The first part of our plan worked, we made it to the small window without any trouble at all. The Spaniards did have a watch set up, but the watchmen never actually patrolled, so it was all too easy to make it to the window.

A fog had rolled in, and was shrouding everything, so we had even more cover. And the wind was blowing snow over our tracks.

With D'artagnan watching my back, I opened the window as quietly as I could.

I slid inside, landing silently in the wall shrouded in darkness.

In fact, the entire room was dark. The only source of light must have been the window that I had just entered through.

D'artagnan hit the ground beside me and hissed, "Rogue? Where are you?"

I grabbed his arm in reply as movement rustled in the far end of the room, "Shh. I'm beside you. We're not alone in here."

D'artagnan reached forward with his free hand, and I heard him connect to a shelf. I reached out as well and my hand connected with a hanging lamp.

"Alright, cover your eyes for a moment." I whispered, before pulling my striker out of my bracers and lighting the lamp.

Orange light flooded my vision, and I blinked rapidly, before squeezing D'artagnan's arm, "You're good now." I told him, releasing his arm to grab the lamp.

I held it in front of me as I began to creep past the shelf we had been behind.

The borders of the room we entered were lined with shelves, but the center of the room and one corner of the room was bare. Except the bare corner wasn't empty, a figure was chained to the wall.

And it was Constance. An injured Constance.

D'artagnan lunged across the room at the figure, murmuring her name over and over again, encouraging her to wake up for him.

I walked behind him and grabbed Constance's arm, she was freezing.

I handed the lamp to D'artagnan and he stared at Constance's broken form in despair, taking the lamp numbly.

She was in bad shape, one of her arms was at an awkward angle and blood oozed out of her all over her body. Her stomach had several stab marks in it, and her arms and face were covered in cuts. There was a small pool of blood beneath her that was just beginning to dry, so it hadn't been that long. I hoped beyond hope that she didn't have an infection, or at least, one we couldn't catch before it did lasting damage.

This was Constance, my friend with such a big, kind heart that wasn't afraid to defend what was hers and was loyal to a fault. How could anyone do this to her?

I whipped off my cloak, wrapping it around Constance's shoulders.

She moaned as we shifted her off the floor, and her eyes fluttered.

D'artagnan put the lamp on the ground and cupped her cheek gently, murmuring her name until her eyes fluttered open and focused blearily on D'artagnan.

Her cracked lips rose in a fractured smile and she murmured in disbelief, "D'artagnan?"

D'artagnan nodded and I began to pick the locks on the chain holding her to the wall. She was barefoot, and her feet were cut painfully. Rage coursed through me, but I schooled my emotions quickly.

I could see D'artagnan was angry, though he was being impossibly gentle with Constance, so I would have to stay calm.

I finished with the chains as Constance grabbed D'art's arm, "You….. You came…." She murmured, smiling up at him tiredly. "Knew you would…"

D'artagnan drew in a shaky breath, offering her a small smile, "Of course I did, I could never leave you. Never you." He told her, honesty shining in his voice and his eyes as he tenderly picked her up so she was leaning against his chest. He ran his fingers gently through her tangled hair, and I coughed, getting her attention.

"Hi, Rogue, also here to save you." I offered her a cheeky grin, and in reply she giggled tiredly, before wincing in pain.

I winced as D'artagnan stiffened, "Okay, Constance, I'm going to check your ribs, okay? This might hurt."

She nodded bravely, clinging to D'artagnan like he was her life-line. He probably was in all honesty. She had just suffered the pain of her husband dying, then torture, at the hand of people she couldn't even understand. She had my respect before, but she had just heightened it.

I gently checked her ribs, finding that, though a few were cracked, none were broken, miraculously.

I took out a knife and cut off a strip of my tunic. Then, with the strip, I wrapped her midsection tightly. She made a cry of pain as the black fabric pressed against her multiple injuries, and D'artagnan hissed in warning to me. But if I didn't, she risked bleeding to death.

When I was finished I leaned back on my heels, "Well, we aren't going out the way we came. That'd be too much of a strain on her injuries."

D'artagnan nodded, shifting gently so Constance wasn't leaning against him so much.

Then the door opened, and light flooded inside more than what our meager lamp did.

A man stepped inside with a plate, but froze when he saw us.

Before I could even start to rise, I suddenly had an armful of Constance, and D'artagnan was attacking the man with a vicious sort of energy.

The poor man hadn't even stood a chance, he was dead before he hit the ground.

D'artagnan cleaned off his sword with a grim expression on his face, turned to me, then turned to the door, a light I didn't like bloomed in his eyes.

Before I could even begin to tell him no, he was already making his way through the door, shouting, "Take care of her, Rogue!"

I cursed in Welsh, loudly. I cursed the Spaniards. I cursed D'artagnan for being stupid. I cursed myself for not seeing it coming and preventing it. And I cursed everything in general. I could hear my mother's voice in the back of my mind telling me that the curses I was using were not nice things to say, and I politely told that voice to shut up. Or, as politely as I could manage right now.

Constance blinked at me, her addled mind having not caught up to the situation yet. "That didn't sound very nice." She noted, almost like a child.

I stood up carefully, taking Constance with me and attempting to ensure most of her weight was on me. I noticed that D'artagnan had knocked over the lamp in his haste to move, and I also noticed that the hot wax had already coated the bottom of the shelf near us. And last but not least, I noticed the open flame was already attaching itself to the shelf.

Wonderful.

I looked at Constance, biting my lip. I couldn't very well catch up to D'artagnan and get both of them out if we were staggering along, now could I?

"Sorry about this, Constance. It will aggravate your ribs a lot, but I'm not Porthos. I can't do this any other way." I said quickly, before stepping forward, bending over, and throwing Constance over my shoulders. One of her arms was slung over my shoulder, and I pinned that arm to my side, mindful of the broken one that dangled behind me. I shifted her as gently as I could to ensure she was draped over both of my shoulders as she cried out in pain. "Sorry, but we've got to catch up to your annoying lover." I huffed, before rushing out the door.