Evening My Lovelies

Sorry about no update yesterday, completely forgot all about it, hopefully, this'll make up for it :)

Also I think I've messed with the canonical timeline a little as you'll see at the end of this chapter but just go with it :D

Notes On Reviews:

Guest: Thanks for the review - Well the mystery is going to deepen even more now :) Enjoy the new chapter! x

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Chapter Six: Unexpected Meeting

Now that he wasn't dazed from a blow to the head Aramis was able to focus on his surroundings as he was pulled down several corridors, the marksman trying his best to log the route and any points of interest in his mind, knowing they'd likely come in use later when they staged their breakout. He was also trying to keep an eye out for any other prisoners but he was having a lot less luck with that endeavour.

The walk seemed to go on for an age and it took everything in him not to try to attack the men escorting him, either physically or verbally but eventually the small group stopped by a door, the guards ignoring the small look of confusion on the marksman's face as he was almost positive this wasn't the same room he had been kept in before being allowed out to help Porthos.

Without addressing him further the guard mainly involved with dragging him about the place nodded to those guarding the door and the moment the door was open he pushed the restrained musketeer through it, the other guards closing the door as soon as he was through.

Back in the other cells Athos was left alone with his darkening thoughts when a soft groan from the cell next to his caught his attention and had him scrabbling to the bars that separated the two cells.

"Porthos?" he called quietly his eyes firmly locked onto his brothers' face as he watched the man fight the pull of unconsciousness as his eyelids slowly started to flutter open as another soft groan left his mouth.

"Porthos," he tried again, a small relieved sigh leaving his own lips as Porthos's eyes finally opened and locked onto his own.

"'Thos?"

"Aye brother," grinned the swordsman as he reached through the cell to gently pat his brother's hand, "How are you feeling?"

It took a moment for the larger musketeer to respond as he had to push through the fog clouding his mind to come up with an appropriate answer to his brother's question, "Like death," he groaned as he slowly tried to push himself up into a seated position, much to the chagrin of his brother.

"Well don't let Aramis hear you say that, he'll be most disappointed that all of his work wasn't appreciated."

This one sentence perked the larger musketeer up more than anything else as his head shot around to look around the cell, "'Mis was here?"

Unable to stop the small chuckle that bubbled up at his brother's reaction Athos nodded once, "You just missed him, he's going to be most disappointed that you woke up only after he left."

Porthos hummed a weak sound of acknowledgment and Athos was almost sure his friend had drifted off again when the man finally spoke up. "He was okay? They haven't hurt him have they?" the dark tone of Porthos's voice promised pain if the answer to his question was an affirmative.

Not one to lie to his brother Athos offered a single nod, "He's a bit beaten up but nothing serious, he was more worried about you than anything else."

For the next several minutes silence fell over the musketeer cells as both men became lost in their own thoughts of freedom and revenge but before long Athos knew he was going to have to reveal his suspicions to Porthos as well so he let of a long sigh that caught the larger man's attention.

"'Thos?"

Seeing the concern in his brother's eyes Athos felt another wave of guilt and shame for even thinking what he was but he knew he had to reveal it so, with great reluctance, he began to explain his suspicions.

"Well," mused Aramis aloud as he took in the plush room he had found himself thrust into. "This is new…"

"I do have a weakness for the finer things in life, I admit," teased a feminine voice, accompanied by the sound of clicking heels as the source of the voice stepped into the room, her presence putting the marksman on edge immediately as he fought the urge to attack the figure in front of him, logic telling him it would not end well for him, though it did little to stop the growl that left his throat as he practically spat out her name.

"Milady DeWinter."