L'amante de Porthos

Chapter 32: Athos & Gerard

(Bonus scene at the end)

The events of this chapter take place right after chapter 27, resuming from the end of the Bonus story: An Experiment…

The rain was unrelenting and already he was soaked to the bone. His hair framed his face asymmetrically while his clothes clung jealously to his body. He was plastered onto the wall, throwing glances onto the third story of that imposing building that was Cardinal Richelieu's residence.

He sighed with frustration. He was confident he could slip in without anyone noticing. It was more the getting away part that concerned him. The guest wing where his patrons had stayed was dark, indicating that it was empty. Should he attempt to break in, he will undoubtedly leave water marks all throughout his path, which will ultimately draw the attention of the Red Guard patrolling the premises.

Soldiers of the Red Guard were not the brightest, but still. A trail of mud and water towards the guest wing would surely draw their attention. He could try the secret passages but no doubt their Captain, the Comte de Rochefort, had been smart enough to intensify the security on those too. He sighed again.

What was he hoping to find, anyway? It had been two weeks. The Comte and his Guard had probably conducted the preliminary investigations and by now, the apartments would have been emptied out of all belongings and cleaned up in preparation for any potential guests. So, now what? Go back to Aramis' demure? Wait for the morning to act, as she suggested? What would they do until the morning anyway? Could they possibly find rest and sleep? He smiled coyly to himself, thinking of what had passed between them, already feeling the organ between his legs pulsating.

Otherwise, he could do exactly what he had told her he would do: go to the Captain of the Musketeers. Yes, it was late. But he could sneak in. Although, that would be like signing his own arrest warrant and possibly worse. He was a wanted man after all and should they arrest him, he will no longer be able to find Marianne. And then what?

The thoughts raced within his head as he struggled to make his decision. He alternated between craning his neck to look up at the apartments and between putting his head down from the rain to contemplate some more. Throughout this little ritual he had temporarily adopted, he was only aware at the last second of a cold sharpness that had made contact with his neck.

"Don't make a move," the assailant said.

…..

A few hours earlier, Athos had exited his Captain's bureau and headed towards the nearest tavern where he sat in a corner for a while, twirling a glass of ale in his fingers.

For once, he contemplated the place with acute soberness. Men, drinking and laughing and telling stories, occasionally harassing the pretty servers who put up with these disgusting habits so as to keep their positions and earn a living. They were anyone; soldiers, traders, the occasional nobility, travelers. But mostly, soldiers. Is this really the place where he would die?

The words of his Captain taunted him.

"…there are two possible outcomes for you: either you learn to forgive, open up your spirit and your heart and move away from the past, which will give you a much happier and lighter life albeit maybe more exposed to hurt and rejection. Or, you remain who you are and you continue with your ruminations and your haunted past until your bitter end, which will most likely occur in a nameless tavern somewhere. It is entirely your choice."

The second option was how Olivier de la Fere had died, but Athos shall die fighting side-by-side with Aramis and Porthos.

The choice was very clear. It had been clear to him since the day he met that blond musketeer. It had been clear since he knew the truth about this musketeer; since he felt his heart beat for the first time in years. It was there all along and he knew it.

The voice of Porthos suddenly intruded onto his mind.

"She should be your wife. But you won't even marry her, Athos! Even now that you're a free man. Your wife is dead, we were all there, we buried her. But still you can't let go. It's pathetic, if you ask me."

What a moronic fool he had been! His heart constricted and he cringed when his own voice now came onto the stage of his mind:

"But you can't be serious about her. She's a virgin Comtesse. You don't want to get tangled up in that. She's not like those barmaids. She's born and bred for marriage…But even if you had serious intentions, she's not the person for you… She's a child!...naïve and selfish…a flaky flirt. And who knows what that uncle of hers is up to…Besides, look at what she's made you do. You can't possibly make a spectacle of yourself for her! What kind of woman asks a man to do that? I'll tell you what kind, the manipulative kind. The spoiled kind."

Porthos was right. He knew nothing about her and yet he was so determined to be against her, to separate them from each other. And for what? To think that Porthos was actually in love with her! That he was going to ask her to marry him, to take her with them on the mission. And he went and sowed the seeds that ultimately ripped them apart. That ripped his friend apart and consequently their friendship.

He knew Porthos trusted his opinion and judgement above all else. He knew that Porthos would listen to him no matter what. He had abused this trust. He had tarnished it, manipulated his friend. He had been so caught up in the ghost of this woman who was once his wife, he ended up becoming her: A manipulative bastard! Even in her death, she still controlled him. But he was the one who had allowed her to possess him. You can't blame the dead. Ghosts did not exist. Yes, he was pathetic.

He lowered his head in shame to think of what he had said to her…

"You loved Francois and he loved you with all the force and passion anyone can ever muster. The truth is, you have never known betrayal in your life. You don't know what it feels like, how can you possibly understand?"

He slammed his mug onto the table, startling a few of his neighbors who eyed him with annoyance.

No, the choice was very clear. He needed to sort this mess out. And the key was the young woman. He will find her for Porthos, he will protect her with his life if need be. He will fix things.

But in order to do that, he needed his partner first. He left his coins on the table and ran out into the rain to the blond musketeer's demure.

…

Through the corner of his eye, Gerard could glimpse a hint of the red uniform worn by his assailant. Ah, a Red Guard, he thought, this will be easy. With a faint smirk, he reacted swiftly by ducking underneath the blade and rolling to the other side. This bought him enough time to unsheathe his own sword and before it was barely out, the stranger had pounced on him with such speed and agility that was uncommon amongst the Red Guard.

It is only when the blades clashed and they stood face to face, that Gerard realized he had made a terrible miscalculation.

"You're… you're not a Red Guard," he declared above the noise of the metal clashing.

The stranger paused and circled him like a vulture. "You offend me, Monsieur," he replied, with a smirk.

Gerard gulped. Despite the weak light that emanated from the Cardinal's residence, he could now make out the identity of his assailant. And even if he wasn't able to, his skill alone gave him away.

Yet, he couldn't help but admire the musketeer before him: tall, handsome, rugged, sculpted. The noble features and the sombre blue eyes accentuated his grand presence. This was Athos, the King's Musketeer, his favorite, some even say. He was the best musketeer in the realm and the most skilled swordsman in France. He was not a person, he was a legend, a mythical God.

For a split second, the mind of Gerard intrusively conjured an image of the musketeer in the process of fu*king the other young musketeer he himself had just bedded. As a lover, his passion must be relentless, unstoppable and absolutely ravishing. He could even hear the voice of Aramis calling out the name of "Athos" as he moved himself aggressively within her… within her many different…orifices. Good God! He shook his head violently to concentrate.

Athos lunged at him and Gerard defended himself. They danced with their swords elegantly for some time. Gerard expertly dodging, or turning around, or rolling away. He used all the agility and nimbleness in his arsenal. He was good with his sword, but not that good – most of it having been self-taught. It was a miracle he held up for so long, but that was mainly thanks to the use of his body rather than his sword. He knew that sooner, or later, the blade of Athos will inevitably find him.

This impromptu duel seemed to amuse Athos. He was at first taken off-guard by the audacity of the young man to face him in battle, but then despite himself, he was impressed by his opponent's agility and anticipatory skills. He fought him as he would fight with any musketeer in training. As he would fight with Aramis. Their skills and their strengths were so similar. And probably so were their weaknesses. They moved in almost a similar fashion and it wasn't long before Athos could discern Gerard's pattern. He knew he could end this at any time he pleased but he kept going, wanting to see how long this young man would last.

Gerard could sense that the end was approaching. Athos had caught on and he wasn't able to adopt new patterns in time. He was forced to use his sword more often to defend himself now, as Athos was driving him into a corner. He could run away, certainly, but he was too honorable to do so.

Slash, slash, clash, lunge, parry, lunge and… Gerard's sword flew into the adjacent woods and he fell on his behind. The musketeer towered over him as he approached his blade to the young man's chest.

…..

Gerard was propped up on his elbows, staring at the blade that Athos was directing across and around his chest, as if exploring some unknown territory, looking for a soft spot to pierce. The delicate and deliberate movement of the blade was almost…sensual. But Gerard was shaken out of this sensation when the blade gently rested on his heart. He closed his eyes.

The blade, however, kept moving in the same gentle streak. Like a lover's caress. It moved back to the middle of his chest and then upwards to his neck until it rested underneath his chin, causing him to lift up his head to face his assailant.

Their eyes met. Athos was struck by the unusual shade of green of the young man's eyes. Their color shifted depending on the light and it had been mesmerising to watch their many shades throughout their little duel. Athos stared at the rest of the young man's body admiringly. He would have made a fine soldier, a musketeer, even, he thought to himself. He was perfectly lean, his muscles developed in all the right places. There were even these delicate muscles in the forearms that enabled a firm yet flexible manipulation of a sword or any other… similar object it held.

He contemplated his body carefully: the lean chest with the delicate muscular undulations; the chiseled handsome face that was rich in youthfulness; the strong slim legs that gave way to sculpted muscular thighs. One quick glance in between his legs confirmed to Athos that this was a worthy adversary. Other than his physical appearance, his eyes radiated a certain noble defiance. Athos had fought many men in his time and he could tell that this was no wanted criminal, but an honorable man who was wrongfully accused. There was a certain melancholy about him – an aura that was all too familiar, throwing Athos eight years into the past into the moment he had first met Aramis.

Suffice it to say, he could now see what Aramis saw in him, because he had seen the same things in her. Even he, himself, couldn't help but be intrigued by this stranger. Possibly even drawn to him in the same way he was attracted to Aramis – an unsettling notion.

….

Until now, they hadn't exchanged many words. It was Gerard who broke the silence.

"If you mean to kill me, then you will oblige me with a dying request," he spoke authoritatively, "Two requests, in fact."

"And what makes you think I owe you anything so as to grant you a request?" Athos replied, intrigued.

Gerard scrutinized him.

"You have defeated me in an honorable duel. You are bound by your honor," Gerard continued.

"I'm not so sure, Monsieur. After all, one could say that I do have a grievance against you."

Gerard held his breath and closed his eyes.

"It was no coincidence that you appeared in the same place as I, was it? You followed me."

"And you're intelligent as well," replied Athos sarcastically. He had been just a few paces away from the doorsteps of his beloved musketeer when he saw the door open, letting out a young man. He didn't have to see his face. He knew right away.

Gerard felt utterly helpless and defeated. He should have run away. Blast with upholding his honor! Who will rescue Marianne now? She was gone forever. Who knew where she was, with whom, and what dangers had befallen her? If only he had stayed, if only he hadn't let his anger and grief get the best of him. If only he hadn't gone to Aramis' demure. Marianne was more important.

Seeing the tortured look in the young man's eyes, Athos spoke gently, "But I will indulge you. What is your request, Monsieur? Or, rather, your requests?"

A light of hope shone through his eyes, destabilizing the musketeer.

"First and foremost, I beseech you to find the Comtesse Marianne de Dandurand and to ensure her safety with your life, if need be."

Athos raised his eyebrows. A heavy request! He was now certain that Gerard had nothing to do with the disappearance. No man who had committed a crime would be foolish enough to return to the scene in the hopes of rescuing his victim.

"And the second?"

Gerard looked away.

"To exonerate the musketeer Aramis. He had nothing to do with any of this. He's not an accomplice."

A long moment of silence passed between these two, the only sound was the rain still hammering down on them. It almost seemed as though the occasional lightning that came from the heavens actually originated from the electrified tension between the two men, as they continued to stare at each other in defiance.

The blade moved deeper into Gerard's skin; he could almost feel it penetrating through. He certainly felt a trickle of blood roll down his neck. He watched as the musketeer's hand tightly gripped his sword, at the ready to change its angle to strike. Athos had made decision.

In a swift movement, Gerard heard the blade move, cutting the rain above him and then… nothing.

He opened one eye hesitantly to see the outstretched hand of the musketeer, his sword in its sheath. He looked at him questioningly, bewildered with this near-death experience.

"It appears, Monsieur, that we have common interests. Which - for the moment at least - does not make you my enemy."

…..

The sound of metal clinking echoed through the small chamber.

"Is this really necessary?" complained the young man, his fingers encircling the metal bars that held him prisoner.

Athos chuckled, "I can't have anyone see that I, also, am consorting with an alleged accomplice of the Iron Mask. We must play by the rules, at least for tonight. Besides, how else will I ensure you won't escape and do something foolish?"

"The more we wait, the more danger Marianne could be in," he whined.

Athos sighed, "A few more hours won't make a difference."

But he was taken aback all of a sudden by the sight of tears that appeared out of nowhere on his prisoner's face.

Gerard turned away to hide his shame, wiping his face with his arm.

"You know how dangerous it is. She is a young woman. Unarmed and alone. There are robbers everywhere, men who are predators… she could be… you know what could happen… what they could do…" his voice was wavering.

Athos abased his eyes. Yes, he knew exactly. It suddenly dawned on him just what a disaster this whole thing had been. If only he hadn't interfered, if only he had supported Porthos instead of discouraging him. If only he had spent more time with Porthos, if only he had asked more questions, showed more interest rather than outright rejection. If only… He brought his hands to his face. Yes, a disaster. And now this young woman's life was in danger and he was complicit in it. His face turned the same color as his doublet.

"There's no use in thinking this way, Monsieur de Villebois. We have both ridden long distances today and we need our rest. Besides, we have been under the rain for a while and neither of us would be of any use if we catch an illness."

Having not received a response, he approached the holding cell.

"I give you my word that we will find her."

…

The following day was spectacularly sunny. Athos kept his word and he came with a tray of food and some news for his prisoner.

"We are in luck, M de Villebois. It appears that the Comte de Rochefort had been called away urgently on business."

"And you're certain that all the belongings of the Comte and his niece are being kept in his attic?"

Athos smiled mischievously and nodded.

"Now tell me everything you know, if you please."

Gerard took a deep breath and relayed the details.

…..

They were able to slip in unnoticed, thanks to Gerard's detection of secret passages. Naturally, the attic was heavily guarded but Athos brought a handkerchief doused with a sleeping potion to bring down the guards quietly.

For a split second here and there, Athos could almost swear he was on a mission with Aramis. They had similar humour, similar movements, a similar pattern of thought. Athos had to admit, he was even enjoying himself.

They rummaged through some trunks, pulling out clothes and papers and other belongings.

Athos searched the Comte's belongings while Gerard couldn't help but go through Marianne's items.

He pulled out one of her dresses, the one of pastel peach she had worn throughout the convention. He brought it to his nose to get a whiff of her scent and ended up burying his face in it. How he missed her! He missed her humor, her complaints, her adorable expression when she wanted something and couldn't have it. But mostly, the closeness. She was his home and he was homesick.

"Gerard," Athos called out to him, gesturing for him to continue the search. Gerard was startled by the unceremonious use of his first name and blushed at this subtle reproach.

"Exactly what were you planning to do when you've found her?" Athos asked casually as he examined some golden cufflinks that belonged to the Comte.

Gerard didn't answer. His fingers merely tightened their grip on the dress he held.

Athos looked up. It suddenly dawned on him. How best could a man protect a woman he cared for?

"You were planning on marrying her, weren't you?"

Gerard blushed and looked then answered in a low voice, "It's the most reasonable option. I can keep her safe. She will take my name and we could disappear. Already, everyone thinks she is dead. No one will know. No one will come looking. I can make a life for us."

Athos swallowed with difficulty. Yes, that was the most reasonable solution. But his heart broke for Porthos. What misfortune! Of all the women in the realm, he had to pick the one who was hunted by assassins and an angry Rochefort.

"And do you think she would be… agreeable to this solution?" he asked gently.

Gerard sniggered, "I highly doubt it."

"Then how do you propose to accomplish this mission if she is unwilling?"

Gerard sighed and crumpled the dress further, "I haven't yet thought that far."

As the dress folded a certain way, they heard a paper crumple. Gerard found an inner pocket that was carefully sowed up in the inner layer of the dress. He carefully tore it open, producing a thick letter.

They exchanged looks as Athos opened the letter and began to read it. It was a letter by the Comte de Dandurand.

"Well, you better start thinking, my friend, for this is a dangerous game you two have found yourselves in. A very dangerous game."

….

BONUS SCENE

Athos struggled with himself for a while. Can he bring himself to ask him? Why does he need to know, anyway? To have confirmation, maybe? She loved Gerard, he was now sure. From everything about him, it was difficult not to love him. If he himself had been inclined otherwise, who's to say he wouldn't have fallen in love with him? He had the one thing he didn't have; the one thing Capitaine de Treville pointed out to him: generosity of spirit.

He was honorable, contrite and fiercely loyal. But there existed an innocent vulnerability about him that he protected well and only shared with those he felt safe around. Just like Aramis. Naturally, they would understand each other. Gerard understood her instinctively. Unlike him, who would constantly say the wrong things and cling to his misconceptions.

And yes, he was sure she had shared herself with him and vice versa. Every time he came close to him, he could smell her on him. But far from feeling jealous, he felt ashamed. The shame and regret danced throughout his veins. He had hurt her… again and again. Then, he had let her go. How will he ever come back from this? Maybe there was no going back. Maybe they simply weren't meant to be. He made her miserable. He let his ghosts and his insecurities into the sacred space of their intimacy. He failed to protect her from the one thing he never thought he would have to protect her from: himself.

He was resolved: Aramis deserved better. And if that can't be him, then he will at least work to ensure her happiness no matter what it cost. No matter how painful it was.

The words came out with great difficulty.

"Does… Aramis know about your plan?" he attempted to sound casual.

Gerard, who had his back turned to Athos grinned to himself. And there it was.

"No," he simply said.

Athos cleared his throat, "And you don't think you owe it to… him to tell him?"

He turned around to face the musketeer, with a coy smile on his face.

"I don't, no. I do love her, if that's what you're asking. But we're not for each other."

Athos exhaled with… relief?

He said nothing and turned back to putting the belongings they dug up back in their place.

"Do you know," Gerard began, "For your glamorous reputation, you demonstrate a remarkable degree of stupidity. And frankly, if I may, you're a downright bastard."

Athos couldn't help but laugh. Not once had Gerard demonstrated any kind of unsolicited aggression or vile language. This was just adorable.

Gerard was puzzled at the musketeer's reaction.

"Do you know," Athos began, mimicking Gerard, "I don't disagree with you."

"Exactly, what is your plan in regards to Aramis?" Gerard asked, in the same tone that Athos had previously employed.

Grinning, Athos simply said, "Same as yours."

"And do you think she would be… agreeable to this proposition?"

Athos sniggered, "I highly doubt it."

"Then how do you propose to accomplish this mission if she is unwilling?"

"I haven't yet thought that far."

Gerard grinned, "Well, you better start thinking, my friend, for this is a dangerous game that you find yourself in. A very dangerous game."