Thanks for the reviews! Here's the much awaited finale! I PROMISE THIS PART IS THE END OF THE BATTLE!
Enjoy! :D
It was with this raging mentality that Athos approached the vile creature that was Porter; ready to rid the world of his filth and exact his revenge.
But his inattention to his surroundings -in particular, the littered ground- lead Athos to stumble suddenly, letting out an accidental yelp of surprise as he fell and alerting Porter to his once stealthy motions.
Giving up his focus on the entertaining battle, Porter paced five feet over to Athos' position and came to a stop only ten feet away -offering an amused smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest and tutted at his enemies' clumsy struggle to get to his feet.
"So, we meet again" Porter began cheerily, clapping his hands together as Athos finally righted himself before lowering an arm to rest his hand on the hilt of his over-glamorized, silver sword -should he need to suddenly defend himself from the musketeer.
Athos remained silent and seething at the statement; tightening a fist around hilt of his own sword as his heart continued to race while every nerve tingled; his mind alive with evil thoughts of how he would kill this smiling devil.
Porter chuckled, appearing nonchalant about the showdown -almost as if they were old friends.
"I must say, I do marvel at your death defying talents -and your seeming ability to evade my efforts to kill you at every turn" Porter stated honestly; scrubbing his chin in mockery of further contemplation while the gleeful, mad smirk remained on his face.
Athos smiled tightly, "It seems we are both prone to resurrection" he reported icily and recalling how this foe had meant to die from his wounds somewhere along the forest with him.
Porter tutted with a smile and a shake of his head.
"Ah, yes…couldn't have that, now could we? The world would be diminished without my divine, lording presence to rule over all the lowly peasants" he taunted.
Athos refused to take the bait; settling instead for an intense glare through his brows as he lowered his head menacingly and titled it to the side -eyeing up his adversary and roving over the assortment of polished weapons- all referring to their untouched use, and impractical balance.
They were mere art pieces compared to real weapons. He doubted the pompous ass even knew how to wield them.
Hopefully they would break apart at a single blow -and they could resort to fists. That would be so much more pleasurable…too bad the man was a coward and more likely to run than fight in that scenario.
Athos smirked despite himself, hoping his attitude would unnerve his foe -or at least make him lose his temper first. He'd been on the receiving end long enough.
To his luck, Athos was rewarded with a twinge of annoyance that leaked through Porters' expression; the turned down corners of his mouth and narrowed eyes giving him away.
Good. I hope I bother you. I hope I chill you to the core, hope I'm on your mind when your chained to Satan's footstool down in hell Athos mused as he slowed his breathing and drowned out the clashing around him; drowned out the whole world until nothing remained but the man in his sights.
It was then that Athos purposely began eyeing Porter like a lump of meat before a starving lion.
Porter turned to the musketeer abruptly, his mind having snagged on a delightful stream of thought that he was sure would rile up the man.
"I suppose that whore lived too then?… Couldn't leave this world without emptying her masters' pocketbook from the entirety of its treasures?" he quipped daringly; lilting his head to the side and nodding in retrospect.
Hungry little wench… It probably wasn't true but if it dug into the musketeer, he would use it to torment him all the more.
Despite his attempts to remain calm, Athos felt the fire within him stoke the simmering coals back into raging embers at the pit of his stomach; eyes narrowing back into fierce, flinty blue slits as he gnashed his teeth together.
Porter smiled victoriously; relishing the moment of anguish he had caused the musketeer and excitedly awaiting the comeback.
"Alas no, Miriam is not a whore -but I did meet your mother in a similar predicament once!.. She was quite the charming little trollop too -which I bet explains where you stole your wit and acquired your flare for the outrageous garb" Athos retorted snidely; regarding Porters' superfluous attire once again with distaste -and alluding to its decidedly feminine -rather than dashing- appearance.
"Its unfortunate that your wolfish face also seeks to spoil your admirable attempts but then again, I suppose that 'feature' is to be expected when you're the son and heir of a mongrel bitch" Athos hypothesized, allowing Porter to catch the fleeting grin that cracked through his venomous expression and hoping it would infuriate the man all the more.
Not so funny when you get a taste of your own medicine, is it? Athos mused, flexing his fingers in anticipation.
Porters' eyes seemed to crackle with sparks of lightening as his expression turned thunderous and he took two steps closer; literally spitting his next words at Athos as he quickly redirected the conversation to better dominate in this battle of wits.
"Your presence here changes nothing! I have already won! In case you haven't noticed, friend, I have slaughtered countless brothers of yours, diminished musketeer forces, hurt your family -and stole your horse" Porter added provocatively; grinning at the fading air of satisfaction the musketeer radiated.
Athos plastered a light smirk to his face as he stepped closer -and within range of combat.
"That's not entirely true, my foolish colleague" Athos responded, bluntly; taking in the dwindling strength of Porters' men; the captain before him apparently oblivious to their ensuing downfall as he regarded their numbers rather than their progress.
"In case you haven't noticed, the victor of this battle favours my forces -in which my brothers fight gloriously in their fit states... It is you who has lost, Porter -and I shall personally see to it that you meet your end" Athos promised in a deadly whisper -the final straw settling onto the overburdened mind of his enemy and snapping him into a vengeful rage as he thrust himself into the fight.
After Porter had unsheathed his sword and let loose with a barrage of violent jabs at his injured side, Athos continued to twirl and glide about the enemy -blocking his final swing and then locking his blade through the trimmings of his cutlass before twisting his wrist.
The fancy manoeuvre had been a daring one, but it had paid off as Athos' caught sword suddenly wrenched the hilt from Porters' grasp -leaving him temporarily open for attack.
Easily flicking his sword at Porters' exposed shoulder, Athos happily opened up a nice long gash in the fancy fabric -and healing flesh underneath- the pained hiss and reflexively evasive jump back causing his stomach to knot with nervous excitement.
Glaring back at Athos' cold stare, Porter whipped a gilded dagger up from his belt, clutching at it forcefully before attempting another savage blow -this time aiming for Athos' neck with a mad glint in his eyes.
Athos rolled his body away from the blow and shoved Porter in the back as he sailed harmlessly past -tripping the man up and provoking a flush of embarrassment to his cheeks.
"Why are you so eager to end the dance here when we've only just begun?" Athos implored sarcastically; circling his enemy as Porter did the same and absently stroking at the bloodied gash he'd received as he eyed his man somewhat warily.
This wasn't fun any more. The musketeer seemed confident…almost too confident. As if he knew something that he didn't. Were his odds of success really that bad?!
"You couldn't dance if your life depended on it" Porter hissed, "-which incidentally, it does" he growled; his threat only half heard by Athos as he'd charged his adversary in mid sentence -a sly attempt to catch the opponent off guard unlike most men who followed through with their words, after stating them.
But Athos had been ready. He'd been ready and waiting to redeem himself for this fight ever since they'd stayed at Alf's home. Athos didn't enjoy killing people in the line of duty, but in this case, he would.
Bowing in the middle as he leaning away from the thrusting dagger; to allow it a narrow miss past his ribcage, Athos followed through with the bent stance -butting his already lowered head forwards into Porter's face to deliver a rough headbutt; stomach tingling with something akin to joy as he heard a harsh crack and cry.
Not bothering to watch Porters' reaction in real time, Athos leaned back out as he raised a leg, kicking inwards at Porters' chest and knocking the blood splattered man to the ground.
However, as Athos advanced, Porter rolled to the side and leapt back onto his feet -dragging an unseen knife from some place on his body and lashing out at the musketeer; catching him in the crease of his knee and carving a deep groove in the flesh.
Cursing colourfully as he stumbled away in pain, Athos pressed a glove against the slice on his leg, regarding the severity of damage as minimal before quickly testing its strength and reliability with a light stretch and turning back to the fight.
It would take a lot more than that to take him down. He was already up with a small hole in his side, a slide to the leg was hardly anything to whine about, until tomorrow perhaps…if there was a tomorrow.
Unable to sidestep as swiftly as his enemy, Porter received a quick success of cuts to his arms and legs as Athos played with his 'food.' He was furious that Porter had managed to draw blood from him and so he wouldn't be offering any more close calls if he could help it.
"What's the matter, getting tired already?" Athos quipped as he successfully dodged another one of Porter's feeble slices and responded by chopping his assailants dagger away in one fluidly placed fist to the underside of his elbow; effectively numbing his arm.
"Bored" Porter growled out the answer -his humorous nature having lost its witty edge as he shook out fatigued limbs and panted harshly; his broken and bloodied nose making struggled wheezing noises as he moved.
"I shall have to become more creative and entertaining for you in my efforts then" Athos replied in mock obedience, stepping back to roll his hand under a gentlemanly bow; eyes glinting with fire as a wicked smile froze upon his face like ice.
Hoping to beat the man to the punch, Porter managed to step inside Athos' oncoming sword and land a solid right to his already bruised jaw; the ringed knuckles opening up a large cut on the musketeers face and bringing a smile of accomplishment to his own.
"I find more entertainment in my own 'works of art'… if I do say so myself" Porter retorted as he impressively ducked under a second swing of Athos' fist as the musketeer momentarily lost track of his temper and ripped at the man.
Having stood back up after the knuckles had sailed harmlessly passed, Porter eagerly brought a second, tightly coiled fist up into the musketeers ribs and followed the motion with a snatch of his hair and the drag of his head to his rising knee.
The musketeer collapsed ungraciously on the ground when his face met that final blow; his rolling in their sockets -eyes unable to notice Porter circling around his form to collect his sword from opened fingers.
Lazily rolling himself onto his back in what seemed to be a reoccurring performance this day, Athos clumsily sat his body up and crawled to a standing position -his lolling head and flickering vision leading him to stutter about on his feet and observe three different grinning Porters' before him.
I will not give in.
No matter how much this hurts, no matter what this man has done to him, to them, I will prevail!
If Porter chopped off my sword arm and stabbed me in the chest, I'd simply drag myself over there and strangle him to death instead. Nothing will stop me now -no matter how bleak it look.
Athos was never going to give up.
"Stings, doesn't it?" came a sarcastic mumble.
Athos shook his head and fumbled at his belt until he pried out a dagger to hold it firmly, continuing to blink furiously as he did his best to restore his vision.
Just making out the fuzzy form lunging at him, Athos pawed at the blackened fabric of a protruding limb, gripped it where flesh fingers met steel and expertly deflected the blades' direction with a minute turn.
Shooting a second fist out, Athos quickly chopped at what he assumed was Porters' throat and was relieved to hear a gasped choking sound before witnessing a descending glint of a sword in his periphery as the man ceased his attack.
Vision blurrily coming back into play, Athos rammed another solid punch upside Porters' temple and sent the fancy assailant straight to the ground, clutching at his collapsed windpipe as he went until he was laying prone on the ground, trying to heave in air.
Ironically enough, this particular role reversal reminded Porter of the first time he'd met the musketeer. He didn't dwell on it long…air was more of a primary concern.
Stumbling over to his sword and picking it up -as well as the sword of his enemy- Athos teetered back over to Porter who was now shakily trying to rise up to his feet but having only made it to his knees thus far.
Crossing his swords in the centre and placing their conjunction at Porters' throat, Athos glared down as the exhausted, bloodied and beaten man.
"Any last words?" Athos panted, dark soulless eyes biting into Porters' broken, anguished stare.
He could see no way out.
Slumping on his knees and dropping his arms limply to his sides, Porter let out a broken laugh as he tried to accept his fate; his bloodied smile, crooked face and ruffled hair completing the perfect picture for the musketeer.
"I'll see you in hell" Porter promised; knowing eyes shining with a detached but delighted look as he accepted he had lost this mortal battle. There was always next time…in hell.
Athos nodded, lips quirking into an evil smile, "Duly noted, monsieur -but don't wait up, I'll be quite a while yet" came his dark reply -his waiting swords cutting into flesh of his foes neck slightly as he applied more pressure.
Porter inclined his head as best he could under the circumstances; his delirious state driving all anguished thoughts from his mind as he prepared himself for an eternity in hell…Perhaps he could rule that realm instead? He was a born leader after all.
"Try not to miss me too much" Porter croaked, closing his eyes upon the world with a final smile.
"I won't" Athos promised -and with that, instantly drew both swords inwards to create a deep damning gash across Porters' throat, severing several arteries and opening up the damn of blood that lay within -allowing it to cascade down in thick streams and ruin his once beloved attire.
Porter tumbled to the floor, eyes glassy and body twitching fitfully as his lungs fought for air around the crimson fluid now filling his lungs.
Athos waited patiently by overhead, taking no small amount of satisfaction at watching this vermin exit the world in a tormented state; his screams for vengeance and fears for his family all silencing as Porter finally stilled.
"Good riddance" Athos muttered, kicking the corpse with the toe of his boot and turning back to the dwindling battle, no longer in the mood for a fight.
Trundling tiredly over to a lost musket straddling a pile of corpses, Athos picked up the loaded weapon hoisted the stock to rest against his hip and fired into the sky.
Considering the discharge of a musket had been the only deafening noise to have occurred for some time now -and was certainly much louder than the meagre noises of what was now a large squabbling fight between tired opponents in a courtyard- Athos' actions instantly froze the men of the yard and gained their rapt attention.
Propping the smoking musket over the back of his shoulder, Athos placed a gloved hand on his hip and strode closer to the waiting arc of men; clearing his throat quietly as his impassive stare and bloodied face sought to unnerve the battered faces of his enemies who stared back at him.
"You're leader has been slain" Athos called loudly, "Whatever deal he may have previously struck with you has now been rendered 'invalid'" he droned, slowly walking closer to the fidgeting forms and maintaining his eerily calm demeanour betrayed by the rigid form and icy undertones inflected in his voice.
"-So, I suggest you lay down your weapons and surrender -lest you choose to be slaughtered like mindless animals, without reason" Athos added, voice dripping with sarcasm as he glared menacingly at each beady eyed gaze.
It was obvious to both brothers and criminals alike that the soldier standing before them had no patience or mercy left in his being. And that made him dangerous.
"What will it be?" Athos demanded in an unnaturally soft voice, coming to a stop before a particularly blood splattered attacker and staring him down.
The man quickly lost his nerve as he felt the weight of the situation close in on him from all sides; suddenly aware of how the musketeers now outnumbered them instead -and had strategically played them all to fight collectively at a centre point thus encircling and trapping them.
Gulping, the man looked away, "I surrender" he choked out nervously, raising shaky gore stained hands and looking to the floor. Several other men instantly repeated the motion until finally all had been 'persuaded' to give in by some manner or another.
"Good" Athos ground out, eyeing the villainous force one last time before turning away and stalking off; appropriately masking his limp until he'd made it to his quarters and collapsed onto his bed.
He didn't know what to feel now. Pain? Relief? Joy for having won? Sadness for those brothers he'd lost?
Brothers! Athos shot back up to his feet and paced back over to the door, twisting the door knob as his tired mind chanted guilty thoughts.
How could he have forgotten!? He had left them in the battle to kill Porter. Hadn't even sought to find them after they'd surrendered the rest! What was wrong with him!?
Athos supposed it had something to do with fatigue -but that wasn't an acceptable reason.
How dare he abandon them! How selfish! His only concern had been for another -a man who's sole purpose was to die! How could he have gotten so caught up in his own personal vendetta that he'd pushed them aside!?
Stumbling back down the stair case -his knees aching painfully and trying to give under each step- Athos quickly rounded the bottom of the steps and smashed straight into a massive wall of flesh.
"Heeeeey! Look who it is lads!" came the deep booming chortle; a familiar voice that held the power to inspire fear or sedate troubles.
Porthos.
Athos allowed himself to be manhandled into a crushing hug, his face smushed into the collar of Porthos' leather jacket as he felt the arms of strangers encircling his back.
No, not strangers. Family.
Athos leant into the hug as his stiff frame relaxed and his legs turned back into jelly.
Why did his body always demand a seat when he was in the presence of his family? It was such a moment ruiner.
An insistent moment ruiner.
Coughing to gain their attention, Athos peeled back from the warm jacket and eyed his surrounding family with warm smiles; his own beam transforming into more of a frown as he noted their bloodied, bruised and exhausted appearances.
"Are you all okay? Were any of you injured? Did you-" Athos began spewing out his concerns, patting at their arms and torsos to get a better judge of their status for his own eyes.
"Athos. Athos! We are all fine!" Aramis assured, complaints regarding the rough inspection with which he was treated hidden as Athos forced his arms up to inspect his ribs and accidentally jarred his injured shoulder, painfully.
He was the medic here. He did the 'inspecting.' Not the other way around!
Athos took a nervous step back, letting go on the hold of his brothers as his eyes drifted over to Miriam.
It would be improper to feel her up and down -and looking at her in such a manner wasn't an appropriate substitute either Athos debated, conflicted in his approach.
Choosing to lean towards her instead, Athos clasped both of her hands gently into his as imploring his eyes met hers.
"Do not lie to me when I ask you of this, Miriam… Tell me honestly, are you okay?" Athos inquired; doing his best to find the truth in her gaze rather than letting his eyes roam anywhere south of her neck. He would be a gentleman about this.
He heard Aramis sigh in exasperation behind him as he promptly ignored his brothers previous statement of them being 'fine.' D'artagnan merely snorted, crossed his arms and wearily leant against the staircase as Porthos let out a good natured chuckle.
Miriam smiled up at him warmly and stole a hug as she stepped into his warm embrace and snaked her arms around his neck.
"I've never been better" she informed, leaning back from her lover as his hands lowered to her waist and pulled her tighter; her jaded eyes meeting his crystal blue gaze -a look of genuine relief taking hold of him before his face broke out into one of those rare but glorious smiles.
"Good" he whispered, lowering his face to hers and stealing a quick kiss.
An awkward cough sounded behind the couple and Athos reluctantly turned to meet the expectant gaze of his three brothers.
"Don't you have an appointment with a bath tub?" Athos droned, tone flat and eyes half lidded as his frustration grew.
They were ruining his moment with Miriam…on purpose.
"Don't you want to talk about 'it' first?" Aramis questioned; voice quiet but serious -his gaze somewhat troubled as he thought back to their personal conversation back in the battle.
Lending the topic his full respect and attention, Athos shook his head, "No. It can wait until tomorrow" he informed the three, looking fondly back to Miriam.
"For now, we must celebrate" Athos added, grin coming to his features as the possibility of wine was now at hand.
"Uhm, about that" Miriam chirped up, looking guiltily up to Athos for reasons unknown to him.
"What is it?" he asked curiously, all eyes now training on the seemingly innocent woman.
"We -uh- that is, Serge and I…used all the wine…there's none left in stock" Miriam relented, looking to the floor.
Aramis and D'artagnan smiled at the confession while Porthos and Athos shared a look of despair.
"My, My! I didn't know you could drink so fast!" Aramis teased playfully; his suddenly humorous tones earning a surprised look from Miriam.
"If you'd have told me you were having a secret party in here this whole time, I'd have abandoned the fight and joined you myself!" he added, this time his jokes making her chuckle lightly.
Porthos rolled his eyes at his brothers charm and annoying witty remarks.
"Yeah, you might find it funny, brother, but I could really do with a drink right now!" he whined grumpily; stretching out the aches and pains of his bruised limbs as he followed the four back up to Athos' quarters -not entirely sure as to why they were bothering to head to an empty room with only one bed.
"Well if you're thirsty, there's always goat milk in stock" D'artagnan offered with a smirk as he planted a slap on Porthos' back and stepped into the room after a smiling Aramis.
"Milk!?" Porthos repeated; astonishment splayed across his face as he wrinkled his nose in distaste and plopped himself down in the only chair just as Athos sat Miriam down on his bed and headed for the dresser.
Propping himself up by the window ledge and resting his back against the window panes, D'artagnan continued to mock his older brother with a cheeky grin as he stood dumb struck before him.
"Yeah, you know, milk. It's like water -but white and its got a sort of sour taste to it" the youngest supplied, sweeping his hand out as if to envision fields of milk.
"-and if you leave it out, it can turn into cheese!" Aramis added helpfully, sliding down the wall by D'artagnans' side to take a seat on the floor and place his battered hat upon a raised knee.
"I know what milk is!" Porthos retorted angrily, propping his dirty boots up on the bed -until he caught the foul gaze from its owner, Athos and rapidly dropped them back to the floor with a thud.
"Sorry" he added sheepishly -Miriam smiling at his contradictory nature of: hurricane and gentle giant; her expression warming his own features when he spotted her pleasant gaze.
"Hey, what've you got there?" D'artagnan questioned Athos curiously, stepping away from the sill so he could peer at the sooty object in his brothers hands after he'd took a seat on the bed; still covered in grime -but allowed to dirty his own sheets.
"Wine" Athos admitted simply, smirking smugly at the number of bewildered eyes that sceptically regarded the small wooden box in his hands.
Blowing the dust of its lid, Athos somehow produced a metal key as if by magic and inserted it into the slot on the front; twisting it and prying the lid back.
Five sets of eyes peered in, a mixture of chuckles, snorts and smiles letting loose within seconds of spying the contents.
Inside lay an exquisitely designed, thick, stocky bottle; its ruby colour hinting at the generous wine it contained beneath the trimmed label.
"I've been saving this up for a special occasion" Athos confessed, gently removing the glass bottle from its silky pillow and uncorking the top to give it a quick whiff -his eyes watering from the strength of the concoction before taking a daring sip and holding back his cough.
"It has aged quite nicely" Athos croaked out, passing the bottle off to Miriam quickly to divert their attention as he blinked his eyes rapidly to hide his choked tears.
Porthos smirked at Athos as he noticed the comical 'I'm-so-stealthy-they'll-never-expect-the-power-of-the-bottle' reaction and thus hypothesized Miriams' reaction to be a lot less restrained than his alcoholic of a brother.
As she took a sip, Porthos thought to give her an encouraging remark -though admittedly, in hindsight, he should have thought about its implications.
"That'll put some hair on your chest!" he chuckled, his brothers eyes instantly meeting his own in question with varying degrees of revolt on their faces at having a hairy-chested woman 'on their hands.'
They'd heard about bearded women and frankly, that was enough of a scare.
Miriam let the bottle drop back from her lips and took a fiery swallow; schooling her features expertly as she worked on regaining a steady voice before she next spoke -stalling even more by passing the bottle on to Porthos who was now looking highly embarrassed -for her sake.
He nodded his thanks and took a healthy swig before turning his head desperately and spraying it all back out in shock.
"You fool!" Aramis roared after a pause; flicking his wrists to shed the wine droplets from his fingers before swiping at his ruined jacket.
Although it had most likely been ruined from the blood stains from battle and the gashes it had received from numerous blades, there was no coming back from wine stains.
Rising to his feet tiredly, Aramis dived at Porthos who in turn chucked the opened bottle over to D'artagnan at the last moment before the duo collided and the chair rocked back -throwing them both to the floor.
As the bottle sailed overhead some of its precious liquid managed to escape across the floor, Athos called out angrily and rose slowly to his feet -catching it out of mid air while his two brothers continued to tussle on the floor.
"Hey! I want a sip!" D'artagnan complained, outstretched arms now falling back to his sides as he shuffled over in front of Athos who took another swig.
"Maybe later" Athos grunted, handing it back over to Miriam who took a second swig; seeming to enjoy the powerful ruby residue.
"There wont be anything left later! You two are both raging alcoholics!" D'artagnan accused bluntly; frustration quickly crossing his features as Athos took back the bottle and took a third sip.
"Well, I wouldn't exactly say raging" Miriam butted in with a hoarse voice; wiping at her stained smile with the back of her hand.
D'artagnan spun on his heel, arms raised above his head in defeat as he paced towards the fallen chair, propped it back upright and slid it away from the tangle of squirming legs and wildly kicking feet -so he wouldn't be knocked down when he sat; intending to resign himself to this new entertainment.
Athos and Miriam seemed content with this idea and for a while, they all enjoyed the entertainment of Aramis and Porthos tussling and pulling at each others hair -that was until they lay panting on the floor, flailing weakly and whining in their exhausted states,
And that was how the small band of brothers -plus one 'not so innocent woman'- passed the rest of the day; in fits of squabbles, giggles, drinking and card games -all of which 'magically' appeared from either Athos' bottomless wardrobe of Porthos' sleeves.
As the rest of the regiment went on about restoring the garrison courtyard, putting out fires, cleaning up corpses and escorting prisoners, the fussy five worked on getting themselves more 'hammered' as Porthos had put it.
The brothers didn't feel entirely guilty for their comrades, for as Athos had put it, they were 'merely postponing this belligerent state until some time later. So why wait?'
That was all the reasoning they'd needed.
And so, many hours later the floored fives' addled leader suggested they all stay the night in his quarters. They could use a mixture of quilts, linens and spare bedding from the quarters below to assemble their sleeping arrangements for the night, 'it would be no trouble.'
All were quick to agree as it meant staying by each others sides for as long as possible; an enticing notion having just suffered such a harrowing ordeal of being spread thin and torn apart these past few days.
Settling down came fairly easy in the temporary lodgings, as the dark, familiar walls seemed much more soothing than their own shadowed rooms -mostly due in part of the family members that surrounded each occupant from every angle.
Of course, this disorganized sleeping arrangement meant that Miriam got the entire bed while the boys slept on the floor -despite her kind, insisting nature. She'd been too drunk to argue her case much longer and fallen asleep shortly afterwards to Athos' amusement.
With yawns all around, the brothers bid their goodnights and began slipping off into worlds of their own -hopefully lit with fresh tales of happy dreams and fond memories.
Five minutes of blissful, silent peace passed by before Athos found his thoughts interrupted.
"I'd say that's a pretty good day" D'artagnan whispered over in a tired mumble; trying keeping his voice low over the light snoring now possessing the room.
Athos picked his head up from his folded doublet -otherwise known as 'the makeshift pillow'- to eye the bundle of sheets at his foot where he believed his youngest brother to lie in the half light of the moon.
"Indeed" Athos murmured with a slight slur, offering a smile to the darkness before dropping his head back to his 'pillow' and gaze blearily up at the peacefully sleeping form of Miriam in the bed above; smiling again as he noticed she was drooling on his blankets.
"Hey, Athos?" came the quite voice again, disturbing the man from his wandering thoughts as his foot felt the tap of a light nudge in the darkness.
"Mmmm?" he sighed, yawning quietly as his eyelids drooped and he stared back to the ceiling.
"Thank you" came the random but heart felt statement.
Athos furrowed his brow in confusion and decided it best to act on his curiosity lest this conversation be forgotten or fester into something more.
"For what?" he mumbled.
"For being -careful…for coming back" D'artagnan replied; the small but sincere voice dying down to an almost silent whisper.
But Athos had heard it and his chest hummed with a mixture of deep emotions, his brown furrowing all the more.
"I told you I would come back, D'artagnan" Athos reminded the youngest; concern niggling at his addled mind regarding the boys surprising doubts -and apparent trust issues.
"I know…and I'm glad... Just -don't leave again, please" came the quite plea.
Athos sighed and sat up in his makeshift bed; swivelling on the floor until he was lying down facing the opposite direction, his head now level with his D'artagnans'.
"I promise" Athos whispered, raising an arm to stroke the boys' hair comfortingly with a hand -noting with a pained pang of his heart how D'artagnans' eyes shined through the darkness at him with raw emotion.
Athos levelled him with a sincere, friendly, 'big brother' look; patting his shoulder after a beat, hoping to reassure his friend and keep those darker thoughts at bay.
He would never abandon D'artagnan. The lad should know this by now.
D'artagnan smiled lightly, seeming to accept his brothers' statement and slowly closed his eyes -drifting off into slumber as Athos tucked the sheets up about his neck and lay back down to closing his own eyes and think of better times.
As Athos' tired mind and body began to drift off in their numbed and addled state he found peace in the warm atmosphere of the room; a light of hope rekindling in this place of darkness as he lay among his family.
They were all safe now. He had no reason to leave them again. And he didn't want to. This was his family and this was his home.
Athos let out a deep breath as his frayed nerves finally singed themselves back together and his trepidation for the dawn to come ebbed away.
Athos rolled over onto his side and pulled the sheet closer to his own body, a faint smile to his lips as he resigned himself to a long, well earned, peaceful sleep.
~o0o~
And there you go! I Hope you liked it -and found satisfying closure in it after such a long story arc of waiting haha ;D
Did you notice any similar sounding quotes in here? If you did, it's because I twisted quite a few sentences in here from the show too for the Porter vs. Athos 'battle of wits' used from milady and athos tee hee! I also went scouring Shakespearean insults and yo mama jokes for inspiration to mix with my creativity in here. Ultimately I had to resort to my own creativity and brainstormed relentlessly for an hour to dredge up Athos' burning comeback as nothing else fit quite right. (So I'm proud of my little dark brain hahaha)
Aaaaanyways, sad to say there's only one chapter left -but its been a BLAST writing for you guys! I loved every step of the way and im glad you have too :D
Please let me know what you thought of it with a review! Until next time!