Disclaimer: I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or any characters featured within this.
Notes: It has been a while since I wrote a story for this series without it being for my friend's birthday. But, I have been feeling inspired to write more and after browsing BrOTP prompts, I came across one that was painful yet perfect for these two.
There is no slash, just brotherly love. This does contain character death in a nightmare.
I'd like to dedicate this to my friends CuteSigma0426aFan and Shychick, who helped me feel motivated to write more for this series.
I hope you enjoy!
(Linebreaks hate me, so I will use AdPCD.)
AdPCD
It was a routine none would adapt to, being woken by...
"IT'S ONE OF THE CLOCK! SLEEP, GOOD PEOPLE!"
Splash!
Unfortunately for two individuals living in the mansion of Monsieur de Treville, the Captain of the King's Musketeers, sleep would not be disrupted by the usual calls of a town crier roaming the streets of Paris, nor the accompanying splash as a result of someone dumping a bucket of water on said town crier's head for disturbing the peace. No, it would be something far worse.
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"Come on, wake up! You have to wake up!" he called as he continued shaking his comrade. "This isn't the right time or place to fall asleep...oh, do wake up..." He felt something seep through his leather gloves. He lifted his hands, turning them over and looking at his palms; eyes widening in horror at recognition of a thick, red substance coating them. "No...you're not...wake up, please, wake up..."
The other did not even stir.
"No...oh, no...no! No, this cannot be! Not you!"
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Albert rocked from side to side, letting out numerous murmurs before he finally shot upwards into a sitting position, sky-coloured orbs wide open and scanning his surroundings. He panted, lifting a hand to his chest as he willed his heartbeat to return to a more steady pace upon realising he was in his room. His fringe clung to his forehead dampened with sweat that he knew was not a result of his room being too hot. On the contrary, it was a rather cool night.
"I-I should check on him. Just for peace of mind," he murmured, reaching for the matches sitting beside the candle resting on a table beside his bed. He had to will his hands to stop shaking so he could strike a match and light the wick.
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His eyes flew open, emerald darting back and forth. The sound of snoring filled his ears, reminding him he was in the dormitory room he shared with his older comrades and close friends. He slowly sat up, not wanting to hit his head on the underside of the bunk above him.
He still felt incredibly tense. Maybe I should see for myself if he is alright. He pulled back the covers, slid out of his bed and tiptoed out of the room, careful not to disturb the others.
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Albert proceeded down the hallway, candlestick held up front so he could see where he was going. His pace was calm, the complete opposite of how he truly felt. He heard footfalls approaching.
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D'Artagnan had carefully made his way through the familiar hallway. He was without a guiding light so he had to exercise caution lest he get himself into an accident. He noticed a flicker of light ahead, wondering just who it could be. He almost wished he had his sword with him, just in case they were not friend, but foe. As he and the source of light drew closer, he realised who it was. "Albert?"
The petit blond squinted as he raised the candle higher. "D'Artagnan!" he exclaimed in a hushed voice, surprised to see his friend.
The light guiding his path, he hurriedly approached the youngest Musketeer and soon stood before him. "I was just on my way to your room! What are you doing out here?"
"I..I was actually on my way to yours."
"You too?!" He almost surprised himself with his vocal volume. It was enough to echo through the otherwise silent building.
Albert quickly put his index finger to his lips, the universal shh signal. He knew they had to talk about why they were both up and hoping to see the other. "Come back to my room; we can talk there without fear of disturbing anybody."
"Alright."
Albert gripped D'Artagnan's wrist in his free hand, leading him back to his room.
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The flame of the candle and the moonlight beaming through the solitary window were the only sources of light in the room. Albert had a lantern, but decided against using it. He sat on his bed, the brun beside him. Neither knew how to start the conversation.
Not one to endure much silence, D'Artagnan was the first to speak up. He kept his voice at a low volume. "I was actually coming to see if you were alright. I had one frightful nightmare."
"Would you like to share it?" Albert whispered, not yet ready to speak of his own.
"I suppose I should. So, we were in combat, all five of us. It was against the Cardinal's Guards. We were showing them a thing or two, when suddenly...you were slashed from behind. I'd told the others to keep holding off the Guards before I hurried to your aid. It was a terrible slice, a ghastly sight. It was rather remarkable you could speak for another minute. Next thing I knew, I was trying to wake you up and..."
The small man looked up at his best friend with wide eyes. "Th-that's..."
"I mean, I know someone would never be able to do that, but still...Albert?" Even with the miniscule amount of light in the room, there was no mistaking the shine in the blond's eyes, nor the way his bottom lip trembled. "What's...what's the matter?"
"That nightmare," he choked out. "I had it too, but the roles were reversed. You were the one mortally wounded and I was the one pleading for you to wake up." He shivered, though not due to a chill related to cold. "No matter how firm or desperate I sounded, you would not stir. There was...blood on my gloves, so much of it, as I kept trying to shake you awake."
"Yes, I recall the blood too. There was so much...too much..."
"I would normally try using logic to reassure myself if I find myself experiencing nightmares, but I was too shaken by this one. I had to see that you were alright to dispel my fears."
"I know what you mean. I tend to dismiss them if they should come. After all, as a Musketeer, I should fear nothing. Yet, this time, I had to make sure it really was just a nightmare. I'm quite relieved to see it is..."
"D'Artagnan..."
He didn't miss the hitch in his friend's voice. Albert was the bravest of them all, D'Artagnan knew, so the nightmare must really have caused a significant amount of distress for the diminuitive man. He shifted closer before pulling him into a warm embrace.
He felt safe and was glad for the physical proof that his nightmare really had been just that. He returned the embrace, his ear pressed against the brun's chest. He smiled slightly and let out a near-silent sigh as he felt himself finally relax.
"I'm not going anywhere for a long time. You have my word," the older male whispered.
"I vow the same, my dear friend," Albert murmured.
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After ten minutes, the reassuring embrace finally broke. D'Artagnan rose to his feet. "I should probably get back to bed." He was about to take a step forward, but felt the back of his nightwear being gripped. He turned back.
Albert's eyes were focused towards the floor; he was thankful the light tinge of pink in his cheeks could not be seen in the waning light. "I feel childish for asking, but can you please stay here for tonight? I know we already sorted out that the nightmare really was just that, but I still feel uneasy," he whispered. His voice was a mixture of shame and pleading.
He smiled sadly and nodded. "Very well then." He waited until Albert was under the covers before he used his breath to extinguish the tiny flame lighting the room. He then joined his small friend under the blankets.
"Thank you for this, D'Artagnan. This isn't at all awkward for you, is it?"
"Not at all." He wasn't lying; he and the Three Musketeers sometimes slept in dogpiles when not in their own beds, if not sharing a blanket when camping out during a mission. "Good night, Albert."
"Good night, D'Artagnan."
Aside from the routine disruption of a man's loud voice in the distance screaming the time, followed closely by a splash, the youngest Musketeers slept well, free from nightmares and safe in the knowledge that the other would be there when they woke at dawn.
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After-notes: Alright, so the prompt was basically one person is trying to wake the other, but instead of them being somewhere safe and cozy, it was on a battlefield and the other was...well, you can guess. That prompt called to me, but all things considered, I prefer writing such in nightmare scenarios. I then felt like I had to write it being a mutual nightmare.
Thanks for reading! You don't have to review, but if you do choose to say something, please don't flame. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, of course.