Thanks for the reviews/faves/follows, i'm really happy that you're liking it! Here's the next and final chapter (there is a twist!) lots of emotions and some humour too -because it's who i am and i can never avoid that genre no matter the genre ;D
This chapter is in the perspective of both Athos and Porthos, though the majority is Porthos trying to comfort Athos. I hope i wrote it well enough for you to know who is talking/thinking...i'm probably just over thinking this haha...aaanyways Enjoy!
"Oi! Athos! Wake up!" a loud voice boomed overhead.
Athos bolted upright, eyes blowing wide -first in surprise from the sudden wake up call, then, in the fact that he was... sitting in bed... back in his room... completely unscathed.
Mouth now hanging open in awe, Athos sought out the face of his rude awakening friend, Porthos, who now stood by the foot of his bed -a look of concern splayed across his face.
"Er...you was twitchin' an' moanin' and sweatin' up a storm, 'Thos... Thought it'd be more decent ta wake ya-" Porthos informed, shuffling closer to the bed with a friendly smile, "-than let ya live out yer nightmares…"
Athos' brow furrowed at this latest revelation, his sapphire eyes critically taking in his surroundings and measuring them for a reality he thought he'd lost.
"Just a nightmare?..." Athos murmured, quietly, as he raised a shaky hand and ran it through his tousled hair.
But it had felt so real! It had been real…
Upon seeing the tattered state of his friend, Porthos slowly sank upon the end of the bed and clasped his brothers' shoulder in a firm grip, "You wanna talk 'bout it?"
Blue eyes met brown for a moment, their intense gazes sharing nothing but warmth in a lapse of vulnerability that was rarely, if ever, shown.
"No…" Athos whispered, averting his troubled eyes back to the sweat sodden sheets -a slight blush of embarrassment cropping up on his pale features.
"S'okay ta tell me, 'Thos. You've 'elped me through 'nough of mine…" Porthos encouraged, his hand never losing its supportive grip.
Athos shook his head slightly, "Won't do any good…" he murmured slowly, his eyes remaining downcast as he rubbed at his 'wounded' side absently; tenderly rubbing against the white, puckered line that adorned his abdomen.
Porthos' brow furrowed in conflicted recognition when his eyes caught the subtle movements of his troubled brother. This hadn't been a nightmare after all…it had been a memory…The scars told the story...
"Is tha' wha' it was 'bout?" Porthos probed, tentatively, gesturing towards Athos' side where a protective hand now cradled his midsection.
After a brief pause of silence, Athos gave way with a short, curt nod. Yes.
Porthos bit the inside of his lip thoughtfully, stewing on the best way to approach his brothers' dance with death all those years ago...Back to a time when they hadn't been there to save him from the blade, but had been there to save him from the reaper…
Porthos shivered as the blurry recollection of that fateful day swamped back into his mind…the limp, bloodied, pale form of his brother, lying face down in the mud, barely breathing and hardly lucid.
It had shaken him to the bones.
Never had he seen Athos so stripped of his regal authority, never had he seen him totally and completely defeated…to the point where he had almost given up on life.
Athos never gave in, never gave up on them or himself… And yet, with his strength depleted and his mind raked raw, he had almost…
Three bound, cracked ribs, fifteen stitches front and back and two weeks in bed was what it had taken just to replenish his friends' blood supply and fight off all the nasty fevers. It was a monumental achievement, one that wasn't commonly surpassed.
Aramis had surely performed his best medical feasts during those solemn weeks, all while D'artagnan stood dutifully by and helped in any way he could -regardless of the lack of sleep. As for himself, he had done his best to lighten the mood when times got rough...had tried to watch over everyone and keep the spirits high, for mentalities' sake.
By whatever grace of god, Athos had pulled through. He had survived to tell the tales…and live through the memories. They all had.
It was both a blessing and a curse -a curse with which he was willing to endure in these long nights and troublesome days; and it was an easy bargain as far as he was concerned, as it meant Athos was still alive.
But he knew how the scars -both in mind and body- still haunted Athos to this day, how they still plagued the man with thoughts of fragile mortality... and how he owed his brothers a life debt…though they would never consent.
But why now, of all times had this memory resurfaced? Why was Athos digging up the past again? The days were going by just fine lately...nothing to remind him of those darker days...
Whatever the reason, he wouldn't allow the experience to trouble Athos any further -at least not today.
"Ya don' need ta be thinkin bout tha' stuff while yer sleepin', 'Thos. It wasn' yer fault it happened, it was ours" Porthos supplied, guiltily.
When would he finally accept that?
Athos shook his head adamantly and opened his mouth as if to speak -but Porthos held up a patient hand. If his brother had lost his wits, then he would be the man to restore them, no matter how painful the story was…
"It was our fault 'cause we shoulda been there ta protect ya, 'Thos, an' we wasn't. I wish you'd jus' get tha' through yer thick skull already -so I can stop repeatin ma'self" Porthos jested fondly -though his brown eyes still sparkled with sadness.
Athos sighed heavily and shook his head, almost as if he couldn't agree with his brothers' logic, "It wasn't your fault, Porthos. It wasn't any of your faults. I made the stupid decision to pursue that man… I was the one who didn't watch my surroundings and I was the one whopaid the price for it, plain and simple. It was I who endangered all of your lives that day, and for that, I will never forgive myself…" he finished, bluntly -cold eyes now finding those of his friends.
Rolling his eyes in frustration, Porthos vigorously shook his head in denial, "See! There ya go again, 'me me me.' It's not all about you ya know!" he joked, trying desperately to steer the conversation to brighter shores.
They couldn't keep heading down this road, it wasn't healthy and it sure as hell wasn't right -by Athos' recollection of events at least.
A small quirk of Athos' lips was the only indication that the joke had been heard and received, otherwise, the man seemed particularly un-phased and stoic. As usual.
"Listen, Athos…" Porthos began seriously, "Wha'ever it is tha' keeps bringin ya back to that battle, I want ya to know tha' it was never yer fault. None of us think so and none of us ever will. No soldier can be on guard for attacks at all times, an' we're all bound ta get hurt at some point anyways… So stow the whelps' puppy dog act and liven' up a little, huh? You lived through it once already, time to leave it behind once an' for all, don' ya think?" Porthos prodded, a small encouraging grin sliding onto his features.
Athos raised his eyes back to his friend, this time blinking hard to avoid the shine his friend had stirred up, "You should have become a poet, brother…Aramis would be envious of your hidden talents" came the hoarse reply.
Porthos' grin widened and his brothers' small attempt at humour, it was a good sign. A sign that he was trying.
Leaning over, Porthos delivered a forceful but friendly clap on Athos' back, rising with a beaming smile that spoke of happier days. "Ha! Yer a real funny man, 'Thos. Me, a poet? Now tha's a good one!" he chuckled.
Athos smiled back good naturedly before giving himself a moment to digest the heavy emotions and finally swivel out of his sheets and come to a stand by his brother -a look of gracious approval blending into his once sorrowful expression.
At least if the grim thoughts wouldn't leave his mind at peace, Porthos would be there to talk his ears into oblivion. It was nice to have someone to rely on, especially if you couldn't rely on yourself, Athos mused dryly.
"So ya gonna get dressed or are ya jus' gonna practice making dewy eyes all day?" Porthos taunted, pointing at his brothers' half clad form.
Snapping himself out of the trance almost immediately, Athos made sure to roll his eyes at his brother before shuffling over to his discarded boots, his hand finally leaving the thin white scar on his stomach as he went.
Demons be damned, he couldn't let them haunt him forever. Besides, now was a time to be sensible and go down for breakfast Athos pondered hungrily.
Pulling on one worn boot first and then the other, Athos quickly straightened and turned back to his bedpost where he'd left his leather overcoat and hat. It was getting rather awkward shuffling around in this silence, and the fact that he'd sleepily revealed his true problems for once was becoming a suffocating embarrassment.
Brother or no, Porthos shouldn't have to pick up the pieces he'd dropped, nor address his weaknesses. It seemed like a childish ordeal, but leaders couldn't be seen with flaws, not even to those closest to them. He was to be strong for them, not the other way around.
Athos' little spiel of self berating would have continued if Porthos hadn't suddenly side stepped into his path and gripped him into a tight, warm embrace. The kind of embrace that would force Athos' mind to think about a completely new subject...or problem.
Although Porthos may look big, unkind and somewhat intimidating to others it had never meant that he didn't have a heart of gold…and no, not a stolen heart of gold.
It also didn't mean that the man was oblivious to other peoples' emotions -especially when it came to his brothers -of whom he could read like a book.
And so came the hug.
Rooted in shock, Athos merely accepted the unexpected embrace, standing rigidly on the spot for a moment as his mind worked up a storm of plausible excuses that may extract him from the uncomfortable situation.
A clap on the back or a friendly, two second embrace was completely fine with Athos...but a tight, suffocating embrace that felt more like a tree had wrapped its thick branches around your chest was unacceptable -to put it mildly.
And so, in a matter of seconds, Athos was beginning to squirm furiously as he worked on regaining the breath that had been stolen from his lungs -the many arguments he had prepared for his brother now drowned in silence.
One thing was sure, if his back didn't snap first, his lungs would burst and his eyes would fall out -both being two very crucial components of a musketeer that Athos felt were better kept in healthy proportions…and protected from villainous 'actions' such as these.
Or at least this was the flimsy excuse Athos had managed to conjure in the few feeble seconds that Porthos had used to lock onto him.
" 'rthos! C'nt….breathe!…"Athos choked, his palms now beginning to tap heavily at the larger mans shoulder blades while his feet dangled uselessly above the floor boards.
And yet, the embrace continued…for Porthos was stubborn as ever.
"P'rthos!" Athos squeaked out urgently -his once tender, tapping ministrations turning into an onslaught of unfriendly fists.
"L't…. me….go…dammit!" Athos heaved, his legs now kicking about in an impatient manner.
"A'right! A'right 'Thos! Mon diue! Keep yer wig on!.. I was jus' tryna brighten' up yer mood" Porthos grumbled mischievously as he dropped his grumpy brother back onto his boots and backed away defensively, hands in the air.
Athos shot his brother a most un-amused glare as he stretched out his stiff limbs and caught his breath, "Yes, well…next time, just bring a candle"
Porthos rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh, "No promises, 'Thos…no promises" he offered with a cheeky grin, sliding back towards his comrade so he could pluck up the hat on the bedpost.
Almost immediately, Athos snatched his hat from his brothers' grasp and clapped it protectively onto his head, then stepped back a few paces so he could cautiously loop the large, white shirt over his head before donning his leather jacket.
"You all ready now, princess?" Porthos teased after a boring moment of witnessing Athos flexing his fingers into his gloves.
To his amusement, the remark only gained a dim scowl from Athos -though it did get the man moving towards the door with his weapons belt in tow.
Following obediently, Porthos took a last glance of the quiet bed chambers of his comrade, his eyes casting on the unseen horrors within haunted the living space.
It was unfortunate that his dear friend should revisit them each night to suffer at the hands of their harmful inquiries… to hear those falsely offered promises of bliss among the dead or to see the lost, anguished faces from guilt ridden pasts…
But now, with this new brotherhood, Athos would not alone…he would not have to face these demons alone. And although it was true, his swords could never slay these demons nor protect his brother from their grueling tales…he would always be there to lead his brother back home. As would they all. They would always be there to counter these violent truths…always be there to distract and dissuade those vile thoughts…always usually in the accompaniment of breakfast or wine..
It was at this fond thought, that Porthos' stomach suddenly gurgled hungrily as if by way of complaint -reminding him that he had once been attending to said flavorsome breakfast only minutes ago…that was, until Aramis had dispatched him for Athos… under the threat of "no sausages."
And so he had rushed off to acquire the grumpy eldest…only to find him in that state of unaware disarray. It had been concerning, saddening even…but now that the matter had been dealt with, food could no longer be ignored.
What better a way than to fill the toils of the mind than with delicious sausages?
And so, with a small grin now lighting up his face, Porthos quickly turned from the room and closed the door to his brothers quarters, hurrying back down the stairs to see if he could beat Athos to breakfast.
He had to hand it to the 'man with the plan'... he could move quickly if he wanted to! The only problem there could possibly be now, was the very real threat of Athos reaching and eating the last of the canteens' sausages before he did.
That would be a devastating loss…one he could never forgive…
And so he poured on the speed, sliding under low beams and around sharp corners, his possessions clinking together on his belt in his haste for food.
No one would be taking his sausages, not if he could help it!
And there you have it! Was it what you expected? I didn't even see the twist coming myself if i'm honest! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought!
I'm off now to finish up my other stories, don't worry, i haven't forgot! ;)
Have a great day!