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Shrouded in Mystery
A Musketeers story by Deana
This is my Fete des Mousquetaires entry for June!

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Aramis winced as he headed up the stairs to Captain Treville's office. He'd been ill for the past week and the pain in his throat was slow to fade. He knocked before opening the door, and he was surprised to see a stranger sitting in the chair across from the captain.

"Aramis," said Treville. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I feel better today," Aramis answered, walking inside.

"You don't sound it," said Treville.

Aramis cleared his throat. His voice had come out scratchier than he'd hoped. "I'm fine."

Treville nodded, indicating the man in the chair. "This is Athos; he joined this morning."

Aramis smiled. "Pleased to meet you," he said, holding out a hand.

"Likewise," Athos said, shaking it.

"I've already seen a demonstration of his swordplay," said Treville. "He beat everyone who fought him."

Aramis' eyebrows went up. "Really?" He looked at Athos. "You won't need much in the way of training then."

Athos said nothing, simply nodding.

"You can head down to the yard, Athos," said Treville. "I'd like to speak to Aramis alone for a moment. He'll be down shortly."

Athos stood, gave them a nod, and left.

Aramis waited until the door closed before speaking. "He doesn't say much."

Treville shook his head. "No, he doesn't. He answered my questions, but offered nothing else. All I know about him is his name, that he's five years older than you, and that he's an excellent swordsman."

"You don't think he might be an escaped criminal or a murderer or something, do you?" Aramis asked.

Treville shook his head. "No. He speaks like a noble and has the bearing of one…he must be one of the lesser sons who didn't inherit, and so left his family's estate."

Aramis nodded; many musketeers had the same background. "Well, if anyone can get anything else out of him, it's me!"

Treville nodded. "I have no doubt. Just take it easy today; I can see that you're not fully recovered yet."

Aramis smiled and headed for the door. "I'm fine!" He walked out and closed it, chuckling when he heard Treville exclaim, "I've heard that before!"

At the bottom of the stairs, he found Athos sitting at the table, polishing his sword. He sat on the edge of the table and watched.

Athos didn't even glance at him. "Yes?"

"That looks like a good sword," Aramis said.

"It is," Athos answered.

Aramis waited, but he said nothing else. "Where are you from?"

"France."

Aramis smiled. "Obviously, but where in France?"

Athos continued to clean his sword. "That is no one's business but my own."

Aramis blinked, surprised at his rudeness. "I'm just trying to be friendly."

"You've succeeded," said Athos. "But I am not friendly."

"I can see that," said Aramis. "Forgive me for bothering you." With that, he stood up and walked away.

"Aramis!" he heard.

Looking up, he found Porthos walking over to him.

"You feelin' better?" Porthos asked.

Aramis nodded, though his throat was still sore.

"Who's that?" Porthos asked, gesturing to the table.

"Our newest member," Aramis said. He coughed a little and rubbed his throat. "He isn't very nice…in fact, he's not nice at all."

Porthos' eyebrows shot up. "You mean you didn't succeed in makin' him your friend yet? One minute is usually all the time you need!"

"I know," Aramis answered. "I can't understand it."

"What do you know about him?"

"Only that his name is Athos, he's five years older than me, and he's good with a sword. I think he's from a noble family, but he wouldn't tell me where he's from."

"Mysterious," Porthos remarked.

"He appears to be shrouded in mystery," Aramis agreed. "Well it's a mystery that I intend to solve!"

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Lunchtime came quickly, and Aramis headed right over to the table where Athos was still sitting. He placed his plate down across from Athos and gave him a bright smile.

Athos looked like he couldn't believe that Aramis had the nerve to come back.

Porthos approached with his plate of food a few seconds later and sat beside Aramis.

"This is our table," Aramis said.

Without a word, Athos started to stand up.

"Nono," Aramis said, holding out a hand to stop him. "I didn't mean that you couldn't sit here! I'm explaining why I came back after you made it clear that you weren't interested in speaking with me." He coughed afterwards, trying to suppress it.

Porthos hid his smirk, knowing that Aramis was purposely making it sound like he was insulted, to see if he got a reaction.

Athos continued to polish his sword, even though it shined like the sun. "I don't socialize."

"A response!" Aramis joked. "That's a good sign!"

Porthos had to hide another smirk.

Athos grew annoyed and finally looked at them. "What exactly do you want from me?"

Aramis blinked. "I'd like to know the person who I'll be fighting beside…to know who it is that I'll be placing my trust in."

Athos hesitated at that.

"And I," said Porthos. "Want to have more than one friend here."

Athos frowned at his odd statement, before he realized why.

Porthos nodded. "Yeah, it takes most people a while to see past the color of my skin." He risked holding out his hand. "Porthos, by the way."

Athos couldn't ignore the hand, so he shook it. "Athos."

"Yeah, Aramis told me," Porthos said, before shooting a sympathetic glance at Aramis when he continued to cough. "So what made you join the musketeers, Athos?"

Athos wasn't sure how to react now that both of them were trying to make him talk; especially since they had good reason. "I…" he hesitated.

"Here you go, Aramis!" they suddenly heard.

Everyone turned to see old Serge limping over with a mug. "Some tea for your throat!"

Aramis smiled before coughing again. "Thank you," he croaked.

Serge placed it down in front of him before looking at Athos. "A new recruit!" he exclaimed. "What's your name, son?"

Athos frowned at being called a lowly recruit. "I am Athos."

"I'm Serge," said the cook. "I make all the food! Is there anythin' that you can't eat?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?" Athos replied.

"Any foods that give you a bad reaction," Serge explained.

Athos looked bewildered. "No?"

Serge nodded. "Good, that'll make my life easier. Don't give that one anythin' that contains lemongrass, no matter what you do!" he said, gesturing towards Aramis.

Aramis made a face as he drank his tea. "Yes, please don't."

"And why is that?" Athos asked, curiosity overruling his desire for them to stop talking to him.

"He can't breathe if he eats it," Porthos told him.

Athos' eyebrows went up, despite himself.

Aramis nodded. "We aren't jesting; exposure to lemongrass could kill me."*

Athos slowly nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Aramis looked relieved. "Thank you." He coughed again and drank more of his tea.

"Did you need the other tea?" Serge asked him.

Aramis shook his head. "The problem is my throat, not my lungs."ˆ

"You better not be lyin'," Serge sternly said.

"I swear," Aramis said.

Athos watched the conversation with puzzlement.

Serge looked like he wasn't sure if he should believe him. "It's lunchtime ya know," he said to Athos. "I'll go get you a plate; you'll love my beef stew!"

Athos wasn't very hungry, but he didn't want to be more impolite than he'd already been. "Thank you."

Serge smiled and limped away.

Athos looked at the cup of tea that Aramis was drinking. "Something else that I should know?"

Aramis shrugged. "Sometimes my lungs act up. A special root makes it easier for me to breathe when it's boiled into tea."*

Athos shook his head. "A musketeer who has difficulty breathing? How on earth can you fight?"

"It was a childhood problem," Aramis answered. "I'm fine now unless an illness affects my lungs."

Athos looked skeptical.

"See why it's important to get to know each other?" Aramis said with a smile. "Suppose you gave me a tart that was flavored with lemongrass, because we never spoke so I never told you that I can't eat it?"

Porthos nodded as he ate.

Instead of Athos saying, 'you're right', he answered, "Why would I give you a tart?"

Porthos guffawed.

Aramis chuckled, shaking his head.

"Especially if Serge knows not to use lemongrass," Athos continued.

"Touche," said Aramis. "Yet there's still a chance that we stop at a bakery and you decide to get some tarts for your friends and oh, sorry, this one can kill you Aramis, but eat it, it tastes wonderful!"

Porthos shook his head. "Not funny!"

Athos had to agree. "You shouldn't take it so lightly," he said, surprised at Aramis' flippant attitude.

Aramis shrugged as he drank the rest of his tea. "I don't…I'm just trying to relieve the tension of such a difficult subject."

Athos realized that it was a nervous conversation for Aramis, and he didn't blame him.

"So," said Porthos. "Have we made you comfortable enough to tell us about yourself, now?"

Athos looked down at his sword again.

Serge suddenly came back with a plate and fork, which he placed in front of Athos. "Here you are, son!"

"Thank you," Athos said.

Serge smiled and remained where he was.

Athos realized that the cook was waiting for him to taste it, so he did. His eyebrows went up slightly at the taste. "It's delicious."

Serge nodded and taped his shoulder. "Told ya you'd like it!" With that he walked off.

Athos continued to eat, hoping that the others wouldn't continue to press him for details.

When Aramis and Porthos saw that he wasn't going to answer, they continued to eat themselves.

Treville came down soon after with another recruit, and Aramis stood, knowing what was expected of him.

Athos watched as Aramis unsheathed his sword and headed over.

"He's the captain's right-hand-man," Porthos told him. "The best swordsman and the best marksman. He's also been a musketeer the longest."

Athos said nothing, and simply watched as Aramis and the recruit started to fight.

The recruit held his own as Aramis put him through the paces to gauge his level of skill, but the exertion was making Aramis cough.

Treville knew that it might be dangerous for him to continue. "Stop!" he called.

Aramis and the recruit halted.

"You're not well enough yet, Aramis," said Treville. He looked towards the table. "Athos, come here."

Athos was surprised, and stood, bringing his sword. When he and Aramis passed each other, Aramis gave him a pat on the arm.

Athos stopped walking and looked at his arm, as if to say, 'what was that?'

"Aramis was ill," said Treville. "He obviously still is. I'd like you to fight Pierre instead."

Athos nodded and walked across from the recruit and got into position.

Aramis and Porthos watched as Athos fought the man.

"The captain was right…about his skill," said Aramis, still coughing.

"Shush," said Porthos. "Save your breath."

Athos fought well, going easy on the recruit to discover his style, strengths, and weaknesses. He eventually disarmed him and walked back to Treville. "He puts too much weight on the wrong leg," he said. "He leans his upper body back too far and holds his sword-arm too stiff. He will improve if those issues are addressed."

Treville nodded, impressed. "I agree. Thank you."

Athos nodded and passed him. He headed in a direction away from the table but looked towards Aramis and Porthos to see them smiling, so with a sigh, he changed his course.

"The captain is right about your skill," Aramis said to him before coughing again.

"Thank you," was Athos' only reply.

The next day, Athos desperately hoped that Treville had duties that would separate him from Aramis. He simply didn't have the mental stamina to deal with the happy and talkative man, especially after the dream that he'd had the night before.

His brother had been in it.

Athos sighed as he headed into the courtyard for morning muster. One look at Aramis, and he realized that the young musketeer painfully reminded him of Thomas, who'd had the same sunny personality.

Aramis was coughing again as they stood in line, though he was obviously trying to suppress it.

Treville took attendance before saying, "Aramis, Porthos, and Athos; you have marketplace patrol duty today."

Athos nearly groaned. He had to walk around with them for hours?!

Aramis and Porthos nodded, before heading to the kitchen for breakfast.

Athos just stood there for a moment, hesitating.

"Something wrong, Athos?" Treville asked.

"No sir," he answered, before following the others to the kitchen. When he walked in, someone suddenly grabbed his arm and Athos nearly drew his sword.

"Hurry, you don't want to miss Serge's sausages!"

Athos blinked as Aramis dragged him to the line of men waiting to be served. A plate was shoved into his hand and was soon filled with eggs, sausage, and a thick piece of fresh bread, hot from the oven. He was pulled again over to a table and practically pushed down to sit.

Porthos was already there, digging in. He waved at Athos with his fork as he chewed.

Aramis started eating without a word, so Athos ate too, glad that no one was talking.

Aramis coughed occasionally through the meal, and wasn't surprised when Serge came over with a mug.

"Are you any better today, Aramis?" he asked.

Aramis nodded. "Yes, thanks to your wonderful tea!"

Serge chuckled and patted his arm before heading away.

"Treville gave us easy duty," Porthos said to Athos.

Not sure how to respond, Athos nodded.

Aramis coughed again.

"And that's why," Porthos went on, gesturing to Aramis.

"How will walking around help him?" Athos dared to ask.

"Today is stable-mucking day," said Porthos. "Shoeing horses, and all that. Strollin' around at our own pace is much easier than that is."

Athos saw his point.

"And you benefitted too," said Aramis, after drinking some of his tea. "Stable-mucking is usually the first thing a new musketeer does; to gain discipline. But since you're with us, you got the easier job too."

"With you?" Athos said, a sinking feeling starting to build in his stomach. "Have the three of us been made a team?"

"The captain saw how brilliantly we were getting along yesterday," Aramis said. "So he paired us at least for the time being."

Athos' heart started beating faster. "So I'll be with you every day?"

Aramis looked up from his food, with a hurt expression. "That displeases you?"

Athos hesitated before looking at Porthos, who looked defeated himself, assuming that it was because of his skin color. "Of course not," he found himself replying. "I'm…glad to remain with people who I'm acquainted with." It was one of the hardest lies he'd ever told.

Aramis' face lit up, and Porthos smiled too. "Wonderful!" Aramis said. "The three of us will become inseparable, I'm sure!"

Athos' slight smile was very, very forced.

After breakfast, they headed out of the garrison and strolled through the marketplace.

Athos noticed that Aramis had a hand on his pistol. "Does trouble strike often?" he asked.

Aramis shrugged with one shoulder. "Sometimes. A boring fortnight can pass with nothing, or there could be a robbery every day for a week."

"Boring?" Athos echoed.

"Aramis likes to shoot people," Porthos said from his left, before chuckling.

With a start, Athos realized that they'd boxed him in.

"I do not!" Aramis said from Athos' right. "I hate to kill people, which is why I practiced so hard to become as good a marksman as I am. That way, I know that I won't kill someone by accident. Wherever I aim is exactly where I'll hit a man."

Athos was inwardly amazed by that, though he wouldn't show it.

"One of our Lord's commandments is 'Thou Shalt Not Kill', so I ensure that whenever I'm forced to, it's in defense of someone else's life."

Someone else's? "You do include yourself in that statement, I trust?"

Aramis smiled. "Oh! Is that a note of concern in your voice?"

"Of course not," said Athos. "I was just curious, that's all."

Porthos roared with laughter.

Aramis chuckled and put an arm around each of them. "Oh Athos, I don't know what it is that you came to Paris to escape, but Porthos and I are just what you need in your life."

The insight into his past startled Athos, but before he could react, mayhem abruptly broke loose.

"I want my money back!" a man shouted, before suddenly grabbing a woman and jabbing a pistol into her side. "I'll kill her!"

The woman's husband exclaimed, "Anne!"

Athos stopped walking. Anne…

"Unhand that woman!" Aramis shouted, pointing his pistol.

Anne…

"No!" the man exclaimed.

Anne…

All sound seemed to cease, and all that Athos could hear in his mind was that name…Anne…Anne…Anne…

Dark hair, white dress…flowers…Anne…

Athos was brought out of his trance when someone violently pushed him. He landed on the ground as two gunshots sounded, and he looked around as people started to scream and run.

"Are you all right?"

Athos blinked at Aramis, who had apparently been the one to knock him down. "I'm fine."

"Good," said Aramis, pushing himself up to sit. He grimaced and wrapped an arm around his ribs.

Athos saw blood. "Are you hit?" he asked with shock.

Aramis nodded. "Of course I am; he fired at you." With that, he bonelessly slumped towards Athos.

Athos caught him, shocked speechless.

Porthos had handed the shooter into the hands of two Red Guards and hurried back when he saw Aramis and Athos on the ground. "He's shot?!"

"Yes," said Athos, still in shock.

Porthos pulled Aramis off the ground and quickly ran back towards the garrison, carrying him as if he weighed nothing.

Athos stood and quickly followed, as each drop of blood fell from Aramis to stain the ground…

TBC

'Hidden Danger': story ID 12152923 and 'No Safe Place to Breathe': story ID 12508485