Author's Notes: One of my favorite new games is to write from an outsider's point of view.
I own very little and absolutely nothing related to The Musketeers.
"Caroline." She blinked awake, hand moving to her pistol. Aramis was pulling his braces to his shoulders, with barely restrained agitation. "They're here."
She hear it now, the sounds of men and horses filling the courtyard. She followed Aramis out to the balcony. She quickly spotted Edwards and her guards and her ladies, seemingly unhurt. Caroline took her first easy breath in days. Her eyes skimming over the Musketeers. They looked road-weary, but she didn't spot many injuries past cuts and bruises.
Athos nodded to Aramis, who lifted a hand in greeting, but continued to scan the filling yard. She felt her smile die on her lips.
"Oh no," she whispered and leaned out, searching for sight of a tall, dark Musketeer. Beside her, Aramis had a white-knuckled grip on the railing, his eyes darting from one figure to another.
"Looking for someone?"
Porthos stood at the end of the walkway, thumbs hooked in his belt and smiling in a very self-satisfied manner.
Aramis did not release his hold on the railing, but let his chin fall to his chest. Caroline watched uncertainly as he sucked in gasping breaths, like he had just surfaced from some great depth. But when he looked up, his smile broke like the dawn. Porthos laughed his deep, rolling laugh and held out his hand. Aramis took it and pulled the big man into an embrace. Caroline didn't miss the wince that flashed across his face and Aramis must have felt it, because he immediately pulled back.
"You're hurt?"
"It's a scratch, I'm fine." Aramis leveled Porthos with a stern look.
"You will of course understand if I don't take your word for it. Let me see."
"You know I will," said Porthos grudgingly. "Admit it," he teased, reaching out to pat Aramis' chest. "I frightened you." Aramis covered the hand with his own.
"I was quaking." The words felt like a well-rehearsed joke between friends, but deeper somehow. Caroline had the distinct feeling she was witnessing something intimate and cleared her throat softly.
Porthos stepped back from Aramis and bowed. When he straightened up, she dipped into the deepest curtsy, one knee to the floor and stayed there. She looked up at this man, who'd been willing to die to protect her. Who would have done it gladly.
"I am not a fool, Monsieur Porthos. I do not think myself grand because of an accident of birth. I know much of who and what I am is due to chance and luck. And you prove it further. I owe you everything, for what you did." Porthos looked down at her, flabbergasted. He took a few stuttering steps and then quickly reached down to draw her to her feet.
"I woulda done it for anyone."
"I know," she did nothing to temper the wonder in her voice. "I know and believe me, it does not diminish the act in my eyes. The knowledge that you would sacrifice like that for anyone only adds to your esteem. Whether it was for me or for peace, it does not matter. You fight for people who cannot fight for themselves. That is bravery. That is heroic." Porthos looked as if he would argue, but he stopped and stared at her. She met his dark, searching gaze. Whatever he found, Porthos stood a little straighter, a bit taller and he smiled. He was suddenly innocence and light, in a way that surprised her.
"'M not usually the hero."
"I find that very hard to believe, Monsieur. Today, you most certainly are." He dipped his head again, unable to hide his pleasure.
"My lady!" Caroline looked down to the courtyard to see her attendants waving with joyful smiles, Edwards just beside them. Porthos quietly stepped back toward Aramis and she hurried to the steps and down to the ground.
Edwards stood tall and straight and beautifully alive. He bowed slightly.
"My lady, I am pleased to see you well."
Propriety. Dignity. Deportment.
All of it flashed through her head and she firmly decided she didn't care. The courtyard was a cacophony of reunion, relief and life. Why should she hold herself apart from it?
Caroline reached up and wrapped her arms around her captain's neck.
"Allan," she said. Nothing else.
It was enough.
His strong arms held her close without hesitation. "Allan."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Her attendants were eager to bathe and transform her from fugitive to proper lady once again. Caroline was less excited, but she couldn't deny her desire to done with this business and on her way safely home.
The common room of the inn was bustling with rowdy Musketeers, her own guards, and a lively blend of locals. She spotted Athos and d'Artagnan and made her way toward them. Many Musketeers called out greetings and she took her time to speak to and thank them.
"Mademoiselle," said Athos, rising to stand, d'Artagnan a moment behind. Caroline waved them down and took a seat herself. "You look well."
"Happy to see everyone safe and sound," she answered. "But I could use an accurate account of what happened after we left the main party. According to my guards, it was absolutely nothing to remark upon. They don't want me to worry. And according to the Musketeers, it was the greatest battle ever fought by free men and gets more harrowing every time they tell it." Caroline smiled. "But you, Monsieur Athos, you will tell me the truth."
"Very well," said Athos with a near-smile. He seemed almost gratified at her statement. "The men we spotted did attack, an hour or so after you left. It was not a long altercation. They were not terribly skilled nor very passionate. Mercenaries is my guess. Most ran after it became clear they were outmatched. We took no losses or major injuries. Your men conducted themselves well." She nodded proudly.
"And Porthos?" Athos' eyes slid to d'Artagnan who shifted quietly.
"We met up with him the next day. The six men you encountered will not be troubling you any more, Excellency." Caroline stared at Athos thoughtfully. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much he was not telling her. Was it Porthos he was protecting? Or her?
His eyes were cool. Athos was honorable and true, she had no doubt of it. But that did not mean he would offer her every detail. And Caroline was not certain she wanted them.
She inclined her head slightly, acknowledging what he'd said. And what he hadn't.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
When the evening wore on and Caroline finally agreed to retire, she realized her bag was still in the room she had shared with Aramis. When she opened the door, the room was lit by several candles.
Porthos sat against the headboard of the bed, shirtless, chest wrapped in bandages.
"Oh, Monsieur Porthos," she flustered, shocked, "forgive me, I..." He held a finger to his lips and motioned her to enter with a wicked grin. She approached the bed warily and then smiled when she saw who lay on the other side of Porthos' long legs.
Aramis snored softly, his face pressed to Porthos' thigh. The lines and worry that had aged him the past few days had fallen away. He looked content and utterly at ease.
"How are you, Monsieur Porthos?" she whispered. "Are you badly wounded? Do you need anything?"
"Nah," he murmured. "A little cut, nothing too bad. Aramis saw to it."
"I am glad of it." She looked at the sleeping Musketeer. "And I'm glad he's finally sleeping." Caroline paused, uncertain how much she should share. Then Porthos smiled down at Aramis with such fondness, her hesitation evaporated. "He found it very hard to rest while you were gone."
"He's a worrier, our Aramis," nodded Porthos. He looked up at her. "Wanted to thank you."
"Me?!" her voice was loud in her surprise, but Aramis never stirred. "What," she continued quietly, "could you possibly have to thank me for?"
"I know how he seems. All charmin' talk and smooth manners. But when Aramis is worked up? Frettin'? He can be a bit destructive. Makes bad choices."
"I never felt like he was going to be violent." Porthos looked suddenly sad, but it was gone quickly.
"Not always that kind of destruction," he rumbled. "Don't matter. What matters is he didn't, and I don't know what you did, if you even knew you did anythin'. I'm still grateful."
"I could never begin to repay you and the Musketeers for seeing us safely here. I'm glad to have been of some use, even if I've no idea what it was." She thought back. "We talked a lot. There was little else to do."
"Aramis likes to talk. Athos doesn't. And I'm not good at it, not the way Aramis is." Porthos shrugged and then winced. "Might have been it."
"Are you certain you don't need anything, Monsieur Porthos? You look like you're in pain."
"Please, Mademoiselle. I'm fine. No need to worry."
"As you say. I will bid you goodnight, then." Caroline quietly picked up her pack and turned to leave. She looked back in time to see Porthos slide a hand through Aramis' hair. She shut the door behind her.
Such remarkable men.
This was never supposed to be this long.
Also, thinking about telling it from Porthos' point of view. Thoughts?