Evening My Lovelies

Okay, this took some doing but we're getting to see pretty much everyone tonight so hopefully, that'll make up for the slight delay.

I'm going, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure where the idea for the end portion of this chapter came from, it definitely wasn't what I had initially had in mind when I started writing but hey, I'm game to go with it :D

Also... 200 reviews! :D

Notes On Reviews:

pallysd'Artagnan: Thanks for the review - Oh Corbett's going to be out for blood, but he knows he has to be smart about things right now so he's going to have to settle for merely planning what he'll do to Rochey instead of actually doing it... for now at least :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

Jmp (Guest): Thanks for the review - Don't worry I don't plan on having him in his current position for much longer :) Enjoy the new chapter! x

beeblegirl: Thanks for the review - Oh I think she'll certainly be tempted to after tonight's chapter. I have a plan in mind to get Treville out so don't worry about that, I won't leave him in Rochey's clutches for much longer. Enjoy the new chapter! x

Debbie (Guest): Thanks for the review - Haha I thought you might like that, seemed like a small way to get back at him after all he's done but trust me, the regiment is going to be out for blood when they learn what's actually been going on. I'm loving Anne right now too :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

MicheeO: Thanks for the reviews - Yay you're back, hope you have a good binge :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

WelshEssex: Thanks for the review - You're the 200th reviewer whoop whoop! *throws confetti* Haha yeah there's been some drama in the last few chapters though I am glad to have you back, hope you had a nice catch-up :) Treville's got quite a few people on his side so no need to worry about him too much as he'll be free of Rochey's grasp fairly soon. Enjoy the new chapter! x

As always much love and many thanks for following/favouriting/reviewing/reading

Love you all!

Enjoy!

xxx

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Good And Bad News

It took everything Corbett had to force the furious, disgusted expression from his face as he neared the palace gardens, pausing briefly several feet before the doors to take a deep, steadying breath before emerging out into the sunlight, relief flooding his system when he didn't immediately spot Rochefort, though that relief quickly vanished when an all too familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"I see Treville's men are as good at following orders as he is."

That one simple sentence had Corbett clenching his fists tightly enough to turn the skin white as he fought the urge to knock the man behind him out. Instead, the musketeer forced his anger down, reminding himself that giving into it now would do nothing but harm his Captain, and likely his regiment, more.

"I wasn't aware your orders superseded Her Majesty's," commented Corbett with exaggerated innocence, smirking internally at the flash of irritation that crossed Rochefort's face at his words. "Now if you don't mind I have to get this to the Queen."

Thankfully Rochefort said nothing as the musketeer walked away, choosing instead to scowl at the man's back before storming off, back inside the palace, something that likely would have caused Corbett to panic if his attention wasn't focused on the Queen, who, for once, was resting alone in the shade.

"Apologies for the delay My Lady," bowed the musketeer as approached, paying particular attention to his words so as to not reveal what his true mission had been.

"No need," smiled Anne gently but even Corbett, who didn't interact with the young royal all that often, could tell it was forced. "Did you find it?"

"Indeed," nodded Corbett as he handed over the ornate fan, neither person reacting to the small slip of paper that could be seen poking out of one of the folds.

Anne's hands tightened around the fan as she discretely slipped it into her sleeve, her smile becoming more genuine as her son's wet nurse returned with the small bundle cooing gently in her arms.

"My thanks musketeer," she said dismissively, though there was a look in her eyes that promised to act on the information he had passed to her, "You should return to your men, they were likely worried by your absence."

Elsewhere, as night fell Athos was pulled from his thoughts as Porthos settled himself beside him, having returned from checking on the still sleeping Aramis, their host having all but forbidden the group from staying in the room with the younger man, stating he needed peace and quiet to recover, something he would not get if he could constantly feel their eyes on him.

"How is he?" asked Athos quietly as he passed Porthos the bottle of wine he had been drinking directly from, hoping to bury his guilt and shame in drink.

"Fever's going down," sighed Porthos, relief clear in his voice as he down a hearty amount of the wine, relishing in the knowledge that now, with proper treatment and supplies, his brother and best friend was recovering, if albeit slowly.

Mimicking Porthos's relieved sigh Athos felt some of his body's tension leave him at the news. Their host, who they had learned had once actually been a musketeer and had served alongside Treville before the man became Captain in a way similar to Aramis's own role, making him an out in the field medic, had not sugar coated anything when it had come to Aramis's chances, stating in no uncertain terms that unless the marksman showed signs of improvement in the next few days then he was unlikely to recover at all so to hear his brother was still fighting, even in his horrific condition brought a spark of hope back to the stoic musketeer.

"Corbett!" hissed Henri as he spotted the familiar face of his friend walking towards him. "Where have you been?"

Shaking his head Corbett said nothing as he, along with the rest of his regiment, lined up as the King walked past, a bright smile on the royal's face as he spotted his wife playing with their son.

"Not here," whispered Corbett cautiously once he was sure Louis was far enough away that his words were inaudible. "Spread the word to the men, we need talk when we're back at the garrison."

Henri looked very much like he wanted to press the matter further but he knew his friend enough to know that whatever was troubling him was indeed very serious and so he pushed aside his curiosity, nodding, discretely, once before leaning slightly to the man on his other side, whispering the order to him, dread growing in the stomachs of the entire regiment.

"This is the place right?" questioned D'Artagnan quietly as both he and Favier dismounted their mounts, uneasily glancing at the small house before them.

"Providing our information is accurate," nodded Favier, the older musketeer feeling the same unease as his companion, though he was trying his best to keep it from showing. "You ready?"

D'Artagnan said nothing in response, choosing to answer instead by striding, purposefully towards the door, ignoring the grumbled protests about his recklessness from his companion.

He was fully prepared to have to break down the door in order to storm the place and catch their target by surprise but it was he who was surprised when, with the gentlest of touches, the door swung open with a slight creak.

Sharing a look both musketeers knew that whatever awaited them inside was not going to be good so before entering they both silently drew their swords, gripping the pommels tightly as they began their search of the house.

"NO!" cried D'Artagnan in an almost frantic alarm as he rushed to the side of the very man they had ridden to find, his knee's giving out as it finally hit him that the one solid lead they had to save his brother from the hangman's noose was now hanging from his a noose all of his own.

Drawn by D'Artagnan's cry Favier raced into the room, his eyes widening as he took in the horrific sight in front of them for although the man they had come to find was indeed hanging from a ceiling beam there was also a very large amount of blood coating the man's mouth and chin that would have confused him had the musketeer not also spotted the small plate on a nearby table, upon which rested, much to Favier's disgust, a human tongue.

D'Artagnan had clearly missed this after finding their lead dead but Favier didn't have as much riding on this as the Gascon did so he allowed the practically distraught boy a moment to process his now shattered hope before walking over to the table, having spotted a piece of parchment resting ever so slightly under the bloodied tongue.

Infinitely glad that he was wearing gloves Favier grimaced as he reached to gently pull the bloodstained paper free, his actions pulling D'Artagnan's attention away from the long-deceased man, curiosity and a tiny, fragile, fragment of hope flashing across his face, though it faded to worry when they realised the letter was addressed, specifically for musketeers.

Sharing a look both men took a deep breath before Favier gently eased the letter open, the paper sticking to itself slightly courtesy of the blood staining it, though neither man was willing to pay that much mind as they instead focused on reading the letter's contents, both relieved the blood hadn't made the document unreadable.

Dear Musketeers,

Loose lips can get a man killed, even your friend Aramis knows this.

Sincerely,

A concerned friend.

D'Artagnan felt his blood boil as he read that familiar signature but then his mind caught up to what the letter said and he felt hope spark up within him once more as he turned to Favier, a bright smile growing on his lips. "Loose lips!"

It took Favier a moment to catch on but when he did a smile much like D'Artagnan's grew on his face as he finished the younger man's revelation. "He confided in someone."