Morning My Lovelies (I would say evening but its 4am here so technically morning)
Sorry this wasnt up earlier i was so exhausted after running up and down stairs all day at work that i fell asleep as soon as i got in. But not wanting you all to be without a chapter i decided to write this when i woke up
Notes On Reviews:
L J Groundwater: Thanks for the review - I fear that you may not like the end of this chapter if you're looking for some healing to be happening, i woke up in a mean mindset so i'm afraid some stuff hasnt happened to slow down the healing process for our boys. Enjoy the new chapter
Debbie (Guest): Thanks for the review - I loved writing the D'Art/Aramis chat so i'm super glad you liked it :D Theres some drama in today's chapter but it'll lead to some more brotherly moments so that'll be good :) Enjoy the new chapter
CaroH: Thanks for the review - Aramis is doing much better now after that chat, he just needed to hear it from the boy himself that he didnt blame him. Enjoy the new chapter
Tidia: Thanks for the review - the chat was definitely needed and Aramis is doing much better because of it. I seem to have taken a fancy to snuggling musketeers it seems to happen a lot in this story (the image of it is too cute i cant help it lol)
Lilac Lavender: Thanks for the review - Snuggly musketeers seem to be a new obsession of mine with this story lol. Milady's not quite done yet but her part in the story is coming to a close. Enjoy the new chapter :)
Apologies again for the late upload and thanks as aways to you lovely people who read/follow/favourite/review this story
Enjoy
xxx
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Journey Home II
"Half now, the rest when the job's complete" spoke a hooded figure, keeping their voice low so as to not be overheard whilst handing over a pouch of coins
A wicked grin appeared on the face of the man the hooded figured was meeting as he felt the weight of the coin purse in his hand, nodding his acceptance to their arrangement he slipped out of the crowded tavern into the dead of night.
The musketeer's left the tavern earlier in the morning, eager to make as much progress as they could before needing to stop to help relieve some of the travel induced injury pains.
Porthos was the first to realize that Aramis appeared lighter in spirit then he had been in the days following their rescue. To the large musketeer it appeared as though a heavy weight had been lifted off of his friend's shoulders. As he walked around to the front of the wagon he caught the eyes of D'Artagnan, who he noticed was watching Aramis attempt to persuade Athos that he was well enough to sit up front of the wagon with a soft smile. Porthos knew then that the boy and their medic must have spoken the night previously, the Gascon absolving their guilt-ridden brother of any and all blame the man had placed on himself for the boy's shooting and subsequent near-death experience. He smiled fondly at the young man, nodding his head in silent thanks to him for helping their brother return to himself, D'Artagnan looked momentarily surprised by the action but was quick to return both the smile and the nod before he turned his head back to where Aramis and Athos were still in debate, sending a mischievous smirk to Porthos he yelled with as much volume as his sore throat was able
"Aramis! If you don't move soon I'm stealing your wine!"
Athos and Porthos shared a smirk as Aramis attempted to rush to where their youngest lay in the wagon, waving the bottle of wine that the tavern owners wife had gifted to Aramis for free once he had given her what they referred to as 'the stare'
Shaking their heads at their brothers antics the two men got into position and pulled away from the inn, the sound of their brothers bickering over the wine following them as the pair settled down in the back of the wagon.
Thankfully for the two men the squabbling pair soon gave up their bickering and settled down, each of them drifting off when the pain of their injuries drained their energy, pulling them into sleep
That allowed Athos to keep a more constant, yet subtle, watch over his last remaining injured brother. He had seen how stiff his friend was when they finally reached the tavern yesterday and he was determined not to let it get so bad today.
It wasn't long before midday that the group reached Toulouse, having gotten most of the way there the day before. They stopped at the entrance of the town to wake their sleeping brothers, knowing D'Artagnan wouldn't want Dorian to worry anymore then he was going to by seeing him asleep in the wagon.
"You know this is a forge not an infirmary right?" jested a voice from the doorway of the building
"Hey 'Ri" smiled D'Artagnan, voice still slightly thick with sleep and pain.
Dorian returned the smile and stepped close to the wagon to ruffle the young man's hair in greeting, the rest of the group snickering as the boy protested the action.
"You're okay though right?" Dorian asked concerned, Treville had sent one of his men to his door a few days previously, informing him that his childhood friend, who he considered more a brother then anything else, had been injured badly and so would be late in returning for his visit.
Dorian of course had since spent the last few days in a mild panic for his young friend and so couldn't keep the worry out of his voice when he asked after his health.
D'Artagnan had known exactly how his old friend would react to the news of his injury and was grateful that Treville had thought to warn the man before they showed up on his doorstep. The last time they'd shown up unannounced with him injured the man had fretted over him with mother-hen tendencies that rivaled Aramis's. It had caused the young man no small amount of embarrassment that he had been subjected to that in front of the men he so greatly respected and so was immensely thankful he had been spared that this time thanks to Dorian having had time to process the fact that he had been injured.
"I'm fine 'Ri" he reassured, ignoring the amused snort his words garnered him from Aramis
"Why don't you get them settled inside" Dorian suggested, turning to Athos, "I'll finish putting all this away" he said gesturing to the array of tools lining one of the tables in his forge, "Join me for lunch before you continue your journey"
Athos was tempted to decline his generous offer, wanting nothing more to reach the safety of Paris – the group had yet to find trouble on the roads but with their luck it was only a matter of time and the fact that they hadn't found anything sooner was worrying him slightly as he knew that Treville had received reports of bandits roaming the area, the Captain had tried to insist on Athos taking at least another healthy musketeer with him but the man had steadily declined, knowing that if any of Pierre's men had escaped justice at the house that they could very well be planning either a rescue or an assassination attempt on the man before he reached Paris. However one look at the beaming grin on D'Artagnan's face had him accepting the offer. He knew the lad missed Dorian, even more so after the whole ordeal with Lucian and if their short stop would bring the boy some happiness then he was okay with the delay.
"It is serving you well I hope?" Dorian asked as the group sat down for lunch, gesturing to the pistol attached to the Spaniards belt
"It is a fine piece that has helped me get out of many situations since your gracious gifting of it to me" Aramis replied smiling brightly as his hand came to rest on the pistol. He had feared the gift lost forever after his capture by Pierre and his friends and was ecstatic when Porthos had returned it to him having found it in a room with the rest of his gear.
Dorian's smile at that information dropped when he noticed how little of his meal D'Artagnan had eaten. Athos noticed the blacksmiths concerned look and silently got up and grabbed one of the water skins filled with pain reliever, pouring some in a mug he passed it to his protégé, his eyes almost daring the stubborn boy to refuse to drink it. It was a testament to how much pain their young brother had been in that the boy took it without complaint and downed the mug's contents in a single gulp, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste.
The rest of their brief stay went by fairly quickly until they noticed that D'Artagnan was having trouble keeping his eyes open both because of his taxing injuries as well as the draught he drank slightly earlier.
Upon noticing this Dorian left to get what Athos had come for whilst the musketeer helped get his protégé back in the wagon only to then stand beside the man with an amused smile as he watched Porthos attempt to help Aramis only to have his hands swatted away and mock glares received at his persistence.
The group then said their goodbyes to the young blacksmith, the three senior musketeers choosing to ignore the slight misty-eyed look D'Artagnan developed as Dorian leaned down to whisper something to the boy's ears.
Nodding his thanks once again to Dorian, Athos led his brothers out of the city and back on the road to Paris.
"Athos" Called Porthos quietly so as to not alert their brothers
Athos turned as he heard his name called and slowed his horse to allow the wagon to catch up.
"Somethin' don't feel right" Porthos murmured, glancing around subtly as if expecting attack at any minute.
Athos nodded, having noticed something was off for the last hour of their journey, "I'll keep watch, wake them up" he ordered before riding a few feet from the wagon, not liking that they were surrounded by forests on both sides of the path meaning that anyone could be hiding there and they would likely not notice their exact location until they attacked.
"…W'at?" slurred Aramis as Porthos shaking his shoulders gently waked him, "Trouble?" he questioned, instantly seeing the concerned look in his brother's eyes. Upon receiving a nod in reply the medic set to work quickly checking his weapons were primed and within easy reach before shifting himself into a sitting position, gritting his teeth as the movement jarred his broken ribs.
Porthos then repeated the action with D'Artagnan, instantly regretting it when the boy whimpered quietly in pain as his shoulder flared with pain from his damaged muscle.
As D'Artagnan had been lying on his good arm so as to relieve pressure on his damaged on he was in no way able to help should a fight ensue so, despite whispered protests from both Porthos and Aramis, the latter of which tried to force him back but was unable to given his good hand could only reach the boy's injured side, he shifted into a sitting position, chest heaving with exertion and a slight gleam of sweat on his forehead at the movement caused him no small amount of pain and took a large amount of effort.
"Stubborn Gascon" Aramis muttered with a slight fondness in his voice as he passed the boy his blade and already primed pistol, the look in his eye ordering the boy to leave the fight to the others unless absolutely necessary.
While this had been going on both Athos and the wagon had been moving forward as normal so as to not alert their trackers that they were on to them.
Even as alert as they were the small group of mostly injured musketeers were still taken by surprise by the amount of men in the ambush party and it quickly became apparent that Aramis's order of staying out of the fight would have to be ignored as the musketeer's were outnumbered three to one.
Normally this wouldn't have been an issue but given the fact that D'Artagnan's and Aramis's injuries would limit their fighting ability immensely and Porthos's injuries would have him tiring sooner and moving slower, Athos felt the pressure on his shoulders to protect his brothers.
Aramis had wasted no time in attacking the second he spotted their attackers. As soon as one of the men came in range the sharpshooters musket was up and firing – felling the man before he could get remotely close to the wagon.
Athos moved the same time as Aramis fired, charging his horse into the throng of approaching men, hoping to hamper as many as he could, keeping their attention focused on him and away from his wounded brothers.
Porthos was reluctant to leave the wagon, choosing to stand guard over his brothers although he sound found himself being attacked by two men.
D'Artagnan was having a difficult time focusing on the fight – waking up to Porthos shaking him, no matter how gently, plus forcing his aching body into a sitting position had ignited an inferno of pain within his body and he was struggling to push it to the side and focus on his brothers and the fight.
He managed to regain control over himself just in time to fire his pistol at one of the men who decided to try and get Athos from behind while the musketeer's focus was on the two men in front of him.
Athos had just about had enough with the men he was fighting; they lacked his skill with a blade but were wirily and were able to dodge most of his attacks with surprising, if not annoying, ease. The pair of attackers had also decided to attack at the same time meaning Athos had to work twice as hard to both dodge and attack.
Luckily the men were so focused on their attack on the musketeer they paid little attention to their surrounds and lacked the synchronicity that comes from training together and so they ended up hinder each others attacks on a few occasions which helped Athos gain the upper hand once again and he had just finished defeating the two of them when a shot pierced the air followed quickly by a thump behind him.
Turning sharply Athos saw the deceased body of the man who had been sneaking up on him, following the shot's trajectory Athos was surprised to see the smoking gun held in the hands of a slightly green and increasingly pained looking D'Artagnan. Nodding his thanks to his protégé and pushing all worries he held for the young man out of his mind Athos moved to intercept the group of men approaching the wagon.
Porthos noticed Athos's movement out of the corner of his eye and upon realizing that their attackers had realized the wagon held injured men and so had driven their focus to that he growled menacingly at the two men he had been fighting, willing his body to remain strong as he fought to protect his brothers.
He was surprised however; when he noticed that his attackers seemed to be favouring the areas where he was injured worse to focus their attacks as if they knew his defense would be weaker in those areas. Storing that information away for a more opportune moment he focused his attention on the fight and on ignoring the men's attempts to get him to move away from the wagon.
Again his attackers lacked the training and skill with a blade that one would get from military service so even despite his injuries Porthos was able to eventually take them down. Unfortunately not before they landed some shots of their own, the wounds weren't deep but the stinging pain hindered his movement speed as he tried to get to where Athos stood, determinedly guarding the wagon.
Aramis had been aiding his brothers as best he could, shooting anybody he could who came within the range of his firearms but despite his extensive practice of reloading using only one hand, something that earned him some teasing from Porthos when he had decided to learn it – the larger man calling him an obsessive perfectionist, the task of reloading was a slow one when only using his good hand.
This allowed the occasional man through to reach the wagon and as the marksman's focus was on reloading D'Artagnan had stubbornly made it his mission to protect the sharpshooter as he worked, carrying his sword in his unbound hand, swinging it without his usual strength or finesse in a desperate and valiant attempt to buy the medic time.
Aramis worked as fast as he could but even out of the corner of his eye he could see their young Gascon was fading fast and would not be able to continue much longer before the pain became too much and his body betrayed him, he had also seen the occasional attacker aim attacks to the boy's bound arm, causing him to have to shift suddenly to protect it from further harm – unfortunately this only jarred his injuries further, speeding up the fading process.
He didn't think he'd even been as relieved to see Athos as he was when the man appeared, grabbing the man fighting D'Artagnan, pulling him away before ending his life. A single glance at the man told him that Athos had seen the condition of their youngest as well if the fire burning in the swordsman's eyes was anything to go by.
By the point Porthos joined them there were only three men remaining and having run out of ammunition Aramis had directed his attention to watching D'Artagnan as the boy had paled significantly in the past few minutes and the lines of pain were growing deeper on his face. The medic in him wished for nothing more than to tend to the boy but the solider recognized that even with the few remaining numbers of opponents, there was still a threat and as long as the boy was still able to defend himself, no matter how weakly. So he resigned himself to push aside the need to get him to rest until it was safer to do so.
Porthos and Athos had shared a look of agreement that they needed to end the fight quickly and so the pair disregarded the finesse they usually fought with to focus instead on brute strength to overpower and eventually end the last of their attackers.
No sooner had the last of their ambushers fell that the pair heard a sharp curse in Spanish followed by the call of their little brother's name.