Notes:

I don't own The Musketeers. If only I did.

Title taken from A.E Housman V11

i. Athos

Athos's heart is full of sadness. He dared to allow hope into his heart and now that hope is sailing away to a new country, a new life and he has given it all up for his true love, duty. Through melancholy and anger, through drunkenness and raging hangovers Athos has worked through it, fought through it, fought against it all for duty, all for the Musketeers, all for France. He could not, would not forsake duty, not for love, not for his own happiness, not for Anne's happiness. He has become a master at working despite anguish and as they ride to the monastery he bit by bit puts his pain aside as he plans and forms strategies.

He would be lying if didn't admit to himself that part of him relished they idea of war. He knows all too well the horrors of war but he has yet to meet a soldier who didn't feel the exhilaration a war could bring, who did not love the rush of battle, the feeling of being so alive when death could come with the next sword strike. Aramis is one such solider, a man once made a shell by death and yet who craves the dangers of battle, a soldier who becomes so alive in the midst of clashing steel and musket fire that he almost radiates on the battle field.

Athos is terrified of being captain, of being responsible for others. Aramis is a great strategist. He understands the men and they all respect him. And for a man who talks so much he has a great capacity to listen. In the dark hours of drunkenness Athos would ramble on but only to Aramis who would listen without judgement and never once remind Athos of his words in the cold light of day. Aramis is his friend, his brother and his confessor. And Athos cannot imagine going to war without him at his side.

ii. Porthos

Since Aramis left, Porthos, despite his best efforts to remain cheery, has sunk further and further into a misery. He understands Aramis's reasons why. Aramis made a deal with god and while Porthos isn't a religious man he accepts Aramis's faith, his belief. He can't imagine what it feels like to have a son he will never hold, to see another man raise that child but he knows that for all his bravado and light-heartedness Aramis feels intensely, that he is a man of emotions and the pain of having fathered the Queen's son hurt him desperately. Porthos can see how out of sight, out of mind may have influenced Aramis's decision but he misses him, god how he misses him. He misses his friend, his confident, his family. He misses Aramis smile, he misses the poetic turn of phrase that Porthos often teased him about but loved to hear whispered into his ear on nights when they found themselves in bed together. They never spoke of what they had but it was theirs and it worked and Porthos loved Aramis with all his heart. He loved him as brother, as a friend, as a lover. And Porthos cannot imagine spending the rest of his life without him at his side.

iii. d'Artagnan:

d'Artagnan can only be described as hyper as they ride to Aramis. He has been like this for days, full of love and anticipation. They are all delighted for his marriage. Constance is a remarkable, courageous woman full of fire and strength. D'Artagnan loves her independence, her fight and they are perfectly matched for he would never dream of stifling her, of making her conform. He is so full of love and happiness, almost blinded with it, that he hasn't even thought to think of missing her yet but Porthos and Athos know there will be lonely nights ahead and that wars can take people from home for longer than they ever imagined. He is buzzing with excitement about going to war. He has taken to soldering as though he was born to it. He has fought in many skirmishes and battles but he has yet to experience war. For all its excitements it is grim and it is dirty and a fight on the streets of Paris with a hot dinner and warm bed at the end of it is a far cry from endless nights sleeping in an open field filthy. He may love battle but he hates being dirty and Aramis curses up at storm when he goes without bathing. Raised on the streets Porthos can sleep anywhere, eat anything but he has grown accustomed to good food and can talk about it endlessly. They will all be salivating by the time he finishes his lament for Serge's stew. No better solider, Athos won't complain but twenty odd years spent sleeping in a bed crafted for nobility has left him unable to get comfortable on rough ground and they will all notice the awkward way he twists his neck on raising or how he will pull his shoulders back throughout the day to relieve the tension left from hard ground. d'Artagnan has much to learn. While Athos is his mentor, Aramis is his advisor. d'Artagnan can speak freely with him and misses his easy ways, his comradery, his buoyant spirit. If he had known he was going to leave them he would have has the wedding earlier, he missed him at the ceremony.

He doesn't really understand why they let him go. Porthos is miserable and Athos misses him. They could have talked him out of it, should have talked him out of it. He as good as told Treville that who just looked at him fondly and said "Aramis deserves some peace". But it wasn't peace Aramis had gone to find it was punishment or at least sacrifice. Despite a new wife and the eminent thrill of war d'Artagnan misses his friend and brother. And he cannot imagine spending much more time without him.

iv. Aramis

He rode to the monastery full of sorrow and trepidation. He believed in god. He had made a vow to that god, one that he would honour. His faith was strong but he didn't know if he was. He liked the finer things in life. His uniform was made from material far beyond what he could afford. He had saved for months to buy the soft leather for his doublet and commissioned an elite tailor to make the garment. He preferred to relax into an expensive bottle of wine than spend his coin on cheap ale. He developed a taste for chocolate from a comtesse he once bedded and on occasion he liked to splurge on a piece. These things he thought he could live without. He once thought he would live a simple life. He could do that now, he hoped. His biggest hurdle was his need for human touch. He craved it. He needed to bury himself in a warm body, to lose himself in cries of ecstasy. He loved the feel of a woman under him, on top of him, against him in all manner of positions. He needed them, he needed it, he needed release, he needed to be needed and clung to, feel nails scrape his back as two bodies become one and god give him strength he did not know how he could live without it.

And Porthos, good lord how was he to survive without his touch, the only person he could summit to, the only person who could ravish him and salve him. Porthos's strength burned a fire through Aramis. He let Aramis lose control, would shush him when he fell to pieces and gently hold him in his arms when both were spent. Aramis needed to be needed, he wanted to rescue, to protect and save but Porthos was the only one who understand that deep down it was Aramis who needed to be protected and Porthos gladly gave that protection without judgement. Dear god how was he to cope when he would be forbidden from even taking himself in his own hand?

The monks are kind to him on his first night. They explain to him he cannot be a monk for at least a year, that he will study the bible and pray and reflect and learn the meaning of sacrifice. He exchanges his uniform for a rough linen tunic and breeches. They admire his jewelled crucifix but tell him he must give it up, it is far too fine for his new life of sacrifice. His eyes mist as he hands it over. His old life is leaving his grasp possession by possession. Giving the abbot his sword is bad but handing over his musket brings him to full tears. His main gauche is the worst to part with. It is a fine piece of metalwork with intricate cravings on the blade. It was a birthday gift form Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan. He struggles to hand it over "they are but things lad, trappings of your old life. You came here to work for a god for a reason. You have no more need for things" the abbot says, not unkindly. Aramis sniffles, trying valiantly to pull himself together. They aren't just things he wants to say. They are Athos. They are Porthos. They are d'Artagnan. He can live without things. God help him he can learn to live without sex even if he must take a rod to himself. But how can he live without his friends by his side?