First Musketeers story. English is not my frst language, sorry about that! Hope you enjoy!


Porthos threw Aramis an disdainful look.

'You know what, I'm done with you.'

D'artagnan felt his chest tighten when he heard those word spoken.
'Porthos, please.' He pleaded.

Porthos ignored him and let his eyes linger a little longer on the seemingly impassive face of the one he used to call his closest friend before he turned around and left.

Aramis clenched his fist and watched Porthos leave the garrison. As soon as Porthos was out of sight, he turned around and headed towards his chambers.

D'artagnan watched Porthos leave and looked back to see Aramis enter his chambers upstairs. He moved one of his hands through his hair as he sighed. With all the time he had spent with musketeers, he had never seen Porthos and Aramis at odd with each other. At least not to this degree. To see them like this was, well.. unpleasant would be an understatement. What he hadn't realized though, was that this was quite serious and he only realized that when he saw Aramis coming back down the stairs. With a bag over his shoulder.

It took D'artagnan a moment to understand what that might implicate. And as Aramis strolled passed, he called after him.
'Aramis.'

When no answer came and Aramis kept going he understood he was being ignored.
'Aramis!' He tried a bit louder.

Aramis kept walking.

D'artagnan looked back up to the balcony of captain quarters where Athos had watched everything unfold. Athos stood with an unreadable face, one hand on the railing and one arm in a sling.

After D'artagnan pleas with Porthos and then Aramis fell on deaf ears, he hoped Athos would listen.

'Athos.'

Athos' eyes still lay on the retreating back of Aramis. As soon as his eyes could no longer follow him, Athos silently turned around and headed into the captain quarters.

D'artagnan had always known which way was home and was rarely in need of direction.
But as his home was scattered and not knowing if it could be fixed, his direction was off. And for the first time in a very long time, he felt truly lost.


Before

It had been a very long time since he was last visited by the visions and insomnia invoking nightmares, which made him relive some parts of his memories rather left forgotten on that god awful day. But he still carried the scars. Although the wounds to his mind had healed over, they still had the ability to call upon his insecurities and fears.

On a day of no consequence those scars had begun to itch. It was a snowy winters day. He felt an unease that had sunk into his mind and body that he could not shake off. It was not something he was unfamiliar with. It had happened to him sometimes over the past few years, more frequently the years closer to the trauma. These days it was quite rare.

But on that day something had triggered his unease and once that unease had settled in his bones it was almost impossible to get it out. It almost certainly was the snow and the cold combined with the dense forest they've been traveling through. It reminded him immensely the place he tried his hardest to forget.

Aramis had not told the others yet about that unsettling feeling for he didn't want them to worry about his state of mind. He had dealt with this before and preferably would do it alone again.

The four of them were traveling back to Paris after a mission to Reims. Aramis and his brothers were on their way home from delivering and retrieving documents pertaining information about a future coronation of the Dauphin. This was their second day back on the road since they had left Reims. The cold and the snow made it near impossible to travel at a decent speedsince they ahd to avoid the main roads.

'We make camp there.' Athos nodded his head towards a shallow cave in the distance. It would provide them with enough shelter from the snow and wind for the night.

The group agreed in silence. They rode on in a single file with Athos leading and D'artagnan closing.
After spending countless nights on the road together, there was no need to assign tasks.
D'artagnan looked after the horses, Aramis started a fire in the entrance to the cave while Porthos and Athos gathered more wood. Enough to keep the fire going through the night.
Though there wouldn't be any warm food for them that night, but Aramis made sure they at least had a warm drink. Some hot water with honey. It wasn't much but he knew it was treat to have on the road.
When they settled down and enjoyed their warm drink with bread and cheese Porthos broke the gloomy silence.

'Alright, I know were all cold and miserable but that doesn't mean our spirits have to be. You lot act like you've never been on the road in the snow.'

'You lot?,' D'artagnan questioned, 'I haven't heard you bursting into song today.'

'Though you have the voice of a bard my friend, I rather you didn't.' Athos' monotonous voice directed at Porthos.

This made D'artagnan raise his eyebrow and Porthos as well.
'I mean to offence my friend, but your voice could attract some unwanted attention. Mainly stags defending their territory.'
Porthos' laugh warmed the bones of his friends.

'We don't all have the glorious trained voice like a comte, my dear Porthos, one that would only attract beautiful women.' Armis cut in and made Athos smile.

'God, what I wouldn't give for a nice warm bed, preferably with a willing warm body of a beauty waiting for me.' Aramis mused to no one in particular.

'You and me both.' They looked at D'artagnan and understood who he meant.

After that Aramis grew quiet and tunes out his brothers voices. It all became a lulling background noise. He grew melancholy and felt a gloominess settle over him. The feeling he felt before settles over him telfold. He wasn't prepared to lose his sense just yet. Sleep would only welcome that feeling.

'I'll keep first watch.' Aramis announced.

Athos nodded at him while he drank the remainder of his honey and water mix.

'Fine by me.' Porthos pulled himself to his feet and gave Aramis a pat on the shoulder. He went over to his saddle bags, pulled out his bedroll and settled them inside the cave as a makeshift bed. After a few moments D'artagnan and Athos followed his lead and before long had settles down as well.

Aramis had offered to take the first watch for he knew that sleep wouldn't come for him this night. He had no intention of waking one of his brothers for the next watch. He sat with his back to the fire facing away from the cave and toward the forest stretched before him. This way his eyes we're adjusted to the dark without being tainted by the light emitted from the fire.
His unease had grown too much but so far had gone unnoticed by his brothers for which he was glad.

A few hours had passed.
From what he could see the sky was still dark and releasing countless snowflakes. Aramis had cleaned his gun twice, loaded it and would have got up to grab D'artagnans pistol were he not afraid of waking him. He wanted, no, needed something to keep his mind and hand busy. Otherwise his mind might start to wander to places he did not want to visit.

When he sat as still as he did watching the trees and the sky before him, he felt the cold creeping in. After a few hours, the fire behind his back was no longer sufficient enough to drive it away. He had wanted to place more wood on the fire but something had kept him seated. Thus the cold was the final push that made his mind, unwillingly, start to wander back to that day. He thought he was over it. Apparently he was wrong.

When looking out among the trees; he could almost imagine the small tents from Savoy crowding the open spaces. He could almost see the wind playing with the tent flaps. He could almost see dark cloaked figures entering the tents. He could almost hear the screams coming from the tents.
He could see the snow turning red. He could feel wetness on his hands.

Aramis looked down at his hands which rested in his lap and saw droplets of red falling on them. Blood. .
He felt his hand move of its own accord and wipe at the scar on his scalp. It came back bloodied.
Panic started to rise in his stomach. He was there. He was back in the place which had haunted his nightmares for many years.

There was creaking in the snow; it made him look back up. The tents were gone, they were replaced with bodies all wearing the same uniform. His uniform.
Aramis could barely contain a sob as he took in the sight before him. His mind was making him believe things that weren't real, letting him see thing that weren't there. Though he kept on telling himself that it wasn't real, he knew it was a losing battle. What he saw before him evoked every emotion he associated with that day. Mainly guilt and sorrow.

He felt another sob rake his body. 'No…' Aramis softly wailed.
His eyes glanced at every face he could see. They had been friends and always brothers in arms. Now all those faces were frozen in death. The smell of rot came to him and the faces changed from recognizable to decaying corpses where crows had feasted upon. No longer in control of himself, Aramis was terrified and unable to stop this torture. Their eyeless, rotting faces slowly turned toward him and sought him out. They called out to him, asking for help, asking him why he left them, asking him to join them.

Dark cloaked figures separated from the trees and walked through the corpses towards him. Aramis just sat and stared at them coming closer awaiting the torture they would bring.
The figure in the middle striding towards him, raised his arm and pointed a gun.
There was a loud bang.
Something happened to his upper right arm. Aramis turned his gaze towards his arm and saw blood creeping out of the hole in his thick leather coat. Then he felt pain.

Slowly but surely the pain took him out of his reverie, took him away from the forests of Savoy, back to the forests neat Paris. He had no idea how much time had passed and had not seen nor heard them getting up; his brothers were already engaged in combat. Aramis tried to get up quickly and draw his pistol when another gun went off. He looked to his right and saw Athos wavering and falling on a knee. The opponent Athos had been fighting tried to take advantage of this distraction and made to drive his sword through Athos' back. Aramis quickly fired and hit the man in his neck, taking him out.
Aramis hurried towards Athos, sword in hand. Making sure to defend the wounded man from the danger he found him in.

While blocking an attack Aramis quickly scanned the area and counted their attackers. As far as he could see there were 5 attackers left. One with D'artagnan, two with Porthos, and the other two in front of him. He put up his sword, blocking another attack from the nearest opponents and kicked him in the chest making him stumble and fall to the ground. Aramis whirled around and parried a blow from the one left standing. He deftly unsheathed his main gauche and plunged it in the man stomach, twisting it for good measure. Figuring the remaining opponent would've gotten up by now, Aramis turned his attention back on him. Before he was prepared, his opponents sword nicked his side tearing through the leather and slicing his skin open. Aramis gritted his teeth but did not falter. The only thing on his mind at that moment was protecting Athos.

He was semi aware that the fighting behind him had stopped but there was no time to think about his brothers. All his focus was on the man in front of him. The man looked frightened. He nervously took a step backwards but quickly lunged forward trying to stab Aramis.
Aramis easily blocked the attack and stepped sideways driving his dagger into the man's neck.

The sound of footsteps brought him back to the present. His sword was ready to take on his next opponent until he realized it was Porthos who was making his way over to him. D'artagnan wiped his sword on one of the dead man pants and made sure all their attackers were dead.
Athos had managed to get himself upright and clutched at his shoulder where his coat was stained red.

From a moment Aramis lost himself again when he saw Athos covered in blood sitting in the snow. He felt the same overwhelming sensation he had had before this fight had broken out. Fear and sorrow had stopped him from his normal instincts. He could hear the crows cawing and flapping their wings.

A hand on his painful arm pulled him back and drove the crows away.
He blinked once. He blinked twice.
And Porthos came into focus.
'Aramis,' He spoke softly 'are you with me?'