Sow The Wind

by Keesha

The three musketeers are in the early stages of what will become a lifelong friendship. At this point, the musketeer regiment is made up of nobles who grudgingly acknowledge the Inseparables prowess in fighting, but really believe that they should not be part of the garrison, unless it is as servants. The three men are all trying to find their place in the world.

7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The night was mostly uneventful with Athos restless at times, though after a few minutes he would settle once more. To the musketeers' relief, Athos did not have any terrifying nightmares for a change. The morning found his attitude back to its normal, stoic, brooding, closed-off self. Attempts to engage him in conversation were met with single word answers, nods or silence and soon the other two gave up. They headed back to camp with Porthos and Aramis bantering over a wide range of subjects and Athos dourly refusing to be drawn in, though occasionally the corner of this mouth would twitch at his brothers' antics.

Their arrival at the camp coincided with the serving of breakfast, much to Porthos' delight, and he immediately found a place to dump their possessions so he could join the line of soldiers waiting for their rations. Aramis added his own load to the untidy pile on ground, shrugging at Athos.

"Food is important to Porthos. And as a good soldier, you never let a meal go by because you have no idea how long it will be to the next one."

Athos gave Aramis a sideways glance before letting his eyes wander back to the line of hungry men.

"Come. Drop your stuff and let's go celebrate the gloriousness of another day from our Lord by breaking our fast."

Athos carefully placed his bundle on the ground next to the untidy pile and allowed Aramis to sling an arm over his shoulder and lead him towards the line. The Comte turned musketeer was getting used to his brethren's tactile exuberance, arms slung over shoulders, slaps on the back, hands cupped with care on the back of the neck, things that had made him cringe and move away when he first became part of their merry little band. Now, he might give a small flinch and an exasperated eye roll, but he had generally learned to endure their intrusions on his person.

His environment growing up as a child was in many aspects rather cold and indifferent. Rules were to be obeyed, commands promptly responded too, emotions kept in tight control, displays of affection were frowned upon and detached order was expected at all times. Perhaps it was one of the reasons he fell so hard for Anne when he met her. While she could display a cool facade, she was also very warm and embracing with him. Her ready smile, her spontaneous touch, which often strayed into forbidden zones, sent shivers down his spine. She drew smiles and laughter out of him as no one had done before and he quickly became besotted with her.

And look how that turned out, he reminded himself before shrugging off Aramis' arm with a touch of anger. His displeasure was not at Aramis, but at the memory of his wife. Perhaps his parents had been right with their cool, aloof manner. Love was a fairy tale.

Aramis sensed the shift in Athos' mood and took no offense as his arm dropped back to his side. He took no umbrage, understanding to some degree the complicated man walking at this side. The marksman knew he was pushing Athos past his comfort zone every time he made a physical gesture towards the man, whether a hearty slap on the back or a gentle pat on the shoulder. But he felt it was good for the swordsman to be pushed and he was slowly seeing Athos accepting the gestures and dropping his guard a little, at least around him and Porthos, and Aramis felt that was a positive sign. They had to trust each other to be an effective team and, slowly, that trust was building in the scarred Athos.

After the three men had collected their food, they moved off to one side to sit and eat out of the way. Those that had finished their repast were being put to work breaking down the camp and loading the wagons. Aramis wolfed through his food even faster than Porthos as he was anxious to go help with the care and transportation of the wounded men he had doctored yesterday. Athos ate at his normal, steady rate, treating this as a necessary chore to get over with and move on. Porthos ate with his usual full concentration and of course went back for seconds.

After the two musketeers turned in their bowls, Lieutenant Allade, came up to them and sent them off to help load the remaining wagons with the gear the musketeers had brought to the battle. Captain Treville moved about the camp in his usual methodical manner ensuring all was getting done and soon the regiment was ready to depart. The wagons were loaded, the men were mounted and Treville gave the hand signal to move out.