Musketeers One Shots

Nightmares

"You four, my office. Now!" Captain Treville shouted down to his four strongest Musketeers - Athos, Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan who were sitting in the courtyard below.
"Sir, can't we finish our breakfast?" Porthos moaned.
"No, now," the Captain replied. Porthos rolled his eyes and Aramis chuckled as they trooped up the stairs and into his office. They lined up wondering what the Captain had in store for them today.
"One of the King's closest advisors, Claude Dumont needs escorting to Eparcy. He's been sent by His Majesty to try and diffuse a group of revolutionaries from leading an attack on the Huguenots on the King's behalf. You four have been entrusted by the King to take him. You report to the palace in an hour and will leave once the King has spoken to you. Dismissed." They left the office and went straight to get their horses tacked up.
"Do we ever get any time to ourselves?" Porthos asked exasperatedly.
"We're Musketeers. Of course we don't," Aramis replied. "When our King commands, we must obey." Porthos rolled his eyes again. The four of them mounted thier horses and sped away from the Garrison. Treville watched them go. Every time they left he got worried. They may have been his strongest and most loyal soldiers in the regiment, but they were also the most reckless and headstrong, in particular Porthos and D'Artagnan. They often found themselves getting into scrapes, sometimes ending up badly for them. Hopefully they could get through this mission unscathed.

The four arrived at the palace. They dismounted thier horses and passed the reins to a group of servants who met them at the front gate. They met Louis in the entrance hall and bowed low. The King had another man with him.
"Musketeers, this is Claude Dumont. He is now in your hands. Don't let me down." The King swept away up the stairs.
"M. Dumont. My name is Athos of the King's Musketeers," Athos said. Dumont nodded and smiled. "This is Aramis to my right, D'Artagnan and Porthos." Each nodded to Dumont when thier names were mentioned. Athos lead the procession outside where the four Musketeers' and Dumont's horses were waiting. The five mounted.
"Aramis and I will ride up front and Porthos and D'Artagnan behind. M. Dumont, you should ride in the middle."
"Fine by me," the advisor replied. They took up their formation and spurred thier horses on. D'Artagnan could see that Porthos was visibly annoyed about something. He turned to the large Musketeer.
"Is everything OK?"
"It's the King," Porthos replied. "Don't let me down," he imitated. "We try our best and we're completely devoted to him, but we just get it all thrown back in our faces. He doesn't trust us!"
"When things don't go his way he has to take it out on someone else. We're the ones usually at the front of the queue. We usually get the blame and we just have to deal with that," D'Artagnan said. Porthos nodded in agreement. "Hopefully at the end of this mission we can expect praise instead of grief from him." Meanwhile Athos and Aramis were upfront, talking about what would happen when they got to Eparcy.
"We'll find a tavern nearby where we can spend the night. Dumont can speak to the revolutionaries tomorrow then we can make our way back the next day," Athos said. Aramis nodded in agreement.

They made it to Eparcy. They found a tavern close to where Dumont's revolutionaries were. They went inside away from the cold air. The innkeeper met them inside.
"How many rooms have you got free?" Aramis lasked the man.
"Three," the man replied.
"Perfect," Porthos said. "We'll take all three." The man nodded and led them up the stairs.
"M. Dumont, if you take that room. Aramis if you share with Porthos and if me and D'Artagnan share, we're sorted." They all agreed and disappeared into their respective rooms.
Porthos awoke during the night when he heard Aramis whimpering.
Trees. Forests. Snow. Gunshots. Bodies falling around me. Pain. Falling. Hands. Swords. Being dragged across the forest floor. Dizziness. Marsac. The fleur-de-lis pauldron falling to the floor. Marsac riding away. Life slipping away. They're dead. They're all dead. Strong hands holding my body.
Aramis snapped awake and saw a looming figure above him. He squirmed. They were going to kill him. Just like the others. He thrashed around.
"'Mis, calm down. It's me Porthos. Calm it, 'Mis," Porthos said worriedly. Aramis had had episodes of nightmares before but he didn't know it was still going. It took twenty minutes to calm Aramis down. The sharpshooter sat up, panting. He raked his fingers through his hair.
"Where am I?" Aramis asked.
"We're in a tavern in Eparcy. We're escorting Claude Dumont on the King's orders. Athos and D'Artagnan are here too. We're safe 'Mis. No-one's died." The sharpshooter's breathing levelled out. "Sleep 'Mis, please."
"Fine but only if you get away from me. I can handle this myself."
"Whatever, 'Mis."