Disclaimer: Don't own and never will.
AN: Okay, writing for a category that will probably flatline on arrival is probably not the most useful way to spend my limited writing time, but the muse does insist.
AN2: Contains scenes of death. Because no matter how you phrase it, swords are built to kill.
The tall redheaded man gurgled as Corrine ran her sword through his throat. He fell to the ground, but she barely had time to register his death when another red-coated man took his place, swinging an axe. Narrowly missing her with his first strike, another blade hit him in the guts and with a swift twist, his guts ended up on the floor.
"Sorry sugar, can't let ya kill my girl Corrine here," Renée said with a flourish.
Corrine leaned against the wall breathing hard as the fighting halted momentarily. Wiping the blood from her sword, she quickly glanced around the hallway they'd been fighting in. Wide enough for three people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, it had proved the ideal place for Corrine and her musketeers to make their stand.
It was supposed to be a peaceful mission, the King was supposed to be meeting some foreign diplomats. Instead it had turned into an ambush.
"There must be hundreds of them down there. How are we going to get out of this?" Armina asked as she looked out the window, a sea of red below them and Corrine sighed.
"I don't see how we can," Corrine replied as she knelt down beside Viveca, who was clearly struggling to stand, despite several gaping wounds on her chest and legs. "The King is safe and that's all that matters."
"What could be more romantic than dying as we hold off hoards of enemies to save our king?" Aramina asked, although her smile was very forced.
"I was thinking that dying of old age would be better," Renée deadpanned in response and Armina glared at her, but before either of them could say anything more, they were interrupted by a coughing fit from Viveca.
"Leave me behind and I'll cover your retreat," Viveca said as she looked at the others with fierce determination. "I'm not going to live anyway."
"No way!" Renée exclaimed.
"As if we would abandon you!" Armina protested indignantly.
"No, we stick together," Corrine said firmly as she looked around at her friends. "We're musketeers. All for one…"
"And one for all!" the others finished as one. Drawing their blades, they turned and faced the next wave of enemy soldiers.