[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.

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?"

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."

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.
From: (Anonymous)
::beams:: Thank you!

Sorry it's taken a while to continue. I wrote myself into a hole a few chapters on and had to thrash my way out of it.

Mother hen is very apt. :D
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.
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you so much. Glad you're enjoying.

From: (Anonymous)
The plot thickens! I want to lock all the doors against the bad guys. Be careful, Musketeers!
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you so much for reading and commenting.

Trouble is afoot. :)
From: (Anonymous)
What a brilliant read! Absolutely loving it. Excellent characterisation and just the best hurt before comfort.
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you so very much for the lovely comment. :)

From: (Anonymous)
Poor Athos. At least he has his friends to look after him.
From: (Anonymous)
He is a very poor Athos indeed. :( Thank you for reading and commenting. :)


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.

From: (Anonymous)
Oh, poor Athos! I just love the fact that you are having him just put on Stoic Face and wait it out. I love the crazy love from Aramis and Porthos and Treville. O, Treville has been freaking awesome in this! And the little glimmer of OT3 hope on the horizon? I dig it.

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

Date: 2014-05-29 03:44 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"I've seen neither Porthos nor Aramis for days," says Athos as he rests back in the chair.

"Keep still, man. This is hard enough to manage without you talking at the same time. I'm no barber." Treville leans over him, brushing off the trimmings of beard that have been cut away then lathering up Athos's face. He wields the cut-throat in his hand. "Do you want your nose to remain in one piece?"

"You don't have to do it."

"I'm sick and tired of talking to that forest of hair when I come to visit." Treville smiles; it's mellow with warmth and just for Athos -- a league away from their working relationship as captain and lieutenant. "Besides, I like to look after you."

He's barely spent a night away from Athos's side except when he's been called away on soldiering business. Constance has brought in an old armchair so that he can rest more easily and he has his own set of blankets. She laughs merrily and calls him Mother Hen.

Athos takes a swig of that ever present brandy when it dawns on him that he must, eventually, be left to his own devices.

"Enough of that." Treville steals the bottle from his hand and leans in, once again, to glide the razor across Athos's skin, stripping away the excess hair and washing the instrument clean in a bowl of warm water. "I vowed to look after you until you were better and so I will." He pauses, blade raised symbolically. "I also promised you justice. Vallion has gone to ground for now, but he will surface soon and Porthos and Aramis are on his trail."

Athos's eyes widen with concern for his friends.

"They'll be safe," says Treville, understanding without need for words. He shapes the beard with careful strokes of the cut-throat. "They have a dozen good men with them and they’ll report back here before taking any action. I won't risk their safety after what happened to you."

Athos is grateful for every care Treville shows and every kind act he does; he'll be forever in his debt. Wiping his face clean with a damp towel he strokes a palm over the neat beard and smooth skin and feels almost human again.

"Now to your wounds," says Treville. "Lie on the bed so I can see to the ones on your back."

Athos does as he's told with no fear in his heart at being in such a vulnerable position with another man. It's taken a while for his anxiety to subside, even with the captain.

"These are healing up nicely," says Treville as he rubs the salve in. "How are your other parts?"

Athos smirks at the captain's unexpected delicacy over this matter. It's been three weeks and he is, as far as he can tell, back to normal. "Well," he answers truthfully.

"I believe then, my lad, it's time for you to get back to the training yard," says Treville, "We can't have you lazing about forever."

"Not yet." Several times Athos has looked at the outside world from his window and sees the city as he never did before: dirty and full of danger with rottenness at its core.

"Aramis and Porthos returned from duty this morning," says Treville. "Surely you trust them enough to get you back to fitness?"

Athos says nothing. How can he tell his commander that he's too frightened to make the short journey from home to the garrison?


Dressed in civilian clothes and carrying a shopping basket Athos scowls at the world and everyone in it. At least he can content himself with the comforting rattle of weapons strapped to his person.

"Take that miserable look off your face," says Constance, deliberately bashing into him with her own basket of goods. "Just some vegetables to buy and then we're done for the day."

She and Treville are in cahoots. It's the only explanation. Why else would he be dragged around Paris, acting as packhorse for his landlady who appears to have no concern at all for his welfare?

"There, that's it," she says as she loads pounds of beans and potatoes into Athos's already overladen basket and they trudge back to the house, avoiding the filth that's streaming down the middle of the road.

Apparently, he's not off the hook yet. Woman's work, he thinks with a disgruntled sigh as he sits at the kitchen table, peeling the vegetables badly with a paring knife, ready to go into the pot.

"Drat!" exclaims Constance as she wipes her hands dry on her apron. "I forgot the neck of mutton. Be a dear and go and get some from the butchers for me. Bonacieux will have my guts for garters if I don't get these garments finished."

The world is conspiring against him, thinks Athos darkly as, once again, he leaves for the market.


When Athos first puts on his uniform after a month in civvies it feels ill fitting and wrong. Taking several deep gulps of wine he straps on weapons and accoutrements and finally tops it off with his hat -- a new one made to the same design as his old which had been lost that day.

That day. Sometimes it feels as if nothing before then even existed: not his noble upbringing nor the dreaded hanging of his wife. Nor either the Musketeer regiment with its camaraderie and moral compass that guides him through life.

"Here's our Athos," says Constance, a wide smile on her face as she watches, hands on hips, as he clanks and creaks his way down the stairs. "I haven't seen you in a while, Monsieur."

"Am I ready for this?" he asks as if she's his oracle and not just his friend.

"You are," she says simply, reaching up to kiss him on both cheeks then stripping the bottle of wine from his hand. "But you'll not be needing this."

He completes the short walk in record time, wanting to be free of the city streets, but realises what a mistake this was when he steps through the garrison threshold and into a world that seems alien. Not long ago this was his place of contentment.

Looking to his left he sees Aramis and Porthos sparring with each other and a swift glance upward reveals Treville, who's leaning on the rail and surveying all from the walkway. These sights relax him a little and he's almost back to his old, less than friendly self when he’s surrounded by a host of familiar faces who greet him with joy, thankful for his safe return.

"Athos, good to have you back," says Porthos, handing him his training jacket. "Ready to be put through your paces? We'll go easy on you for the first ten minutes."

"Well, five at least," says Aramis with a grin and, sword in hand, he waits as Athos takes off his doublet and straps on the padded jerkin.

He's happy fighting with the rapier. True to his word Aramis works him hard, but swordsmanship is a long learned skill that's not easily forgotten and his only problem is a distinct lack of energy. The hand to hand combat is another matter entirely. It might be Porthos barrelling towards him, but every so often Athos's eyes deceive him and he's left crawling backwards, frozen in fear with Porthos quietly reassuring him that everything is fine.

"Back to work," orders Treville when the breaks in between sparring sessions grow too long.

By the time the day has ended Athos is suffering from exhaustion and aching all over. Aramis, never a one to hold back, is furious with his commander and is treated to a private dressing down for his outspoken behaviour. Athos doesn't know what passed between them, nor does he wish to find out. What he does know is that the next few days of training are equally as hard going and Aramis no longer has any word of complaint.


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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