A play on the soul mate marks idea … not slash, just brotherhood.
"Friends can be said to 'fall in like' with as profound a thud as romantic partners fall in love." Letty Cottin Pogrebin
Your spouse is found on the left ring finger, a beautiful scrawl in gold of their name that acts like a ring until the day a gold band is placed over it to confirm you've found them.
It turns red and aches if you betray them, it is said, sometimes forgiveness heals it, sometimes it never heals, even if you remove the hand, the pain lingers. The pain also affects the betrayed, a lesser ache, but still painful enough to know that your soulmate has betrayed you.
The marks of friends, comrades that one will live for as if they were a spouse, are anywhere on one's body, the closer to the heart, the stronger their bond.
Natural death turns the marks white, Death by another's hand turns them black.
D'Artagnan has two names on his ring finger, meaning his first love will die. It is a bitter-sweet curse, to know one of those names will turn someday.
Right above his heart, is an intricate marking, the names of three men linked with his own in an elaborate Fleur-de-lis, each name a slightly different shade of blue, and sometimes he thinks their names have letters inside the lines.
Athos, Aramis, Porthos, D'Artagnan. Nicknames, he knows, but his mother assures him that they will have the same mark in the same place.
It's hard to say the emotion when his father gasps the name of Athos, but his mark does not hurt, so it could not have been Athos that killed his father.
Athos wakes, the familiar ache in his left hand competing with the hangover from last night.
There is nothing to heal the pain, though the wine dulls it for a time. He changes his shirt, and wonders, not for the first time, who D'Artagnan is, and when they will meet. He's fairly sure the name is familiar to Treville, based on his reaction, but the man will not say.
Porthos does not have a name on his finger, or he doesn't think he does. It is a golden set of waves that wrap around his finger, a mystery even to the priests who study the marks. It is not unusual for names to appear later in life, and so he does not worry. He has three brothers to look out for, though it frustrates him that they cannot go and search for their missing brother.
Aramis has no name. He has a gold Fleur-de-lis (which was once theorized to be a cross by a poor sighted priest, and he joined the priesthood until someone with eyes corrected him) and it is surrounded by a red line. There is no pain, but it is a sign his love will never be married to him.
The mystery of D'Artagnan is brought up on occasion, and Athos is silent this time as they walk to Treville's office to report they did not find Cornet.
"I'm looking for Athos of the Musketeers." A young man rides into the garrison, holding his ribs slightly, eyes fixing on the trio who are the closest to him.
"You've found him."
"My name is D'Artagnan, someone using your name killed my father two nights ago." The young man dismounts and sways on his feet the instant he steps towards him, and Aramis shoves past Athos to catch him.
"I'm Aramis, that's Porthos." Aramis introduces as he helps the boy to the table.
"Been wondering when we'd meet you!" Porthos grins as he takes the horse's reins, it falters as Aramis hisses as he sees the angry line of red that is left from a sword. It does not need stitches, but it needs a better cleaning.
"Who did this?" Athos asks.
"That's what I'd like to know." D'Artagnan murmurs, and grits his teeth as Aramis pressed a sore spot.
Athos's arrest has the three remaining tense, and Treville doesn't bother asking why they immediately ride out, desperate to prove their brother's innocence.
It is too soon for one of their names to go black when they have finally just met.
May post more some other time.