Fandom: The Scarlet Pimpernel
Pairing: Lord Anthony Dewhurst/Armand St. Just
Rating: PG, since I do go ahead and mention torture a tiny bit
Word Count: 689
Summary: Set at the very end of the musical. While Marguerite and Percy have their lovey-dovey reprise on the voyage home, her brother gets romanced as well. First person, Dewhurst's POV.
Author's Note: Wow. In all the time I've been here and with all the things I 'ship, I never wrote anything 'til now... Anyway, I just saw a fabulous local production of this show, in which our Dewhurst and Armand kind of accidentally turned out sort of slashy. (which is weird, because honestly, they barely spend any time together aside from big group numbers with all the boys) So now I totally 'ship it, like burning. No one else does, which is sad, but I hold out hope that someday someone else will. My plan is to continue writing about them, since I've sort of planned out more of the recovery... So consider this something of an introduction to a longer little saga.
“Lady, attend to your husband, and let him attend to you.” I clasp a hand to Percy’s shoulder, and rest the other over Marguerite’s. “I promise to make your brother’s welfare my foremost concern for the rest of the journey.”
“That is very kind of you.”
“Not at all.” I smile. “It is both a privilege and a pleasure. Your husband and your brother are the two finest men I have ever known, and I would do anything in my power to assist either. I think it is to the benefit of both if I take over the care of the one, and leave you to the care of the other.”
She laughs, and the happy couple repairs to the main cabin of the Day Dream, and Armand and I to the second.
“It is very kind of you.” He echoes his sister’s words.
“Hardly that.” My face heats. “Besides… she shouldn’t have to play nursemaid to both the men in her life.”
“No, I shouldn’t want her to see me like this if there were any helping it…”
I help him to undress, just to the waist, and I start the job of cleaning up after the job Chauvelin’s men have done on him. I have seen worse, at least, but I can’t bear to think of the torture he has endured.
“This is the very least that I can do for you.” I whisper. “I never should have left your side, when we were both in France. Then you would not have been taken…”
“Or they should have caught us both,” He winces a little as I clean up the worst of his old wounds. “And then one of us would be dead. He only needed one…”
“Still. It was the worst news I have ever had to deliver. The greatest failure I have ever felt. I did—I felt it so keenly… I never want—“
“Anthony.” I press his hand between mine, and for a moment I fear this is too much, but Armand smiles.
“Of course. Is your opinion of me really so high?”
“Higher.” I promise.
“You know when I recover, if things are still so bad in France, I will return whenever the League needs me.”
“I know. As will I, as will we all, until this unpleasantness is behind us. But it may be a long recovery, Armand… When we do return, together, I will not let myself stray so far from your side, whatever the danger. This will not happen again.”
“I like that,” I smile. “’Antoine’.”
“Antoine…” He smiles as well, warmer and slyer than before. “And here I was afraid that Englishmen didn’t… But you like me?”
“Very much.” My throat feels dry, my mouth clumsy. “I am devoted to you.”
“Antoine,” He draws me down to a kiss. “I think you are very sweet… But someday you will have to get over this silly need to protect me.”
“When I no longer see the marks those villains left on you, then I will get over it.”
It doesn’t matter if they do not scar. I know in my mind’s eye they won’t fade, they can never fade so far the memory won’t be burned into me.
Armand lays back and lets me continue the cleaning and bandaging, his eyes on me lazy and intimate. Once I’ve done all I can with the resources on board the Day Dream I lie beside him and lace my fingers with his.
“At least let me protect you as well. Leave a poor man his dignity, Antoine.”
“Of course.” I promise. “If you like, I—I can stay with you, until you’ve recovered. If you want me to, I won’t go until you can as well.”
“D’accord.” Armand sighs. “You will care for me, and I will recover, and we will return to France together, either to continue our work or to celebrate a time that does not need it.”
“D’accord.” I kiss his cheek. “I shall plan for the former, but I do pray for the latter.”
Soon, he is asleep. Not so long after, I follow.