bbcmusketeerskink

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round 3

Round 3

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.

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No wank
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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.

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

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Free For All Round 1
http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1823.html

Page 66 of 138

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(Richelieu will make his move soon. There's just a couple of things I need to do with Treville first)

"Then it is a great shame that he is dead and you are alive."

When he returned to the garrison, Treville found it had not been the worst conversation he had had with a grief-stricken Louis since Richelieu had died. Although this impression might have mostly been due to the fact that he felt like little could be worse than having to comfort an inconsolable king about the death of your lover only minutes after you learned of his passing.

The king's offer had left Treville stunned, fumbling for words. He had tried playing dumb, pretending not to have understood what was required of him at first – hoping that Louis would for once catch the hidden meaning and drop the matter. But the king had repeated his request, visibly becoming irritated while Treville felt the panic rise and push his heart into his throat.

Treville never had to refuse a request by his king before. There had been times when he had to reveal a flaw in the monarch's thinking, point out a bad idea or an actual falsehood. Of course, every time he would word his objections in a way that only Richelieu – if anyone – could have wrapped more tactfully. But while he was one of the few men ever to disagree with the king and able to get away with it, he had never ever before refused a direct request.

Crossing this line felt unnatural, unsafe. He knew Louis too well to even hope he would be forgiven for his the rejection – especially considering the king's emotional state. Still Treville found himself unable to give in to what he knew to be a disastrous decision.

No doubt Richelieu would have had a couple of choice words for him in private on that matter. But of course, that assumption was part of the realm of imagination now.

Every aspect of Treville's court duties appeared changed without Richelieu. He would still argue, push, but there was no one to push back. It was a funny feeling to miss someone you spent so much time of your day to day life arguing with.

And in this case —maybe Richelieu would even have agreed with Treville: The fact that their talents and perspectives had been so different – complementary – was part of what had drawn them to each other. Each of them less effective without the other. He doubted Richelieu would have enjoyed Treville attempting to take over his field of expertise which could only end with France being driven to ruin.

Then it is a great shame that he is dead and you are alive.

For all that Louis had accused Treville of having cut him to the quick by rejecting the offer; the king had not hesitated to retaliate in kind. Treville had not been able to hide his rejection before the king. But the exact words hurt less than the sentiment of having so utterly failed his monarch. Richelieu had scarce been buried, and now it looked like Louis would be doing without Treville's advice as well. What a way to keep the state Richelieu had sacrificed his health for intact.

Louis had meant to hurt Treville and somehow his aggrieved mind had focused his wits to find the remark that would cut deepest. Yet Treville could not muster the energy to feel indignant about it. Perhaps part of him agreed with the king's assessment.

When they eventually reached the garrison he felt tired. It is with nothing but a grunt that he dismissed his tail of musketeers that had accompanied him on the way back from the palace and stomped up the familiar wooden stairs and slammed his door shut.

Inside his office he took one look at the pile of correspondence waiting for him and considered heading for the attached bed chamber instead. With an annoyed sigh he sat down behind his desk and had only just picked up the first piece of paper when someone knocked at the door.

Would this day never end?

The musketeer who entered hardly had time to address his captain before Treville barked at him: "What is it?"

The musketeer's face turned to a mask of white marble as he answered.

"I bring the register, Captain."

Treville rubbed his eyes and ordered him to leave it on the desk in what he thought was a neutral voice. He reminded himself that it was not the musketeer's fault that he was in a foul mood. Nor could he risk his men picking up on what bothered him. He remembered the musketeer who had followed him during the mass and cursed himself once more for his weakness. Their concern for him would be touching if it weren't so dangerous. As it were, all kinds of comfort that could possibly be offered from that quarter had to remain extremely unwelcome.

Usually Treville would ask the musketeer in charge of the register for a verbal summary of the watch that had just ended, but this evening he dismissed the man immediately.

The musketeer dropped off the book perhaps a tad too hastily and retreated. No doubt the soldier was glad to leave the office of his bad tempered captain behind, even if the stony mien he had put on did not show it.

Treville realised that his churlishness set the men on edge but was unable to help it.

Well, at least the king would avoid calling on him for a while if at all possible.

Treville forced his thoughts back into focus and took up his correspondence again, disgusted by how much of the pile turned out to be the private letters of concerned members of the so called elite who were concerned about the power vacuum left by the cardinal's death, and who would like – in more subtle terms, of course – to know the king's favourite and captain of the musketeers on their side as the new pecking order was decided. Well, much good would that favouritism do them now.

While he sorted the begging letters from those of actual interest he considered turning them into kindling.

By nightfall Treville found himself alone in his private chambers having read and written until his eyes started to strain. The musketeers had made themselves scare all afternoon and he could not help but feel disgusted at himself for it. They had not done anything to deserve Treville taking out his frustrations on them – except daring not to act too distraught over the passing of a man they had had no reason to love.

And worse, said frustrations were unworthy of any Christian.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, shrouding him in the privacy of his bedchamber, the same low sentiments returned his thoughts to the king.

Louis' grief exhausted him. Or rather, wrestling down the burning ice did that stirred in Treville's guts as he had to watch the king fight for composure (and so often fail) – only to receive condolences from courtiers, and comfort from his queen and favourites.

But certainly this at least was going to pass now. The queen had born a healthy son and surely Louis' devastation over Richelieu's death would soon grow more distant at having succeeded in producing an heir to the throne and at the pleasure of watching his child grow up.

Treville unbuckled his weapons and let them drop onto a chair. Finally sitting down on the bed he considered whether it was worth it to take his boots off.

It was often said of a soldier that he could sleep anywhere and it used to be true for Treville. But sleep had turned elusive over the last few days, coming to him only after hours spent chasing circular thoughts.

It had been days even before Richelieu had died since he had last found rest

Treville sighed despite himself. He was a grown man, and a soldier. Loss was far from out of his field of experience, but every loss proved different in its own way. And this time it proved particularly difficult.

Richelieu's illness had progressed fast. It had begun innocently, with the cardinal feeling faint, complaining about cramps and pains. Eventually had come the day he had spent more time in bed than out of it, in the end becoming bed-ridden. Treville had been able to do little more than look on and worry.

Being shooed from the sickbed of his lover at every opportunity had only furthered his frustration. It had been acceptable for him to visit Richelieu under the pretext of having to settle matters concerning their shared duties in service of king and country. But the captain of the king's musketeers could not very well have taken up more time at his side than the cardinal's advisors, his protégées, his doctors and confessor, let alone the king. They had managed to arrange a couple of secret visits as well, unnoticed by anyone who mattered. Having to scuttle and leave through the servant's entry to make room for other people had still smarted. Stubbornly Treville had returned day after day, until eventually Richelieu begun sending him away as well; no doubt to protect them, their secret, and ultimately Treville's life.

He had not even been able to see him that last evening. When he had tried he had been told that Richelieu needed to rest, and no one would be allowed to disturb him expect for the king. The next morning he had been dead.

Treville had been left with a great many things unsaid, including goodbye.

Yet he could not help but wonder if Richelieu had never actually wanted him there in the first place. Surely the cardinal could have found some way for him to be there for him if he had wished to see him during his final days. Or maybe he had been too far gone by then to arrange anything. According to his doctors his eventual passing had been peaceful. But even if it had not Treville doubted they would have told the truth to him or anyone. Anything but an easy passing would have been too unseemly a death to be made public.

He sighed again and rubbed his eyes.

Hell.

He looked into the rough direction of the courtyard in which even at this moment musketeers would be meeting and training. He made sure the door was locked before he tried to settle down and waited for sleep to come.

Yes. Exactly this.

I'm so here for soulmate musketeers who are intimate with each other in every way but sexually. Maybe one of them is asexual, maybe another prefers casual sex and so gets it somewhere else,i don't care - I just want to see nonsexual intimacy. Kissing and cuddling and looking after each other in a way that says more than friends - but sex is not part of it.

Would read.

Athos and Milady are both too drunk to think straight and end up in bed together. Next morning is more than awkward.

Yes, this! I've been looking for a fic like this forever.

Every omega needs an alpha to keep his heats from spinning out of control. They are not necessarily in love, its just a business agreement or so to speak.

Due to a lack of there being not enough alphas in the regiment, Porthos is one of the few alphas who is allowed to take care of Aramis and Athos. One omega per alpha is enough to keep said alpha more than busy but they manage and are content with each other.

But then d'Artagnan joins them and because he's an alpha Treville sees the opportunity to take some strain off of Porthos and orders him to hand over one of his omegas to d'Artagnan. Porthos can't do that, he loves both of his omegas equally but Treville is adamant about it. Porthos can't tell his captain that they are in love, because soldiers should not be distracted by emotions when on the battlefield and he would lose both omegas and not just one should his true feelings be revealed.

So, who does Porthos choose?

He’s still sitting there when fighting breaks out above his head; he looks up wearily as Athos skids into the deck. “d'Artagnan,” he breathes, adding a hasty “Your majesty,” a moment later. He frees Louis first. d'Artagnan doesn’t blame him.

Athos crouches beside him, touching his shoulder gently. “Are you hurt?”

“I can move,” d'Artagnan says, which doesn’t quite answer the question, but it’s what Athos needs to know right now. Athos studies him for a moment before turning to the chains. “The others?”

“On deck. I’m sorry we had to wait. Porthos wanted to storm the ship as soon as Aramis said you were here.”

“I knew you’d wait for dark.”

He doesn’t stretch when the chains come off, and he knows Athos can see the stiffness in his movements, but neither of them comment on it. Athos in front and d'Artagnan behind, they escort Louis up to the deck. d'Artagnan steps around Athos, taking in the bodies of the guards – it looks like a couple of the slaves got a few licks in – and Aramis occupied with unlocking chains.

And Porthos, about to plunge his sword into Domingo’s belly.

“Porthos, stop!”

Porthos pulls the blow just in time, sword biting into the wood by Domingo’s head. Whirling, he glares at d'Artagnan. “What’re you doing?”

“Don’t.” d'Artagnan passes Athos, who makes no effort to stop him, and moves to join Porthos.

“Don’t? After everything he’s done?”

“He was kind when he could be.”

“Kind?” Louis splutters. “He had you beaten!” d'Artagnan more or less ignores him, easing into a crouch next to Domingo. He has to lean against Porthos’ legs to keep from falling over; Porthos is steady, dropping one hand to his shoulder to brace him.

“I take it you’re declining my offer,” Domingo says quietly.

“Yes.”

“Who are you, Charles?”

d'Artagnan glances back at Athos and Louis. “I’m d'Artagnan of the King’s Musketeers, senor. You should retire. There’ll be far fewer slaves passing through your hands from now on.”

“King’s Musketeers,” Domingo repeats.

“My king ordered my protection of that man. I would never have served you as I did him.” He stands, feeling Porthos move in unobtrusively to support him.

Porthos shifts slightly, looking at d'Artagnan’s back. “Five blows, d'Artagnan?”

“Five.”

Porthos grins at Domingo, then efficiently kicks him five times. The last blow is strong enough that d'Artagnan suspects he’s broken ribs. Porthos crouches next to him. “I’d kill you without a thought if he hadn’t spoken for you. Remember that. Remember who saved your life.”

Aramis has the slaves freed and huddled together by the railing. Athos looks over the group with a sigh; d'Artagnan comes back to join him, oddly light headed now that everything’s over. “Where are we?”

“About half a day from the border. We’ll have to move quickly. There are Musketeers waiting on the border but they can’t cross into Spain.”

“You’re here,” d'Artagnan points out.

“Temporary leave of absence.”

“I’m on holidays,” Aramis agrees, joining them.

“And I’m sick.” Porthos coughs, unconvincingly.

d'Artagnan smiles faintly. “Of course you are. Should we…”

He takes one step, hesitates, and collapses. The world around him vanishes into a dark haze.

He’s leaning forward slightly, arms around someone and bouncing lightly up and down. When he shifts, someone touches his hands. “Don’t.”

Porthos. “What’s…”

“We’re almost at the border. How’re you feeling?”

“Thirsty.”

Porthos is silent for a moment. “Can you manage without stopping?”

d'Artagnan considers. “I think so?”

“Keep a hand on me.” Porthos passes back a water skin.

Tipping his head back to drink stretches his back painfully, but the water is worth it. He remembers to drink slowly, and it’s several minutes before he passes the ‘skin back, leaning back carefully.

“What’s been happening?” he asks, doing his best to look around.

“Nothing much. Louis’s riding with Aramis. Half those slaves were Spanish; they’ve mostly made a run for it, taking their chances. We’ll be at the border soon.” He’s silent for a moment. “Aramis examined you.”

“I’m just bruised. It’s nothing much.”

“And half starved. Were you giving all your food to Louis?”

“He’s the king,” d'Artagnan murmurs. “He has to survive.”

Porthos snorts. “Athos is gonna have something to say about that.”

“Something to look forward to.” d'Artagnan shifts uncomfortably.

“Lean forward,” Porthos murmurs.

“What?”

“Lean forward and let me take your weight. It won’t hurt so bad.”

“It’s too far to lean on you…”

“d'Artagnan, you could lean on me all the way back to Paris and it wouldn’t bother me. Come on. Forward.”

d'Artagnan’s too tired to argue; he leans forward, letting his weight fall on Porthos, who doesn’t seem affected at all. His back eases almost at once and he relaxes.

“There you go,” Porthos murmurs. “Not long now, we’ll be in France.”

“How’s Louis?” d'Artagnan mumbles.

“Quiet.”

“Sorry.”

“Not you, him. He’s been very quiet.”

“Oh. Yes.”

Athos pulls up beside them, glancing at d'Artagnan. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Is something wrong?”

“No. We’re almost to the border. We can rest there. d'Artagnan, do you think the galley master will send anyone after us?”

“I don’t think he has anyone. Just the men on the ship. By the time he tells anyone in authority…I think he’ll just give up. He was retiring anyway.”

“What was the offer?” Porthos asks.

“What?”

“You declined his offer.”

“Oh.” d'Artagnan shifts slightly, aware that Athos is still listening. “Just before you reached the ship, Domingo offered to allow me to return Louis to France if I would swear to return and serve as his guard afterwards.”

“He thought you’d betray your oath to the Musketeers?”

“He didn’t know I’m a Musketeer, he didn’t know who Louis is, he just knew I’d do anything I had to to keep him safe.” He shifts again. Leaning forward is helping, but not quite enough. “He was intrigued by my – my honour. I don’t think he meets many people he can trust.”

Athos leans over to still his movements; d'Artagnan grimaces, holding still with an effort. “Only a few more minutes,” Athos promises softly. d'Artagnan nods, lips pressed tightly together. Porthos is steady beneath him.

Athos stays beside them until half a dozen Musketeers surround them; then he pulls away slightly to talk to Sebastian, the team leader. d'Artagnan listens hazily as they talk for a few minutes, and then they’re being led to the temporary camp the Musketeers have set up while two of the younger men go to do what they can to hide their back trail.

Aramis comes to help d'Artagnan down from the horse; it’s an embarrassingly long time before he can make his legs hold him, but Aramis just braces him until he’s ready. “Come on,” he says, when d'Artagnan is finally steady. “Sebastian’s men have food and there’s pallets set up. I want to get a look at you.”

“I’m not hungry,” d'Artagnan mutters without much hope.

“I don’t care; you’re eating something.”

d'Artagnan hesitates, looking around. “Where’s Louis?”

“He’s right there,” Aramis assures him, gesturing. d'Artagnan follows the gesture and sees Louis sitting beside the fire, staring at it. “The pallets are right there, you can keep an eye on him.”

d'Artagnan grimaces. “I’m sorry, I trust you, it’s just…”

“It’s perfectly normal,” Porthos assures him, coming up on his other side. “You’ve been watching him for a while now. It takes a while to turn off.”

“How long?” d'Artagnan asks, realising suddenly that he has no idea how long they’ve been gone for.

Porthos looks at Aramis behind his head. “A little over four weeks.”

“And how much of that time did you spend in a random port town in Spain?”

“Not random,” Aramis protests, looking vaguely hurt. “The galleys often stop there to reload.”

“How long?”

“Most of it,” Porthos says cheerfully.

“Four weeks,” d'Artagnan murmurs. “How has the Court explained that?”

“King Louis is sadly very ill,” Aramis explains, crouching to help him sit on one of the pallets. “He’s in quarantine and being seen by only a couple of trusted servants, to prevent infection. There are vigils and prayer services all over Paris, it’s really very heartwarming. Lift your face, d'Artagnan, I want to look at that bruise on your cheek.”

d'Artagnan blinks; he'd forgotten about that one. “How does – who’s in charge at Court?”

“Not like Louis does much when he’s there,” Porthos points out.

“No, but he’s there. Who’s there now?”

“Mostly Rochefort. The Queen’s keeping him on a tight lead; she trusts Treville far more than Louis does right now. Between them they’re doing pretty ok.”

“I’m sorry,” d'Artagnan murmurs. “I tried, I really did, I just – there was no way to get away from them.”

Aramis glances at Porthos again before saying briskly “Lean forward.” d'Artagnan obeys numbly, flinching at the light touches on his back. Porthos vanishes somewhere. Aramis continues his examination, murmuring instructions for d'Artagnan to move or turn or bend and tell him how it feels.

Athos crouches in front of him, looking past him at Aramis. “Well?”

“Nothing is broken, and I don’t believe there’s any damage inside, but he’s very badly bruised. We should let him rest for a while.”

“Did rest,” d'Artagnan mumbles. “I was resting when you saw me.”

“Sewing?” Aramis shifts into his eyeline. “That was resting?”

d'Artagnan nods. “Domingo set us sewing so that I wouldn’t have to sit on the benches and row. I told you. He was kind when he could be.”

“You were on the benches when I found you,” Athos reminds him.

“On the floor, so I could lean. Punishment for talking to Aramis.”

Aramis flinches. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. Worth it.” He glances over to check on Louis.

“d'Artagnan,” Athos says softly, “I’m sorry it took us so long to find you.”

“I’m sorry you had to find us at all. I tried, Athos, I promise. There was never a chance to get us both away, and I couldn’t leave Louis behind.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Athos agrees. d'Artagnan is vaguely aware that Aramis has withdrawn, leaving them alone. “d'Artagnan, there’s no blame for you here. You did as well as anyone could have, better than most. Louis is uninjured and he tells us that’s down to you, that you took this beating to spare him.”

“Couldn’t let him be hurt.” d'Artagnan’s starting to drift again.

“Don’t sleep yet, d'Artagnan,” Athos says firmly.

“Tired, Athos.”

“I know. Aramis is making you a draught. You can sleep when you’ve had it. Stay awake a little longer.”

“Oh…” d'Artagnan forces himself awake again, looking up to meet Athos’ eyes, sitting up to make sure he’s listening. “Athos, at the camp, in the mountains, the first night…”

“We found it. It was empty, though, cleared out.”

d'Artagnan nods quickly. “Doesn’t matter. Athos, Milady was there.”

Athos goes very still, but he doesn’t look away. “You’re certain?”

“I spoke with her. She knew who we were, she protected Louis when LeMaitre realised he was nobility. I don’t know where she went, though, she wasn’t there when we were taken away in the morning.”

“Rather a step down for Anne,” Athos murmurs.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be foolish. My wife’s career choices are hardly your doing.” His voice is brusque, but his hands are gentle, easing d'Artagnan back to lie down again.

d'Artagnan sighs, reaching for Athos’ hand and holding on, grounding himself in the touch. Athos sits silent beside him until Aramis returns with the draught.

“This will help with the pain and stiffness,” he says, kneeling beside d'Artagnan. “It’ll make you tired, though.”

“Already tired,” d'Artagnan complains.

“I’m sure you are,” Aramis agrees. “Sit up a little, if you can.”

Athos helps, getting an arm around his shoulder without touching the bruising, and d'Artagnan swallows the draught without complaint. “Don’t want to hold us up,” he murmurs.

“Sebastian has a cart,” Athos assures him. “It will be uncomfortable, but we have to move. Louis must return to Paris as quickly as possible.”

“Uncomfortable’s fine.” d'Artagnan looks past them again.

“Porthos is sitting with Louis,” Aramis says quietly. “He won’t go anywhere. It’s safe; you can sleep.”

d'Artagnan nods dreamily, still holding on to Athos’ hands, and lets himself drift.

I'm writing you something for this! But you might have to be patient as I have two other stories on the go at the same time.

Warnings : homophobia, not sure if I need to warn for this prompt, but erring on side of caution.

Athos has let it be known that he is willing to lie about the events of 'that night' at the monastery, stating that he will say that Aramis was with him at all times and never left his side. Aramis is understandably grateful.
However when the time comes, Athos describes the situation to sound like he was WITH Aramis and they were 'together' the whole night. Athos is confused at the stunned silence his report has gained and the WTF face that Aramis is throwing him. Realising his interpretation has gone down differently than he imagined he gives Aramis a silent 'go with it' look (safer for the Queen for them to get hanged for this than treason) The silence is broken though with the King's delighted exultation, he thinks this is wonderful that two of his brave soldiers have found love. Giving them his blessing they are all dismissed.
Athos and Aramis now face the scrutiny of everyone and have to make believe they are in a serious relationship.

-- keep it an epic bromance if you like, or turn it into a friends-to-lovers romance of legend. Take it to ridiculous levels where the King decrees all same sex relationships to be legal (he has is eyes on d'Artagnan) possibly buys them a house (but only of they get married) -- complete crack

o.O so much blushing, don't even know what to say

/flattered beyond words

If someone else has been bitten by this bug they should go ahead... I will check back when I'm done with my other fics and if no one has picked it up I'll see what I can do... sound good?

Haha the King reacting like that would be hilarious. I can imagine Athos' 'I thought you were going to kill us...now I have to pretend to be in love with a Aramis?!' face.

This was so nice to read! I love all the creative uses of the scarf ... and I love in the last one that he'll actually have to be CAREFUL not to move too much - that makes it work even better than originally intended, I think! :D

I needed to read this. The ending of that episode fucked me up.

AN Don`t worry OP, d`Art wont be just going straight back to Paris with them, thats gonna take a while.

Fill

D`Artaganan sobbed raggedly into Athos`s doublet, ignoring the pride in him that was screaming for him to fight the other man off, to run, to do anything but allow Athos to hold and comfort him.

But he resisted it, letting himself be enveloped in that warm protective embracem let Athos take his full weight against his chest, and start stroking his hair, rocking him slowly backwards and forwards as one would a distressed child.

The words Athos was saying were a dim drone buzzing in d`Artagnan`s ears, his whole mind focused souly on the rocking motion and the soothing warmth of Athos holding him and making him feel safe and loved.

For the longest time Athos held d`Artagnan, letting him sob out his hurt and anger, stroking his hair and whispering sweet nothings to him as he rocked him gently, reminded slightly of doing the same to Thomas when they had been children, and Thomas had fallen from a tree during one of their games.

He had been unhurt save for grazing his knees and hands but as four year old he`d only been able to express the feeling with tears and had broken into anguished sobs, Olivier had taken his little brother into his arms as he had seen their nurse do, and began to rock him back and forth, kissing his head and telling him that everything was going to be fine.

Sure enough, after a while, Thomas had stopped crying, and had fallen asleep against Oliviers chest, exhausted by his tears and shock, he had slept, snug in his brothers arms for nearly and hour, before their nurse had come looking for them, to take them inside for baths and supper.

Just as had happened with Thomas, d`Artagnan slowly stopped crying save for the random gasps and sniffles against Athos chest, as his fatigue caught up with him, and he fell asleep against Athos, curled right up into the older mans arms like a puppy against a bitch.

Athos could`nt prevent the soppy smile that broke out on his face as he gazed down at d`Artagnan, his hand smoothing the boys hair back from his face and placed a gentle kiss onto his temple, feeling slightly guilty about the thought of d`Artagnan asleep on his chest after activies more pleasent than crying and fighting!

"Hey?", came Porthos voice, making Athos turn his head and raise a finger to his lips as Aramis and Porthos came in
"He finally let it out then?" Aramis whispered looking down at d`Artagnan, his puffy red eyes and damp cheeks showing he`d been crying "About time he broke, he start to heal now"
"You think it`ll be that simple?" Porthos whispered frowning "I don`t think a few tears will solve everything that easily"
"No" Aramis agreed "But, it`ll give him a start to let his heart and mind heal now, let us start to try and make amends"
"You really think we can?" Athos asked stroking d`Artagnan`s cheek
"We have to try" Aramis said with a shrug "We owe him that much at the very least", Athos nodded continuing to stroke d`Artagnan`s cheek an action that was not lost on Aramis and Porthos, the two of them exchanging a glance and silently comunicating with a nod and a wink, Porthos heading off out of the barn Aramis giving Athos a smile
"Why don`t you get him to bed and stay with him?, he needs the rest and then you two should talk",
"What are you two going to do?" Athos asked as Aramis backed away
"Oh you know, this and that!" Aramis said holding his arms wide "Learn how to milk a cow! fix a roof!, feed hens!".

Shaking his head in amusment Athos pressed a kiss to d`Artagnan`s forehead and gently lifted him bridal style, d`Artagnan stirring and murmering slightly but not waking as Athos carried from the barn to the house.

Laying him down on the cot bed, Athos wrapped his precious charge in the thin blankets he found there and added his own cloak over d`Artagnan`s body, sitting himself down beside him prepared for a long wait while d`Artagnan slept.

With his body so exhausted, d`Artagnan did`nt awaken until that night, sleeping for nearly twelve hours straight, and awakening to the smell of something delicious cooking, soft conversation coming from the kitchen, and a smell of tobbaco.

Blinking and rubbing his eyes d`Artagnan sat up with a groan, alerting Athos who was still sat beside his cot, smoking his pipe,
"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked taking his pipe out of his mouth and smiling at d`Artagnan, the purple/blue bruise on his jaw making d`Artagnan wince
"How`s your face?" he asked back sitting up a bit more and drawing his knees up to his chest
"It`s survived worse" Athos replied touching his jaw and giving a wry smile "You`re fist hurt alot less than a torch!"
"Guess theres that!" d`Artagnan said with a snort, offering a shaky smile, seeing Athos tapping his fingers against his pipe bowl, "You can go ahead and smoke, I like the smell of tobacco"
"Like the smell but not the taste right?" Athos replied smiling wider now recalling the one and only time d`Artagnan had tried to smoke, resulting in him choking and swearing off tobacco for life!,
"I think I`ll pass!" d`Artagnan said with a blush, wondering how in the hell watching Athos lift his pipe to his mouth and hold it between his teeth was so damn erotic!, perhaps it was because the smoke just added to the smokey intensity that Athos seemed to exude without even trying!.

Blinking rapidly when he realised he was staring, d`Artagnan cleared his throat, "So, where do we go from here?" he asked resting his chin on his knees "What happens now?"
"That depends on you" Athos replied "It`s up to you, what happens, what you want"
"I don`t know what I want" d`Artagnan whispered feeling a lump in his throat, and swallowed hard, not wanting to start crying again, God had he ever cried so much in his life before!?
"Do you want to come back to the Musketeers?" Athos asked
"Yes" d`Artagnan said shaking his head with a deep sigh "I do want to, but I.............how can I trust you again?, any of you?", letting out a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a groan, d`Artagnan got up from the bed to pace the room before turning back to Athos and folding his arms across his chest
"I trusted you with my life, completely" he said looking Athos directly in the eye "I knew in my heart, no matter what, you would always be there, find a way to help me, stand by me"
"Until I did`nt!" Athos dead panned nodding his head "I let you down, in every way possible"
"Not just you" d`Artagnan said bitterly "Aramis, Porthos, Treville!, all of you!, you turned on me in a moment!, and it took me getting nearly beaten to death for you to believe me!"
"I know" Athos whispered "And if I could turn back time I would change that, I promise you"
"That all you`d change?" d`Artagnan asked lifting an eyebrow "Not, change marrying the bitch from hell!!!!?"
"Maybe that too!" Athos chuckled getting to his feet "Look I can`t turn the clock back, I can`t change what happened, but if you give me a chance, give all of us a chance, then we will try to make things up to you, make things better".

Pressing his lips together and looking down at the ground, fighting the urge that coiled in his gut to just throw himself into Athos arms, d`Artagnan looked up "You really think you can?" he whispered sounding like he wanted to be hopeful
"We can try" Athos offered "I`m not saying just forgive us out right, I`m saying let us work for your forgiveness, let us try to regain your trust"
"And if I do?" d`Artagnan whispered
"If you do" Athos said crossing the room and taking d`Artagnan`s hand into his and squeezing it gently "If you do, then I swear on my Brothers soul, that we will Never let you down again".

Taking a deep shuddering breath d`Artagnan nodded once, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbling it as Athos smiled squeezing his hand again
"Thankyou" he said and on impulse leaned forward placing a chaste kiss on d`Artagnan`s cheek!.

The kiss was over in a moment, and it was hard to tell which of the two men was more shocked!, however the spell was broken by Aramis poking his head about the door and holding out a white cloth as a flag of truce!
"If we can declare a cease fire, then dinner his ready!" he said offering a smile "Porthos got fresh bread from town, and some peach flans for afters, and I`ve made the most increadible smelling and tasting lamb stew in the whole world!"
"Modest ar`nt you!?" Athos said sharing a wry grin with d`Artagnan
"No!" Aramis admitted dropping the arm that held the cloth "But I`m a damn good cook, and if you don`t get your arses in the kitchen me and Porthos will eat the lot!", shooting them another grin Aramis disappeared from the door way leaving Athos and d`Artagnan in a slightly awkward silence.

"So...." d`Artagnan said biting his bottom lip and twisting his foot on the ground
"Indeed" Athos said clearing his throat "I guess we should.......", he beckoned to the door way towards the kitchen
"Right" d`Artagnan agreed "But..........do we.............should we....?"
"Talk later?" Athos said his cheeks colouring "Definately!".

Perfect thankyou Kyele

AU

What if d`Artagnan was formally betrothed to the brute Martin Lebarge?.

What if his Fathers death did`nt change anything and he was still contracted to wed Lebarge even though he`s in love with Athos, and everyone who sees Lebarge knows he`s going to be forced into a life of brutality and misery.

Athos, Porthos and Aramis ar`nt just going to let this marriage go ahead, nore is Treville and the rest of the Musketeers, but how can they prevent the marriage?, can Athos find a way to save d`Artagnan or will the Gascon who has healed his heart be taken from him by a man who is more Monster than human?.

Protective Musketeers

Fatherly Treville

Portamis

Athos/d`Artagnan

Porthos seems like the happiest and most emotionally stable of the four but I don't think he gets taken care of enough. I wanna see porthos being weak and being vulnerable and leaning on his friends and being comforted and encouraged and reassured by the others.

D'Artagnan has been injured in battle and is recovering in bed at the Garrison. Constance sneaks away from the Palace as often as she can to be with him but is frustrated by the fact that Athos especially seems to be overly attentive towards d'Artagnan - more than is nessacary for a mere 'friend' - and she rarely gets to be alone with him as a result..

The result is growing tensions between them, until they realise that neither of them is a threat to the other when it comes to their love for d'Artagnan because they provide him with different kinds of romantic and sexual love.

This fic can be serious or funny, sex based or gen, writers choice.

Oooh! This is becoming more and more telnovela-worthy. :D
I LOVE it. Just discovered this epic story last night and I've enjoyed it SO MUCH.
I especially loved the angsty first part, Dupis' not-so-clever-after-all ploy, and how you built his fall, that was all so thrilling. The first scene made my heart ache for hurt d'Artagnan but I trully fell for your story with the second part, where you show their easy friendship, joking and all the trust that is to be shattered. It created such a chilling contrast for what was to come!
Athos breaking down over d'Artagnan's unconscious body was perhaps a bit touching (aspecially after that reading-poems-scene) but actually quite hilarious, to see his compose gone with the wind. Still, not as hilarious as the mental image of him trying to milk a cow. :D
I love how regular (and long!) you keep the updates and I can't wait to see what happens next - it's been such an emotional roller coaster so far! I'm really glad you decided to write this story and share it! You have such a distinct way of storytelling. ;)

Oh, yes, exactly! Seconded!

Yay, you did post an update as promised!
You picture the tormented soul so well. It was sad, but beautiful! I imagine you'll have to torture him a bit more but I can't wait for him to learn he's greaving for someone who is still alive. Somehow, I don't think his first emotion will be relief. :D I'm already imagining possible 'reveal' scenes and I cannot wait to read your take. Will be looking out for the next update! :)

This is absolutely beautiful!
I loved the first part, but I had no idea what a story will come in the next three parts! ♥ It's been so gripping, I was holding my breath, so much suspense! I admire your characters - they are so beliveable and the Musketeers and the King are all so much in character, just how I imagine they would react! The offer made to d'Artagnan was wrecking, I still have no idea how he would have decided had the Inseparabled not showed up.
Anyway, thank you so much for the story, I enjoy it very, very much - you mix all the emotions so well and it's not just about the main king-saving goal, you let hints drop here and there - I cherish all those little moments d'Artagnan shares with Athos, and I can't wait to see what Milady has up her sleeve! Brilliant job, hope to see an update SOON! Please? :)

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Page 66 of 138

Round 3

Fill: Cold Comfort 2/?

Re: Modern AU - ill Aramis

OT4 platonic life partners/ asexual musketeer

Re: OT4 platonic life partners/ asexual musketeer

Athos/Milady, drunken sex, awkward morning after

Re: OT4 platonic life partners/ asexual musketeer

a/b/o, Porthos/Aramis/Athos, jealousy, forced bonding

Fill: Dreams unto an Exile (TW: Slavery, violence) 4/?

Re: Isabelle didn't want to be a mother...

I now pronounce you Athos and Aramis ...

Re: Musketeers/Titanic crossover Aramis/Porthos Athos/D`Artagnan

Re: OP Musketeers/Titanic crossover Aramis/Porthos Athos/D`Artagnan

Re: I now pronounce you Athos and Aramis ...

Re: FILL: Five times the Musketeers found usages for Athos' Scarf

Re: Fill: d'Artagnan hurt/comfort OT4/Brot4

Fill Before you point your finger 27

Fill Before you point your finger 28

: OP Musketeers/Titanic crossover Aramis/Porthos Athos/D`Artagnan

D`Artagnan/Lebarge D`Artagnan/Athos TW Forced marriage, abuse, possible sexual violence

Musketeers taking care of porthos

Athos and Constance 'fight' over caring for injured d'Artagnan - d'Art / Athos, d'Art / Constance

Re: Fill Before you point your finger 28

Re: I now pronounce you Athos and Aramis ...

Re: Fill: Cold Comfort 2/?

Re: Fill: Dreams unto an Exile (TW: Slavery, violence) 4/?