A/N:

TW: Graphic depictions of violence; torture

The title's inspired by song Rescue by Lauren Daigle

You are not hopeless

Though you have been broken

Your innocence stolen

You're not defenseless

I'll be your shelter

I'll be your armor


It's been several weeks since he saw his wife for the first time after the war. Athos cannot explain his behavior towards her that day and cannot not to miss her. He hates how Anne drives him crazy but can't live without her.

He and his man came in time to save Sylvie from the whip, she was sentenced to, no harm caused. Grimaud was killed, Tréville on his post as Minister. Porthos enjoying fatherhood, d'Artagnan anticipating it as Constance's expecting. And Aramis' finally got the chance to participate in his son's life and not to watch it a far.

The only thing leaving Athos restless is Sylvie's idea of egalitarian life for all. Sometimes that woman can get harsh about the issue, proposing to sentence nobility to be punished as for the real crimes.

They've talked about it for thousands of times, and she seemingly agreed to drop the thought. Well, that is an agreement for now.

Little did he know that Sylvie has assembled some people from her old acquaintances and were gathering information forces.

Rumours of ambushes on Parisian elite has started couple of days ago, and musketeers were sent to explore. Inseparables separated and skittered around the city, patrolling alleys.

Porthos' on the guard of the Les Halles marketplace, when he hears commotion. Running towards the noise, he doesn't believe his eyes.

Several men have thrown themselves on the woman, who strangely reminded him of Milady de Winter, who struggles to fight of four assaults two times bigger than her. A few feet away stands Sylvie herself, commanding men.

He rushes to them, trying to beat Anne of their hands, but the injury he got a day ago doesn't let him fight on equal grounds with them. Noticing an escaping figure, Porthos runs to Sylvie, yanking her to him.

"What are you doing?" He almost yells at her face.

"I am cleansing our city from those, who claim to be the majors. They feed on our misery. Don't you want to punish them?" Sylvie says matter-of-factly.

"First, you betray Athos' trust. Second, you are committing crime, ambushing nobility like that and starting a riot. And third, that woman is Athos' wife, and if you think he stand aside, you are mistaken!" Porthos tries to reason with her, but the woman draws her own sword.

"One more step and I won't hesitate to use it against you, Porthos. If we talk about betrayal, then you betray people that brought you up!" She spits at his feet. "And I don't care if she's the queen of England herself, she will be whipped as others!"

With that she leaves him breathing raggedly. Porthos collects himself and runs to garrison. He must tell Athos, they must stop Sylvie and save the people, she kidnapped.

XXX

Athos' sitting at his desk in the garrison, reading Tréville's letter, when Porthos rushes in the office, catching a breath. The swordsman instantly stands up from his seat.

"Athos, quickly! Sylvie has taken nobility to the square, she's gonna have them whipped" The color drains from Athos' face at the pang of betrayal he feels. But at the next words his blood runs cold. "And Anne, Milady's among them."

Hearing those words, he stumbles from the desk and picks up his sword, rushing through the door. He needs to get to the square as soon as possible. He needs to save Anne. And then he'll deal with Sylvie. He'll make her pay for her lies, for kidnapping his wife.

The place is buzzing with people gathering in anticipation of public whipping. Sylvie's men prepared condemned people, tying them up to a pole. Now they stand behind their bear backs, ready to land painful strikes.

And to Athos' horror, Sylvie is the one standing behind Anne.

"Stop!" He can hear himself roar, but to no avail. The woman he thought he could trust strokes a whip across Anne's back. Blood starting trickling down, her delicate skin sliced up.

His blood freezes as he watches his wife's head tilt upwards in pain. As he makes way towards the scaffold, Sylvie commands to whip seven more times, he counts.

She talks of wealth being corruption and nobility being poison to the future of France. How they should cleanse first the streets of Paris, then the whole country from the people, who count themselves superiors.

As he climbs on the arena, from where executors stand, he can see Anne's back turning to only red and sliced up to raw meat. Her shriek piercing his ears. She's barely holding up, but still mustering all her stubbornness and strength.

Athos tried to stop Sylvie as she brings her hand up for another lash, which resulted into the whip turning around his own arm, burning him with searing pain.

He yanks the whip from the woman's hand and pushes her off the scaffold, other executors rushing to her aid. He successfully dodged attacks with his own sword in time other musketeers appear on the stage, letting him go to tend to his wife.

He can hear clatter of swords behind his back, cries of the bound people on his sides, grievance of Sylvie as she is being arrested by a musketeer. But his eyes are only to Anne's limp body, which holds up only by the bound on her delicate wrists.

The swordsman gets up on a stage near Sylvie and demands her to let the people go. He didn't know she still was punishing nobles. He thought she left it behind once she joined garrison. But Sylvie's gang crosses swords with him, he successfully counters. Lastly pushing Sylvie of the stage and running to Anne, as Porthos wand inseparables who came to the commotion unbound other people.

Athos horrified seeing Anne hanging on the pole as though she is a rag doll, her back is a mess of blood and meat. Freeing her wrists, he checks for her pulse, feeling a faint heartbeat. As carefully as he can, Athos pick her light form even though he doesn't know how to carry her to garrison to not cause her even more pain.

When they are at the garrison with Sylvie in tow to be thrown into the cell, Athos asks Aramis to help him with Anne's treatment, putting her down onto his bed, damning the blood that stains it. He leaves his wife in capable hands of his brother and goes downstairs, rage coming out from every inch of his body. He doesn't even consider it, as his hands wrap around her neck. Tighter than they ever wrapped around Anne's.

He barely contains himself from hitting her, instead whispering in tight voice what he's going to do to her for what she did. She didn't just break her promises to leave her ways of avenging peasants behind, she tortured his wife, knowing well who she was.

XXX

When Athos returns to his room, Anne's still unconscious, Aramis' busy treating her wounds. He joins Aramis, helping him sewing up the longer gashes. Then as marksman cleans up all the stuff, the used, Athos gingerly puts on Anne's back an ointment and dresses up the wounds.

They work in quietness with only Anne's unintelligible whimpers to accompany. But soon enough musketeers her crying breaks the silence. First, they cannot make anything from it, but then the name Régine is clearly heard.

Looking at Aramis puzzled, Athos decides to shake her a little. Still in a haze Anne cries out in pain and tries to turn on to her back, only to be stopped by somebody's gentle hands.

She freaks out at the unfamiliar feelings but sensing the smell that only belong to her husband she relaxes.

"I want my Reg..." She states, barely opening her green eyes.

"Anne, I don't understand. Who's Régine, my love?" Ready to retrieve anything she asks for only to make her pain go away Athos asks. His hand finding hers to squeeze lightly. But he is no way prepared for what comes next.

"Our daughter, Régine, she's at house at Sent-Germain. I promised her to be home by evening. To teach shooting. I should go..." She tries to turn once again and cries in pain. Aramis, recovering from a shock faster than his friend, makes her lay down with a gentle push to her shoulders, making sure the pillows under her are soft.

Athos is stricken by the news but asks no question. He knows that he should be angry at her for not telling about their daughter earlier. But cannot muster the anger at his wounded wife.

"Anne, Aramis and Porthos would go and bring her here. Don't worry about that, just say where to find her." He swallows down his nervousness and bewilderment. But she shakes her head violently, panicking at his proposal.

"No, no, no, she shouldn't see me like this. No, please. Just give her my locket, she knows what to do if something happens to m..." Her voice is barely above the whisper, resigned to pain, her armor fallen.

But Athos interrupts her as soon as he realizes her line of thought.

"Nonsense, Anne, you'll be alright. You'll heal..." She doesn't let him finish.

"I am ugly, right? I'll be scarred forever." She cries, her body trembling. "How is my child going to see me like this?"

Athos shakes his head at her words.

"You are not ugly, Anne! You are strong. Yes, it will scar, but it won't be shameful, it will only show your strength and temper.» He tries to soothe her as much as he can.

Soon she's back to sleep and Athos by her side. He asks Aramis to find Régine and stays with Anne, slowly caressing her hair.

XXX

At Sant-Germain Porthos and Aramis find the house and knock. Door is opened by maid in her early forties. As they present themselves as the King's musketeers they are let inside of quite luxurious apartments.

At the commotion, young girl descends the stairs, her gaze lands on the musketeers. Her breath catches in her throat at their sight, knowing well who they are and what they arriving means. She musters all her strength and greets them, while crumbling down from the inside at the thought of her lovely mama's demise.

"Hello, monsieur Aramis, monsieur Porthos! Due to what do I owe you the pleasure?" The girl doesn't let her voice shake.

Musketeers are confused at the sight of a girl more than at ten years of age. They were expecting her to be a child of four at most, thinking she was born after the events with Spanish spymaster Rochefort.

Porthos is first to snap out.

"Régine de Winter?" He asks gingerly.

"De La Fere, actually! I bear my father's family name!" She demands at what musketeers smirk. She is a mix of Athos and Milady. They shouldn't be surprised by her bravery and way with words.

"Well, Régine, I am sorry for intruding," Porthos starts, approaching her and kneeling in front of the girl. At that her heart sinks. They are going to console her. Her mom is truly dead. "But we are here to collect you and bring you to the garrison I get you know who we are!"

"How did my mama die?" Her voice falters and her eyes are full of unshed tears. But she stoically raises her head.

"What?" Aramis questions bewildered, then rushes to her, hugging, as they watch her break down. He strokes her back and hair. "No, no, no, Régine! She's not dead! Listen to me! She's alive, darling!"

Tilting her head up, her cheeks are bathed in tears.

"Truly? Mommy's alright?" Their hearts breaking at the sight of her hurt. But hope glistens in her grey-blue eyes. Color all too familiar from the child's father.

"Yes, kid, she is alive!" Says Porthos, wiping away tear streaks. She's still a child, even though she holds herself pretty good. "But somebody has hurt her! Aramis here patched her up, and now she's with you papa, resting."

"She was so worried for you, little girl! So, we promised her to fetch you. Do you believe us? Will you go with us?" Asks Aramis in a clam voice. For some reason that girl has wrapped them tight around her little finger in mere minutes.

"Yes, yes, I will! I want to, need to see her! Let me gather few things and we can be on our way." They nod and she takes off towards staircase.

"She's..." Starts Aramis.

"Incredible? Total mix of her parents? Our favorite niece?" Porthos inquires. "Yes, she is."

"Athos doesn't know what awaits him. She'll wrap him around her finger. And I think she just did that to us." At that Porthos hums.

They watch her run down the stairs and stand by the door, waiting for them.

XXX

For last several hour Athos have been beside his wife. Not long ago she's developed a fever and since then he's busy changing wet clothes on Anne's forehead for cooler ones and wiping her face, neck and arms.

Every time he glances at the scar, he gifted her with, he can't help but think, that once again she's gotten hurt because of her.

Yet another betrayal on his side. Athos still wakes up screaming her name after he almost choked when she just mentioned Sylvie's name. He went for her throat only to defend a woman, who would lie to him and then single-handedly whip his wife.

He has Sylvie to deal with, but for now that would wait. He cannot live Anne's side only to get revenge on her.

If he has missed d'Artagnan's wedding, if he has ridden faster, if he has hesitated less, they would've sailed to England and lived happily for years. He would've been with her and their child.

The child. He has a child. A girl. He has missed her entire life because of his righteousness. He doesn't even know how old she is. Has he hanged his wife when she was pregnant or was the child conceived in the whole Rochefort fiasco aftermath?

Athos looks down at his sleeping wife. Her features are pained but still beautiful. He doesn't know how she looks, but somehow, he feels, little Régine is the perfect image of his wife.

As swordsman continues to think about their child, little hand appears on his shoulder. Startled, he's ready to defend Anne against anybody who dared to disturb her rest.

The shock he feels looking at the miniature version of his wife with only his grayish eyes looking up at him. His daughter is a growing young lady, and he is a monster indeed for hanging his pregnant wife.

"Hi, papa!" She's first to break silence. Her voice hushed and harsh because of cries, she's been subsiding for the whole journey to the garrison. Aramis and Porthos tried they best to lighten her mood, but she couldn't help herself. "That's not how I imagined we meet. But alas..."

She trailed off, eyes landing on her mama's pale face. Athos carefully draws Régine's little body to him, fearful she'll push him away. Instead, little girl melts into his embrace.

"Régine, I promise you, mama's alive. She's hurt and needs time to recover." Talking after several hours of silence is alien. But he feels the need to calm his daughter.

"I know, she will be, papa! She's strong." Papa. Second time she calls him that, and he feels floored at the word, at the tenderness she says it with. Then her voice takes a dangerous notes of anger determination he's heard her wife talking with when she's set on revenge. "But I want to know, who had done that to her! Who had touched my mom in such a ruthless way, who had ambushed her?"

Athos' taken aback at the fury of a nine-year-old.

"Why do you think she was ambushed?" He cannot help but ask.

"Papa, she's Milady de Winter. Ruthless assassin, always aware of her surroundings. There's no way one person could've taken her." Athos can hear admiration in her words.

"I am an awful mother, if my immature daughter is proud of my ruthlessness and the fact that I am a murderess." Weak voice draws their attention.

Seeing Anne awake, father and daughter simultaneously rush to her side. Régine clutches her hand, bringing it to her lips.

"Mama, you're awake!" Anne smiles at her little girl, her other hand caressing Régine's hair.

"Of course, my life! I am fine! I promise, I'll be up in no time, and I'll teach you shooting, as I promised. Sorry, today I am not up to it." They both chuckle, their forehead resting against each other.

"I don't care, mama, you get well and everything else can wait!" Régine can't help the tears that keep trailing down her cheeks. "Besides, we are at musketeers' garrison, I bet Aramis could teach me shooting."

"The only thing that man is good at is pouting and getting in troubles!" Anne jokes, looking at her husband. His eyes crinkling in a way she hasn't seen since before Régine was born.

Anne can't believe they are together now. Even given the circumstances. The way how carefully Athos holds Régine by shoulders, giving her support, being her rock warms her heart

She reaches out to touch him and he meets her hand halfway, engulfing her tiny palm into his.

"How are you, Anne? You need to rest before your fever breaks." He says concerned. Anne nods at his words.

"I am thirsty." At her words Régine deftly goes to the nearby table and fills a glass of water. Bringing it back, she helps her mama drink it slowly. "Thank you, baby! Can you, please, go to Aramis and others? I need to talk to your papa."

Régine nods understandingly and hugs her quickly, making her way out.

"Good luck! Both of you!" Knowing some pieces of her parents' story, Régine genuinely thinks they'll need all the luck to work out their differences.

Both parents chuckle at her and wait till the door is closed before they begin to talk simultaneously. Athos nods her to go first.

"Athos, you have every right to be angry at me for hiding her..." Seeing how he wants to interrupt, he shakes her head. "No, let me finish. I am sorry I didn't tell about Régine earlier. I am sorry for what I did to you and you friends..."

Before she finishes, he shuts her up slanting his lips over hers. Because her speech sounds awfully like a farewell.

"Anne, you are not going to die. You'll be alright as soon as you get rest. So, I will not accept such speeches." He says as they drove away to get some air. "It's me, who should apologize for everything, for killing you, for the way I treated you, for leaving you, for choking you. And to our daughter for the years of her life I missed."

It's Anne's turn to bathe in tears. Athos kisses them away and probes her forehead for the temperature.

"You know, I dislike being doted over?" She inquires in drowsy voice, eyelids sliding close.

"Sorry." He laughs under his breath. "It seems your fever broke, but you still should get some sleep. Then I'll bring you some soup."

"I don't think I'll be able to keep it down, I am too shaken up." Her voice comes out slurred.

"It's Constance's chicken broth. Believe me, even dead ones will keep it down." They laugh at the dark joke, finally able to let all the pain between them go away.

"Fine, but first I want to sleep." He nods at that and kisses her lightly on the forehead.

"And I need to make Sylvie pay for what she's done to you! I'll never let you go, Anne. Not you and not our daughter. Nothing will ever come between us! Not anymore! I'll be your armor from now on." She would later wonder if she dreamt about those words, or they were actually said.

For now, Athos lays there with her, Régine joins them short time after, climbing into his lap, leaning into her papa's embrace and drifting off as well.


A/N: I may or may not have accidentally written a fanfic

I just started typing in my notes another idea of mine the other morning. And after several paragraphs I decided to write it more detailed. Then I started writing out dialogs. And then went to first paragraphs and edited them adding more narrations.

That's how I wrote a ten pages work