Disclaimer: The Musketeers are not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.
Spoilers: None.
A/N: This mini-series of stories is a collaboration with Celticgal1041. In chapter 5 of her story, Bound and Determined, it is said that Aramis wore a "green dress [that] brought out the gold flecks in his eyes." In my review of that chapter, I commented that it was a great prompt for a story. In no time at all, I go from prompting her to writing that backstory to both of us agreeing to tackle two each of the Musketeers in dresses for a total of four, mostly-separate short stories.
Each chapter tells the story of one of the guys having to wear a dress and is named after the color of the garment they had to wear. To get the full effect, I recommend you read the chapters in the following order: Green*, Blue, Red*, and Black. (*See: Say Yes to the Dress written by Celticgal1041.)
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"Wearing the correct dress for any occasion is a matter of good manners." ~~ Loretta Young.
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Chapter One: Blue
D'Artagnan had been assigned night patrol with Etienne because his mentors were busy following other orders. A few days ago, Aramis and Porthos had been sent on a mission outside of the city, whereas the day before, Athos had been asked to help Captain Tréville with a project.
It was while he was on patrol with Etienne that an alarm was sounded, someone yelling something about a robbery. Suddenly, he was searching the nearby surrounding streets of Paris for signs of a thief.
Out of the corner of his eye, d'Artagnan spotted a figure in the shadows hurrying away from an avenue that led directly to the rear of the house of a Marquis who was claiming that his house had been broken into. Running full-tilt, he practically bounced off a wall of a nearby building as he quickly turned the corner to follow after the mysterious figure dressed in a long, floor-length cape.
D'Artagnan easily caught up to the thief and tackled him to the ground from behind. However, he instantly reared back when he realized that the person was wearing a dress and he had just tackled a woman to the ground. The young man scrambled to get off the lady, apologizing in stilted sentences for potentially hurting her and saying that he must have mistaken her for someone else.
The woman on the ground uttered a faint moan that sounded unusually deep for a lady, before slowly beginning to turn over onto her back. D'Artagnan started to reach down to help the lady when he saw that the scarf wound about the woman's face had slipped down far enough to reveal a full beard. And not only a full beard, but a full beard on a face that he instantly recognized.
It was Athos.
D'Artagnan's mind suddenly stopped being able to process any further thoughts.
It was Athos. In a dress.
Athos. Dress.
It was if his mind could not accept what he was seeing. How? Why? What the…?
"If you don't mind, d'Artagnan. I could use a hand up. It's not easy getting around in this blasted dress let alone rising from the ground."
At first, his mind didn't register that Athos had just spoken to him, because he was still fixating on the outfit the older man was currently wearing. However, when Athos thrust a hand in his direction, his ability to think and move suddenly returned to him.
D'Artagnan grabbed the proffered hand and started tugging his friend up off the ground, helping Athos remain upright when the older man nearly tripped over the hem of his skirt.
"Athos…. What—? I mean… Why are you—?"
He knew he wasn't making much sense and that he was practically incomprehensible, but somehow Athos understood what he was trying to say.
"I am sorry, but I cannot explain right now. I will—"
The sound of footsteps heading in their direction prompted Athos to halt whatever he had been about to say. A moment later, Etienne was calling out d'Artagnan's name, sounding slightly worried.
"Do not give me away," Athos whispered.
D'Artagnan nodded slightly as Athos replaced the scarf around his face and Etienne ran up to them.
"D'Artagnan, did you find—?" the Musketeer asked, eying the woman his young friend was supporting by holding onto one elbow.
"Hurry! I was chasing him when he knocked this lady down to the ground. He's gone that way," d'Artagnan said, pointing down the street Athos had been heading down before they had collided.
"She is alright?" Etienne asked as he moved past them. "You will see her home?"
"Yes on both counts," d'Artagnan replied. He gestured down the street. "Go! You can't let him get away."
Etienne took off down the street running, and he felt guilty for lying to the older man, but Athos must have a reason for…all of this. Whatever it was. At least he hoped so.
"Thank you," Athos said.
D'Artagnan dipped his head in acknowledgment, uncertain of what to say or do next.
"I know that you would like an explanation, but I urgently have to get to a meeting," Athos looked down the street both ways and sighed. "It will look a lot less suspicious if I have an escort. Will you do me the honor?"
The Gascon had to stop himself from smiling like an idiot at the request, which to him was further evidence of the trust the older man must have in him after only knowing each other for less than a handful of months.
"Of course, Mademoiselle," d'Artagnan said cheekily, bowing slightly and taking Athos's hand to place in the crook of his arm. "Lead the way."
Athos's eyebrow practically became one with his hairline as he glared at the younger man, but he allowed d'Artagnan to escort him to the meeting location, hiding his slight smile at the fact that his companion was so willing to help him despite not knowing the full circumstances. He still did not understand why this young man was so willing to give him his trust and friendship after so short an acquaintance.
It wasn't until d'Artagnan and Athos were sitting in a room that the older man had rented as a base of operations for his mission, that a full explanation for his curious attire was given. Athos informed his young friend about the corrupt Marquis and the evidence that he had been sent to procure. The older Musketeer had noted that the Marquis often invited small groups of beautiful, young women into his house and had considered it an opportunity. He would dress as a woman, join a group of them at the last moment, and hopefully be allowed into the house. Once inside he'd search for the required evidence of the man's illegal activities and leave without the Marquis suspecting anything. Needless to say, he had been unable to make a clean getaway, which is when d'Artagnan had literally run into him.
D'Artagnan listened to the tale with rapt attention as Athos explained why he had been wearing a navy blue dress whose fabric was reminiscent of cloth that he had seen at the Bonacieux' house, cloth he knew Constance was planning to make a dress with. He had no idea that Musketeers could be sent out to complete a mission like that. He had no idea that being sent undercover in service of the King might require one to dress as a woman, and wondered if either Porthos or Aramis had ever had to do the same. Perhaps this mission was simply a fluke and such a thing was only very rarely required.
At the end of the night, Athos extracted two promises from him: he was to keep that night's mission a secret and he was absolutely forbidden to tell their two friends about the dress. It was only the second one that he wished he could break and talk to Aramis and Porthos about. But would they ever believe that Athos had donned a dress for a mission? Regardless, the memory of his discovery of Athos in a dress would linger in his mind's eye for far too long.
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Some months later…
While on his way back to the garrison after being on early duty at the palace, d'Artagnan had spotted Constance with Monsieur Bonacieux at the marketplace. Bonacieux leaned into his wife and said something, which must have been amusing since it caused Constance to smile and laugh, making her eyes light up in delight.
Unable to stand seeing the two of them so happy together so soon after Constance's rejection, d'Artagnan changed directions and headed straight towards the nearest tavern that did not cater to the Red Guards. He might want to drink himself under the table, but he was smart enough, at least while he was still sober, to attempt to avoid that kind of potential trouble.
He had managed to finish the majority of a bottle of wine before Athos found him and practically dragged him out of the tavern. Athos brought d'Artagnan back to his rooms and set several bottles of wine on the table for them to share, wanting to keep watch over the lovelorn young man and prevent him from doing something truly stupid.
D'Artagnan was well on his way to being beyond drunk by the time Aramis and Porthos had found the two of them. Athos met them at the door and quietly explained what was going on, the two offering to get some food and definitely more alcohol so they could keep d'Artagnan company through this latest bout of melancholy.
The three men soon discovered that the more inebriated d'Artagnan got, the more he tended to babble randomly about a wide variety of topics, from that of his horse to his thoughts about Cardinal Richelieu. Porthos and Aramis, with wicked gleams in their eyes, encouraged this oft times hilarious commentary while Athos simply sat back and listened; only interrupting when the chatter switched to topics he thought the young man might not appreciate having shared with others.
However, at one point during the night, Athos did not recognize what d'Artagnan was babbling about quickly enough to prevent his own impending doom.
"…and she…she was wearing that beautiful navy blue dress, which al-always reminds me of the one, the one you wore that one night, Athos."
Athos sucked in a breath of surprise at the words that d'Artagnan had just drunkenly uttered. Unfortunately, he had also been taking a drink of his wine and had begun to choke on the liquid as it went down his throat wrong. As he was coughing, he felt a hand clumsily pat his back. When he finally ceased his coughing, he saw d'Artagnan withdrawing his hand, the young man's face looking worried about his well-being. He nodded that he was alright.
That's when he noticed how unusually quiet it was in the room, prompting him to remember why he had been coughing in the first place. He could feel the heat rising in his neck and the tips of his ears as he dared to look Porthos and Aramis in the eyes.
"Ha!" Aramis said triumphantly, holding out his hand, palm up, to Porthos. "Pay up."
Porthos cursed and shifted in his seat to reach into his boot for his coin purse. Taking out several coins he dropped them into Aramis's waiting hand before returning the bag back to its hiding place in his boot. Athos watched the exchange, not understanding what was going on, while d'Artagnan looked as if he were going to drop off to sleep at any moment.
Once Aramis pocketed the coins, he asked, "How long has that bet been outstanding? Two years?"
"I thought it were three," Porthos said.
"No, I'm pretty sure it was two," Aramis said, with a grin on his face.
Porthos made a show of thinking about it and then nodded.
Athos's blush of embarrassment had long ago turned into the heat of anger, which he was now barely holding himself back from expressing.
Instead, he sighed and said, "Gentlemen."
His two oldest friends looked at him with feigned confusion on their faces.
Athos couldn't help the eyebrow that rose of its own accord on his face. "The bet?"
The insincere confusion lasted for a few more moments before Aramis finally broke down laughing, joined seconds later by Porthos.
"Wha's so funny?" d'Artagnan asked, the words muddled due to his over-indulgence of wine.
Aramis chuckled and said, "Well, my friend, after my adventure with Madame Chevreaux and a certain green dress, Porthos and I made a bet as to whether or not Athos would ever stoop so low as to wear a dress for King and Country."—He patted his pocket with the coins a couple times, making them clink together and causing Porthos to lightly smack the back of Aramis's head—"It seems we now have the answer to that question. Porthos said you'd never do it, and I knew it would only be a matter of time."
The way Athos glared at his two supposed friends, even d'Artagnan's alcohol-soaked mind couldn't help but wonder if Porthos and Aramis wouldn't suddenly be reduced to ashes because of it.
"Ah yes, Aramis," Porthos said, sounding wistful and ignoring the look from Athos. "I still remember how the dress brought out the gold flecks in your eyes."
Aramis punched Porthos in the shoulder just as d'Artagnan lowered his head to his arms already resting on the table.
"Yeah… Athos's eyes… Pretty," the young man quietly mumbled as he passed out.
As Porthos and Aramis struggled to keep from laughing out loud and waking d'Artagnan, Athos felt the flush of embarrassment creep up his neck once more, and knew he would never live that comment down for as long as he breathed.
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The end.
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Next time: Black.
Many thanks to celticgal1041 for her beta of this story; all remaining mistakes are mine.
Thanks for reading!