I do not own the characters in this story, Alexandre Dumas does. Unless copyright has expired... I think it might have, you know? But that still doesn't mean I own'em. Savvy?
He is standing in a courtroom. He has been stripped of his rapier and he feels oddly vulnerable without it. Cold metal chains force him, by sheer weight, to keep his hands to his sides. A shiver shakes his body. There is whispering all around him.
Suddenly the room goes silent. Aramis looks up slowly, dreading what he might see. A man is entering the room. He is dressed in jet black robes long enough to sweep the floor. Deep scores speaking of difficulties and suffering line his thin face and there is no compassion in his steel grey eyes. The man takes a seat behind a high bench of shining ebony.
A hard shove forces Aramis down on his knees.
"Show respect for the Judge, you fool", a voice wheezes in his ear. Obediently Aramis bows his head.
"You are here today", the judge begins with a voice as cold as his eyes, "to answer for your sins."
Aramis is quiet, there is nothing to say. He glances up at the judge through his eyelashes and cannot fail to see the look of contempt on the old man's face. Aramis quickly lowers his eyes again.
"What have you to say in your defence?" the judge asks.
"Nothing, Your Honour", Aramis replies in a silent and somewhat unsteady voice.
"Very well", the judge replies with a sneer. He turns to the guards. "Bring in the prisoners."
A delighted whispering sears through the audience as four large guards leave the room. Aramis gulps.
The guards enter once again and this time they are bringing with them two men. With a gasp Aramis recognizes them as Athos and Porthos. Their clothing is torn and both of them sport bruises and cuts. Athos smiles weakly at Aramis who has to fight the sudden urge to cry.
Both men are thrown down on the floor in front of the judge and they both scramble to get up, only to be shoved down again.
"Do you know why you are here?" the judge asks them, still without any emotion daring to enter his monotone voice.
"No, Sir", Athos replies, and Aramis feels a wave of admiration wash over him at the steadiness of the older man's weak voice.
"I shall tell you then", the judge says, and even though he himself displays no emotion it is obvious that the crowd take delight in what he is saying. "You are here to answer for your friend's sin."
Athos and Porthos direct their gazes at Aramis and he feels himself shrinking under their stern disapproval.
"Sir, I do not see how we can answer for his deeds, for even though I would do anything from him I cannot take the guilt which rightfully belongs solely to him."
It is Athos who delivers this short speech and Aramis feels his face burn with shame as his sinfulness is pointed out to him by the man he respects the most in the whole world.
"It is simple", the judge says, "His sins must be washed away with blood and one sole life will not be enough to rid his soul of his guilt."
"Please Sir!" Aramis cries out in desperation. "Please do not do this. I shall live with the guilt, I shall face eternal condemnation; just spare the lives of my friends!"
The judge looks upon him with a slight hint of pity.
"The decision has already been made. They must die."
Aramis throws himself at the judge in a flurry of despair. The chains bite into his wrists and he gets no longer than a few feet. Ignoring the pain of metal searing his unprotected flesh he continues struggling, not stopping evens as the chains around his wrists draw blood.
"Seize him!" the judge orders and two strong men grab Aramis from behind and hold him down. "Proceed with the execution."
A block of granite is brought forth and is placed on the floor in front of Aramis. An executioner enters the room through a door. His face is covered by a black mask and his face is un-readable. In his hand he carries an axe. Aramis yells at him, beyond coherent speech.
The guards holding Athos and Porthos down yank them to their feet and drag them over to the block. Accompanied by no sound except Aramis increasingly desperate shouts Porthos is shoved down on his knees and he leans over the granite block, awaiting the lethal blow with as much dignity as possible. The axe cleaves the air and after less than a moment it meets the stone with a loud thud. Porthos' head rolls away.
Aramis throat is as sore as it has ever been by this point but he cannot bring himself to stop shouting. Tears have begun to trail down his cheeks without him noticing and if it was not for the guards holding him in place he would have fallen to the floor in a helpless heap.
Athos does not need a shove to kneel, he does so on his own, and with a final glance at Aramis he bends over the stone block. The axe flies through the air once more and Aramis finds himself watching in despair as Athos' once so noble head hits the hard floor with a thud. His cries of utter anguish fill the room and by now he is sobbing helplessly. He is aware of nothing but his own cries and the strong hands gripping his shoulders...
"Aramis!" the familiar voice of Athos called out and he felt himself being shaken gently by the hands gripping him. "Aramis!"
He was shaken once again, but in spite of the roughness of the shake he did not open his eyes, simple continued to sob.
"Aramis!" it was said with more force this time and was shortly followed by a slap to his face. It wasn't a hard slap, certainly a lot softer than Athos was capable of, but it stung. "Aramis, look at me, now!"
It was clearly an order and Aramis obeyed, succumbing to habit and the force of Athos' voice. Through the veil of tears clouding his vision Aramis could make out Athos' concerned face. He could still not bring himself to stop sobbing. Athos sighed. He pulled Aramis into a tight embrace, allowing the younger man to sob into his chest. They stood thusly for over a minute, nothing breaking the heavy silence except Aramis' sobs. Athos presence was comforting even though he did not speak and Aramis felt himself slowly relaxing into the man's hold.
Soon his sobs had receded into nothing more than calm crying and he drew back from Athos, embarrassed over his behaviour. He swallowed a few times, trying to regain his composure enough to speak and then looked up at Athos. The older man was looking at him with a curious expression on his face.
"Please accept my apologies", Aramis mumbled, "I do not know what came over me."
"I do", Athos replied, startling Aramis with his bluntness. "They call it a nightmare."
Aramis blushed. He hated Athos at times like these; Aramis was not a bad liar but he had yet to successfully lie to Athos.
"'Twas nothing", he said, trying to shrug it off.
"Aramis, I know you. You do not lose control over 'nothing'."
"Athos... Please. I do not want to talk about it."
Athos was silent for a while, looking straight at Aramis with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Will you be able to sleep?"
Aramis shrugged, becoming increasingly embarrassed under Athos' close scrutiny. He flinched as Athos took a step toward him but forced himself not to back away. Surprisingly gently Athos raised a hand to Aramis' face and softly smoothed a stray lock of hair out of his face.
"Do you not understand that it pains me to see you like this?" he asked quietly. Tears once again threatened to escape Aramis' eyes and he blinked several times to make them disappear.
"I am sorry", he said, trying to keep from sobbing. "I am sorry..."
For the second time that night Athos embraced the younger musketeer, holding him close to his body and stroking his dishevelled hair.
"There is nothing to forgive, Aramis", he mumbled. "Just tell me what is wrong."
"You died!" Aramis cried. "You and Porthos, you died!"
"'Twas just a dream."
"But it was so real!"
"That may be, but I am here now, am I not?" Athos asked calmly, infuriatingly reasonable if it had not been for the comfort his soft words brought. "As for Porthos, he is just downstairs gambling away this month's wage."
"It is my fault", Aramis whispered, seemingly oblivious to what Athos just had said.
"What is your fault?"
"That you died. The guilt is mine..."
"We did not die, Aramis. We live, both me and Porthos."
"I-I know!", Aramis more or less yelled, "But you died because of me!"
"Listen to me!" Athos ordered and grabbed Aramis by the chin, forcing him to look into Athos' eyes, "We. Did. Not. Die."
"I saw your head on the floor!" Aramis shouted, in hysterics by now. "You told me the guilt was mine to bear!"
"It was a dream, you fool!"
"But it could happen! Damn it all, it could happen! And it would be my fault..."
Aramis started sobbing again, putting his arms around himself as if attempting to shut out the world. As Athos reached out a hand toward him he pulled away, shying away from the touch.
"I am sorry I snapped at you, Aramis. That was un-warranted."
"'Tis fine", Aramis mumbled automatically. Disappointedly Athos noticed how he was slowly composing himself, drawing himself into the shell he always hid behind. The moment of vulnerability had been far too short in Athos' opinion.
"Just tell me one thing", he demanded. "Why do you persist in thinking it was your fault?"
"It is silly", Aramis replied, already successfully having rid his countenance of any signs of emotion. Athos cursed himself for having let his irritation get the better of him and snap at the younger man.
"Continue", he ordered.
"Well, in the dream, I was on trial", Aramis began and the slight flush creeping up his face did not go unnoticed by Athos. "They brought you and Porthos in and I was told that you would be executed."
Aramis paused and Athos patiently waited for him to continue. He did not.
"And..?" he prompted gently.
"And what?" Aramis snapped in reply.
"Elaborate", Athos explained. "Why were you on trial in the first place? And why were Porthos and I executed?"
"I was on trial", the now very un-comfortable Aramis replied, "to answer for my sins."
Athos raised an eyebrow. The young musketeer was far from a saint and he was more than occasionally involved with various mistresses, not even mentioning the numerous duels he managed to get into. Athos had always found it paradoxical how the man could devote himself to religion so much and yet feel no qualms at seducing every other woman he met and killing in cold blood. Perhaps the answer was as simple as that he did.
He took a step toward Aramis and when he did not shy away Athos put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.
"What about Porthos and me? Why were we executed?"
Aramis lowered his gaze as if ashamed and Athos experienced a pang of guilt. He felt no pleasure in grinding out the information from his friend but he refused to let the man move behind his cold mask and stay there, not allowing anyone in or anything out. And that was what Aramis would do, he was sure of that. The younger man was immensely intelligent, more so than Athos himself, but he would, at the slightest provocation, bury himself in his own feelings and thoughts, shutting all comfort and solace out in an almost self destructive way. Normally Athos and Porthos would together pull him out of his dark brooding with playfulness and camaraderie but this time Athos intended to get to the bottom of the issue.
"Well?" he prompted.
"Apparently", Aramis began, trying to sound like his usual detached self but not succeeding very well, "my own life was not enough to cleanse away the guilt and the court decided that you had to die as well..."
Athos stared at Aramis in disbelief. The things the young man's suffering mind could come up with were astonishing. Impulsively he pulled him into a tight embrace, completely ignoring Aramis' rather feeble resistance. After a few seconds Aramis stopped resisting at all and leaned in towards Athos and began sobbing silently. Athos courteously pretended he did not notice the other man's repeated loss of control.
"I have always told you that your obsession with sin is un-healthy", he said jokingly. "Besides, even if I hate to argue with a future priest, guilt is not washed away by blood."
"Jesus died to cleanse us all of sin", Aramis replied, his voice muffled as he was still leaning against Athos' chest.
"I am not Jesus", Athos replied. "And if he has already died for your sins there is no reason for anyone else to do so, is there?"
"You are a heathen, Athos", Aramis mumbled in reply. "We must repent..."
He sounded as if he was about to begin a lecture but Athos interrupted him with a soft slap to the back of his head.
"Only when we have sinned", he said.
"I have sinned, Athos."
"So have I. Much more than you, I should think. You need to forgive yourself, Aramis."
The last part was said very gently and Aramis found he had no good reply. He sighed. It was his typical luck; that he, a student of theology and a future priest, would lose an argument about sin to a cynical musketeer who was as religious as a dog. He did not really mind, though. Athos could be persuasive when he wanted to and Aramis wanted to forgive himself.
"I will try", he promised. Then, after a moment's silence, he added. "This is a most peculiar position to have a discussion in."
"There are stranger", Athos replied enigmatically, but Aramis could sense his smile. "But you are right. You need to get to bed."
"Do not patronize me", Aramis warned, only half jokingly.
"Or else, young one?" Athos teased.
"I shall be obliged to challenge you."
"One day, Aramis", Athos replied laughingly, "one day you might just be able to beat me."
"Really?" Aramis challenged, "This day, I should say, I might be able to beat. Care to take it outside?"
"I would love to, boy, but you are forgetting that you were just going to bed."
"Athos..." Aramis growled.
"Very well", Athos conceded. "I shan't 'patronize' you. But you are going to bed."
"Do I suddenly have a bedtime?"
Athos just smiled in reply. He gestured to the bed with his head and Aramis sat down compliantly.
"Grimaud!" Athos shouted and after only the barest moment his servant appeared.
"Water", Athos ordered and the man disappeared with a bow. He returned seconds later with a water basin and a clean towel. It was a mystery to everyone but Athos and Grimaud how they managed to understand each other so perfectly, but Aramis was too tired to be amazed and simply allowed Grimaud to wash his face and then rub it dry. When it was done Athos ordered the servant away with a flick of the wrist.
Aramis leaned back contently in the bed and yawned as the soft mattress began to affect him.
"Sleep now", Athos said. Aramis nodded in reply and rolled over on his side, his eyes already closed. Soon he was breathing calmly and evenly, obviously asleep. Athos smiled down at him. He stood there for a while, watching the other man sleep. Then he sighed and went over to the small table by the window. He poured himself a glass of wine and downed it in one gulp. He poured another glass. Tonight he would drink himself to sleep.
Fin
A/N: This was written due to the sudden revival of my interest in "The Three Musketeers". I have always loved Athos and Aramis, both are great characters, and to tell you the truth d'Artagnan annoys me a little...
Anyways, thank you for reading and please leave a review. They make me happy.