cause trouble.

Athos knows he is indeed in deep trouble. Their meeting spot is a quiet junction of roads to the north east of Paris: a clearing within a thicket of trees, the nearby river gushing past to mask the sound of any cries for help. He only hopes his death will be swift.

"Strip him."

The doublet is ripped from him, buttons flying off, seams tearing, as two of the brutes hold him down and another makes short shrift of the remainder of his clothing. Even his underthings are removed. Perhaps the humiliation of leaving him naked and bloody will be enough for them. He doubts it though and prays again for death.

The ring leader squats next to him, a blade pressed against Athos's throat as he gives out orders. "Fuck that noble French face of his," he says to one man. The point of the dagger jabs into soft skin. "And you, soldier. Bite him and you die."

The chosen man sits astride Athos’s chest, his breeches open, a hand working furiously at his prick to rouse its interest. When that erection thrusts inside Athos’s mouth he snaps his jaws shut, blood running into his throat, and he has the small satisfaction of hearing the man scream in agony. He clamps tighter as the dagger point draws a thin line down the side of his neck. Kill me, is all he can think. You promised. Kill me and throw me in the river.

"You pestilent piece of shit," sobs his victim.

Choking, Athos releases the man and spits out a mouthful of blood. "Damn you to hell."

"There's no place for me in your Papist purgatory," sneers the leader as the barrel of his pistol is forced between Athos's lips. "Shall I blow his brains out?" he says in a strange, sing-song voice. "No. I think we'll have some fun first. Fucking a corpse is always so disappointing. Turn him over, boys."

Manhandled into a prone position Athos closes his eyes then buries his face in the sweet smelling grass as he remembers the creak of a branch and blue petals drifting on the breeze.

Something cold and vicious hammers its way inside him. The hilt of a dagger? The barrel of a pistol? He's split in two and the pain is so intense that his brain is awash with its own narcotic relief. Wetness runs onto his thighs, trickling hot over his skin. He will not cry. He will not beg. He'll only wait for death.

"That'll ease the path," laughs the leader and his voice is thick with pleasure and so close to Athos that he can feel huffs of excitement on his bare skin.

A heavy weight compresses him until he's struggling to breathe, leaves and loam pushing into his mouth and nose. He's mounted like a bitch. Pounding thrusts damage his torn insides, the spill of salt an extra agony to bear. Another man takes him. Another. Another. Yet another.

"He's too wet," complains a voice.

"Roll him over and use his mouth then."

"Not after what he did to Besnard earlier. I'll have to fuck him harder is all."

The two laugh together and Athos wonders what it is that turns men into monsters.

Held by the hair, head yanked back, he's taken again and again, brutalised until he's blessed with a loss of consciousness. He wakes to a final act of humiliation as they surround him, letting loose streams of urine that sting his eyes and flood his mouth and nose until he's drowning in piss.

The leader crouches, dark eyes staring at him from above the bandana. "I won't kill you, Musketeer and I won't leave you a weapon to kill yourself, but thank you for the evening's entertainment. It was indeed a pleasure to have you. Pass on my gratitude to Captain Treville."

Mounting up, they ride in circles around him, jeering him as they go. "Remember, what I said," shouts the leader as he spurs his horse on and leads his band of men away.

Curling into a foetal position Athos is left alone to lick his wounds: naked, bleeding and torn to shreds. All things but dead.

tbc
From: (Anonymous)
Wow. That was intense. I am very interested in what comes next. Poor Athos! How will he get home?
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you very much. It was a bit eeeee wasn't it? I worry myself at times.

From: (Anonymous)
poor athos :( i hope the boys shower him with fluff and cuddles to make it all better /o/
From: (Anonymous)
Heh, who knows. we'll have to wait and see. Thank you for reading.
From: (Anonymous)
Original anon here.....

OMFG, you have totally exceeded my hopes with this, it's bloody brilliant! Brutal and intense, but staying wholly believable and in character.

I might just be hyper-ventilating a teensy weensy bit!

*rushes off to re-read*
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you so much for the fantastic response. I'm glad it was what you were after.

Thank you also for the brilliant prompt that tied together all the loose ends in my pre-show head canon.
From: (Anonymous)
Crawling to the river's edge he immerses himself in the icy water, staying there until the shivering subsides and a deathly cold is closing in fast. The easiest thing would be to let go of life, but these men want revenge against all the Musketeers and he must stay alive long enough to warn Treville of the danger.

Dragging himself out of the water he dresses slowly in ragged clothes and then collects his horse from where she is grazing. Sensing his distress she whinnies at him as he manages, with great difficulty, to mount her. They’ve damaged him badly; wetness seeps out of him and he has no idea whether it originates from spendings or blood.

Used to taking care of her owner when he's worse the wear from drink, the horse is gentle with Athos on the journey back to Paris. Dismounting with a muted groan outside his lodgings he slaps her on the hind quarters, knowing that she will return to the garrison stables close by where she'll be fed and watered by the grooms.

Every step is agony and with grim determination he makes it up the flight of wooden stairs and to his room. Lighting a candle from one of the lanterns in the hallway he undresses and stares at the heap of ruined garments on the floor. He has no choice but to ask for assistance.

"Mme Bonacieux," he calls, wrapping a thin blanket around his near naked body. "Could I trouble you a moment?"

His landlady is remarkably young and pretty but steadfast in her ways. She's there in a second, opening the door of his room and bustling in with the air of someone many years older. "How can I help, Monsieur?" And then she sees him and her reaction tells a story. "Athos," she breathes. "My dear man, what has happened to you?"

"Don't worry yourself." Athos holds himself together by a thread. "I was hoping you could repair my uniform, only I have no other. I can pay well."

"Of course." She sits next to him on the bed and, ignoring the destroyed clothes, she turns instead to the destroyed man, examining the bite marks and cuts that she can see above the edging of the blanket. "Oh, Athos. Who did this? What did they do to you?"

Athos shivers as the shame overwhelms him. He cannot tell her. He doubts he can tell anyone.

"I have water heating in the copper," she continues. "I'll fill a bath for you. Plenty of salt will help with these wounds."

He's grateful, but unsure whether he can make it down the stairs, let alone into the tub. "Don't put yourself to any trouble, Madame."

"It's no bother," she says with hands on hips, a little of that resilient spirit returned to her. "You won't look after yourself so someone has to do it for you." Gathering the heap of garments in her arms she hurries to the door. "I'll help you when the bath is ready. Bonacieux is not here at present so we'll have to manage as best we can."

"Do not let anyone see me this way," he begs and is thankful again for her kindness when she nods and leaves him to his thoughts.

Alone now Athos lies on his side, reaching under the bed for a bottle. For once he is grateful for his past which has made him welcome the oblivion of drink. Tonight he needs it more than ever and he swallows the wine greedily until it is almost half gone. It's only the sound of a commotion downstairs that prevents him from finishing the rest at record speed.

"I'm looking for Athos. His horse has returned to the garrison without him."

"He’s not here, Monsieur," says Mme Bonacieux. "Perhaps try the tap rooms. That's where he's usually to be found."

"I'll see for myself, thank you." As Athos hears the captain's footsteps pounding up the stairs he rolls over, gasping with agony as he faces the wall, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders.

"Athos, what is your news? Are you drunk already, man?" Treville grabs him by a shoulder and turns him roughly in the bed. The bottle falls to the floor and Athos cannot prevent the agonised cry from escaping him at this harsh treatment.

"You will leave this house right now, sir." Madame Bonacieux is determined, but Treville brushes her aside and kneels by the bed.

"Athos," he says gently. "Was this the work of the Duke's men?"

"It was not as we were led to believe, Sir." Pushing past the assault Athos focuses on the events leading up to it. "They were not Spanish. A mixed bunch of nationalities I think, though I’m not certain. The ring leader was a protestant for sure." Footsteps scurry back and forth and Athos is bewildered, weak from it all. "There was a name, but not the man in charge." He struggles to recall it, his mind growing wearier by the second. "Bernard or perhaps Besnard?"

Treville breathes in sharp and quick.

"The salt bath is ready," says Madame Bonacieux. "Seeing as you've barged your way into my home, Captain, you can at least help us with it."

"Gladly," says the Captain and still kneeling by the bed he turns to Athos. "How shall we do this for the best?"

Leave me to fester and die, is what Athos would like to say. Instead he manages a half smile. "As quickly as possible?"

"Good man," says Treville.

Biting his lip until he can taste iron, Athos allows them to help him to his feet and when the blanket falls from his shoulders there is a perceptible moment's silence from the captain and a horrified intake of breath from Mme Bonacieux. It is as Athos had feared; he is damaged internally and bloody from his injuries. A survivor he might be, but he cannot help but wish for the bleeding to turn out mortal.

The journey from chamber to tub is near enough impossible to cope with. Athos is afraid he may have passed out on the way and ended up in a shoulder lift over the captain's back when his entry into the hot salt water proves both sudden and shocking to his system. Glancing to his right he sees his discarded small clothes dyed crimson.

"I'll make up your bed," says Mme Bonacieux. "And some beef stew won't go amiss."

Athos shakes his head at the last suggestion and, to his relief, no one argues. Food is the furthest thing from his mind at present.

Treville draws up a chair and sits with elbows resting on his knees, staring down at the floor. When he looks up there is murder in his eyes. "How many were there?"

"Ten, maybe a dozen. I'm not certain." The bath is too hot; Athos is dizzy and lifeless, but at least he feels cleansed.

"How many raped you?"

The captain has never been one to mince his words and Athos reacts as if he's been struck, defences on full alert. He's not thought of it in such terms before. Throughout the bible, throughout history, women are the ones who suffer rape.

"All of them I believe." He’d stopped counting after the eighth man spent inside him.

Treville breathes in again, visibly shaken. "I'll order a physician to visit here in the morning."

"You will not," says Athos with conviction. "Nor will you tell anyone what has happened to me other than that I was beaten. If either Porthos or Aramis so much as hear one word more then I'll leave the regiment with immediate effect."

"Athos, you don't need to bear this with anything other than anger," says Treville. "The only shame attached is to those that did it."

Athos looks up at him, his eyes narrowing. "When they'd finished fucking me, they pissed all over me then left me as a calling card for you," he says. "How am I supposed to feel anything but shame at that?"

tbc
From: (Anonymous)
Original anon here again.

Oh fuck this is brilliant! I love the fact that he's lodging with Constance, and Treville's reaction is just perfect!

I am so in love with this story! And so very chuffed you picked up this prompt.

Thank you!

Eagerly looking forward to more!
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you so much! I'm really glad you like it. I'm enjoying writing it a lot.

From: (Anonymous)
Oh my god. Thank you for updating. I love the addition of Constance as his landlady! Her bustling is so reassuring and tender. I want to scream for Aramis and Porthos! Athos, you poor sweet idiot.
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you! I love Constance. She's such a strong female character and she's a joy to write.

From: (Anonymous)
Poor Athos :-( I'm glad he has Constance and Treville to look after him.
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you!

He's lucky to have them. They're good in a crisis. :)
From: (Anonymous)
that was so good /o/
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you. Glad you're enjoying.
From: (Anonymous)
Oh, thank god he's home. And with people who care. Please update soon!
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you so much!

Have updated.

Fill: By Design 3/? TW rape, pissing, violence

Date: 2014-05-24 10:08 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
“You’re angry with me,” says Treville, cocking his head to one side. “And you have every right to be. I should have learned by now that even the simplest of missions can always turn out to be a hazard.”

“Get me out of this damn bath,” says Athos, leaning forward in the tub and grimacing at the pain. He’s not angry with Treville; he’s angry at everyone. Except perhaps Porthos and Aramis and, of course, Mme Bonacieux who hurries in a with a fresh bucket of hot water.

“No, you don’t. Soak a while longer,” she says, tipping it into the bath. “It’ll do you good, make a change from soaking yourself in all that wine.” With tenderness in her eyes she examines the cuts and bite marks that cover Athos’s upper torso. “I have some liniment for these. I’ll be back in a while; I’ll bring it with me then.”

“Your landlady is a gift from Heaven,” says Treville as he watches her go.

“She is,” agrees Athos, but once again this is not what’s uppermost in his mind. After today’s events he’s worried for the safety of his fellow Musketeers. “Captain, you know these men. I can tell that the name Besnard means something to you. Whatever revenge they intend to mete out then this is only the start of it. What is this about?”

He’s suffered in every way possible; he has the right to know what reasons lay behind his assault.

Treville steeples his hands and begins to talk. “Besnard is the henchman of a soldier named Vallion, both former Musketeers who were members of this regiment long before you three were commissioned.

There was a series of brutal attacks on Catholics in the area, but for months no one could find out who was responsible. Finally I caught Vallion and his men in the act, setting fire to a convent and razing it to the ground. There was hearsay that the nuns had been tortured and worse, but no survivors lived to tell of what actually happened. The men were dishonourably discharged from the regiment then convicted of arson and grievous assault, but there was not enough evidence to hang them for their crimes.”

Treville rubs a weary hand across his eyes. “Athos, I’m sorry. If I’d been forewarned that these men were to be released from prison then I would have been extra vigilant.” He looks up, concern written clear on his face. “There will be justice, I promise, but for now I need you to take time and recover from this as best you can so you can resume active service as soon as possible.”

Athos feels cold at the thought of returning to his duties. He’s empty of everything besides hate. He cannot be a Musketeer.

“I know it won’t be easy, but I’ll be here for you every step of the way,” says Treville, correctly assessing Athos’s thoughts on the subject. "After all, where would I be without my lieutenant by my side as a voice of reason?"

By now Athos's skin is turning pruned and he looks to Treville for help in getting him out of the water. It’s a difficult task and, in the end, Mme Bonacieux is required as a prop whilst the captain partially lifts him from the tub. Finally, after a few precarious moments, he’s standing on the rag rug by the fire and drying off with a towel.

“The bleeding appears to have stopped for now,” says Treville as Athos suffers the indignity of a cursory examination whilst Mme Bonacieux dresses the worst of his wounds.

“You’ll be black and blue tomorrow,” she says, painting the majority of his body with strong smelling ointment. “They’ve worked you over good and proper, my dear.”

Athos is overwhelmed by her kindness and her practical nature. “Thank you,” he says in a monotone.

“No need for words,” says the lady. “You can thank me in two ways: firstly, by getting better and secondly by calling me Constance rather than Madame.” She hands him a pile of clothes. “Here, I think these will fit. Just mended garments that haven’t been collected by their owners. They’ll do until I repair your uniform. Captain, you’ll help him get dressed and back upstairs to bed.”

It’s an order rather than a request and both men are far too used to military discipline to do anything other than obey her.

Dressing is taxing enough on its own, but the staircase, afterwards, is a mountain to climb. The extreme pain from every part of his body is too much to bear and, at the halfway point, Athos slumps helpless against Treville.

“What’s happened here?” comes a booming voice from the hallway that can only belong to Porthos.

“I’d blame the usual culprit,” says Aramis, racing up the stairs two at a time, “but I can see from those cuts and bruises and the shiner of an eye that wine is not the cause of this.” He takes one side and Porthos the other, leaving the captain, exhausted from lugging a lifeless man about for the past few hours, to help them negotiate doorways and assist in getting Athos between clean sheets. Despite the humiliation it's an utter relief to have his friends here as support.

Once they’ve chivvied him into his bed the conversation turns serious. “What went wrong?” growls Porthos. “I thought it was supposed to be an easy errand job. Don’t look like one to me.”

“It was a trap,” explains Treville ruefully. “Some former Musketeers with an eye for vengeance. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, but in the meantime keep vigilant. These men are killers.”

“They’ve half killed you, my friend,” says Aramis, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking Athos over. “Dear God, that’s a bite mark,” he says, staring in horror at Athos’s left shoulder. “What kind of animals are these people?”

“Unpleasant ones,” drawls Athos, and if he were well enough he’d run. “Pass me that brandy, would you.”

Without question Treville hands him the bottle and Athos takes it, unable to mask the grimace of pain as he moves to a more upright position.

"Let me see to your injuries," says Aramis. "I'm sure Madame has some medical supplies I can make use of."

"He's been looked after," says Treville brusquely.

"No!" says Athos at the same time and the vehemence of both these statements cause Aramis and Porthos to stare at them in confusion. Athos chews his lower lip and then takes a long pull from the bottle. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself.

"He's in safe hands, Captain," says Aramis to Treville. "Feel free to leave if you have other matters to attend to."

Aramis must think he’ll have more chance of weeding out the truth when it's just the three of them present. In any other instance he'd be correct, but for many reasons Athos needs to keep today's events as private as possible, most importantly for the sake of his friends who, if they found out, would endanger their own lives in the name of revenge.

"I'll stay," says Treville curtly. "I have nowhere else to be."

tbc
From: (Anonymous)
You know who here again.

Saw this was here a couple of hours ago but was about to go out to eat so let it until I could savour it properly.

I'm so lucky Constance' s calm practicality in this and wondering how quickly the others will work it out.

Treville makes a very good mother hen as well!

Loving this so bloody much.

Re: Fill: By Design 3/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-28 12:16 pm (UTC) - Expand
From: (Anonymous)
I'm loving this fill. The way they close ranks around him and despite his earlier alarm at being seen in his condition he doesn't send them away. Beautiful.

Re: Fill: By Design 3/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-28 12:16 pm (UTC) - Expand
From: (Anonymous)
The plot thickens! I want to lock all the doors against the bad guys. Be careful, Musketeers!

Re: Fill: By Design 3/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-28 12:17 pm (UTC) - Expand
From: (Anonymous)
What a brilliant read! Absolutely loving it. Excellent characterisation and just the best hurt before comfort.

Re: Fill: By Design 3/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-28 12:18 pm (UTC) - Expand
From: (Anonymous)
Poor Athos. At least he has his friends to look after him.

Re: Fill: By Design 3/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-28 12:18 pm (UTC) - Expand

Fill: By Design 4/? TW rape, pissing, violence

Date: 2014-05-28 12:13 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
The brandy helps Athos sink into a fitful sleep: one that's filled with horrifying dreams in which he's raped repeatedly until there's nothing left of him but a bloody mess that soaks into barren ground. He's lost everything; his previous life has stolen away any chance of a wife and family and now this has destroyed all other hope of companionship. He is desolate.

With eyes open, the emptiness of his future seems all too real. When they're closed he's flooded with images: jeering faces that stare down at him as he's fucked by every implement to hand. At first the tears fall without him even being aware of them, but then he's torn apart by great wracking sobs that leave him choking and breathless, yet still unable to stop crying. Chest heaving in soundless, helpless waves he curls onto his side and submits to his anguish.

The warm hand on his shoulder frightens him at first, but when it lays still, taking the greatest of care not to hurt him, he relaxes into its touch.

"That's it, my lad, cry it out. You'll feel better for it afterwards."

When the sobbing eventually subsides, Athos turns with difficulty to see the outline of Treville seated next to him. He has no idea what the hour is, but there's a glimmer of light through the window so it seems the captain has stayed with him throughout the night.

After helping Athos with a chamber pot Treville sees him back into bed. "Sleep again if you can. I'll be here with you."

Athos falls silent and still, exhausted from crying and yet unable to drift off--a would-be corpse waiting for death--but then Treville's hand returns to his shoulder and it’s a thing of comfort in an otherwise empty world.

"I would sooner have died myself than had this happen to you, my dearest man." The words are a low whisper, barely audible above the sounds of life coming from outside as dawn breaks and the world wakes with it, but Athos hears them and believes them.


---


The next time he opens his eyes it's to the sound of footsteps and the clanking of dishes. Mme Bonacieux is hurrying into the room, armed with enough food for the entire regiment as she places the tray on a nearby table.

"Really, I'm not hungry," says Athos, sitting up as much as he can manage and biting back a hiss of pain.

"You'll never recover if you don't eat," says Mme Bonacieux. “So, do as you’re told.”

"Yes, Madame."

She looks at Athos, her arms folded across her chest.

"Yes, Constance," he says, amending his mistake. "Maybe some bread and milk." Not to put too fine a point on it, what goes in must come out and he's truly dreading that part.

"We won't let you starve yourself," says Treville with a knowing look. "Not for any reason." Getting to his feet and stretching aching limbs he collects his hat from the top of the chest of drawers. "I have some regimental matters to deal with, but I'll be back later to help you bathe." He places a hand carefully on Athos's shoulder. "Now eat up and do as Mme Bonacieux says."

Athos stares at his hands and almost manages a smile. He has a definite feeling that this is what family life is supposed to be like: something he never experienced personally, with his mother away at court and his father, an ambassador for the King, living in England. He and Thomas saw them occasionally and even spent time in London as children. It was exciting, but not what you'd call familial.

"I'll make certain he behaves, Captain, don't you worry," says Constance, her arms still folded in that customary pose, and both men exchange a glance, knowing that it would be a brave man who'd ever cross her.

Once alone, Athos eats a few mouthfuls and then pushes the tray aside. There's time enough for food when he's recovered. Wary of sleeping, terrified he might wake in another fit of hysterics, he props himself up in the bed and plans his revenge. Hours pass, how many of them he's not sure, and then he hears two sets of footsteps echoing down the hallway.

"How's our patient today?" says Aramis, breezing into the room with Porthos a few paces behind.

"Better, I think," says Athos. It's not entirely truthful; he's still ripped to shreds and is suffering a low grade fever, but he doesn't long for death quite as much as he did yesterday.

"Good to hear," says Aramis, his mouth thinning into a line. "Although you look a little flushed for that to be fact."

"I noticed your weapons were missing," says Porthos. "So I did a hunt around and came up with these." He places a rapier, parrying dagger and brace of pistols on the scratched surface of the chest of drawers. "Good job you weren't carrying that with you." His eyes dart to the Francis I sword that's mounted on the wall.

"Thank you, my friend." Athos is grateful--he'd felt vulnerable without them--however Musketeers are not rich men and he has an idea Porthos may have temporarily returned to light fingered ways in order to replenish his weapon stocks.

"You're welcome. Can't be a soldier without arms." Porthos gazes at the array of food on the table. "You finished with this?" he asks and, after receiving a nod from Athos, immediately begins to pick away at the breakfast tray.

Aramis has other things on his mind as he sits at Athos's bedside, worry etched deep as he leans forwards and speaks softly. "Just from looking at you I can see you're in a tremendous amount of pain. You're running a fever, the bite on your neck needs cleaning and, if the bruises on your body are as livid as the ones I can see on your arms, then you may well be suffering internal injuries."

Athos stares at him, willing him to stop speaking, but Aramis carries on.

"I must examine you to make sure there’s nothing urgent enough for a surgeon to be called. Treville is a good captain but no medic."

"I've seen a physician," says Athos stubbornly.

"Fine words but a lie nonetheless," says Aramis. "Now, strip off and roll over onto your belly so I can tend to you. If you continue to be difficult I'll have to employ Porthos's skill as anaesthetist and he's never that delicate with his punches."

Athos will not have them knowing his business. Huddling into the corner with the bedclothes pulled around him he glares at Aramis -- a wounded animal in distress. "I told you I'd been seen to. Now get out of here and leave me alone."

"Athos! Stop being a fool and let Aramis look after you." Porthos spreads butter onto a huge doorstep of bread and sprinkles it with salt.

"Go," says Athos again, that simmering rage coming to the fore. He's shaking: furious that no one will allow him any control over his own life.

Aramis rests a gentling hand on Athos's arm. "You're not in your right mind at present and it has nothing to do with brandy or fever. We'll leave you alone for now, but know this and do not forget it; you will always be our friend and a thousand angry words will not alter that."

Before they leave Aramis opens his leather satchel and takes out a glass vial and a small ceramic pot which he places on the table along with a wad of bandage. "The tincture will bring down the fever. The salve will help heal any open wounds so tell Treville to use it on you as often as possible."

Athos is expecting, at very least, a disappointed look from Porthos, but instead both men depart for the garrison with nothing but a tangible air of concern about them. Bitterness and regret welling up inside him Athos chokes back the need to scream, to vomit, to destroy the few things left in his small and hopeless world.

He loves Porthos and Aramis with all his heart. The two men are closer than a couple: so close it's hard to ascertain, at times, where one begins and the other ends. They're comfortable in their love with a bond that will never be broken, and for a while now Athos has been of the impression that they'd like him to join them in their bed. Before Vallion it was something he'd considered many times over -- most often at night in the privacy of his rooms. How good would it feel to be loved by two such men?

The truth of the matter is that he’ll never now know. Not because of his earlier temper tantrum--he’ll always be forgiven such aberrations--but because they are overwhelming and he is more broken than ever.

tbc

Re: Fill: By Design 4/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-28 04:50 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 4/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-29 03:44 pm (UTC) - Expand

Fill: By Design 5/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-29 03:44 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 5/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-30 03:15 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 5/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-01 04:34 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 5/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-30 09:42 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 5/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-01 04:37 pm (UTC) - Expand

Fill: By Design 6/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-01 04:33 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 6/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-01 06:52 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 6/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-03 08:14 pm (UTC) - Expand

Fill: By Design 7/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-03 08:38 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 7/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-03 10:23 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 7/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 07:00 am (UTC) - Expand

Fill: By Design 8/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 06:58 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 8/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 12:12 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 8/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-06 08:34 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 8/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 08:07 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 8/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-06 08:36 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 8/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-06 05:42 pm (UTC) - Expand

Fill: By Design 9/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-06 08:26 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 9/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-06 05:52 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 9/10 TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-07 08:23 am (UTC) - Expand

Fill: By Design 10/10 + epilogue TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-07 08:16 am (UTC) - Expand

Fill: By Design - Epilogue. TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-07 08:18 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design - Epilogue. TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-07 07:36 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design - Epilogue. TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-07 08:24 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 10/10 + epilogue TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-07 07:30 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 10/10 + epilogue TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-07 08:19 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 10/10 + epilogue TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-08 03:35 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 4/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-30 09:36 am (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: By Design 4/? TW rape, pissing, violence

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-01 04:39 pm (UTC) - Expand

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