So this is the beginning of the continuation, it is only short but I wanted to complete it quickly so that I could upload it at the same time as I started the story so it wasn't just me literally posting Charliethemusketeerian's work, enjoy :)
Aramis cried out in pain as the musket ball wedged in his arm. D'Artagnan whipped his head round towards his brother and was about to leap off his horse to reach his friend when a blinding pain in his leg caused him to fall to the ground. He looked up at Aramis, who returned his gaze and gave him a faint smile to let him know that he was alright, although at the moment there was a lot of evidence to dispute this.
Aramis turned to check that his other comrades were okay just in time to see a third musket ball find its mark in Porthos' side. He desperately hoped it had missed his vital organs; it looked like all was well.
And then the worst happened. He saw a fourth and final musket ball whizz towards Athos' head. There was a spray of blood and Athos fell ungracefully to the ground. All that Aramis could hear was his heart pounding in his chest; the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. He heard Porthos shout something but couldn't hear, or wouldn't he supposed. The pain in his arm had numbed to a dull throb which he could easily ignore. That summed up the entire world to him right now. Just a dull, numb place that could all be ignored, all except for Athos. The way he had fallen was almost the worst thing. One moment he was sitting there, a look of deep concern on his face, the next that was all gone and he was falling, falling in both the literal and metaphorical sense. Aramis could vaguely feel himself slipping from his saddle, could hear someone calling out but none of that seemed to matter.
"Aramis!" Porthos shouted as he saw his brother slipping from his saddle. He cast a desperate glance backwards to where d'Artagnan was crouching by Athos' side. He had seen the bullet hit Athos straight in the head. There was no way he could still be alive but he knew they couldn't give up hope, not yet. Besides, for now he had to concentrate on not losing two brothers in one go. He caught Aramis as he began to fall to the ground and immediately sunk to his knees. He had almost forgotten about his own injury in his desperation and shock, but now he was painfully reminded. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head from the foggy feeling that was beginning to invade. He stared at d'Artagnan, he thought he saw the boy smile and wave him over but he couldn't fully concentrate, and soon his eyes began to droop closed.
d'Artagnan desperately beckoned Porthos over. Groaning as the musketeer closed his eyes. He looked around. Aramis had fainted from the shock of seeing his brother be killed and Porthos had fainted from his injuries. Athos lay unmoving on the ground, but, as he had been trying to gesture to Porthos earlier, he was still breathing. He shook his shoulders desperately but he didn't awake. d'Artagnan fought back the urge to sob from a combination of the pain in his leg and the state of his friends.
He was suddenly aware of a pressing feeling of loneliness, surrounded by his brothers.
There we go, hope it didn't disappoint after the brilliant first chapter, please review :)
