An Overheard Secret
Summary: Athos overhears a secret and doesn't like what he hears.
A/N: Written for the Fete des Mousquetaires contest (#2 – "There is no friendship that cares about an overheard secret." – Alexandre Dumas). Check out the forum to vote and perhaps even participate in the next round.
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"What makes you so certain you will even make into the Musketeer's Regiment?"
Athos roused a bit from his drunken stupor as the question filter through the general din and piqued his curiosity. After scanning the surrounding throng, his gaze settled on a pair of young pups approaching the table next to the one at which he sat.
"What makes you doubt it?" asked one of the pups—a scruffy-looking lad that looked enough like trouble that Athos, also, wondered why the lad was so certain of a place with the Musketeers.
The other pup—a fresh-faced youth with a country boy appearace that looked more the part of a Musketeer hopeful than his companion—replied, "The Musketeers are all about skill and honor, aren't they?"
Athos smirked. That one has definitely heard too many fanciful tales of heroism and valor.
"So, what of it?" responded the scruffy pup.
"Well," answered the fresh-faced pup with apparent hesitation, "um…well, you're not much of either." Athos nearly chuckled as the remark earned the pup a swat upside the head from his scruffy companion. "What was that for?" the youth complained. "It's true, as you well know. You couldn't hit the broadside of a barn with a musket, even a rifled one, and my little sister can best you side on her worst day."
Athos grinned at that. This is getting entertaining!
"So?" countered the scruffy pup. "I have just not had a lot of practice; I'm sure I'll get plenty once I'm part of the Regiment."
The fresh-faced pup scoffed. "I still don't see how you think you're going to manage it," he declared. "Even if you are able to talk your way past your questionable fighting skills...ow!"
The scruffy pup has some skill in well-placed kicks beneath the table, anyway, Athos mused, with another smirk.
"See, that's just what I'm getting at!" growled the fresh-faced pup.
"What?" grunted the scruffy pup.
"We both know that you don't have a history of being particularly honorable…" answered the fresh-faced pup.
"Doesn't matter," laughed the scruffy pup, as a bottle of wine arrived at their table.
"What do you mean, it doesn't matter?" asked his friend, incredulously.
"I have an ace up my sleeve," sneered the scruffy pup in response, as he poured out two cups of wine.
When his companion merely lifted an eyebrow in response, Athos found himself mirroring the action. What sort of ace could the pup have that would make him so confident?
"You remember Lord Rene?" asked the scruffy pup, and Athos sat up straighter as the hairs on the back of neck began to rise.
"Don't call him that!" scolded the fresh-faced pup. "It's disrespectful!"
"What's his father going to do to us now, anyway," countered the scruffy pup. "We are much too far out of his jurisdiction."
"It's still disrespectful," reiterated his companion, though it seemed more of whine to Athos's ears. The scruffy pup just waved his hand dismissively. "Besides, what does Rene have to do with anything?"
The scruffy bark let out a bark of ominous laughter than made Athos shudder. "What does Rene have to do with anything?" he sneered. "He had EVERYTHING to do with it. He IS a Musketeer, and a famed one from all we've heard. You think he can't get me in, if he wants to?"
"I'm sure he could," agreed fresh-face. "But why would he want to? Even he hasn't heard about all your exploits, he still knows your family, and that association alone hardly recommends you."
The scruffy pup let out another bark of laughter, before leaning in close and replying in a hushed, sinister tone, "He'll want to because I know why he left Herblay."
Athos, too, had leaned in close to hear and a shudder ran up his spine. What could this kid know that he thinks would give him so much power over Aramis?
It was the fresh-faced pup's turn to scoff. "What does his leaving have to do with anything? We went off seeking adventure, everyone knows that."
Scruffy shook his head. "That's the story his family told, but it's not the real reason." He paused for a surreptitious glance around the room in case of listening ears, and Athos dropped his eyes down to his drink, certain he appeared drunk enough to escape notice. Sure enough, the pup started up again, smugly, "He murdered a girl, and his father sent him away before anyone could start asking too many question."
Athos bit back a growl, along with the urge to jump up and throttle the kid. I should wait to hear where this goes.
The fresh-faced pup's brow furrowed deeply. "Murder?" he stammered. "No, he wasn't that sort of fellow."
The scruffy pup smirked. "How would you know? You hardly knew him?"
"I know of him," countered his companion. "I saw him around, and he wasn't the sort that was violent. He was a charmer, not a killer."
Scruffy scoffed again. "A charmer! Exactly!" Fresh-faced raised a brow. "Got the poor girl pregnant, he did," explained the scruffy pup. "And then she went off and told his father, who arranged a marriage to save the family's reputation, but Rene… Well, you see, Rene had a simpler solution; one that didn't involve tying himself down to some clinging waif." He waggled his eyebrows insinuatingly.
"He murdered her?" replied Fresh-face, dubiously.
Scruffy nodded and, with a smirk, added, "Baby an all!" Downing his cup, he laughed, "So you see, he'll help me out… Ain't going to want that bit of information getting around and sullying that image of his."
Athos bristled. Even if it were true—which it isn't! Athos assured himself—but even if it were, they all had pasts that were none of anyone's business! Whatever he might have been before, the Aramis Athos knew was honorable and loyal and too valiant a Musketeers to have this upstart trouble-maker smearing his good name. Rising to his feet, Athos strode over and shoved hard against the scruffy pup.
"You watch your mouth around here, pup!" he growled as scruffy pup glared up at him.
"What's your problem, old man!" huffed Scruff, starting to rise to his feet. Before he reached them, a large arm wrapped around Athos shoulders, pulling him away.
"Excuse, my friend, here," Porthos asked, all politeness and courtesy. "He's been in his cups all night, and he starts looking for trouble when that happens…"
Scruffy looked ready to charge, but he backed down as Porthos puffed up to his full size. "No harm done," he finally said dismissively, and turned his attention back to his cup as Porthos pulled Athos toward the door.
"What was that about?" Aramis asked, as met the door in the street outside. Athos replied with a glare and matching scowl. "What?" Aramis reiterated.
"Nothing," murmured Athos, letting his gaze drop. Whatever the truth of the matter, its Aramis's business.
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Athos was relieved when they were met at the garrison the next morning with orders to escort the queen on her annual pilgrimage. As pleasant as it would have been to have met the scruffy pup at the gates and throttled him, that approached wouldn't have prevented the kid from spreading his rumors or trying to use the threat of them against Aramis.
Yes, being away from Paris is what's best for all of us, Athos reminded himself, as he stared out over the lake. Now if only we had more to do that stand around idly…
Having nothing to distract his mind made it difficult for Athos not to ponder the overheard secret and wonder about the truth of it. It's not my business, he reminded himself, for the umpteenth time. Aramis has always left my past alone; I owe him the same respect.
"Come, young d'Artangan, let's take advantage of the time to improve your skills a bit," Athos declared, hoping to distract his mind.
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An attempt on the Queen's life and a harried flight from a band of assassin's later, Athos had quite forgotten the scruffy pup and his rumors. It all returned to his mind abruptly, though, as he strode toward Aramis's position outside Mother Superior's room, intending to check his readiness.
"She fell pregnant, and the marriage was arranged. I was happy. I was in love, and so was she. But then she lost the child, and her father took her away and put her in here. I never saw her again, not until today," he heard Aramis say. There was so much sadness in his friend's voice as he told the tale, that Athos could not doubt Aramis's sincerity. So that is the truth of it, then! I will throttle that pup when next I see him, especially should he try to approach Aramis. Such heartache…turned against him. No, I won't allow it, he resolved, remembering how agonizing it had been to have his own past dredged up not so long ago…
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It was a resolution Athos reaffirmed with grim determination as he raced into the cellar upon hearing shots, only to find Aramis bent over his fallen Isabelle. The anguish that poured from his friend made Athos own heart ache with despair.
It is not the time and place for consolation, he told himself, though, as he resisted the urge to do just that. Our focus, now, must be the Queen; I cannot let either of us become distracted by his past, or overheard rumors. Survive first; there will be time enough to deal with the rest after.
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And survive, they did. After, however, became yet another test of friendship and survival that drove the scruffy pup and his rumors so far from the forefront of Athos's thoughts that they were all but forgotten. Until, one day…
Athos bristled as a scruffy young pup ambled through the gate of garrison. He recognized the face at once and cursed under his breath at the memory of it.
"What?" huffed Porthos, as he turned to see what had upset his friend. "Hey, isn't that…"
"He's nobody," interrupted Athos, before rising to his feet and striding swiftly over to the boy. Blocking the scruffy pup's path, Athos's shoved him back toward the gate. "Find your meal ticket elsewhere, boy!" he growled. "We don't take your kind here."
"My kind?" countered the pup, with a sneer, his gaze flickering over to Porthos and Aramis, still seated at the table—though barely on the edge of those seats, ready as they were to intervene, or assist, as needed—and watching curiously. "Looks to me like 'my kind' fits in quite nicely."
"No, your 'kind' find themselves run through at the point of my sword because they hadn't sense enough to run away when shown the door," Athos barked, one hand wrapping around the hilt of his sword as the other shoved the pup through the gate and out onto the street. Seeing him go for his weapon brought the others to their feet and moving in his direction.
Porthos reached him first, asking, "Trouble?" His hand, too, was on the hilt of his sword.
The scruffy pup, though, simply raised his hands in defeat. "No trouble!" he insisted. "There are other regiments... Maybe the Red Guard…"
"Now there's a fine fit for you," sneered Athos, with a final shove.
Scruffy Pup laughed, as he backed away. Then, with a sneer of his own, he scampered off.
Going to have to keep an eye out for more trouble from him, Athos told himself as he glowered after the kid, until Aramis's voice broke through his fury.
"What was that about?" Aramis asked.
Turning, Athos shook his head, before planting a friendly hand on Aramis's shoulder. "Nothing…just know trouble when I see it."
Aramis quirked his head inquisitively, clearing wanting more of the story behind what they'd had just witnessed. Athos, though, merely smiled and used the hand on Aramis's shoulder to turn his friend back toward the supper table. Aramis hesitated, still, until Athos shoved him playfully, and finally shrugged, and let Athos guide up back to their interrupted meal.
Whatever trouble the future may hold, we'll face it together—each having the other's back, as we always do and always will!