A/N: Just an age note for d'Artagnan. I'm going with the fact that he's about twenty at the time he left for Paris with his father and when he left to return to Gascony at the start of this story.
Three years ago…
He slipped around the back of the barn, deftly avoiding the old man on watch who passed by with a creaking lantern. He kid in the brush for another five minutes to be absolutely sure no one would come after the old man before darting through an opening in the back of the Machart's barn. Almost immediately upon crossing the threshold there were hands on him, pinning him up against the back wall and covering his lips. He didn't struggle. He listened. A stable boy was busy cleaning and locking up for the night.
Charles and Henri watched from the shadows as the stable boy finally took his lantern from the peg of the center post and exited the barn, pulling the stable doors closed and fixing the lock into place. They waited until they could no longer hear footsteps. Then Henri took his hand away from Charles' mouth. Henri gripped the underside of his jaw and buried his nose into Charles' neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses up toward his ear.
"Do you think you can be quiet," Henri rasped in Charles' ear.
"You know I can't make those kind of promises," Charles replied.
Henri groaned and wrenched himself away.
Charles followed.
They carefully and quietly climbed to the loft. Henri started to clear a section toward the back from the hay, but Charles grabbed his hips from behind. Henri stilled, feeling Charles' arousal just grace the underside of his breeches. Henri was a head taller than the d'Artagnan boy, and a few years older, which never ended well when it came to teasing. Ever since he has his first heat, he has yearned for the boys affections, desperate to commit the theta's scent to memory and to claim it, if he could. He had heard a theta's scent could never be claimed, that all others scents, even an alpha's, eventually yielded to the corruptive power of a theta's.
And it only took a single night of Charles' heating cycle to understand why.
Charles tugged the edges of Henri's shirt out of his breeches. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
Henri bent forward a little bit and reached to grab Charles between his own legs. "I thought you liked it rough?"
Charles tried to stifle a moan of his own, but Henri caught it before the boy gained control of himself. "Not all the time."
Henri released Charles and turned around to face him. "So, what do you want?"
"It's your cycle. What do you want of me?"
"You're just as close to starting your own. Maybe we can give it a little encouragement tonight?"
Charles smirked at him in the dark. "You can try."
After that, they were a hot tangle of limbs, lost in the hay, and in each other, like all the nights before.
"The man who confronted you," Aramis commented from the window. "Did you say his name was Stephen Machart?"
"Yes," d'Artagnan replied. "His family supported mine throughout my childhood. Our fathers served together in Paris for a time. But after Henri died… everything was different."
"Was Henri Stephen's brother," Athos asked.
d'Artagnan nodded. "Stephen worshipped him."
Porthos leaned forward, his arms propped up on his legs. "Had Stephen ever threatened you or your father before?"
"Never," the Gascon said shaking his head.
Aramis made a noncommittal noise as he shifted his weight against the wall by the window. "I knew a Machart in my days with the priesthood. Met his family right before I left and joined the guard. They were all quite soft-spoken. I was a little surprised when you told me his name. That scent anyone would recognize from a mile away."
"All of us smelled it riding up the road and hoped we were wrong," Porthos recounted. "Bit surprised seeing him after all that. Wouldn't have pegged that little shit for a sig."
d'Artagnan frowned. "A what?"
"A sigma," Athos explained. "People typically are not born into that distinct inclination, as I doubt Stephen was, but the anger we felt was quite worrisome. It was clear it had been brewing for a long time."
"I thought… I thought there were only ever alphas and omegas," D'Artagnan said. "And that others were…well, wishful thinking."
Aramis snickered. "Is that what they teach you children down here?"
"Perhaps that is indeed how things are taught here in the south," Athos said. "That is not for us to judge."
"It is if it's bloody wrong and stupid," Porthos exclaimed. "Just because Aramis ain't like you or me don't mean he doesn't exist!"
Aramis turned to face Porthos with an affronted look at being so casually outted. "Thank you!"
"Oh," Porthos said with a faint blush. "Sorry, mate."
D'Artagnan turned to Aramis in surprise. "You're not an alpha?"
"Heavens, no," he said with a smirk. "I prefer to walk the middle line and experience pleasures from both walks of life. I am a beta."
"But you two," D'Artagnan asked of Athos and Porthos. "You're both alphas?"
Both men nodded.
"Is that all there are, then? Alphas, Omegas, Betas…and Sigmas?"
Aramis smiled at him. "Oh to be so innocent once again."
D'Artagnan glared. "Most wouldn't call it innocent."
Athos interjected. "We can hardly blame you. You came from the country, where everything is conditioned to be black and white, and no doubt easier to manage out here. City life is much different, and more difficult to adjust to with so many different inclinations in such a crowded place as Paris. Surely you smelled the diversity?"
d'Artagnan sat back, crossing his arms and telling himself it was for warmth. "Like I said, wishful thinking."
"I trust you see that is no longer so," Athos asked.
"Obviously," the boy replied with a faint blush of embarrassment. "What else are there?"
"Gammas. A few Epsilons if you know where to look," Porthos said with a wink. "But things are always changing, like people do. Sometimes people can be two inclinations at the same time. Haven't come across many, but it happens. Just not out in the open."
"We're all on the spectrum," Aramis said claiming a seat next to Porthos. "It's just a bigger spectrum than you've been led to believe. Which is also why I left the church years ago. They can be terribly naïve about a lot of things."
"I thought you used to say they were simply traditionalists," Athos asked.
"Was I not just as kind just now?"
Athos smirked.
"Come to think of it," Aramis mused. "That may have accounted for your occasional headaches, especially if you're unbound."
d'Artagnan glared at Aramis. "Whether I'm bound or not is my own business."
Aramis held up his hands in apology. "I'll apologize again if you desire it."
d'Artagnan sighed. "No, it's all fine."
"You are entitled to your own privacy," Athos began with hardening eyes. "But I do not believe you were ever open with us about much of anything beyond your name and home. Regardless, we trusted you. I trusted you. You saved our lives countless times and we have saved yours. Personally, I would very much like to know why you thought it prudent to run away from your forthcoming commission. It did not come directly from the king, but you knew it was imminent after receiving his praise. Treville was not subtle."
d'Artagnan had no answer.
"You've claimed to be an alpha. Fleeing from your accomplishments and friends does not strike me as part of your nature, nor of any alphas I have ever met. In fact, given all the excitement we've experienced since you barreled into our lives, I would wager you are something else entirely."
D'Artagnan swallowed, impulsively wanting to run right that second so he wouldn't see his world come crashing down around him. Athos held his gaze in a vice-like grip, searching him, challenging him, and urging him to say it himself, but d'Artagnan couldn't bring himself to.
"You're a theta," Athos whispered. "Aren't you?"
D'Artagnan couldn't answer. His jaw had clenched shut and he didn't dare look any of them in the eyes when they realized he had lied to them all.
"Well, that explains a lot," Aramis whispered lightly.
"Just a bit," Porthos bit out in frustration and disappointment.
"Why didn't you tell us," Athos asked.
"You know what I am," D'Artagnan snapped, getting to his feet and challenging Athos with a glare of his own. "You should know why I said nothing! Thetas don't live long past maturity, that's a fact, whether you're country-bred or city-born. If I'm going to die, I'd rather do it with a sword in my hand than wait for it to take me in my sleep or drag anyone else down with me."
"Is that what you're doing out here," Athos asked, calmly and a bit cold. "Protecting us by leaving? Running headlong into another problem just to avoid the truth?"
D'Artagnan looked away and put distance between himself and his friends. "You're an alpha. You never have to live in fear for the trouble you cause just by breathing the same air as others."
"That's a bloody falsehood," Aramis started.
"You're not even an alpha," d'Artagnan snapped.
"Even alphas know what it's like to be judged, d'Artagnan," Porthos warned. "Don't go there."
"None of you understand what it's like to live with Theta blood nor all the baggage that comes with it."
"We're still here, aren't we," Aramis pointed out.
"For now."
"Why is that your answer every God damned time we reach out to you," Athos exploded, getting to his own feet and confronting the stubborn Gascon. "What else do we need to do to prove to you that what you are does not matter?"
"What I am has mattered every single day that's passed since my birth. What I am needs to matter, Athos. But for the right reasons."
Athos backed down, but did not move away. Instead he reached into his doublet and pulled out d'Artagnan's commission papers, offering them to him. The Gascon didn't take them, but stared with hungry eyes. Aramis stood and crossed to Athos' side, followed closely by Porthos who took up the other side.
"Treville knows," Aramis said softly. "And he still gave us orders to bring you back."
"He called you one of his best," Porthos added. "Captain don't make statements like that likely. And he's right. You are one of the best. He doesn't discriminate. He never has."
"What about the king," d'Artagnan whispered, finally voicing one of his bigger fears. "I would rather not wake up one morning to the hangman's noose for simply doing my duty."
"That may be the Cardinal's prerogative," Aramis answered. "But it certainly isn't ours, Treville's, or the king's. He's distanced himself quite a bit from his father's reign, and France has flourished under it. He's popular because of it. To continue the witch hunts of his father's time would be political suicide."
d'Artagnan frowned. "He hasn't publically voiced his support."
Aramis held up a finger. "But he hasn't denounced anything either. That is how politics work. And Louis is much sharper than most give him credit for."
"Nothing will come against you without first coming through us," Athos vowed.
d'Artagnan looked down at his feet. "You can't promise that…"
"You said yourself you would rather die with a sword in your hand," Athos reminded him, prodding the commission papers into d'Artagnan's chest. "Wouldn't you rather die with the king's sword in your hand than your own?"
d'Artagnan slowly took the commission papers. He felt the weight of the thick papers in his hands, weighing his options. To his surprise, Porthos clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"If it's Stephen you're thinking about, don't," the big man said. "We don't abandon friends, no matter what."
"It's true," Aramis said, laying his hand on the boy's other shoulder. "And if you need examples, we have plenty to share. Several years worth!"
d'Artagnan was silent, torn between grasping onto the offer like a drowning man and running in the complete opposite direction. He could not fathom being so selfish, to endanger such rare friends like this for his own sake. An outright refusal was on his lips when Athos grabbed his wrist.
"I know it is not something you are used to. But you have no need to protect us. We are seasoned soldiers with our own demons that we have dealt with for years. And over the years, much has been added to the weight. One more will certainly not break our backs, especially if it is shared among four. Let us help you. Let us continue to train you. Let your barriers down for now and let us help you rebuild them."
d'Artagnan hadn't felt such sincerity since before his mother died. And it struck him as he stared into Athos' eyes that he had, once more, what he had lost so suddenly with his father's death. He had a family again. A circle of protection, security, and warmth. He had what he had always dreamed of in his youth. Brothers. He chalked the unshed tears up to being near his next heat cycle, and closed his eyes before they started a waterfall. He dropped his head to hide them, but knew it was useless. All three hands on him tightened. Then he nodded, unable to speak.
But Athos was unyielding. He put a gentle hand on the back of d'Artagnan's neck and urged him to look up. "Say it. Out loud."
Once he got his breathing under control, d'Artagnan was able to finally choke the words out. "I accept."When he dared look up at Athos, the man had on a rare smile. The sight of it struck right at the core of d'Artagnan's heart and sent tingles all across his body.
"Welcome back, brother," Athos said.
Aramis and Porthos echoed the same. After that, Aramis and Porthos disappeared upstairs. Porthos to bed and Aramis to the first watch. d'Artagnan was about to follow them, but Athos held him back.
"Treville asked that we deliver this to you as well," he said, handing d'Artagnan a sealed letter.
The boy looked at the seal and frowned, not recognizing it. He broke it and opened the letter, shocked into stillness by what he found. Athos hovered, concern drifting off him in waves.
d'Artagnan swallowed past a lump in his throat. "This is my father's handwriting…"
"Do you want me to stay?"
"I'll be fine."
Athos narrowed his eyes, but with gentle intent, at him. "I will be in the next room when you're finished. You will have your privacy. Then you will come and sit with me by the fire if you wish it. Don't ignore us when we're here for you. We came all this way not out of obligation to Treville. You're one of us, and no matter what you or the world tries to do, you always will be."
d'Artagnan nodded, for once in a long time feeling the truth behind the declaration and the truth of his own sincerity in accepting it. Athos left him by the stairs and d'Artagnan sat down on the bottom step as he began to read by his forgotten candle.
Charles, I have entrusted this to Jean in the chance that I am not able to be there for you myself. There is only one manner in which I suspect I could not be present for such an occasion as this, and if so I am sorry. Your mother was better with words than I. And if she were to see this day I wonder if perhaps once she would be silenced with happiness. You have been and always will be our whole world. This was always to be the plan, you entering the ranks of the military elite under Jean's tutelage. He is familiar with your type of inclination. You are not the first and have no need to fear discovery.
I hope we are entering a new age with this new king, one in which people are celebrated for their differences instead of being persecuted. If it is not so, I charge you here and now to be that day's champion. Your mother and I have taught you so since your birth and expect no less. Take this commission with pride, because this day vindicates everything your mother and I fought for, for you, for our friends, and for those who do not have a voice. It will not be an easy road, and as a parent I feel no guilt asking this of you because I know in my soul that you will have much success. Your mother and I will always be with you and shall always love you.
A house is a house, but a home is a home. If ever you find yourself destitute, remember that true and honest hearts are all you will ever need. –Your proud father
d'Artagnan had only cried with the last few sentences. But the tears that came through were not of sadness. His father had known something like this would come to pass. Perhaps it had in some sense been inevitable and because of d'Artagnan's naivety under his father's protection he had been too blind to see it. But now he understood. And if anything, though his face was wet again by the time he joined Athos by the fire, he was most certainly not sad. His father's letter had lit a fire in him again, a fire of determination.
Athos gave him another smile.
They returned to Paris late in the evening. When they entered the garrison, Treville's office was dark. All four men dismounted, stabled their own horses and left for the evening, agreeing to reconvene first thing in the morning. Aramis and Porthos left for their own lodgings, and d'Artagnan started to climb the stairs to an empty room at the garrison. d'Artagnan could have gone to the Bonacieux's and asked for his old room back, but it was in the middle of the night and he had already left a note telling Constance he was moving back to Gascony. He wasn't looking forward to the tongue-lashing he'd get from her when she caught wind that he'd come back.
He was in the middle of planning his defense for the inevitable meeting when someone cleared their throat behind him. d'Artagnan was startled, but didn't show it when he turned around and found Athos right behind him. As Treville's lieutenant, Athos had a room set aside, but rarely used it unless he was sick or injured. The fact that he didn't return to his lodgings outside the garrison meant he didn't plan on drowning himself in drink, which for some odd reason made d'Artagnan feel hopeful.
"You may not welcome it," Athos began. "But if you ever find yourself in need of… another, I would be willing."
D'Artagnan frowned, hearing a double meaning. "What exactly are you offering me?"
Athos sighed uncomfortably. "Thetas have needs just like every other inclination on the spectrum. Repression, especially in your state is dangerous."
d'Artagnan took a deep breath, feeling the same anger and embarrassment from back in Gascony resurface. "That's… you mean to preach to me when you parade your own loneliness like a badge of honor?"
"There was a time when I knew the pains of such a state," Athos allowed. "I learned the hard way that needs must be taken care of and do not wish to see you suffer the same or worse. Repression can cause terrible deficiencies, even premature death-"
d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "I'm a Theta. Premature death is a promise."
Undeterred, Athos pressed on. "How long have you been alone?"
"Why does it matter?"
"It matters because I can tell that this is hurting you, that you are needlessly depriving yourself, and making yourself sick. You're exhausted, you're dragging your feet, you sweat a river's worth in a single day, and you look like a ghost. I won't say anything about your swordsmanship for your pride, but you are purposefully denying your own needs-"
"What," d'Artagnan snapped. "You'll come running to my bed, is that it? I don't need your pity, Athos-"
"It's not pity you damned fool," he hissed. "God almighty, you're like a brick wall! What I am offering you is not something I would object to." The heat from Athos' breath made him feel a little dizzy. "I offer nothing I do not first desire."
Before d'Artagnan could do anything, Athos snaked a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. It was insistent, entirely distracting, and intoxicating. When d'Artagnan started to come back to himself, he realized several things, in some order he no longer remembered. His back was against the wall next to the empty room he intended to claim for the night, he was entangled with Athos' limbs, his lips, and his tongue, and the smell of him was more than dominating, it was singing and melding and mixing with his own, bringing it back to life, fueling him and filling him in so many ways that he started to lose himself. He tried to find the power to dislodge himself, but found he was powerless. He should have been afraid, but all fear had been chased out of the light that Athos was churning in him.
Ultimately, Athos was the one who pulled back, resting his forehead against d'Artagnan's, their breath still mingling like embers from a dying fire. When d'Artagnan caught his breath, the fear started returning. He looked at Athos with a dawning horror and tried to move away, but the older man held him fast.
"Stop," Athos commanded quietly. "Look at me! Please. Look into my eyes. Do you see any regret?"
D'Artagnan grabbed either side of Athos' head and closed his eyes tight. "You don't understand!"
"Then help me!"
"Henri," d'Artagnan gasped. "My mother! My father! They're all dead because-"
"Because what?! Because you breathe? Because you exist?"
"Every person I dare love-or care about dies! All I bring about is trouble and it always ends in death."
Athos kissed d'Artagnan on the forehead. "Then it is a good thing we court death on a daily basis, for that is something I am already well familiar with."
D'Artagnan felt the fight die in him when he looked at Athos. He always thought he and an alpha could never do anything but butt heads. And here Athos was, comforting him, dominating him humbly with… tenderness and care and love. All the things d'Artagnan had denied himself for so long. "Athos… I cannot ask this of you."
"You don't need to. Tell me the truth," Athos whispered. "How bad was your last heat cycle? Don't lie to me."
"I couldn't breathe. I think I passed out at some point. And when I woke I couldn't move for several hours. I had no sight. I thought I was dead. When I came back I couldn't stomach anything for two days. It was during my first solo mission. I would have arrived on time if it wasn't for that."
"So you being waylaid by bandits on the road was a lie?"
d'Artagnan nodded.
"You could have been killed," Athos hissed. "Or worse! Your own blood is poisoning you. You do realize that?"
"I know-"
"And what were you going to do about it, just hide away, die quietly, and leave us to find you in the morning-"
D'Artagnan shoved Athos away.
"I'm not sorry," Athos vowed. "Because that would have been a dagger to our hearts. One that I do not have the strength to bear."
"I didn't want to burden anyone…"
"You are not a burden. And you cannot let another heat cycle pass unheeded. You could die. Others have pushed their limits before for the sake of some stupid attempt of a pleasure high, but it is dangerous and fatal if done repeatedly."
"What if it's been too long already? You'd be endangering yourself for nothing."
Athos shook his head. "What am I to do with you? Must I spell it out one letter at a time?"
D'Artagnan frowned. He pulled back when Athos approached him once more, but gave in when Athos shushed him and pulled his lips into a sudden and faster dance than their first. "If all we had was a single hour, I would cherish that memory until the end of my days with pride, honor, and God forgive me perhaps a sliver of happiness for once in this wretched life. You have held this special place in my heart since the moment we met. I couldn't hate you when I awaited my imminent death. All I could do was mourn the time we would never get to share. Until now, I did not know of a way to tell you because I did not know how to believe it myself… you will let me know when it comes next?"
d'Artagnan bit his bottom lip in thought, but released it when Athos pulled it free with his thumb, caressing the light damage done to it. "If it is to be my last-"
"Which it won't," Athos promised.
"But if it is… it would make me happy to spend it with you."
Athos smiled before kissing him one final time that night, intent on leaving an impression. "Good."
A/N: And from here on out, shit hits the fan. So, prepare yourselves! Thanks for reading and keep an eye out for the next chapter within the next couple of weeks. I may actually be able to keep this relatively short after all. Fingers crossed!
