The Journal of A Musketeer

It wasn't the humiliation of being beaten that made Venice the tragedy that it was. Certainly they had been humiliated, bested, and - for their trouble - drummed out of the Musketeers, but that alone couldn't have broken Athos' spirit like Milady's betrayal had. Aramis hadn't thought much of his friend's depression at first. It seemed like a normal reaction to heartbreak. Before long, though, it became clear to him that Athos was not going to simply move on from this. None of them had much purpose without the Musketeers, but only Athos was thoroughly destroyed in the wake of the mission that had taken that purpose from them.

Someone had to take responsibility for the practical things. Among them, that would never be Porthos. So Aramis took a job working for the city, enforcing the most minor of its laws. Athos had said nothing, going about his drunken meanderings as though he didn't even know about it, though Aramis was aware that very little escaped the man's notice.

Some evenings Aramis accompanied Athos to the tavern just so he wouldn't go alone. When he went alone, he got too drunk to see straight and started fights and, without companionship and despite considerable skill, lost them. Aramis suspected he started those fights because he wanted to lose them. The alcohol was an excuse, to save face when he was sober again. And those were the good nights. The ones where he came home silent and disappeared into his room with a haunted look on his face were the worst.