"D'Artagnan, my friend, what is the matter?"
D'Artagnan looked up from where he was glaring at his miserable breakfast to the concerned face of Aramis. They were sitting at one of the wooden tables in the Garrison, in the bright morning sunlight that seemed to be mocking d'Artagnan's mood, waiting for Athos and Porthos to arrive.
"What makes you think anything's the matter?" D'Artagnan decided to deny, despite knowing that he wasn't fooling anyone at the moment. He had enough self-awareness to know that his sullen expression was obvious and out of character, but he was half hoping that his friend would leave it be.
Aramis just raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "Who, exactly, were you trying to convince there, d'Art?"
D'Artagnan rolled his eyes at the nickname, "I thought you had finally stopped calling me that."
Aramis grinned brightly, "Of course not, mi hermano (my brother), it suits you too well. It's so cute. But don't think you've distracted me with your frankly pitiful attempt at misdirection," Aramis looked at D'Artagnan meaningfully.
D'Artagnan sighed, relenting, "I don't know what to do, Aramis. Constance… I thought– no, I know that we were in love, but apparently that wasn't enough for her. It… It doesn't make sense, I know, for me to still feel this way – she rejected me! And for a loveless marriage and Bonacieux's money! She didn't even consider our feelings a factor! But I can't help it!" D'Artagnan pushed away his porridge, folded his arms and buried his face in them, his words slightly muffled as he continued, his anger gone and only devastation remaining, "I have everything that I ever wanted, but without Constance to share in my victory, it feels…"
"Superficial?" Aramis finished for him.
D'Artagnan rotated his head so his right ear was resting on his folded arms while he looked up at Aramis, who was still listening. Unsure of what to say, d'Artagnan went with something that wouldn't leave him vulnerable.
"I was going to say 'hollow', but yeah, that works."
He hadn't meant to go that in depth with his feelings. Frankly, he hadn't expected the other man to listen that long, and he was suddenly self-conscious, half expecting Aramis to start teasing him. It wasn't that d'Artagnan didn't trust him, it was just that he thought that the notorious lover of Paris' women wouldn't understand. D'Artagnan truly held the highest opinion of the men he served with and believed them to be the most honourable men he'd ever met. He also didn't begrudge Aramis his tendency to make love with any and all women he could, regardless of their marital state or how much trouble he would be in if he were ever caught, because he knew that he was always respectful, never asked for more of a lover than what they were willing to give, and was always honest with his intentions and how much he was willing to give. He would charm his lovers, yes, but not beguile with false promises of futures that would never occur, meaning that all his lovers knew what they were getting into ahead of the deed, something which d'Artagnan admired him for.
No, d'Artagnan's scepticism of Aramis' ability to understand was not a criticism of the latter's character, just uncertainty of whether Aramis would know what he meant despite the differences in their situations. After all, there was a difference between liking and showing respect to a partner, and dedicating part of your soul to one, and d'Artagnan had never heard Aramis talk about anyone like that. Though, to be fair, neither he nor Porthos and Athos talked much about their pasts, all of them having an agreement that they did not matter and held no bearing on who they were now, something that d'Artagnan did his best to respect despite his - often burning - curiosity to know more about the men who had adopted him into their brotherhood.
In fact, despite Athos' secretive nature, Aramis was actually the one of the group that he knew the least about, his insight into the marksman's past not extending further back than the fact that he was one of the first musketeers commissioned, a few close-call stories centred around his sexual exploits (just the parts after, when he'd had to escape before being discovered by returning husbands), and the massacre at Savoy three years previously. So, he had no way of knowing whether or not Aramis had felt something like what he felt for Constance in his past. And if he hadn't, then d'Artagnan seriously doubted whether he felt those kinds of emotions for anyone currently.
So d'Artagnan was happy to be surprised when, after glancing at him wryly as if reading his scepticism, Aramis showed that he did, in fact, understand what he was feeling.
"This is because there is a difference between love and being in love. You, mi amigo (my friend), are a creature of passion, so I expect that both states are familiar to you, even if you don't understand the difference," Aramis said.
D'Artagnan figured that he had more to say, but that he wanted to reach his point through conversation. Eager to try and unearth any bit of wisdom he could, d'Artagnan decided to follow along, "I think I've heard something like this before. Being 'in love' means feeling romantic love, while feeling just love is unlimited to lovers, family and friends?"
Aramis smiled at him, obviously pleased that he had answered, "I've heard that too. Perhaps that is true, but it is not what I believe." Aramis shifted his gaze, so he was looking into the distance, at what must have been a different time, when he continued. D'Artagnan didn't notice himself sitting up in anticipation and interest, "I think that love, like all emotions, cannot truly be defined, only experienced." He glanced at d'Artagnan briefly, "Emotions don't listen to reason, or logic, and they don't make sense. They aren't something that you should feel ashamed of, either, as they are far beyond your control. You can't control what you feel, only how much you let it control you." Aramis looked away again, "No, I don't think love is bound to any rules, and it can be different from person to person. The type of love you feel doesn't influence its intensity, either. Romantic love isn't necessarily stronger than fraternal love, despite what most of the stories say."
D'Artagnan was stunned, for a moment, at the level of thought that Aramis must have put into the subject. This spoke of a lot of time – and, probably, reason - to ponder such things, and it made him wonder, once more, at the older man's past. The philosophy that Aramis had shared wasn't one that d'Artagnan had heard or even thought about before and would probably be considered scandalous by some. But he couldn't deny that it felt… right. Honest.
He cleared his throat, "So, what is the difference?"
Aramis glanced at him questioningly.
"Between love and being in love?" He elaborated.
Aramis chuckled, "I am no authority on the subject, d'Artagnan. I can only tell you what I believe. Love is… subjective."
D'Artagnan frowned, not having heard the term in this context before, "What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is all in how you experience it. There is no single, 'true' definition. My truth is not your truth, and vice versa. But personally, I believe that loving is caring, caring about and just feeling, but when you're in love, a part of your soul stays with whoever or whatever you're in love with. In my experience, d'Artagnan, being in love… that can die. But it can't be rescinded. Only your heart can determine who or what you love; your head has no say in the matter."
"Love can die, but it can't be rescinded," d'Artagnan repeated thoughtfully in a murmur before his attention was drawn back to Aramis.
"But, like I said, that's just my truth – at the moment. People's truths can change. But you will have to find your own truth, d'Artagnan. I'd recommend you start with the difference between love and being in love, and then," he patted his shoulder comfortingly, "figure out what it is you feel for Constance. Trust me, your heart will only know what to do once you've answered those questions."
D'Artagnan was quiet for a moment. He had gotten a lot more out of this conversation than he had thought he would. He had never thought of Aramis as a wise man concerning matters of the heart… or really anything to do with human emotions. He was passionate, yes, but too impulsive, wild and reckless - like fire. Too untethered and emotional and far more likely to ignore his common sense if his heart determined a different path. But then again, d'Artagnan supposed, there must be something to be said for the kind of wisdom that can only come from people who lived and loved as freely and honestly as Aramis did. He knew that if he was having this conversation with either Athos or Porthos, he would have gotten a very different answer, which would be justified considering what he knew of their pasts – Athos' especially. Still…
"Hey, Aramis," d'Artagnan found himself once again with the marksman's attention. In his musing he hadn't noticed the older man get up, probably to go get breakfast or find the others, "have you ever…?"
Aramis raised an amused brow when d'Artagnan trailed off, "Have I ever what, d'Art?"
D'Artagnan huffed, but was too curious, now, to risk being distracted by objecting to the return of the nickname, "Have you ever been in love?"
Aramis paused then, his eyes growing distant and his lips curling into a small, soft – and slightly sad – smile, "Yes. A few times, in fact."
D'Artagnan's interest was definitely piqued, but he knew that if Aramis had wanted to elaborate on that then he would have, and he respected the other man too much to try and pry. Perhaps he would find out more another time.
"Aramis," he waited until he had the marksman's undivided attention again. "Thanks."
Aramis just smiled, "Tú, mi amigo, son un hermano de mi corazón (You, my friend, are a brother of my heart)," he said, which confused d'Artagnan, since the only Spanish he recognised was 'mi amigo' and 'hermano', which meant 'my friend' and 'brother', respectively. They were common endearments that Aramis used for him, Porthos and Athos. He had only begun calling him that after the incident with Vadim, when it became clear that he would be sticking around. D'Artagnan had asked Porthos about it, who had told him that it was a sign of trust and that it meant that Aramis had claimed him as a brother in arms and soul and that he better be alright with that, because he wasn't going to be able to shake him off anytime soon. D'Artagnan had felt truly honoured at the time, to receive such a gesture of faith and trust – he still was, in fact, especially now with what he knew Marsac had done to him, even if Aramis had forgiven him.
Aramis gave an amused laugh and continued before d'Artagnan could ask what he had said, "You are very welcome, d'Art. I'm just glad that you actually seem to have taken what I said on board. Porthos still doesn't believe me about the answer to 'my secret for getting women', as he said."
D'Artagnan raised an eyebrow, "What was your answer to that? Devilish good looks and charm?"
Aramis shook his head, his trademark mischievous grin alight on his face, "Trust me, it's a lot funnier when you ask Porthos about that. I'm pretty sure he was planning on selling my 'secrets' to poor sods who don't know any better, like recruits and Red Guards."
D'Artagnan snorted, "I wouldn't put it past Porthos - or you for that matter."
Aramis put his hand on his chest and made an offended face – one that would have been a lot more convincing if he wasn't still grinning, "I would never, d'Artagnan! Me, take advantage of the poor, innocent, baby recruits?!"
D'Artagnan joined him in laughter at the way Aramis carefully didn't mention the Red Guard in his declaration of innocence, because, honestly, the image that created was too funny to not laugh. D'Artagnan was happy to note that the sunny morning of what promised to be a beautiful day was no longer mocking his mood but was rather reflecting it. He would need time to think about his situation regarding Constance, since none of this changed his feelings, but he did feel a little more knowledgeable and a little more hopeful.
Even so, as he waited with Aramis for their other two friends to arrive and their day to begin, d'Artagnan decided that his commission wasn't hollow or superficial. Because, regardless of his relationship with Constance (despite his feelings for her, even after what she had said to him and done to his emotions), he still had three brothers.
Ones who, he suspected, would be a lot harder to shake.
~0~0~0~0~0~
Gwaine sniggered for the third time in under a minute.
Oh, he loved it when Arthur was late to breakfast. Not because it meant that he had more time to talk with Merlin or because it made it a lot easier to steal his king's food (although they were both excellent reasons and certainly played a part in it).
No, the main reason that Gwaine loved the days that Arthur was late in joining his new wife in the morning in their chambers, was that Gwen – beautiful, devious, fantastic Gwen – seemed to take that as permission to share some of Arthur's more embarrassing stories, from when he was younger, with Merlin joining in whenever he knew extra details (although he hardly needed a reason to tell mortifying stories about the king of Camelot). It was always so much fun to reference these stories later in the day and retell them to the rest of their friends while Arthur tried – and failed – to look anything other than stupendously embarrassed.
Oh, Gwaine was more than aware that he was being used as a tool by Gwen, to keep Arthur on his toes and limit the number of days that he was late in the mornings, but he loved it.
Especially when he got to hear stories like today, about the time, early in their courtship, Arthur had told Gwen that he would cook her a meal in her house, and had sent Merlin to bring a dinner back from the castle kitchens, not thinking about the fact that Gwen had just delivered a very similar meal to the Lady Morgana not half an hour previously. Oh yes, Gwaine was going to have fun bringing that one up later today.
"Gwaine, what are you doing in here?" Came Arthur's annoyed voice as he entered the room. Gwaine was glad that Gwen had just finished telling the story, and that she and Merlin were both adept at keeping a straight face. He didn't want to give Arthur any warning before retelling the story during the afternoon training.
"Just keeping two of my best friends company while they wait for the arrival of this other guy I know, so they can eat breakfast together," Gwaine was also very glad that acting suspiciously merry was not out of character for him, as he couldn't contain his grin, even if he tried, at the mental image he had of Arthur trying to come up with a feasible explanation for why the roast he had 'cooked' for Gwen was near identical to what was being served at the castle that evening.
"And stealing said breakfast, no doubt," the king of Camelot said matter-of-factly.
Gwaine didn't bother denying it, he just pouted over-exaggeratedly, "Well, it's not like all of us can so easily get food out of Mary's kitchen."
It was true too. That place was a whole kingdom within a kingdom, with a strict queen who must have recruited the cutlery to act as her spies, because Gwaine could honestly not understand how Mary always seemed to know that he was there. While drafting his plan to steal some of her mince pies, Gwaine had taken note of how all his friends managed to get food out of the formidable castle kitchen.
Arthur was easy, he just sent Merlin to get him food, and while Gwen could do the same now, Gwaine had noticed that if she had the time and opportunity, she would make her own food. Probably something she found comforting, and a way to ground herself when she needed to (what? Just because he acted oblivious, didn't mean he actually was). Gaius never actually seemed to eat outside of his own quarters where he cooked his own food, mostly stew (which was actually pretty good, from what Gwaine had tried the times he'd had dinner with him and Merlin). Aside from that, Merlin tended to be given food whenever he went into the kitchens, due to his skinny frame and the fact that he was so well liked. He didn't even need to ask, especially after… Well… No need to go into that right now.
Percival was next to useless in his observations, since he was his usual partner in crime whenever he was planning a heist of the kitchens. This was due to Mary's innate need to not feed people unless it was a scheduled meal time (especially knights, for some reason) so Percy was in the same boat as him. Elyan, the schemer, tended to use his sister to get food, whether he pleaded with her and appealed to her sense of sibling love, or stole whatever food she had made. Gwaine thought he was pretty lucky that Gwen didn't tamper with her food just to teach him a lesson – he wouldn't put it past her – but she seemed to take Elyan's pestering as a compliment to her cooking (which wasn't fair because she wouldn't make Gwaine food no matter how nicely he asked her).
Elyan had also had a pretty good con going where he'd asked Mary to give him some food, so he could surprise Gwen with a nice, family meal. It worked really rather well for a couple of months, since it wasn't out of character for the 'low-born', Round Table Knights to forego the use of servants. Unfortunately, Elyan hadn't told Merlin what he'd been doing, so at one point their schedules had collided and Mary realised that she had been conned. Elyan hadn't been brave enough to step back into the kitchens since (smart man) and had instead joined in with Gwaine and Percy's attempts to steal from the kitchen.
(Before Mary had caught on to the trick, however, Gwaine wasn't ashamed to admit that he had tried to 'borrow' Elyan's con by claiming to be taking food to Gwen, Arthur and even Merlin. Funnily enough, she had never believed him. 'Well, you did try to sneak into the kitchens disguised as a serving maid once, so it's not like she's ever going to think of you as anything other than suspicious,' said one of Gwaine's inner thoughts, which sounded a lot like- No. No need to go into that right now.)
So, despite Elyan's surprising cunning streak, he was now just as useless as Percy in Gwaine's research. Just like Leon, who would just wait for the official meal times to eat, because of course he did. (Well, Gwaine did have this one hazy memory of Leon telling him that he had secretly been lying in wait and building up a reputation of only eating the official meals for the past fifteen years so that Mary would never suspect him when he did finally try to steal food from her kitchen, but he had been way drunker than usual at the time, so he wasn't sure if he imagined that conversation or not. Although, he wouldn't put it past the older knight to tell him that when it was obvious he was drunk and then laugh from the distance as Gwaine tried to figure out if he had actually said that or not. The guy had a subtle – but admittedly hilarious – sense of humour like that, which Gwaine had found out the hard way. It only made him admire the man more.)
But either way, Leon's current eating habits were also useless to Gwaine's plans (even though he was looking forward to seeing his plan come into fruition… if it wasn't a dream). And Lance's-
…Damn… It seemed like Gwaine wouldn't able to avoid going into that, after all.
Damn.
('Gwaine, I've been dead for five months. You're allowed to talk about me, let alone think about me. Besides, I'm interested in seeing where this goes.'
Since you're not real, you're not supposed to actually get an opinion.
'I'm hurt, Gwaine. Is this the way you treat the ghosts of all your dead friends?'
You're not a ghost, you're a figment of my imagination. A product of my grief. A representation of the fact that I haven't properly mourned you yet.
'That is very true and logical. Unfortunately, it won't make a difference, since you still haven't dealt with it yet.'
I know. I'll get to it.
'Hmm.'
Look, I know I've been putting it off-
'OK, this is probably not the time for a metaphorical argument with yourself. So, either you finish revising your notes for the heist you've been planning, or I swear I'm going to start a metaphorical conversation with you about your illogical and misplaced feelings of guilt about my death, which will force you to confront your issues and start to mentally heal and grow as a person.')
-And Lance's had just not made sense. At all. He'd just go into the kitchens, approach Mary, and ask her – with no small amount of rather obvious charm – if he could take some of the food. Gwaine didn't believe this when Lance first told him that all he'd had to do was ask (he'd already tried that approach more than once) until he witnessed it himself from where he was scoping the kitchen from the grate above.
Gwaine figured that it must have been because Lance was honestly just that noble and innocent to the world. Mary must have been able to tell that Lance had had no ulterior motives when talking to her, and that he had been painfully, honestly sincere when he had complimented her beauty, and had taken pity on him. The kid had been the most noble man he had ever met (ironic, considering both their pasts), but while he had proven before that he wasn't actually such a goody-two-shoes when it came to matters of the law (or pranking) when necessary, he had still been so innocent and no where near sneaky enough to beguile Mary, when not even Gwaine had managed (…right?)."
Gwaine was brought out of his thoughts by Arthur's voice.
"You mean the castle's kitchen, Gwaine."
"Nope, it's Mary's kitchen. Anyone who thinks otherwise is lying to themselves."
"That's a fair assessment," Gwen agreed, while Merlin nodded. There wasn't a whole lot Arthur could say to that, since he never went to the kitchens himself, not to mention the fact that he was too scared to disagree with his wife when he was already late to breakfast. He'd learnt his lesson after the time Gwaine had told all the knights about Arthur's attempts at courting Lady Vivian (courtesy of Merlin and Gwen, of course).
"Sorry I'm late, Guinevere," Arthur said, apparently deciding that ignoring Gwaine's presence would make him less annoying. Doubtful.
"It is fine, Arthur. I'm sure you had important business to attend to," Gwen said easily, as though she hadn't just been taking the opportunity Arthur's absence provided to tell embarrassing stories about him to their loudest, most gossip-mongering friend.
"Well, no, it wasn't that important," Arthur replied, "Just some administrational stuff that probably could have been handled without me. But then…" Arthur trailed off with a thoughtful frown, gaining the interest of everyone in the room.
"Arthur?" Gwen questioned, just moments before Gwaine could.
"I received a missive from one of the villages at the Nemeth border. Apparently, there have been sightings in a few of them, of a witch who's been killing low-lives and bandits in the area," Gwaine frowned at that. He didn't have much of an opinion on magic aside from it being particularly annoying when someone was trying to kill you with it, but also something he wouldn't condemn people for having as long it wasn't being used to commit any crimes that Gwaine would feel compelled to stop. Gwaine believed that people should be condemned for their actions, rather than their method of accomplishing them. In the case of murder, it shouldn't matter whether you use magic, pay someone else or do it yourself. The issue should be the why, not the how.
And vigilante justice was always a hard one. Gwaine himself had often dealt it out when the situation called for it, before he was given authority along with his red cloak, so he would reserve judgement until he had investigated more. Sometimes it was necessary to take up arms and put a stop to bad people yourself if no one else was willing to do anything.
"She was described as a blonde beauty, with a vendetta, who worked alone," Arthur continued speaking.
"Not Morgana, then," Gwaine put in.
"No, and I doubt that it's anyone we've met before. The appearance and attitude together don't match that of anyone we've come across before," Arthur said thoughtfully.
"What do you want to do?" Merlin asked, looking at Arthur intently.
Arthur sighed, "Investigate. Treat it like any other vigilante issue." Arthur paused then, looking like he was readying himself before continuing carefully, "The magic is less of an issue, so I won't blame you if she manages to escape you, just make sure that the vigilantism stops."
Gwaine looked around to see his smile mirrored on Gwen and Merlin's faces at what Arthur was – and wasn't – saying. Arthur apparently noticed them too, although he seemed a bit surprised by their instant, obvious approval.
"What?" He asked eventually.
Gwaine exchanged glances with his other friends before smiling wider and responding, "Nothing. I'm just glad to see you have a good grasp on what your priorities with this should be."
There was a pause, before Arthur very carefully asked, "Really? You really think so?"
"Yes," Gwaine stressed his affirmative to show how serious he was.
"Absolutely," Merlin put in, his pride obvious.
"I definitely do, and," Gwen smiled reassuringly and gripped her husband's hands, "I also know that we aren't the only ones who would agree."
Arthur looked at them all for a moment longer before nodding to himself, as if deciding something, "I'm glad. I have been thinking for a while now that the crimes that are committed should be more relevant than how they are committed."
"So, who'll be going on this mission?" Gwaine asked, while blatantly stealing one of Arthur's sausages, which the king didn't seem to notice.
"Round Table Knights," Arthur answered immediately, before pausing for a moment, as if contemplating something. Eventually he began nodding to himself again, "And me and Merlin."
This caused some raised eye brows from the other occupants of the room. It wasn't often that Arthur, as king of Camelot, went out on long distance missions anymore. And when he did, it was usually for something a whole lot more important than one vigilante. Generally, Arthur left Camelot's internal affairs up to his knights' judgement and focused on the bigger picture and international relations. Seeing the doubt on their faces, Arthur held up his hands placatingly and began to explain.
"Since we're going to be trying a different order of priorities, I want to be there to judge first-hand how they seem to work. I trust everyone that's going completely," he reassured, "but, this is just something…" he sighed.
Gwaine nodded in understanding and Gwen said, "It's just something you have to do yourself. It's OK, Arthur, we understand that. But are you sure it's wise for you to leave Camelot? Especially to the Nemeth border, since it's the furthest away?"
Arthur nodded in certainty, "Actually, I've been thinking about finding an excuse to travel that far away for a while now. I think it would be a good way for you to get some experience on the throne as a ruler in your own right. I won't always be around, Guinevere, and I want to know that you will be familiar with what it's like to run the kingdom now, rather than when we are in dire straights due to a war or something and I'm leading an army and too far away to be of any help. It'll also be a good way for the people to get used to having you as their queen. Not to mention the council and the lords."
"That's actually a surprisingly good point, Princess," Gwaine said after a moment. Arthur rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored him, focusing on Gwen instead.
"Thank you for the trust you are showing me, Arthur, but are you sure? Isn't two weeks too soon to leave me entirely responsible for the nation?" Gwen said, clearly unsure.
Arthur nodded again, "There is no one I trust more for this than you, Guinevere. I know that you're ready, and I think the sooner you get some experience, the better."
"I- Thank you, Arthur. I won't fail you." Gwaine was impressed by how well Gwen managed to keep her composure, when it was obvious how much her husband's faith in her had moved her.
"I know you won't. You'll be better at ruling than me by the time we get back."
"That shouldn't be too hard," Merlin added with a bright smile, "Gwen's already better than you at pretty much everything else! The smartest decision Arthur ever made was marrying you. Besides, you'll have Gaius to talk to if you need any advice."
Gwaine laughed as Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes again. It was a wonder they didn't get stuck in their sockets at this rate. It was made even more amusing because he knew that Merlin's comment would most likely have warranted the king throwing something at him, had it not been made to reassure Gwen (and if Gwen hadn't been there to witness the act and realise that she had actually married a giant man-child). But, either way, he was probably right, and Gwaine was kind of disappointed to miss Gwen's first time ruling without Arthur. He knew that she would be a brilliant queen, and he wished he could see the faces of the councilmen when they inevitably tried to give the 'weak, low-born queen' the run-around.
Oh well, at least he'd be able to witness Arthur's first attempt at bringing justice to a sorcerer for something other than the magic. It seemed like there would be some progress involved for everyone in the next couple of weeks.
