rainjoyswriting (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rainjoyswriting) wrote2017-08-26 09:03 pm
rainjoyswriting) wrote2017-08-26 09:03 pm
Entry tags:
Musketeers fic: Affinityverse
Five Times Aramis Escaped From Richelieu, and One Time That He Couldn't plus one, I'm sorry, Musketeers short, affinityverse (best catalogued in my memories) <3
Disclaimer: The writers of the series never apologised, I'm willing to . . .
Rating: This? G. The world works in mysterious ways.
Warnings and spoilers: The main list's on part one, read sensibly.
Summary: Finally, he's not confused.
Note: I'm sorry.
Aramis blinks, and is leadenly, catastrophically tired, and he doesn't know where he is. Some corridor of some very grand building - some wing of the palace he's yet to visit? None of it looks familiar, and there's no-one else about, and he doesn't remember how he got here . . .
He looks around distractedly, catches sight of his own sleeve, stares at it, looks down at himself, doesn't understand even slightly what he's wearing, feels a prickling fear begin to build that he can't let anyone else see him dressed like this, how would he even respond when they ask him what the hell he's wearing - ?
- then he remembers that he gets confused.
It slows the panic, then allows him to settle back into the bowl of the thought, still a little poised, still not entirely ready to relent; he gets confused, something he remembers being told and told and told until he knows it like he knows his own skin. He gets confused, and so mustn't worry, because he's only confused, and it will come to make sense again.
Then he looks up the corridor again and he's in the villa, and it's like a light coming on except the corridor itself - leading to the captain's office, was he going to see the captain? - is dark, the window at its foot reveals a very grim sky, grumbling with thunder. Porthos, he thinks, and doesn't know why he thinks that and then he does, and he lifts his head more, concerned. Porthos is upset. Where even is Porthos?
The captain's door calls to him, he knows the captain is inside, knows the beacon of safety from all confusion he would be, but more pressing is the concern that he doesn't currently know where anyone else is (Why is he alone? He's never alone.). Then there are footsteps at his back and he turns, already saying out loud, "Porth-?"
Ahead of him, some little distance across the polished wood floor, Richelieu turns the corner onto the corridor.
They both start, Aramis falling back a step and hand quick to his side where his gun is strapped to him, Richelieu startled enough to touch the wall for balance. For a moment, across the corridor, they stare at each other, and lightning tries the scene out in stark black and white but isn't willing to commit to it, and then they're just staring at one another again, because as little as Aramis is ever alone, he is never, never left on his own with him.
Then -
D'Artagnan is too close; not a member of their circle yet, but his rift is close, very close, close enough for a rift as distorted in time as Aramis' is to touch, to lean against. Maybe it's that. Maybe it's looking right into Richelieu's eyes for an extended second, something he's never really done. But, looking right at him, he knows. Very suddenly, like the lightning again except it's permanent, he knows, and he knows everything.
And he sees, in the sudden sharp movement of Richelieu's eyebrows, that he knows that Aramis knows as well.
Another semi-second of stillness, both hesitant on what to do, now, all that knowledge like Eden offered its fruit up and it would have been better to never open one's teeth. Aramis' hand hovers over his gun, reeling on too much knowledge, too alone with it, he needs his circle to make a plan, he never knows what to do on his own and with all this? But he's armed. The captain is in the room at his back. Richelieu is just standing there. He has the chance -
But Aramis' hand was never going to be as fast as Richelieu's mind.
Disclaimer: The writers of the series never apologised, I'm willing to . . .
Rating: This? G. The world works in mysterious ways.
Warnings and spoilers: The main list's on part one, read sensibly.
Summary: Finally, he's not confused.
Note: I'm sorry.
Aramis blinks, and is leadenly, catastrophically tired, and he doesn't know where he is. Some corridor of some very grand building - some wing of the palace he's yet to visit? None of it looks familiar, and there's no-one else about, and he doesn't remember how he got here . . .
He looks around distractedly, catches sight of his own sleeve, stares at it, looks down at himself, doesn't understand even slightly what he's wearing, feels a prickling fear begin to build that he can't let anyone else see him dressed like this, how would he even respond when they ask him what the hell he's wearing - ?
- then he remembers that he gets confused.
It slows the panic, then allows him to settle back into the bowl of the thought, still a little poised, still not entirely ready to relent; he gets confused, something he remembers being told and told and told until he knows it like he knows his own skin. He gets confused, and so mustn't worry, because he's only confused, and it will come to make sense again.
Then he looks up the corridor again and he's in the villa, and it's like a light coming on except the corridor itself - leading to the captain's office, was he going to see the captain? - is dark, the window at its foot reveals a very grim sky, grumbling with thunder. Porthos, he thinks, and doesn't know why he thinks that and then he does, and he lifts his head more, concerned. Porthos is upset. Where even is Porthos?
The captain's door calls to him, he knows the captain is inside, knows the beacon of safety from all confusion he would be, but more pressing is the concern that he doesn't currently know where anyone else is (Why is he alone? He's never alone.). Then there are footsteps at his back and he turns, already saying out loud, "Porth-?"
Ahead of him, some little distance across the polished wood floor, Richelieu turns the corner onto the corridor.
They both start, Aramis falling back a step and hand quick to his side where his gun is strapped to him, Richelieu startled enough to touch the wall for balance. For a moment, across the corridor, they stare at each other, and lightning tries the scene out in stark black and white but isn't willing to commit to it, and then they're just staring at one another again, because as little as Aramis is ever alone, he is never, never left on his own with him.
Then -
D'Artagnan is too close; not a member of their circle yet, but his rift is close, very close, close enough for a rift as distorted in time as Aramis' is to touch, to lean against. Maybe it's that. Maybe it's looking right into Richelieu's eyes for an extended second, something he's never really done. But, looking right at him, he knows. Very suddenly, like the lightning again except it's permanent, he knows, and he knows everything.
And he sees, in the sudden sharp movement of Richelieu's eyebrows, that he knows that Aramis knows as well.
Another semi-second of stillness, both hesitant on what to do, now, all that knowledge like Eden offered its fruit up and it would have been better to never open one's teeth. Aramis' hand hovers over his gun, reeling on too much knowledge, too alone with it, he needs his circle to make a plan, he never knows what to do on his own and with all this? But he's armed. The captain is in the room at his back. Richelieu is just standing there. He has the chance -
But Aramis' hand was never going to be as fast as Richelieu's mind.
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Still, I am sorry, honey, and thank you for reading it despite it all ^^;
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Thank you!
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(Anonymous) 2017-08-27 05:09 pm (UTC)(link)- Niitza (internally screaming and flailing)