This chapter is longer than the first two, and makes me very proud. :3 It fulfills some of Mascota's prompts; I hope you all enjoy! I hope you all appreciate what I went through to get you this so soon! Commence the reading!
They musketeers, Aramis, Athos, Porthos, and D'Artagnan, were surrounded. Nothing happened on patrols. It never happened to the other musketeers; why did they always get attacked by bandits?
Jumping from their horses, the musketeers fired into the bandits before drawing their swords for closer combat.
Athos' world dimmed to cutting, slashing, ducking, and stabbing; as he dispatched one bandit, another was sure to take his place. His sword was slick with blood. A larger than average bandit with his face covered with a swath of fabric stepped up. He was more skilled and controlled than the average mercenary, and Athos found it difficult for himself to keep up.
Finally the giant lashed out with his foot to kick Athos in the knee, simultaneously slashing a shallow cut just beneath Athos' collarbone.
Athos groaned as he collapsed. The mercenary above him chuckled. So focused was he on his impending victory, he didn't notice the dagger hidden in the fallen musketeer's boot until it was imbedded in his ribcage.
Athos stood shakily, picked up his sword and dagger, and stepped over the bandit's still body. He shook off the warm blood covering his gloved hand and arm up to the elbow.
With no bandits immediately around him, Athos took in the rest of the fighting in the woods. Aramis and Porthos were doing well and most of the mercenaries were either littering the forest floor or fleeing.
Athos spotted D'Artagnan. He was disarmed and completely weaponless, backed against a tree and panting. The obvious leader of the group was standing in front of him with D'Artagnan's own sword leveled against him. The point was scarcely a few inches from the youngest musketeer's heart.
The bandit reached into a holster strapped to his leg and pulled forth a loaded blunderbuss. He lowered the sword and pointed the musket at D'Artagnan's heart instead.
The young musketeer raised his chin and stared into the bandit's eyes with unadulterated pride and defiance.
Athos began running. He feet grew heavier. The air thickened around him and in his lungs. D'Artagnan's face merged with his younger brother's until he could no longer tell who he was running to.
"NO!" he shouted as he pushed the boy aside and the bandit fired.
Pain shot through his chest and blood pounded in his temples. He felt hard ground beneath his back but couldn't remember falling. He felt wet drops land on his face and heard the all-too familiar sound of a sword being pulled from a body.
D'Artagnan's face appeared in his swirling vision, framed by the sky and tree canopy above.
"Athos? Athos, can you hear me?" asked D'Artagnan, worry evident in his eyes and voice. It seemed too much effort to answer him so he didn't. The pain had condensed to an area on the left side of his chest. Aramis and Porthos joined his vision as well, asking mundane questions of pain as all went dark.
Athos could feel pain radiating from his shoulder like claws. He groaned and shifted but couldn't be bothered to open his eyes just yet.
"Oh no," a voice grumbled above him. "I think he's waking up."
"He can't wake up yet. Aramis hasn't removed the bullet from his shoulder yet."
"I'm ready."
"We don't have any pain medicine."
"Just knock him out, Porthos! He's done it to you enough times."
"I knew it!"
Pain then nothing.
Two days later Athos awoke a second time. This time he was in his own bed, in his own room at the garrison.
A dip in his mattress alerted him to the presence of someone else. He moved his head groggily to better view the person sitting at his side. D'Artagnan. Athos sighed and the smallest of small smiles crossed his lips.
D'Artagnan smiled at him. "I'm glad you survived," he said.
"I'm glad you survived too," replied Athos. "Despite your desperate attempts to the contrary."
D'Artagnan chuckled. "Do you remember what happened?"
"Bits and pieces. Vaguely."
"I've never seen you run so fast."
"I've never seen someone so prepared to die. It's a little worrisome."
"Don't worry, Athos, I don't plan on dying for a very long time."
"Good."
D'Artagnan looked down briefly before meeting the older man's eyes again. "You saved my life. I can never begin to repay you."
Athos shook his head. "You don't need to repay anything. You have helped me redeem myself. I owe you."
D'Artagnan looked slightly confused, but completely trusting. "I'll leave you for the night then. It's late and you need to heal so I can kick your butt in training."
"If you were half as good as you think you are that bandit wouldn't have kicked yours," Athos slurred, his eyes drooping with sleep.
"Night Athos."
"Nigh' D'Artagna'."
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