Round 2

[bbcmusketeerskink]

Welcome to the BBC The Musketeers kink meme

The lowdown: You post your prompt, anon or not. Someone else will hopefully fill it (also anon or not). Not for profit, just for fun. And in this case, for king and country.

Anon is on, IP logging is off.

Rules:
No wank
No kink-shaming
Be respectful to everyone
The mod is not your babysitter
Use the warnings
No prompts with characters under the age of 16 in sexual situations, please.
Please keep the discussions in the prompt post to a minimum. We have a discussion post

Mandatory trigger warnings/warnings for both prompts and fills:
non-con/dub-con
abuse (physical and mental)
issues such as racism, sexism, homo-/trans-/-bi-/ace-phobia etc
character death
suicide
self-harm
eating disorders
extreme physical or mental illness
substance abuse (alcohol, drugs, medication)
bullying
gore and horror

If this list misses anything, do let me know, though please understand that if absolutely everything is added this list will never end.

You are encouraged and advised to add additional warnings at your own discretion.

Please make use of the subject line.

If your prompt alludes to the book or any of the other adaptations, please let us know which one.

Lastly, prompt freezes (which I have to say I’m really not fond of) etc will be at the mod’s discretion. I will decide on a prompt cut-off point for prompt posts once I know how fast the meme moves.

Archive:
https://delicious.com/bbcmusketeers

Discussion post:
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/557.html

Official fill post (I strongly suggest you use it for better visibility of your fills):
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/418.html

Mod contact post
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1356.html

New updates:
- Extras fill post for the free for all rounds (as much as I hate dividing the meme even more.)
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1823.html

- To answer a question going around in the discussion post, here's a small guideline: If you're unsure about something, either decide by yourself how you want to fill it and see if OP likes it or not or communicate with OP via aksing questions.

Comments

FILL: Know Your Scars Like My Own 2/3

[(Anonymous)]

2. Aramis
Paris was in the middle of a heatwave, and no-one was finding it even slightly amusing. Most people had retreated inside, into cool hallways and damp cellars, and with good sense too. It was the hottest summer anyone could remember; there had been reports of wells drying up and deaths among the elderly of the population. Despite all of this, the King had decided to hold a garden party in the grounds of the palace. And of course, a royal garden party meant a Musketeer guard. Or guards, in this case.

Athos was utterly unamused, standing at the corner of the royal pavilion. In full uniform, completely with cloak and hat, he was sure he was going to melt. He glared at Treville, not for the first time contemplating some kind of mutiny. Treville, who got to wear light clothing and sit under the pavilion as the King’s guest.

“Hey.”

Athos looked up to see Porthos approach, removing his hat to wipe sweat from his forehead.

“Problem?” Athos asked, noting the concerned look on his face.

“Maybe.” Porthos nodded to the far corner of the pavilion, where Aramis was standing guard. Athos glanced over at his friend and frowned. Even ta this distance, his friend didn’t look to well. He was pale, and there was something in his posture that wasn’t right. Aramis took a few steps, presumably to stave off the boredom that always came with guard duty, and swayed. What bothered Athos more than this however was the fact that the other man didn’t even seem to notice what had happened. Athos cursed.

“Get him back to the garrison.” He instructed Porthos, “I’ll see the captain about it. Go.” He added, making a shooing gesture. Porthos, ever on the lookout for the wellbeing of his friends, didn’t have to be told twice.

“Come on.” Porthos slung an arm around Aramis’ shoulders, “Time to go.”

Aramis gave him a confused look, “Are we being relieved?” he enquired.

“No,” Porthos replied, “I’m taking you back to the garrison before I have to carry you there.” He began leading Aramis away.

“I’m fine.” Aramis insisted, “The heat is certainly unpleasant, but there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Porthos just continued to lead Aramis in the direction of the garrison. He and Athos were never sure if Aramis always insisted that he was alright because he didn’t want to be embarrassed by them having to look after him in a public setting, or because they recognised the symptoms of what was coming before he did. Either way, he should have learned by now.

They were halfway to the garrison by the time Athos caught up to them. Aramis was stumbling by this point, clearly unable to direct himself. If it hadn’t been for Porthos’ arm around his shoulders, he probably would have walked into something, or simply fallen over long before they arrived.
Athos went ahead to open the door for the two of them, and then busied himself closing the window shutters. He took off his cloak and hung it over the shuttered window to aid in keeping out as much light and noise as possible.

Porthos guided Aramis inside and laid him down on the narrow bed.

“Give me a hand?” he asked Athos, who had just closed the door quietly.

Together, they removed most of Aramis’ outer clothing, leaving him in just his shirt and breeches. They worked silently, knowing that even a little noise would make Aramis feel worse than he already did. As it was, both of them could see how much pain the movements of simply being undressed had him in.

Athos wet a cloth in the water bucket, wringing the excess water out and laying gently over Aramis’ forehead. Porthos watched him quietly. They both knew how to care for Aramis when he was like this, but Athos tended to take over things a little. When it had all happened the first time, Porthos had known something was wrong, but it had been Athos who had known exactly what was wrong and how to deal with things.
The two of them slipped from the darkened room, but sat just outside, leaning against the wall on either side of the door. The heat would have made concentration on a card game – their usual pastime – impossible, and they did not want to talk to loudly for fear of disturbing Aramis, so they simply sat outside his door, as if guarding him. Which, in a way, they were.


The next morning, Aramis joined Porthos at breakfast, looking exhausted and dishevelled. He spent most of the time poking listlessly at his food without actually eating anything, at one point almost falling asleep at the table.

“You going to eat that?” Porthos asked eventually, reaching for Aramis’ plate, knowing the reaction he would get.

Aramis glared at Porthos, and pulled the plate towards himself. Under Porthos’ watchful gaze, he managed at least a few mouthfuls, although he looked as if he might fall asleep at any point. Porthos also coaxed him to drink a little water, which he did with exceptionally bad grace, glowered the whole time. Porthos forgave him for it however, knowing how horrible and sick his friend was still feeling.

Once he had eaten and drunk enough to satisfy Porthos, his friend led him back to bed, Aramis tired enough that he had to lean on Porthos for some of the walk there. The room was dark, Athos’ cloaks still hanging over the window from the previous afternoon.

Porthos got Aramis settled lying on his bed once more, and was turning to leave when Aramis reached out and caught his sleeve in a loose grasp.

“Sorry,” Aramis whispered, “Didn’t wanna bother you…” his words were starting to slur together, and Porthos found that he had to concentrate in order to understand them.

“Hey, don’t apologise.” Porthos told him, “It’s not your fault.” He took Aramis’ hand from his sleeve, squeezing gently and felt Aramis squeeze back before letting go. “Get some sleep.” HE told his friend, leaving quietly.

Outside, he found Athos, who hadn’t been at breakfast. “How is he?” The other man asked, careful to keep his voice low.

“Sleeping.” Porthos replied, “For now. Where were you?”

“Treville.” Athos explained, “We have today and tomorrow off.”

“Good.” Porthos stated firmly, resuming his position from the previous day, sitting outside Aramis’ door. Athos joined him, and silently, the two of them sat guard.

Re: FILL: Know Your Scars Like My Own 2/3

[(Anonymous)]

Even better than the first chapter. :) Love it.

Re: FILL: Know Your Scars Like My Own 2/3

[(Anonymous)]

3. Porthos

Running after thieves through the twisting streets and back alleys of Paris was not how Porthos had planned to spend his Sunday morning. He’d planned to spend it in well-earned rest, sleeping off the pain of his injuries from their last mission, but instead he and his two closest friends were chasing thieves.

“That way!” Athos shouted to Aramis, pointing wildly, “Head them off!”

Aramis vanished into another alley, aiming to cut off their targets. Porthos and Athos kept running. Soon, Porthos felt what he had been waiting for – and dreading. A dull ache had started in his right knee, persistently wearing at his pace. After a few minutes, he noticed that Athos had slowed his pace so that Porthos could keep up.

“Porthos,” Athos called, still a short way ahead, “Are you alright?”

“Go!” Porthos waved him on, “I’ll catch up.” Athos gave him a concerned look, but kept running in pursuit of the thieves.

Porthos slowed his own pace to a brisk walk, testing the knee. He had dislocated it when he fell from his horse – years ago now, when he was first learning to ride – and the surrounding muscle had never properly healed, meaning that running or riding for a long period of time could cause him pain. After sending a lot of the previous two days on horseback, he had been looking forwards to not having to ride – or run – anywhere for a few days’ time.
Porthos sped up again, hearing the distant sounds of a fight. Athos and Aramis had caught up with the thieves.

Sure enough, as he ran in the direction Athos had gone, the sounds got louder, and as he rounded a corner he saw Athos and Aramis fighting with the thieves. The one that had appropriated Aramis’ sword – causing the chase in the first place - and was duelling with Athos – with a surprising degree of skill. Aramis was engaged in close-quarter combat with the other two, brutal, hand-to-hand fighting. Aramis was struggling though, using every dirty trick he knew, and his opponents didn’t seem to be tiring.

Porthos wasted no time, diving into the fight.

Unfortunately, he collected a boot heel to the side of his right knee, and he went down with a shout of pain. He caught one of the thieves as he fell however, and the man was so surprised that he hit his head on the street and didn’t get up again, unconscious. With one of his foes removed, Aramis was quickly about t dispatch the other thief, and move to help Athos.

“That belongs to me.” He said, his voice hard, as he came up behind the final thief, relieving him on his sword. With two musketeers pointing cold steel at his heart, the thief surrendered, and Athos bound his hands to prevent him from escaping.

“Porthos.” Aramis called, training his pistol on the other two thieves, “You alright?”

“Yep.” Porthos lied, standing cautiously and testing his injured knee, “Maybe not.” He corrected, swaying a little and electing to lean against a wall for balance.

“I’ll take them.” Athos offered, gesturing to the thieves, “Look after Porthos.” Aramis nodded, turning to his friend.

Porthos watched Athos lead the thieves away, the two conscious one carrying their unconscious compatriot between them.

“Come on.” Aramis approached Porthos, “Let’s get you back to the garrison.” He stepped close to the other man, putting an arm around his waist. Porthos draped his arm over Aramis’ shoulder, leaning on him as he began to limp back the way they had come.

***

By the time they made it back to the garrison, having to stop a few times so Porthos could lean against walls to take the weight off his knee, Athos had passed the thieves into custody and was waiting for them in Porthos’ room.

“Sit.” He told Porthos firmly, gesturing to the bed.

“Gladly.” Porthos replied, flopping ungracefully onto the bed and sighing with relief. “Thanks.” He added when Aramis’ moved the room’s only chair close enough to the bed so that he could rest his foot on it, taking the pressure off his knee.

Aramis set about removing Porthos’ boot then pushing up the leg of his breeches to expose the offending knee. Porthos winced at the lightest touch. His knee was badly swollen, and a bruise was forming where he had been kicked. He knew from past experience that he wouldn’t be able to walk on it until well into tomorrow.

“Here.” Athos passed Aramis a cloth-wrapped bundle, and when Aramis pressed it to Porthos’ knee, it was wonderfully col, clearly containing ice.

“Where’d you get this?” Porthos asked, raising an eyebrow at Athos.

“Madame Dubose’s ice cellar.” Athos replied.

“And how in the world did you convince her to give up some of her precious ice?” Aramis asked. Mme Dubose had an excellent ice cellar, but was fiercely protective of the ice it contained.

Athos shrugged, looking almost guilty, “What she doesn’t know…” He leant easily against the wall, watching his two friends. He had the greatest admiration and care for the both of them; they were his brothers in all but blood. He half-smiled as he watched the two of them bicker over some inconsequential issue. Even though he was clearly still in pain, Porthos was grinning his huge grin, telling Aramis what he could do with whatever suggestion he had just made. Aramis looked mortally offended at this proposition, and was returning one of his endless supply of smart insults. The bickering continued, and Athos smiled fully now, sure in the knowledge that his brothers were safe for another day.

Re: FILL: Know Your Scars Like My Own 2/3 PART 3 ABOVE

[(Anonymous)]

I forgot to rename the comment when I posted. Part three is above.

Whole fic is on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2197269/chapters/4813116

Re: FILL: Know Your Scars Like My Own 2/3

[(Anonymous)]

This is so good.