Second Prompt: d'Artagnan learns that via seniority, Aramis is the one in charge of the garrison when the captain is absent.

A/N: The full prompt for this one was, "Given that Athos is the unofficial leader of the quartet of Musketeers, d'Artagnan is completely surprised to learn that it's actually Aramis who is Treville's second, being the more experienced musketeer. And that while it's just the four of them Aramis is quite happy to sit back; when it's a larger group, and Treville is not around, he is more likely to take charge. And he is very good at it. Just looking for how d'Artagnan discovers these facts."

charge d'affaires

-o-

Wearily, Athos trudged down the garrison steps and stopped. There at the base, he took off his hat and ran his thumb along the felt edge. Stiffly lingering near the banister with uncharacteristic hesitancy.

After a pause - wherein the three occupants of plank-wood table began to frown and fidget - he shot a silent look at the heavens then struck a decisive path toward Aramis, sitting pointedly down next to him and receiving a wary side-eye for his trouble.

Slowly, d'Artagnan frowned, cocking his head and narrowing a cautious look across the table.

"So." Porthos cleared his throat when nothing emerged from Athos's mouth. "I'd be correct in guessing we have new orders then?"

Athos glanced at him, tapped his fingers on the wood surface and grimaced. "Yes and no. We're to continue our pursuit of the footpads menacing the arena of the hôtels particuliers, however..." His gaze shot skyward again.

"However..." prompted Porthos.

"However," Athos repeated. "By requirement, we'll be pressed down to three. Captain Treville has been ordered to visit the Duke of Orleans—"

"No, don't say it," groaned Aramis.

"—with a small retinue of soldiers," Athos persisted, glowering as he straightened and let the weight of command enter his voice. "Therefore he requires someone to fill in for him here."

Un-cocking his head, d'Artagnan blinked, glancing back and forth between Athos's stoic demeanor and Aramis's suddenly miserable expression. "I don't understand," he said carefully. "We've been down to three before." His ernest gaze settled upon Athos. "We'll miss you, of course, but surely we can handle such an investigation for a few days without you." He paused, glancing hesitantly at Aramis before speaking to Athos again. "Besides, you'll be right here, won't you? If we need to consult with you while we do the legwork and such - that would be possible, right?"

Athos stared at him for a moment, a small smile playing at his lips before he broke eye contact and cast his gaze at Aramis, eyeing him with an expression that was somehow both stern and sympathetic.

Aramis had gone still. His eyes sat darkly below his furrowed brow and in a matter of seconds he had ceased all attempts at eating. Dropping his crust tiredly into his soup bowl, he sighed heavily.

D'Artagnan's confused frown returned. Warily, he set his spoon into his bowl.

Chuckling, Porthos clapped a hand to d'Artagnan's shoulder. "Don't mind him," he said, leaning in towards d'Artagnan's ear as though he were about to share a secret, though the volume of his voice reflected no such reality. "Our Aramis will be back to himself in no time—"

"He just hates being stuck with the damn paperwork," Athos finished archly.

D'Artagnan blinked. "Aramis?"

Saying nothing, Aramis dropped his elbow to the table, digging a thumb into his forehead.

Porthos laughed louder, lifting a cup of weak wine up in salute. "Better you than me, my friend, better you than me."

-o-