The Garrison seemed alive this week, what with the musketeers preparing to spend Christmas with family and comrades alike. Many of the men walked with a spring in their steps, laughing with each other as the Christmas spirit permeated their battle weary souls.
Treville had even allowed some of the younger recruits hang holly and wreaths on their barracks doors, and around the banister to his office, it seemed even the Captain was excited for the seasonal holiday.
One musketeer in particular skipped over to his usual table, whistling a folk song from his previous home in Gascony.
" You seem in a good mood, pup," Porthos commented curiously as the young man sat down next to Athos with a beaming smile on his tan face.
Athos cast his Protégé an inquiring look as Aramis gave him a friendly punch to the arm.
" Constance say something to put you in this good cheer?" Aramis asked cheekily.
D'artagnan feinted an insulted look.
" I don't require Constance's compliments to be happy, do I?"
Aramis and Porthos snorted at his comment, and Athos's usually stern face lifted in a slight smile.
" No, but it certainly helps," Aramis teased around a bite of his apple.
D'artagnan snagged a fresh bread roll and started chewing away, pausing momentarily to answer their earlier question.
" I'm in a good mood because I happen to have some great surprises planned for a certain group of special people in my life," He revealed brightly.
" Why?" Athos asked simply.
D'artagnan almost laughed, but the equally confused looks from his other brothers had him reconsidering. He couldn't believe his brothers could be so blind to what was going on in the garrison, and more importantly, what was coming up at the end of the week.
" Don't you know what Friday is? Of course I have surprises planned for Christmas!" D'artagnan exclaimed, casting them a bewildered look.
At the mention of the impending holiday, the mood at the small wooden table instantly dropped, and his brother's eyes seemed to darken slightly. Athos's frown became more pronounced and his fists curled slightly in his lap, eyes hardening to a stone like intensity. To D'artagnan it seemed as though his mentor and father figure was reliving a terrible memory.
All of his friends seemed to be in the same predicament, Aramis's expression becoming pained and haunted, his skin paling slightly, and Porthos who was usually loving and kind seemed to want to punch someone badly.
" What's wrong with Christmas?" D'artagnan asked innocently, genuine worry for his friends shining in his brown orbs.
" Everything," Athos responded curtly.
" None of us celebrate that holiday," Aramis growled lowly.
As if in unison, his brothers got up from the table and left, going their separate ways for their assigned tasks of the morning, and leaving D'artagnan sitting alone and very much wounded at the table, gazing at them as they left.
Athos had never had a good Christmas since Thomas died and his wife turned out to be a murderer. Ever since he had spent his Christmases in a cheap tavern, drinking win until the pain numbed, and then sleeping the wine's effects off for the remainder of the holiday. He remembered a time before Milady, and Thomas's death when Christmas was his favorite time of the year. When he and Thomas would go and choose a tree together, and romp and play in the wood while hunting for turkeys. When he and Milady would cuddle by the fire together with hot drinks and kiss under the mistletoe at every chance they got.
Those days were gone, and even the mention of Christmas forced his bitterness to the surface again. Seeing D'artagnan so eager for the holiday brought back unwanted memories of Thomas's excited face as unwrapped gifts in their living room, his twinkling eyes as he thanked his brother with a hug of epic proportions.
No, Athos though to himself as he left the table, Thomas is gone, and those days are over.
D'artagnan couldn't understand what was wrong with his brothers, Christmas was the best time of year! Christmas was a time for being with family and friends and having fun, yet it seemed like D'artagnan's dearest friends would not be doing any of those things, at least not with him.
Have I said something wrong? D'artagnan asked himself as Athos, Aramis and Porthos disappeared.
He had to have done something to cause this to have made them remember an obviously painful experience, maybe he could make things right? Maybe he could show his brothers that Christmas was not a time of sadness and pain, but a time of fun and joy.
I have the perfect week planned for you, my brothers.