A/N I can't seem to stop writing fics about the Savoy massacre, there will be a part two to this story so keep an eye out. I will update 'Leaving is never an option among friends' but this idea wouldn't leave me alone and just had to be written!
"A troop of Musketeers can't just disappear" commented Athos.
"Cornay is one of the finest soldiers I ever met" stressed Porthos, "There has to be a good reason!"
Aramis frowned, "Or a bad one."
The three of them mounted their horses and began the ride back to Paris. While Porthos and Athos were each lost in their thoughts thinking of all the reasons what could have happened to loyal Captain Cornay. Aramis, on the other hand, was trying to not get lost in his thoughts. From the moment he had replied to Porthos' statement he felt the cold hand of Savoy creeping up on him. For Porthos and Athos it was simple, Cornay would not abandon his duty, it was not a question to them. It wasn't for Aramis either, but he knew, from first-hand experience, that it did not matter how loyal a solider was. Something could always go wrong that could lead to a troop of Musketeers disappearing.
The situation was so similar to the nightmare he had survived five years ago, he couldn't think about anything else. Another troop of Musketeers had suffered when snow covered the land. He used to love the snow. Now it was only a reminder of that terrible night, and a herald of death. For some unknown reason Aramis knew they would not find Cornay or his troop alive.
They stopped at an inn to allow their horses some time to rest. While Athos went to buy a bottle of wine, Aramis stared at his hands forgetting Porthos sat across from him. The joyful sounds in the inn began to fade away into the dying moans of his friends from five years ago. The sharp sound of a chair scraping back became the ring of metal as sword clashed with sword. He flinched when from the corner of his eye he spotted someone walking past him, while he had been trying to hide his thoughts from his friends. His eyes flickered over to Porthos and he could see that his friend had noticed his strange behaviour.
"Aramis? What's wrong?" asked Porthos, his eyes looking all around them. Looking for something that could be the cause for setting Aramis on edge.
"Nothing" he shrugged, not meeting Porthos' gaze.
Porthos frowned, "Whatever it is. It is not nothing."
"I'm fine Porthos" sighed Aramis, they already had enough to worry about in finding out what happened to Cornay. He didn't need Porthos (and subsequently Athos) worrying about him and his memories of Savoy.
"Aramis" warned Porthos as he leaned closer from across the table.
Aramis leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, just as Athos dropped back into his chair and looked between his friends. "Is everything alight?"
"Fine" interjected Aramis cutting over Porthos,
Porthos nodded at Athos, but he shot Aramis a look which clearly said they would be finishing their conversation.
Aramis was nervous when the garrison came into sight. He knew as soon as they arrived; Athos would go and report to Treville, leaving Porthos the perfect opportunity to corner him and continue the conversation from the inn. Something he dreaded with every fibre of his being.
However, Aramis needn't have worried. For within seconds of their arrival a young man (more like a boy) from Gascony arrived and commanded Athos to fight a duel. He was impressed with the boy. Athos could look very intimidating to those who did not know him well and the boy showed a lot of spirit challenging Athos to a duel. It entertained him greatly and it took his mind off Savoy. Until he heard the boy mention that as his father died he said Athos' name. Then he only felt sorry for the boy. It was never easy to lose those you cared about. Especially when it happened in front of you.
While he was scared and worried about Athos' execution scheduled for dawn the next morning, it did mean Porthos was too preoccupied to question him about what he had been thinking about after the monastery.
Until they went to the inn where the boy, d'Artangan's father had been killed and looked at the attacker d'Artangan had shot. When he stated that the second bullet hole could only have come from Cornay's troop being attacked. He felt Porthos' eyes on him, his palms grew sweaty and his heart beat quickened. It was too similar to five years ago, far too familiar and he began to wonder. Did they suffer much? Were their deaths quick? Or, like so many in Savoy, did they fight back only to be painfully cut down?
And then it happened.
They found Cornay and his troop dead in a snow covered forest. The crows squawked and flapped their wings, as he reached out to Cornay with a shaky hand. He closed his eyes momentarily in silent pain when he confirmed it was Cornay they had found. The troop's skin had a blue tinge to it and they were frozen to the touch. They looked exactly how his friends from five years ago looked when Porthos had taken him from the site of the massacre. He didn't remember much after Marsac had left him, but he clearly remembered how his friends had looked as they laid stiff and rigid unmoving in the snow.
What made things worse was that Cornay's troop had obviously been tasked with looking after something important, because there were twenty-two men in the troop. The exact same number of men that had entered the forest on the border with Savoy. Aramis shivered, but it was not from the cold. He stared out at the forest in front of him and without even trying he could see the men from the troop he had been a part of lying dead in front of him.
He rose shakily to his feet and brushed the snow off his cloak. He looked forlornly at Cornay and his men, he hated it but they had to leave them in the forest for the crows to peck at them. At least until they reported back to Treville. He turned and found Porthos watching him, he brushed past his friend and followed d'Artangan to the horses. He knew Porthos would try and talk to him, even despite searching for the men framing Athos, but Aramis was in no mood to talk. He wanted to find the men responsible for Cornay's and his men's deaths. He hadn't got justice for his friends, but he would make sure Cornay and his men did, even if it was the last thing he did. So with new resolve he pushed Savoy out of his mind and began to come up with a plan.
Porthos watched as Aramis walked away, instead of the dull look that had taken control in his eyes since the monastery, now Aramis' eyes burned with a fire. A fire he knew meant Aramis would do everything he could to get justice for Cornay and the men of the troop. He looked down and for a moment his vision blurred with tears. As he looked out at the troop he found himself back on the border with Savoy.
His feet crunched in the snow, every way he turned there was a fallen Musketeer staring blankly up at the sky. He opened his mouth to call Aramis' name, but nothing came out. He was stunned into silence. He couldn't believe the sight in front of him, he hadn't wanted to believe Aramis had been killed; but the sight in front of him slowly began to diminish any hope he had of finding his brother alive.
Slowly he walked to the edge of the campsite, and there sat slumped against a tree was Aramis. Porthos surged towards his friend, his feet slipped not finding any grip on the frozen snow in his haste to reach his brother. His throat burned as he tried to hold back tears. He dropped to his knees beside Aramis and tears trickled down his cheeks when he saw Aramis still lived.
Gently he shook Aramis' shoulder, he gasped in shock when he felt how cold Aramis was. His brother's eyes flickered open into half slits. Despite the situation Porthos found himself smiling a little.
"I've got you Aramis" he said as he gently pulled Aramis into his arms. He carried Aramis to his horse, Aramis' head hung limply but Porthos could see him staring at the bodies of their friends. He shuffled Aramis in his arms so his brother's head rested against his shoulder, there tucked against him Porthos blocked Aramis' view of the troop. Aramis was already going to suffer nightmares, he didn't need the added memory of their frozen brothers.
Porthos shook himself out of the memory, he turned away from Cornay and watched as Aramis walked towards the horses. For weeks after the massacre Aramis had kept to himself, he said few words and seemed to be trapped in his memories of a living nightmare; whether he was awake or asleep. Porthos had no intention of letting Aramis slip back into that state. Back then it was almost as if Aramis prayed for death, Porthos had only just been able to drag Aramis back into the land of the living. There was no chance of him letting Aramis pull himself away from all human contact and fade away into death.
Suddenly, he felt anger surge up inside of him. It was bad enough Aramis had barely survived the massacre five years ago, now another troop had been slaughtered in a snow covered forest. To make matters worse, Cornay and his troop had been stripped of their uniforms. That only added to the injustice of the situation in his eyes.
It was done. Athos was saved and all was well. Except it wasn't for Aramis. Adele had gone away with the Cardinal and now he didn't have to worry about Athos he didn't have anything to take his mind off his memories of Savoy. He shut the door to his rooms quietly as he rubbed a hand across his face. From where he stood he could see the remaining snow out of his window, he shivered and then walked slowly as if in a daze to the window. He pushed it open and let the cold air breeze into the room. Ever since the massacre he had always felt the cold more keenly, but since the news of Cornay's disappearance it had been worse. His joints felt stiff and it was as if the cold itself had settled deep into his bones.
Distantly he heard the crunch of boots on snow and the ring of metal as a nearby Blacksmith made swords. He leaned his back against the wall as he clenched his eyes shut and let himself slide down the wall. He cradled his head in his hands and with his lack of energy he gave up trying to push back the horrifying memories and just let them play out before his eyes.
Night had fallen but Aramis was sat on a log looking out at the expanding forest next to the campfire. Behind him was Alfred who was on watch, they may have been on a training exercise but it never hurt to be too careful. He turned to look at Alfred to make sure he was alright, being on watch in the snow was never fun. It made you see things that aren't really there. Many times Aramis himself over the years had thought he'd seen attackers sneaking around in the dark. He was not alone. Every Musketeer in the Regiment had done so. He looked back in front of him and smiled seeing Marsac give young Francis instruction on the best way to fight with a sword in snowy conditions. Snow always played havoc in a fight, it didn't allow a soldier (or anyone else just walking down a street) enough grip to be able to stay standing without wobbling all over the place.
He tilted his head a little hearing a twig snap. It was probably just an animal but his years of experience as a soldier did not allow him to dismiss the sound. Next thing he heard was a soft thump. He turned back around to Alfred to see the young man lying on the ground with a red stain growing around him. He swiftly rose to his feet and ran to Alfred, but the young man was already dead. He would have died before he hit the ground. He turned his head again and saw black hooded figures sneak around the edge of the campsite. He knew it was not the snow playing tricks on him.
"Attack!" he hollered and he drew his sword, he cursed when he remembered he had left his pistols in his tent.
What happened next was all a blur. It was chaos and the Musketeers fought with everything they had, but they didn't have much in terms of ammunition (for those who found their pistols). It was only a training exercise so they had just enough incase bandits attacked them on the road. This was not a bandit attack. These attackers had come with the purpose to slaughter them all.
He watched with a sense of detachment as his brothers fell all around him. It didn't seem real. It couldn't be real!
Francis fell and then Aramis felt a surge of anger within him. He marched towards the attacker who killed Francis and who appeared to be the leader (his men were in a slightly spread out group around him). He knew if he got rid of the leader it would leave his men in a state of confusion, with no leader they had no orders. Ignoring all chivalry (for these attackers certainly weren't showing any) he slashed at the leader's back. The leader cried out in pain and fell forward into the snow. Aramis raised his sword to deal the final blow, but out of nowhere a hilt of a sword connected with his head. Then all he saw was darkness.
Aramis blinked open his eyes praying he had just fallen asleep by the campfire and suffered a nightmare. However, when he pulled himself to his feet he saw he was not next to the campfire, or in his tent. He felt something wrapped around his head and raising a hand to touch it he found it was a rag, he realised someone had tied it as a bandage around his head. He hoped and prayed that he had slipped on the snow and hit his head, but he wandered past a tree and stopped suddenly. In front of him were his Musketeer brothers spread out staring blankly up at the sky.
It was not a nightmare. It was real. He stared wide eyed in disbelief, it was then he saw Marsac sat among the bodies. Marsac rose stiffly to his feet and looked at Aramis with the same blank look in his eyes as their dead brothers. He could force no words out of his mouth as Marsac threw down his shoulder armour and began walking away without a backward glance.
He turned left and right and could not escape the faces of his brothers. While they were limp, he could not help but see written across their faces one accusatory statement. "Why do you still live when we do not?"
Tears stung the backs of his eyes and he stumbled back and collapsed against a tree. He curled forward with his head in his hands which rested on his knees, he mumbled the same two words in his head and aloud over and over again.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
His throat constricted and even with his eyes closed he could see their faces. His shoulders shook as he sobbed silently. He didn't have a voice, as his brothers lost their lives it was only fair he lost something in return.
The cold bit into his limbs and slowly seeped into his body, it felt as if death itself was slowly claiming his body and soul inch by freezing inch.
Warmth suddenly pushed onto his shoulders and he tried to squirm away from it, his body shook; but this time not from sobs. It was as if someone was shaking him. Shaking the life back into him.
"Aramis!"
The warmth was beginning to flood him so he tried even harder to get away from it. He deserved the cold, not the warmth. Not when his brothers who deserved warmth and life; were frozen.
"Aramis!"
He snapped open his eyes, his cheeks were wet from the tears that had been streaming down his face and his hands were clenching his sleeves. He lifted his eyes a little and found Porthos crouched in front of him staring at him worriedly.
"Aramis?" questioned Porthos, his eyes boring into Aramis'.
"It's nothing" shrugged Aramis, the best he could from where he was curled up leaning against the wall.
"Nothing?! That was not nothing!" snapped Porthos, Aramis (against his will) flinched. Porthos cringed at his sharp tone of voice and softened. "Aramis what is wrong? That wasn't nothing."
"It's fine" assured Aramis quickly, "I've dealt with it alone before. It's fine."
"What do you mean you've dealt with this alone?!" exclaimed Porthos, "That is not fine!"
Aramis shrugged again, "I never wanted to bother anyone."
"You didn't want to – Aramis we are your friends. Your brothers. You wouldn't be bothering us!" stressed Porthos, his grip tightening on Aramis' shoulders.
Porthos looked at his friend, he had to swallow back tears seeing the tears in Aramis' eyes and the ones that had fell down his cheeks. Aramis' hands still held onto his own sleeves, the grip so tight his knuckles were white. Porthos moved his hands to cover Aramis', intending to loosen Aramis' tight grip, but he gasped feeling how cold Aramis' skin was to the touch.
"You're freezing!" he cried,
Aramis looked at his hands vaguely, "Am I?"
Porthos gaped at his brother in shock, he looked up and saw the open window. He stood and shut the window with a clatter. "Why did you have the window open in this weather?"
"I'm always cold when I remember what happened, thought I might as well open the window." Murmured Aramis as he stared at his hands, "I should have fallen with them. I'm so tired. Pushing back the memories is getting to be too much. Cornay and his troop got justice, and I'm happy for them, but what about those lost five years ago?"
Porthos reached down and pulled Aramis to his feet, "Now you listen to me. Stop talking about how you should have died! I can't tell you how relieved I was when I found you alive! You have to stop believing that you deserved death back then and begin living life to the fullest!"
"How?" pleaded Aramis as he gripped his hair tightly, "I've forgotten what it was like to live before the massacre!"
"That's why you need to talk about it!" responded Porthos, "You can't keep it bottled up. One day it will burst out and it might destroy you in the process."
Aramis looked at him with sad eyes, "I can't. I've seen the look on your face when the Savoy massacre is mentioned. Knowing how it upsets you I can't tell you in detail what happened. I can't do that to you."
Porthos smiled sadly at Aramis, "You are too good of a person for your own good. You can tell me Aramis. You need to tell me. One day it will become too much and I will lose you for good, you are my brother I can't lose you." He saw Aramis try and stop his shivering and he could see how Aramis' eyes still looked a little haunted. "I promise you will get justice for the massacre five years ago."
"Please don't say that" murmured Aramis shaking his head, "It's been five years." He continued in a tired and defeated voice, "It was looked into and was determined as a Spanish attack. There won't be justice."
Porthos hated how Aramis seemed upset with the knowledge that he wouldn't get justice for his friends, but also accepted it. "Someday you will Aramis, I just know it."
Aramis nodded, Porthos guided his friend to his bed and once Aramis was settled in his bed and had fallen asleep. Porthos relaxed in the chair he sat in next to the bed and watched over his friend. Aramis always took great care of everyone he came across; stranger or Musketeer and it was about time someone looked after Aramis. Porthos was just a bit ashamed that it had taken him five years to finally begin to really help Aramis through his memories of Savoy.
If only he knew how soon justice would come knocking and how unprepared for the truth they would be.