I am only on the first season of The Musketeers and I took the liberty to play around with Athos' background – I'm quite sure that my story does not follow the storyline of the show completely, so if it bothers you, don't read on. Lunar, the horse Athos owns in the beginning of this story, is a Berber horse – if you are not familiar with horse breeds it is one of the forefathers of modern day race horses. I would have liked Lunar to be a thoroughbred but The Musketeers are a bit early for that kind of horse. Enough of rambling from me – enjoy!

This story is written for Brune, who is the real-life version of Athos' new horse. Thank for believing in me and for never giving up – I'm forever grateful.

Part 1.

Summer in Paris was incredible warm. Having grown up in the countryside, in a big house build of stone and therefor always nice and cool in the summertime Athos found Paris hot, stuffy and unwelcoming. Not for the first time he damned the day he arrived here. Like he damned his life and her… and himself. Always himself. In the light of day, he could pretend that nothing had ever happened, could bury himself in his new job as a musketeer, but with the darkness of night came the demons, the memories and worst of all the dream. Always the same. He was back home, she was there. Standing on the wagon, looking at him with her oh so beautiful eyes. And he would wake up, yelling and screaming and feel his heart break all over again. It was as if it never ended – he had run away from everything he had ever known and still, the heat of summertime Paris made him wonder if he had not in fact died at La Fere and had gone to hell.

Athos' chain of thought was interrupted when he found himself at the end of the road. He was not here entirely out of his own free will – Tréville, his captain, had politely informed him that the long-legged Berber horse he had brought with him from home might be a beautiful horse, but also that it was not suitable as a war-horse, and had, with a piercing stare, given him an address in the outskirts of the city where he could go and exchange Lunar for another horse. Athos stopped in front of a building were several horses were tied up. A young groom told him that monsieur Franco would be with him in a minute. Athos placed a hand on Lunar's neck and the horse in return rested his muzzle in the crook of his arm. Lunar had been a present from Anne – or not exactly a present. She had pointed him out and Athos had bought the horse at a ridiculously high price. At the time, it had been worth it. Now he did not even know what the horse meant to him anymore. When he saw Lunar all he saw was Anne and La Fere and Thomas… with an angry shake of his head he stopped his thought. He did not want to go there. Lunar was all that was dear to him - and at the same time all that had betrayed him.

"Musketeer?" A tall man with curly brown hair and a matching beard stood in front of him. Athos quickly straightened up.

"Captain Tréville send me" he said, "I need a horse suited for war-fare".

The man spitted on the ground and nodded before he moved to the side and looked at Lunar.

"Berber?" he then asked and Athos nodded.

"Not worth much for me, but that captain of yours is a good friend so I'll make you an offer"

Athos raised his eyebrows.

"I have just gotten a young stallion in from a stud outside Paris. He has not been handled much but he has a clean bill of health and he has been broken in".

Athos did not know to laugh or cry. Lunar had been the most expensive horse he had ever owned, and now the only thing he could be traded for was a half-wild youngster. Monsieur Franco must have guessed his thoughts, because he explained in a friendlier voice,

"He is not a bad horse Musketeer, give him a chance". He signaled at the groom and the boy disappeared into the stable and came back with a big, black horse. Athos was quite aware that his new life as soldier required another type of horse than the ones he had grown up amongst, but he still had a hard time labelling the Goddamn Friesian horses that Tréville kept telling him were "the only true Musketeer-horses" as beautiful. Especially a young, lanky one like the one the groom now showed him. Athos gave monsieur Franco Lunar's reins and walked around the black horse: He had to admit that Franco was right, the horse was still lanky and skinny, like most youngsters, but his legs were straight and strong and he had a powerful body and a nicely sculptured head. It was not until he was almost done inspecting the stallion he discovered that the horse had a blue eye. Athos halted and stepped closer. He had never seen a horse like that before and turned towards Franco.

"Born like that Musketeer", the man said, "He can see fine".

Athos let his eyes wander back to the horse.

"Look it's fair deal", Franco continued, "I get this fellow", he patted Lunar on the neck, "And you get a horse suited for the kind of life you soldiers live".

He was right, Athos knew he was, and he also knew that he was defeated. Lunar was fast and light-footed but he was not breed to be a warrior's horse – not as this Friesian was.

"All right", he said, trying to overlook the sly grin that grew on Franco's lips, "I'll take the black one, if it cannot be any different".

Franco shifted Lunar's reins to his left hand and offered Athos his right, which he toke and shook. Then Franco signaled the groom and the boy offered Athos the stallion's reins. With a sign, Athos took them and without looking back led his new horse down the street, away from the last part of his old life.

It was not until he was back at the Garrison and Tréville asked him how it had gone that it dawned on him, he did not even know the horse's name.