Authors note: Thanks for the continued great comments. You're all going to hate me at the end of this…

The look on Porthos' face and the slight shake of the head was all that Athos needed to tell him to stand down. There was nothing he could do at that instant. He watched as Du Froid directed his four men to escort Porthos, and drag the unconscious Aramis, to an area at the edge of their camp. The area they would be executed. One of the cadets helping Firmin was dispatched to collect manacles for the two condemned men.

'There is only one man that can put a stop to this debacle,' said the old doctor to Athos as the General's barked orders could be heard in the distance.

Athos nodded slowly, 'I just hope I can get to him before Du Froid carries out his plan.'

'Go,' said Firmin, 'd'Artagnan is in the best care he can be for now. And I know he would want you to help your friends.'

Athos looked down at the unconscious Musketeer. D'Artagnan looked young. He always looked younger when he was injured or vulnerable.

'Do you know where-'

Athos had not finished his question before Firmin responded.

'There's a farmhouse a mile away, to the east. It is still in good condition. He's staying there and your Captain is with him.'

Athos did not wait; he took off at a steady run in the direction the doctor had indicated.

It was not uncommon for the monarch to go to war. Some Kings would fight, although that was generally frowned upon by the ministers and generals. They did not want the King to be injured, or directly involved, in the decision-making. Most ministers and generals were experts at making suggestions to their King in such a way that when the King took the idea and made it his everyone could be impressed.

King Louis was the sort of monarch who wanted to be in the action but did not want to get his hands dirty. He would loiter on the fringes of the fighting and give the illusion of solidarity with his men. In reality, he was being treated as he would be in one of his grand palaces. He had a small group of servants, his chef and close ministers at his side at all times.

As the farmhouse came into view Athos took in the surroundings. Good visibility all around but at the same time, there was nothing to indicate the King of France was residing in the small abode. The house was small by the King's standards. Athos suspected only the King, his closest minister, and his valet were sleeping in the house. Guards and servants would be sheltering in the barn and stable at the side of the building.

The day was warm, meaning a shelter had been erected at the front of the house to provide the monarch with shade as he conducted the business of war. The King was sitting at a large table, wine glass in hand, a fruit bowl at his elbow and a bored expression on his face. Athos expected the man already wished to return to his palaces in Paris.

Athos doubted he would be able to get the King to listen to him, but he knew Captain Treville would make sure his voice was heard. As he neared the farmhouse, he nodded a greeting to a couple of cadets who were making rough circuits of the area. He saluted another garrison's Captain and proceeded towards Treville. His Captain was talking with a couple of the more sensible ministers a few yards from where the King was sitting. The King was pretending to look at a map of the area.

Treville looked up at Athos and immediately paused his conversation with the ministers who were not bothered by the interruption. The men knew that things changed quickly during a battle and updates were frequently being delivered. Athos hoped his news would not annoy the two men. He hoped they would not see it as a frivolous distraction to the bigger issue of the battle.

'Captain,' said Athos with respect.

'Last I heard, you and the others were on the other side of the battlefield trying to liberate a spy.'

'We were too late to save the man's life, Captain. He passed his information onto d'Artagnan.'

Treville's eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. He had already worked out there were problems. Athos told his Captain everything. He did not omit any details. He knew there was no point trying to deny that Porthos had been insubordinate and gone against a direct order. But Athos did make it clear that Du Froid did not listen to their suggestions for d'Artagnan to pass on the intelligence to each of them in case anything happened to him. He made it clear that Du Froid insisted they take the most dangerous route back to the safety of their camp. And he made it clear that Du Froid caused d'Artagnan more harm to get him to talk when he was on the verge of collapse from his injury.

'I have never been a fan of Du Froid,' said the King from behind them.

Athos and Treville both turned and bowed respectfully. The King waved indicating for them to stand at ease. He slipped out of his chair and walked up to them. He looked Athos up and down, taking in his dishevelled appearance. The King seemed to approve.

'Do you believe him capable of executing two soldiers without a proper hearing?'

Both Treville and Athos nodded.

'Then you should work fast,' replied the King as he returned to his table.

He pulled a fresh sheet of paper from a stack and dipped a quill into an ink pot. Athos watched with confusion as the King wrote a couple of lines at the bottom of the paper and signed it before using his sealing wax and seal to mark the page. He handed the paper to Treville and pushed the quill and ink towards him.

'Write whatever you need to write. It is signed by the King. If Du Froid goes against my order, regardless of what that order is, he will be accused of treason. I am not entirely happy with your man going against a direct order, but I do not approve of his and the others' treatment by my General.'

Treville wasted no time writing a few lines on the paper, being careful not to smudge the King's signature and seal.

'Now go, I want my men released and recuperating. They should be resting before returning to battle.'

Treville looked to Athos who nodded. The quick turn of events was better than he could have hoped. For once he was glad the King was there and that he was bored and not paying attention to the people who were talking to him. His eavesdropping might save Porthos, and Aramis' lives.

But only if Athos and Treville were quick.

MMMM

Porthos tugged at the chain that linked his manacled wrists. He had been forced to stand with his back to a stout tree trunk. The chain was wrapped around the trunk behind him. There was enough slack to rest his hands on his lap after he sat on the floor. He saw no point in remaining standing. He did not know how long he would have to wait for Du Froid to assemble his firing squad. He remembered being pressed into the same duty once and wanting to protest and refuse. Porthos knew it was unlikely any of his executioners were going to relish the job of taking the life of men on their side.

Aramis was leaning on a trunk next to him. He was restrained similarly. Porthos thought Aramis was conscious, but his friend was slumped slightly to the side and facing away from him. Perhaps Aramis lacked the strength to push himself up straight. Perhaps he lacked the will to do so.

Porthos was responsible for both their fates. He was the one that had insisted on staying to help Aramis. Then Aramis, who was delusional, had defended him and earned himself a spot before the same firing squad.

Du Froid left one man to watch them and took the other three off to help persuade soldiers to join the squad. When Du Froid had enough men, he would return.

Porthos did not expect him to take long.

He looked at the man that was left guarding them. He was young. He had probably not long had his commission. The pale youth already looked battle shocked. And now he was to assist in the killing of two men. Men, he would have the opportunity to look in the eyes as he pulled the trigger.

'Help d'Artagnan.'

Porthos sighed as he heard the mumbled words from Aramis. He wondered if Aramis would remain confused and delusional. He wondered if that would be a good thing. Aramis might not even know he was about to be executed. He might not get to feel the fear of knowing he was about to take his last breath. He might not get the chance to lay blame at Porthos' door.

Not that Aramis would blame him. Porthos knew that.

If Aramis was focused, he would be telling Porthos not to take the blame. That he was the one that spoke out of turn effectively signing his own death warrant.

The man to blame was the general. He was the real delusional man. And because of him, two soldiers were to die unnecessarily and a third had been injured. Porthos hoped d'Artagnan recovered. Without Aramis' aid on the battlefield, there would have been no chance for the young Musketeer. Athos would look after their friend. Although Athos still had to keep his head down. He was also not one of the General's favourites. The threat of a lashing was very real. Porthos hoped Athos did not add any more fuel to that line of thought for the General.

'Leave me.'

Porthos glanced at Aramis who had managed to twist himself to sit straighter. He was looking ahead talking to someone who was not there. Porthos wondered if Aramis would survive much longer even if they were not being executed. The wound on his side was no longer bleeding but the surgeon's hard work might have been too late.

Du Froid's voice cut through the general noise of the camp. Porthos knew his time was coming to an end. He always knew he would not reach a ripe old age, but he had never expected to die at the hand of his side. There was to be no glorious death on the battlefield for him. His remains might not even be buried. He might be left where he fell, food for crows.

A group of eight men, including the guards that had arrested them, were walking in formation towards Porthos and Aramis. Du Froid was at the head of the execution party. His expression was both serious and smug at the same time. As though he was about to partake in a great moment in the battle.

'It's not your fault, Porthos,' said Aramis, his voice weak. 'I could have stayed quiet.'

Porthos could see that Aramis was focused again. His friend knew what was about to happen and remembered how it had come about.

'You've never been able to stay quiet, my friend,' replied Porthos.

Aramis managed a faint smile. They maintained eye contact for a few seconds before looking towards their executioner.

The End

Whumpee: Aramis and d'Artagnan. Featuring: Porthos, Athos and Treville.

Authors note: It's Whumptober…not Gettingsavedtober. Mwah, ha, ha, haa. ;-) Athos and Treville will probably get there in time.