Evening My Lovelies :)
First off sorry about not uploading last night, felt really ill after work so just ended up falling asleep when I got in (slept like 14 hours!) anyways to make up for it I'm going to upload two chapters today :)
I've also spent most of today writing - I'm on a proper roll at the moment, managed to write like 4 chapters :D
Also TRIGGER warning near the end of this chapter: I don't really go into any details or explicitly say that it happens but its something I wouldn't wish on anyone and felt I should just give you all a heads up just in case.
Anyways thanks again to all of you who follow/favourite/review this story you all rock!
Enjoy
xxx
Chapter Nine: Fear
D'Artangan could barely contain his nerves at the thought of two of the three men he loved dearly wandering around injured while he was stuck here unable to help.
He had forced himself to shift over to Aramis when the others had left – the pain in his legs almost made him pass out, but the need to get to the Spaniard overruled everything else. He had been ecstatic when the medic had awoken earlier but he knew he wouldn't be able to relax until they were all safely out of this cursed house.
"…You okay 'Tan?" Aramis asked weakly. The sharpshooter had seen the bloodstained fabric wrapped around both of the boy's legs, and if he was honest with himself he needed to focus on anything but the burning pain in his back.
"Don't think I'll be walking anytime soon" D'Artangan replied grimly as he looked at his legs – had Marcel's men left it at just the one injured he would have been able to at least hobble out… but now, now he doubted he'd even be able to stand without being in agony much less walk.
Before Aramis could reply to the Gascon's surprisingly honest admission of his injuries with anything other than a sympathetic smile a petrified shriek penetrated the air.
Christelle had thanked her lucky stars that the majority of Marcel's men had been stationed on the ground floor – and her, having hoped for this, had climbed a tree to enter the building through a first floor window.
Infiltration complete Christelle began her snooping, implementing every evasion and stealth technique she had picked up from growing up in the Court Of Miracles she made her way through the rooms. She doubted Marcel would be holding Porthos up here, but that didn't mean that he definitely hadn't, nor that he hadn't stashed his belongings there – and as a fellow child of the Court Christelle understood the importance of these items to her friend.
It didn't take her long to locate Porthos's weapons – clearly Marcel wanted to admire all the things he had stolen as they were laid in amongst other valuables that she knew didn't belong to either Porthos or Marcel, such a women's jewels or ornate trinkets.
Attaching his pistol and sword to her belt and stashing the dagger in her boot, Christelle was about to move rooms when she heard the distant sounds of battle. Dropping to the floor she crawled he way over to the window so to not be seen by anybody who might have chosen that exact moment to look up. Peering over the edge of the window Christelle felt her mouth drop open – she had heard of Athos's skill with a sword, Porthos had told her many tales of elder musketeer but it was a completely different thing to actually see him in action.
Below her, just outside the manor was Athos, fighting and beating at least fifteen armed men. Christelle watched in awe as the musketeer attacked with such elegance and finesse that it was almost like a dance, only to wince as she watched a man, larger than Porthos, slam his sword hilt into the musketeer's hand, and although she was too far away to be sure, she was confident that the hand had been broken.
She continued to watch the fight until she saw the musketeer get knocked unconscious. Cursing the fact that she now had two men to find, Christelle moved to continue her search of the upstairs rooms.
She had been so focused on her search that she had no idea how much time had gone by when she was startled by the sound of a gunshot.
Panic swelled up in the small woman as the thought of Porthos being shot bombarded her mind. She prayed that it had not been him, that maybe one of the other men she had traveled with had fired the shot. Pushing away morbid thoughts Christelle continued her search, though if there was a sense of urgency in her step she paid it no heed.
"Chrissy? Where are you? I know you're here somewhere my dear" came a voice that sent shivers down the young girl's spine as she desperately tried not to break down and have a panic attack. Not that scared little girl anymore, I wont let him hurt me again she recited to herself in an attempt to give herself courage.
Marcel continued to call for her as he unknowingly approached the room she was currently hiding in. Drawing her sword at the sound of approaching footsteps she prayed that she would not forget all the lessons Porthos had taught her when it came to handling a sword she felt her heartbeat increase rapidly as Marcel stopped by the door.
"There you are my love" Marcel spoke as he approached the young woman, a smirk growing as he notice the slight tremble of her body and the way whenever he approached, she stepped back. "I've missed you"
"Where are Porthos and his friends?" she asked, impressed with herself by the lack of fear in her voice, "what have you done with them?"
"Don't tell me you're still hung up on that worthless piece of dirt are you?" Marcel mocked, anger creeping into his voice "He'll never feel the same, you know that. It has always been and will always be Flea"
"He's worth a hundred of you!" Christelle snarled as she lunged at him.
The two of them fought for several minutes and while Christelle had the advantage in terms of skill and speed, Marcel had her beat on brute force, every clash of their blades sending shockwaves down her arm until she could no longer maintain the grip on her sword, dropping it to the ground.
Marcel, wasting no time, grabbed the young woman's arms and flung her onto the bed before climbing on top of her, pinning her.
"I'll make it so that he'll never want you" Marcel snarled as began to rip at her clothes.
No longer concerned with acting strong Christelle screamed as she struggled to fight back.
Athos glanced over to his brother as they made their way up to the manor's first floor, having found no sign of the missing woman on the ground level. Since they heard the woman scream minutes earlier Porthos's face had hardened and the musketeer had ignored all attempts at conversation.
"Porthos isn't that?" Athos murmured quietly as a swaying figure appeared in the distance from a doorway, heading their way.
"Chris!" Porthos exclaimed, picking up the pace to meet the woman half way.
Christelle honestly didn't think that her name had ever sounded so good and she almost collapsed in relief at the sight of her beloved friend. Instead she ran to him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she was enveloped into the safety of his arms.
"We heard you scream are you okay" Porthos said after a couple of moments, pushing the girl back to get a better look at her – he could see several bruises beginning to form on her face and to his utter disgust her clothes were all torn and disheveled.
"I'm okay" she reassured her friend as she wiped the tears from her eyes "Marcel's dead" she finished before noticing the lack of two of the men.
"Where are the others, are they okay I heard a shot?"
"Marcel shot Aramis, I managed to get the bullet out but it needs stitching, was too dark before and Marcels men stabbed D'Artangan in both of his legs" Athos replied sensing whatever happened or almost happened to the girl was something she did not want to discuss.
Christelle nodded slowly, before turning to the elder musketeer, her face now devoid of all the earlier panic and fear "You have the medic's supplies?"
"Yes" Athos replied wondering where she was going with this, having never mentioned skill or interest in healing.
"Take me to them and I'll do what I can"
"Her needlework's as good as 'Mis's 'Thos don't worry" Porthos assured his friend when it looked like he was about to question her skills.
"And don't think I haven't noticed that I need to look at the pair of you as well" she retorted, her tone fond as she slowly followed the two men down the stairs to where their friends awaited them.
