WARNING: Violence. This one turned out Darker than I was expecting…
The sun is at its peak, the canopy above provides shade at the cost of trapping the heat like a natural oven. Athos quietly sympathizes with every baked food he had ever consumed and glances down at his friend who at least has the comfort of being in a simple shirt. Aramis catches his gaze and a teasing grin appears on his face.
"Enjoying the scenery Athos?"
Athos raises an eyebrow.
"I assumed we were on a mission," he says.
"That never stopped us from seeking enjoyment before,"
"Maybe it should have," his voice is ice.
Aramis stops in his tracks and looks up at him.
Purses his lips into a thin line of a smile and tip's an invisible hat.
"Touché," he says.
Athos clenches his jaw shut and urges the horse to move again.
They push through the thick heat and thicker vegetation until Athos pulls his horse to a stop and looks around at the trees surrounding them. The woodland is quiet here, the clearing stilted with a presence in the shadows of its too neat borders and Athos' skin prickles.
There are unknown eyes here.
A quick glance down to his side and he finds Aramis staring ahead, his shoulders too loose to be relaxed.
This is it.
Athos gives two sharp whistles and one low in quick succession.
His horse paws the ground, somewhere a crow squawks and a minute ticks by.
And then the combination is whistled back to him from the trees beyond the clearing. Booted footfalls echo out to him and within a span of seconds they are surrounded by five men. Each armed with a pistol and a sword and pointing at least one weapon their way.
The mask of a perpetually unimpressed noble is like a second skin and as Athos' gaze flicks to Aramis the man looks everything a Spanish spy would in the situation, contemptuous in his gaze and a word away from violence in his posture.
"The Comte I assume?" the big red head sheaths his sword, "I'm Gustav; and this is the spy you caught then?"
He looks Aramis up and down.
"A lousy spy to get caught by the likes of the coddled nobility," he says.
"Still better than hired dogs like you," Aramis shrugs.
That earns him a fist to the face and before Athos can blink Aramis launches at Gustav like a man possessed. It's the shock of the sudden ferocity that gives him a pause and since his friend is still a man tied up, possessed or not, he is easily subdued by Gustav's men. With his hand on his sword Athos is about to jump to the rescue but a fleeting glance his way from his friend leaves him rooted in the saddle. He hates what is asked of him in that look and he hates that his friend is right and that the man is apparently good at this.
Aramis is still struggling against the hold of four men, snarling and swearing when Gustav steps closer and punches him in the gut; again and again and again. Aramis falls to his knees with a groan and Athos finds the edge of his own sword resting against Gustav's neck.
"Enough," his voice does not waver, does not betray the shivering in his very flesh at the sound of his friend's ragged, pain filled breathing.
He keeps his eyes fixed on Gustav.
"I will not have you damage the means of my riches," he says.
"Won't fetch you much I can guarantee you that,"
"That's for your boss to decide is it not?"
Gustav smirks and whirls around with a pistol in his hand, sunlight glints off the muzzle pointed his way as the man cocks the hammer of his weapon. Athos knows that he would be dead before his blow completely falls and that would only leave his friend tied up amidst the other four men. Still he keeps his sword steady against the man's throat.
"Tell me Comte, why are you not taking this spy to the King?" Gustav asks.
"He won't pay me as well as this deal would,"
"So you don't care what happens to the King of France?"
"Riches are riches regardless of who sits on the throne,"
"A man of no loyalty eh?"
And isn't that the question he'd been searching for his entire life, looking for who is worthy of his loyalty, his title or his love, the law or his wife, the King or his friend? Athos muses he is after all a man shredded by the cost of loyalty.
"Yes," he says, "it's an easy life that way,"
"I could end you now and take the spy," Gustav raises a brow and lowers his pistol, "but then that would send a bad impression to others reaching out to us,"
Athos pulls his rapier away but keeps it in hand.
He doesn't say a word as Gustav steps again towards Aramis and hauls him up by his hair. The defiance is clear in the eyes that meet his and Athos can only bite back a frustrated sigh as his friend spits on his captor. This time it's the man on his right who lands a fist to his side.
Gustav wipes the spit from his face with a sleeve and tugs at Aramis' hair to bring his face up again.
"I hope the Master of the House finds you useless," the leer on his face is of abject superiority, "I will enjoy watching you struggle in the vetting."
He steps back and looks to the beady eyed man on Aramis' right.
"Get his shoes off Benoit; we wouldn't want him running off,"
It's a struggle.
Or rather an attempt at it.
Athos keeps the rope as slack as he can without appearing fazed by the sight of four men pinning his friend to the ground. It goes against every instinct that is screaming at him to move and help the man, instincts that he had buried with his brother years ago but are somehow always sharper in the presence of Aramis.
Gustav nods at the man who ends up holding Aramis' boots and orders him to get their horses. He turns then to the remaining three and orders them to secure the bindings of their prisoner. It is when the man himself reaches for the other end of the rope that is tethered to Aramis that Athos raises a brow. His grip tightens on the rope end and he keeps his face blank, not showing the fear of having this connection severed.
"I'd rather not," he says.
"We'd be moving quickly, you think you'd be able to make him keep up?"
"He stays with me," there is an edge in his words and finality in his gaze.
Gustav backs away.
Athos grits his teeth as the rope pulled behind him jerks yet again and he tugs softly at the rein of his horse to slow it down imperceptibly. It isn't enough but it will have to do he tells himself and dares not glance back at his friend. They have been following a dirt trail through the forest and Gustav had kept his word about their speed, the pace they have been at for hours now isn't a gallop but it isn't a trot either. And he refuses to acknowledge the trouble it has been giving Aramis.
He offers a silent prayer of thanks when Gustav slows his ride to a stop. Their small company follows his lead and the stifling air is filled the heavy breathing of horses and the one man who had had to keep up with them. Gustav smirks at Athos and takes a mouthful of water from his canteen; shifting in his saddle he grins at the man tied to Athos's horse.
"We'll let the horses rest an hour or two; our next stop with be the house," he says.
"Vargas will meet us there?" Athos forces that crawling gaze back on himself.
"Not Vargas, but the Master would be waiting,"
Athos orders his heart to calm down at the news, all that they had endured up till now would be lost if he let his emotions rule him. Regardless the desire to wipe that face clean of that smug look simmers under his skin.
"The Master?"
"To see if your man is worth Vargas' time,"
They had not accounted for this but now is hardly the time that they can back out. Athos acknowledges the words with a sharp nod and dismounts. He looks to Aramis who is bent forwards to catch his breath and reaches for one of the canteens in his saddle bag. Opening it he offers the container to his friend who straightens painfully and reaches for it with his bound hands.
Athos tells himself he did not see the pale, sweat slicked skin nor the tremble in the stretching fingers.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I don't answer to you Gutsav," he turns to the man with that pride he had perfected for years in his father's stead.
That is not the man he wishes ever to emulate but at the moment it works, as Aramis gulps down water Gustav turns away with a derisive snort. Athos pretends he does not hear the cough that breaks out behind him as his friend inevitably swallows the water wrong way in his haste.
His hands itch to turn back around and soothe away the throat tearing sound.
Instead he curls them into fists as he turns and snatches the canteen away from Aramis.
"Idiot," he snaps.
Aramis still coughs but there's a flash of smirk that's only visible at the distance they hold. And then he snarls something unflattering about Athos' parentage before he plops down onto his rear, drawing up his shaking knees slightly and dropping his chin to his chest he just breathes. The sun has ended its journey across the sky and the blue above dulls and deepens gradually. Athos extracts his own canteen for a drink and eyes the men watching his every move. This clearing isn't as wide as the previous one but a nit more airy, since the trees had been growing further and further apart for a while now.
Athos glances down at his friend and stowing away his canteen he moves closer to the man, close enough to kick him lightly in the leg.
"Get up,"
"Go to hell,"
"I'm already there," and Athos didn't have to pretend for at least this to sound believable.
He grabs the back of his friend's sweat soaked shirt and hauls him up, if his grip remains as a grounding force in the face of the man's swaying, no one is wiser. Athos grabs the reins of his horse and leads them both to the nearest tree line, hoping that the area would be cooler. If the way Aramis sighs as he plops down again, it seems to work.
"Aren't you the considerate sort?"
Athos freezes, feels the muscles in his back go rigid but he keeps his face blank as he looks to Benoit and the heavy man beside him, it's the latter who had spoken.
"Yves here is worried," Benoit grins.
"See first you give him water then you bring him to shade," Yves is not so subtle in gripping his pistol, "I'm starting to think you care,"
"I care not to stand around holding his rope,"
Athos ties it to the tree and steps back. One hand coming to rest on the hilt of his rapier as he looks past the two men at Gustav making his way to them. The leader frowns at Athos and then at his men, as if unsure who he dislikes more.
"If you ladies are done with your tea party there are horses that need taken care of," he says.
"What do you know about this Comte and his spy?" Yves turns to him.
"You're questioning our orders?"
"I'm sick of the orders that tell us nothing about the people we're escorting,"
"Well that's the way it is," Gustav is griping the hilt of the rapier in his belt, "you have a problem you take it to the Master,"
Athos is not prepared for the glare that Yves levels at him. He locks his knees just in time as the man reaches with a meaty hand and grabbing him by the collar of his doublet he brings them nose to nose.
"I've been watching you Comte," he snarls, "or are you going to tell me you didn't slow down back there time and again to keep from dragging this man behind your horse?"
"What I am going to tell you is that the heat is affecting your sight," Athos raises an unimpressed eyebrow, "or more likely your head."
The derisive snort from behind him is a surprise.
"You got something to say?" Benoit snaps at Aramis.
He is sitting with his back to the narrow tree bark, sweat drenched and still a bit breathless though Athos supposes it's from the beating earlier than the exhaustion. And yet with an arm on his knee he had pulled up, the man gives an air of indolent arrogance when he looks at them.
"Go ahead and kill the man if you will, but don't accuse the Comte of caring," he says.
Yves shoves Athos aside and glares past him at their prisoner.
"And of course you would know all about it?" he sneers.
"I'm a spy," Aramis looks offended, "it's my job to know my target,"
"You're saying you were sent to spy on this Comte?" Gustav jerks a thumb towards Athos, "why?"
And Athos will like to know that too; because this was not part of the plan that the Captain had set up for them, it was not from the information they had learned to make a story for this mission. He carefully keeps the shock from his face and studies his friend for any clue as to where this is going.
"You may be ready to betray your King but I'm still loyal to mine," Aramis rolls his eyes and leans back, looking for all the world like he's lounging in a palace, "but I can tell you this, the Comte here is a heartless bastard who feels nothing,"
And that hurts to hear.
But Aramis it seems isn't done.
"He's selfish and the only thing he cares about is his own whim," he says and smirks at the four men, "how do you think he lost his riches? Sent the family name and property down the drain,"
Athos flinches.
Aramis looks at him directly in the eye, his gaze hard and a vicious smile on his face.
"His brother died paying for his mistakes,"
Athos' eyes close against the abrupt sharp pain between his ribs.
"And our Comte here ordered his own wife to be hung to her death just b –"
His words are cut short the thick sound of knuckles connecting a jaw. The anger so near the surface these days bursts to the fore and Athos pulls the man close with the scruff of his shirt and delivers another blow to his face. Red haze fills his mind because how dare he? How dare this man drag out the demons of his past that Athos had shared in trust? After all they had been through, after all the secrets he had kept for him how dare Aramis twist the knife Athos had shown him embedded in his back?
His fist rises again – pauses at the smile on bloodstained lips.
And he sees honest regret at its core.
The lull ends when he feels a hand on his pistol at his side and Athos reaches for it seconds later Aramis draws it out. They stumble back from each other and blue eyes meet brown. Aramis raises the pistol to Athos' face and takes aim. Athos hears the air cut in a whistle above his shoulder as the ball flies past.
Yves falls dead behind him.
Benoit launches at Aramis.
But Gustav gets there first.
Hauls their prisoner up by his throat and rams him back against the tree.
"Now that was a stupid move," Gustav's grip has Aramis chocking, he glances back at Benoit who is held back by his other two companions, "Oh shut it, the man had been looking to get shot for a while now,"
But his fingers remain clenched around Aramis' throat.
Athos flinches when Benoit growls for revenge.
"You've made him mad," Gustav says to Aramis, "and you're still at our mercy. So what does this get you?"
Red stained teeth bare in a grin.
"I just like to keep things suicidal," Aramis gasps.
Athos blinks.
Oh.
His mind is stuck somewhere between reckless plans executed on the border of France and promises to a widowed mother of a King born in secret. He fails to register the next minutes as realization hits him in waves. When he finally forces his attention back it is to the sight of seething Benoit as Gustav lets Aramis slump to the ground.
The ragged breaths between painful coughs grate against his nerves and he refuses to glance at his friend.
"I will kill him!"
"Shut up Benoit."
"I –"
"Will you be the one explaining to the Master of the House as to why we are short of the spy we were sent to collect?" Gustav asks.
"He –"
"You don't want to be the one bound up in the vetting do you?" Gustav's smile is sickly sweet, "You know I can make it happen," he adds.
Benoit grits his teeth and glares at the man sagged against the tree.
"But I suppose a punishment is in order," Gustav looks to Athos.
The grin on his face is enough to cast a shudder down Athos' spine and it takes an effort to not let it show to the man. Instead Athos raises a brow and the leader of Vargas' agents rubs his hands together, his grin widening.
"Well Benoit and Yves were in the army together," he says, "so a soldier's punishment? A lesson to remember should he attempt to escape again,"
"That was not an attempt to escape," Athos says and instantly understands his mistake.
He can feel the glare Aramis sends his way and it is not needed. Athos wishes he had simply knocked the man out when he had the chance as he nods his acceptance of Gustav's words.
And ignores the churning in his gut.
Clamps down on the bells tolling in his mind.
Tells himself it's what is needed of them.
Gustav nods at the two men who had let go of Benoit and they do his bidding without a word. Athos numbly observes the way they refuse to look at their leader in the face and a vague thought forms as to what the man is holding over them; but the fear curling around his lungs whisks it away as he watches the two men drag Aramis up to his feet.
Aramis spews curses in Spanish at the manhandling.
The fear coils tighter in Athos' chest.
He blinks and they have his friend facing the narrow tree bark, the rope is wound around it tighter to keep the bound hands pressed against the rough wood. Aramis is struggling; pulling against the rope holding him in place against the tree. He is trying to twist his hands free but the bindings around his writs only dig further into his skin. Crimson flecks spotting the shirt sleeves and rope alike.
Gustav steps forward and in a single swipe cuts through the back of Aramis' shirt from collar to hem.
Aramis' head swings to look back.
His eyes find Athos' and there is a battle ground stretched between them.
Fear and hope warring for dominance as his friend looks to him with a quiet demand.
Athos knows what he is asking of him, what he is begging him for but it is something that he cannot do.
He cannot do this to the bloody idiot he had worked so hard to keep alive.
The one he had betrayed his King for.
And then there is resignation in the brown eyes before Aramis looks away.
Athos glances at Benoit who has his belt in his hand.
"I'll do it," he bites out.
"What?"
"If anyone is going to do this it'll be me," and Athos is ready to spill blood for this.
He wants them to deny him this just so that he can tell the Captain that he had a valid reason to shut down the mission and leave behind the cooling bodies of these men. But then Gustav grins even wider and snatching the belt from Benoit gives it to Athos.
There is a shiver in his legs as he steps into position; his palm is slick with sweat and he clenches his fist tighter onto the buckle and the leather in his grasp. Locks his knees and stands firm. He cannot afford to slip up, had seen his father enough times when he dealt punishment to the house staff. Remembers the words he had tried to forget, the lessons and tricks imparted he had never wanted to witness.
He pulls his arm back, feels the leather sing through the air in the second before it hits the mark.
First strike
Second
Third
Fourth
Fifth
He tells himself it makes sense that he should do it.
Can see the wisdom of Aramis' silent request although he knows that his friend has no idea about Athos' this particular skill set. It is the trust he realizes; the one his friend has in him to know how far will be far enough in this case. To make the damage convincing yet not permanent.
Twelfth
Thirteenth
Fourteenth
So Athos makes himself believe that it is a good thing he is doing this.
He knows how to bring pain without a lasting damage.
And he needs to prove to these men that he indeed does not care for this spy.
Twenty three
Twenty four
His shoulder burns, sweat breaks out on his forehead and down his back. The world is at a halt, and the only motion is the arc of the leather the only sound is of it cutting through the stagnant air. Athos looses track of time and counts, tamps down on the guilt and the horror of it.
He stops only when his chest is too tight to pull in a breath.
Athos blinks away the sweat from his gaze.
Refuses to acknowledge the wetness on his face is anything else.
Wipes at his eyes when the burning doesn't stop and stares ahead.
Aramis hadn't moved, not an inch it seems but now he appears to be leaning against the tree instead of pulling away from it. His head is bent, resting on his bound fists and in the last glow of the evening his back is a canvas of dark welts, many of them weeping red. Not an inch of skin is spared and Athos finds it a hollow achievement that he had managed to keep the muscles intact in his friend's back.
It is then that he notes there is silence about him. Aramis has made no sound during it all and Athos is torn between being thankful and horrified.
He throws away the belt that's slick with blood more than halfway up the leather and turns his back on the scene, does not see his friend's knees give way, his head coming to rest on his forearms. No one else moves as Athos walks away, across the small clearing and back the way they had come. He crosses into the dark shadows of the trees, thicker now for the waning evening and he moves blindly over the dirt trail.
Trips over his own feet; and lands on his hands and knees.
A shudder racks through him as his mouth sours.
Athos coughs and shivers and throws up.
There is nothing but bile and his stomach spasms, muscles cramping and bunching as his guts try to tear themselves apart. He groans and breaths through his nose, trying his best to stave off another round of dry heaving. Swallowing thickly he leans back to sit on his haunches and lets his chin drop to his chest. Closing his eyes Athos just breathes, waits for his erratic heartbeat to slow down. His hands clenched into fists over his knees take some time to ease open and for a while Athos simply stares at them.
With a shudder he wipes them on his breeches.
The move frantic and harsh.
But when the guilt still lingers on his skin he tells himself it's just his imagination.
One he will revisit in the isolation of his room with at least three bottles of wine for company.
Aramis' words from earlier ring clear in his head as he gathers himself up and dusts off his clothes. Athos wipes a hand over his face and pulls in a calming breath before he makes his way back to the clearing, caught off guard by the night that had set in.
Benoit is sitting by Yves body that is now laid out in the clearing. Athos is surprised by the way the man is stripping his dead friend of his valuables. In the pale light of the moon there is a feverish touch to his movements as he goes through the pockets and shoves whatever he finds into his own. Pulling his gaze away from that he looks to where the other two men are tending to the horses and finds Gustav among them. The man is perched on a low tree branch and drinking wine; the dark glass of the bottle glints in the moonlight as he takes a swig and kicks at the nearest man in his range. The other man stumbles before resuming his task.
Athos walks over to his own horse that they had collected to keep with the others and pulls out a canteen from his saddle bag. Ignoring Gustav's sneer he turns and moves on to where he had last seen Aramis.
The sound of shallow breathing in the relative darkness is the first thing that registers.
It takes a second for Athos' sight to adjust to the moonlight filtering through the leaves above.
His friend is still tied up.
A shoulder pressed against the tree and the side of his head tipped against the rough bark. The silver light trickling down casts his face into a sick pallor and pools shadows under his closed eyes. Athos reaches out to lay a hand on the side of his friend's face.
The skin is unexpectedly cool under his touch.
Dark eyes flutter open, appearing wide and black in the night. But the faraway gaze is blank, too reminiscent of the man haunted by an entire company of men lost in a snowy forest. Something clenches in his chest and Athos swipes the pad of his thumb under his friend's eye; feels ridiculously grateful when he is rewarded with the hazy eyes flicking down to look at his face.
" 'Mis?" it's barely a whisper.
But the gaze sharpens instantly.
For a second there are no defenses against the tempest of emotions in his eyes and Athos fears that this is where they will lose the mission; that his friend would cost them their cover as the storm that had been brewing in him for months now will finally make landfall.
But that's not what sends cold tendrils of fear creeping over Athos' heart.
It's what he sees would be left in the wake of it.
The destruction this storm will wreak.
And Athos is not ready to face these cold winds of change.
He pulls back his hand, does not miss the flinch in his friend at the loss of contact. Wraps his denial snug around his shoulders and offer the man water, ignores the way the usually steady grip trembles, the way his friend winces at every small movement.
"You alright?" Aramis' voice is pitched low and steady.
He nods curtly.
Anger surprises him by rearing its head back up and Athos tries to shove it back from wherever it's coming from, he's not ready to face it yet. Quietly he takes back the canteen Aramis extends and refuses to look his friend in the eye.
"I'm sorry," Aramis says.
"I trusted you," he snaps.
And this is neither the time nor place for this.
"I know,"
"I told you all those things and you –" Athos really does not want to do this right now, they have to be quiet and yet the words burst forth in a whisper, "you betrayed me,"
He cannot stop it from coming out.
This hurt from where his anger stems.
Because yes it was needed; and yes it had worked. But that didn't change the fact that the man had taken what was trusted to him and twisted it perfectly to get the reaction he had wanted out of him. Athos hates that of all the people this man had manipulated him. Hit every raw nerve with precision; deliberately.
"I'm sorry," Aramis says.
"So am I," the words taste bitter on his tongue.
When he tells them that their prisoner will be taking Yves horse, unsurprisingly it is Benoit who objects the most. What does surprise Athos though is the claim he lays.
"It's my horse," he snarls, "Everything that Yves owned is mine now. That spy has already robbed me of a chance to reclaim my debts. Five years! Yves still owed me five years of pay. All the time spent at his heels, making sure he pays and you destroyed it!"
He jabs a finger in Aramis' direction.
"I will not let him near anymore of my investment!"
Athos wishes he hadn't heard that, wishes that he had been left to believe the presumptions he had built. His grip on Aramis' arm tightens when the man trembles lightly where he is standing beside him.
"I will not see this man dead before Vargas can pay me for him," Athos says.
"The Comte is right," Gustav motions for the horse to be brought over, "the spy gets to ride the horse."
Benoit spits near the man's shoes and walks away, cursing under his breath. Athos leads Aramis to the horse, ignores the rope in favor of steadying the man as he pulls himself up in the saddle and in the whitewashed light Athos helps his friend's bare feet find the stirrups. The man sways where he sits, clenches his eyes shut and Athos watches his throat bob as he swallows a few times.
Athos clasps Aramis' knee and squeezes. Feels the shift under his hand as his friend gathers back his control before he nods. Athos swings up on his own horse, lets the rope tethering Aramis lie slack over his shoulder and uses instead the reins of the horse to keep the man close as they move on.
Soon the trees are left behind as the dirt path grows wider and Athos realizes that the shapes around them are houses, thrown into darkness in the quiet of the night. He follows Gustav's lead and stops when they hear the heave and creak of a carriage; watches with a sliver of interest as the coach rides past them with a pair of horses in front and behind.
Athos frowns.
He has a feeling he had seen this carriage before.
"The Master is home," Gustav says, "good timing too,"
They follow the small procession into the settlement that is too quiet. Doors and windows sealed shut against night and no glow of hearth or candle seeps through the edges. They follow the carriage through the gates and onto the curved pathway of the mansion up ahead. At least here the lanterns are lit and the house staff still awake.
Athos pulls his horse to a stop as Gustav dismounts and getting down himself he turns to help Aramis. By the scowl he receives it's clear the act is not appreciated. So as his friend stumbles down to his feet they turn as one to watch the Master step out of the carriage. Dressed in a long dark material that shimmers in the moonlight stands the woman. Her eyes grow wide in surprise before a smile breaks onto her face.
"Well Monsieur Aramis, it seems like you cannot keep Monsieur Athos safe from me after all," Lady Solange says.
TBC
THANK YOU every one who read, followed, favorite and reviewed. I had not expected such a warm response for this story – you all are amazingly kind, thank you!
And the guest reviewers I cannot personally thank – thank you UKGuest and Brewan for leaving me your thoughts!