The Savoy Collection
A gathering of Savoy/The Good Soldier related fics.
(Open, Unmoderated)
Random works
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Summary
Aramis struggles at the one year anniversary of Savoy. Porthos handles it badly.
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Wherein Marsac falls victim to a pagan god.
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While Porthos is on leave, Aramis is deployed on a training exercise in Savoy.
Series
- Part 2 of More than Brothers
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“You are neither dead nor dying, and I will not treat you as if you are!” Treville snaps, and sighs at the weary look Aramis gives him. He is already tired of dancing around the subject. Let courtiers play their word games; he must speak his mind. “What is it you wish to say?”
Aramis looks away. “You already know.”
“And you already know my answer,” Treville says with an arch of his eyebrow. “Yet you struggled all the way here anyway, so you may as well say it.” Aramis hesitates, and Treville feels his heart leap. “Have you even said the words aloud?” he asks, keeping his tone light.
Aramis shakes his head. “I am yet to start talking to myself.”
“Then why not say it now?” Treville urges. “See how it sounds.”
Aramis gives him a suspicious look, but sets his jaw after a moment. “If you insist. Captain Treville, I wish - I wish to resign my commission.”
Series
- Part 2 of How Hard It Is To Come Home
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April of 1625 had been one of the hardest months of Porthos' life. But in a strange way, it had probably been one of the best as well.
Savoy-centric origin story, in which Aramis is grieving, Porthos is a saint, and Athos just kind of shows up, eventually.
Series
- Part 1 of Winter, Late in Leaving: the series
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In the wake of Marsac's burial, Aramis doesn't sleep.
Inspired by the idea I’ve seen pop up in several places that Marsac would come back as a zombie, as evidenced by Aramis leaving the sword stuck in his grave for him. Despite the silly-sounding premise, this is not a crack fic - quite the contrary, actually.
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A few years after Savoy, Aramis' head still troubles him at times.
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"You're not really here," Marsac says, tongue slow and heavy. Aramis looks pale and tired and flickering. He shrugs, and the blood slips fresh from the wound at his temple, fury-red in the stark forest of white and black. “No I’m not. You left me, remember?”
Marsac walks away from Aramis, but somehow he never really leaves.
I wrote this today in response to Donna_Immaculata's brilliant Dance Macabre, which really made me want to write something from Marsac's point of view. His messed up, slightly bonkers point of view. Gen but could be seen as Aramis/Marsac.
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The musketeers are assigned to protect the Duke and Duchess of Savoy on their journey home. Athos thinks this is a bad idea, and he turns out to be absolutely right.
AU following The Good Soldier.
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But the blood, the blood, the blood - there’s none left in him, in anyone any more. It was all shed in that clearing, on that night, pints and gallons of it until the snow was red and curdled. There’s nothing left to give.
A tragedy, in reverse.