Equine 14: I'll consider prompts! We'll see what I can come up with for yours!
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Aramis spent another restless night waking from nightmares, and neither Athos nor Porthos got much sleep as they pondered what to do for him. Eating had no pleasure for Aramis since the traumatic event in Savoy, as memories of seeing his fellow musketeers hacked to pieces still consumed him. Marsac's betrayal was still a fresh wound in itself, and that alone would be enough to take away his appetite.
If this continued, Aramis would fall ill from malnutrition and eventually die. For all they knew, that could be one reason why he kept passing out.
Athos sighed as he walked down the street the next morning. Aramis was asleep and Porthos was watching him, so he'd decided to go for a walk to clear his head and try to figure out what to do. As he walked, he suddenly spotted a bakery, and on a whim, went inside. Who didn't like pastry? Perhaps Aramis would enjoy such a treat.
On the counter was something that Athos didn't expect to see; tins of liquid chocolate. It was a delicacy that Queen Anne had brought to France years earlier as a gift for King Louis. It was extremely expensive, and Athos remembered how much his own wife had enjoyed drinking it hot before bedtime…
Athos shook his head, dispelling his thoughts. Aramis was most important right now, and Athos would spare no cost in helping him regain his health. He bought some pastries and a tin of the chocolate and left.
Porthos was dozing in a chair when Athos went back into Aramis' room, and he was glad to see that their wounded friend was quietly sleeping. He knew that it probably wouldn't last long, so he was as quiet as possible. He'd gotten some milk and a small pot from Serge along the way, and combined the milk and some of the chocolate into the pot to warm on the fire.
Aramis woke half an hour later. He sat straight up in his bed, breathing heavily.
Porthos instantly woke and was out of his chair so fast that it seemed like he moved before his eyes were even open. Sitting on the bed, he put a hand on his friend's back. "Hey, hey, take it easy."
The fast movement proved to be too much for Aramis' still-healing brain, and he closed his eyes when his head lolled dizzily and bumped against his friend's shoulder.
Porthos wrapped his arm around him to prevent him from falling over. He could feel him shivering. "Another dream?"
Aramis sighed. "No, just…" He frowned. "I'm not sure. Maybe. If so, I don't remember it."
The others were glad of that.
Aramis remained where he was, head lying on Porthos' shoulder. He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling comfortable and safe.
Athos waited, letting him rest for a while before he said, "Aramis? I have something I'd like you to try."
"Hmm?" Aramis replied, sleepily.
"There is a delicacy called 'chocolate' that the queen brought to Paris as a gift to the king when they were wed," Athos said. "It is warmed in milk, and tastes like..." he paused. "Nothing I can describe."
The word 'warm' got through to Aramis, and he said, "All right."
Athos used a ladle to pour some into a cup, and took a sip to make sure it wasn't too hot. The rich taste almost made him close his eyes with pleasure; he'd almost forgotten how delicious it was, having not had any since becoming a musketeer. He brought it over to the bed and sat on Aramis' other side. "Here," he said.
Aramis raised his head from Porthos' shoulder and immediately noticed the scent. With a curious expression, he raised a hand to take the cup, holding onto it even when Athos didn't let go. Once he tasted it, his eyes opened wider and he looked at Athos. "What did you say this is?" he asked, before sipping it again.
"Chocolate," Athos told him.
Aramis took the cup out of his hand and continued to drink it.
Curious, Porthos went over to the pot on the fire and tasted it himself. He made a face.
Athos was surprised. "You don't like it?"
"I dunno," said Porthos. "It tastes…strange."
"Not to me," said Aramis, finishing his cup. "Where did you get this?"
"The bakery a half-mile down the road," Athos told him. "I didn't know they sold it until today when I went in for some pastries."
'Pastry' was the magic word for Porthos, and he came back to the bed.
Aramis looked at Athos. "Can I have some more?"
Athos smiled; a rare, real smile. "Of course you can, my friend." He refilled the cup and brought it back.
They ate the pastries—even Aramis, though he only managed one. He licked his lips after finishing his second cup of hot chocolate. "Where has this been hiding all my life?"
Porthos was amazed to hear such a 'normal' statement from Aramis, and looked at Athos with delight, realizing the implications; finally, something to entice Aramis' appetite.
"I'm glad you like it," Athos said. "I bought it especially for you."
Aramis was touched. Marsac had abandoned him, but he had two better friends right here.
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From then on, Athos made sure that Aramis never ran out of chocolate. He enjoyed the drink so much that Athos became the bakery's main customer, and the owner was overjoyed, as it was very expensive and he was making a lot of money.
Athos never blinked at the cost; Aramis' health was worth every coin.
One morning a week later, Athos had been surprised at what he'd found in the bakery upon his arrival, and he'd left with more than just the liquid chocolate. When he walked into Aramis' room, he didn't expect to find Aramis sitting up in bed with his head in his hands. Porthos was sitting beside him with a hand on his back.
Aramis was making occasional distressed noises, and suddenly fisted his hands in his hair.
Athos was so surprised at the unexpected scene that he just stared for a few seconds. When he'd left, Aramis had been sleeping peacefully. "What happened?!" he asked, putting the sack down and rushing to the bed.
"He suddenly woke this way, in pain," Porthos told him, rubbing their injured friend's back.
Athos closed the curtains to block the sunlight before setting the basin of water on the bed and dropping a cloth into it. He quickly sat beside his friend and gently pulled Aramis' hands out of his hair. Once he'd succeeded, he placed a hand under his friend's chin and carefully lifted his head, holding the wet cloth against his forehead in an attempt to ease the pain.
Aramis' eyes were squeezed shut, but he opened them with a gasp at the feel of the cold water.
Athos noticed how pale he was. "Are you going to be ill?"
Aramis closed his eyes against the stabbing pain that laced through his head. "No," he whispered.
Athos was relieved at that. "Why aren't you lying down?"
"He said the blood was rushin' to 'is head," said Porthos. "And makin' it worse,"
Athos sighed, before gently pushing Aramis to lean against Porthos. "Just rest," he said, rewetting the cloth before holding it to his friend's forehead again.
Aramis echoed the sigh, eyes squeezed shut.
The day passed slowly and painfully for all of them; Aramis suffered physically while his friends had to suffer mentally. It wasn't until nearly evening that Aramis was recovered sufficiently to see what Athos had brought.
"The baker had something new," Athos said, taking out a small box and bringing it over to the bed. Opening it, he held it out to Aramis.
Lying partially upright, Aramis raised a slightly-shaking hand and took out something square and brown. "Solid chocolate?"
Athos nodded with a slight smile, moving to offer the box to Porthos.
Aramis took a bite and his eyebrows rose. "I never knew anything like this existed," he remarked.
"It must only be bought by the wealthy," Porthos said, as he tasted it too.
Aramis suddenly looked at Athos, and his pale face turned even whiter. "Is it expensive?"
Athos shook his head. "No." Not for him, anyway.
Aramis was suspicious at his answer, looking at the piece of chocolate as if he wasn't sure that he should eat it.
"I'm not going to stop buying it," said Athos. "So you may as well eat it."
"If you don't, then I'm gonna," said Porthos, chomping on the piece that he'd snatched.
Aramis took another bite of his, and some color came back into his face. It was more than obvious how much he enjoyed the taste.
Athos looked at Porthos, one eyebrow raised. "You don't like it warmed in milk, yet you like it solid?"
"I may have to give the drink another chance," Porthos said, grabbing the box from Athos and shoving another piece into his mouth while he sat on the side of Aramis' bed. Suddenly, he looked up and held out the box towards Athos. "Oh, did you want some?" he asked, words distorted from his mouth being full.
Athos gave him The Look.
At that, Aramis gave a soft chuckle. It was a sound that the other two hadn't heard from him since Savoy, and it was like music to their ears.
TBC
