AN: Okay so, I am here to apologise for my terrible, terrible updating, and to ask for your forgiveness. I'm sorry it's taken so long, I've just finished my exams so I should hopefully be a lot better, the stress is finally gone. I have every intention of finishing this story, even if it takes me 10 years, it shall be done! Although it probably won't take me that long, don't worry. Hope you enjoy this chapter and those to come!
Also, thank you to everyone for your reviews, I'm really glad you're enjoying the story :)
Aramis wondered for how long Antione would stay quite on his saddle, the older man having remained strangely silent since they began their journey. The Musketeer wondered if something had been said between his brothers and his uncle. Thinking about it, he wished he had not left as hurriedly as he did, having neither explained who Antione was nor where he was going to anybody but Tréville. When his Captain had asked if he would take someone with him, it had taken him less time than he thought it would to decide this was a journey he should take alone. The strain between them was unsettling, and although he had understood their doubt in Marsac, it was still difficult for him to move past their abandonment. As he had explained to Constance in a quiet moment, he had forgiven them of course, but the pain of loss for his brother was going to take some time to move on from.
"You think too much," Antione beckoned from in front, eliciting a loud huff from the younger man. Clearly his respite was over, Antione never being one to leave a conversation that should be had to a later date.
"And you talk ask too many questions," the younger man countered with a smirk, rolling his eyes as he brought his horse to travel by his uncle's side.
"That is because there are many questions left unanswered, Aramis."
Aramis caught Antione's eyes with a mocking scowl, aware of his uncle's cruel teasing. Despite their journey being one of urgency and despair, Aramis was grateful for Antione's positive manner in times such as these. It had managed to keep him anchored as a child when he had initially arrived at his father's home, and those memories are what he clung to in times of need.
"I rather like it, actually." Antione admitted with a smile. "René, of course, I have no issue with, but Aramis." He paused, listening to the sound the name played on his tongue. "I am surprised, however," he continued, seeming more thoughtful now. "You would choose a name that, perhaps, actually ties you closer to home than your real name. Did you not choose an alias to cut such strings?"
"Antione," Aramis sighed, scratching at his brow. He had not expected this topic of conversation so early, despite its inevitability. The Musketeer had hoped, quite naively, that he would be able to address it once he arrived at his old home, so he would be able to tell his family together, rather than one by one. "You know, of all people, that I did not take the decision to leave lightly."
"And yet, it was a decision you made." There was no hatred in it, Aramis could tell. It was simply a statement of a devastating fact, and it had the desired effect on the young man.
"Yes," he whispered. "But I write, and you know I have never forgotten you. You are with me always," he spoke sincerely, and he knew Antione took him at his word.
"I understand, but it is not just me you will have to explain it to."
"I know," Aramis sucked in a breath, as if trying to mentally prepare himself early. "Father understood, though. I'm sure."
"And what about Pierre?"
"Pierre," Aramis had barely thought of anyone but his father since he began travelling. "How did he react? When you told him I might return?"
Antione shrugged, pulling a disconcerting face. "Well Aramis, you know Pierre." The older man sighed, but when Aramis saw his face he knew his uncle was simply teasing again.
"Uncle," he groaned, almost begging to just be put out of his misery.
"The young man was rather delighted, actually." Antione grinned, his mind taking him back to the memory. "Not sure how he will take to calling you Aramis, though."
"He won't have to," Aramis shook his head. "I would prefer it if he didn't, really. I want it to be the same, I don't want him to think me a stranger."
"You are no stranger," Aramis noticed Antione staring him up and down, as if to try and make his eyes believe his statement. "Still, it has been a long time since you were home. Things are bound to be different."
"I understand." Exhaling, the young man stared down at his horse, still attempting to muddle his head around things. It was enough he was feeling less comfortable around his chosen brothers, now to be awkward around his true brother would be too much for his heart to bear.
"René," Antione spoke again after a moment of silence, garnering his nephew's attention. "What is it? What is eating at you? Even before I told you about your father you have seemed distracted."
"It is complicated, uncle." Aramis knew the older man would notice the use of the title rather than his name, and pounce with his never-ending questions.
"You want to talk about it," the Musketeer smirked, Antione was playful but intensely observant. "It is to do with your friends?"
"It is complicated, as I said." Turning properly to try and explain to Antione, he continued, "I feel as if I am drifting from them. I have gone through things over and over, and I can say I understand it from their perspective, I do. I just feel as though the foundations on which we built our brotherhood are crumbling.
"I will spare you exact details of the events past. My brothers abandoned me at a time of need, as I followed an old comrade who had deserted." Aramis noticed Antione's raised brow, and was quick to explain, "extenuating circumstances. He was suffering, and he walked away, with nothing else to give.
Except, he returned recently, and having been with him during tough times, I stood by his side once again. However, my friends, sharing reasonable doubt, did not stand by mine. I understand they were turning their backs on him rather than me, but I was left to pick up the pieces alone."
"If I may," Antione cleared his throat, having listened closely to his nephew's plight. "You say you want to connect with your friends again, yes?" Aramis nodded. "Yet, they do not even know your name, they do not know your past! How can a true bond be built on this?"
"My past does not speak for me, Antione. I will carry it with me, always. But our bond has always held strong because we are by each other in the present, and that is all that matters."
"I understand, I think." Offering a soft smile, Antione conceded the point. "Still, if you want to find your way back to them, perhaps reconnecting with your past and letting them in some will not damage your chances."
Porthos paced up and down the garrison, waring away the ground underneath him. Athos and d'Artagnan were desperate for him to cease, yet knew any protesting was futile; as Athos had predicted, Porthos insisted on asking Tréville for the whereabouts of his brother. Their Captain, apparently under oath, refused to say.
"He requested some time alone, so we should all allow him such."
Athos had barely managed to pacify Porthos, who was growing more agitated by the second. In his defence, Athos felt just as frustrated. Their Captain's silence didn't help, but it was more disconcerting to him that Tréville had agreed to a request from Aramis not to reveal where he would be spending his time away.
Constance's words danced through his head, any resistance to them surrendering immediately. He knew they rang true, but they were hard to stomach. He wondered if that was the reason for Porthos' incessant pacing. The frustration at their own mistakes outweighed that aimed towards Aramis, a man whose forgiveness they were unworthy.
"Maybe we should just wait for him to come back?" Athos heard d'Artgnan shrug, apparently having a conversation with Porthos the older man had missed. Still, he picked up on the growl directed at the young Gascon, and he closed his eyes in resignation.
"Porthos, leave the boy be." Not wanting to get too involved, having been absorbed contentedly with his own thoughts for the moment, he tried to ignore the glare Porthos shot the boy's way. Still, he knew the bigger man would not take it any further, allowing for d'Artagnan's incomplete experience of their brotherhood.
"You just gonna sit there?" Athos groaned, Porthos apparently turning his ire towards him.
"There is no rescue to be set in motion, no foe to vanquish, what else shall I do?" rolling his eyes, he scratched his head, trying to refocus his thoughts.
Porthos slammed a hand on the table, glaring at the indifferent expression Athos pointedly refused to alter. "'E's our brother,"
"I am aware." The older man ground out. "However, it would be ridiculous for us to search the whole of France for somebody who does not want our attention."
"'E needs us!" Porthos roared, forcing a slight jump from d'Artagnan.
"No," despondently, Athos shook his head. "He needed us."
Hearing a thump, Athos brought his eyes up to see the big man had taken the seat across him, despair washing over him instantly as the truth seeped through. How were they ever going to fix this?