As always, thank you so much for your support!
Thirteen.
"Here you go."
D'Artagnan gave Annette a quick hug as he accepted he bag she had packed with bread, spreads, different kinds of cheese and fresh fruits and berries. He packed it into his saddlebag, giving some of his clothes to Porthos to make room for it. Annette also handed him a two bottles of wine, and two bottles of juice.
"Thank you for everything Annette. And as we said, if you ever come by Paris, or ever is in need of help, find us."
Annette smiled as she leaned forward and gave d'Artagnan a kiss on his cheek, the lad turning slightly red. The other men grinned happily behind him, before they all came up to say their goodbyes to the lady. Athos came up last, and he handed her a small moneybag, filled to the top.
"This is too much monsieur." Annette immediately said before even opening the bag, shaking her head, trying to hand it back.
"It's nowhere near enough." Athos smiled. "Please accept it and use it well."
Annette understood that she would not be able to deny the money, and she hugged the bag close to her heart as she watched the men wave as they made their way over to the stables. All their horses scuffled around and greeted their men happily upon their arrival. Porthos and Athos went straight over to pull the tack down from where it was handing, and d'Artagnan and Aramis put the bridles on their horses before sending a glance over to each other, before walking over to Porthos' and Athos' stalls, leaning over the low doors.
"So, yeah, we still have this problem." D'Artagnan smiled shyly, Aramis coming up behind him. They both turned their puppy-look-stares on Athos and Porthos, and the latter two immediately asked, in perfect union.
"What do you want?"
"Well young d'Artagnan's ribs are still sore, and my back is really not fond of stretching just yet. We have tried before, but we have not succeeded in actually placing the saddles onto our lovely ladies. So if you strong men could please assist us in this matter, that would be very polite of you."
Porthos grinned widely as he took down Aramis' saddle and placed it on Belle's back. He leaned under her to grab the girth, and then jumped high in alarm as a pair of teeth sunk their way into his arm.
"Belle!" Aramis immediately snapped at her, the mare turning to look at him with her ears forward, eyes innocent.
"What the-" Porthos frowned, his hand brushing up and down his arm where she had bitten him.
Aramis had his index finger raised and pointed towards Belle, and angry look on his face, as a father would tell off a misbehaving child. "You do not bite Porthos! He's merely trying to help, I'm not riding all the way home bareback, so you be nice, would you?"
The mare tossed her head and turned it to look away from the two men, as if Aramis had just wounded her pride.
"Mares." Porthos pouted as he once again took a hold of the girth, a bit more weary and careful at this time, and gently tied it. Aramis placed a hand on Porthos' arm.
"Sorry about that. Did she bite you all the way through?"
"Nah I doubt it made its way through the leather, it doesn't hurt."
"She's just a bit sensitive sometimes." Aramis defended his girl, patting her neck.
"She's a crazy mare." Porthos huffed, then jumped back as a hoof lashed out towards him, narrowly missing his knee. "Merde!"
Porthos took his hands away from Belle, raising them into the air in surrender. "You're on your own Aramis."
Porthos mumbled all the way over to Zad, patting the stallion over the neck before donning his own tack, attaching the saddlebags and weapons to the saddle. Aramis was still cuddling with Belle, the mare much happier to have her very own Aramis dealing with her. Porthos just rolled his eyes as he looked over to Athos and d'Artagnan who were both already outside and up on their horses, Athos had clearly helped d'Artagnan out with less of a trouble than Porthos had. Buttercup wasn't as much as a diva as Belle was.
Aramis suddenly looked up and realized everyone else had already mounted, and walked Belle outside, put his foot in the stirrup as his cheeks turned a bit red from embarrassment. It wasn't the first time they had all been waiting for him as he cuddled away with Belle. He grabbed a hold of the thick, black mane with his left hand, and a wince involuntarily crossed his face as he stretched his back. He bit his teeth as he pulled himself up, catching the other stirrup, and took deep breaths, closing his eyes as he tried to get the world to slow down in front of him.
A hand was suddenly placed on his thigh, and he blinked until he could make out whom those neatly tucked in gloves belonged to.
"I'm fine Athos."
"Anyone of us could have helped you up had you asked. Don't strain yourself. Please tell us if you need a rest."
Aramis nodded gratefully as he looked up to meet Athos' worried blue eyes. Flashing him a trademark smile, he collected Belle's reins. "Let's go home!"
The four men turned their horses towards the road, and happily waved to Annette who was standing outside the doors of the inn, waving back as she watched the Musketeers disappear. One day she would go to Paris, she promised herself. And she would meet those men again, of that she was certain.
They rode at a slow pace, their horses walking on long reins at their own speed. D'Artagnan and Porthos were in the front, Athos and Aramis in the back. Their moods were chipper as they all had something to talk about, pleased to be back on the road, pleased to not have Bastien in between them, and mostly of all, having them all together.
Porthos leaned out of the saddle to nudge d'Artagnan's arm.
"Hey, why didn't you tell us you could cook?"
"You never asked." D'Artagnan answered immediately, as he had answered Aramis last time he heard the question.
"You should've told us anyway."
"Like you have told those two that you can knit?"
Porthos immediately dropped his jaw, and Athos and Aramis spurred their horses to come closer. Had they heard that correct?
"Can you knit?" Aramis asked, his voice high in surprise.
Porthos glared angrily at d'Artagnan, who was grinning happily. "How did you know?"
"When we were at the Court, Flea said that you are a man of many talents. That you can one day fight a brawl and the next day you will knit a pair of socks."
Porthos was definitely embarrassed, as even his ears seemed to be changing colour. He had never intended for anyone to know of that little skill.
"Is it true?" Athos asked, grinning ridiculously.
"Mmm, yeah. Well Paris gets cold and it's cheaper making socks than buying them, and socks are hard to steal. A yarn of wool is easy catch." Porthos huffed, shrugging his shoulders. "Flea taught me how to do it."
Porthos was definitely expecting mockery from his fellows, but the reactions he got was pretty much the opposite.
"I can knit too. We had sheep at the farm and my mother showed me how to make yarn, and then turn it into socks, scarfs, gloves and hats." D'Artagnan smiled.
"One of you have to teach me, I really want to learn it." Aramis smiled, no sound of sarcasm in his, just pure interest.
"I'll be happy to show you, 'Mis." Porthos smiled, happy that none of them were picking on him. He was sure it would backfire at some point though, but now they seemed to be at ease with it. The only one who hadn't said anything was Athos and that didn't go unnoticed, and all three turned to him.
"Oh, I'm sure that's a great skill to know, but I rather pay for my socks. Knitting seems like it requires patience, and that I don't have."
"We know." All three answered in union before giggling at each other. Athos rolled his eyes at them.
"I'm sure Athos has some hidden talent we don't know about." D'Artagnan smiled, curious about this man, certain something laid hidden.
"No, I don't." Athos sighed. "I really can't cook, you all know that. I don't have the patience to work with thread nor yarn."
"I'm certain there's more to you my friend than meets the eye. Or are you just an expert drinker?" Aramis grinned, raising an eyebrow to his friend.
"That would be it." Athos nodded. That was so not it. But he would never say. If they found out… He shook his head. They would never find out.
D'Artagnan eyed Athos for a while, watching the other so stoic man wriggle in the saddle. He was definitely hiding something, and d'Artagnan decided that even if the man would not tell them, he would find out somehow. This could be a great ace up his sleeve, did he ever find out Athos' secret.
"Aramis, how about you? Except working extra on the side as a seamstress I mean? Do you have any hidden talents?" D'Artagnan asked.
Aramis seemed to think this over, wondering if there was something he had never told the others about, but Porthos had been right, he was probably bragging too much about what he could do.
"Aramis speaks lot of languages." Porthos helped. "Spanish, English, Italian, Greek, Latin. Like a dictionary, he is."
Aramis smiled. He had always liked languages, and he was good at them. He found it easy to pick up another language, and had always found it easy to learn a new one. At the moment he was trying to learn German, but it was hard when there were no Germans around the palace. It was always easier to learn when he could try his skills on someone who knew the language perfectly.
"I didn't know that." D'Artagnan said, definitely impressed, before he swapped his French into Italian. "I speak Italian too, my mother came from there. It's a bit rusty now, but my father never let me forget it."
Athos and Porthos both turned their heads as they hadn't understood a word the lad said, but Aramis just grinned happily, answering back in jingling Italian.
"That's great, now we can talk about the others without them having a clue of what we are talking about."
D'Artagnan giggled, as Porthos frowned. "You two are not allowed to talk to each other in a language I can't understand. That's just unfair."
Aramis smiled at his brightest as he met Porthos' eyes. "You know I'd never speak ill of you."
"Yeah, cause y'know I'd hunt you down." Porthos said, giving Aramis his biggest grin back. Aramis just remained smiling, the two of them staring it out.
"Athos, how about you? You speak other languages?" D'Artagnan asked.
"English, Latin, and a little bit of Spanish. Aramis has been trying to keep my Spanish up to date but it's very rusty. So is my English and Latin, I don't use the languages nearly enough to keep them going."
D'Artagnan nodded. "My dad would speak Italian to me when my mother died – she was from Italy – just so I wouldn't forget her native tongue. He thought it was important to know a second language. I never did learn Latin, working at a farm time just never seemed to be enough."
"Languages is a good thing to know, it's easier getting around in the world if you can speak to more people. And to be able to speak it properly you will have to speak it regularly, otherwise you will forget."
D'Artagnan nodded, he knew Athos was right, as he always was. He had promised his mother to keep the language up and he wasn't about to let her down. It was just so much easier speaking French. But learning that Aramis spoke it, at least he could practice with him.
"So…" D'Artagnan said, looking over at Athos who once again had an eyebrow raised in question. "So you're not going to tell me your skill?"
Athos gave him a short smile, just the tweak of the corner of his lip.
"No." Was the short answer that followed, before Athos settled behind d'Artagnan again, next to Belle.
"I understand that you won't tell d'Artagnan, he's new to the group, and I mean, do we really know him? But me, your trusted friend since many years back… Surely you can tell me?" Aramis smiled, bashing his eyelashes and using his best puppy eyes expression on Athos.
Athos gave Aramis a stare, and Aramis immediately sulked into the saddle. He knew what that stare meant. It was something in the style of "back off or I'll make you"-stare. And Aramis had learned a long time never to trust it.
"Hey, d'Artagnan, where did that bottle of wine go?" Athos asked. It was definitely time to start drinking.
"It's early morning, Athos." Porthos pointed out. The sun had just started rising a few hours ago.
"Well, it's evening somewhere." Athos grinned as he took the bottle from d'Artagnan, popping the lid he happily drank a mouthful, before yanking at Roger's reins to stop him as he spat out the drink onto the ground. All stopped to stare at him, except d'Artagnan who was giggling happily.
"What the…" Athos begun, staring down into the bottle.
"Pressed oranges. Healthy stuff, it's good for you." D'Artagnan grinned, still giggling like a schoolgirl.
Athos was not pleased as he handed the bottle back to d'Artagnan who switched it for the wine. Athos looked down into the bottle before tasting, not trusting this youngster for a second right now. He definitely needed some wine if he were to make this entire ride.
A few hours went past, and after a while they had all retired into riding in silence for a while, just enjoying the sound of the birds, hoof beats and nature rolling behind them. The sound of Belle whinnying softly though made all men turn their heads towards her and Aramis. Belle's sound had been much more quiet than her normal sounds, and Athos didn't like it. It was as if she was calling for help, and as he turned his head, his intuition proved right as the man next to him was visibly pale, swaying dangerously in the saddle, but his fingers entangled into Belle's mane in a firm grip. The mare had slowed down her gait, walking with small, easy steps, balancing his movements in the saddle as she tried to make sure that he stayed on her back.
Athos looked around, and was pleased to see an opening among the trees just the throw of a stone away from them.
"I do think this will be a good place to rest at."
Porthos had shifted Zad directly after Belle whinnied, so he was walking as close to Belle as possible, in case Aramis would become too unsteady, a hand on his thigh to let him know he was there. Now they wasted no time in getting up to the glade, dismounting their horses quickly. D'Artagnan took care of the four-legged, as Porthos carefully helped Aramis out of the saddle, half carrying him over to some of the trees, putting him down into the soft grass, sitting down next to him. Aramis leaned against Porthos, his head lulling to the side to rest against Porthos' broad shoulder as Porthos shifted to give Aramis a comfortable position.
Aramis didn't say anything, he knew there was no need for him to, and he was just too tired to speak. He couldn't control it, one minute he felt fine and the next one he was just falling asleep. But right after waking up this had happened every hour, he could barely leave the bed cause he just kept falling back asleep. Now at least he had been up half the day before his body told him to rest. He knew it would pass, it was just a side effect of having been sick, but it was such an annoying side effect.
He didn't have the energy to think about that now though. He was leaning on Porthos, and he closed his eyes and rested his head back, breathing heavily.
"Rest now 'Mis." Porthos mumbled, a big hand on top of Aramis' shoulder as Aramis happily obeyed and drifted off to sleep within an instant, knowing he was safe in this embrace.
So, anyone want to take a guess at what Athos' hidden skills are? The answer will of course come in an upcoming chapter!