Evening My Lovelies

Happy New Year Everyone! Hope this year brings you all good things :D

I'm really looking forward to hearing what you think about this chapter as I really enjoyed writing this one :)

Notes On Reviews:

pallysAramisRios: Thanks for the review - Well considering it's me I think it's safe to say they haven't gotten themselves into anything good :D We'll check in with Aramis in a later chapter. Enjoy the new chapter! x

beeblegirl: Thanks for the review - We'll be seeing what they want from Athos in today's chapter :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

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

Love you all!

Enjoy!

xxx

Chapter Two: The Cost

For a long moment, the man thought the swordsman before him was going to vehemently deny his offer, especially given all he had heard of the man, and regiment's, focus on honor and there was even a small part of him that was hoping he would, if only to see what it would take to eventually get the man to break and give in.

However he didn't have to wait too long as a few moment's later Porthos, who had long since passed out once more given his rapidly declining health let out a soft, barely audible but clearly pained groan, and that was all it took to break Athos's resolve and had the musketeer agreeing to his offer, all whilst fiercely trying to push down the sickening feeling growing in his gut whenever it tried to rear its ugly head.

At Athos's single nod the figure grinned widely, though the obvious malice in it did not escape the musketeer's notice, though he had little time to think of it when several other men entered his cell and held him in place whilst the figure stepped forward to remove his restraints. "This is going to be fun," he grinned almost manically as the two guards dragged the swordsman out of the cell, the sickening feeling in Athos's gut, growing with every step he begrudgingly took.

It didn't take the guards long to drag the musketeer into a nearby room where the only noticeable contents was the small table off towards the centre of the room containing a single whip and a figure hanging by his hands from the ceiling with a cloth bag over his head.

"What is the meaning of this?" snapped Athos as he turned to face the men who had brought him there, missing the way the chained figure moved at the sound of his voice.

"I thought I made myself clear musketeer," sighed the figure from before as he entered the room, the dark grin still plastered on his face. "If you want help for your friend you're going to have to earn it."

"Too lazy to do your own dirty work?" snarled Athos as he turned to watch the man approach the chained figure, this time not missing the way the figure flinched away from the man who dramatically patted the figure on the back.

"Why?" mocked the still anonymous figure as he stepped away and towards the swordsman. "When I can see you do it for me?"

A muffled sound came from under the chained figure's hood and the sound sent a wave of guilt, shame, and nausea through the senior musketeer as he spared the now struggling figure a glance before returning his focus to the man in front of him.

"Who is he?" demanded the musketeer as he fought the urge to rush to the aid of the restrained man, knowing, regrettably, that doing so would only put his brothers, one of whom was sick and the other missing at great risk.

"Does it matter?" shrugged the man, all whilst ignoring his prisoner's heavily muffled protest as he kept his gaze on Athos, "Without medical aid, your friend is likely going to die a long, drawn-out and potentially painful death," he explained with absolutely no sympathy or compassion in his voice, though he did note the way his prisoner stopped his protests at his words, though it quickly became apparent the musketeer in front of him was too fixated on the fate of his brother to notice this.

Deciding not to draw the matter out any longer the man strolled confidently over to the small table and picked up the whip before moving back to standing in front of the swordsman and holding out the handle for him to take. "For each lash, you deliver I'll allow your medic friend ten minutes with your sick companion."

Athos looked visibly sick at this, especially when the chained man began to sound even more desperate despite his heavily muffled state. However, the reminder of how dire Porthos's condition was, prompted the swordsman to reluctantly take the whip from their jailer, his hand trembling slightly as his calloused fingers curled around the whip's handle.

With a face that spoke to him being pleased beyond belief, the man took a step back before turning to head towards the door. "My men will be watching and will see you back when you're done…" He glanced over his shoulder to see the visibly pale Athos staring at the whip in his hands," Oh and musketeer?" he called, drawing the swordsman's attention back to him as he grinned devilishly, "They've also been instructed to enact one lash to Porthos for each pulled strike you deliver…" Athos, if at all possible, now looked a mixture of sick and furious, though the man paid it no mind as he added, "So I'd muster my resolve if I were you and think of just who you're doing this for… And why."