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Immortal
A Musketeers story by Deana
My entry in the Fete des Mousquetaires contest for April-May!

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Musketeers are men of honor. But there was no honor, not in this, Porthos thought, as he watched the distressed expression on Aramis' face while they quietly rode through the countryside. It was obvious who he had his mind on: Marsac, who had lost all honor that he could've ever claimed to have after leaving Aramis to die in the woods of Savoy. "How about we stop here?" Porthos said.

"It's as good a place as any," Athos answered.

Aramis, riding between them, gave no answer.

"Aramis?"

With a surprised blink, Aramis looked up. "Yes?"

"We're stoppin'," Porthos told him, frowning at the sight of his friend's pale face.

Aramis looked around and found that they'd arrived at the bank of a river. He looked momentarily confused before he nodded and dismounted.

Athos and Porthos shared a glance, all too aware that Aramis had barely been aware of his surroundings all day. It was obvious that he was deep in thought on the massacre that had happened a few months prior. He'd finally recovered physically, but he still had bad days where he was plagued by depression.

Minutes later, their horses were unsaddled. Porthos took their waterskins to the river to refill them while Athos started a fire.

Aramis wasn't given any tasks, as the others hoped that he would observe the delightful scenery; something that he used to revel in before the deadly incident that had stolen his joy. Porthos had purposely chosen that spot to make camp, hoping that its beauty would ease Aramis' troubled mind.

With a sigh, Aramis just stood there for a minute, rubbing the right side of his head against the ache that still cropped-up too often after his concussion.

The trickle of the river was enticing, with the sun's reflection shining brightly. There was a large pile of boulders close to the river, and Aramis headed over and climbed them, looking out over the water and taking a deep breath of the warm air, hoping that it would dispel the ache. It didn't help the pain, but the beautiful sight lifted his spirits slightly. He took a step closer to the edge, but he stepped on leaves that were concealing a crevice between two of the rocks and his leg plunged into it, dropping his entire body.

Immediately, several hisses filled the air, and Aramis watched as snakes slithered out of the rocks. Fear filled him when he saw that they were venomous asps, and he tried to scramble out. All he succeeded in was sliding further into the crevice, his entire right leg caught between the rocks. "PORTHOS!" he shouted, batting snakes away from himself. "ATHOS!"

The snakes seemed to come from all around him, slithering over his shoulders and arms, and one even slid around his neck, smacking the tip of its tail against his lips. A sudden sharp pain filled Aramis' left arm and he gasped, just as hands grabbed him under the arms and yanked, pulling him away from the rocks but twisting his knee where it was still caught in the crevice. He gave a cry of pain and Porthos shifted to tug Aramis in a different direction, succeeding that time and freeing his leg.

Porthos pulled Aramis away so quickly that he stumbled and they both fell off the pile of boulders. Aramis gave another pained cry when they hit the hard ground, and Porthos quickly scrambled up and yanked him away from the rocks.

Pain filled Aramis' knee and he had no idea how seriously he was injured, but all he was focused on was the sharp stab coming from his left forearm, where two holes in his sleeve showed where snake fangs had penetrated.

Once they were far enough away from the deadly creatures, Porthos and Athos quickly sat Aramis down and frantically worked to divest their friend of his weapons, sash, and jacket, to inspect him for bites.

"Were you bitten?! Were you bitten?!" Porthos asked, repeating it over and over.

Aramis' lungs were working overtime to deal with the panic of being attacked by deadly asps. "Yes!" he answered.

"Where?!" Athos exclaimed, being unintentionally rough as he pulled Aramis' jacket off him.

Aramis had no time to answer before Porthos grabbed his left arm, pushed up the bloody sleeve, and covered the bite wounds with his mouth, sucking out venom and blood before spitting it into the grass.

Aramis gave a gasp of pain and shock.

Athos searched him for more wounds, finding no more holes or blood, after which he simply held onto Aramis and watched Porthos' actions with open distress on his face...an expression that the others rarely saw in the usually stoic musketeer.

Porthos kept it up until he felt nothing more in his mouth, and then he did it again three more times just to be sure. He pulled Aramis' arm away from his face to inspect the wounds, finding the two holes red and swollen from his drastic action.

Aramis was breathing as if he'd been running, and his face was as white as snow. They could both feel his entire body trembling, and their hearts nearly seized in their chests when Aramis' eyes closed and his head drooped forward.

"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed, grabbing their friend's face. "Don't you dare die!"

Aramis' eyes remained closed as he continued to breathe too fast. He felt faint; his aching head was spinning in circles and he wasn't sure if it was connected to his Savoy concussion or from snake venom.

Porthos started to lie Aramis down, but Athos stopped him. "No! If there's venom in his blood, it'll go straight to his heart if he's flat."

Porthos stopped, before hauling Aramis to his feet. "Stand up, Aramis! Stand up!"

Aramis' injured leg buckled, and he gasped from the pain.

"Porthos!" Athos exclaimed. "Panicking won't help!"

Porthos pulled Aramis' uninjured arm around his shoulders to keep him upright. "What do we do?!" he exclaimed. "He's going to die!"

Athos looked at Aramis, whose head was still drooped forward, his face ashen from pain and shock. "We take care of him," Athos said. "Bring him near the fire."

Porthos obeyed, shaking with fear and grief. His eyes filled with tears but he didn't let them fall as he sat Aramis on the ground and knelt.

Aramis lifted his head and looked at him.

Porthos was surprised and smiled at him. "Hey, how you doin'?"

Aramis shook his head, still in a state of shock. "I don't know."

A pang of grief stabbed Porthos again. "You're gonna be fine," he lied.

Aramis looked at them both, as Athos knelt with Aramis' medical pack. "I was bitten by an asp," he said, his voice shaking.

"But your doublet is made of leather, and Porthos quickly gave you the correct treatment," Athos said, as he took Aramis' arm and poured water over the bites.

"So you think there's a chance that he might survive?" Porthos asked him.

Athos said nothing as he followed the water with a dousing of brandy.

Aramis winced from the fiery, stinging pain that made his arm feel like it was melting. "Don't c-cover them," he told Athos, fighting not to groan.

Athos nodded and rolled Aramis' sleeve up past the wounds before moving to check Aramis' leg. "Where is the pain?"

"My knee."

Athos pulled Aramis' pant leg out of his boot and pushed it up past his knee, revealing a swollen, reddened joint.

Aramis felt a wave of lightheadedness wash over him, and he weakly slumped against Porthos.

"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed, in panic.

"It's dislocated," Aramis said, eyes closed. The one thing he knew was that relocating it would be absolute agony.

Porthos shook him. "Stay with us, Aramis!"

Aramis opened his eyes and looked at Athos. "Leave it; there may be no point otherwise."

Pain filled both of his friend's faces at what he was saying; if he was dying, he wouldn't need his knee put back into place.

Athos looked at Aramis. "Do you feel any effects from the bite?"

Aramis hesitated as he assessed himself. The breathlessness and shaking could definitely be attributed to the fear, shock, and pain, as well as the lightheaded feeling in his brain. His headache was a lingering effect from Savoy. He had no double vision, convulsing, paralysis, or nausea, and a quick look showed that there was no rash forming around the bites. "No."

His answer gave them all hope, though all three of them knew that the effects could simply be delayed because of Porthos' quick action upon finding the bite.

"You are going to live," said Athos. With that, he shot a glance at Porthos.

Aramis felt Porthos tighten his grip around him before he heard a *pop*. Blinding agony filled his knee, and he gave a loud cry of pain that he didn't even have enough breath for.

Athos tightly held Aramis' leg down lest he move it and cause more damage.

"Breathe," Porthos urgently said, watching Aramis' face turn even whiter as he desperately gasped for air. "Breathe!"

The pain was relentless, stealing Aramis' breath away and making him feel as if it was impossible to inhale. A thick dizziness invaded his brain and he might've let himself pass out if he'd been sure that he would wake up again.

Suddenly, something very cold touched his throbbing knee, and the sensation was a relief. Aramis managed to gain control over his breathing, and he found himself tightly held against Porthos' chest.

Porthos loosened his hold when he felt Aramis shift, and he helped him straighten up.

Aramis closed his eyes, still breathing heavily. When he finally managed to take a deeper breath, he reopened his eyes and looked at his friends, who silently stared at him.

Saying nothing, Aramis shakily reached his uninjured arm towards his leg and lifted the cloth that Athos had soaked in the river. The kneecap was once more where it should be, and he put the cloth back over it, hoping that the cold would alleviate some of the swelling.

"Any effects from the venom?" Athos asked.

Aramis still felt the same. "No."

"How long does it usually take?" said Porthos. "Somethin' should've happened by now, right?"

"I would think so," said Athos.

Aramis knew that it took longer, and didn't want to give them false hope. "The timing can never be assumed. I would wait several hours to be sure."

"We're too far from anywhere to get you to a doctor fast!" Porthos nervously said.

"There's nothing that a doctor can do," Aramis told him. He winced when the throbbing in his knee flared, and he raised a hand to his aching head.

Porthos tightened the grip on him. "Aramis!"

Aramis sighed. "I'm not going to drop dead," he said, eyes closed against the pain. "If the venom has any effect, we'll know."

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes, before Porthos suddenly spoke. "I'm so sorry, Aramis!"

Aramis reopened his eyes. "For what?"

"It was my idea to stop here!" he said, tightening the grip on his friend. "I hoped for the scenery to lift your spirits and take your mind off things."

Aramis gave him a slight smile. "My mind is certainly on something else now."

Porthos put a hand over his face. "One decision to stop riding, and it leads to this!"

"It isn't your fault," Aramis told him. "You couldn't have known."

"The same is true of you," said Athos. "Nothing that happened in Savoy was any fault of yours."

Aramis looked at him. His two friends had been trying to convince him for months that the outcome of that mission wouldn't have been any different no matter what he could've done. With the current situation as an analogy, Aramis could finally understand. "Well," he said. "At least something good came of this, then."

The next half-hour was spent making Aramis more comfortable and passing out food, which no one was hungry for. They forced themselves to eat anyway, knowing that they'd need their strength for whatever was to come.

Aramis couldn't stop shaking, though he tried to hide it from the others. Brave musketeer or not, he was terrified at the thought of dying here and now from an asp bite, which was a painful and lingering death. He briefly entertained the thought of asking one of the others to shoot him if his suffering grew unbearable, but he knew that if one of them had to do that, then all three of them would die there that day: all for one.

"Will you pray with me?" he asked the others.

"Of course!" Porthos exclaimed. "And I'll start it off: God, please don't let Aramis die…we almost lost him in Savoy but You let him live. Don't take 'im from us now…we can't live without 'im!"

Aramis was touched. As he bowed his head and closed his eyes, he hoped that God considered him worthy of a miracle.

TBC