Ok. this is part of the 'Future' series. This goes alongside 'So Near and Maybe Not So Far'. This is my idea of Porthos adapting to his new life and reflecting on his past.

It seems that I will eventually post new ideas about our boys lives after series 3 but the story will be posted in the story of the main charcter's point of view. I have yet to do Athos and D'Artagnan but I am intending to do so at some point.

Thius is set about three months after he went back to the front.

I don't own the Musketeers and I am just borrowing the ideas. Any similarity to other fics is coincidence and all mistakes are mine.

I hope this is enjoyable. :)

Fight for the Respect You Deserve

Porthos is General Du Vallon. He is at the front of the war between France and Spain and commands not only the Musketeer regiment but other forces loyal to the many Dukes of France, who in turn serve the new King. The boy from the Court of Miracles has come a long way.

Porthos was sat in his tent at his desk reading the latest missive from his new First Minister. He can't help but smile as he imagines Aramis in his fine clothes doing his best to run the country! He trusts Aramis to adapt quickly and make his mark on the country though, but the man did always get bored easily! Porthos was glad that the men at his command had taken to him well, which surprised him initially. The musketeers were eager to see their new General as many had known of Porthos' own role in the war. He was a man who had stood and fought on the battlefield, unlike some who just watched as the men beneath them were slaughtered. The men provided by the nobles were clearly sceptical at first but it seemed that Porthos' own legend had quickly passed around the camp. The big man was grateful although it did rather put him on a pedastal.

Porthos leant back in his chair and looked at the papers before him. When he left the Court at eighteen (maybe he had been older as he didn't actually know his birth date) he had tried to find work but eventually found himself in the infantry. They took all sorts but even there he was eyed with suspicion. Many there called him a slave who had no rights and he was picked on for his inability to read and write. At the time he was merely muscle and very few had time for him. He lacked skills in the sword and pistol and was just there to look intimidating.

He hadn't enjoyed his time in the infantry at all. He had been alone and had gotten used to the sneers and jeers that he received. He had wondered whether it was best that he could get and for a time it was. He had been eager to learn to read and write but few had the time for him. His colour had made him an outcast and his size had meant many men talked about him behind his back and that was life.

When it was announced that Captain Tréville of the Musketeer regiment was visiting to look for new recruits due to the tragedy at Savoy, Porthos hadn't been bothered. The commanding officers of the infantry had dismissed him and there was no reason to think that the Captain of the elite regiment in France would look at him either.

Captain Tréville was different as he watched and gave advice to the men he saw. Porthos by chance was taking part in wrestling drills when the Captain wandered by. Instantly Tréville spoke to him as though he was truly a human being and was amiable enough. Porthos didn't get his hopes up as Tréville questioned him about his skills and background. Porthos knew it was over when he confessed that he couldn't read or write. A musketeer would surely require those skills.

Surprisingly Captain Tréville arrived the next day to inform him that he had been chosen as part of the training programme. Due to low numbers he would be catered for but he would have to work hard and prove himself. Tréville also mentioned lessons in reading, writing and numbers while he was training. Porthos found himself accepting the offer and had made his way alongside Tréville to the Musketeer garrison that evening.

It was then he voiced his concerns at having no ability with a sword or pistol.

'Porthos,' Tréville looked him the eye which was rare for those above him. 'I didn't pick you because you are a complete soldier, because you're not.' Porthos hung his head wondering whether Tréville had some other job in mind and he had misunderstood. 'Look at me,' Porthos raised his head. 'I chose you because I believe you can be.'

Even now those words made his throat constrict with emotion. Tréville, God rest him, had believed in him. His skills improved quickly but it was only when he saw another outcast that he truly became the man he is today. Aramis had defended his right to be part of the Musketeer regiment having never spoken to him and quite frankly didn't even seem to notice his colour. The man was clearly broken himself but a lasting friendship ensued as they were drawn to each other.

The other outcast, who drank way too much, Porthos had never expected to know him and yet Athos had surprised him too. Clearly from a noble background Athos hadn't dismissed him at all and though quiet and withdrawn another friendship was born. Together the outcasts became the Inseparables. Aramis and Athos had the patience and time to teach him their preferred weapons of choice, the pistol and sword, and both had helped him in learning to read, write and count. They never showed any type of superiority over him. He was truly grateful for their friendship and could never have hoped for such.

For five years their friendship continued and then a fiery young Gascon walked into the garrison demanding a fight with Athos to the death. They became a quartet as easily as they had become a trio.

'General,' Brujon brought Porthos out of his musings. 'Your horse is ready.'

'Thanks, Brujon,' Porthos watched as Brujon left, the musketeer's youth again bringing his thoughts back to D'Artagnan.

The young Gascon now Captain of the Musketeers, Porthos chuckled to himself. Porthos was very proud of their protégé and the maturity he now conducted himself with. Mind you, Constance would certainly keep him in check! Suddenly, he realised that three of them were now drowning in paperwork while Athos was free. Quite a turnaround.

He got up and left the tent nodding to the men as he walked by and stopping to talk to those he knew by name. He also checked on the wounded who were recovering. He may now be a General but he wasn't going to ignore his comrades and he knew that his concern was appreciated.

He and Brujon set off for the meeting of the Generals in the area to discuss France's tactics against Spain. On the ride he thought about his new wife Elodie who he had left in Paris. They were only just married but he felt strongly about her and received many letters telling him how little Marie was getting on. He remembered how he told D'Artagnan about his desire for a family as they sat trapped by Grimaud and his men. It was something he thought he could never have. Fate had been kind.

Elodie hadn't judged him, been afraid of him or wanted to change him and he had to admit that he did hope to have children of his own with her. However, little Marie was more than enough if that were to never happen. He had his own family along with the brothers that would never leave his heart no matter where they were.

His relationship with Aramis had been hard to reconnect but he had realised that Aramis wouldn't have left him unless he felt it was right. The marksman had realised that being a monk was not for him but Porthos had been scared of losing him again which was why he had acted the way he had. The thought of Aramis behind a desk still made him laugh but his friend was now experiencing a new kind of adventure and Porthos was happy for him.

'You alright Brujon?' Porthos could see the young man shaking slightly and was rather protective of the younger man.

'I'm ok sir,' Brujon replied with a weak, unconvincing smile.

'What's up?'

'Just nervous to meet the other Generals is all,' Brujon looked slightly ashamed at his confession.

'So am I!' Porthos admitted back while Brujon looked confused. 'I'm the newest General and some men don't like the way I look.' Brujon still looked confused, he was so naive.

They rode further until the barn they were meeting in appeared in the distance. They arrived and saw other horses tied up and Porthos quickly entered.

'Who are you?' came the initial question from an older balding man who was wearing a General's uniform.

'I'm General Du Vallon,' Porthos responded. 'You?'

'General Martin,' the other man sniffed and stared curiously at Porthos. 'You must be new.'

'Yes,' Porthos glared back. 'Appointed three months ago by Her Majesty.' The smile he received wasn't warm. Porthos wondered if he would have to endure this discrimination from every General he met.

'Sorry, I'm late,' came a familiar voice.

'General Gleyzon,' Porthos smiled as the man embraced him warmly. 'Didn't know you were coming?'

'Got orders from our new First Minister,' the man replied. He was similarly aged to Porthos and Porthos had a feeling Aramis had arranged this as Porthos had previously mentioned liking the man. They heard a derogatory sigh from Martin.

'You don't like our new First Minister?' Gleyzon asked with a raised eyebrow.

'I met him,' he grumbled. 'I doubt his pretty looks will scare the Spanish and most men like him have no brains whatsoever!'

'Hey,' Porthos growled. 'Aramis was a soldier. A musketeer. He knows what he is doing and he is doing 'is best to end this war!' Porthos was angry at the slight the Martin had made at Aramis and as always would defend him the best he could.

'I found him rather charming and courteous,' Gleyzon said to calm the mood. 'He expressed his sympathy at the troubles at hand and I believed him when he said he would do everything he could to stop the war as quickly as possible. From what I hear the Spanish Ambassador has taken a liking to him.' Porthos smiled slightly as he thought of the many ways Aramis could charm people and how many times the man had stopped a situation escalating while he and Athos wanted blood. Of course, he also managed to escalate situations himself with his retorts.

'Are we expecting anyone else?' Porthos said calmly as he wanted to get on with the business at hand.

'No, I don't believe so,' Martin moved a map onto a table for the men to look at.

They discussed their tactics over three hours and Porthos was glad Gleyzon was there. Both men agreeing with each other more often than not. Being the oldest Martin thought his opinion counted more than theirs but they held firm. Porthos had served under enough incompetent Generals and Martin was a prick. He would point that out to Aramis although there was probably little the First Minister could do.

Finally, the agreement in how to advance was in place and Porthos was glad to be riding back to camp.

Porthos returned to his tent to take stock of the weapon and food supplies they had left and send any requirements to Aramis. Porthos had wanted to return to the front as it never seemed right leaving the war to other men and this was his reward. He smirked to himself as he looked at the mass of paper before him as Brujon appeared again.

'This came for you,' he held the letter out that was written in Aramis' scrawl. This was not official orders as those were labelled to General Du Vallon. This was addressed to Porthos.

Porthos' breath hitched slightly as he felt the ache of the stitches in his side from his ride. He had been injured when he moved to pull a wounded musketeer, Herbert, from the battlefield. A musket ball had glanced his side but he wasn't about to tell Aramis this. The former marksman would order him home immediately and Porthos still had a job to do.

He read the letter and soon found that Aramis was more overwhelmed with paperwork than he was. He also noticed Aramis' mentions of the King that would only seem like he was informing a friend but Porthos could see the paternal pride shining through. His brother was happy at last. Porthos ached to see Elodie and little Marie again as he dwelled for a moment on the little things that he was missing. Aramis had better hurry up with that peace agreement! Apparently, King Phillip had thought his sister would be a pushover but Queen Anne was constantly reminding him that though she was born in Spain her son was the French King. Porthos had even more respect for her as she must be finding it terribly difficult.

He wondered about D'Artagnan and Constance and how they were adapting to their new lives. D'Artagnan had mentioned the idea of children but Porthos wasn't sure that Constance was as set on the idea.

He smiled as thought about Athos and how he was adapting to the idea of fatherhood. Sylvie would surely help him with that. Porthos was glad that his friend had finally found happiness.

He kept reading as Aramis mentioned that D'Artagnan was as stressed as he was and both were pining for the chance to be ordinary musketeers again. Wimps. Aramis finished by telling Porthos that no matter what happened he would have to be back for Christmas. The Queen wanted all of them together for a Christmas meal and that the only the excuse would be for Athos as Sylvie would be too heavily pregnant to travel. Those were Her Majesty's orders!

He opened a bottle of wine and once again mused about how far he had come. Never had he dreamed that he could make it as far as he had. If anything he had shown that fighting for the respect you deserve is the most important thing. If he could achieve such a high status then others could too. There were many bumps in the road but he had showed that it could be done if you were willing to fight. He may be in that fight for the rest of his life but it was far easier when you have people who love you around you. He was lucky and he knew it.

From the Court of Miracles to the battlefield as a General. It had been quite a journey and there was more to come for Porthos Du Vallon.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this and eventually I hope to add Elodie in and the other characters.

Please review to let me know what you think and any ideas you may have. :) Thanks for reading.