Work Text:
The day comes faster than he had expected, reminding of his father now long dead. And though he mourns the loss of his father no longer with him, he wonder if he hadn't been killed would fate have brought him to the door of the Musketeers Garrisons.
Would he have still met his friends, now fellow Musketeers in arms?
He sits on his bed, having asked his friends to let him be with only his thoughts for the evening and stares at the bottle of fine wine sitting on the small table in his room. He could drink or he could not drink from it, part of him wonders if he would stop should he start.
Mind made up, he stands and attaches his sword and gun to his belt with his cloak on his shoulders before going to the door and planning to relieve one of his fellows of night guard duty.