A Musketeer fanfiction again! I can't help it, I just love those four too much. :) I'll be updating this every other day.

Okay, here comes a big surprise: The Musketeers aren't mine!

Enjoy.


The sun was big and hot, the bucket in my hands rusty and heavy. I was climbing the slope slowly, minding each of my dawdling steps. Our house was without question one of the most beautiful in the village, but it was also one of the most impractical. Climbing the hill it was positioned on ten times a day just to bring fresh water into the household was something I, along with my mom and my younger sister, could happily live without.

But I wasn't going to complain, much less in times like those when drunks, mercenaries and bandits were numerous, the brawls they brought with them even more so and people willing to help few and far between. Our house was at least a little ways up from the centre of the village, which made us the last targets of fights and usually gave us enough time to get to safety.

I walked on. The trees were tall and cast long shadows on the ground. The air was chilly. I wrapped my coat tightly around myself and glanced at the forest.

Something didn't seem quite right.

I stopped. I listened. I waited. The wind howled. Trees shook. And through that, through the assaulting chirp of the forest, I could hear hooves. Definitely. The sound was distinctive enough for me to be sure.

There weren't supposed to be any riders in these parts of the woods, were there?

Before I could move, a hand wrapped itself tightly around my mouth. My chest exploded in the sudden burst of energy my heart released in a series of strong thumps. The bucket slipped through my fingers and landed on the ground. Cold water spilled over my freezing legs, but I didn't notice. I squirmed and kicked, yet nothing seemed to work against the sheer power holding me.

And then there was a voice in my ear. "Shhh. It's okay. Be still. Be quiet."

I listened, even though I didn't know why.

The hands dragged me a few strong steps back, then pushed me behind a tree. And not a second too soon, because it was in that instant that a group of riders burst out of the dense bushes on our left, passed our hideout with booming hooves, and vanished in the trees on our right.

The stomping went further away, became quieter. The forest animals picked up their singing again. The serene was slowly reinstated and the hand around my mouth dropped away. It was all over as suddenly as it had begun, and it left me breathless and struggling with the question if any of it had happened at all.

"Phew. That was close," a masculine voice said behind me. I whirled around, my instincts on high alert. Sweat was running down my forehead in beads, my hands shaking from the stress. I couldn't bring up the will to care, though.

Was I going to have to fight? Was I going to be kidnapped? It could happen. It had most definitely happened before.

Standing in front of me was a tall man, his hair brown and his face pretty attractive. He smiled at me with white teeth and looked me up and down. I had to admit that the smile was pretty comforting. "You okay?"

My heart calmed down a notch.

Before I could say anything, though, another voice flew over to us from deeper in the forest. "Aramis? Did you get him? Where the hell are you?"

"Here!"

Right. Of course he wasn't alone. People like him probably never were.

Three other men joined us. Three. I let my eyes roam over them. One was huge and bulky, seemingly strong enough to rip the sword he was holding apart with his bare hands. Next to him were two smaller guys, one older and one younger, one more sullen and gloomy, the other already smiling down on me with cheeky eyes. I immediately knew that that was the troublemaker of the group.

"It wasn't one of the bandits," the one who had pulled me behind the tree explained, waving his arms in my direction. "It's a lady." He suggestively wiggled his eyebrows and I stared at him in shock, unable to wrap my head around the situation. To my defence, it was a weird situation.

The young man with long, dark hair rolled his eyes. "Don't mind him," he said to me, drawing my attention to his face. He was handsome, too. All of them were, now that I thought about it. I felt my cheeks blush at the random notion and instantly hoped the gloom around us would be strong enough to hide the redness.

But the man didn't seem to mind at all. He went on without missing a beat. "In fact, don't mind any of them. This is Aramis. He will probably try to get you into bed. Don't listen to him, that is the best advice I can give you."

"Hey!" Aramis complained, but I was quicker.

"Excuse me?!" I exclaimed, using my best outraged voice. It wasn't too difficult. I was outraged, after all, among other things.

The man only shrugged, though. "Look, I'm just warning you." He turned to the big guy. "This is Porthos. He'll talk to you about our adventures. Don't believe everything he tells you."

"Oi!"

"And this is Athos. He probably won't talk at all. Don't worry, it's not you. It's him. He doesn't like … people."

As if to underline the statement, Athos only threw a toxic glare in the young guy's direction, but otherwise didn't say a thing. I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"And you?"

"Oh, of course. D'Artagnan at your service. We are of the king's Musketeers."

"You're Musketeers?" My heart skipped another beat, then started thrumming again as if it had gone mad. "You're here all the way from Paris?"

The man, d'Artagnan, nodded. He pointed in the vague direction in which the riders had vanished. "We overheard some bandits planning to attack this village, and decided to follow them. Give them a run for their money, right?"

My eyes went wide. "When are they attacking?"

"We don't know."

I looked at them, searched their faces for a reaction, for fear or nervousness or anything, but it just wasn't there. They were used to this, I reminded myself. It was their job to fight and be scared for their lives. But it wasn't their job to help every village in trouble, was it? They were there to protect the king and not every commoner in need. That was at least what I had been taught.

"And you're here to help?" I squeezed out finally, trying to keep the scepticism hidden.

"We sure are, Madame," Aramis answered from my left. He smiled at me. "Those bandits have been causing quite a bit of trouble here, have they not?"

I nodded and looked at the ground. "Yes. Yeah, they have. But no one ever listened to us. No one ever came to help."

Aramis winked. "Well, here we are."

"You're not enough." The words were out of my mouth before I knew what was happening. I nervously pursed my lips and timidly peeked up at them, but they didn't look angry in the least. If anything, they only seemed amused.

"I … I didn't –"

"Well, well," Aramis chirped. "Someone needs a little faith, don't they?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It's just … there are a lot of bandits."

The big man named Porthos joined the conversation for the first time. "That's okay. We've won against worse odds."

I pointed at d'Artagnan. "That one said I shouldn't believe everything you say."

"That you can believe," the oldest one put an end to it just as naturally as the king would have stopped an argument at court. Athos, I recalled. This was Athos. He seemed serious and trustworthy. He seemed a man of his word. "Madame, could you maybe show us the way to the nearest inn?"

"Yes. No. I mean, where are my manners? Come with me. Mother is just preparing lunch. You should join us."

"We don't want to intrude –" Athos started, but Porthos was already pushing him out of the way and shushing him in the process.

"We would love to," he said, his eyes glinting. "Have I told how hungry I am?"

"Yes," d'Artagnan teased, seemingly exaggerated, yet a grin was playing around his full lips. "About ten times in as many minutes. Seriously, Porthos, you should get your stomach in check."

"Oi! You don't get to talk! You stole half my breakfast today!"

"I was trying to help you get in form. Since I stay lean –"

"Have you just called me fat?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

But it was too late. Porthos had run toward the young man and scooped him up, then slung him over his broad shoulders like a sack of potatoes. D'Artagnan cried out, immediately starting to beg for the burly guy to put him down. I merely rolled my eyes – they were acting like five-year-old children and they were going to save my village from a group of bandits? – and started leading the remaining Musketeers up the hill toward my house. The other two would find their way well enough.


Ever since I could remember, I had always been taught never to interact with strangers. Bringing one home was still a whole different category, not to mention bringing home four, which was why it wasn't the least bit surprising when Father jumped up from his chair as soon as we entered our house, and greeted the newcomers with a cold glare.

"What is this?" he inquired. He glanced at me for the shortest of moments. "Where's the water?"

"I dropped it."

"What is this?" he repeated.

Athos stepped forward. In the short time of knowing the four men, I had quickly concluded that he had to be their leader. Besides being the oldest, he was also the only one who seemed to have any kind of competence.

"We are Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan of the king's Musketeers. We have come here with news. A group of bandits are planning to attack your village, sir, and we want to help."

Father looked them over, his stare calculating and piercing. I shrunk into myself. Mother cooked on and Marie, my little sister, continued peeling her peas. We had learnt not to interrupt Father when he was in such a mood.

"Why should I believe you?"

They were all happy to let Athos explain. "I am afraid you have no choice but to trust us, sir."

"Why would you want to help?"

"Why would we want to deceive you in such a way?"

Father thought. He eyed all four of them musingly, and then again. The silence dragged before he nodded to himself and seemed to reach a conclusion. "Very well. When are they going to attack?"

"We are not sure," Athos answered, "but we suppose that it is going to be tonight."

"How do you know this?"

"We have been watching them prepare. They have been working restlessly for days now, but today they appear to be finished. The only logical conclusion we can draw from that –"

"Is that they are ready." Father nodded once more, this time to everyone around. "We don't have much time, then. Let's move."