A/N: This episode left me feeling so emotionally high-strung I couldn't sleep for 14 hours after watching it, jeeez it was so intense! I just had to write this scene (finally it happened!) and although I'm not completely satisfied with it, I don't think it'll get any better. Trying to get inside Porthos' jumbled mind when my own emotions were skyrocketing proved to be quite difficult - surprising, huh?
Disclaimer: I don't own the Musketeers, the characters, or the major part of the dialogue in this story.
The only reason Porthos didn't immediately react to Athos' monotonous statement was that he was sure he must've misheard him.
Aramis slept with the Queen.
He wanted to laugh at how ridiculous such an implication was, but found himself choking on it when he looked over at Athos.
There was no humor in those blue eyes.
No.
Porthos shook his head slightly. It didn't matter that he knew Athos would never lie about such a thing, because he had to be wrong. Aramis would have told him.
He would have told me.
But when he turned to look at his friend and dark brown eyes filled with regret and guilt and shame met his own, and he knew it was true. His tongue turned thick as cotton in his mouth. Emotions, too many to even try to identify, were raging inside him but his mind was curiously devoid of any thought.
It was Treville that asked the question that Porthos himself failed to formulate.
"You're not serious," he said disbelievingly, staring at Aramis.
Aramis glanced at the Captain, "Would you joke about such a thing?" His whole demeanor radiated defeat and weariness, dislodging Porthos' tongue.
"How? When?" He hardly recognized his voice, low, husky and dark with suppressed emotion.
Aramis' eyes flickered over to him briefly before darting away.
"At the convent, when her life was… threatened," he said, finally.
Porthos took a deep breath, trying to control the beast that wanted to claw its way out of his chest and punch his friend in the face, "Why didn't you tell us?"
Why didn't you tell me?
"I had to protect the Queen's reputation," was the immediate answer.
"You could have done that by not sleeping with her," d'Artagnan said, and Porthos didn't know if he wanted to strangle Aramis or laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
"There's more," Athos' solemn voice effectively cut through his inner turmoil.
Aramis stared up at the ceiling and, going for levity but failing miserably, he said, "The Dauphin might be my son… is, my son."
And Porthos snapped.
Three long strides and he had Aramis pinned against the wall, the words that had started spilling over his lips turning into a growl; rage mixing with hurt and all the curled up anger he had not wanted to acknowledge finally given free reign.
You pushed me away for months!
Porthos could see his own pain clearly mirrored in Aramis' eyes; the wall that had been between them for over a year finally having crumbled, and his fury was suddenly hauled back as quickly as it had burst free. There was no denying the anguish in Aramis' eyes, remorse rolling off of him with such intensity it almost knocked Porthos over and despite everything, despite the hurt and anger and betrayal that were burning in his stomach, Porthos couldn't bear to see that expression on his brother's face.
He dragged him into a fleeting hug, not knowing whether he was seeking comfort or giving it.
Then he was pushed away by Treville, who started yelling at Aramis without a trace of his usual composure. When Athos added that Rochefort knew, Porthos sat down heavily on the bed, numbness leaking into his very core.
"Then there's nothing, any of us can do about it!" Treville exclaimed forcefully.
"There might be something," Athos said, faint reluctance coloring his voice and something in his cerulean blues that Porthos couldn't quite read.
Apparently, d'Artagnan was far more perceptive.
"You can't be serious," he said, eyes widening in disbelief. "We can't trust her!"
"I do believe we have run out of options," Athos responded evenly, though there was no mistaking the underlying tension to his voice. He turned to the Captain. "If you will both come with me, gentlemen." The sharp look he threw d'Artagnan cut off any attempted objection.
Porthos stayed motionless on his position on the bed, staring ahead and barely registering the glance Athos threw his and Aramis' way.
"Meet us at the Palace in one hour. Service entrance, east wing."
Porthos thought he gave a slight nod, but he wasn't sure. Either way, Athos turned and subtly but firmly ushered the other two men from the room; the occasional curse still falling from Treville's mouth.
Silence roamed for so long it was almost deafening him, and then there was a quiet, almost tentative, "Porthos…"
And Porthos realized that he couldn't stay there anymore. In one stiff motion, he rose from the bed and went after the others, forcing himself not to look at his friend as he passed him. There was a tightness in his chest that threatened to choke him if he didn't get out.
He came all the way to the terrace before he heard Aramis shuffle after him.
"Porthos, wait." But he kept walking, hand closing around the railing next to the stairs.
"Porthos, please."
Despite himself, he stopped, clenched hands shaking with repressed emotion.
"I'm sorry," Aramis said, and the raw devastation in his voice cut through Porthos like a knife.
He sighed and ran a hand down his face; all the tension draining from him and leaving nothing but a hollow ache in his chest. He leaned against the railing as his friend came up next to him.
"Christ, Aramis…" he breathed, unable to finish the sentence, for what could he really say?
You slept with the Queen.
You lied to me for months.
You have a child.
You lied to me.
Aramis raised his arms in a defeated gesture.
They stood silently for a moment, both staring intently at the wooden stairs, before Aramis took a deep breath.
"I never meant to keep any secrets from you…" he said, voice low. "But you must understand why I had to."
There was thinly veiled desperation there, begging for Porthos to understand, but Porthos couldn't bear to look at him. He wanted to punch him and hug him all at once because, God help him, he did understand. Aramis was truly sorry about the situation he had put them all in, but Porthos wasn't so naïve as to think his friend felt any regret about not telling him. Brothers or not, it was who he was; compassionate and protective and self-sacrificing when it came to those he loved and, although the thought sent daggers into his heart, Porthos understood why Aramis had kept it from him because he knew Aramis.
It hurt more than any wound.
But he understood.
A/N: Like I said, don't know if I'm entirely pleased with this - there were so many alternative directions one could take. Either way, this is what we have to settle with!
So, what did you think about the episode? Was the reveal everything you'd hoped for? Any hopes, fears, expectations about the season finale? :)
/Linguam