Not until Porthos says the words does Athos realize quite how tired he is. It’s a weariness that seeps into his bones, but leaves behind content. Athos makes an absent, approving sound, a smirk briefly curving at his lips as he curls towards Porthos and closes his eyes.
Perhaps he will rise to eat in a few hours. Or perhaps he will stay here forever.
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Perhaps he will rise to eat in a few hours. Or perhaps he will stay here forever.