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Looks Can be Deceiving
A Musketeers story by Deana
Story takes place in season 1
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"ACHOO!" *thump*
"Oh, no…"
D'Artagnan looked towards the stairs when he heard what sounded like someone falling, before looking at Athos at his quiet comment. That wasn't the kind of thing that one often heard from the usually stoic musketeer, so d'Artagnan asked, "What is it?" before looking back towards the stairs. They were standing in line for morning muster, and he noticed Porthos looking up there too with a concerned expression, and then he realized why: a gloved hand suddenly came out of nowhere and grabbed onto the rail, and Aramis suddenly stood, leaning on the rail for a few seconds before making his way towards the stairs and descending very slowly.
D'Artagnan watched Aramis walk down the steps. "Aramis just…fell," he said, in shock.
"It appears that he has caught a cold," Athos stated, as if that explained everything.
Porthos sighed, watching his best friend closely, as if waiting for him to fall again. "When Aramis is sick, he gets clumsy," he told d'Artagnan.
"What do you mean?" d'Artagnan asked.
"You'll see," said Porthos. "And you'll never forget."
D'Artagnan glanced at him with a bewildered expression before looking at Aramis again and seeing him reach the bottom and miss the last step, stumbling but catching himself thanks to his hold on the rail.
D'Artagnan looked to see if Treville was coming before he considered breaking formation to go over to his friend, but before he had a chance to move, he saw that Porthos had already rushed over to Aramis and grabbed his arm, hustling him over to stand in line just as Treville came out of his office.
Porthos realized that Aramis was standing on his left instead of his right and quickly pulled him to the side and switched places with him.
D'Artagnan looked at Aramis and saw that he looked pale and was breathing a little faster than normal. He quickly faced forward again as Treville reached them and took attendance.
"Athos!"
"Here."
"Aramis!" Treville got no reply, and looked up.
Porthos elbowed his friend.
"Here," Aramis said.
Treville looked at him and frowned, before walking closer and staring at him. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Aramis said. His voice didn't sound right.
Treville frowned. "You're sick."
Aramis shook his head. "No…I swallowed water the wrong way this morning and choked on it."
Treville stared at him for a few seconds later, before turning to go back to his spot.
Once Treville finished taking attendance and assigned the other musketeers their duties, he motioned to the four of them and went over to their usual table, sitting on the edge. "The king is going to hear the grievances of some of the locals today, which means that you four need to be stationed in the throne room."
Athos and Porthos had to fight themselves to not look at Aramis when they heard that.
Treville noticed that something was wrong. "Is there a problem?"
Porthos opened his mouth, but suddenly closed it.
D'Artagnan saw Aramis kick Porthos' foot, and wondered what on earth was going on.
Aramis shook his head at Treville—deciding not to speak this time.
"All right," Treville said. "Eat breakfast and then head to the palace."
"Yes sir," said d'Artagnan. He watched their captain walk away before he sat at the table and looked at everyone. "What is going on here?"
"It's like I told you before," said Porthos. "Aramis gets clumsy when he's sick."
"I'm not sick," Aramis said, as he sat beside d'Artagnan and rubbed his eyes.
"Then what exactly did we witness a few moments ago?" Athos asked, putting a foot up on the bench and leaning on his knee.
Aramis kept rubbing his eyes. "I tripped. There's a loose board on the floor up there."
"You tripped," said Porthos. "And the fact that you 'tripped on a lose board' right after you sneezed was just a coincidence, then?"
Aramis stopped rubbing his eyes but didn't look at anyone. "Yes."
Athos reached out and put a hand under Aramis' chin, lifting his face up so he could see it better, displaying his bleary eyes and paler-than-usual skin.
Aramis yanked his head away, and seemed to sway slightly. "I'm fine." His voice sounded a little scratchy and nasally.
Porthos looked at Athos. "What are we gonna do?"
D'Artagnan looked from one to the other of them. "You're serious about this?"
Aramis sighed, and had to stifle a cough.
"Yes," Athos answered. "Aramis with a cold has the potential to wreak havoc."
D'Artagnan looked at Aramis, who wouldn't look at anyone again. "I don't understand…how is that possible?"
"No doctor we've brought him to has been able to do anythin'," Porthos said. "When Aramis is sick, he looses coordination, especially when he sneezes; it makes him dizzy. The whole thing started when he caught an infection in his left ear from a kid in the orphanage*. It left damage." He suddenly shook his head. "Oh, the stories we could tell you…"
Serge suddenly came over with a tray and placed plates in front of them. "Mornin', boys," he said.
Everyone repeated it back, and Serge stopped and looked at Aramis. "Blimey!" he exclaimed, before taking the empty tray and hurrying back to the kitchen.
D'Artagnan watched him go. "What just happened?"
"Proof for ya," said Porthos. "The last time Aramis was sick—it was just before we met you, in fact—he went into the kitchen in search of honey. He found it, but managed to knock over a six-foot-high shelf that was covered with supplies."
D'Artagnan blinked and looked at Aramis. "Did you get hurt?"
Porthos answered before Aramis had a chance to. "He didn't, but how do you think Serge got that limp?"
D'Artagnan looked at him in shock.
"Don't lie to him, Porthos!" Aramis exclaimed, before the cough that he'd stifled became un-stifled.
"Serge wasn't there at the time," Athos said. "But when he came back and saw the mess—and Aramis attempting to clean it up, which, in his condition, was only making it worse—you could practically hear his anguished scream all the way down to the palace."
Porthos started laughing. "Aramis stumbled out of the kitchen covered in flour! Even funnier, he forgot to bring the honey, and I had to go in there and get it because Serge wouldn't let him back in!"
D'Artagnan had to smile at the mental picture of Aramis covered in flour, but he tried to hide it, noticing that the subject of their conversation was sitting there quieter than he'd ever seen him, pushing the food around on his plate. "Aramis?"
"I'm fine," Aramis replied.
"We're not tryin' to make fun of you, Aramis," Porthos said. "We just know you by now and we want to protect you."
"And everyone else," Athos deadpanned.
Aramis raised his head. "I'm fine," he said, firmly. "One sneeze doesn't mean the end of the world." Even as he said it, his nose scrunched and he sneezed again.
"Two sneezes," Porthos clarified.
"So? You know that I sneeze sometimes!" Aramis exclaimed. "It doesn't mean that I'm sick!"
Porthos nodded. "Yeah, in the spring. It ain't spring right now, Aramis."
"I said I'm fine," Aramis told them, sounding annoyed. "The king is expecting all four of us, and I intend to fulfill my duty." He quickly stood and seemed to forget that there was a bench behind him. He nearly flipped over the back if it, but caught himself by grabbing the table.
Everyone chose to ignore it.
"Aren't you gonna eat?" Porthos asked.
Aramis opened his mouth to tell him that he wasn't hungry, but he realized that it wouldn't help his case any, so he sat down again and ate as much as he could.
Fifteen minutes later, they were mounted and riding out of the garrison. Aramis was quiet along the way, trying to hold in his sneezes but mostly failing. He had a tickle in his throat that was driving him mad, but he knew that if he coughed, the others would renew the earlier conversation.
Soon, they were at the palace, heading up the stairs and passing the people who would be heard by the king that day.
Climbing the stairs was making it harder for Aramis to hold back the urge to cough, so as they passed a group of people who were arguing, he used their noise to cover up the sound, hoping that his friends wouldn't notice.
Porthos looked at him, and Aramis knew that he hadn't succeeded. Naturally, the instant he looked at him was when Aramis' lack of coordination struck and he tripped up the stairs.
D'Artagnan, walking beside him, grabbed his arm before he could fall.
Aramis inwardly sighed. "Thank you," he said.
D'Artagnan nodded, trying to keep his shock off his face. It looked like Athos and Porthos were not exaggerating.
The guard at the door let the musketeers in, and they strode inside and stood close enough for the king to know they were there, but not close enough to get in his way as he stood pacing.
"Ah," Louis said when he saw them. He motioned for them to take their places six feet away from the throne, with Aramis and Porthos off to one side and Athos and d'Artagnan on the other. The four musketeers were meant to be his protectors should an angry subject not be happy with the king's decision.
D'Artagnan looked at Athos as he stared at Aramis. "Maybe nothing will happen," he said. "He doesn't look that sick."
"Looks can be deceiving," Athos replied.
D'Artagnan sighed, wondering what crazy memories would take up residence in his mind after today…
TBC
'*Off-Balance': story ID 12239330