December Desolation Chapter 4
A/N: Thankyou guys for all your reviews, thanks to GingietheSnap for reminding me that I hadn't addressed the guard duty issue! :D
King Louis stood, mouth agape in the middle of the path as his three musketeers ran away from the palace, "I didn't dismiss them" he muttered in confusion a dark frown marring his face.
"I didn't dismiss you!" he shouted at their retreating backs, waving a fist in the air before turning to his bemused servants and reiterating sadly "I had not dismissed them".
"Sire, we should return to the palace I am afraid without guards it is too dangerous" a servant tremulously stated, fearing for his life in the face of royal wrath.
"Oh fine!", with a stomp of his foot the King stormed back to the palace moodily, trailing a posse of terrified servants behind him twitching at every tiny noise the King emitted.
Captain Treville hurried down the steps from his office, boots clicking loudly on the wooden steps in his hurry to reach Serge in the kitchens. Men rushed noisily around the yard attempting to complete the jobs given to them by the Captain that very morning, horses whickering in the stables as the stable boys tacked up the horses ready for duty.
"Captain?" a voice called as a tall blonde haired man strode across the courtyard with purposeful strides, "is everything alright?"
"Ah Etienne!" Treville exclaimed with a sigh of relief, running a nervous hand through his hair and clasping the hilt of his sword in one sweaty palm. "I need your help, Aramis is unwell and I am reluctant to leave him alone for too long a stretch of time. Will you sit with him whilst I fetch some cloths and water?"
A concerned frown immediately marred Etienne's face, "of course, I hope it's nothing serious! It was impossible to miss the odd atmosphere between them this morning."
It had been a while since he had last spoken with Aramis what with him being a part of the inseparables and only ever going on missions with each other, after the incident at Savoy he had felt sympathy for Aramis having lost his own brother in arms to the massacre.
He remembered the day Aramis had stumbled into the Garrison, clothes muddy and torn with a face that would have looked more appropriate on a corpse. The facial hair that he laboured intensively over nowadays was a chaotic bush with chapped lips barely visible, highlighting the ghastly black shadows beneath glazed unseeing eyes.
He had in short, looked like a dead man walking.
As one the men parted ways, Treville carrying on to see Serge and Etienne hurrying up the stairs to attend to Aramis. Cracking open the door of Aramis' room as quietly as he could, he tentatively took a couple of steps into the dark room, grimacing at the dank smell of sickness that permeated the air.
Shaking his head in despair he settled himself down into the hard backed chair beside the cot, tears glistened in his eyes as he took in the sorry sight before him.
In his opinion Aramis looked in a much worse condition now than he had done both after Savoy and when he had first joined the Musketeers, the most surprising aspect of this situation was the absence of the other three inseparables.
Before his hand was even close to coming into contact with his brothers forehead he could feel the heat emanating in waves from his skin, he cursed loudly as he searched for a reason for the fever ravaging his body.
Aramis tossed weakly as hands began prodding at him and he moaned in aggravation, flapping in frustration as cold air attacked him.
"Shhh, it's alright Mis" Etienne soothed, catching his hands before they smashed into his nose "calm down"
His eyes finally settled upon a dark stain that was slowly growing on the sheet of the bed and he cursed, paling as he realised that the coppery smell of blood was leaking from a gunshot wound in Aramis' thigh.
"How on Earth did no one notice this!" he exclaimed, threading his fingers with the Spaniards to provide some comfort to his prone brother while his other hand was occupied with applying pressure to the wound. "Don't worry, Treville will be back soon."
"Serge?" Treville called as he stepped into the kitchen, "I need towels and cold water, and also some brandy for good measure"
Peering short sightedly into the darkness, he carefully manoeuvred his way around the worktops and chairs towards the back room.
"Wha can I do for ya Captain?" Serge bellowed happily as he bustled towards Treville, wiping his hands roughly on a towel.
"Aramis is feverish, we need towels, water and brandy" Treville repeated with a clipped tone, already beginning to search out a bowl for himself unable to restrain the nervous energy coursing through him.
"Absolutely, poor lad" Serge replied sadly "can he never catch a break? When he first appeared at the gates of the Garrison, Savoy and now this"
Moments later both men were clambering back up the Garrison steps, a light thumping accompanying Serge's uneven footsteps as the older man limped heavily.
Loud shouting and thundering footsteps drew all attention to the commotion at the gates where a crowd of Musketeers had paused in their duties to stare out at the street beyond, their signature blue cloaks creating a sea of throbbing colour as they shifted in anticipation of the coming altercation.
Three flustered men ran through the crowds parting the throng of people as easily as a hot knife through butter before being spat out onto the other side, bending at the waist and resting hands on knees as they panted and wheezed for breath after their mad dash from the palace.
Athos held a hand up and gasped out "just... give us... a moment... please"
Laughter bounced around as the men chuckled brightly at the actions of their brothers, it was not often that one was given the opportunity to see any of the inseparables looking less than immaculate.
Whilst his men were distracted by the spectacle Treville scoffed in disgust, spun neatly on his heel and once again began his trip to his ailing mans room, his pace faltering momentarily as a voice cried out to him.
"Captain" Athos shouted from below, stretching a hand clad in leather gloves up towards Treville, "Captain, please!"
His hand fell uselessly to his side with a muted slap, leather meeting leather, as he watched the retreating back of his Captain, breath leaving his lungs in a whoosh as the man he respected almost as a second father deserted him and displayed his displeasure quite clearly with his rigid shoulders.
"Whas wrong with im then?" Porthos gasped in confusion, chest heaving with each breath, eyes fixed on their retreating Captain.
"I have a feeling that we are not in his good books over Aramis" Athos responded dryly with an abortive hand gesture as the three moved unanimously towards their quarters in a desperate bid to reach their fallen brother.
A/N: Sorry that this is so short and kind of seems to be a bit of a filler chapter. Next chapter all of the drama will kick off with medical drama and reunions, yay! Let me know what you think please and thanks so much for all your lovely reviews! They really inspire me to carry on writing for you all :D
