He sat on the floor, trousers wet from the snow beneath him. He had long lost any feeling in his feet and hands, who had taken on a blueish shade. He was glad his teeth had stopped shattering, even though he should have known that it was a bad sign. But at the moment, Aramis knew nothing. His mind was a muddled mess, too clouded that he could think probably.
All he knew was that he had to stay.
Protect his fallen brothers from any more harm.
And he knew that he couldn't leave, even if he wanted to. Every now and then blood trickled into his eye from the head wound he had achieved. At least the cold hemmed the blood loss and the pain.
Still there was this pounding in his skull that just wouldn't stop. After the ravens had left hours ago, it was the only sound accompanying him in the otherwise deathly silent clearing.
His brothers hadn't made a sound since hours. The once who hadn't died right in the battle had succumbed to their wounds in the hours after that. Aramis had been helpless without any medical knowledge or supplies. He had pressed onto their wound uselessly until exhaustion had taken over, bounding him to the trunk were he leant against heavily.
"Aramis." At first he thought he imagined the sound, but soon he heard snow crouching beneath feet again, then his name a second time. He would recognize this voice anywhere.
"Capt'n." Aramis slurred, fighting to lift his head to look the arriving man into the eyes. There they were, gentle and comforting as ever but now there was something else too. A sadness Aramis had never seen before.
"I'm here, you can rest now my son." Treville crouched down beside him, his fingers prodding at the wound on his head.
"We've brought help. We'll get you home."
As Aramis looked over the Captain's shoulder he noticed more Musketeers, living ones, filling the clearing and carrying his dead brothers to carts.
"I can help." Aramis assured and tried to push himself to his feet, but his limbs wouldn't cooperate.
Treville shook his head before loosening his cape and draping it over Aramis. "Rest. You've done enough."
Aramis wanted to argue that he hadn't done enough – because if he had, they wouldn't all have died – but he was already dozing off.
As he awoke next he didn't feel cold any more. But with a sinking feeling he had to discover that he still was in the clearing with the corpses of his brothers. And Treville and the others were gone.
They had left them.
A heavy feeling of betrayal settled on his chest, joining the one Marsac had caused as he had just walked away.
What had he done to deserve this?
Aramis looked up, searching for the sky, for God, to give him answers. But there were nothing but trees hovering above him in oppressive stillness.
Involuntary, he felt a tear trickle down his cheek, growing ice cold within seconds.
He would die out there, beside the rotting bodies of his comrades. Alone and abandoned.
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