"With the ring I have on my finger, not a single soul not Athos would've had a chance," Porthos promises with a fond, ridiculously loving grin that appears when Aramis gets his shirt off, ruffling his curls and revealing him in all his youthful, eager glory. "He's pretty, but I prefer a little more roughness. Needs a beard. Needs scars and callouses," he murmurs, grabbing onto Aramis' hand.

"I mean, unless the suitors were very persuasive..."