Many thanks to Tenebrielle for the beta! Apparently, I have AU's on the mind at the moment. Like when I first posted gorecki, I'm still scandalized by how few daemon fics there are because those are 100% my guilty pleasure. As usual, crossposted to Ao3 under the name Meskeet.
All daemon references can be found at the end, just like last time. I do, however, recommend that you read gorecki first because this'll make more sense. It's not strictly necessary, just a suggestion for the ease of reading. Title credit goes to the Bard - as Tenebrielle pointed out, Shakespeare is quite fitting for all manner of Musketeers fic.
go, bid the soldiers shoot
Adalia would have fought when they came for them. Adalia would have ripped d'Artagnan's crow-daemon from the sky, would have torn apart the Cardinal's daemon and the judge's daemon and the carriage driver's daemon, too, given half the chance. Adalia would have fought tooth and claw when they are caged, but Athos knew better.
Adalia enjoys the hunt, but being the prey isn't something she can stand. She hisses at Athos when he approaches her, claws as sharp as daggers slicing through the air as she swipes at him. She catches his wrist, drawing bright beads of blood. Adalia flinches, Athos does not.
"You let them cage us," Adalia cries, tail twice the size it should be as she stalks the confines of the cell. "You let them shackle and collar us like dogs, Athos."
"Adalia," Athos says quietly in reply. The cell presses in on him too – each noise they make echoes and he hushes her as the priest approaches.
"Confess your sins," the man urges them, and his dog daemon – only like Porthos' in species – presses its nose into the bars. Adalia flattens her ears, but acknowledges the greeting with a jerky dip of her head.
"There was a woman," Athos tells the priest, aware of Adalia's low hiss at the words. His daemon has never been one to divulge secrets and it is one of the few places they differ. Still, Athos knows he has to speak. This may be his last chance. "Father, I murdered her."
The priest's reply is useless and empty, some platitude about God always forgiving. Aramis may have been able to believe that, but neither of them can take comfort in the hollow words. Athos' daemon is the one who speaks for them both, giving voice to what Athos cannot.
"There is no forgiveness for us," she says to the priest's daemon, words cutting as sharp as her claws. Athos can see how the realizes settles over her, tail and scruff slowly smoothing to their normal positions. Adalia settles as well, her pacing coming to a halt as Athos sends the priest away. She approaches Athos skittishly, curling against his side like she hasn't in years. It's not the first time that Athos realizes the gulf that's widened between the two of them can be breached. It is, however, the first time they move together to do so.
"That's why you let them take us away," she says quietly, brindled fur melding into the shadows of the dank cell. "Because we deserve it."
Athos slides his fingers through her fur, smoothing out the tangles between the pads of her feet. Athos had entertained the thought long ago – back before he'd joined the Musketeers for the first time, truth be told. Perhaps that had been what created the wall between them long ago. Athos' self-loathing has done a lot of damage over the years.
"We do," he tells Adalia. "But… Porthos and Aramis – Ezria and Zaina. I trust them. If we are to be free, I do not want it to be as fugitives. If our names can be cleared, they will see it through."
"And d'Artagnan and Lynette?" he's not surprised she'd picked up the crow daemon's name. Absentmindedly, Athos rubs the scrapes the daemon had left on Adalia's ears. "Do you trust them as well?"
Athos thinks of the fire he'd sensed – of that unbridled rage turned burning inferno in the pair. It's dangerous, true. Yet Athos also knows what drives the boy's steps, what gives strength to his sword. "Yes, them too," Athos says, because he doesn't have a knife in his back after walking away from d'Artagnan's fight. Adalia burrows her head into his hand, the movement reminding him of the lazy summer days they used to spend with Thomas.
Honor. Athos can trust in honor and what snaps at its heels - and if the boy's honor and the muleheadedness of his friends can not save them, then Athos will accept his fate without a fight.
When the guards come for them, Adalia follows Athos to the firing squad, her tail sweeping low against the earth. There is no dissent between the two of them anyway, not in this moment at least. They'd made their peace, just as they should have long ago. Athos leads the way, aware he can only keep the building fear at bay for so long. Adalia growls behind him, a low strange sound in her throat, but offers no resistance as they affix her chain to the wall.
Leashed like a mutt, Athos reflects quietly as his own wrists are chained to the wall. The panic builds like an avalanche, pressure mounting until it shoots through his veins and his blood at the sound of the order.
"Aim."
Like a drop of water hitting a bucket filled to the brim, Athos feels that driving sorrow, that destructive desire to feel something give well to the surface.
"Shoot, damn you!" he roars, and for a brief moment he feels… free. The cawing of a crow gives him a shred of hope, but it is no daemon he hears, for the bird leaves its post to take flight.
Athos has made his peace. He glances down at Adalia, at the way she stands proudly by his feet. Athos briefly wishes he could stroke her fur, but there is no moving from these chains. She must share his same desire, for her tail sweeps across his thigh.
They are ready, the both of them. They have spoken of their sins at long last and this is their comeuppance.
"Hold your fire!" the unexpected salvation comes before the death knell. Aramis smirks even as he steps between the soldiers and Athos, Zai close at his feet. "I wouldn't be in such a hurry to die, if I were you." Zai huffs at that, but says nothing Athos can overhear. He watches how she approaches Adalia cautiously, as though she expects Adalia to lash out at her.
He's not quite sure what he should feel. Confusion, shock – but mostly relief. "I thought I'd finally shaken you two off," Athos tells them, throat clenching at the realization of how suddenly, desperately, he wants a drink in his hand.
"Believe me, there are easier ways," Porthos cuts in, never to be outdone when it came to wit. Adalia chuffs, but Athos looks past him, nodding at d'Artagnan who lurks at a distance.
Honor, Athos thinks. Honor saved him, just as it doomed him once before. Adalia slinks to his side when she's freed, and Athos watches her until she feels his gaze and looks up.
They share the same stance – wary, waiting for the axe to fall, and expectant of a double-cross at any moment. Athos and Adalia have long learned that good must always be accompanied by bad. But his daemon does relax slightly when Ezria gives her ruffled fur a calming lick.
Honor, Athos thinks again, watching d'Artagnan's crow mock one of the soldier's daemons. The wolf growls at the bird, giving a half-hearted snap when it comes too close. It is a sword that can cut both ways.
It there's one good thing that comes from his near-execution, it's that they seem to have picked up a new member of their happy band.
"It was the least we could do, really," Athos growls, drinking the passable ale.
Adalia twitches her ears, and although the innkeep doesn't seem happy about her place on the table, he doesn't dare approach them. Athos is just glad she's grown past the days of lurking in the shadows.
"The nearly dying, the giving d'Artagnan his revenge, or the refusal to let a priest hear our true sins?" Adalia scolds him. Of course, Adalia no longer hiding means she's free to chide him in public.
Athos sips his ale, the taste like ash in his mouth. "You know what I mean."
She looks away carefully, laying her head on her paws. "We wanted to die," she says with a sigh.
Athos mulls over her words carefully, turning them over in his mind. Yes, she is correct – to some extent. While Athos certainly hadn't been chasing after his death, they hadn't exactly resisted when it came.
"We deserve it," he says, and that is also true.
"You panicked there at the end," Adalia hisses and Athos is surprised at the anger in her voice. "We are not rats to be hunted and cornered. We are no man's prey, Athos. We are the hunters."
Athos glances sharply at her, can see the way she bristles ever so slightly. "Some enemies we cannot hunt," he replies in kind. "Some we should not hunt."
Adalia looks at him, and there's that same coldness in her eyes that he's seen only a few times before. The only movement Adalia allows is a slow, frustrated sweep of her tail.
"Honor, Athos," she reminds him. "We can fight anyone for our honor."
Athos thinks about her, thinks about her life and her death, and the blood and lies she spilled with ease at the end.
"But where will that lead?" he asks, because they never asked it before. They could not ask it before, caught up in the throes of grief and rage and loneliness as they had been before.
And Adalia replies, but it's not him she looks at – it's Porthos and Ezria, Aramis and Zaina, and yes, even d'Artagnan and Lynette.
"Where it must," she says, as coolly as before, as certain as she ever is. And there's no other answer left, because that's the only answer she has ever been able to give.
It's all they will ever have – honor, and the path that follows.
Honor, and the men that will help them seek to attain it.
Zaina: fox (the reference I'm using for her is an island fox. Zaina means "beautiful". Foxes are often associated with cunning and quick, decisive action.
The model I'm using for Ezria (meaning "help") is a canario. Dogs are associated with traits such as fidelity, loyalty, resourcefulness, intelligence. More specifically, canario's are often used as guard dogs.
Adalia - "Noble". I'm using a serval as my reference. Their legs are ridiculously long for their bodies, and they jump high and run fast. However, you'd never find a fully grown serval small enough to balance on a shoulder, as far as I know. So Adalia's a bit of a mongrel, as far as cats go, just like Athos, as a nobleman and a soldier, is a bit of a mongrel as well. Cats are associated with patience, independence, intelligence - but are also secretive.
Thanks for reading! I certainly hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it.