This was an idea that just came to me and it's sad and stupid but I just...I needed to write it and if you imagine it as I hope my writing allows you to and channel the emotions of the characters maybe it will make you cry. It's what I hope for anyway. Bad things will happen, but they won't happen on the show (I mean this better not happen) so it'll all be good. Maybe I got sick of all these awesome, cute little brotherly fics and thought, I want to bring everyone down again so they'll write more of them! Or maybe I just got attacked by a raging, black, sadistic plot bunny... Anyway, this is my formal warning, this is dark. Short, but dark. This is a one-shot so please leave a review and tell me what you think.
The angry shouts and thundering of hooves behind them warned of their pursuers as the four Musketeers raced through the trees in the near complete darkness, hearts thudding in their chests and breathing ragged. It felt as though they were being hunted, like a rabbit chased by a fox, as wind whipped past and Aramis glanced back at the floating lights of torches amongst the trees behind them.
All four of them had been captured; no doubt a trap from the Cardinal in revenge for their involvement in the plot against him where they alerted the Queen and sent his best spy out of the country. They had lost their weapons, been battered and bruised and were now running for their very lives toward the Musketeer outpost just east of them.
Of course their captors made it clear that their prey were never meant to see another dawn as they rounded up a hunting party of soldiers both of horseback and foot and raised the alarm to follow the escaping Musketeers' trail, savage, hell beasts they called dogs howling and snapping their jaws in the excitement of the chase.
The bitter night air was still, as to hear the encroaching monsters that stalked them and Aramis' chest ached as he and his three brothers moved desperately to escape them. There was savage gasp behind then Aramis and Porthos both turned back where Athos was half carrying d'Artagnan-the Gascon's arm over his shoulder, Athos' arm supporting his waist-as the boy clutched at the bleeding stab wound in his gut, face screwed up in agony.
They all slowed for a moment, the nagging voice in all their minds reminding them of the flickering fires swimming ever closer through the sea of shadow and bark.
"I-I can't-" the boy gasped weakly, groaning as his legs have way beneath him and Athos bowed lower with his weight "Go on...without me..."
"No way, whelp." Porthos staggered back toward them, clutching his broken arm tightly against his torso as he tried to balance the boy's weight but was weakly brushed away.
"We are not leaving you behind." Aramis agreed breathlessly, coming forward to look more closely at the growing stain of crimson across the boy's white shirt.
"I'm...dying anyway. You need... to go!"
Athos only held him tighter, pulling him forward a few steps "We don't have time for thi-"
"Please, Athos." D'Artagnan begged, fist curling into the older man's shirt as he looked at him with wide, pleading eyes "Save...yourselves."
"I will not lose another, little brother!" Athos all but yelled, his favce contorted into an expression of such anguish that Aramis and Porthos heard their hearts shatter.
The bleeding boy turned to Aramis, dark, teary eyes meeting his "This...is a...mortal wound, 'Mis. We...both know...there is no...hope for me."
Tears streaked down Aramis' face, a painful lump caught in his throat as he met the dark pools of the boy's eyes. He knew the truth, and d'Artagnan knew it too. There was no way he could lie to him, give him false comfort. D'Artagnan was dying.
"Aramis?" Porthos was staring at the medic, tears flowing from his eyes unashamedly as he looked for confirmation and Aramis tilted his head, opening his mouth but finding no words, no breath, just the silence of heart break and hopelessness.
Porthos' face fell and Aramis could see the light disappear from his eyes like a candle being blown out.
"No!" Athos denied in a raspy whisper and none of them needed to look to see the glistening water cascading from his eyes as he looked down at the pale boy in his arms and let the salty water drip from his face "You can't die, d'Artagnan. We won't let you."
A small smile graced the Gascon's blue lips as he sank lower to the floor and slipped from Athos' grip "I'm...sorry...run...you need to...go..."
The sounds of the hunt had grown louder. A few more minutes and they would be upon them. But none of them could leave. They would rather die than abandon the dying boy, their little brother now bleeding out amongst the dirt and foliage of the forest floor. Aramis glanced to Porthos helplessly as they all fell to their knees beside d'Artagnan, Athos' calloused fingers clasping the boy's hand firmly, Porthos' large hand on his shoulder and Aramis' nimble fingers carding through his hair.
Finally, after an eternity of silence, the world seemingly stopping and neglecting the frantic chase of the hunters in favour of the heartbreak of the hunted:
"Porthos, Aramis, get out of here."
The eldest Musketeer's voice was so calm, so sure, so Athos; a complete juxtaposition to Porthos' and Aramis' choked, horrified protests.
"We can't leave you, they'll kill you!"
"Let us stay with you! We'll go down fightin'"
"There is no point us all dying." Athos turned to face them, face pained but determined and his gaze held so much love and affection "I will not leave d'Artagnan to die alone. Live on for us, brothers; promise me."
Aramis let out a loud sob "I-I promise, Athos."
"A-aye." Porthos seemed to gag on the words.
Athos offered them a loving, grateful smile an his eyes said so much that words could not "We'll meet again someday. It has been an honour serving you. All for one..."
"And one for all." They said in unison, voices harsh and choked and raw with emotion, even d'Artagnan's fragile words joining theirs as he struggled to breathe.
Porthos' head snapped up toward the shouts of men and the calling of dogs, rushing into a powerful embrace with Athos before placing a hand on d'Artagnan's head, mussing up the unruly dark hair fondly with a small smirk.
"I'll see you soon, right?."
"Not...too soon...I hope." D'Artagnan grinned and nodded weakly in return as Aramis wrapped Athos in a hug tight enough to break bones then bowed to kiss d'Artagnan on the forehead.
"Farewell, my brothers. We will meet again in the arms of God."
Suddenly men were emerging from the tree line, dogs snarling and pulling at the masters and Porthos grabbed Aramis' bicep and dragged him away. As they ran, sprinting through the never-ending expanse of trees, Aramis turned his head back to see the shadow of Athos stood protectively over d'Artagnan just as the first enemy reached them. He kept watching as Athos disarmed the man swiftly, grabbing the weapon in his hands and slicing anyone who came close to the body of his younger brother.
Aramis stopped, jolting Porthos and they both looked as swarms of men set upon their oldest brother, hearts screaming at them to return.
"Come on, Aramis. Our promise." Porthos reminded him, voice so quiet and resentful of his words as he struggled to fight the urge to go back for them. Aramis gripped Porthos' uninjured hand and turned with him, knowing that was the last time he was ever to see his two other brothers.
They never saw the moment Athos fell, having taken out a dozen or so men, nor did they see how the two brothers slipped away, hand in hand, truly ignorant of the world around them as they slipped into blissful darkness.
But Aramis and Porthos never forgot them. Because-as they believed up until many year later when they died fighting side by side-a part of themselves also perished in that wood on that dark night.
But they always looked forward to the day when they would be reunited. The brothers in all but blood; together once more.