December Desolation Chapter 3

A/N: Hey guys sorry for the delay but this was a very difficult chapter to write! Enjoy :D

"My loyal Musketeers! How pleasant it is for you to see me today"

Athos' shoulders visibly tightened at the booming voice of the King, Porthos barely managing to hide a grimace at the vain man.

"Your Majesty" the three musketeers chorused, executing stiff bows in a parody of respect and removing their hats.

"Now, now, stand up" the familiar toothy grin appeared as Louis gestured grandly with one hand "I wish to take a walk in the grounds and require protection, come."

Barely withholding sighs of exasperation Athos, Porthos and D'artagnan did as they were told and followed the practically prancing King as he made his way around the grounds, weapons clanking rhythmically against their sides.

It was a typical December morning in Paris, mist furling around the intricately shaped topiary in the grounds, a biting chill to the wind nipping at their faces. The sky was an attractive grey with imposing clouds threatening a snowfall in the near future, as if on cue soft flakes began to drift leisurely through the air.

"Why on Gods good Earth would the King wish to take a walk in the grounds in weather like this?" Porthos spat bitterly, rubbing harshly at a suddenly runny nose.

"He is the King" Athos responded dryly, the familiar eyebrow rising in a show of his amusement.

"Stop, you're doing it again" D'artagnan butted in

Athos leapt away from his companion with an undignified squeak of surprise, having felt a sharp jab in his side. Brows drawn together in a frown, he gave a dark glare at the youngest of their group.

"You poked me" he drawled, "for what reason exactly?"

"You were doing the eyebrow thing again, and I can hear your thoughts from over here" D'artagnan laughed

"You could..." the rest of Athos' response was lost as the booming voice of the King cut into their conversation

"Where is the other one of you?" a note of confusion was evident in Louis' voice, "the religious one, Aramis isn't it?

Dark looks stole across their faces at the mention of Aramis, "I am both surprised and honoured that you would remember humble musketeers such as ourselves"

Louis flapped a hand nonchalantly through the air, "I liked that one, amusing. Where is he?"

"Unavailable i'm afraid" Athos replied respectfully, bowing once more.

Upon receiving that news, the King gave a very unmajestic shrug and carried on down the path basking in admiration from his many servants.

Left in the wake of the whirlwind also known as the King, Athos, Porthos and D'artagnan shook their heads exasperatedly in an attempt to recover their wits.

"Do you think we are being too harsh on Aramis?" Porthos began hesitantly with a slight wince, "it doesn't feel right bein ere without him"

A creaking of leather split the awkward silence between them as Athos clenched his fists within his gloves, pace faltering momentarily. D'artagnan's reaction was even more telling as he whirled sharply to face Porthos, blue cloak flapping with the disturbance.

"How could you even ask that?" he exclaimed disbelievingly, almost spitting the words in his anger and haste "Athos could have died!"

"So could Aramis" Porthos roared back, swiping a hand through the air to emphasise his point, "okay he made a mistake, but we all do!"

A muscle jumped in Athos' jaw as he listened to his brothers fighting, analysing the details of that fateful day as he turned the events over and over in his head.

Heads aching the four men made their way agonisingly slowly down the forest path, the easy chatter wiped out by the frigid cold that gripped them, teeth chattering loudly. After having spent four long days on the road it was no wonder that they were beginning to falter, bodies aching in the saddle, stomachs growling loudly protesting it's neglect.

The Comte's house had been comfortable in its warmth and Athos silently yearned for that blessed heat just for a few moments longer, although he mused he could do without the company of said Comte himself.

As Comte's are wont to be, this man had too much money and not enough to do with it, so he threw it around without a care in the world. It had been an uncomfortable reminder of his own days as part of the aristocracy, starving men would slave away in the fields as his father consumed copious amounts of meat and wine.

His brother had always hated the way they acted and frequently stole away with baskets of food for their tenants, dragging his beloved elder brother with him and larking about in the fields. A miniscule smile tugged at his lips, as per usual when Thomas was involved the memories bittersweet.

"Athos, don't you think this was too easy" D'artagnan spoke up from in front, twisting in the saddle "why would four musketeers be needed if the documents weren't important?"

"Be thankful that the mission hasn't been too trying, rather than bemoaning the lack of trouble" Athos smirked, "after a few years all the excitement can get rather... boring"

Porthos snorted loudly and turned to nudge Aramis in the side, startling at the empty space beside him usually filled with the presence of his brother. Glancing behind him he spotted the smaller man plodding along a few feet behind the rest of them, head of curly hair bowed low and almost touching the saddle as he drooped with fatigue.

Aramis lagged behind the group, caught up within his own thoughts. The snow on the ground and the chill in the air biting at his fingers was too harsh a reminder of Savoy, with every blink another body appeared before his eyes, red leaking out and staining the snow. It was at times like these that he hated himself, hated the weakness that resided within him what good was he as a soldier if he couldn't even handle a little bit of snow? It had been quite a few months, at least eight since he had last had an episode about Savoy and logically he knew that it was about time that another came along but it still rankled.

A shot rang out deafeningly loud in the blanketing silence of the snowy roads. All four horses startled, whinnying loudly in panic hooves flying wildly through the air as they bucked frantically. A short cry of panic sounded followed by a quiet whump as Aramis hit the ground, horse bolting away into the trees as the others managed to calm their mounts and circle towards the threat.

"AMBUSH" Athos roared, sword already pulled from its sheath and held ready "Aramis get up!"

Suddenly the trees were alive with movement, men in bandit masks pouring from cover with swords and pistols raised. Garbled cries of aggression filled the air as sword clashed with sword, men dropping like flies as the battle raged on.

Aramis lay on his side in the snow, head fuzzy and muddled as he listened to the distant sound of a fight. That's strange he thought, there shouldn't be any fighting they were all killed in their sleep, and Marsac... His thoughts trailed off, head too confused to think anymore as he slowly rolled to his side pain lancing through his leg from an unknown injury.

"Aramis!" came a panicked shout and he blinked dazedly upwards in time to see a sword rushing towards his head, he rolled to the left at the last second and breathed a sigh of relief before lunging into action.

His pistols were a comforting weight in his hands, offering some measly means of protection in this frigid wasteland, his usual perfect aim coming into play once more as he took down two of the bandits with a clean shot to the chest. The bang and recoil of the pistols jerked him back into awareness in time to see the bandit standing above a prone Athos, sword poised to deliver the killing blow while his brother lay unaware after a harsh blow to the head with the pommel of a sword.

A chill lanced down his spine as he realised he had already spent his two bullets and by the time he reloaded Athos would be dead. Desperately he yanked his sword from its sheath and felt his stomach drop as he realised that he was never going to make it in time, his legs wouldn't respond merely trembling as he tried to get them to take his weight. As a last ditch attempt to save the life of his beloved brother, he unsheathed his main gauche and flung it with as much force as he could towards the attackers chest.

The sickening thud that accompanied metal sinking into flesh was enough to turn even the strongest mans stomach and Aramis swallowed harshly against the nausea surging against the back of his throat, the sound bringing up pictures of slit throats.

Struggling clumsily to his feet, leg threatening to collapse as he finally registered the pain shooting through it, between the three of them they managed to haul a compliant Athos upright and lean him against a tree.

"We'll go on then" Porthos grunted at Aramis, gesturing towards their fallen brother "do your medical thing"

Aramis turned confused, distant eyes on his friends, blinking when D'artagnan snapped his fingers in front of his face " Earth to Aramis"

"Right" he muttered and sluggishly made his way across the muddy floor.

Gently he probed around the back of Athos' head, fingers searching out a bump he was certain was there. He was rewarded moments later when his fingers pressed against a matted clump of hair, sticky with blood and swelling into a massive lump and his brother groaning and flinching away from his hands.

"He'll be fine" Aramis sighed gratefully "it's just a bump, there is a cut but it won't need the needle. After a rest he should be fine to ride"

Porthos and D'artagnan let out the breath that they had been holding in unison, the rush of air manifesting itself as a white cloud in the frigid air. "Well it's too damn cold to stay here, can we ride straight away?"

"Yes" his answer was short and clipped, struggling to keep a whimper of pain from escaping along with his words.

He began to gently tap Athos on the cheek, calling his name softly "time to wake up 'Thos", the man began to groan and blinked blearily as the ground began to tilt beneath him and the world spin sickeningly.

"Oh God, how much did I drink last night?" Athos asked incredulously at the pounding in his skull, hand rising to massage his temples.

Porthos snorted with laughter "Nah, you had an unfortunate run in with the butt of a pistol"

"I hate it when that happens" a slight lift of an eyebrow signalled their brothers amusement and readiness to stand up and with the assistance of D'artagnan and Porthos' hands under his armpits he was soon vertical, swaying slightly on his feet.

Aramis gazed blankly at his brothers as they moved away from him and mounted their horses, chatting easily about the battle they had just survived "I'm tellin ya" Porthos bragged "I got five"

A sharp knife was suddenly pressed to his neck as he sat stunned on the ground "make one move and you die" a gravelly voice croaked in his ear one hand reaching up to thread itself cruelly in his hair, tugging it back and pressing the knife in further until a trail of blood made its way down his neck from a shallow cut. "Now, signal your friends and you won't die"

"Athos" Aramis called weakly, swallowing harshly against the sudden dryness in the back of his throat he repeated the call louder "ATHOS"

Finally his friends spun their horses around and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the track, shocked to find that one of their attackers hadn't been as dead as they had previously thought and had taken Aramis hostage.

"What do you want?" Athos drawled slowly

"The letter, give it to me and pretty boy here will live" he growled, digging the knife further into soft flesh. Aramis clenched his eyes tightly shut in fear as images of hundreds of his brothers, their throats cut in their sleep began to flood his mind setting his limbs trembling. Not even bothering to attempt escape as he normally would do, he merely sat placidly and waited for the end that had been coming for him since that night in Savoy.

A gunshot rang in his ears, bringing him back to the present as the knife fell from his neck and the man behind him fell with a thud to the ground behind him, a hole in his neck bleeding freely. A smoking pistol hung limply from D'artagnans' fingers, all aware of how close the shot had come to piercing their friends neck.

"Well come on then" Athos ordered Aramis, spurring on his horse and beginning to ride off towards Paris. "I can't believe you just sat there" Porthos scoffed in disbelief before following their Captain and D'artagnan just shot him a look of disgust and then leaving too.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, Aramis' head drooping lower and lower as pain and fatigue caught up with him and his friends continued to ignore him.

"Something wasn't right with him" Athos murmured softly on reflection casting silence upon the feuding brothers.

"So you agree" Porthos cried, "we were too harsh!"

"What do you mean something wasn't right?" D'artagnan asked in confusion.

"He was too quiet, and Aramis always fights back. The only time I have ever seen him that distracted was after..." Athos trailed off, eyes widening in shock and realisation "Savoy" he whispered.

"We have to get back"

As one they turned and sprinted back to the Garrison, running as fast as they could to reach their forsaken brother and put right what they had done wrong.

A/N: Well I have to say this is the longest chapter that I have EVER written. Its got a bit too much dialogue for my liking and i'm not too happy with it but I hope you enjoy it all the same! Next chapter we get to see the reunion of the boys yay! Let me know what you guys think, and let me know if you think the altercation between the boys was realistic :D