The dawn light crept across the battlefield with its train of mist. Another cold, grey day, thought Aramis as he shivered into an extra shirt before donning his doublet – a desperate attempt to keep the cold at bay. Next to him sat the new man, his new assignment. His mule, the others liked to joke. He'd done well so far, having survived his first few days at camp at the enemy's lines. He had performed the drills well enough and Aramis saw some of his skills as he sparred with another man earlier. "He might make it after all," thought Aramis.
But today would be different Aramis knew. Today they had orders.
Aramis looked at the man, Athos, he had introduced himself as, and caught the man's bright blue eyes staring back at him.
"Keep him alive," Treville had ordered. Aramis had never yet failed Treville, and he wasn't going to start making a habit of that now.
oOo
It had been years now since Treville had found Aramis. Literally found him, bleeding and bemused as the captain came upon him walking back across the front line. Barely 17, the young man smirked at the older soldier.
"If you are looking for the enemy, you are heading the wrong way," he called as Treville brought his troupe to a halt encircling the young man. "I was passing through the area and had the pleasure of dispatching the enemy scouts," he said grinning.
"Explain," said Treville curtly, addressing the boy. His doublet was torn and he had something tied around his waist. Treville could see signs of blood on the material, but whether it was the boy's or someone else's, Treville could not be sure. "Where is your regiment? Who are you serving under?"
Aramis straightened his shoulders at the address from the Captain.
"General Marchand, sir. He sent myself and two others to intercept our enemy's scouts. Unfortunately the scouts had back up with them. There were ten men in total," he said.
Trevillle's blue eyes darkened at the mention of Marchand and the poor tactic he had employed. Sending three men into the unknown and unsupported was foolish and reckless. "Were you the only one to survive?" Treville asked.
"My brothers in arms did not make it. I was unable to bury them, but I blessed their bodies before I had to leave," said Aramis, his dark eyes filling with remorse.
Treville's eyes narrowed. Who was this young man who clearly had a knack for survival, and a strong sense of honour, even if he seemed a bit reckless with his own life.
"Please sir, I need to report to General Marchand. The scouts are dead, but the rest of the battalion is only a few leagues out. They could be here by nightfall."
Treville's eyebrows skyrocketed at this information. "How do you know this?" Treville asked.
"They were speaking Spanish," the boy said simply.
"Who are you?" Treville asked incredulously.
"Aramis," he said, removing his hat and bowing gracefully to the Captain. Or it would have been graceful if the momentum had not carried the boy too far where he collapsed at the Captain's feet and did not move again. Treville dropped to the ground and turning Aramis over he saw the purple stain on the sash at his side had grown considerably in the span of their conversation. Close up, Treville could see how young the boy actually was. Signs of exhaustion were written all over the young face; blood was matted in his dark curls. Treville called for the medic. His shout roused the boy slightly.
"'S okay Captain…'m fine…" he stammered before passing out again.
When Aramis came to, he found himself in a cot in what appeared to be a command tent. Treville was stooping over a map unfolded on a table.
"How long have I been unconscious? I need to report back…" Aramis swung his legs over the side of the cot and was immediately overtaken by dizziness. He dropped his head between his knees and fought the urge to vomit in the Captain's presence.
"Your information was sent to General Marchand. With it, we were able to intervene and drive back the enemy troops. You saved many lives today," said Treville, eyeing the boy as he mastered himself.
"It was my duty, Captain. But I couldn't save the others," he muttered to the ground.
Treville considered the boy for a moment before speaking again. "I have put in the request that you be transferred. Marchand has denied my request. He says he has need for you as a spy. How is it that you speak Spanish?"
"My mother…she was Spanish," he said honestly.
Treville nodded. "I never identified myself," he said next, "how did you know I was a captain?"
"Easy," said the boy, looking up with a grin. "Your men all seemed to care about you," he replied and hesitated. "That, and higher-ranking officers tend to be bigger asses," he said cheekily, eyes flashing with a sense of humour and mischief.
Treville washed his hand down his face to stifle a laugh. "Who was this man?" he thought.
"I should report back for duty," Aramis said, rising to his feet. Treville nodded. As Aramis saluted and made to exit the tent, Treville called out to the boy.
"Aramis," he said, looking over the still pale, but standing and determined young man. "Be careful of Marchand. His decisions of late have not been the most strategic. Do not let him throw your life away."
"Yes sir," Aramis said knowingly. "But I'm a solider sir, and I must complete whatever duty is assigned to me. I have no right to act as though my life is more valuable than any other soldier's."
Treville nodded. "I understand. When this is all over, I want you to find me. I have just received new instructions from Paris. I think I could use a man like you. Are you any good with a pistol or musket?"
Aramis grinned. "Oh, I'm all right with those things. If I survive this, I promise I'll find you, Captain….?"
"Treville," he replied, and with a nod, the young man settled his hat once more on his dark curls and exited the tent.
oOo
Aramis smiled at the memory of his meeting with Treville. He looked over at the man who had been made his recent mission and raising his glass of wine to him, he downed its contents. It was quite early to be drinking Aramis knew, but he also knew how depleted the rations were, and there was no telling when he might next get a taste of wine out here at their camp.
"If ever," he thought morosely and he scanned what could be visible of the battlefield. Thoughts like these were certain to get him killed, countered Aramis in his inner dialogue.
Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his dark brown curls and settled his hat on top of them.
"Keep him alive," Treville's words repeated in his head. If the Captain thought there was something to this quiet man sitting on the edge of battle, then Aramis would do all he could to fulfill Treville's request and keep him alive.
"Right," said Aramis out loud, disrupting the quiet of the steel grey dawn. "First things first. Breakfast."
Strapping his harquebus to his belt and passing Athos one of the other muskets, Aramis gave the man a cheerful grin and a wink and said, "I do so hope there's porridge. I believe that yesterday's is still sticking with me." He smirked at Athos' wide eyes and led him towards the cooking fire where what would pass for their breakfast was being prepared.
oOo