Chapter Text
So I've been busy writing my main story "Aramis betrayal", but somehow another whump story slipped into my head. I couldn't help but write it down. It will be a 2-part prompt. This is part 1, part 2 will be uploaded as soon as I'm finished writing it. :)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Musketeers, or any of the characters and storylines in the series The Musketeers (BBC). I do not own any of the original characters, and storylines from Alexander Dumas.
NOTE: Major Aramis whump, contains mature content (regarding violence).
I swear i'll write a nicer story for Aramis someday, one where he actually has a nice life. XD
Anyway, here goes:
Secrets to keep - Part 1
He always was a light sleeper. Somehow his past experiences had created that in him, always staying on guard, even in his sleep. It had saved him more than once, but had also deprived him of some well needed rest. It was a blessing and a curse. But he learned to live with it.
A familiar sound reached his ears when he heard a door squeak. Definitely his door. Still half a sleep Aramis waved one hand to the person at the door and grunted.
'What is it? Let me sleep for a couple of minutes if it's not life-threatening!'
He remembered Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan being out of the city for some mission, and Treville was somewhere in the south of France to talk with some important man about a treaty of sorts. So it was just him and the cadets. The responsibility he absolutely didn't want, again…, but was forced somehow in this position once more. He sighed at the mere thought.
There was no response, though more footsteps seemed to enter and close in on him. Opening his eyes whilst turning towards the disturbers he looked annoyed at the face of one of his cadets. But annoyance quickly turned into discomfort.
'Fouquet, what is it? Why are you all here? What's going on?'
Still, no response. Aramis tried to sit up in confusion as two of his cadets walked towards his desk and three others pulled up close to his bed. But his movements froze as he heard the unsheathing of a blade near his side. Aramis looked up, leaning on his elbows, squinting his eyes as he gazed at the face of Fouquet.
'What are you doing?'
'Just stay where you are.' Fouquet finally answered, while he pushed the point of his blade in Aramis' neck, the cold steel touching his skin making him feel uncomfortable about the whole situation.
'What…?' Aramis started, his emotions somewhere between anger and bewilderment, and quickly checked out the other cadets. There was a certain unspoken hatred in their eyes, though Aramis could not figure out what had caused it. The two cadets in the back were searching through his desk, picking up envelopes and papers, studying them carefully.
Finally having enough of it, Aramis blatantly pushed the blade away with his hand.
'Enough of this! Stand down!'
No one responded.
'I said STAND DOWN CADET!' changing his tone of voice to a more demanding manner as he sat up straight. But as soon as he had straightened his back another cadet forced him back on his bed by putting a knife at his throat.
'Found one!' a voice sounded from the back of his room. He held up a white envelope with a red seal and handed it to Fouquet. Suddenly Aramis' heart sank, he recognized the envelope immediately. Why hadn't he put it away more carefully?
'That, is not for your eyes! Hand it over!' Aramis tried, but the knife at his throat only pushed deeper into his flesh. A drop of blood trickled down his throat as he flinched from the feeling.
'So it is true?!' Fouquet uttered in anger. 'You ARE a Spanish spy!'
Aramis eyes widened at the words as his heart started pounding deeply in his chest.
'Wait, what!? NO!'
'Take him down!' Fouquet ordered the other cadets.
'Wait! You can't do this!' Aramis protested while he was forced out of his bed, his wrists being tied behind his back. 'Captain Treville will hear about this!' he tried but hands from everywhere suddenly tried to grab him and push him out of the room while someone behind him gagged his mouth.
Breathing suddenly became a lot harder.
'As you know as well as we do the captain is in the south for an important meeting, and Athos and the others are out of town for a mission. We're taking control here.' Fouquet told him.
Aramis grunted in defiance. Not being able to talk his way out of this he tried as hard as he could to pull himself out of their hands with every step they forced him to take. He finally broke free but staggered right before the staircase. Relieved that he hadn't fallen down, he took in a deep breath.
Though his relieve didn't last long as a hand in his back pushed him and he tripped over his feet, tumbling forward and downward. Every other staircase hit him hard in different parts of his body. It felt like it would go on forever until the cold hard floor suddenly crashed into his face. The coolness of the floor softened the pain in his cheeks, though a warm trickle of blood slipped down and he realized he might be a lost cause.
Getting up was out of the question, he must have cracked a rib or two and his shoulderswere incapacitated. His sight blurred when two cadets forced him up, and a dizziness engulfed his head.
Before he knew it cool raindrops dripped on his face as he was carried outside. Voices spoke around him, but he couldn't make out the words. It seemed like they were arguing amongst themselves. He looked up and noticed more cadets in the court of the garrison. They were shouting against each other.
'What are you doing!' someone yelled, the voice sounded familiar.
'We have proof that he is a Spanish spy!' Fouquet called out as he ordered the other cadets to chain Aramis to a pole.
'Aramis is NOT a Spanish spy! How could you say that! After all that he has done for us!'
'Especially after all he has done for us! See for yourselves!' Fouquet yelled as he held up the envelope.
'Let me see that!'
Aramis tilted his head as the young man grabbed the envelope out of Fouquet's hand and recognized Clairmont instantly. He turned his back towards them as he read the contents of the letter. Aramis watched in agony, hoping at least someone would be reasonable. But his stomach turned when Clairmont dropped his hands in despair and the contents of the envelope fluttered slowly to the muddy ground.
He tried to yell, to tell Clairmont it was all a misunderstanding, but his words were filtered by the gag in his mouth. He wanted him to look him in the eyes, see his innocence. But his heart sank when he finally faced him. The feeling of pure betrayal and pain in Clairmont's eyes poured deep inside Aramis' gut. He opened his mouth, tried once more to push the gag out but failed. It was too late, Clairmont had averted his eyes and stepped back as the group of angry cadets formed a circle around Aramis.
Fouquet quickly picked up the papers and pushed himself through the circle, stopping in front of Aramis.
'Who is this from!?' He demanded, as he pressed the contents of the envelope close to Aramis' face. Aramis just stared back in anger.
'Tell us!' Fouquet continued as he roughly pulled the gag out of Aramis' mouth.
Trying to take a deep breath he was painfully reminded of the broken ribs he had obtained earlier and coughed, making the pain worse.
With a grunt he tried to regain control over his body, he had to stay calm if he were to survive this.
'I told you already. Some things are not meant for a cadet's eyes.' Aramis uttered, trying to hide his emotions.
It clearly was not the answer they wanted to hear as a fist landed hard in his stomach pushing his back violently against the wood of the pole.
Drops of rain mingled with the trickles of blood on his face.
'Why do you have this? Why is there a Spanish letter with a map of our regiments in your room?! Who is it from?!'
'I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you.' Aramis replied, as he tried hard to sound understanding towards the young ones in front of him. And then suddenly he realised it. 'Wait…how did you know what to look for?'
Fouquet looked up in surprise. He had not expected this question and wondered if he should answer it.
'Well?' Aramis pushed, as he tried to stand on his own, showing off his dominance. Hoping it would work.
'Someone told us. But that is not the issue here! I asked you a question! Answer!' the young cadet responded as he closed back in on him.
'Who was i…t' Aramis started but was cut off by another fist, this time landing in his side making him fall to the floor with his arms still bound behind his back. He coughed and was surprised to taste the bitter steel flavour of blood in his mouth.
'What in heaven's name is going on here!?' a demanding and familiar voice yelled as the footsteps of the person came closing in.
A gloved hand reached for his chin and carefully moved his head up. More raindrops poured down on his face and flowed freely down his body, carrying with it the blood seeping from his head injuries. A small pool of reddish liquid formed around his feet.
'Aramis…' The deeply concerned eyes of Athos stared straight at his'.
'It's… not as bad as it looks…' Aramis joked, as Athos helped him to stand up on his own feet.
'Who started this!? ' Another familiar voice howled. Porthos broke through the circle of cadets and grabbed the first one he could get his hands on, 'Upon my word…!'.
'He did!' Fouquet yelled back, as he pointed towards Aramis. 'See for yourself!' He added, as he pushed the letter in Porthos' hands, while d'Artagnan stepped next to him eager to read along.
'Release him, now!' Athos commanded as he joined his brothers in reading the contents of the letter.
One of the cadets revealed the key of the shackles and unhinged them. Almost falling on his knees, he landed on his hands and tried to pull himself up by using the pole behind him. Placing his hands on his sides he tried to locate the broken ribs. It didn't take long for him to discover as by a mere touch the flaming pain burned form his side and spread across his body.
'Aramis, what is this?' d'Artagnan begged, as he turned towards his brother. Aramis, trying hard to keep his eyes focused, looked back at the young musketeer. What was this look he gave him? Somehow that look instigated more pain, a different pain, than the physical pain he endured from his stairs accident. Aramis swallowed before he slowly opened his mouth to try and react.
'Not now.' Athos interrupted, before Aramis could respond. 'Take him inside.'
'Sir, this man is not who he says he is, he should be in the Bastille!' Fouquet tried, as he pulled Athos at his shoulder while Porthos and d'Artagnan both pulled one of Aramis' arms over their neck to help carry him to the door.
'You don't know what you're talking about Fouquet! Go back to your rooms, we'll get back on this later!' Athos ordered the young cadets in the court while his eyes noticed two figures entering the garrison.
'Where is the musketeer Aramis!?'
That voice, why did it have to be that voice. Aramis swallowed as he turned around, leaning on d'Artagnan and Porthos.
'Rochefort… what are you doing here?' Athos asked.
'I just received word that there is a spy in our midst.' Rochefort responded, while looking over at the young man at his side. The young cadet kept staring at his feet even as his superiors gazed right at him. 'This cadet here came to warn me. Now, hand it over.' Rochefort ordered as he reached out his hand, waiting to be handed the papers. Quickly Fouquet ran up to him and handed the envelope over to Rochefort, who, with great interest, opened it and read the contents.
'This is not your territory Rochefort. We'll handle this ourselves.' Athos calmly told him, as he tried to take the papers back. But Rochefort pulled his hands back and carefully placed the envelope in his jacket while signing to the guards in the back to come over.
'Arrest the musketeer Aramis.'
Had enough already? Or want more? ;)
I'm sorry, I'm gonna make you wait a little while, but not too long. :P
Any suggestions for stories are welcome! Please follow and review.