Sorry about the late (and I mean late) fix. I had to clean this up a little more. It was really bugging me. This was one of my first fanfics and it suffered my sleep deprived imagination. I have since polished my writing quite a bit and hope you will enjoy future posts. Thanks for the reviews and for those who pointed out my many, many errors on the first attempt. *hangs head in shame* I'll do better from now on.
Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing (and rewriting) it.
Four men rode across a clearing in the French countryside. Seated in front of the leader was a beautiful woman garbed in fine silks. The Musketeers had been fleeing for two days and the horses were starting to show their fatigue. Athos clutched the queen tightly to keep her from falling. She has passed out hours ago. Slowing his horse he turned to his comrades, "We need to stop, the Queen needs rest and the horses could do with a bit of rest themselves." Aramis, a man tall with milky skin, deep brown eyes, and a dark beard and mustache, nodded and spurred his horse forward to scout for a safe place to rest. Porthos pulled alongside Athos and the queen, "We are still a days hard ride from Paris, I think we should fight them. We cannot outrun them much longer Athos. Even D'artangnan has gone quiet."
"Oi! What is that supposed to mean?" Retorted the youngest musketeer riding a few paces behind the group. His shoulder length hair tied by a leather chord at the nape of his neck. His Gascon bloodlines prevalent in his tan skin, dark eyes and fine facial features. "It just means that you talk too much." quipped Porthos.
"Always quick to the point aren't you Porthos?" Fumed D'artagnan. Athos could see it was time to step in before it came to blows, D'artagnan and Porthos were always getting into a row. They did not dislike each other, quite the opposite actually. Porthos enjoyed playing his wit against the intelligent youth and D'artagnan enjoyed matching his strength in a fight against the group's strongest member. "Gentlemen, now is not the time. Look, Aramis has returned."
Aramis directed his steed over to the others. "There is a small hunting shack inside the tree line just over the next ridge." Just then a loud snapping sound rang out as a ball embedded itself in the ground at their feet. D'artagnan looked to the others, "Time to go?"
"I think for once we agree," responded Porthos.
"To the woods." Commanded Athos as he spurred his horse, Queen Anne jerked awake as the group took off. Athos had to shout over the sound of the pursuer's musket fire, "D'artagnan, Porthos you know what to do." Both the Musketeer's responded by directing their steeds away from Athos and Aramis to circle around and flank the group of mercenaries. Within minutes Athos and Aramis reached the treeline and quickly dismounted and started to lead the steeds through the trees with Aramis leading a winding path to keep their tracks as hidden as possible. As they approached the small dilapidated shack, Athos helped the Queen down and turned to Aramis. "I'll hide the horses, if it sounds like they have found us out, you take Her Majesty and go on foot." Without waiting for a response Athos lead the horses away. Aramis helped Anne into the shelter and as the hid they could hear the distant sound of gunfire. They sat huddled together in silence for an hour as the sun began to set and the sound of musket fire had died away, when the sound of an owl caused Aramis to move to the small opening in the wall that had, at one point, been a window and made a similar bird call. A few seconds later Athos entered the shelter. Anne watched as he looked around as if searching for something and then to Aramis, who shook his head. The silent exchange was more than enough for the Queen to know something was not right, the others should have been back by now. Athos opened his wine skin and offered it to Anne, "Majesty, please drink this, it will help you rest." Anne grabbed it and spoke in a low tone, "The others, will they be okay by themselves?" Aramis crouched down next to Anne and offered his best smile,
"Of course, Majesty, after all we are Musketeers." Anne could hear by his tone that he was worried too. They sat in silence for what seemed like forever when a rustling outside the shack sent both men for their weapons. "Aramis! Athos!" the call was from Porthos. They both visibly relaxed and headed out into the darkness.
Athos strained his eyes to see in the blackness until he could make out the shadow of Porthos supporting an injured D'artagnan. Athos and Aramis rushed to their side, "What happened?" Demanded Athos. Porthos was winded, but did not seem to let Aramis replace him at D'artagnan's side, "We got the group that was following us, but I lost my horse and D'artagnan took a ball to the shoulder. What's worse is that looked to be only half of the original band of merry men we encountered a few days ago. I fear that that was only the advance party."
D'artagnan gave an exhausted chuckle and lifted his head to better look at his comrades, "I'll be okay, it's not as bad as it looks, I can still ride." He flashed his white teeth, which seemed to glow in the fading light. Porthos shifted the young man slightly resulting in a weak grunt from D'artagnan.
"Little brother, you can barely walk at this point. We'll need to get that ball out before we continue."
They slowly made their way into the shack. Anne stood as they entered letting a small gasp escape as she saw the state the two other musketeers were in. Aramis pulled a candle out of his bag and lit it as D'artagnan was lowered to the floor of the shack. He hissed through his teeth as his injured shoulder came in contact with the ground. Anne could see the sweat beading up, dampening his brow and plastering hair that had escaped the leather chord to his forehead.
Athos knelt down at D'artagnan's side and grabbing each side of the blood drenched whole in his shirt ripped it open further to reveal the extent of the damage. Porthos positioned himself at the boy's head and raised D'Artagnon's head and shoulders into his lap. Between gasps of air the Gasgon manage to smile saying, "Hey... I liked this shirt..." Porthos patted his good shoulder gently and replied, "You must be injured worse than we thought, that shirt is bloody hideous."
The musketeers all laughed, but Anne could tell there was a tenseness in the laughter and a bit of truth in what Porthos had said about the wound. She edged closer and could see exactly what made the wound cause the stone hearted Musketeer's their unease. The ball had implanted itself deep into D'Artagnon's shoulder just below his collar bone. Aramis handed a slim dagger to Athos and stood, "I am going to keep lookout be ready to dowse that candle if I call."
Athos nodded and began pulling one of his belts off, "D'artagnan this is going to hurt, just try and stay awake." With that he placed the strap in between the young Gasgon's teeth and let him bite down on it then positioned the blade over the wound and set to work opening it up enough to remove the musket ball. Even with D'Artagnon's best efforts to stay silent he began to groan loudly and struggle against Porthos's strong grip. Anne wanted to plug her ears against the boy's struggle, but instead move to his other side and began tearing at her gown to wipe away some of the blood and make it easier for Athos to see.
After the cuts were made Athos stuck his forefinger and thumb into the wound, this elicited a shout of pain from D'artagnan and the leather belt fell from his mouth and he bit down hard on his lip causing a small trickle of blood to start rolling down his chin. He began kicking his legs as Porthos struggled to keep him still. Athos screwed up his face with concentration, "Almost, I can feel it now." Just then Aramis came in in a flurry of cloaks immediately going for the candle to dowse it.
"Keep him quiet, they are a lot closer than we thought about two hundred meters to the south. I don't think they know we're here yet."
Darkness engulfed the tiny shack and as their eyes adjusted to the faint light of the moon, D'artagnan continued to struggle and Aramis started to hold his legs down. Anne could still hear his pain noises, but they sounded muffled, it was then that she noticed that Athos was still trying to get the ball out and Porthos has placed his hand over the young man's mouth, but instead of pulling his hand away, the Gascon instead had a grip on the larger man's sleeve pressing it harder against his mouth.
Tears started streaming from his eyes and that was too much for the young queen, only a few years older than the 20 year old Gascon she could not help herself, she began to cry quietly for his pain and his strength. Anne heard his breath hitch for a moment and almost thought that was the end until Athos sat back on his heels with something in his outstretched hand.
A collective sigh escaped the group as Athos picked up the same wines kin he had offered Anne earlier and poured it over the wound. As the liquid came in contact with D'Artagnon's skin a twig was heard snapping nearby. Everyone froze, including D'artagnan who held his breath to keep from screaming.
They sat still as statues, listening intently for what felt like hours. After feeling that the threat had passed Athos returned to cleaning the wound. Another dose of the bitter wineskin had D'Artagnon figeting, but it was obvious that his strength to fight was waning. Anne helped fix a bandage to the open wound. He would need a true surgeon to stitch the wound and stop the bleeding, but they had to make due with what they had.
Once the bandage was tied Athos leaned close to D'artagnan's ear so as to not be heard by any prying ears, "Rest for a few hours. We'll leave as soon as there is enough light to move quickly and quietly." Aramis patted D'Artagnon on the leg gently and stood heading back out to keep watch. Porthos simply leaned back against the wall behind him keeping his hand on the Gasgon's chest. Anne realized this was more than to comfort the boy, but to also monitor him in the dark while he rested. Athos removed his travelling cloak and draped it over the boy and then approached Anne. "Majesty, you should rest as well. It will be an early morning." He whispered into her ear as he pulled her own cloak tighter around her shoulders. With that Anne leaned against the corner farthest from the door and fell asleep.
D'artagnan was roused from his fevered dreams by a hand being pressed to his forehead. IT was Aramis. "Time to go," he said quietly "I found you a horse Porthos. D'artagnan's horse can't carry two." Porthos grunted in agreement, he was never a pleasant person in the mornings.
D'artagnan was showing signs of fever as Aramis turned to wake the queen he noted how tired he appeared, the cold sweat, and dark circles on an unusually pale face, but D'artagnan stood regardless of his pain.
Anne was woken by a gentle shake from Aramis. She opened her eyes to see D'artagnan standing against the far wall of the shack. Porthos standing by his side in case he should fall. Aramis helped Anne to her feet, she felt weak from fatigue and lack of a food, but she could not think of herself at the moment. The musketeers had all slept less, eaten less, and even suffered wounds on her behalf. She felt responsible for all of their misfortunes. Aramis lead her out to an awaiting Athos and four horses. After she was lifted onto the mount she would share with Athos, Anne watched as the musketeers helped their youngest member to his horse and gently lifted him into the saddle. She marveled at the bond between the men, of which all came from different backgrounds and had such different personalities.
"Will he be alright riding alone?" Anne asked. The answer she received was not what she expected. D'Artagnon raised his head and flashed his perfect smile that made the queen smile in kind and replied, "Why, Majesty, did you not know? Gasgons are horse people. I am more at home up here than anywhere on this Earth. I promise I will not slow us down." Aramis handed D'Artangon his wine skin to drink from before turning to the Queen and saying, "He is the best and fastest rider out of all of us. It would slow us down too much if he sat behind myself or Porthos." With that the others mounted their horses and they rode off in the direction of Paris.
During their flight across the French countryside Anne found herself constantly looking for the young Gascon, and every time she noticed the others doing the same and every time he would catch her staring he would give a pained smile. They rode hard as soon as they crossed into the outskirts of the capitol city and Anne did not realize why until she followed Porthos's gaze to D'artagnan. The silks wrapped around his chest and shoulder were stained red and his usual tan skin had grown extremely pale and the young man's lean frame was slouched forward over the front of his saddle. As if to add insult to injury it started to rain, but soon after Anne started noticing palace guards joining their entourage. The palace bells rang out as the mixed group burst into the palace courtyard.
King Louise came running down the palace steps servants in tow trying to hold a large umbrella over the King's head. The group slowed to a stop and Athos dismounted and helped Anne down. The King started addressing Athos, praising him and thanking him for the safe return of the queen, but Anne was not interested in her husbands words. Her gaze was on D'artagnan who was now being held up in his saddle by Porthos who had also dismounted and was standing next to D'artagnan's horse.
Shortly after the 'Thankyous' and invitations to a feast in the queen's honor, Anne was whisked away to be checked by the palace physician.
King Louise thanked the Musketeers for their bravery and valor and asked Athos if there was anything that he would like in exchange and all Athos could think of was getting help for his injured friend. "Your Majesty a reward is not necessary, however, If his grace could be so kind... Our companion D'artagnan was seriously injured and," before Athos could finish the request he heard Aramis's voice, "Athos!" Athos turned to see Porthos lowering the young Gascon to the ground, "D'artagnan! stay awake little brother. Your home now we're going to get you some help, open your eyes. " Porthos gently shook his younger counterpart.
The King looked inquisitively at the scene unfolding before him, then turning to the cardinal said, "Fetch my surgeon, quickly. This man has been hurt." The cardinal bowed slightly before turning away in a flurry of red and white.