AN: Not sure if this will stay as a one shot or if I'll add another chapter or more to it. For the time being, it can be read as a one shot.
Thank you, as always, in advance for taking the time to read my story.
Tanith
"She put your dagger in her what?" Aramis almost shouted, only to receive a hard kick in the shin by his young drinking companion.
Red in the face d'Artagnan nervously glanced around the tavern, hoping no one heard.
"I don't know what you're so worried about," Athos said nonchalantly before raising his tankard and drowning himself in it.
"No wine?" Porthos observed with surprise.
Athos wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. "Not yet. I'm thirsty."
"Hmph," Porthos returned his attention to the Gascon.
"So, tell me again how this is an issue?" Aramis continued, leaning across the table as the noise was becoming rather raucous.
"Come on, Aramis. I can't very well slip my hand in there and dig around," d'Artagnan replied with a hint of sarcasm.
"Well, I would and believe me I have," Aramis replied with a smile.
D'Artagnanan had chosen that moment to take a swig of ale. Naturally he choked on the beverage.
Porthos gave the young man a few hard slaps on the back.
"You what?!" d'Artagnan choked out with a cough. His eyes were watering adding to his embarrassment as Porthos handed him a handkerchief.
"There, there. It's not worth shedding any tears over," Porthos chuckled.
Aramis sighed at d'Artagnan's naivety. "My dear friend," he began, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You have much to learn about Gabrielle De Bonnay."
"Still, I doubt a lesson in Mademoiselle De Bonnay's undergarments is going to do me much good right now," d'Artagnan spluttered.
"True," Aramis agreed thoughtfully, removing his hand from d'Artagnan's shoulder and leaning back in his chair.
"Aren't you going to help me?" the Gascon pleaded.
"If your meaning of help involves me searching for your dagger in the King's second cousin's corset then you're asking the wrong person," Aramis waved his hands in the negative.
"You said you've done it before!"
"Yes but under different circumstances."
"How different?"
"It was my dagger that ended up in there. Sorry."
D'Artagnan buried his face in his hands and groaned then ran his fingers through his hair.
"She'll give it back eventually. It's just this silly game she likes to play, you see?" Aramis tried to reassure his friend but it seemed to be failing.
"I don't care about the dagger! It's Constance I'm worried about! If she ever finds out…"
"It's your fault anyway," Athos chimed in.
"And how is it my fault, pray tell?" d'Artagnan snapped.
"Let me see," Athos theatrically rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. "Ah yes, who stormed into that room in the first place, ready to engage in some foolhardy duel?"
"I heard a woman screaming and assumed it was Mademoiselle in peril."
"Did it ever not occur to you why we did not react so enthusiastically?" Aramis asked.
"Besides, it was Monsieur Rougemont who was doing all that awful screaming," added Porthos.
"Thank you Porthos for pointing that out. I realized that after I…never mind all that. The point is…"
Athos cut across d'Artagnan. "I know you grew up on a farm but did your father never teach you about these sorts of places where people pay for bedroom entertainment?"
"For men, yes."
"Well, now you know there are places for women too." The smallest hint of a smirk appeared on Athos's ruggedly handsome face.
D'Artagnan shot a glare in Athos's direction but the older musketeer was busy ordering a bottle of wine. A thought then suddenly occurred to the young man and he slowly turned to face Aramis. "Please tell me you never worked as a you know…"
"A prostitute? Okay, now I'm hurt," Aramis feigned feeling insulted.
D'Artagnan raised an eyebrow.
"Firstly, a gentlemen never asks a woman for money when it comes to, well, anything really. Secondly, it pays better to be a musketeer so to answer your question,"
It didn't quite answer d'Artagnan's question but whatever Aramis's past occupation was, it was of no consequence to the matter at hand.
"Mademoiselle De Bonnay is well known for her late night engagements whenever she visits Paris which thankfully is only once a year. This is why the King assigned us to escort her back to the palace tonight," Athos explained. "And each time, she always succeeds in pick pocketing a trophy from one lucky musketeer."
"And it had to be me," d'Artagnan sighed.
"Welcome to the games of love," said Porthos. "Your training has just begun it seems."
"Great. You may as well kill me now."
"Ye of little faith in Madam Bonacieux," Aramis scolded playfully.
"Well, what am I going to tell her? That dagger was a gift from her."
"Tell her the truth," Athos suggested, his tone had grown darker as he drank his wine. The amusement in the conversation becoming lost as the emptiness in his heart began to weigh him down.
One look at Porthos and Aramis told the Gascon, they were in agreement with Athos.
"For the sake of my life, I hope you are right, gentlemen," d'Artagnan held out his tankard for a toast then he excused himself to return to his quarters.
"I'll accompany you," Aramis volunteered with a yawn. He bade his brothers good night and gave Porthos a silent message to make sure he leaves with Athos very soon. The master swordsman was known for his brooding and tonight was no different, except the ordinarily amusing situation between their young friends seemed to have a darker effect on him. Of course drinking didn't help matters and it certainly wasn't going to make him think straight.
"Don't know what all the fuss is about," Porthos shrugged once d'Artagnan and Aramis had left.
Athos stared into the bottom of his glass and lamented over his own mistakes and those made by his estranged wife. He hoped d'Artagnan and Constance would never have to fall victim to the darker games played for the sake of love. "It's about honesty and trust. D'Artagnan has to learn that keeping secrets from Constance, no matter how small, will become a habit and that habit will turn into poison, ultimately killing the love they have for one another. As for Constance, she will be tested time and time again for her trust in d'Artagnan. Without trust, what is there but a bitter taste?"
Porthos remained silent as he listened to his friend. "I'll drink to that." He raised his cup and drank the last of his drink.
Neither men spoke for a time after that as exhaustion and the effects of alcohol slowly took hold. Then as the night wore down, they left the tavern together in silence.