Archive of Our Own ^beta

     "It's getting to be a regular blizzard out there," Porthos observed from the spacious cave the musketeers were camping in.

     "Oh, how I envy d'Artagnan. Sleeping in a warm home with the woman he loves." Aramis said with a chuckle.

     "A woman who is married." Athos reminded him.

     Aramis cracked a smile, about to retort when a saddled horse burst into the cave with a whinny, stomping its hooves as it flared its nostrils with a huff.

     Athos was the first to get up. "That's d'Artagnan's horse." He said, cautiously approaching the animal, cooing in a placating tone.

     "If this is his horse, where's d'Artagnan?" Aramis asked, looking worryingly towards the cave's entrance. "And why would he be out in this storm?"

     "They must have gotten separated somehow," Porthos said, already moving to tack up his own horse.

     "It's too dangerous to go out in this snow," Athos warned.

     "If I go with him, we'll be fine," Aramis assured him. "But if d'Artagnan is out there somewhere, injured or lost, he won't survive the night in this weather." He said, getting his own horse ready.

     Athos sighed but conceded to the point. "I'll keep the fire going. All three of you will need it by the time you get back." He walked over, setting a hand on Aramis' leg. "Both of you be careful." He murmured, looking between them.

     They nodded, and Athos backed off to let them go, his eyes shining with worry.

     The horse huffed, butting its head against his chest, and the musketeer sighed, reaching up to rub its nose. "Come on, then. Let's get you tacked down." He told it, taking off the horse's equipment and rubbing it down.

-

     Aramis and Porthos trudged through the snow on horseback, moving slowly through the storm that swirled around them, the thick snowflakes making it hard to see.

     They stayed close together, ensuring that their voices would not be swallowed by the wind if they needed to communicate. Their eyes strained to distinguish shapes and shadows among the white. Color had been nearly eradicated by the thick blanket of snow covering everything in sight, and only when the wind blew exceptionally hard was enough snow knocked off the branches to reveal brown and evergreen.

     They had been riding for nearly forty minutes, though due to their slow pace, they were still relatively close to their campsite when Aramis noticed a snowdrift that looked a bit different in shape from the others. "Porthos! Over here!" He shouted, the wind robbing his voice of volume until Porthos could barely hear it.

     They moved a little closer before they were dismounting their steeds, keeping a tight hold on their reins as they dug through the snow.

     The layers of white gave way to layers of red followed by layers of leather until they finally unearthed d'Artagnan's face, his skin deathly pale.

     Aramis felt for a pulse while Porthos uncovered the rest of his body. "He's alive!" He reported, helping to dig him out of the snow.

     They worked quickly to get d'Artagnan perched on a horse with Aramis at his back, holding him close as they rode back to the cave as fast as possible, feeling the time d'Artagnan had left before he died of exposure quickly ticking by.

-

     They thundered into the cave, pulling up their horses quickly. "How is he? Athos asked, helping to lower the unconscious man off the horse.

     "Alive, but he won't be for long if we can't warm him up," Porthos grunted, moving to lay out one of their blankets.

     "Got it," Athos replied, the two working together to divest the young man of his wet clothes. "What's the blood from?" He asked.

     "Don't know. We couldn't check for a wound in the storm." Aramis answered, undressing down to his smalls.

     Athos grabbed another blanket, rubbing the young man down to dry him off and generate better blood flow. "There's no injury that I see. The blood isn't his." He said, moving to lay the man down next to Aramis on the blanket.

     Porthos tossed the last two blankets over them before he and Athos undressed as well, the two of them burrowing under the blankets, Porthos at d'Artagnan's back, and Athos on Aramis' other side.

     "You think he had an altercation with someone on his way here?" Aramis asked, rubbing some warmth into d'Artagnan's hands, as Athos wrapped his arms around him, warming him as well after the frigid rescue mission.

     "Maybe. Could explain why he was out here to begin with." Porthos murmured, doing the same with d'Artagnan's arms. His legs moved to hold his feet between them, the man cursing softly at how cold the young man was.

     Warming their friend was a slow, almost agonizing process as they waited for the color to return to d'Artagnan's blue lips and white cheeks. His lips were a faint shade of purple when they got their first sign that their method was working. d'Artagnan was shivering, the feeling returning to his body along with the warmth.

     Before long, the man's eyelids fluttered, and he groaned, moaning pitifully as his body ached with the returning heat.

     "Easy, d'Artagnan. We've got you, lad." Aramis murmured, his hand now in the young man's hair, letting him warm his face against his neck.

     d'Artagnan whimpered, his body fiercely trembling as he pressed closer to Aramis' chest.

     Porthos pushed his chest against his back, the larger man running warmer than Aramis, and d'Artagnan sighed, twisting around slowly to seek out the warmer body.

     They both held him close as the man trembled and fell asleep once more.

     When he awoke again, it was with hazy eyes that stared up at Porthos as he mumbled.

     The man blinked, exchanging a glance with Aramis and Athos before looking down at d'Artagnan again. "What was that, mate?" He asked.

     The younger man whined softly, mouth opening in a babbled steam of nonsense as he shifted restlessly, trying to push the blankets off himself.

     Porthos' eyes widened, and he quickly yanked the blankets back up before they lost the warmth they held.

     “Noooo.” d'Artagnan protested, the word long and drawn-out as he struggled against Porthos' hold on the blankets, his hands pushing clumsily against him, fumbling as if they couldn't get a good grip on his arm.

     He quickly wore himself out doing that, and the man dropped back against Porthos' shoulder, unconscious.

     The third time he woke up, his lips were a much healthier looking pink, and his shivering had died down to the occasional tremble.

     He blinked his eyes open, rolling away from Porthos' chest. He yawned, looking around at his new surroundings, confusion evident on his face.

      "d'Artagnan?" Aramis tried. "You're safe, don't worry." He murmured.

     "Do you remember what happened, d'Artagnan?" Athos asked, and the man shook his head.

     He trembled softly, curling up under the blankets. "W-What happened?" He asked, coughing lightly.

     "You got stuck in a blizzard. But you're going to be just fine." Aramis assured him, and d'Artagnan nodded quietly, wincing a little as he pressed his face into Aramis' shoulder.

     "What else?" He asked against his shoulder, sounding almost scared, his mind still muddled, leaving the man feeling confused and vulnerable.

     "Nothing that can't wait for you to feel better," Aramis whispered, pulling him a bit closer. "Just rest now. You're safe and warm. That's all you need to worry about." He told him, feeling a weak nod in response.

     They still had questions for the young man about what had happened, but they could wait. The most important thing for the moment was keeping their friend warm and well cared for.