Chapter Text
D'Artagnan was laying on his bed, his arm over his eyes when Athos tapped lightly on the door frame.
“Athos!” he exclaimed, getting to his feet immediately.
He hesitated for a moment before Athos stepped forwards and embraced him, burying his head into d'Artagnan's neck.
“I'm so sorry,” d'Artagnan mumbled.
“I know,” Athos whispered. “As am I.”
It was a long time they stood together before Athos gently broke them apart. They each took a seat on the bed, facing each other.
“I'm so sorry I pushed you,” d'Artagnan blurted. “I knew... I knew you weren't OK. I knew you weren't past... past my being dishonest.”
“Thank you,” Athos said quietly. “I had plenty of opportunities to say the same and didn't do so. For that, I also apologise.”
“Constance is worried that it was her,” d'Artagnan said, slowly. “That you aren't ready to be with another woman.”
“I passed her on my way in. I'll speak to her shortly but that isn't it,” Athos said, shaking his head. “My head has just been too filled with my wife since seeing her in that courtroom. Constance touched my locket.”
D'Artagnan made a small noise of understanding. He'd seen the thin chain around Athos' neck and always guessed it was an old family heirloom. Now he understood. It related to Anne, not the de la Feres.
There was a short silence before d'Artagnan had to say the thing that had been on his mind since that afternoon.
“I've never seen you that bad,” he whispered.
“I'm not sure I've ever been that lost for years,” Athos murmured. “All I could see was her and the people she'd killed. Killed because, I thought, of my actions.”
“You thought?” d'Artagnan prompted.
“I know now I can't claim responsibility for everything she does or did,” Athos said.
D'Artagnan nodded thoughtfully.
“Because they... helped?”
“Aramis and Porthos? Yes,” Athos answered, his voice calm and quiet. “You'll note I have not stayed with them.”
D'Artagnan bit his lip, wanting more than anything to ask what happened, jealousy building in his chest. He didn't feel he had the right, though. It was his infidelity that had caused this problem.
“He bound me tightly, back to back with Porthos, and left me alone to work out my problems,” Athos answered the unspoken question.
“That's... that's all?” d'Artagnan asked, surprised.
“It's all I needed,” Athos said, shrugging. “I submitted fully to his control and their love and everything else just... didn't matter.”
D'Artagnan felt as though he'd been hit in the stomach. He didn't matter when Athos was with them.
“Hey,” Athos said, chidingly, his voice still soft. “I meant the bad things. I came here as soon as I was alert again. You're where my heart lies, d'Artagnan. You.”
D'Artagnan nodded but his heart wasn't in it.
“Emotional hangover,” Athos said, quietly, studying his face.
D'Artagnan looked up, chuckling. It was a term Athos had used before when one had the headache and tiredness of too much wine without the alcohol.
“I think so. I was so... enamoured with the idea of you, me and Constance that I think I was ahead of you both and impatient,” he admitted. “I think that's why I let you go ahead when I think I knew you weren't quite there yet.”
Athos nodded again, his normal instinct to apologise for any shortcomings strangely absent. He still felt strangely hollow, as though he were filled with feathers.
“Can I ask for more detail, to put my own mind at rest?” d'Artagnan asked quickly, regretting the words almost immediately.
“Of course,” Athos said, mildly. “They stripped me to just my small clothes and I sat on the floor with my back against Porthos. Aramis bound us with rope and twine until we couldn't move but at all. He blindfolded and gagged us and I wept.”
D'Artagnan looked astonished.
“You cried?” he whispered.
“I did,” Athos said, without shame. “You've done it before. When you felt guilt over Porthos being taken in Lyons.”
D'Artagnan frowned, casting his mind back. He finally recalled the occasion Athos meant, when he'd pinned d'Artagnan to the bed and simulated choking him until he'd been forced to confront the guilt inside him. He'd wept then, unable to escape the internal agony and it had leaked out of him in the form of tears.
Athos was smiling softly when d'Artagnan looked back at him.
“They didn't hurt you?” d'Artagnan asked.
“No.”
“You weren't... they didn't...”
“Nobody was nude and there was nothing sexual about it,” Athos said gently.
“I wish it hadn't come to that,” d'Artagnan said unhappily.
“So do I, truth be told,” Athos said, shrugging slightly. “I do feel it was an issue that needed addressing, though. I may still need them on occasion and I find it gratifying, and a great testament to our Aramis' skill, that he can help me so with no impropriety or even nudity.”
“I want to be there,” d'Artagnan said quietly.
“I think we'd need to trial that when I'm more stable but I see no reason not to,” Athos replied.
“You don't?” d'Artagnan asked in surprise.
Athos had always been quite resistant to the idea in the past, citing his own protective instincts towards d'Artagnan as a barrier to letting go entirely. Aramis, too, had been hesitant to show Porthos in that vulnerable a state as well being highly protective of Athos when he was in need, as evident by the tongue lashing he'd received earlier.
“I surmise it was no coincidence that brought them to the house today,” Athos said, his lips twitching.
“I told Constance to get them,” d'Artagnan admitted.
“You recognised that what they provide is necessary to me. You now understand my need for the clarity and catharsis they can provide is something I've not been able to meet elsewhere and it's not something I am able to take from you, be it currently or ever,” Athos explained. “Your acceptance of this need means the world to me, d'Artagnan, and if you wish to be included to help you accept it easier and make you more comfortable, that's what we will do.”
“Aramis might not... He... He was harsh with me today. I think he blames me.”
“Our Aramis is a protective soul. He gets quite feral when he feels someone or something is protecting what's his,” Athos said slowly. “I'm guessing you had already passed me into his, for lack of a better word, possession.”
D'Artagnan nodded.
“And?” Athos prompted.
“Tried to question his plans,” d'Artagnan admitted.
“Yes. He won't take kindly to that. In Aramis' mind, you will have caused the problem, he will have taken custody of me and then you tried to tell him his business,” Athos said, smiling. He shook his head affectionately. “How lucky I am to have brothers who love me so fiercely.”
“Even if one of them makes stupid mistakes all the time?” d'Artagnan said, glumly staring at his lap.
“You think I didn't when I first got to know them?” Athos asked. “I've had Aramis jump down my throat for comments I've made or things I've tried to do to Porthos as well. Aramis and Porthos have both made mistakes that have upset me. Porthos has fallen foul of Aramis several times, believe me. More than once because of something I have said rather than making his own mistakes.”
D'Artagnan looked up in surprise and his face must have shown it because Athos continued.
“I've never had this kind of falling out with the rest of the Musketeers because I've never been as close. We're people, d'Artagnan. Fallible, imperfect people. You don't get to have the kind of closeness the four of us do without stepping on toes, causing hurt and making mistakes,” Athos said gently. “Porthos occasionally quotes a poem Aramis loves. 'Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting them not to.' I don't think that's untrue.”
There was silence in the room as d'Artagnan digested this idea and he nodded slowly. It was certainly true that the further he and Athos moved into each other's lives and hearts, the more each mismanaged word hurt the other. The joy he felt around Aramis and Porthos was increasing but he was certainly more upset after this last comment from Aramis than he had been by any other. Was it entirely because of Athos or was it because Aramis meant more than he used to. Was this knife edge what it meant to be one of the Inseparables?
“Is it worth it?” he wondered aloud.
Athos tilted his head, asking silently for more explanation.
“The risk of only being ten words away from harming each other,” d'Artagnan explained.
“Oh yes,” Athos said fervently. “The stumbles in the beginning allowed me to fly. The higher you rise, the further you can fall but you wouldn't decline the opportunity to fly, would you?”
D'Artagnan smiled softly and nodded.
“I bear you no ill will for the events that led to today,” Athos said, leaning forwards and taking d'Artagnan's hands. “Nothing was truly intentional and I think it's led to a greater understanding for all of us. Can you say the same?”
D'Artagnan stared down at their hands for a long moment, examining his own heart and head.
“Yes,” he said finally.
Athos smiled and d'Artagnan blushed a little to see some of the pride back in Athos' eyes and knew it was because he'd taken that moment instead of agreeing instantly.
“We've stopped just saying yes and okay without considering it, then?” d'Artagnan asked.
Athos smirked and tugged gently until d'Artagnan leaned forwards and kissed the Gascon sweetly.
“I told Constance I would talk to her when I had settled with you,” Athos said, rising.
“Do you want me with you?” d'Artagnan asked, making to stand.
“You can if you wish but it isn't necessary,” Athos answered.
D'Artagnan chose to follow and they found Constance sitting anxiously in the kitchen.
She looked up as the two men entered and couldn't stop herself biting her lip. She sat, frozen, as Athos walked to the chair beside her and sat, taking her hands.
“I want to apologise, Constance. I'm sure my appearance and actions must have frightened you today,” he said formally.
Constance couldn't deny it so she simply nodded her head, staring at her hands, covered by Athos' warm ones, on the table.
“I have a very troubled past, as you know. I apologise that I can't go into more detail but suffice to say my marriage ended very badly before I came to Paris,” he continued.
Constance nodded again, remembering those dark days when fury used to roll off him in waves as he stood in deserted corners of the courtyard.
“Recent events have made the pain of that period resurface and I handled it very poorly. I am lucky in that I have three brothers who know how to help me through it and I want to promise you I will never let it get that bad again.”
Constance made her eyes find his and she could feel the sincerity in his steady, calm eyes. They had none of the madness she saw earlier.
“You frightened me,” she admitted.
“I am so sorry I frightened you,” Athos said earnestly.
His thumbs stroked the tops of her hands and she could feel herself finally relaxing.
“Did I... push?”
“No, Constance. It was nothing to do with you. The locket I wear is a keepsake from my former life. I have been thinking too much of that life and when you touched it, my current happiness collided with my past misery and it was too much to bear.”
Constance was taken aback by the honesty. This was not the reserved, passive Athos she had known these long years. He was passionate, emphatic and... hopeful. His eyes were hopeful as they searched hers.
“I'm sorry you have been in pain,” she said quietly. “I'm glad you're better.”
“I am,” Athos said, his lips twitching into the small smirk she had seen a flash of earlier. “If you permit, I would like to stay here tonight, as it's so late.”
Constance nodded and stood quickly.
“Of course. You two will be up early, no doubt,” she said in a rush.
“We will,” Athos agreed. “By dawn, no doubt. For that reason I would like it if we could all stay together?”
Constance blushed furiously and looked at d'Artagnan who also seemed to have reddened somewhat.
“Peace, my friends,” Athos said, his voice betraying him slightly as he fought to hide his mirth. “I simply meant to share a bed and sleep. It has been a trying day for us all and I'd appreciate a little closeness after my ordeal... Closeness I wish to share with the both of you.”
Constance looked sideways at d'Artagnan who was looking shocked, seeming to have read more into Athos' assertion than she had. While she watched him, he turned to her, eyebrows raised, and she nodded timidly.
“My thanks,” Athos said, graciously, bowing them both from the room towards d'Artagnan's.
Constance was shaking like a leaf as she stripped herself to her underclothes. D'Artagnan's hands took over as she struggled to undo the laces on her corset and she took several deep breaths.
Athos slid past them like a shadow and she closed her eyes to calm herself down when she heard the clinks of his belt buckles and the soft clunk of him laying his pistol on the floor. The fingers left her back and she managed to undo the rest of her clothing herself, listening as d'Artagnan undid his own as well.
She heard the bedclothes rustle and saw Athos sliding into bed, his shirt and small clothes still on his body and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Just to sleep,” d'Artagnan's voice said behind her and she turned to see him brush past her into bed as well, sliding close to Athos.
The familiar way Athos' arms welcomed her Gascon made her bolder. Athos' hand lay gently on d'Artagnan's tanned chest and Constance watched as the two men locked eyes. Athos drew an exaggerated breath in, d'Artagnan copying him. She left her underskirt on, her chest bare, and nervously climbed into the bed, eager to share in the love she saw in the small shared breath.
Of all of them, Athos seemed the most relaxed and Constance stared up at him curiously. She lay flat on her back beside d'Artagnan who was curled slightly on his side, facing her. Athos was also on his side, his head propped up on one hand as he looked down at them both.
“Must you be so tense?” Athos asked playfully.
“I'm in bed with two of the most gorgeous men I've ever met. Of course I'm bloody tense,” she said.
The two men chuckled and she laughed with them, relaxing as d'Artagnan's hand lay gently on her belly, little finger stroking the folds of her thin underskirt.
She closed her eyes, took several deep breaths, relaxing herself and opened them again. Athos was still watching her calmly but d'Artagnan had closed his eyes, leaning back slightly against Athos. The arm he was laying on was outstretched invitingly. She risked a glance up to Athos who was still calm, watching her patiently.
Constance acted before she could overthink and tugged d'Artagnan's arm into position so she could lay her head and neck over it. She rolled onto her side and shuffled closer to him. After a few seconds of laying there, afraid she'd done something wrong, she relaxed again and wriggled her body into a more comfortable position, resting her face against his throat.
She smiled when she felt d'Artagnan's other hand move around to lay against the small of her back and even wider when she felt Athos' warmer hand clasp over the top.
There was a rustle that meant Athos, too, had lay down to sleep and the three of them lay together in a comfortable silence for a while. She couldn't have said how long it was before she slept but when she woke up at dawn as the two men gently slid out of bed, she felt more rested and more satisfied with life than she could ever remember.