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The musketeers come across something on a journey home and they try to shelter Aramis from it.

Warnings for this one: a scene of violence and gore, though not described in detail. Also, brace yourself for some sweetness between Aramis and Porthos.

…

The wind blew sleet into his face and stuck on his eyelashes. He paid it no mind; he simply couldn't take his eyes away from the scene in front of him. They were traveling back from a mission for the cardinal when they came upon it. Athos, in all his kindness had tried to stop Aramis from seeing them but it was too late, the damage was done. He knew they were staring at him, he could feel it, their gazes were far too heavy and too full of worry.

He turned to face them, "I need to go for a walk," He stated and started walking past them.

"Aramis," Athos said after sharing a glance with Porthos.

Aramis turned to face him, hoping he would not ask if he was alright when he clearly was not, hoping Athos would not ask him to stay.

"Don't stray too far." Athos said.

Aramis nodded and turned to walk away.

…

They hadn't been on the road too long when it happened. The snow was starting to slow down and the air was even beginning to feel slightly warmer. They spoke casually, poking fun at one another with Athos and Porthos in the lead and Aramis and d'Artagnan at the back.

The surrounding atmosphere had suddenly grown quiet and thick. The horses stopped on their own accord and grew restless, as if they had been a little startled.

"Whoa…" d'Artagnan said, as he tried to soothe his steed.

They heard a growl and out of some trees strode a wolf. Its face was red with blood and it bared its teeth at them. Aramis heard d'Artagnan gasp softly. Porthos yelled at the animal and it quickly ran away as it crossed their path.

"Something's not right." Aramis stated as he begun to dismount.

The others did the same. Athos and Porthos walked a little ahead while Aramis and d'Artagnan scanned the forest behind them. Aramis turned around and made to follow Athos and Porthos but Athos was suddenly walking straight towards him, holding his hands up passively.

"Aramis," he said, "stay here, stay with the horses."

"What?" Aramis asked, suddenly concerned, "Why?"

He tried to walk forward but Athos gripped his shoulders blocking his view of the road ahead. He side stepped and wriggled from Athos' grasp and walked forward.

"Aramis…" he heard Athos start from behind him, "Don't, please."

But it was too late. He saw Porthos leaning over something and the larger man looked up quickly. Porthos stood up and started walking towards Aramis but Aramis paid no attention to him. He was too focused on the people in the snow. There were five of them. Some were women. Their throats had been slit and the blood stained the snow all around them, painting an all too familiar picture in Aramis' head.

Porthos stepped in front of him, successfully blocking the scene. He rested his hands on Aramis' face and pulled up so Aramis could look at him.

"Aramis," he said, "go back; it's going to be alright."

"No." Aramis said, side-stepping Porthos just as he had done to Athos, "Did you check them? Maybe we can help them if we ju…"

"They're gone, Aramis." Porthos sighed from behind him, "I checked them myself… they've been dead for a while now. It was bandits I reckon."

Porthos spoke with such softness that anyone who didn't know him might think it was the wind carrying someone else's voice.

Aramis stared at them. He could feel his hands start to shake. He could hear their screams and see the fear in their faces as they realised their fate. He could see the horror filled expressions on their faces as they watched one another get killed.

…

The sight never left him as he walked. His boots sunk softly in the snow and he realised he was not paying attention to where he was going. He turned back and sighed with relief when he realised he just had to follow his footprints.

Inhaling a shaky breath he leaned his back on a tree and slid down its trunk. He sat hunched against the tree before he heard footsteps. He looked to his left and saw Porthos approaching slowly. Porthos stopped ahead of him and leaned against the tree opposite, saying nothing. Aramis looked down at his hands; he knew there was no way Porthos would leave him to wander the forest alone. The man could be quiet as a mouse if he wanted; a deadly combination to his size and strength. Yet Aramis knew not one kinder soul.

Aramis felt his breath catch and looked down to his hands which were still shaking. His breath caught again and again. At first he thought he was crying but then he realised he was hyperventilating. Suddenly larger gloved hands were covering his and Porthos was leaning in front of him.

"Aramis," He said softly.

Aramis was beginning to shake and panic a little. He looked up to Porthos' face after the man tightened his grip on his hands. Porthos' chocolate eyes were warm and soft. He looked incredibly sad. Somewhere near them a crow flew into the sky but while Aramis startled Porthos did not. He remained calm and not once did he remove his eyes from Aramis'.

Porthos' brows pulled together in worry as Aramis lost more control over his breathing.

"Just breathe, Réne." Porthos said, "Everything is going to be alright, I will make sure of it."

"Th-the wolf." Aramis managed to get out. He took a deep breath and started to breathe normally again.

Porthos looked down then and Aramis felt his stomach drop when he saw a tear escape his friend's scarred eye.

Porthos looked at him again, "I know," he whispered.

It was only after Aramis began to breathe normally and his body stopped trembling that Porthos let go. As the man stood he gently placed his hands under Aramis' arms to hoist him up. He did not let go when Aramis was on his feet, as if he were worried Aramis might fall back down. If he was honest, Aramis thought he just might. He knew Porthos would not embrace him first. In the months after Savoy, both Porthos and Athos had learned that in these situations Aramis did not like feeling caged. A few well aimed punches and kicks had confirmed that theory and Aramis still cringed slightly at the thought of it. He wasn't in Savoy.

"No," Porthos stated softly, "you're not."

Aramis looked at him a little surprised. Had he said that out loud?

"No," Aramis repeated, "I'm not in Savoy and nor will I ever be again."

This was the mantra they had taught him in those months and Porthos nodded his head slowly, an incredibly heartbroken expression on his face.

"Look at me, Aramis." Porthos whispered, "You are with me. And as long as I am here, you will be safe. This I promise you until my dying breath."

The words sent a deep warm weight down Aramis' chest right to his heart. He did not deserve this man, this kind soul who would jump in the line of danger to save him. Aramis never thought he was worth saving, he never thought his life was ever worth much at all. Yet when Porthos looked at him it was always with kindness. No matter the situation, Porthos would always stand by him. Even when they fought it was because one of them were worried about the other. What Porthos saw in Aramis that was worth such love, he never knew. Aramis looked down and realised that Porthos' grip under his arms had not faltered or loosened in the slightest.

"I…" Aramis stated, lost in his emotions.

"What is it?" Porthos asked, "What do you need?"

Aramis leaned forward a little and Porthos' grip suddenly tightened.

"Aramis?" Porthos asked, clearly having thought Aramis was falling forward instead of trying to get closer.

Aramis shook his head and took a step closer and realised that Porthos understood when he felt the hands fall from under his arms. Porthos held his arms up and when Aramis stepped closer he wrapped them tightly around him. Aramis wrapped his arms around Porthos in return and felt himself sink a little as he relaxed. He shoved his face into the crook of Porthos' neck and sighed deeply. Porthos tightened his hold and moved a hand up to push the back of Aramis' head so that his face would be closer. There was never anything an embrace from Porthos could not cure. If Aramis were a selfish man he would ask Porthos to hold him every day and the beauty of it would be that Porthos would never deny him. Porthos would hug Aramis everyday if Aramis asked and he felt himself smile softly at the realisation. He huffed out a soft breath and felt Porthos rest his head above his own. Porthos pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head and he closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how long they were standing there until Porthos slowly released him.

"C'mon," Porthos said, "Athos is probably worrying himself over us. Do you feel better?"

He kept his hands on the sides of Aramis' arms and studied his face carefully.

"Yes," Aramis said, trying to smile but failing, "Thank you brother."

Porthos gave him a soft smile, "There is nothing to thank me for, Aramis. You're my brother. And besides, if you're sad then I am sad too."

Aramis swallowed and he let Porthos guide him back to the horses. Porthos walked closely beside him and they met Athos and d'Artagnan halfway there. They had brought the horses closer so that they could walk around the scene they had come across without Aramis having to witness it again. When they rode back Porthos rode next to him, staying as close to his side as the horses would allow.

...

I have an idea for the next one and for the final chapter. That leaves three more that I have yet to decide on. So, if there is anyone out there who has an idea for Aramis being hugged please share :)