Title: Echos
Pairing: Athos & d'Art & Aramis & Porthos - others thrown in
Summary: How… how can this be? He cannot be dead…
Author Note: Right, this is going to be inaccurate to some degree. I'm mainly writing this for myself because the plot bunny won't leave me the hell alone and I've been reading a lot of WHUMP lately.
Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own BBC Musketeers or them in general. But be warned my fellow followers, story is angsty and may have triggers.
Third POV - Aramis
Aramis was cold and frightened, he could hear the crows calling and fighting with the bite of the bitter wind. He stumbled forward, eyes scanning his surroundings frantically as he searched and reasoned that he was not here, not again.
Snow littered the ground throughout the cluster of trees he wished to never see in his lifetime again, cries could be heard on the wind along with the taste of blood. Why was there blood? His feet carried him forward in a stagger, heart racing inside his chest as he came across the first body, blue now tainted red with unseeing eyes.
"No, no, no, no…" He moaned as he pushed himself forward once more, falling to his knees as he took in the massacre. The denial kept tumbling from his lips as he jerked forward, hands splaying across the unmoving chest, hands tinted in blood. Not caring that battle seemed to continue around him.
"Aramis!" A voice called, cutting across the screams and howling wind. "ARAMIS!"
His eyes scanned around the carnage and landed on the man who called for his name, he couldn't recognise the voice but the uniform he wore was enough information to know who it was. "Marsac." He breathed before pitching forward.
Marsac's face swam into view before him as hands helped him to his feet. "We need to go Aramis, there is no help in saving them now."
Aramis felt his brows furrow as he turned his eyes back towards the massacre, his eyes catching the sight of one lone Musketeer fighting off three men in the middle of it all. Something at him screamed that the scene was wrong, that the figure fighting before him shouldn't be here, should be nowhere near here.
"No, help him." He pled trying to jerk away from his brother's strong hold but Marsac kept pulling him, pulling him away from his brother fighting off three assassins and failing. "HELP HIM!"
"He's dead already." Marsac sneered and it was then that Aramis had a good look at him; he was older and no longer wore the musketeer pauldron. It seemed he had lived harshly but Aramis knew this wasn't true, no Marsac was a musketeer, he wouldn't risk a brother to suffer.
You are not a musketeer… The words cracked harshly across the field or was it his head? Aramis watched in horror as the lone figure staggered back by the force of it, the blue flickering to brown as the figure tiredly tried to recover.
Why… why did those words cause the musketeer to falter? Aramis didn't understand at all, but somehow he managed to stagger away from his brother and towards the man in the circle of death, now fighting the last of his opponents.
It was there just before the first body he saw the familiar raven hair and tanned skin, a youthful face. The blue flickered once more to brown and it stayed that way, it was a blow to the gut as Aramis remembered the name to the face.
"d'Artagnan." He breathed out, his eyes widening in horror as the boy whipped his head around at the sound of his name, eyes blown wide in fear before suddenly the last opponent raised his gun.
"d'ARTANGAN!" Aramis screamed in horror as he saw the boy stagger, hand going to his chest in confusion.
Aramis pushed his legs forward, heart beating loudly in his chest as he reached his friends side. He didn't know when the young boy had wormed his way into his heart but he would not let him die here, he would not be another casualty to the massacre.
"'Mis." The boy gurgled; fresh blood spilling over his lips as he did so. The Spaniard cursed and pressed his hands down on the wound, his eyes scanning for Marsac so his brother could help him, he needed water and his gear. "'Mis."
"I'm right here d'Artagnan, hold on okay… just hold on." He begged, eyes flicking from the pale face covered in blood, grime and snow to the surroundings in looking for Marsac, only to freeze when he saw the very man who shot his little brother…. "No, why?"
Marsac stared down at him with a blank face, the gun still gripped in his hand. "He's not one of us, he will never be one of us."
"HE IS THE BETTER OF US!" Aramis screamed, memories of the days since of the Duke's arrival and all the young man bleeding out below him had done for him. The memories flickered across the nightmare, chasing away the chill and no longer were they surrounded by cold and twenty fallen brothers but in the Captain's rooms.
"'m s'rry 'mis." d'Artagnan hissed out, drawing Aramis's eyes back down to him. "m'srry."
"No, no, stay with me d'Art, stay with me…. Don't… please…" The Spaniard begged, his hands letting go of the wound and ripping strips from his tunic to staunch the blood flow once more.
D'Artagnan shook his head, eyes glassy and far away. "F'ther calling, s'rry, tired."
Bile threatened to rise in Aramis's throat at the words; his heart stuttering and tears flowing freely. He begged and begged the Gascon to not leave, to keep fighting and help would be here soon, he lifted his eyes for a second to yell for help only to snap his head back down when the boy went limp in his arms.
Blank eyes stared back at him.
"NO!" Aramis yelled as he shot up painfully from his nightmare, his clothes clinging to his drenched skin.
It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare…. He repeated as he shot to his feet and put on his boots, he needed to see d'Artagnan and needed to see the boy now…. Just to reassure himself that the echoes of his nightmare was not real no matter how real it felt and that he was still alive.
Aramis pushed his feet quickly and out through the gates of the Garrison into the cold night air, he needed to get to d'Artagnan, he needed to get to the Bonacieux home immediately. By the time he reached the home, the house was dark and his breathes were harsh, he didn't bother to knock as he picked the lock on the door and strode in and up towards the room he knew d'Artagnan would be.
At seeing the boy sound asleep on the bed Aramis let body collapse beside the bed and the sob that had been building in his chest escape.
"'mis?" d'Artagnan asked confused and half asleep. He had woken to the sound of someone entering his room and as he was about to pull out his dagger, he saw the familiar curls of his friend and then the heart wrenching sobs. "Aramis, what's wrong?"
The second d'Artagnan placed his hand upon Aramis's shoulder for comfort, the young Gascon found himself in a very tight embrace by his friend. He could not understand the Spanish that escaped Aramis's lips or why he was crying but right now that didn't matter.
What mattered to d'Artagnan was the fact that his friend had to kill someone he cared for yesterday and needed comfort. So pushing away his surprise and confusion, he shifted in the man's arms and pulled him closer, like how his maman would do when he was upset.
"You're alive." Aramis breathed out once he settled down and the words caused d'Art to jerk in surprise.
"Of course I am Aramis, I'm fine, what happened?" He asked slowly as he pulled back enough to see his friends face in the moonlight. Aramis looked broken, his eyes puffy and red, deep bags resting under them.
"I was back in Savoy and… it wasn't… you were there and Mar… he killed you…. you died and I…." The Spaniard choked off, unable to say the words anymore and this time d'Artagnan shifted enough to lay his friend down in his bed to settle beside him. But he knew now why Aramis came to him and not the others.
"Shh, it's okay, I am here." He whispered, remembering words of comfort from long ago when he suffered the terrible dreams after his brother died. "Rest Aramis, I will be here when you wake."
"Promise?" Was the muffled question.
"I promise." He replied and pulled his friend closer, he would not be able to go back to sleep tonight, no, for now it was his turn to give comfort and to look after Aramis.
It's what any brother would do.
Author Note: I will be doing the others but this plot took me and it would not let go! They will either be during an episode or after... who knows what plot will take me next but the next one will either be Treville or Porthos.