"Those two appear to be inseparable these days," Aramis mentioned to Athos and Porthos, looking over at D'Artagnan and Julien sitting and talking animatedly at the Garrison table. As is typical with young men of their age, every life experience was worthy of passionate scrutiny to be shared with a friend; and Julien was enraptured with the missions that D'Artagnan had already shared with the three Inseparables during his short but already storied time spent with the legendary men.
Julien was a new recruit that had only joined the ranks of the Garrison within the last few weeks. Perhaps due to their age similarity, D'Artagnan took to him immediately.
"I'll say this for Julien," Porthos commented. ''E knows 'is way round a deck 'a' cards. Saw 'im at the Wren the other night. Kid knows what 'e's doin."
"So, he should be your new best friend, is what you're saying," Aramis teased.
It was a hard day's night.
Porthos and Aramis knew the drill. Athos, apropos of nothing had mentioned that it was his dead younger brother Thomas' birthday that morning. The pronouncement coming out of nowhere was Athos' way of telling them, it's the reason for anything stupid or hurtful- to myself and others- I may do or say today.
When the day progressed into the evening, a delicate tightrope of careful vigilance and benign but watchful distance was the order of the day.
The space they needed to afford Athos was more to allow Athos' indulgence of the lesser angels of his nature. He was allowed by his two brothers to wallow in his grief, in the festering belief that he alone was responsible for Thomas' demise.
This wasn't always the case- since Athos had just recently come clean to Porthos and Aramis about his wife and younger brother (D'Artagnan standing there, already privy to all of it, of course, watching the stunned faces of his two brothers as they absorbed the information), they had tried to assuage Athos of his guilt. If Athos was sober, he seemed a bit amenable to the suggestion; however, if drunk, his tendency was to bitterly lash out, and to say things as mean-spirited as he could muster, the subtext being to push them away and just leave him alone. Aramis and Porthos had learned the hard way to give him a wide berth at such times; luckily so far, D'Artagnan had been absent during such episodes.
It was a testament to the strength of Aramis' and Porthos' friendship that any verbal barbs thrust at them from an inebriated, hurting Athos were forgotten and never brought up again. Athos, for his part, typically forgot them in any case; however, were his brothers not the forgiving type, they might feel they were within their rights to ask for an apology. Like the expert swordsman that he was, Athos seemed to know exactly where to strike verbally, in order to exact the most pain. With Aramis, the vulgar comments usually involved denigrating his religion, or not so innocently asking where Adele went off to. Porthos was subject to comments about his upbringing that readers of this tale will be spared, in the interests of decency and decorum.
Compounding Athos' recent wide variance of emotions was his residual feelings for Ninon de Larroque; it was only the past week that the entire affair with this complex, beautiful woman unfolded, and Athos was still a bit out of sorts based on his feelings for her. Whatever stirrings Ninon managed to stir in him, couldn't help but remind him of- her.
Milady's treacherous involvement in the whole Ninon affair still had Athos seething. So many dark thoughts swirling in his mind, feeding his anger and frustration, each one fighting for purchase- the frustration in no one believing his rants that Milady can't be trusted, how close her evil machinations made her almost end Ninon, Thomas' death…
Yes, inexorably married to thoughts of Milady was the pain of losing his younger brother. Everyone's favorite. And perhaps it was hubris on his part to believe he could have prevented what his wife did to dear beloved Thomas, but God help him, he couldn't help it.
Everyone's favorite. The light of his and everyone else's life. Too good for this world.
A sentiment easily equated to the recent new firebrand had literally erupted into the lives of Athos and his brothers.
He would move heaven and earth to prevent anything to happen to D'Artagnan. Yet the boy made it difficult to protect, blazing forward into danger with an ardent disregard for his own well-being. God help him if Athos' world and the boy's collided. He would not survive the loss of yet another young brother.
So when Porthos, Aramis, and Athos found themselves at the Wren that night, and Athos took his own table alone, his two brothers sat by themselves, looking no more than two jailed convicts awaiting their sentencing. Still, with a little luck, they might just get themselves and their hurting brother through this evening unscathed.
Porthos spotted Julien at a nearby table, engaged again in a card game. Porthos noticed Julien's intense gaze and recognized it as- he could not at the moment put a finger on it.
D'Artagnan had snagged early night watch duty, a fact that both Porthos and Aramis had silently thanked God for. Speaking of God, God bless that boy- though not yet a Musketeer, his willingness as a recruit to perform any task, however menial, was a godsend to all of them.
What they couldn't have counted on was Athos unwillingness to leave.
Much later, any gentle suggestion from Porthos or Aramis that they call it a night was met with derision, or a growl.
"Well, if we were to count our blessings, at least the crowd has thinned a bit," Aramis said, looking for the silver lining.
"Yeah- less folks for Athos to look sideways at, or start up with," Porthos said.
But perhaps their luck was running out. D'Artagnan entered the tavern.
The young man spotted Porthos and Aramis and shot them a bright smile. He walked over and while D'artagnan was greeting them, Athos glanced over and said, loud enough for them to hear, "him again."
The three other men glanced at Athos briefly, but Porthos ignored him and made a comment to D'artagnan about their most recent mission, to which D'artagnan began to reply. Again, Athos interrupted D'artagnan, only louder this time. "Why are you here?"
Silence from Porthos, Aramis, and D'artagnan. "Pardon?" D'artagnan asked, still smiling and not comprehending.
Athos laid down his drink. "It was a simple question. Why are you here?"
"Athos, I don't understand-"
"Oh, then you're a simpleton as well? Let me re-phrase the question," Athos asked, now standing up. "Who invited you?"
"Athos…," Aramis said, lowering his head.
D'artagnan now looked confused and uncomfortable. "I- I suppose-"
"I- I- I- I-", Athos mimicked the boy's stutter, mockingly. "No one did, boy. You're just a hanger-on, and these two (pointing to Aramis and Porthos) are too polite to tell you what I will. You're not a Musketeer, never will be, so stop embarrassing yourself by pretending to be one by coming 'round when you're not wanted. A pathetic pretender is all you are."
D'artagnan was in shock. "You don't mean that," he managed to croak out, throwing out an angry glance at his mentor.
Athos continued. "Just leave now, and when we wish to see you again, you'll know."
Aramis said to D'artagnan, "D'Artagnan, perhaps it's best you go now."
Porthos yelled, "Aramis!"
D'artagnan, now shaking, regained enough composure to say in a cracked voice, "I- I best take my leave then."
Athos, continuing his mocking tone: "Why don't you take your leave, then?"
With that, D'artagnan almost ran out of the tavern.
Porthos swung around to Aramis: "What was that about? Tellin' 'im to leave?!"
Aramis just waved his hand at Athos, who was sitting again. "He's obviously in a state. So we should subject the boy to more of his torments?"
Porthos got up. "Alright, this is over. Athos, c'm on. Now. And I know I have a thick neck, but still I'd appreciate it if you didn't bite my 'ead off like you did the pup."
Remarkably, Athos did as he was told. Not a word was exchanged between the three of them as they managed to get Athos back to his rooms.