Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to either Alexandre Dumas or his descendents.
Chapter Sixteen: What Are You Up To?
Elizabeth awoke slowly. By the look of the light, it was well past midday. She stretched slowly; then realized that she was still draped over Athos chest. She smiled and settled back into his arms. They'd made love most of the morning and it was no wonder he still slept. She was surprised she woke at all. She was just thinking about waking him up when Porthos burst into the tent. Her eyes slammed shut in a parody of sleep.
"Athos! Have you seen-?" he started, but stopped at the sight of the couple lying entwined on the cot.
Athos jerked awake, then lifted his head to see who it was. "Kindly lower your voice Porthos. If you wake her, I swear by all that is holy I'll murder you."
Elizabeth bit back a giggle. She was already on the verge of a blush, her and Athos had only a blanket covering them up to his waist.
"I see you had a better night than I did." Porthos raised an eyebrow.
Athos dropped his head back to the cot. If there had been a pillow there, it'd been lost sometime during their tryst. He wasn't about to complain. "What's the time Porthos?"
"You've got about an hour before Monsieur Trèville expects us."
Athos looked at him pointedly.
"And I'll be leaving now." Porthos finished and ducked out of the tent.
Athos idly stroked his hand down her back. Elizabeth's leg was draped over his and she was using his chest as a pillow. He debated waking her, but rethought it when her lips feathered across his skin. He bit back a groan.
"Are you just going to let me sleep through the evening?"
Athos smiled to himself, "You're not asleep."
"You didn't know that." She pointed out, rolling on top of him and coming up on her elbows.
He reached his hands between them to cover her breasts. Her hair fell forward in a curtain around them, "Again Athos? Do you think we have time?"
Athos laughed, "I'm afraid this won't take nearly as long as I want it to." She smiled and their lips met.
They were late for the meeting.
Not by too long, but long enough for Trèville to raise an eyebrow at their entrance together. "Glad you could join us."
Elizabeth blushed to the roots of her hair- and much to the Musketeers delight, so did Athos.
Trèville continued from where he had been when they entered. "When we come within a league of their encampment, you five will ride on ahead to kill the leader, this Philippe."
"Five?" Elizabeth questioned. Four Musketeers and… she turned to Louis, "Sorry old boy, looks like you're staying behind."
Louis smirked at her, "I'm not the one who's staying behind."
Aramis clarified, "You're the one staying Elizabeth."
She turned on him, eyes and hands flashing steel, "I'd like to see you enforce that."
"Lizabetae Medici!" Trèville roared, "When I gave you your first lesson in defending yourself, what were you taught?"
Elizabeth quickly put away her knives and hung her head, "To only use my powers for good." Even scolded, she couldn't help but quip.
Trèville rolled his eyes. "You will not be joining the ambush, and if I had my way, you wouldn't even come within five leagues of the attack." He turned back to the map on the tale, "It looks like there's about six to seven hundred men camped over there, which gives us about two to one odds. But we're trained soldiers, whereas our enemies are mostly peasants, which should lessen the odds considerably."
"I've been wondering about that." D'Artagnan pointed out, "In a normal battle we would take prisoners, but this is a revolt from our own people."
"We will give no quarter. The men in this army, however ragtag, are traitors to the king, and therefore will be executed. No prisoners." Trèville declared.
"How can you say that?" Elizabeth demanded, "Most of these men are barely more than peasants, they don't know any better. Only that the institutions they live under are wrong, and one man is offering them relief from it." She was obviously still a bit upset over Trèville's decree and looking to fight over something.
"Desperate circumstances or not, they are traitors." D'Artagnan pointed out.
"What can be more shameless than for society to punish those whom it has goaded to the breach of order, instead of amending its own institutions which, by straining order into tyranny, produced the problem in the first place?" Elizabeth sounded furious.
"Well said." Aramis praised, a bit stunned by her eloquence.
"I'm not the first to say it." She demurred.
"Why me?" Trèville sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "Fine, any man who asks for mercy will be given it. Otherwise…" he trailed off rather than finish, "does that work for you?"
Elizabeth nodded.
"I'm so glad. Are there any other issues someone would like to bring up, or are we ready to go?"
"I have an issue."
Six sets of eyes turned to Athos.
"I'm truly sorry to have to bring this up Porthos, but I'm going to have to ask you this question."
Porthos' eyes narrowed, "Yes?"
"You have a tattoo between your shoulder blades, where did you get it?"
Aramis looked taken aback, he had nearly forgotten.
"I beg your pardon?"
Athos sighed, "Elizabeth, what is the sign in the Sons of the Sign?"
"A triangle bisected by three lines from the center." She answered confused.
"Porthos," it was Aramis who asked this time, "would you mind taking off your shirt?"
"Yes I would."
"Do it." Trèville commanded.
Porthos grumbled but did as he was told. When they had him turn, everyone immediately saw what the two men were talking about. On his back was the tattoo, a falcon superimposed over a triangle standing on its point.
"Porthos," Elizabeth asked slowly, reaching out to trace the lines. Athos suppressed the urge to snatch her hand back. "Why do you have this tattooed on your back?"
Porthos craned his head around, "What tattoo?"
D'Artagnan choked back a laugh.
"It is possible." Louis pointed out, "He wouldn't be able to see it without a couple of looking glasses."
"And Porthos does drink a lot." Aramis was laughing.
Elizabeth met Porthos' pleading gaze and took pity on him, "Apparently you got quite drunk one night and some member of the Sons of the Sign marked you as their own."
"What!?!" Porthos proceeded to turn in a couple of circles trying to see the space between his shoulder blades.
"Do we believe that?" Athos asked his fellow Musketeers.
"It makes more sense, sadly enough." Aramis pointed out.
"Put your shirt back on Porthos." Trèville ordered.
Once he had complied, he turned on Elizabeth, "Quit laughing."
"You have to admit it's rather funny." She pointed out, "I mean, your friends have obviously harbored doubts about you for quite some time, but you were completely oblivious as to the reason. Porthos, that's quite nearly the definition of funny."
"It certainly qualifies as situational irony." Aramis remarked dryly.
"Ha, ha." Porthos intoned with a wealth of sarcasm. "Anyone else want to impugn my honor?" No one took him up on it.
"Mount up, we're on our way then." Trèville announced.
"Impugn." Aramis whispered to Porthos as they left, "I didn't even know you knew a word like that, nevertheless when to use it."
"You're just a barrel of laughs today aren't you?"
"It's a gift." Aramis shrugged modestly.
"Milady," Mosqueton caught Elizabeth on her way out, "I found these in your saddlebags. I cleaned them in case you might want to wear them."
She looked down at the clothes in his hands and smiled. "You're a lifesaver, Porthos is lucky to have you." She ducked back in the tent quickly to change.
When she emerged, she was wearing the pants and overcoat that Porthos had met her in. He let out a low whistle at the sight of her before remembering Athos' claim.
Athos pulled Elizabeth off to the side. "What are you up to?"
Elizabeth put on her best innocent face. "Why Athos, whatever do you mean."
"You barely batted and eye when Trèville told you you weren't going and now you show up dressed like this, so I ask you again, what are you up to?"
"Don't you trust me?"
Athos ran a frustrated hand through his hair. She reached up and took it, bringing him closer to her.
"Athos, I currently have no plans on defying Monsieur Trèville's edict that I stay with him. Is that what you wanted to know?"
Athos nodded.
"Then kiss me for luck."
"Here?"
"No, when we get back to Paris- yes here."
Athos couldn't help but laugh when he dropped his lips to hers. It didn't last long. The Musketeers could not let such behavior by one of their own pass unnoticed. The kiss was broken by a variety of cat calls and cheers. Elizabeth blushed.
"Damn Musketeers." She mumbled.
"I love you." Athos whispered into her ear.
She pulled his lips back to her, heedless of the men around them. It wasn't until Elizabeth was riding with Trèville and Athos had caught up to his friends that he realized…
She had yet to tell him she loved him.