(A/N: This is a pirate AU that features a bisexual, female Aramis at the helm. This story also features a polyamorous relationship between Porthos du Vallon, Aramis and Queen Anne. If that's not your cup of tea, then please skip this fic.)
Dawn bathed the waters of the Bay of Biscay in a golden hue as the Rosa de la Sirena made it's way toward the coast of France. It had been nearly a year since the ship had docked in these familiar waters, but they did not provide the ease that the crew had expected. Porthos du Vallon's heart thudded in his breast with each breath as he debated what should be done next. The captain was sleeping below deck, and had asked not to be disturbed unless it was important. Porthos thought this development might qualify as important, but knew better than to trouble Aramis when he could easily solve such a quandary himself.
The very idea that they could be returning to French soil after a year away was unsettling to Porthos for reasons that he could not quite place. He had expected they might return someday, but only when Aramis decided that she was ready to come back and face the world that they had left behind. They were not the same as they had been a year prior, when Anne of Austria had been on the verge of death for an affair that no one could prove. Porthos had been accused of being the lover of the Spanish queen, an accusation that was best denied. Renee d' Herblay was his best friend, closer to him than any blood family had ever been. Porthos laughed at the very idea of knowing what the concept of blood family was; his own mother had died poor and virtually alone in the Court of Miracles in Paris. Her death had shaken him to the core, and he had only found his purpose again in joining the Musketeers. Renee had joined the regiment only a few years ahead of him, poised to become one of its brightest stars.
Her mark had been made in the battle of Savoy. She'd served as a heroine, one of the only members left of a regiment of men attacked and slaughtered there. Determined to prove her worth, she'd stayed to become a member of a small but elite unit of Musketeers counted on for the King's most important tasks. Porthos understood when the stresses of the position had torn her three ways, between her love for the life of a soldier and the desire to live in quiet contemplation under the guise of a devotion to the Cross.
Just look at where we are now. The sea's been a fair mistress, and she doesn't judge us for being who we are. He cast a glance to Renee when she emerged from her quarters, now free to wear her muslin skirts and cotton blouses, her belt carefully protecting the pistol at her hip. It was the first time in years he had seen his friend in actual women's clothing. Her short curls whipped around her face in the wind, reminding Porthos of her beauty.
It's not safe to think about 'Mis that way, unless I want to lose my heart. The reminder bounced around Porthos' brain; he could not afford to think of her as anything more than a companion. He had forced himself to think of her not as a woman but as his equal. He had fought not to let himself become distracted by her, but it was not an easy feat.
She had not needed to hide herself here as she had when they were living in Paris, but now. . . It seemed cruel that she should return to using a man's name and style of dress to keep herself safe. She was never meant to be shackled by the constraints of gender. Porthos loved her even more for it. If nothing else, it provided him plenty of ammunition suitable for teasing her. This morning was no exception. Porthos had been her closest friend for years and knew exactly how to push her buttons. It was not wise to cross her so early in the morning, but he could not help it.
"Mornin', Aramis. And they say havin' a woman aboard is bad luck." Aramis rolled her eyes at the low, rumbling laugh that eminated from her companion's throat. Porthos was lucky she trusted him implicitly as her first mate, or else he would be swimming his way back to Paris by now. He watched her place her hands on her hips, and flinched when her words came as a soft growl.
"Quiet, you. I will put a ball in your shoulder."
"You know I love a woman with violent tendencies. Oh no, wait. That's you." Aramis' laugh echoed over the water before she turned, her skirts rustling gently as she moved. She was tall, her arms toned from the work of managing the day to day operation of the Rosa la Sirena. Her face had begun to turn a golden brown, highlighting her dark eyes and curls. She knew that she should go below deck and change into more appropriate clothes, but the temptation to stay here with Porthos won her over with each passing second. There was a part of her that had expected to spend the rest of her life on the water, living freely on the sea where no one could tell her what she should be doing or tie her to the same fate as her mother, or worse, to be doomed to remain in a convent for the rest of her days.
"We're home, 'mis. It's been a long time, but now. . .", Porthos trailed, a hand placed protectively around his companion's waist. He had come on this voyage because he needed something different, and Aramis was a host unto herself. Without him she would have been doomed. To expect him not to travel with his closest friend was foolish at best; at worst it was a deadly mistake. Porthos had taken an oath long ago that the connection between the two of them would be severed only by death. After all, someone had to keep Aramis' head on her shoulders. Otherwise, she might wind up in more trouble than she knew how to handle.
He could temper the impulsive nature that lead her to do brave albeit sometimes stupid things.
"So we are. As freeing as this has been, I'll be happy to be a civilized woman again. I should get changed. We know the king will likely have quite the welcome for us." It remained to be seen what exactly the King's welcome would entail. Piracy was frowned upon, but King Louis was flighty and could not make up his mind from day to day on the proper fate of those caught in the acts of piracy. How could she be certain that they would not face calls for imprisonment or worse, for execution?
"Louis is likely to want our necks; I'm not sure it's safe to go back until someone has scouted the situation for us." Porthos shook his head; he knew Aramis was not likely to listen to him. He had come with her if for no other reason than to save the impulsive captain from herself. Left to her own devices, Aramis might have died or been killed before she was able to make it home. She had always been headstrong and impulsive. Before, when the sea was in charge, it had been simpler to keep her in line. But now, he knew she would want to fall back into their old habits again, and he knew it might get them killed. He wanted to keep that from happening at all costs.
"Very well. Then we let Athos know we're back. If he can't scout for us, d'Artagnan will. They never wanted us to leave, and they were willing to protect our secrets. We have allies, Porthos; all is never lost as long as they remain on our side." Porthos desperately needed to get back to land. An ale and a chance to tell his adventures to the men he'd once counted as comrades had been sorely missed during his voyages. There were many stories to recount, and d'Artagnan had most likely been starved for action since they had left. They would never have done so without knowing that France was safe. Neither Porthos nor Aramis had any idea of the tumult that awaited them the moment they set foot on land again. Their return would set in motion a complicated web of circumstances that was bound to turn France on its head.