He couldn't help but to feel a tinge of disappointment.
He hadn't been able to find his brothers in the crowd – divided into two sides. The one cheering and insulting, only there to watch some stranger die for their entertainment. The other side composed, silent. Musketeers and even some Ladies he had swooned, the people who knew him.
But nowhere they were to be seen. This alone wasn't what was disappointing him. It had brought him a little bit of hope even. Because he had thought that when they weren't in the crowd, watching, they would be out there somewhere, rescuing him. It felt wrong to still hope, to lie to himself. His end was sealed and there was nothing they could have done. But he wanted to believe – in God's mercy and his brothers ability so save him still.
But they couldn't. And he knew it the moment the wheel started to shift. He gulped down the bile that rose in his throat as the ground came dangerously close to his feet, the wheel not stopping.
They still had time to save him – he thought. Prayed. His eyes hushed over the crowd, only stopping for a second on Anne and Constance, not really seeing. They weren't there. And neither was the sound of gunfire or swords, no fight, no horses. He was alone.
The little spark of hope he had left burned out as his feet were caught between wood and the stony ground.
He bit on his lips to not let sounds of pain leave his lips as the wheel kept turning, burying his feet underneath it – crushing them. He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. All his strength was required to keep silent – to not give the King his satisfaction. If he had been able to look up, he would have seen the toothy smile disappear from the King's face as he noticed that Aramis would not break easily – not as easily as his bones did.
He would have seen Anne, her nails digging deeply into Constance's hand, eyes shining too bright for a Queen.
He would have seen Constance, her eyes darting around nervously.
But he could not.
…
Finally.
Constance sent a brief prayer upwards, before springing into action.
"Please excuse me, Your Majesty." She muttered, entwining her hand from Anne's, while making sure to let her words come out slurred. Anne, too shocked by what was happening in the Court, did not react.
Constance made sure to trip over her feet once while she darted towards the entrance before stopping and making a show of holding he upright on the railing of the balcony.
It was one of the Red Guards who noticed it first, stepping out of line with a hint of worry.
"Are you alright, Madame?"
Constance nodded, lips tightly pressed on each other.
"I'm not used to such… shows." She breathed before taking another wobbly step as if she would want to leave the scene. But before she could come far, she let out a exaggerated breath and let herself fall forward – right onto the feet of the King.
The Red Guard had not reacted fast enough to catch the swooning woman, causing the King to jump up in frustration.
"Get her away from me!" He screeched as he tried to get his feet from underneath Constance, who stayed stubbornly still.
The unrest upon the balcony earned the attention of most of the crowd as well as the Guards who were with the Majesties. The men who turned the wheel stopped to look what all the shouting was about, leaving Aramis panting and confused. Not that he really noticed what was happening around him as pain shot through his legs.
This was enough for chaos to erupt.
…
Four shots echoed through the courtyard simultaneously. Before anyone could react, the two men on the Wheel as well the two closest Guards to it, were down.
Constance, who was slumped between two Red Guards on the balcony, slipped the hidden knives out of her sleeves, stabbing the man before they knew what was happening.
She and a Damsel in distress – she huffed at that.
As Porthos came rushing through the door, sword drawn, he found two Guards already down. It was almost too easy to struck down the other two with the pommel of his sword as he ushered Constance away.
He shot an apologetic gaze towards the Queen, only to see that she was – even if she was openly shocked – relieved. It was the King who was panicking, screaming like a little child as he was left defenceless without his Guards. But Porthos didn't spend a second on the childlike man. They were there to save their brother, not to send a whole country into a crisis.
So he ran after Constance, hurrying down the steps until they stood in the Courtyard.
A large part of the crowd had disappeared, only a few brave ones still were there as they wanted to know what would happen next.
While Constance and Porthos had made short work of the Guards on the balcony, Athos and d'Artagnan had swiftly dispatched the ones in the courtyard. Meanwhile Treville had ran towards the wheel, turning it into the opposite direction as it had been done before. Aramis moaned pitiful as his broken feet were released. Treville hushed some reassuring words to him but was not sure if the man really noticed that he was bound loose.
Constance had already run towards the gates, where they had secured their horses and lead them inside, now that there was no immediate danger to them. At least for now. They had to flee fast before more Guards would come.
Until now they had been lucky. The gathered Musketeers stood at the side, watching the proceedings with uncertainty. The King screamed at them to move – to kill the traitors. But they could – would not kill their First Minister, founder of the regiment, nor their current Captain or his brothers. And most importantly they would not be the reason Aramis died. So they did nothing, except for fidgeting nervously.
"Help me get him up." Treville ordered as he dragged a barely conscious Aramis towards a horse. Porthos was there immediately. He waited for Treville to mount, before pushing Aramis onto the beasts back. Treville made sure to hold on tight before galloping out of the Courtyard, knowing that the others would follow.
They rode as fast and hard as possible, forcing people to jump out of the way as the beasts raced through the narrow streets. It didn't take long for the first Red Guards to follow, shooting aimlessly at the riders.
D'Artagnan and Athos at the back turned around as best as possible, shooting back while Constance reloaded for them. Porthos was now in front of Treville and Aramis, making sure that no one would attack from the front.
….
It was at one of the many crossroads as Porthos was forced to stop his horse in a sickening severity, causing the poor animal almost too stumble. The beast whinnied and Porthos made a mental note to apologies to it later. But for now, there was nothing he could have done. Some Guards had cut off their path, blocking the way they had wanted to take to leave the city. The first were already shooting – but they were still too far away to be a real danger yet. He looked to the right and the left. If they rode right, they would come closer to the centre of the city – right where they did not wanted to go.
But the left path seemed so obvious. He cursed and then yanked at the reins, causing the horse to turn right. The others followed him without hesitation, trusting Porthos' instincts and knowledge of the streets enough.
He pushed his horse further and further, making a few hard turns to take some secret paths that would lead them back to the gates of the city, as he heard the doomed shout of Athos.
"They're coming too close!"
And he was right. As Porthos turned his head, he saw the Red Guards dangerous close to Athos and d'Artagnan, who had fallen behind a bit. They could not ride as fast as Porthos and fight at the same moment.
"We split up!" Porthos decided and nodded towards Treville his encouragement. The older man seemed uncertain, not wanting to leave his men behind. But he had some precious charge and everything would have been for nothing if Aramis was taken back by the Guards. So Treville spurred his horse further, passing Porthos. On Porthos order, Constance followed on Treville's heels.
"We can't kill them all." D'Artagnan suddenly stated, before sending another bullet through a man's chest. And he was right. They were just too many. Moreover, they weren't the true enemy and they didn't want to massacre innocent soldiers.
"We just have to distract them long enough and then flee unnoticed." Porthos argued, turning his horse into the opposite direction as Treville had rode.
Athos and d'Artagnan followed him, only shooting once in a while when a Guard would come too close.
"And how are we supposed to do it?" Athos asked over the sound of bullets, his head ducked so it would not be such an easy target.
Porthos only grinned, urging his horse to be a little bit faster. He had recognized a familiar bakery and knew that they weren't far away from his destination.
Once the first half-build houses appeared, Athos and d'Artagnan also understood what he was planning to do. Porthos was leading them into the Court of Miracles.
The moment they were in there, earning curious glances from it's habitants Porthos pointed behind him.
"Red Guards are coming. Want to take the whole place apart." He warned, acting a little panicked to have the wanted reaction.
The three men rode off as fast as they had come, searching their way through the narrow streets of the Court. They did not see the Red Guards being attacked by the residents, but they did hear the shouts and screams, grinning.