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Chapter Text

April 1627

This time it was enough! Treville could not tolerate this kind of behavior from his men again. Athos, Porthos and Aramis had failed in one of their missions for the last time. It was impossible to trust them when they were traveling together, so a solution had to be found, and it had to be found as soon as possible.

Athos, Porthos and Aramis had been ordered to escort the young Sophie de Beaurepaire to Marseille, where she was to be married. She was a young lady of the court. The King had therefore agreed to lend her some of his Musketeers to ensure her protection. The journey was not a particularly difficult one, but the persistence of hard times was driving an increasing number of wandering souls to turn to robbery and thievery.

Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire was terrified at the thought of leaving her family, who had always lived in the north-east of France. She would be alone in a part of the country she knew nothing about. The requirement to travel light meant that she could only take a maid and had to leave most of her belongings behind. She had been a real ray of sunshine at the King's court since her arrival, but now all she radiated was infinite sorrow.

Six o'clock struck at Notre Dame. Athos, Porthos and Aramis were in the saddle, waiting around the carriage. Athos fought desperately to keep his eyes open. He cursed himself for drinking so much yesterday, knowing full well that today would be a long day of riding, the first of many. He could feel Porthos' impatience beside him. The man was not known for his calm and restraint. Porthos hated waiting and especially doing nothing. After all, their appointment had been at five o'clock.

Only Aramis seemed unaffected by the situation. He was not impatient and he was not fighting sleep. He stood up straight on his horse and when he met Athos's eyes, he gave him his best smile. This irritated Athos to no end. He knew perfectly well that Aramis had not slept at home and had spent a night of passion with one of his mistresses. So how on earth could he be in such good spirits at this hour?

Athos let out an exasperated sigh, ready to dismount and fetch the girl himself if she did not appear in the next few minutes. His annoyance must have shown on his face, because he heard Aramis chuckling. Aramis seemed to be enjoying himself and taking things too lightly for Athos' liking. The sniper was often completely careless. Even though it had only been six months since their group had been formed by Treville, Athos thought he had managed to understand well enough the personalities of his two companions.

Porthos, to his right, moved his horse forward to reach his level. He leaned towards him.

"Athos, we can't waste a whole day here." Porthos muttered.

"I know." Athos replied, not taking his eyes off the door.

Suddenly, the door opened and two figures stepped out. Wrapped in a silk cloak, Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire hurried down the steps and into the carriage without a word to the Musketeers. The small, awkward figure of her maid followed closely behind her, but she stopped to greet the three friends respectfully. The door of the carriage was closed by a footman and the coachman snapped the reins. The party set off.

The April sun was slowly rising over the horizon. The streets of Paris were not yet very busy, although the first of the workers were already at work. The market stalls were beginning to fill up and the bakers were taking the first breads of the day out of the ovens. Athos couldn't help but smell the fresh baguettes as they passed near a bakery. His friend's delighted expression warmed Porthos' heart, so he bent down to pick up one of the loaves resting on a windowsill and tossed the baker a coin. He could feel the warmth of the bread even through his gloves. He shrugged at the questioning looks of his two companions.

"I think we could all benefit from a proper breakfast this morning."

With that, he flung a piece to Aramis and one to Athos. The former thanked him by miming the sending of a kiss, while the latter contented himself with a grateful nod.

They had a journey of almost two weeks ahead of them. It wasn't the first time they'd been away for that long, but it was the first time they'd had to escort a member of the nobility. They were usually used to carry messages or collect certain items. Treville had insisted on the importance of this mission and what it meant for them and their statue of the Musketeers. They had to show the King that they were trustworthy and could carry out any task in the service of France.

Athos was taking all this very seriously. Over the past few months, he had become the designated leader of their small group and felt responsible to prove himself, but also to give his teammates the opportunity to do the same.

So it was with a serious look on his face that Athos left Paris behind. The caravan left the well-marked paths of the city to make its way along the dirt roads of the forest. Athos had taken the front of the caravan, leaving the rear to Aramis and Porthos. Still, he could hear Aramis whistling a tune he had heard in a tavern the day before. The air wasn't particularly chilly, so the journey presented itself to be uneventful.

The party stopped for lunch and let the horses rest. Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire refused to go out to stretch her legs and remained confined in the carriage. So the little maid had to go back and forth between her mistress and the meal being prepared over the fire. Porthos was in charge. He was the best of them at cooking. He joked that this was because he had a more developed gourmet palate and appreciated quality food. Athos had once offered to take his place. When the pieces of lamb they had brought with them were reduced to a few embers, Porthos had forbidden him to go near a casserole again.

The maid approached Porthos tentatively, coming to fill her mistress's plate.

"Don't worry about him. He is all big and frightening, but his heart is pure gold," said Aramis, who had slipped up behind the girl. In the face of Aramis' charming smile, she stammered out some unintelligible words.

"Aramis, stop messing with the poor thing." Porthos intervened, "What's your name?"

"Claudette." she replied in a barely audible voice.

"What can I do for you Claudette?" Porthos smiled. One of his smiles that lit up the moment like a ray of sunshine. Athos watched the scene from where he sat. He wondered how a man capable of breaking another man in two could radiate so much kindness and gentleness.

"Something to eat for Mademoiselle." Claudette replied, holding out the small plate. Porthos gladly took it and served a generous portion of the stew he had prepared. He watched as the silhouette of the young woman disappeared back into the carriage.

"Am I really that scary?"

The question took Athos by surprise and he stood motionless, unsure if the question was directed at him. Aramis sat down beside Porthos and put an arm around his shoulders.

"I meant what I said. You're all big and scary, but you're the sweetest person I know." Porthos sighed, but didn't push the other man away, letting himself go against him.

Athos looked at them and envied the ease with which Aramis could express himself and show his affection with a touch. Athos was far too unskilled for that. He could feel Porthos's piercing gaze on him. He was obviously waiting for his answer.

"Don't let it bother you." Athos said as he stood up. "I'm going to the horses." It was his way of running away from the conversation.

They set off again, stopping only an hour after sunset. They had reached the town of Auxerre and would be able to spend the night in an inn. So it was agreed between the three companions that they would stop at the first establishment they found suitable. They finally stopped at a place called "Le Poney Dansant". The little place didn't look like much, but it seemed to be in good shape and, most importantly, it wasn't crowded with drunks. There were only about five tables on the ground floor. The innkeeper had only four rooms. So they took one for Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire and her companion, and another for themselves. The coachman had insisted on staying with his carriage.

Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire left her hiding place to go to her bedroom for the night. She had remained wrapped in her cloak, hiding from the outside world. But Aramis noticed the young woman's puffy red eyes. Despite all her precautions, nothing could prevent Aramis from seeing and feeling her pain. It was in his nature to care for those around him. It motivated him to lend a helping hand to any soul in need. So he took a step towards her, only to be interrupted by Athos, who grabbed his arm. His accusing look hurt Aramis, but he resolved not to answer. Sophie de Beaurepaire disappeared upstairs.

The three soldiers gathered around a table to eat and drink.

"Our little friend seems to be quite miserable," Aramis blurted out. Surprised to hear him bring up the subject, Athos raised an eyebrow.

"No Aramis, please, let the child be." His voice sounded like a warning.

"I wasn't going to do anything! " Aramis tried to defend himself this time. "I just saw that she was very unhappy and wondered if there was anything we could do to cheer her up."

"That's not our job."

Porthos remained silent during this exchange, he was used to it. Athos was always objecting to what Aramis was saying, while Aramis was always insisting on his point. Porthos couldn't help but see beneath it all the affection the two men had for each other. Athos was worried about Aramis and Aramis was seeking Athos' approval. He smiled and stood up.

"I think I'll go to bed. Long day tomorrow."

"I'll come with you," Aramis replied. Porthos then turned his gaze to Athos, who had lost himself in his drink.

"Athos?"

"I'll stay for a bit. I'll join you later." Aramis and Porthos exchanged a worried look. They had been aware of Athos' destructive habits with alcohol for some time now. But neither of them knew the source. They were content to take turns looking after him when he needed it. When neither of them moved, Athos felt compelled to add:

"I'll be fine. Besides, my bed is not far away tonight." Porthos shrugged and turned on his heels. He heard Aramis following him.

The room was narrow. There were three beds side by side, with barely enough room to move between them. But they had seen far worse. Porthos made his way to the bed furthest from the door, the one just below the window. He got rid of his equipment, laid his jacket aside and took off his trousers. When he didn't hear Aramis doing the same, he turned to see what his friend was up to. Aramis had remained in the doorway, his eyes fixed on him. His cheeks were flushed. It wasn't the first time he'd undressed in front of him, and Aramis was far from innocent to the point of blushing like a nun. Porthos was about to point this out when something stopped him, a change in the atmosphere. The two men were now openly staring at each other, Porthos wearing only his underpants. He took a step forward when suddenly the front door swung open and collided with Aramis' skull. Aramis let out a cry of pain and found himself face to face with Athos.

"What the hell are you doing behind the door?" Athos asked. As if for an answer, Aramis grumbled and collapsed on the bed in the middle. Athos looked at Porthos who only returned a little shrug. They went to sleep without exchanging further words.

The next day they set off again. Once again, Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire had not stopped to greet them and had retired to her carriage. Athos didn't mind, but Aramis found it very annoying. He pointed out that two weeks of traveling in such silence would drive him mad.

"What silence?" Porthos inquired, "You haven't stopped talking since we left the inn." This drew a smile from Athos, who appreciated the comfortable familiarity that existed between his two brothers-in-arms. Like a very mature man, Aramis stuck out his tongue and heeled his horse to take the head of the cortege. The rest of the day passed without incident, and they kept up a reasonable pace. They reached Saulieu in the evening and once again enjoyed the comforts of an inn. Knowing that they would not be able to enjoy such luxuries for the next few days, they ate and drank to their hearts' content.

By the third day of the journey, Aramis could bear it no longer. Silence might have been comfortable for his companions, but he could feel the desperation of the young woman, who had not uttered a word since they left Paris, growing stronger by the day. So Aramis brought his horse to the small window of the carriage and, removing his hat, greeted the occupants.

"It seems we are blessed with delicious weather for this journey." He began in the tone of mundane conversation. All he got for an answer was a stubborn silence. But he was not a man to give up so easily.

"I hope it stays that way until tonight, as it seems we'll be forced to sleep on the road." This time Aramis heard a small noise of alarm. He couldn't tell if it was the maid or her mistress.

"But have no fear, you have three brave musketeers to protect you! Well, more like two and a half. They hired me mainly for my pretty looks." An amused snort reached Aramis' ears. He was on the right track. "I suppose it's to compensate for Athos' grumpy face." The laughter was more open. A small hand pulled aside the window curtain and the face of Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire appeared. A shy smile adorned her sad face.

"You are very persistent, Musketeer," she said in her small, insecure voice.

"That's probably why my friends call me a nuisance." Once again the young girl laughed. Aramis enjoyed the sound, so sweet to his ears. He had been so distressed to see the young woman's pain that her laughter warmed his heart.

"Now that you have my attention, what do you want, Monsieur?" asked Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"I want nothing more than your conversation, Mademoiselle. For my companions are no fun at all." So Aramis and Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire began a long conversation about Aramis's military exploits or even verses from the Bible.

Porthos watched the scene with amusement. He heeled his horse to reach Athos's level.

"He seems to have succeeded." Porthos observed with an amused smile.

"He always gets his way," Athos replied in a voice that was half annoyed and half amused.

The day passed quietly. Aramis continued to chat peacefully with his new friend. Porthos and Athos remained silent at the head of the escort. As the Musketeers had suspected, they wouldn't reach a town before nightfall. They would have to sleep in the open tonight. When Athos finally called a halt, Porthos made his way to Aramis' side.

"Come on, help us set up camp and leave this poor mademoiselle in peace."

"Oh no, monsieur, Aramis is great company. He doesn't bother me at all." Young Sophie seemed genuinely pleased by the Musketeer's company. She had regained her youthful grace, so typical of eighteen years old.

Porthos dismounted with a shrug of the shoulders. He worked with Athos to set up camp and start preparing food. Porthos was not jealous by nature. But he couldn't help but notice Aramis still chatting with Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire. He couldn't stop the envy growing in his chest day by day. He silently cursed the fact that Aramis did not flirt with him as freely. The memory of the strange moment they had shared on their first evening came back to him. But a burst of laughter from Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire brought him back to reality. He grumbled and turned his attention back to the fish he was cooking.

When they all gathered around the fire, they were surprised to see Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire get out of her carriage and come to sit with them. Aramis motioned for her to sit beside him. Athos and Porthos remained stunned. Aramis served her food enthusiastically. The other two had still not moved since the young woman had appeared.

"I want to apologize for my behavior in the first few days. I was very upset and sad about the trip and I blamed you wrongly." No one dared speak. "I want to make amends and I promise to make the rest of this journey more pleasant for all of us. "Aramis opened his mouth to reply, but Athos beat him to it.

"Mademoiselle, you don't owe us anything. We are at your disposal." His voice was solemn and sincere. Aramis turned his eyes to his leader. He had so much admiration for Athos' honesty and loyalty. His first impression of Athos had not been particularly good. Athos had seemed cold, distant and far too prompt to follow the rules. But Aramis had discovered that this coldness was only there to protect him. He imposed a rigid distance on himself for fear of hurting or being hurt. But when Athos gave his friendship, he was prepared to do anything to protect those close to him. How often had Athos borne Treville's reproaches simply because he had refused to denounce Aramis?

Athos must have felt the lingering gaze on him, for he turned his head to meet Aramis's eyes. Then the corner of his mouth lifted in a discreet but unmistakable smile to one who knew how to observe. Aramis felt his cheeks flush.

"Athos is right." Porthos picked up. "Please don't torment yourself. We are at your service. Eat, drink, enjoy this voyage as you wish. God only knows what awaits you in Marseilles." With a sympathetic smile, Porthos handed her a plate. The meal was spent recounting the exploits of the Musketeers. Aramis and Porthos recounted with enthusiasm, sometimes standing up to illustrate certain scenes. Athos intervened a few times to correct details or confirm facts. Claudette and Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire were amused by these stories. When it was time to go to bed, the young woman seemed to have a lighter heart. She retired to her carriage with Claudette.

Athos, Porthos and Aramis spread out their bunks and Athos volunteered to take the first watch. Neither of the other two objected. They went to bed without further ado. Athos watched them settle into their beds and felt his chest swell with affection. He tried to push the feeling away, but he could not. He was overcome with melancholy, knowing that his companions could not return his affection. He turned away and looked at the horizon.

And so the days went by quietly. The first week of the journey was coming to an end. The weather had remained good and they had encountered no difficulties. They were making good progress, which led Athos to believe that they would reach Marseilles before the end of the second week. They would arrive in Valence soon, either that evening or the following day. The small group was on a road that ran along the edge of a forest. The air was fresh and soft. They were alone on the road and all that could be heard was the animated conversation between Aramis and Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire. Aramis was entertained by the young girl's company. It also allowed him to think about something other than his two friends. The image of Porthos undressing in the tavern room they had shared lingered in his mind.

"You must have many conquests in Paris," laughed Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire.

This immediately snapped Aramis out of his reverie. He heard Porthos snort of amusement in front of him. Aramis gave him a dark look, which the other Musketeer obviously couldn't see as he had his back to him.

"Really, my love affairs aren't that interesting." He mumbles.

"On the contrary, I find them extremely fascinating and exciting. I used to gossip with my friends about various love affairs and I miss it very much." Seeing that Aramis was still hesitating to answer, Sophie leaned her head out of the carriage window and called to Porthos. "And you, Monsieur Porthos? Do you have a lady you'd like to go home to?" Porthos let out a surprised cough.

"No, not really, Mademoiselle." He replied quickly. "And before you do, please don't ask Athos."

So Sophie sat back down, pouting, unhappy with the answers she'd been given. Aramis sighed. He had taken a liking to the young child in the manner of an older brother, and so he gave in to her whim.

"You must understand that I can't reveal any names..." and so he went on to recount some of his adventures with several different paramours.

Ahead, Porthos listened distractedly to Aramis' tale. He knew these stories. He knew which were true and which were pure inventions. He knew when Aramis changed details to his advantage. Aramis was so quick to give away his heart. And when he did, he did so without reserve, with his whole self. Many condemned Aramis' behavior, but Porthos saw only his willingness to love and be loved. Porthos was only saddened to see him throw himself into one-night stands that never gave him the affection and support he needed.

Halfway through the day, Athos called a halt to let the horses rest. Aramis was more than happy to stretch his legs. He warned that he was going to pee and walked a little further into the forest. As he cut through the trees, he noticed that they became less dense until he came to a waterhole. A stream of clear water cut through the surrounding flora. Aramis ran towards it, delighted, and dipped his hand in to splash his face. After a week on horseback, he desperately needed a bath. The water was cool, but still bearable. So, without hesitation, he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the river. He moved slowly, giving himself time to adjust to the new temperature. When he was waist deep, he submerged the rest of his body.

A few yards away, the rest of the group had sat down and rested. Athos lay on the ground, leaning against a tree, while Porthos walked in circles, unable to stand still. Athos watched him with an amusement he hid beneath his impassive face. Porthos was a man of action, eager to make himself useful. He had grown up in an environment that required him to be constantly on the move and on guard. Therefore, it was difficult for him to rest. Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire must have had enough of this back and forth and suggested that Porthos play a game of cards to keep him occupied. Athos wanted to warn the young woman about Porthos's tendency to cheat at games, but he changed his mind. He told himself that his brother-in-arms knew how to behave with a lady and that he would curb his trickster impulses.

So Porthos sat down opposite Sophie and the young woman dealt the cards. Athos gave the scene a distracted eye. He grinned as he heard the little girl's small squeal of victory. Porthos had undoubtedly let her win. After a while, Porthos turned to Athos:

"Aramis has been gone for a while, hasn't he?"

Athos raised an eyebrow. It was true that the last Musketeer had left at least half an hour ago. Athos sighed heavily and got to his feet.

"I'll go find him."

Porthos nodded and returned his attention to his card game. Athos walked towards the spot where he had seen Aramis disappear some time earlier. He hadn't walked far before he heard the sound of water. Athos followed the noises and began to see a river. He walked slowly along it before he saw a figure emerge from the surface. There was Aramis, in the middle of the river, waist deep in water. His torso was still soaking wet and his hair was dripping down his shoulders. His black eyes sparkled with life. He dipped his head under the water.

When he arrived in front of this picture, Athos had frozen, as if nailed to the spot. Aramis' white skin seemed to glow in the sunlight. His body was in perfect harmony with its surroundings. He looked like a nymph, gracefully parting the surface of the water. Athos was breathless. Aramis finally turned towards the shore. He moved slowly forward to get out of the water. Athos watched as he slowly detached himself from the river, slowly revealing his hips, his crotch, his thighs... Absorbed by the sight, it took him some time to realize that Aramis was moving towards him.

Aramis had seen a figure silhouetted on the riverbank, not far from the clothes he had left by the stream. Athos was staring at him openly. Aramis had never been embarrassed by his nakedness, but Athos' eyes made him self-conscious. Still, he refused to let it show. He walked proudly towards Athos, his gaze meeting his own. When he reached his clothes, he turned his back on Athos and bent down to pick up his belongings from the floor, his ass on display. He heard Athos make a strangled sound. He rose slowly and turned around. Athos' face was red and his eyes didn't know where to look. Aramis smiled.

"Did you need something?" he asked.

"N... no." Athos stuttered, "We were just wondering what was taking you so long."

"Well, having a nice bath. You might benefit from it too."

Aramis was surprised to see that Athos's face could turn even redder.

"Just hurry up and get dressed. We need to leave as soon as possible." Then Athos disappeared into the trees. Aramis watched him go, a grin on his face. It was the first time he had seen Athos' cold facade crack. He decided to keep this information in the back of his mind, as it might be useful later. So he quickly got dressed and joined his traveling party.

Athos had already mounted his horse and when he saw Aramis coming, he pulled on the reins to take the lead. Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire expressed her concern to Aramis that she had not seen him return earlier and jumped into her carriage. Aramis thanked her with a smile, but never took his eyes off Athos' back. He mounted his horse and the party set off again.

The silence that had fallen was not particularly heavy, but Porthos found it strange. Athos had taken the lead, much further forward than usual. Aramis was behind. Porthos looked at his companions in turn. He knew something had changed, but he couldn't work out what. There was no point in questioning Athos. The man was quiet as the grave when it came to his feelings. So Porthos slowed his horse until he reached Aramis.

" What the hell happened between you and Athos?"

" Hm" Aramis replied, absentmindedly. "Nothing in particular."

" Don't play this game with me, 'Mis. I know something is off between you two."

"Well, my dear Porthos, I assure you I don't know what you're talking about. I am simply tired of this journey and Athos is fed up with my behavior. So nothing out of the ordinary."

The usual enthusiasm and lightness of Aramis's tone was gone. This increased Porthos' concern, but he did not press the matter further. He shrugged and went back to the front of the carriage.

Although Aramis didn't want to admit it, the incident earlier, which had amused him at first, was beginning to worry him. Athos had become even colder and more distant than usual, and Aramis feared that it would destroy the friendship they had managed to build despite their very different personalities. He feared he had gone too far. Perhaps Athos would despise him after such a scene and ask to not work with him again when they returned to Paris. The whirlwind of thoughts that gripped him squeezed his heart and throat. He could feel his eyes burning as his thoughts led him to an inner hatred of himself. His breathing became ragged. His vision slowly faded.

A hand appeared in front of him and came to rest on his, which was firmly clutching the reins of his horse.

"You seem troubled, my friend..." said Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire in a soft voice.

"It's nothing, Mademoiselle. Really. Just old fears." His voice was nearly a whisper.

"Please, if you need anything, do not hesitate to speak to me."

"You have a kind soul," Aramis smiled sadly.

Porthos watched the scene without interfering. If the situation continued, he would have to act.

Athos had remained mutinous throughout the evening and the following day. Aramis was brooding, casting worried glances at Athos at regular intervals. Porthos felt himself beginning to lose patience. Even Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire was beginning to sense the tension between the two men and shot worried looks at Porthos whenever she could. They would arrive in Avignon this evening and Porthos was determined to put an end to this.

When they arrived in the city it was still early in the evening and Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire insisted on taking a tour and seeing the area. She begged Aramis to accompany her, and so he and Claudette, who would have rather rested, set off. Porthos knew this was the perfect moment to act. He pulled Athos by the sleeve and led him towards the inn where they would be staying for the night.

The tavern was large. The main room was crowded with drunkards who had come to drown their sorrows of the day and weary travelers. Athos booked two rooms for the night with the innkeeper, then followed Porthos into a corner of the main room. At Porthos' displeased expression, Athos didn't dare protest. He knew that his behavior over the past few days had put the Musketeer to the test. The truth was that Athos had been shocked by his own behavior. The image of Aramis in the river lingered in his mind. He no longer knew how to behave in front of his brother. He cursed the impure thoughts that had come to his mind. He blamed himself for not being more careful and for letting his two companions into his heart so easily.

Sitting behind a table, Porthos had his eyes fixed on him. His gaze was so penetrating that it made Athos shiver. He sat down opposite his grumpy looking friend and asked for a drink to be brought to them. He refused to show Porthos that he was worried and hesitant, so he decided to start the conversation himself.

"What?"

Porthos arched an eyebrow as if to say "Really?". But Athos pretended not to understand. Porthos replied with a sigh.

"What's going on between you and Aramis? And how can we stop whatever it is?" he gestured vaguely to indicate that he was referring to the situation.

A waitress came and placed two glasses of wine on the table. Athos grabbed his and, under Porthos's disapproving gaze, emptied it in one gulp. Then he opened his mouth to deny the situation, but Porthos cut him off.

"And please don't take me for a fool by pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. "It was Athos's turn to sigh.

"It's just..." He didn't even know what he was going to say. "...old wounds."

Porthos's gaze became even more questioning. It was not in his nature to push people to open up more. He just wanted to help his two friends who seemed so hurt by the current situation. So he left it to Athos to elaborate or not, if he wished. After a long silence, convinced that he couldn't get any more out of him, Porthos said again:

" Just fix it with Ara.."

"I'm worried about how much I've come to care for you two in such a short time," Athos cut in. This revelation took Porthos by surprise. Athos was not a man of emotions, and he spoke even less of them. Unprepared for this kind of conversation, he didn't know what to say. This clearly panicked Athos, who grabbed the second glass intended for Porthos and drank it too. Fearing that his friend would run away, Porthos grabbed Athos's wrist. Athos let out an unconvinced laugh. "You don't know me." and before Porthos could protest he added, "I'll sort things out with Aramis, don't worry about it." Porthos' grip loosened but he did not withdraw his hand. His thumb came to rest against Athos's palm and began to caress the skin in small circles. Athos's cheeks flushed red, barely visible in the tavern's candlelight. Neither of them dared speak, breaking the strange atmosphere that had just been formed.

Aramis had returned from his outing with Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire. The girl had gone up to her room. As for himself, he was apprehensive about rejoining his companions. He would have to face Athos and suffer Porthos' reproaches. He spotted them in the large room, Athos with his back to him and Porthos against the wall. They did not seem to be in the middle of a discussion, and as Aramis approached, he saw Porthos's hand caressing Athos's. This vision deeply disturbed him. At first he thought it was jealousy, but when he saw the tender look Porthos gave his brother, he realized that he wanted to join the scene, to be part of it.

Feigning his usual excitement, he took the chair next to Athos and began to tell of his walk through the city. He didn't want to give them time to talk. He was afraid. Afraid of being rejected, afraid that his friends would ask him to leave. As long as he had something to say, he spoke without interruption. He could feel their surprised and questioning eyes on him. At one point, Porthos tried to interrupt him, but he wouldn't let him and went on about local specialties and other trivial matters. When he ran out of things to say, he quickly withdrew. He went up to their room and got into bed with his back to the door.

Athos and Porthos joined him some time later. They shared a look of concern at what had happened with Aramis. The Musketeer had clearly not felt like talking, which was confirmed by the fact that he was curled up in bed with his back to them. They went to bed without another word.

At first light they were in the saddle. They would be in Marseilles in two days. They resumed their journey, their eyes still heavy with sleep. Athos had decided to let a few hours pass before confronting Aramis. If only to give them time to shake off their fatigue.

Once they had left the paths of the city, Athos had the unpleasant feeling that they were being watched. He let fifteen minutes pass and then, his mind not quite at ease, he ordered Porthos to scout ahead and Aramis to be on guard. The two Musketeers nodded and took up their positions. Athos and Aramis flanked the carriage, pistols in hand. Several minutes passed without the slightest sign.

Suddenly Porthos reappeared, horse at full speed, shouting:

"Ambush!

Athos barely had time to understand what Porthos had just said before fifteen men emerged from the nearby woods and rushed towards them. They were armed with swords, dressed in black and wearing masks. Athos shot one of the attackers in the chest and the first body fell to the ground. He heard another detonation, followed by a muffled scream. Aramis had done the same at his side. But the first deaths did not seem to discourage the newcomers, who took aim at the carriage. With no time to reload, Athos drew his sword and slashed at both sides of his horse, trying to kill as many men as possible. Porthos had joined them to join the fight. Unfortunately, they were quickly outnumbered.

There was a loud scream. The robbers had reached the carriage and opened the door. The coachman was on the floor, dead. Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire was curled up against the side of the carriage and Claudette stood in front of her mistress, blocking the way with her body. Aramis gave a sharp tug on his horse's reins, trying to get through the human swamp blocking his way. Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled violently from his horse and fell to the ground.

"Aramis!" Athos shouted as he saw the man being swallowed.

Aramis was on the ground, curled up to protect himself as best he could from the blows the men around him were throwing at him. As soon as he tried to get up, he received a violent kick to the stomach. Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire's cries became more urgent. From a distance he could hear Athos shouting his name. A blow struck his face, breaking his nose. The assailants' attacks on his body stopped abruptly. Aramis lifted his head and tried to see through the blood dripping down his face. Two men lay dead beside him. Athos had split the circle and was keeping the bandits at bay.

"Can you stand?" Athos said urgently.

Aramis nodded and complied. The whole world capsized before his eyes. He held on and managed to stand on his two feet.

Behind him, Porthos had joined Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire and was fighting off the three men in front of him. He killed one of them with a sword blow to the chest. But the carriage was surrounded by the remaining seven men. Claudette held the second door of the carriage shut with all her strength.

A pistol shot surprised Athos, who was hit in the shoulder. None of their attackers had seemed to be carrying a gun.

"ATHOS!" shouted Aramis and Porthos at the same time. Without thinking, Porthos lunged at him, killing the two men blocking his path. Athos fell to his knees and let out a cry of pain. Aramis gathered his strength and attacked the shooter. Porthos leapt in front of Athos and shot down more enemies. A scream made Aramis turn to see Mademoiselle Beaurepaire in the hands of two masked men, Claudette on the ground, dead. Mademoiselle fought as hard as she could, her face drowning in tears. Leaving Porthos to deal with the three men in front of him, Aramis rushed towards the young woman and killed the two men in an instant. He caught the young woman in his arms and she collapsed.

On his side, Porthos had cleared away the last of the men. He had rushed up to Athos and was trying as best he could to stop the blood flowing from his shoulder. Athos was pale as death and threatened to faint at any moment.

"Athos? Athos, please talk to me!" Porthos said in a voice full of fear. Athos slowly raised his hand and brought it to rest on Porthos' cheek, smiling at him. His eyes were already lost in the void and he lost consciousness.

"Aramis!" Porthos cried.

Aramis tried to hold Sophie against him as she desperately tried to reach Claudette's body.

"You were supposed to protect us!" Sophie screamed. "Liars! You useless pricks! This is all your fault!"