I know it's a little late for a Christmas themed story, but it's still December :)
"Joyeux Noel, monsieur."
"Joyeux Noel."
Porthos traipsed back to the garrison, his hat in his hands. It had truly been an exhausting day. The King had decided, three days before Christmas Eve, that he wished to organise three lavish parties on the day, hosting most of the nobility of Europe. Of course, the King tasked the Musketeers with providing for these guests, so the whole regiment had been swept off its feet.
Porthos had known that none of his brothers were particularly enjoying the Christmas season. Aramis, as well as being swept up in the duties that had been dealt to the regiment, had become quiet, the memory of Savoy fresh in his mind after Marsac's death. Athos had become withdrawn, just as he did at this time every year. D'Artagnan had been quiet as well, but Porthos suspected that had something to do with spending a first Christmas without his father.
So, being the only one in high spirits, he had done the honourable thing. Knowing that Athos, Aramis and d'Artagnan had been given three separate shifts, (Athos guarding the morning festivities, Aramis escorting the Duchess of Angouleme to the midday soirée and d'Artagnan accompanying the King to the evening feast) he had taken them all onto himself, rising before the sun did to complete the first task. However, the festivities lasted a lot longer than had been arranged, so that it was unclear when the first finished and the next began. He had been given the task of accompanying the King and Queen to Midnight Mass at Notre Dame, which meant that his tasks had not finished until Mass was done.
Which was how he found himself traipsing back to the garrison at one in the morning on Christmas Day, his stomach empty, his throat dry, freezing and in dire need of a good night's sleep. The snow that had begun falling at some point during the evening feast now coated a large proportion of the ground, and of Porthos himself. He truly had never been so glad to see the stone arch of the garrison.
His room in the garrison was located on the ground floor, just next to Aramis'. Was there a light on in his room?
Had he really been so careless as to leave a candle burning by itself throughout the day? He had been sure that he had extinguished all the candles when he had left in the morning. He opened the door to his room, flinging his hat on the bed and stepped over to the candle, extinguishing it.
But there was too much wax left for the candle to have been burning all day. He picked up his hat and placed it on the chair, ruffling the present that had been hidden beneath his hat.
A present? Porthos turned back.
There was a present sitting on his bed. A present. It was wrapped in elegant blue paper, with a golden bow and a blue tag. He ran his hand gently over the smooth wrapping.
He turned over the tag.
Thank you and Joyeux Noel, Porthos
And smiled.