Not the First Time
A Musketeers story by Deana
This is my entry for the February 'Fete des Mousquetaires' contest!
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Aramis stared at the white horse that stood before him. It was tall and majestic and he really, really wanted to ride it. The only problem was that it didn't like to be ridden and he'd been told that he couldn't. Aramis' ten-year-old mind didn't understand why; he'd been riding horses for a long time—or so he thought—and the horse wasn't violent, so why couldn't be try?
"Someday, son," his father had told him. "You can ride him soon, just not today."
Well, today isn't the same today as that was, Aramis thought. He smiled and headed closer to it, standing on the side of the horse trough and getting himself into the saddle.
The horse gave no reaction.
Aramis pulled the reins, trying to yank the horse away from the water. "Go, Windstorm," he said, not giving any logical thought as to how the horse had acquired such a name. "Go!" He kicked his heels into the horse's belly, and it took off.
Aramis was taken by surprise by how fast the horse went, and when he tried to slow it down, it wouldn't obey. "Stop!" he eventually shouted. "Stop!" He yanked on the reins so hard that the horse was practically looking at the sky, but it wouldn't slow its pace. "PAPA!" he shouted. "HELP!"
Suddenly, the horse abruptly slowed, enough to take Aramis by surprise and unbalance him. He fell out of the saddle and landed on the ground with a *thud*. Terrible pain spread through his arm and it took his breath away.
"Aramis!" he suddenly heard. Hands grabbed him and pulled him onto someone's lap. "Aramis? Aramis!"
Gasping for air, Aramis opened his eyes and found his father looking down at him. "You said I c-couldn't ride him then," he exclaimed. "You d-didn't say it today!"
Monsieur D'Herblay sighed. "You're right son, I didn't say it today, but I should've." He lifted his son into his arms and hurried back to the house.
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"So you see, d'Artagnan, this is not the first time I've been thrown from a horse and broken my arm…the same arm, even."
"But I made the horse throw you!"
Aramis sighed from where he lay, propped partly upright by his saddle. His left arm was splinted and wrapped, strapped to his body to prevent movement. "It was an accident."
"Accident or not, it was my fault!" d'Artagnan said.
Aramis glanced at Porthos and Athos, who he knew were both holding in anger at the situation. Even though they knew it was an accident, they were still upset that Aramis had been hurt so badly.
"Need somethin'? Porthos asked, putting a hand on Aramis' right shoulder.
Aramis sighed. Pain was spreading up and down his arm in sickening waves but he was trying not to show it, for d'Artagnan's sake. "I need d'Artagnan to stop feeling guilty."
D'Artagnan looked away, heaving a sigh of his own. "But it was so ridiculous!" he exclaimed.
"Many people are afraid of spiders," Aramis said. "You didn't expect it to drop out of the tree and land on your leg. That would've startled anyone."
"But if I hadn't been so startled and jumped off my horse, I wouldn't have kicked yours and made him rear," said d'Artagnan. "Now, because of me and a spider, you have a broken arm!"
Aramis sighed again and tightly closed his eyes, holding his breath as he tried not to wince from the pain that suddenly flared.
Porthos squeezed Aramis' shoulder in support.
Athos, on Aramis' other side, picked up a waterskin and opened it. "We cannot change what happened, we can merely learn from our mistakes."
D'Artagnan sighed again, poking the fire with a stick from where he sat. He was sure that he'd never forget the sight of Aramis flying off his horse and slamming to the hard ground.
Aramis shakily let his breath out, opening his eyes to see the waterskin in front of his face.
Athos held it to his friend's lips so he could drink. "When I was a child, I was so jealous of my brother that I pushed him down a hill. He hit his head and landed unconscious at the bottom."
The others were surprised to hear that.
Athos pulled the waterskin away when Aramis stopped drinking and replaced the cap, saying no more.
Porthos suddenly scratched his chin. "When I was younger, me and Charon were pretendin' to swordfight with sticks. I was bigger and wanted to win, so I was bein' really rough. He stumbled and I hit him on the side of the head…accidentally knocked him out too."
"See that?" Aramis said to d'Artagnan, his voice sounding a little shaky after the flare of pain. "At least I remained conscious!"
D'Artagnan looked at Aramis and gave him a little smile.
"Right," said Porthos. "Now that we gave you reasons to feel less guilty, Aramis needs to keep quiet and rest so we can get him back to Paris tomorrow."
Aramis sighed at that, knowing that he wasn't going to get much sleep while in so much pain.
"I'm so sorry, Aramis," d'Artagnan said, for possibly the nineteenth time.
"I know. I accept and you're forgiven," Aramis answered.
None of the four musketeers got much sleep that night, and it was a very painful ride for Aramis the next day. When they rode into the garrison, their captain spotted them and quickly headed over.
"What happened?!" Treville asked, at the sight of a very pale Aramis riding with Porthos.
"My horse got spooked and threw me," Aramis answered.
D'Artagnan noticed that his injured friend didn't mention his involvement.
"Spooked by what?" Treville asked.
"A spider," Aramis answered, as Porthos dismounted and carefully helped him get down. "A very-ouch!- big one. It dropped out of a tree and d'Artagnan disposed of it."
"Captain," d'Artagnan started, intending to confess.
"Now now," Aramis said, cutting him off. "No reason to be modest, d'Artagnan. Killing a spider is just as important as defending the king." He shuddered as if the insect had repulsed him, then winced as the movement jarred his broken arm.
"Get him to his room, I'll send for a doctor," said Treville.
The four musketeers obeyed, not yet realizing that two spiders had dropped out of the tree…and the second one was currently crawling up d'Artagnan's back…
THE END