Chapter Eight

The commanders all arrived over the span of a few days. Aramis kept out of the way, he knew Treville would be up there somewhere and he did not want to be recognised. He saw little of Romero, the preparations for the reception were going apace and he was in the thick of it.

A curiosity drove him when the day of the reception arrived. Men were frantically running about with cutlery, food and more. Amongst the commotion Aramis made his way to the corridor before the dining hall unhindered. The doors were wide open and the scene was set to a lavish standard. Fine draperies hung here and there, and the tables were laden with food Aramis hadn't seen since he stood on guard duty at the palace. His mouth watered at the sight of it. Why should they have such rich pickings? It wasn't right.

Eventually the servants began to disperse, just a few stragglers remained primping at cloths and moving dishes. Others took positions against the wall, silently awaiting the moment they would be needed to fill a glass or fetch and carry on command.

Soldiers moved to the door.

"Oi, you! Get out. They'll be arriving any minute now."

Aramis started and did as he was asked. Though he made his way halfway down the corridor before turning back. He watched as the two guards took position either side of the door. At one time Aramis would be standing there, watching everybody coming through, making sure it was all safe. It wasn't safe, but the guards didn't know that. Everybody would make merry at the reception, not knowing that death waited around the corner at the meeting. The thought suddenly struck Aramis then. Treville might die. A pang of regret struck his heart, but Romero's words were his mantra now… necessary sacrifice. His death would be for the greater good.

One of the guards waved his hand at Aramis. "Go! Don't want your sort up here! Clear off!"

Your sort… He was counted amongst the riff raff now, the worthless, the nameless, the forgotten. Those words made his blood boil. And to think, he would have once stood proudly shoulder to shoulder with Athos, in their gleaming uniforms, shooing away undesirables from the King's door. He hated Athos, just as he hated who he used to be. That blind peacock. The one who went from bed to bed leaving pain, hurt, and death in his wake. The one who unquestioningly served the King like some dog at his heel. The world had always been so black and white back then. He was good. Those he struck down were bad. Aramis was the hero in his own grand tale. But now he knew the world was not made of heroes and villains. Just men. Flawed men, each with their own purpose, the most dangerous of which was accruing power.

"Did you not hear me? Get out of here! I won't tell you again!" The guard's hand hovered at his sword.

Aramis' heart sank and he walked away. He reached the end of the corridor and turned a corner.

He froze.

Athos.

Time slowed as his heart raced. A thousand emotions hit all at once, hatred, bitterness, regret, fear… he couldn't be seen.

Athos was walking towards him, deep in conversation with another at his side. He hadn't seen Aramis. Like a sudden strike of lightning hit, his limbs freed up and he shot to the window. Aramis gripped the sill tightly, hoping and praying that Athos would pass by at his back. He couldn't breathe. He felt his lungs seize, he couldn't drag in air. It was as if his throat were clogged with dirt. The terror of being seen overrode everything in him, but something in Aramis longed to turn and strike at the man he once called friend.

Sure enough Athos passed by. The voice that Aramis once found to be a welcoming comfort now stoked his ire. Of course he would pass by. Aramis was invisible to his kind, they were beneath notice to the nobility, they were only there to serve and die. Their worth equalled that of the animals, and sometimes fell below. Aramis silently seethed as he heard Athos at his back. His arms trembled as he clutched at the sill.

The moment Athos was gone Aramis drew in a breath and turned around with gritted teeth to glare at his retreating back. He imagined Athos going in there, eating his fill, snapping his fingers at the ghostly waifs lining the wall. It set his blood afire. Aramis ran a shaking hand through his hair and then dashed off to find Romero.

He found his friend in the kitchens, and didn't think anything of striding over with a shout.

"He's here!"

Romero grabbed his shirt and pushed him off to one side out of the way into a store room.

"You forget yourself." Romero hissed. "Ancel."

He had to play the role.

He had to forget who he was.

Aramis couldn't forget him.

"But he's here… Athos."

At that Romero's eyes widened. "This changes nothing. You mean nothing to him, you never have done. You let him turn your head for all those years, don't let him turn your head now. Not when we're so close." His hands fisted Aramis' shirt tightly.

"No… Don't think that… I don't see him and think that…" Something feral twisted Aramis' features. "I want to hurt him."

Relief seemed to wash over Romero. "And you will. We'll hurt all of them. In a few days time there will be nothing left of them but dust." He let go and patted Aramis' shoulder. "Stay strong for me."

~oOo~

The next day Romero met with Aramis in their usual place for a last run through the plan. Once the meeting commenced it would be up to Aramis to set the powder off. In the aftermath of the explosion eyes would naturally turn to those working in the armoury. They deemed it safer for Aramis to escape to a nearby town. Romero could evade suspicion, it was decided he would stop on for a time and meet with Aramis when things had calmed down. This was to be their last stand, but Romero seemed to have embedded himself so thoroughly he was now entertaining notions of staying and doing further damage. He even considered sowing dissent and turning men to their cause.

"There is one last thing we must speak of."

"Oh?" Aramis had been ready to leave, but he hung back on hearing that.

"If things do not go well. If you are captured at any point, here or out there…"

"I will say nothing. Be assured of that."

"Good… and stay away from Athos. Don't look at him, don't talk to him, don't give him the satisfaction of your attention."

Aramis frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps it was not you I saw lingering in the shadows after the reception, watching our visitors take their leave?"

Ah.

"I just wanted to see what has become of him."

"You know what has become of him. He has become what he always was, what he hid from you - The Comte. Now Athos is back where he belongs, amongst his own sort. You are forgotten, you are beneath him. Confronting him will do nothing but jeopardise our plan. Stay away."

"As you wish."

Aramis had stood there seething with clenched fists and gritted teeth. To them he was an invisible servant in the shadows, not worthy of notice. He just needed to see Athos, to see if he was truly something else. Romero was right of course, Romero was always right. It was in the way Athos held himself as he walked, in his cultured manner of speaking, it all betrayed him. Athos had always seemed a little different, but Aramis couldn't have imagined how different he really was until that admission…

"You were the Comte de la Fere? A son of the nobility? How many servants did it take to run this place?"

"No more than twenty, including my valet and housekeeper."

Back then he had asked in amazement. Now it set his blood boiling to think of Athos being waited on hand and foot by twenty men and women.

He had seen Athos walk down that corridor, head held high, laughing at the words of his beautiful high born companion.

Athos never laughed. Not with them.

He had seen enough.

"We may not see each other for some time." Romero broke Aramis from his thoughts. "Good luck, my friend."

"And to you."

So this was it.

~oOo~

That night Aramis hardly slept at all. He wavered between excitement and anxiety about their plan, to anger at Athos. True to his word Aramis kept away from the man, but the Comte still haunted his thoughts. He couldn't help but rake over their years together, trying to think back to see if there were any signs Athos wasn't what he seemed. Aramis bristled at every memory of Athos taking charge, and the way he shunned them to drink alone in a tavern corner. The man had demons, but what man hadn't? Of course, with Athos being one of them he was selfish. He imagined his own hurts ran deeper than those of any other. Well, he should try waking up to twenty dead brothers!

Not that Athos would have cared about those brothers. They were beneath him.

Hell, he nearly let Porthos die just to avoid his past.

Aramis took a deep breath and tried to let go of the anger. It wouldn't matter soon. The coming day would see Athos become the nothing he saw when he looked at Aramis and all the rest. He would be nothing, and he wouldn't matter.

~oOo~

Morning came and time ticked by too slowly. Aramis sat before his table, filled with paperwork, anxiously tapping his finger or a foot. Men asked him questions, he answered through a daze. It didn't seem to matter any more. A shipment was late, but it wouldn't be his concern when tomorrow came. A late shipment would be the least of anybody's worries for that matter.

Afternoon approached and Aramis got to his feet, he made his way to the powder room as if he were in a dream. Two men were working down there, he dismissed them and waited until they were long gone before he started setting the fuse. Up above they would be gathering in the meeting room, oblivious to the fact they were about to breathe their last.

Aramis' heart was pounding. His mind was racing. He tried to filter out everything else… he was going to kill… and focus on the two things he had to do. Light the fuse and get to the stables.

Light the fuse, get to the stables.

Nothing else mattered.

But he couldn't help but imagine the nobility up above, deep in discussion, sitting around a table strewn with maps.

They didn't know this was coming.

Focus.

Light the fuse, get to the stables.

The parchment in his hand trembled slightly.

He had to be strong, for Romero.

This was for Romero.

For everybody.

He lifted the parchment to a torch on the wall and knelt down to the fuse when it caught fire.

Light the fuse.

He touched the parchment to the line of powder.

Get to the stables.

He dropped it and turned to run. He just had to find the horse Romero had arranged to have tacked up for him. Third stall from the end. It would be waiting, and he could ride away.

He tried not to think about the fuse burning down. He tried not to imagine the explosion, the inevitable blast, and the bodies afterwards. He just had to get to the stables.

But there was one thing Aramis couldn't have planned for. He turned a corner and ran into Benett, the troublemaker.

"Ancel! They told me you were down here."

"Go!"

"Not until you tell me why I can't come back to the armoury! I know you didn't have me put in the kitchens to help-"

"We have to leave. Now!" Aramis physically pushed at the fool in his way.

"Why?" Benett frowned as he seemed to catch on to Aramis' desperation.

"It's not safe. The powder… RUN!"

The frown left his face as understanding dawned. "What have you done?"

"GO!"

Benett didn't need telling again. They both took flight away from the powder room. Aramis' lungs heaved with the effort. He had set a long enough fuse, but that delay might very well cost them their lives. Benett lagged just behind him. A curse word or two just audible at his back. Aramis slammed through a door, and careened onwards. A few at work in the armoury looked up at them in confusion. Aramis just heard Benett yelling at them to run. Through another door they were out of the armoury, freedom was tantalisingly close. He had to reach the gateway… and then the stables.

It was then the castle shook with the force of the blast. The deep boom and following rumble nearly had Aramis off his feet. He stopped. What he had done suddenly hit him. He turned to look back for a sorrowful moment, and found Benett charging forwards, fist raised.

And then Benett hit him.

Aramis fell back, striking his head on the stone floor.

Darkness moved in.