Hi, I'm quite new to this whole fan fiction writing thing and so would love any kind of feed back that people are willing to give!
Thank you and enjoy!
Oh and P.S. Sadly I own absolutely nothing related to the Musketeers. Enjoy again!
Athos
'It's all my fault Athos, I failed him. He needed my help and I failed him.' 'Aramis, for the last time it was not your fault'. 'You weren't there Athos; you didn't see the look in his eyes. He was so scared; I have never seen him that scared before. He was my brother and I let a stupid injury get in the way.' He shouted brandishing his hand at his leg, 'I wish it was me instead'. Aramis held his head in his hands. 'Don't say that Aramis'. I growled trying to get my brother to see sense but he would not listen. I leaned forward and grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from his face. 'Look at me'. He finally raised his head, his soft brown eyes looking into my stormy blue ones. 'There was nothing you could have done' Aramis shook his head but took a deep breath and lent back into his bed.
It had been early in the morning, not even dawn, when I had been called to the infirmary, the alcohol still not out of my system. I had grumbled about being dragged out of bed at such an unearthly but when I had seen the looks on D'Artagnan's and Captain Treville's faces I had known instantly that something was wrong. I pushed past them into the room and what I saw made me feel sick in my gut.
My brother, Aramis, had been lain out on the table, his leg covered in blood. Instantly I was at his side. His already pale skin was now white in complexion and when I touched it, it felt cold and unnatural. I had turned to the physician who at that point was attempting to stitch up the now clean wound in my brother's leg. 'Will he survive?' I asked bluntly, trying to hide the worry and anger rising inside of me. 'So far the wound looks uninfected which is good, but he has lost a lot of blood, I'm afraid there is nothing more I can do for him. It's up to God now'. With that he picked up his tools, nodding to Treville as he left.
I watched as D'Artagnan came forward and took Aramis' hand. He knelt down beside him and I could hear him praying under his breath, praying that our brother would make it through the night. It was at that point that I realised a presence missing. 'Where's Porthos?' I ask, questioning no one in particular, 'he should be here'. The look on the Captain's made my heart skip a beat. He beckoned me away and out of the room. I shut the door leaving our youngest alone with our injured brother.
'What's wrong, is he hurt' I paused for a seconded, my heart stopping, I take a breath 'He, is he dead?'. No, I thought to myself, I can't lose another brother not another one. 'No, he's not dead or hurt as far a we know'. I felt a wave of relief rush over me. 'Then where is he?' I ask giving my Captain a quizzical look. 'That's the problem, we don't know'. 'What do you mean you don't know?!' I raise my voice slightly then suddenly realise who I'm talking to and lower my head. 'Sorry sir'. 'That's ok, you're worried about your brothers, I understand. We sent someone to fetch Porthos when Aramis was found but the person we sent said he didn't answer the door and when he looked through the window the bed looked unslept in.
I lower my head, thoughts rushing through my mind. I tried to picture where Porthos might be but came up with nothing. 'Athos', my thoughts were interrupted as Treville continued, 'There is something you should know. When we found Aramis we found something else.' He paused for a second, then continued, 'There were men strewn all over the street, dead men, most of them with sword wounds, but there were others; others with broken necks.' The work of my brother, I think, the shadow of a smile passing across my lips as I think about Porthos dealing with those who injured my other brother. 'And amongst the bodies was Porthos' sword'.
Here my Captain stopped and looked at me and suddenly I could feel a source of anger rising inside of me. I raised my head, insuring my eyes met his directly and gave him the stare that all young recruits are afraid of receiving, 'And what, might I ask, are you insinuating?'. I watched as my Captain swallowed, shifting slightly under my gaze and took a second to choose his words wisely'. 'I am saying that both Porthos and Aramis were drunk; if these men had gotten into a fight with them and had Aramis been injured it would not have taken much for Porthos to snap. Every good soldier has suffered from a moment of rage, and maybe once Porthos had realised what he had done he felt guilty and fled.'
'This, is Porthos we are talking about!' I yelled grabbing Treville by the collar, not caring that he was my Captain anymore. This was my brother he was insulting, the most gentle and caring of us all, he would not attack for any reason let alone murder men in the streets just because some out of control brawl. How dare Treville even contemplate such a thing? I could feel outrage boiling inside of me threatening to escape from every pore of my body. I pulled Treville's face close to mine, our eyes locked. 'Even if Porthos did kill those men, he would not do it for no reason, let alone leave his injured brother to die in the streets.' I hissed. ' He is no thug or Red Guard; he is a musketeer and would rather swing on the rope then leave one of us injured. Do you understand me?'. I growled. Treville nodded and I released him.
He stood there rubbing his neck. 'I am sorry, I know I was wrong to question Porthos' loyalty but the evidence points to only one explanation and I had to raise it.' I looked at him, wanting to be angry still but could only read a look of guilt and dishonour on his face. I could feel my rage bubbling away and my blank mask returned. 'I am sorry also, you are my Captain and I should understand that all your motives for questioning are true but understand Porthos worked hard to get where he is and I can not stand by while his loyalty and honour are in question.' Treville nodded. 'So what now?' I asked. 'Now we find him, we will search every street and hell hole if we have to but we will find him and we will bring him home safely.' He held out his hand and I took it. 'But while we do that you must stay here with Aramis, he will need you and hopefully when…',when not if, I think to myself, 'when he wakes up he can tell us what happened.' I nodded and bowed my head to him to show my respect but also to show that all was forgiven.
'What's going on?' asked D'Artagnan, looking up as I entered the room, a worried expression on his face. He was still knelt by Aramis' side and by the redness of his eyes and the dampness of his face I could tell he had been crying. 'I heard raised voices outside, is everything ok?'. I walked over to his side and place my hand on his shoulder, 'Just a little argument, everything's fine.' But even as I spoke I knew it was a lie. Everything was not fine. In front of me lay one of my brothers fighting for his live and somewhere out there was my other brother fighting to survive. Everything was not fine, but my expressionless mask did not show it and the boy seemed to relax a little once I said it.
That had been nearly four hours ago. Since then Treville's search party had returned empty handed. Aramis had awoken screaming my other brother's name and it had taken a lot of coaxing from D'Artagnan and myself to stop him from jumping out of bed. Once awake and calmed, Aramis had told us what had happened and by the end of it I could feel myself shaking with anger. These men dared trap a musketeer, let alone my brother, in such away? It made me growl with anger. I knew if I got my hands on them first I would make sure their deaths were as slow and painful as possible. Treville had immediately sent out some musketeers to follow the carts trail but fresh snowfall had covered its tracks. They had found something though.
Porthos' pauldron had been found half buried in the snow near the outskirts of the city. Now as the three brothers sat in the infirmary, their youngest was cradling it in his arms as though it was a delicate and vulnerable child. D'Artagnan was near to tears again and this time there was nothing I could do to comfort him. We sat together in silence, none of us truly knowing what to do. Porthos was strong, loyal, and brave. Although sometimes his emotions would get the better of him, he always made sure the rest of them remained level headed. Like the fourth wheel of a cart, he had always kept them moving and heading in the right direction but now, without him, it felt as though their world had come tumbling down around them.
'What now?'. It was D'Artagnan that finally asked the unspoken question. 'We can't just sit here and do nothing. Porthos trusts us to help him and that's what we've got to do.' Taking a deep breath, I try to clear my head. 'D'Artagnan is right, we have to find Porthos'. 'But where do we start?' cried Aramis. I close my eyes trying to think. 'This attack and kidnapping, it was personal.' 'What do you mean?' asked D'Artagnan his brown eyes turning to look at me. 'I mean so far we haven't received any ransoms and you were injured Aramis, they could just as easily taken you as well, but they didn't. Why?'. 'Because it was personal, they were after Porthos specifically, they knew where his room was, that he would be back late, they even wanted him alive. This was planned.' Aramis answered nodding his head. 'But where does that lead us?'. They all looked at one another, the question all ready answered. 'The Court of Miracles'.