A Moment

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: A collection of brief moments between our musketeers (especially d'Artagnan and Athos), that would otherwise go unnoticed; swallowed up in the hectic parts of a day to perhaps end up in the recesses of memory – tucked away. Chapter 12: Athos is undecided about the future; but not where family is concerned.


Chapter Twelve: Choices

Athos remained still, stoic and alone among many. The buoyant sounds of garrison life swept by him unnoticed – his focus cast inwards – his mind invaded by thoughts of her.

His place here – the table beneath the stairs; facing out toward the yard – was where he did his best thinking; concocted many a daring plan; and made his most important decisions. It was here, at this table where he first encountered Aramis' rakish smile as he swaggered suavely toward him. On the bench across from him, was his first handshake with Porthos – introduced to him by Treville – his hands strong as they shook his with a genuine overture of good will.

And here in this very seat, is where he looked across at d'Artagnan – the boy who had stormed into his life like a tornado – and thanked him for saving his life.

And not so long ago – she made her appearance here – there on the stairs; her stance determined. Her raven hair, down about her shoulders; her cool, wild eyes challenging his; and the slight lift of her lips that betrayed a hint of dangerous mischief – stuttered his heart and gave him pause.

Though around him swirled the controlled chaos of musketeer comings and goings – he did not hear it; see it or sense it.

For in this moment, she filled every crevice of his being – till it swelled his pores to bursting; causing his skin to tingle with pain; scorn or was it anticipation?

Memories of her, those tinted with rose colored glass; and then later, shattered into fragmented bloody pieces, assailed him and pushed feelings he had long suppressed to the surface. The thought of her made him dizzy, uncomfortable and unbelievably uncertain.

He did not understand these emotions towards her, and they were driving him to distraction.

He folded his hands on the table and pressed them tight together, to keep them from shaking. He wanted a drink – badly – but he didn't need it. He had promised himself that there would be no more of that self-indulgent, destructive behavior - selfish behavior that only led to inert melancholia and worried his brothers.

What he needed instead was a clear head – so that he could think more objectively of the past, understand the yearning he felt for her now, and consider her proposal for the future.

These past months – he had been hard pressed to think much of anything. Instinct was what he and his brothers had lived on. Instinct in battle; trust in one another; and love for country was what had sustained them. So now, that the fate of France had been decided; Rochefort's menace thwarted – he could be still; quiet – take stock of his life and perhaps look ahead.

He bowed his head to contemplate what that would look like – the future – with her. He twirled his thumbs and wondered what he really felt – for love it was not. And if not love – then what was it?

He could not deny the physical attraction. She was a stunning woman; and he wanted her. In some ways he needed her. Needed her level of "against all odds" fierceness; will to survive and her fortitude. Her loyalty to self and single minded preservation – he understood. That she extended such loyalty to him – surprised him and gave him some hope for her character and true intentions towards her offer of a life together.

Without her extended olive branch – he wasn't so sure they would have lived through Rochefort's madness. She had helped to save not only Aramis' life; but France as well and he was forever grateful.

Athos closed his eyes to the garrison and conjured up her image – standing there in that darkened, secret place – streaks of light from a single candle flickering across her face. He could still feel her warm breath at his neck – her trembling limbs beneath the folds of her gown and her heart beating erratically against his leather.

He had fallen into her essence and she was Anne again - his passionate, zealous Anne. But when they parted – breathless and weak – she was Milady; the passion and zealous nature, still there – but changed. She had stumbled from his arms – vulnerable on shaky legs- appreciation for his desire evidenced by her low moan and unsteady gait.

That he could affect her so – brought a sense of pleasure; satisfaction and then pain for the torture they seemed to inflict on one another – even with the gesture of a kiss.

The longing for her ached in his bones and even now, in this moment, as musketeers yelled out good naturedly to one another around him – he could feel her heated presence.

He opened his eyes and considered the past. At one point in his life – he had loved her completely; blindly and on faith. That even though he had not truly known her – their love could survive anything. She had made him promise to love her – no matter what may come; and he had done so without reservation.

Looking back on it now – deep down – he knew of her duplicity; could feel it hovering between them; but did not care. She claimed love; he believed her and gave her his heart. He believed her above everyone's reservations; but when it mattered most, would not remove the blinders and see Thomas as she knew him. He could see it now – removed from the sorrow by time and experience that Thomas, his beloved brother was a man of poor judgement; and low morals – who would threaten a woman to have his way.

He had refused to recognize the flaws – only willing to see his little brother; the boy who had followed him around the estate like a puppy; who he cherished and thought had loved him. Though she had struck the fatal blow; Thomas' death was surely blood on his hands.

It had been a weakness in him – to see the good in everyone – Anne; Thomas; Catherine – himself. That weakness had been the ruin of them all – a hard lesson learned that skewed his way of life for five years – and now?

What was he to think? That she could change? He knew better – she was who she was – lovely; complicated and deadly. Would that he turn back time and be that foolish young man who loved her above everyone else? No – it was not possible. He was no longer so optimistic a person, and could never love a woman with such abandon again.

Out across the yard – breaking through his revere – he heard the laughter of youthful unrestraint; and spied d'Artagnan and Constance walking his way. They strode side by side; hand in hand – their eyes locked on one another – oblivious to all the commotion around them. They were consumed by each other.

He chuckled softly with a tinge of sadness and fondness, for he knew that feeling well. When one laughed – the other smiled; when one touched – the other kissed; when one breathed in – the other exhaled.

Yes – passion such as this – for him, was lost forever.

Suddenly, the two stood in his wake, and looked to him with anticipation – eyes wide; shining and happy.

After a brief, awkward moment of silence, d'Artagnan frowned and asked, "Have you heard me Athos? What do you say?" with a worried tenor to his voice.

Athos blinked and brought the two into clearer focus. He had missed something said by the look of things, "Say again d'Artagnan – you have caught me day dreaming."

d'Artagnan sighed with relief and his face eased back into joy, " You are the first to know Athos, I have asked Constance to marry me and she…"

"…has agreed wholeheartedly!" Constance continued, standing to her tip toes and swinging d'Artagnan's hand to her lips.

Athos noted her love for his brother radiated deep from within. Adoration shown bright on her face; her dimples creased deep; her cheeks flushed pink and her bangs bounced about her forehead in time with her enthusiastic nod. How lucky this boy was, he thought.

He raised an eyebrow – not surprised by the announcement; only that it had taken this long. He nodded his head their way in acknowledgment and replied with sincere regard, "Congratulations" and offered them to take a seat – with a gesture to the bench.

The two scrambled to sit before him – sill holding hands and leaned forward with eager expressions. "We wish for you to stand with us Athos", d'Artagnan began in a rush.

"To walk me down the aisle – to present me to my husband", Constance continued in a flurry – her voice catching with emotion.

Athos considered carefully d'Artagnan and Constance before him; their request more than a friendly gesture. They were asking him to be a part of their little family of two. They stared across the table at him – hands gripped tight together, waiting for his answer – as if life depended on it.

He took a deep breath and felt the anxiety of earlier thoughts of Anne dissipate; fade into the background and be replaced by the honor of this moment. He looked then to his brother, whose gaze peered into his; and without hesitation answered, "Of course."

d'Artagnan leaped to his feet; leaned over and reverently kissed Constance on her lips. She hummed; then laughed in his embrace – held his cheeks between her small hands – so that his lips lingered all the more.

When he pulled back from her, breathless from lack of air – he turned to Athos and smiled. "Thank you brother", he gasped and reached out across the table to give a quick squeeze of his forearm. Then he was away – already to the yard, "I will go tell the others!" he called over his shoulder and raced off in search of Aramis and Porthos.

Athos watched until d'Artagnan bounded from his sight; and knew Constance did the same. When he was gone from view; she turned to him and held out her hand; her smile warm – her gaze open; inviting him to be her brother. He took hold of her offered hand; squeezed tight and heard her whisper, "Thank you."

He rubbed her knuckles gently; thought of his Anne – his past – the future; and was glad to realize that no matter what choices presented themselves; or what his decisions might be – d'Artagnan and Constance were a part of what was to come; and this brought him peace.

He brought her knuckles to his lips and brushed over them a brief kiss. "No, thank you", he whispered back.


Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this moment between Athos and Constance. I always wondered what that conversation looked like when Athos was asked to walk Constance down the aisle. I'm hoping my interpretation proved agreeable. Please review and let me know what you think. As always – thanks to everyone who has read; reviewed; followed or favorited this story. Your comments have been read over, and over, and over….. You get the point! Thank you.