"Porthos hates that word," murmurs Aramis, looking down at their entwined hands. "I know - " he says and stops, hating that he has never been able to articulate this to Athos. It is clear enough in his own heart, but he can't blame a man who hid him from a jealous husband on their very first meeting for holding doubts.

"I know you have thought me fickle," he says at length. "But for years, it was as if there was an itch beneath my skin. I wanted a home, a family, and I found as close to it as I ever thought I might in the garrison - a bed, brothers - more than some ever find, Athos. But it never felt quite like enough. And then..."

Aramis shrugs. "Darrow. The world opened up, Athos. Porthos is more than my brother now, and you are here. My life is more complete than it has ever been, and Porthos is happy. Nothing could make me endanger that, so you must believe me when I say I am sure. We both are."