Note: Quote is from Lorde's version of "Everybody Wants to Rule the World".
Chapter Eight
Help me make the most of freedom
And of pleasure
Nothing ever lasts forever
The fallen guard did not follow the two musketeers into the trees. Still, Athos wanted to press on. Aramis was desperate to stop. His hand fisted in the mane of his horse, he grew pale and snatched at the air with his breath. But Athos was wary of their tracks being followed… More guards would come. They would find their dead friends in the house and follow the churned dirt until they reached the trees…
Athos led them through a small stream, hoping their tracks would be lost beneath running water. Eventually he set upon a trail that wound along the bottom edge of a cliff face. The weathered stone reached high above the tree boughs, Aramis couldn't see all the way to the top. He imagined it going on forever… a wall all the way up to heaven. He couldn't see because they were surrounded by evergreens, the only trees in the wood with a bit of colour and shelter. Dead leaves littered the earth beneath all the others. A weak mist clung to the ground with winter's pale sunlight unable to burn it away. There was a change to the air, a fresh crispness that winter brought with it, but the dank rot of autumn's leaves seemed to linger under the trees. It would not last long. Everything would freeze, and snow would come to cover the world in a white shroud, putting nature's dead to rest.
Aramis watched Athos ride ahead, the tendrils of mist curling about him. There was a stillness to the musketeer. Even as the world moved around him he was motionless. The trees were at the mercy of the wind, and Henri shook his head and snorted. But Athos was still. He seemed to be an oil painting escaped from the canvas. He had always been quiet and given over to inward reflection, but this was something different. Athos was not a part of this world, it touched him, but never changed him. The wind would blow and Athos remained. He was immovable as the cliff face they walked alongside.
It was perhaps here that Aramis felt Porthos' loss most keenly. There is a time for grieving, but it is the moments after that truly hurt the most. The times you fall into old habits and reach for a hand that is no longer there. Aramis turned to speak to Porthos as he usually would when Athos fell into himself. But there was nothing but the quiet of the wood. The young musketeer's face fell on realising… the hollow at his heart seemed to deepen.
Eventually Aramis felt a strange lightheadedness come upon him. He listed to one side, pulling on Storm's mane. "Athos…"
At hearing his name Athos looked over his shoulder and saw Aramis struggling to keep his balance. He turned Henri about and came to support his friend.
"Alright, we'll stop now. It'll be getting dark soon anyway. Let me get you down."
Aramis was too relieved to object to Athos handling him like a child. They moved off the trail, secured the horses and settled down beneath a cluster of evergreens. The branches entangled and entwined above their heads offering a little shelter. As they bedded down Athos handed Aramis a few bits of food and enquired after his injuries. Naturally the young musketeer insisted he was alright. He fended off any attempts at an examination and claimed he was just tired… As if to prove the point Aramis fell asleep moments later.
It was a relatively peaceful night. Aramis only woke once in a panic, reaching for his weapons, thinking they were under attack. He shouted out for Porthos then gasped after turning too quickly and wrenching his ribs. Athos' hands were on him moments later, urging him to lie down and go back to sleep. He wouldn't remember it the next day. It seemed nothing more than a dream…
A rumbling through the ground woke Aramis come morning. It took his fractured mind a moment to realise he recognised it… horses. He looked around for Athos and his heart lurched on finding he was alone with Storm.
"Athos?" The young musketeer hissed, hoping his friend was within earshot.
But there was no reply.
Aramis got to his feet and stumbled over to the horse, his aching body protested, but he had to get to a weapon. Riders were coming. They had left everything packed away, only taking out blankets to sleep on. After fishing around Aramis pulled out his pistol, he swore as he tried loading a ball. One hand shook while the fingers of his other were stiff with disuse. Finally he had it ready just as the sound of a rider approaching reached his ears. There was a crunch of dead leaves as they dismounted… Aramis swung the gun around and found he had it levelled at Athos' chest. Athos stopped dead and raised both his hands, at which point the young musketeer near enough collapsed with relief. Delicately Athos stepped forwards to take the pistol from his friend's lax grip.
"There are riders on the trail… musketeers." Athos looked near devastated as he spat the word out. "They will pass soon. Once they've gone we must leave."
But there was something else. Athos seemed personally offended… almost hurt. He knew musketeers were after them, what could have led to his composure slipping so?
"What is it? What's wrong?" Aramis frowned and put a hand to Athos' arm, stopping the older musketeer as he checked their bags over.
Athos gave him a dark look before reluctantly giving in. "Treville… I saw Treville with them."
Aramis' face fell at hearing that news. "Maybe we can talk to him… reason with him."
"No... Not while he's with the others anyway. All we can do is run. Let's get you mounted."
They sat concealed in the trees with bated breath. Shouts between the soldiers reached the two musketeers and then the main force went by at a steady pace with their eager horses snorting and shaking their heads. Aramis felt he would be given away by the thundering beat of his heart. It seemed loud enough to drown out all else. He willed his horse to keep quiet… A few stragglers cantered past, and then quiet returned to the wood. A bird called out as if declaring it all clear.
Still, Athos waited a few moments more before deeming it safe. When a few more birds joined in with the chorus he released a heavy breath... "Lets go."
Gingerly they walked their horses out on to the trail and set off in the opposite direction. They had not been riding for long when they turned a corner and stopped dead. A musketeer faced them, little more than a boy… His name escaped Aramis, but Athos seemed to know him.
"Marius." Athos gasped, seeming surprised.
The boy drew out his pistol and pointed it at Athos. "I can't let you go. Not again!"
"As I recall you didn't exactly let us go last time... We lost Porthos." There was a dangerous edge to Athos' voice.
"I swear to you I didn't know Andre was listening to us… I didn't tell him a thing."
Aramis frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Marius was meant to help us escape, but his friend Andre overheard our little plan, and that is how we met with an ambush." Though he spoke to Aramis Athos didn't take his eyes from the boy.
"Andre is not my friend." Marius protested.
"If you say so… Let us go freely and you can consider yourself forgiven."
Athos walked his horse forwards and Marius raised his pistol a little higher.
"Don't make me do this… Please". The pistol started to shake.
"You're the one with the gun Marius. The choice to shoot or not is yours." Athos' voice was disturbingly calm, as ever. "Aramis and I are going to continue on our way. Do what you will."
Athos gave a nod to Aramis and the young musketeer followed, giving Marius a curious look as he passed by. They continued along the path some way before the boy's voice rang out.
"Stop! Or I shoot!"
Athos spoke under his breath so only Aramis could hear. "He won't shoot. I warrant he's never taken a life before. The boy probably got into the regiment thanks to a well placed word from well bred parents. Shooting at targets is very different from shooting a man. He won't do it".
The sudden crack of gunfire startled a flock of birds from the trees.
"Aramis!"
Storm let out a distressed cry and dropped as the ball struck his haunch. Aramis fell from his back and yelled as he hit the ground. Like any horseman he had fallen many times and had learnt to roll with it. The impact jarred his ribs, but there was no serious damage done. Aramis clutched at his side and sucked in a harsh breath as Athos turned the air blue with a series of curses levelled at Marius. The boy lingered a moment, unsure of himself, before riding off after the other musketeers.
"Aramis! Are you alright?"
When finally he had enough breath to speak Aramis assured Athos he was still in one piece. But Storm was not… Aramis got to his feet and stumbled over to the stricken horse. He was staggering and trying to gain his feet, but at every attempt he fell back.
Aramis ran a gentle hand along his neck. "Lay still boy, let me see…"
"Leave him. Henri can carry us both as he did before." Athos held a hand out to Aramis.
But the young musketeer stalled. He had the sudden thought that d'Artagnan would be upset with him for losing his horse.
"Aramis, there's nothing you can do. That shot will have alerted the regiment and Marius is on his way to lead them back here. We have to go now."
"Can't keep losing things…" Aramis whispered under his breath, half in a daze.
There was the sound of feet hitting the ground and the next thing he knew Athos's hands were pulling him away towards Henri.
"Wait! My bag!" Aramis pushed back at Athos and tried to struggle out of his grip.
"I've got your weapons, there's nothing else you need! We have no time!"
Aramis broke free and dashed to his saddle bag. He fished out Tilda's small wooden horse and lingered only to stroke Storm's soft muzzle… The horse lowered his head to the ground and heaved a pained sigh. The young musketeer whispered "I'm sorry..."
Athos had him on Henri's back a moment later and they took off to the sound of thundering hooves behind. With the cliff face to the left, trees rushed past on their right. They were not careful in their flight. Stray branches reached out to scratch their clothes and lash their cheeks. Henri blew hard as he ran as fast as he could on uneven ground with two riders... The regiment was drawing close.
Suddenly the trees gave way to fresh air and the hills lay before them. Athos reined Henri in a little lest he trip and send them crashing to the ground. The sky was dark with gathering clouds. An oppressive feeling hung in the air... a storm was surely imminent. Henri made his way carefully through the rock protrusions, just as the rest of the musketeers burst from the tree line. Their horses snorted and tossed their heads, caught up in the pursuit and eager to run as they were. It would have been an impressive sight under any other circumstance. As it was the gallant line of soldiers were nothing but heralds of doom to the fleeing musketeers. Athos risked a look over his shoulder while Aramis kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. As soon as they hit flat ground Athos urged Henri on. Still, he swore under his breath, Aramis knew as well as he did that it would be near impossible to outrun the others with two riders on one horse. The flat ground would just let them catch up…
The heavens opened as Henri leapt forwards, giving all he had. The rain started slowly with heavy drops but soon it was lashing down in sheets. Aramis felt soaked through to the bone in seconds. But it helped… Men cried out behind them. The shouts were barely audible over the relentless hiss of the rain, but it sounded like the rocks had claimed a few victims with the wet ground and overeager horses. Henri spooked a little as a flash of lightning split the sky, but he kept on going. A crash of thunder followed after and the beast of a horse hardly flinched.
With rain in his eyes Aramis couldn't see a thing. The horizon was lost to him, they were just charging into oblivion. When it became too much he tried to shield his eyes behind Athos' shoulder. His arms wrapped tight around Athos' chest… There he could feel breath as frantic as his own. It hurt, but adrenaline took the worst of the pain away, and what remained had to be put to one side for now. Pain was starting to become a constant companion Aramis was learning to live with, and preoccupied with living as he was it couldn't hold sway.
Suddenly Henri's hooves slipped and he came to a halt, near dancing on the spot with his spirits so high. Aramis tightened his grip on Athos and together they just managed to stay on. Before them stood a raging river. It did not look too wide, but the heavy rainfall had its banks straining. Displaced dirt and broken branches from upstream were swept away in the rapidly running water. They wouldn't stand a chance, Henri would not be able to keep his legs in that… Still, with the regiment bearing down on them he could near enough feel Athos calculating.
"We go in there and we die!" Aramis yelled over the roar of the weather.
"A bridge… there must be a bridge." Athos' voice was barely audible with the wind and the rain.
He set Henri dashing off alongside the river. Aramis tried to see how close the musketeers were, but it was near impossible to make anything out beneath the thick, rolling clouds and pouring rain. He was granted a glimpse when lightning illuminated the world for a fraction of a second. The figures of horsemen were seared into Aramis' eyes. It seemed for a moment that the biblical apocalypse had come. War, Famine, Pestilence and Death were charging along bringing a storm of reckoning. The end was near! But Aramis shook his head, reminding himself that nothing more than mortal man followed in their wake… Still, thunder rumbled through the clouds and the young musketeer heard it as heaven's wrath. Was this where it ended? Had everything since his indiscretion led to this moment? Aramis' sins were catching up with him… they were getting closer, borne on hooves in a storm. An inescapable reckoning was coming. Maybe he was ready to meet it. Aramis was half drowned, exhausted and in pain. He was so cold he could hardly feel his hands wrapped tight around Athos. Was it time to give in? Porthos was gone, his child was dead and home seemed a long forgotten memory. Everything was being taken away from him, he couldn't keep losing things… There wasn't much left to lose.
Jagged lightning split the sky once again and Athos gave a triumphant shout: "There it is! Just up ahead!"
Hearing Athos yell kindled a small spark of hope in Aramis' heart. There wasn't much left to lose, but what he had he wanted to hold on to. He still had Athos. Would he give his friend up so easily? The riders were closing in, and like a rabbit in snare Aramis felt the wire tighten around his neck. But he was not done fighting. He would struggle every step until the dark took hold and his spirit was torn free from his body.
Aramis had been so taken with the war in his heart he hadn't seen the bridge, but he saw it now, just as they were about to cross. And his heart quailed at the sight. It was a wooden construction, and it looked so fragile. It was hard to tell with the dark clouds and the lashing rain, but Aramis was sure he saw the bridge tremble as a branch crashed into its supports. It wouldn't take their weight. It would collapse!
"We won't make it!" Aramis shouted, but it was too late, Henri was going full tilt towards the bridge.
"We have to try!" Athos yelled back just as Henri's hooves clattered onto the wooden beams.
Aramis tightened his arms around Athos and held his breath. There was a reckless side to Athos he wasn't entirely sure he liked. It only came out in the most desperate of circumstances. Usually the older musketeer was stoic and steadfast to a fault - he was a picture of calm confidence, never without a plan or strategy. But when trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea a rare and terrifying side of him came to light. Recklessness was more Aramis' area of expertise, but even he would have baulked at crossing this bridge... Aramis couldn't breathe. This wasn't like the sickness that stole his breath before, this time his chest was seized with panic. He was waiting for the inevitable crunch and a crash... the water would steal his breath then.
It seemed he was destined to die. The river or the rope. What would it be?
But Aramis felt Henri's hooves touch down on solid ground and his breath shuddered out in relief. Neither would have him this day. When the crunch and the crash came it was one of Treville's men plunging into the icy water. Screams of man and horse were carried away on the wind. In a momentary pang of sorrow Aramis wondered if it had been any of their old friends. But old friends were falling fast these days it seemed.
A flash of lightning lit up the scene and Aramis thought he saw Treville on the other side of the bank, hunched against the rain, shouting orders. He didn't get another chance to look. They rode hard until the riders were lost and the river was far behind them.
Eventually the rain slowed and stopped, though the clouds took their time in moving on. The two musketeers started shivering hard and Henri settled into a walk, unable to go any faster. Aramis wiped the wet from his eyes and blinked hard at the horizon. The storm was clearing away, rumbles of thunder could still be heard fading in the distance. Around them the world was quiet, yet the air still felt charged and dangerous. Nothing made a sound. Everything had gone to ground and taken shelter, not even a bird breached the silence. Still, there was threat in the absence of sound. Sometimes quiet could be violent, Aramis mused… Just like Athos.
~oOo~
The two musketeers rode on, steering clear of roads and villages. But they were soaked through and frozen to the bone, even Henri dragged his feet. Aramis and Athos eventually took to their own feet, trying to save the horse. Athos trudged along with his reins in hand and Aramis struggled on with an arm wrapped around his aching chest.
"We should… find… an inn." Aramis' words stuttered between his chattering teeth.
"It's too… risky." Athos was similarly suffering.
"Worth the risk… I think. We'll freeze outside tonight… need to… get dry". Aramis coughed and winced.
They went back and forth for some time until their feet found a path and fate seemed to intervene. Before them, at a crossroads, there stood an inn. Still, they were wary… Athos handed Henri's reins to Aramis and went to take a look. He came back declaring it was near empty and there was no sign of any musketeers or guards. It seemed safe enough.
After leaving Henri with the stable boy the two musketeers made a beeline for the fire. They drew up a couple of chairs and made sure not to meet the eyes of any other travellers. Aramis gratefully rubbed some feeling back into his fingers. He frowned at watching Athos stare into the flames with abject misery. For himself he was taking pleasure in the little things - namely the fact they had survived and they were in front of a fire.
"What is the matter with you?" Aramis uttered under his breath.
Slowly Athos tore his gaze from the fire to Aramis. "It would perhaps be easier to tell you what isn't the matter."
"I know… but at least we aren't freezing to death out there any more."
"We might be soon. We can't stay here for the night without money for a room. Were you hoping they would just forget we're here?"
A dark look passed over Aramis' face, his eyes shot to the lady behind the bar and back. There was one way he could get a room without money. Athos would not approve.
"I'll get us a room." The young musketeer swiped a hand through his hair hoping to tame it a little. He must look like a drowned rat… This was a bad idea, but no worse than riding over a collapsing bridge.
When Aramis got to his feet Athos reached out for his arm, cottoning on to his plan. "Aramis, no…"
The young musketeer simply brushed him off and painted a smile on his face as he approached the bar. The woman was a bit older than he usually went for, and she was no oil painting, but needs must. Besides, he was pale, wet through, and quite gaunt himself. Aramis just hoped his charm still worked.
"Do you gentlemen want a drink or are you just admiring the scenery?" She snarked at him… This was not a good start.
Aramis tried to salvage the situation. "I would very much like to order a drink, some food, and a bed for the night too. Unfortunately we were set upon by bandits and all our money was stolen…" He gave her a look that would melt the hardest of hearts.
"Well… perhaps we can come to some other arrangement." Her eyes roved his body up and down, but she wasn't looking at what Aramis expected her to be looking at. "That's a pretty necklace you've got there. Worth a bit is it?"
The young musketeer raised a hand to the small, golden cross he wore and he shot back as if scalded. Aramis suddenly felt he was betraying Anne by doing this. It was ridiculous… they were not together, they could never be together… but he felt a strange sense of loyalty towards her. The young musketeer suspected Anne felt the same way. She had seemed a little jealous at seeing the cross around Ninon's neck. How jealous would she be at him bedding this woman? How shameful would she find it that he was selling himself for a room?
As he stood looking lost the woman broke into his thoughts. "Gone all shy have we? Let me guess, it's a token from some mistress? Well I'll not take that from you then… I've given a few of them in my time. Maybe you'll have something else pretty hanging around your neck soon." She gave him a coy smile.
Aramis swallowed hard, he couldn't think of Anne, not now… He smiled again, slipping the mask back in place. "The prettiest things I've seen in here are your eyes".
It wasn't his best, but he was a little out of practice.
She started to fiddle with a lock of her dirty blonde hair. "Oh you are a charmer, aren't you?"
"My name is Alexander… and who might you be?" He flashed an easy smile, but it no longer came easily.
The barmaid leaned across the bar and near enough breathed her name in his ear. "You can call me Fleur."
Aramis caught Fleur's hand and stared into her eyes as he gently kissed it. He could practically feel Athos' glare boring into his back.
"My friend had a horse named Fleur, she was a wonderful beast to ride." Aramis hoped she caught the mischievous glint in his eye. As far as seductions went he was blundering about a bit…
"Oh, maybe we have more than a name in common then." She gave a sudden raucous laugh that had Aramis cringing.
He tried to join in and laugh along with her, but his laughter turned into a harsh cough. The young musketeer had tried to suppress it, the last thing he needed was to fall ill again, but he just couldn't hold it back. When the choking subsided Fleur reached over and cupped his cheek with rough fingers.
"Oh you poor thing, you're soaked through… Come on, lets get you out of those wet clothes." Her words started off concerned but ended up with a more sultry tone. "Your friend can stop in the first room on the right upstairs. He might be waiting a while for you."
"My thanks… One moment if you please". He gave her a wink as he left, but as soon as Aramis turned his back on Fleur the smile died on his face.
The young musketeer straightened and walked to Athos like a condemned man. He started to switch off and shut down, he couldn't be here for this… Aramis took the cross from around his neck and held it tightly in his fist. Taking it off somehow lessened the feeling of betrayal.
Athos stared up at him with pleading eyes. "You don't have to do this…"
"You have your room… First on the right upstairs". Aramis placed the cross down on the table in front of his friend. He spoke in a flat tone devoid of all emotion. "Look after this for me."
"We can go. We can leave right now." Athos spoke quickly.
"And go where? Better this than freezing to death out there…"
"Aramis..." Athos hissed his name as the young musketeer turned to go.
Fleur stood at the bottom of the stairs holding out an eager hand. Aramis took it reluctantly and painted on a smile that never reached his eyes.
~oOo~
Some time later Aramis pushed open the door to Athos' room and crept in, hoping not to wake his friend.
A voice filtered through the darkness. "What? She couldn't stretch to two rooms?"
So he was awake...
The young musketeer cleared his throat sheepishly. "They're all taken."
"And she kicked you out of hers? Were you that bad?"
Aramis let out a harsh breath. "I… I couldn't stop there. I just..."
He couldn't explain either. Aramis just knew there was the act… There was what he had done, and it was separate, it wasn't him. It was all sweat and fire, skin against skin, a flash… a moment. And then there was afterwards… lying there, breathing in the same air, taking in each other all night when he was more himself than he had been. It seemed a more intimate betrayal than what came before. That was an act in more ways than one… a mere action, mindless wheels and cogs fitting together, but also a masquerade. He was a character in the theatre of a bedroom, and it all fell away once the curtain came down.
Athos seemed to understand what Aramis didn't say. His tone was more serious when he spoke again. "You didn't have to do that."
"It worked." The reply was short indicating that Aramis didn't want to talk about it.
The young musketeer shuffled blindly across the small room until he hit a chair. He sat down with a groan. Every bit of his body ached, and recent activity hadn't helped…
"What are you doing?"
"Sleeping, or trying to." Aramis huffed and twisted uncomfortably.
"Don't be foolish, you can't sleep in the chair. Come here." The sound of shifting bedclothes followed.
"There's no room. I know, I've already been in one of those beds tonight…" He tried to make a joke of it, but it fell quite flat.
"Well then, you won't mind getting in another one." The bed creaked as Athos sat up. "Come on, if you don't want to share I'll take the chair. You need to lie in a bed."
"Why? Because I've earnt it?" Aramis spoke bitterly, though he was more angry at himself than Athos.
"Because you were quite recently injured." Athos' tone turned matter of fact. "And I'm not entirely convinced you're fully fit."
"I'm alright." Aramis shot straight back.
A heavy sigh rushed through the dark in reply. "Just come and lie down, for pity's sake…"
And despite his protestations Aramis gratefully went to slip beneath the covers. He curled up with Athos at his back and he was secretly glad for the warmth of another body that didn't smell of cheap perfume and gin.
~oOo~
The next morning Aramis lay awake thinking of everything and nothing. He wanted to explain himself, but he was too ashamed to talk about it. Athos had never approved of his falling in and out of beds, but this… this cheapened everything.
Athos shifted about, waking up gradually. He stilled for a moment before speaking. "Are you alright?"
"You must think poorly of me…" Aramis' words were slow and subdued.
"Why?"
Wasn't it obvious? But the question seemed genuine.
"I know you think I love too readily and too easily…" Suddenly the words Aramis had been searching for slipped out like sand through his fingers. "No, 'love' is not the word. You think I lust… but it is not that, it's never been about that. Not the notches on my bedpost, not whatever I get in return. I have never stooped this low… I feel the dirt is ingrained in my soul and it will not come out." He clutched a hand to his heart and dug angry fingernails into flesh. "But it was always love that moved me. I have to love, Athos... Like I need to breathe, I need to love, because this will all end. Our lifestyle can't go on forever. It will all be torn apart, and whatever becomes of us I would not have it end with smiles I haven't seen and soft lips I've never kissed. They deserve to be known, and I thought I deserved to know them. I had to love as much as I could while I was still able to love… Do you understand? I just need you to understand."
Athos was quiet. Before he had a chance to answer Aramis gave a broken laugh. "But look at me, speaking of endings. It is already done, it is already finished. If I could never love another after Anne I certainly can't love now. Not while we are like this…"
This time his answer was not slow in coming. "I understand, and I do not think poorly of you. I never have done. Perhaps you mistook me…" A note of hesitation crept into Athos' voice. "It has been a long time since I was able to love. I never feared time running out. Maybe I just feared for you… My love turned to poison, I didn't want to see you get hurt."
"Well the damage is done now…" Aramis' voice was tired. "But it was my doing. I was the poison, and I've killed us all. I'm sorry…"
"I've already forgiven you." Athos reached over to his bedside table and delicately picked something up. "And I'm sure she would too."
Aramis found Anne's small, golden cross being pressed into his hand.
"Now, are you alright?" The oppressive atmosphere seemed to lighten in the face of Athos' concern.
"If I say 'yes' will you believe me?" Aramis' voice was still tainted with sorrow.
"I heard you coughing."
So that would be a 'no' then…
"Of course I was coughing, we'd just ridden through one of the worst storms I've ever seen."
"I wasn't coughing." Athos sat up and perched on the edge of the bed. It gave him a better vantage point to glare down from.
"Yes, well, you're you… I've never seen you ill outside of a bottle." Aramis tried to roll over and turn his back on Athos, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Let me see." Athos tugged at the blanket and Aramis stubbornly held on to it.
"I'm alright, really… Athos, you're not my mother."
"Well, she's not here and somebody has to look after you."
Aramis reluctantly relinquished the blanket and let Athos pull his shirt up. It was probably quicker to let him look, the man was like a dog with a bone…
"These are looking better." Athos waved at the lurid bruising across Aramis chest.
The bruises were starting to heal. They spread across his skin in a mottled variety of colours instead of the deep, dark, blacks and blues of before. When Athos started pressing along his ribs Aramis tried not to react with a wince, but the tension in his body told Athos all he needed to know.
"Still tender?"
Aramis gave a nod. "A little."
"Well, they're healing at least. Just keep breathing deeply, you don't want to fall ill again… Now your arm."
The young musketeer pulled back his sleeve and offered his arm for inspection. Athos ran his fingers over it with a frown. The swelling had gone down, but it was still painted vividly with bruises, like Aramis' chest. There was a scar marring his skin as well.
"It's fine, I can move it…" Aramis flexed his fingers stiffly, not quite managing a fist. "Well... mostly."
Athos gave him a pointed look. "I'm not quite sure your definition of 'fine' is the same as everyone else's. How is your leg?"
It ached. But he wasn't about to tell Athos that.
"It's fine too." Athos looked skeptical. "I can walk can't I?"
"Really walk or mostly walk?" Athos raised an eyebrow.
"Touché." Aramis pulled his sleeve back down and sat himself up.
Suddenly the young musketeer felt the absence of Porthos… There was a hole in the room where he ought to be. There was a strangled silence in place of his words. Porthos would be telling Athos not to worry, he'd be laughing at Aramis' exploits and pulling him to his feet. Aramis stood quite stiffly. There was no hand to help him. Athos was his melancholy self again, quiet and lost in his thoughts. They needed Porthos to lift them up and lighten their hearts.
Walking to the window Aramis looked out on a pale, frosted morning. The sky was hidden by an endless sheet of grey cloud. He could almost hear Porthos at his shoulder…
"Looks like snow."
It did, and Aramis gave a shudder. He hated the snow. It was cold, it was wet, and it covered dead bodies in a dusting of powder… The carrion crows stood out black against white, like a macabre chessboard where death had won. Snow meant Savoy. It meant troubled sleep… As if his mind wasn't troubled enough already.
Aramis held the golden cross to his lips and reverently placed it around his neck. He said a quiet prayer for Anne, their child, and Porthos. And then he came to grip the window sill tightly. There was clatter of hooves outside, and the flash of a blue cloak.
"Athos… musketeers."
Athos shot to his feet. They looked at each other with sheer panic for a moment. The world seemed to stop.
Then Athos came back to himself, the soldier resumed control again. "Are you sure? Did you recognise them?"
"I think so… I'm not sure, I didn't see them clearly." He started to doubt in the face of Athos' questions. "Gather our things. I'll take a look."
Aramis crept to the door and opened it a crack. On finding it all clear he slipped out and hid at the top of the stairs. A rough voice echoed up from below.
"Madame, there's a fine black horse in your stable. Two wanted men were recently seen riding it, are they here?"
That voice belonged to a man named Jean - a veteran of the regiment who Aramis had sparred with a good few times.
"How am I supposed to know who rides what horse? Ask the stable boy." At least Fleur wasn't being helpful.
"We're going to have to search the whole inn if you can't tell me."
So he wasn't alone...
Deciding he had heard enough Aramis went back to their room. He shut the door quietly, as if he were frightened of waking a sleeping babe.
"Jean's down there, I don't know who else, but he isn't alone. We have to go, they're going to search the place." Aramis tried to keep his voice even, but a note of panic was creeping in.
Athos gave a nod and went to heave the window open. It resisted having warped in the cold. When it reluctantly gave way Athos looked down warily, but seeming satisfied he placed a bag on the sill.
"What are you doing?" Aramis asked as he went to put a restraining hand on the bag.
"We can't go back down the stairs, we'll walk right into them... We'll have to go out the window." He pushed the bag out and it hit the ground with a crunch.
Aramis stuck his head through the window and tried to suppress a cough as the cold air hit the back of his throat. It wasn't that far down really… He had jumped out of windows before. All you had to do was bend your knees and roll. He had avoided injury before… Well, there was that time he broke his ankle leaping from the window of Madame de Chevreuse. The young musketeer had not been able to walk for weeks afterwards, and Treville had not been happy to say the least. The consequences here and now would be a little more dire...
Athos threw the rest of their belongings out and then he clasped Aramis' shoulder. "I'll go first."
The older musketeer sat on the sill and lifted his legs out carefully. With no warning he flung himself clear of the window and landed with an audible "oof!". But Aramis' attention was taken by the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He scrambled his way onto the ledge and near enough fell out of the window. In his panic the young musketeer forgot all about landing properly. He crashed down half on their bags and half on Athos, who hadn't yet got clear. They both bit back their shouts, not wanting to attract any attention, and got to their feet. Aramis was a little slower to his… Still, he was thankful for the softer landing. After everything they'd been through it was a miracle his broken ribs hadn't punctured a lung by now.
The two musketeers dashed over to the stables, but they came to a dead halt on rounding a corner and finding a musketeer holding Henri while interrogating the stable boy.
Athos swore under his breath and pushed Aramis back. He scrubbed an anxious hand through his hair. "Alright… I have a plan. Remember Luc? Get ready."
"Ready for what?!" Aramis hissed.
But it was too late, Athos darted from cover and held his arms out wide. "Raoul, my old friend! I believe you've been looking for me?"
He spoke with the sort of brash confidence that Porthos was famed for.
And the reaction was immediate.
"Oi! Stop where you are!" The musketeer shouted and ran over, brandishing his rapier in an instant.
And suddenly Aramis remembered Luc. The man had been involved in a kidnapping, and they took him down with this very move.
Raoul reached the corner, intent on getting Athos. And that was when Aramis made his move. He darted forwards to punch Raoul viciously across the face. The musketeer dropped to the ground, out cold, never having seen it coming.
Aramis shook his hand and winced. "A little more warning would have been nice."
"We haven't got time for that." Athos retrieved their bags and went to take Henri from the stable boy.
The young lad relinquished his hold on the reins with nary a blink. It must have been quite a shock… one moment he was mucking out and the next he was embroiled in an adventure with musketeers and wanted criminals. He would have quite a tale to tell when he got home that night.
Athos flung their bags onto Henri before flinging Aramis up and climbing aboard himself. Henri still felt a little weary beneath them, but he responded readily enough. Aramis wrapped his arms tightly around Athos once again as they raced off towards the road.
Aramis' warm breath misted in the frigid air, it was almost painful to take in. He kept snatching glances over his shoulder, looking to see if they were being followed. But the inn was soon out of sight and neither Jean nor Raoul were in pursuit. The young musketeer nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but there was still some tension coiled deep in his chest. He would not breathe easy again until they were under cover and out of sight.
The road took a steep incline and Henri seemed to struggle. Athos urged him on with words as well as his heels. The horse breathed hard, giving all he had left, and then he stopped abruptly on reaching the brow of the hill. The riders froze as Henri had done. Ahead stood two mounted red guard. Aramis suddenly felt sick. Athos tried to turn Henri around, but burdened and weary as he was the horse was slow to respond. The guards wasted no time, they rode forwards and levelled their pistols at the two musketeers.
The first was older, with a straggling unkempt beard and a smug grin that Aramis would dearly have liked to wipe from his face. "It seems fortune favours us this day. We scoured these lands for months looking for the runaway musketeer rats, and look - they walk right in to us!"
The young guard by his side sniggered a laugh. His dirty, blonde hair was tied back in an untidy ponytail. "We'll have to play a few hands of cards, see if it holds up!"
"Off your horse now. Don't give me an excuse to shoot you." The smug grin became something more sinister.
Neither Athos nor Aramis made a move.
"Do not try my patience. I have instructions to bring you back alive, but accidents do happen…"
"Perhaps if you asked a little more politely I might be inclined to cooperate." Athos seemed able to bring each facet of his personality out at will. Sometimes it was the hardened soldier, this time it was the cultured Comte de la Fere.
"I have never asked a musketeer anything politely, and I will not start now." The older guard raised his pistol to point between Athos' eyes. "Aramis, get down, or I shoot him."
"He won't do it." Athos kept his expression calm and neutral… it was almost unnerving. "Do you really think one of these cowards would risk the wrath of the cardinal?"
Still… Aramis remembered the last time Athos was so sure another wouldn't shoot. He reluctantly slid from Henri's back and hit the ground heavily. The young musketeer wouldn't risk losing Athos, and this was no place to make a stand. It couldn't be done… not staring down the barrel of a gun with two to a horse, and a horse with hardly enough energy to hold its head up no less.
"Good. Now you."
Athos gave the guard a look of derision that Aramis had seen before. It would usually anger the most peaceful of men.
The guard scowled. "You get off your horse, or I will make you get off your horse."
But before any threat could be carried out the sound of hooves coming up on the path behind reached them. The guards shifted uneasily in their saddles as Jean and Raoul appeared over the crest of the hill. Aramis wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned at their appearance. This would be no rescue party. It felt like being trapped between a lion and a wolf.
Jean levelled a pistol at the guards while Raoul covered Athos and Aramis.
"We'll take it from here, gentlemen." Jean spoke with the air of a commanding officer, it set the guards bristling instantly.
"We caught them, they're our prisoners!" The older red guard bellowed.
"And we have been pursuing them, you just stumbled in the way!" Jean bit back, he was no stranger to fighting with the red guard.
"You would not be pursuing them had our men not found them hiding in that cottage!" The red guard's face was turning a shade of crimson.
"And your men lost them! We picked up their trail again - you red guard couldn't track an elephant through the streets of Paris."
Aramis watched the argument between the two sides like a ball going back and forth in a game of tennis. He was sure this friction could work to their advantage somehow… But before Aramis came up with anything Jean lowered his pistol.
"Enough of this. There is an inn a little way along the road, I suggest we return there, secure the prisoners, and settle this like gentlemen. A game of cards perhaps?"
Aramis raised an eyebrow. Jean was not the sort to back down from a fight. He must have a card up his sleeve so to speak… But the red guard were taken in.
"Very well, luck seems to be on our side today. I can beat you with cards as well as I can a sword… Now to get this fool off his horse."
The red guard rode alongside Henri. Just as Athos was about to open his mouth the brute of a man cracked him over the head with the butt of his pistol. Athos went limp and slid from Henri's back. Aramis caught him awkwardly, feeling the pull of his own injuries. They sank down to the hard ground of the road. Aramis' heart lurched at seeing a trickle of blood down the side of Athos' face.
"Athos?" The young musketeer shook him gently, but there was no response.
"Now which one of you has some rope?"
Note: Part of this was inspired by an interview that Santiago gave where he said: "It was a time in France where they knew it was a lifestyle that was about to end, so they are living life to the full. That's definitely one of the elements of Aramis, he is enjoying it for as long as he can because he knows this lifestyle can't go on for ever."