Another sad chapter! I hope you enjoy!

The reviews still aren't working, but a very lovely reader told me that it might take a couple of days to fix itself. I truly cant' wait to read them all!

Anyway, make sure to read and review, as well as leave prompts. If you do want to give me a prompt, please PM me, since I can't see any reviews. When it gets fixed, you guys can go back to commenting on the story itself.

-M

Chapter 14: Home

The day had finally come: Aramis was returning home.

He, Porthos, and d'Artagnan had gone onto the front to try and see what was happening with the Spanish. Two weeks had passed since the day he privately kissed her goodbye and promised her that he would be back soon.

But when Anne saw Porthos and d'Artagnan's faces as they came closer to the Palace, she knew something was wrong. It was then that she saw that Porthos was holding onto an unconscious, bloody Aramis atop his horse.

Anne gasped, running over to them just as they began to unload. She watched as Porthos got Aramis off the horse, closed her eyes when her lover screamed in agony.

"What happened?" she asked, truly afraid for the answer.

"The Spanish captured and tortured him," replied d'Artagnan, his voice emotionless. "He's alive, but barely. We need a medic. I am so sorry, Your Majesty.

The Queen's eyes fell on her Minister, who was wearing a light shirt to cover up the visible whip lashes on his back. His hair was long and unruly, slightly matted with blood. He had multiple scratches along his face, and even more on his body. Worst of all, his waist was bandaged, with blood seeping through.

With an unrecognizable voice, Anne said, "I will call the doctor. You know where our room is, just carry him there and do whatever you need to do. Do not worry about the blood."

After looking at poor Aramis one last time, she rushed over to a servant and told him to go get the doctor, begging him to hurry.

By the time she came to their room, Porthos and d'Artagnan had already taken Aramis' shirt off and had laid him down on the bed.

Aramis just groaned quietly, never opening his eyes.

And then the wait began.

Anne never left his side, holding onto his hand as he slept. She kept her eyes on his face, the tears falling down her cheeks as she found more and more injuries all over him. She felt Porthos' presence behind her. When she turned around, she saw how sad the bigger man was. He was clearly blaming himself.

"How did this happen?" she asked him, keeping her voice quiet and gentle.

Porthos sighed, pinching the bride of his nose. "We weren't able to save him in time," he began. "Aramis was determined to talk peace with the Spanish, but the Spanish didn't. They captured him, and we were too late. We weren't able to get him back for a week, and when we finally did, we had thought we were too late. Thankfully, we weren't. He held on. Even through all that he had suffered, he forced himself to keep going. I'm amazed how he did it."

Anne nodded slowly. "Thank you, Porthos," she said. "Thank you for bringing him home."

The soldier smiled weakly. "I am just so glad that he's alive," he replied.

"Me too."