Grief is the price we pay for love

[armedagainstlove]

Athos doesn't even realize what's happened, at first.

Ever since Milady had arrived insisting that Athos had been on his way to meet her, ever since he had returned back to Paris and discovered Aramis' treason with the Queen and the result of such a coupling, ever since Rochefort's rearrival on the scene caused him to slouch back to the Nexus, he has been drinking like he hasn't since right after his wife's supposed death. It is in this state that he'd fumbled through a well-known door that he'd thought harmless to him.

Intoxicated with the red wine, he does not notice the shift of gravity in his body, nor the length of his hair different, swept up by the hat. All Athos knows is that he has drank two bottles and is eager for a third, lest he fall into the eager pit of grief and the other complicated affections that lie in wait for him, all coaxed on by the woman whose locket he no longer wears.

When he arrives at the bar for his usual, he's met with confusion. The bartender states that she hasn't been around enough to have a usual. Athos smacks his palm against the counter, his rage brought forward with the incense of it all. "Wine," he snaps, calming himself before his demands grow angrier and more frustrated. "Just bring me wine," he mutters, voice hoarse from the drink.

He slumps into his seat and peers down for the first time, unsteadily taking account of how his clothes now seem to sag and slump on him. Sighing with the inevitable realisation, he lifts an elegant long-fingered hand to the bartender. "Make that two," he adds, before allowing his forehead to collapse against that waiting hand.

How could he have thought this would pass him by forever?

He grasps both bottles of wine greedily when they arrive, eager to trudge back to his room and escape the prying eyes of the public.

Comments

[temperamentalsteel]

"I believe you," he had to admit. Even as he said as much, he signaled for two large glasses of water. Upon learning it was safe and even beneficial to drink, d'Artagnan had come to find it refreshing and clearing.

"What happened?"

[armedagainstlove]

D'Artagnan will discover the truth soon enough. There's no reason to keep it hidden and yet he feels ashamed to have to own up to it. "My wife is here," he says, feeling he has given much away simply by the choice of words in what he calls her.

[temperamentalsteel]

"Your..." D'Artagnan's eyes went wide at the implications. Athos' epithets for Milady changed now and then, their nuances clear even to him. "Another bottle!" he called.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, knowing that he needs the wine, but that his head is spinning with both the shock of all this and the confusion. "She says I was to go to England with her," he says. "I can't believe that to be true. How can it be?"

[temperamentalsteel]

"She's got to be lying," d'Artagnan said. Milady de Winter lied as easily as she breathed. Athos was too smart and too scarred to give in to such wiles. No, d'Artagnan thought, she must have been trying to win her way back in as King's mistress.

[armedagainstlove]

"I do not know anymore," Athos confesses, because while he would imagine that his wife would lie often and without compulsion, he understands that there are flickering moments in which she does speak the truth. "I suspect I will not know her mind until I know whether she works for herself or another."

[temperamentalsteel]

"Be careful." Regarding both Milady's wiles and Athos' own heart. Athos was many things, cry and tight-lipped, but he as just as much a friend and d'Artagnan had no desire to see him hurt.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos knows that d'Artagnan is wary for his sake, but of all the people in the world, perhaps Athos is the one who is not in danger because he knows Anne the best that anyone can. And yet, perhaps that puts him most in danger of all. "Maybe that's why I'm a woman," he notes. "So that I can spy without bringing suspicion upon myself."

[temperamentalsteel]

"I'm not sure you'd go unnoticed," d'Artagnan said, smiling thinly. It was peculiar to say as much to someone he knew well and knew as a man, but it didn't make it any less true. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

[armedagainstlove]

"Whatever it is you're implying about my looks, I'm insulted," Athos deadpans, barely opening his eyes as he rubs at his face, aware that he must be a mess given that he hardly feels properly like himself at the moment. "I'll find myself suitable clothes, perhaps even a brush. And then who would ever know it's me?"

[temperamentalsteel]

D'Artagnan shook his head, uncertain if should be relieved that his remark had gone amiss. "That's not the problem. You're beautiful. Everyone will turn their head to see."

[armedagainstlove]

Athos blinks for a moment, unsure if he has truly heard d'Artagnan properly. He imagines he could not have, for the man had said that Athos is beautiful. He passes a hand over his hair, knowing it is a mess by the single touch. "You jest," he dryly deadpans. "I must look ridiculous."

[temperamentalsteel]

"Not in the least," he said, leaving it at that. No more ridiculous than he'd looked, that was certain. "You're very striking."

[armedagainstlove]

Athos blinks and stares at d'Artagnan, wondering if he ought to be worried about the fact that he is, apparently, a striking woman despite his current condition. "Does that mean that I'm striking when normal and falling apart?"

[temperamentalsteel]

"Is that the sort of thing we're allowed to talk about in this place?" d'Artagnan asked, rather than say 'yes.'

[armedagainstlove]

"I don't see why not," Athos harrumphs. "I'm drunk and a woman, you're aiding me so I don't become sick all over everyone. What better time than right now?" he queries, for he imagines there will be no other opportunity like this to be honest.

[temperamentalsteel]

"In that case, then, you are an irresistibly beautiful woman," d'Artagnan said wryly. "D'you need food? Something to soak up all that wine."

[armedagainstlove]

Athos does not know how he can be irresistible when he likely reeks of wine, alcohol, and the sweat from stewing in such things, but he trusts d'Artagnan's tastes and remarks enough not to press. "Bread is usually a welcome thing after that much red wine and brandy, yes," he murmurs, trying to sit up as the room spins awfully.

[temperamentalsteel]

D'Artagnan nodded, signalling for a waitress and ordering something warm and simple to ease the belly. "What will you do, then?"

[armedagainstlove]

"After I have set myself to rights?" Athos postulates, shaking his head. "I've no idea. Go back to my room and drink until I cannot think any longer. Avoid my wife? Avoid Aramis and Porthos?" These all sound like perfectly good ideas and he's simply not sure which one to start with.

[temperamentalsteel]

"Well, at least I'm not on the list," d'Artagnan said, not expecting Athos to find any humor in that statement, no matter what he tried. If Porthos and Aramis couldn't manage it, well...

[armedagainstlove]

"If only because we are speaking right now," Athos deadpans, but there is a trace of mirth in the words, a hint of joking lingering in the corners of his eyes. He is miserable, yes, but not so much so that it is worse than all the times he has been miserable in the past.