"I'm glad you were in Douai."
"Hmm?" Aramis voiced his confusion in the form of a tired hum.
"While you were gone the Spanish sent a few raiding parties across the border, and d'Artagnan and I went to a village one of the groups seemed to be headed toward. We were delayed by recent snowfall, and by the time we got there, we were too late. The Spanish had already arrived, but the townspeople ambushed 'em…. I'm glad you weren't there."
Porthos cleared his throat and prayed Aramis understood what he couldn't bring himself to say. The Spanish didn't stand a chance. D'Artagnan and I found the bodies left to stain the snow that haunting shade of crimson, and I was so relieved that you were spared even if it was only because you'd forced yourself into exile.
Aramis stared at the ceiling and heard every word Porthos left unspoken.
It was not as though Aramis could not handle the sight of bodies in the snow; he'd seen many since the massacre. But Porthos knew that coming upon such scenes, ones that were near perfect imitations of that night in Savoy, could still send Aramis into those dark recesses of his mind where he'd worked to lock his most traumatic memories away. If Porthos was glad Aramis wasn't there, then it must have been a truly horrific sight.
Aramis canted his head and studied Porthos for a several seconds before asking, "Are you alright?" When his friend only lifted an eyebrow in question, Aramis elaborated. "Seeing such things is difficult for any man to bear, even for seasoned soldiers like you and I."
"I dreamed about it once or twice, but…mostly I just wonder about their families. No doubt they had wives, children, maybe a mistress or three. They were someone's sons, brothers, fathers. Will anyone tell their families or will they join the long list of soldiers who marched off to war and were never heard from again? Did they think their cause just? Did they even know why we're fighting each other?" Porthos massaged the stiff muscles of his neck as he attempted to corral his thoughts. "War is a waste of good men," he concluded.
"It certainly is," Aramis agreed. "If only men of power would learn to see it as such."
A/N: The line and the resulting title come from Poldark wherein Ross is asked about the war and he responds, "As any war, ma'am, a waste of good men". However the fic itself was not inspired by the quote; it merely worked its way in.