Cloaks and fire don't mix – part 1
AN: I'm finally back with the fifth part of this series. I meant to edit and upload this story about two months ago but *gestures around* life kind of got in the way. This is the longest story in the series, so I've split it into two parts (I can only apologise for the cliffhanger that you all know is coming).
Basically everybody gets hurt in this story, no-one is safe (but I promise there are some soft, comforting moments at the end to make up for it). If you enjoy it, please leave a review!
There are content warnings for fires, confinement and burns in this story.
TMTMTM
The sun had just set and the torches were being lit in the Garrison when the first shout went up outside.
Porthos, Aramis, and d'Artagnan were playing cards, the deep blue sky darkening to black overhead, when their peace was interrupted.
Athos descended the stairs as voices rose to a crescendo beyond the gates.
"What's going on?" He asked.
"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good," d'Artagnan replied.
At that moment Constance came running through the gates looking fearful.
"Constance," d'Artagnan said, a note of surprise in his voice. They weren't expecting to see her.
"Monsieur du Pont's manor is on fire and it's spread to the bakery next door. Can you help?"
She had barely finished her sentence before all four men were on their feet. Athos called other Musketeers over to assist them and the group followed Constance through several darkening streets until they came upon the blaze.
As they turned the corner, Porthos and Aramis had to shield their eyes from the brightness of the flames.
D'Artagnan flinched back slightly; he still remembered dragging Athos out of the fire that had blazed through the de la Fere mansion after Milady set it alight.
This fire was not as fast but seemed hotter and brighter because the two buildings were mainly wood.
"We need more water to put it out before it spreads further." Constance said, looking worried.
"Is there anyone still inside?" Aramis asked urgently.
"I- I don't know." Constance's voice wobbled slightly. "I don't know if anyone has checked, but the baker and his family live upstairs and no-one has seen Monsieur du Pont since the fire started."
Athos took charge. "Eduard, Thomas, Stephane, go and help these people bring more water to put out the fire. Porthos, you and d'Artagnan go and look for du Pont and his family. Make sure all the servants got out too. Aramis and I will search the bakery for the baker and his family."
The Musketeers nodded and then split off. Porthos and d'Artagnan dunked their cloaks in a nearby bucket full of water, then wrapped them around their heads and shoulders before heading into the manor.
Aramis and Athos dashed round the side of the bakery, looking for an entrance that wasn't engulfed in flames.
There was a window at the back that the fire hadn't reached yet, so Aramis wrapped his cloak around his arm and smashed one of the glass frames.
He reached inside to open it and then climbed in, immediately coughing and ducking low to avoid the smoke as he moved through the building.
Athos climbed in after him and looked around. The interior was hot and dark and he could hear a child crying somewhere, but he didn't know if it was coming from inside the house or elsewhere.
"The shop front is almost entirely engulfed," Aramis said, coming back and shutting the door behind him quickly in an attempt to keep the flames out. "We need to check upstairs."
"This way," Athos said, leading Aramis through a door into a short corridor that connected to a stairwell.
Both men ran up the stairs, stopping at the top of the landing.
"If they're in here, why haven't they come down yet?" Aramis asked, coughing into his arm.
Athos took his glove off and felt the back of the door on their left.
"It's hot." He said simply.
At Athos's instruction, Aramis stepped back. Athos put his glove on again and pulled the door open, stepping back swiftly as he did so.
A burst of fire leapt out to meet them and both Musketeers stumbled back further.
Once the oxygen-fuelled flames had died down, Aramis and Athos could see into the room better.
The baker, his wife, and their two young children were huddled in one corner of the room. The woman was coughing and one of the children was screaming, tears running down his face.
The rest of the room was ablaze, and the only exit through the door in front of Athos and Aramis was blocked by a line of fire.
"That will be why they haven't come down." Athos said.
TMTMTM
As Porthos and d'Artagnan rushed into the manor, Porthos realised this was going to be an insurmountable task.
The house was huge and there were too many rooms for them to check together.
"We'll have to split up." He shouted to d'Artagnan over the rush of fire.
The younger Musketeer coughed through his wet cloak and nodded.
"You take the downstairs, I'll take the upstairs." D'Artagnan shouted back.
Porthos nodded and the two split up.
Running up the stairs, d'Artagnan shouted for Monsieur du Pont, looking into each room as swiftly and thoroughly as he could.
Some rooms were almost entirely engulfed in flames, but he ducked in, scanning them for signs of life. Or a body. The pessimistic side of his mind added.
Running into a bedroom, d'Artagnan found one of the servants passed out on the floor.
He shook the man and called his name, but when he didn't respond, he lifted him over his shoulder and carried him from the room.
Going down the stairs was tricky. Plaster from the ceiling fell right next to him and almost made him overbalance, but he managed to get the man outside, panting from the heat as he dropped to his knees and gently laid him on the floor.
Porthos appeared next to him carrying a maidservant, who he set down gently on the ground. She was coughing hard, but Constance appeared and handed her water, placing a wet cloth over her shoulders.
"See if you can wake him up." D'Artagnan said to Constance, gesturing to the man he had carried out. "We're going back in."
"D'Artagnan." Constance said urgently, grabbing his arm. "Be careful."
He smiled grimly at her and nodded. Then he turned and dashed back into the burning manor after Porthos.
Constance watched him go, praying that this wouldn't be the last time she saw him alive.
Back inside the house, d'Artagnan headed up the stairs again.
"Can anyone hear me?" He called out, trying not to inhale the thickening smoke.
He heard a muffled cry from one of the rooms and ran inside.
A woman was cowering in the corner looking terror-stricken. Her exit was blocked by fire, which was roaring across the furniture, curtains, and floorboards.
Even as d'Artagnan stepped forward, the wall to his left crumbled under the heat of the fire, dropping wallpaper and chunks of plaster onto the floor.
The maid screamed in fright.
"It's alright, stay there. I'm coming to you." D'Artagnan shouted over the noise.
He darted around the four poster bed and leapt over several lines of fire that were eating through the floor.
Part of the bed frame collapsed and d'Artagnan dived out of the way, rolling to his knees and running the rest of the way to the maid.
"I've got you, it's OK." He tried to calm her as he lifted her to her feet. "Put this around your head and shoulders," the Gascon said, passing her his quickly-drying cloak. "Can you walk?"
"I…", the maid seemed too shocked to finish her sentence, staring at the fire as it spread through the room.
D'Artagnan couldn't wait any longer for an answer. "I'm going to carry you, alright?"
She nodded shakily and he scooped her up, running back across the room.
Leaping through the fire and feeling the heat surge against his legs, d'Artagnan made it back to the landing.
As he edged round a hole in the floor, there was a cracking noise from above. The youngest Musketeer looked up as a blackened piece of ceiling broke off and fell towards him.
He only had time to throw the maid towards the staircase before the plaster landed on him and knocked him to the floor.
The maid managed to pick herself up and looked back at d'Artagnan, eyes wide.
"Go!" D'Artagnan called, trying to rise, "I'm right behind you."
The woman nodded and managed to stumble down the stairs. D'Artagnan tried to stand and made it to his knees before his vision wavered and he crashed back to the floor, unconscious.
TMTMTM
"Du Pont!" Porthos yelled, running through the large dining room. The long oval dining table in the centre of the room was the only thing unscathed.
Cabinets and sideboards up against the walls were burning gracelessly and the large hanging portraits were gone but for their gilded frames.
"DU PONT." Porthos shouted again, coughing against the smoke.
It wouldn't be long before the building was engulfed and he didn't even know if the man was still in here. But Porthos had already decided he wasn't leaving until he'd checked every room.
A noise rose up above the raging flames and Porthos stopped running, listening carefully.
It sounded like a dog barking.
Leaving the dining room, Porthos followed the muffled barks until he came to a closed door. He tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. Throwing all his weight against it, he managed to move it, inch by inch, until he could squeeze through.
He found himself in the library. Porthos would have admired the collection of books if not for the fact that the room was an inferno.
The shelves that lined each wall were engulfed in flames and the fire was burning hotter with every new tome it devoured. Pieces of flaming paper danced on a breeze that was coming from the cracked window.
In the centre of the room, du Pont lay on his side in front of the now redundant fireplace, eyes closed. His dog was by his side, barking frantically at Porthos.
"And they say reading is good for you." Porthos muttered.
The Musketeer could see that a fallen bookcase had blocked the door, stopping him from opening it fully.
He shoved at the charred wood, managing to move the bookcase slightly and give himself more room.
"Here goes." He muttered, wrapping his cloak, which was now barely damp, more tightly round himself and beginning to climb under the fallen bookcase.
The heat was scorching and Porthos coughed until his lungs felt raw, but he made it across the room, through pockets of fire that were incinerating the wood flooring and plush rugs.
As he reached du Pont, he felt heat on his left arm. Turning and seeing his cloak was on fire, he dragged it off his shoulders and beat it against the floor until it was smouldering but no longer alight.
"Monsieur du Pont?" Porthos shouted.
The man didn't respond so he felt for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. Dragging the older man up off the floor, he pulled him across his shoulders.
"Good boy." He said to the dog, patting it on the head. "Let's go."
Porthos pushed into a standing position and contemplated whether he could get them both out the window. It would be the ideal exit if it wasn't blocked by another burning bookcase.
"Great." Porthos huffed.
The only way out was back the way he had come. He managed to make it halfway across the room before a piece of ceiling dislodged and fell on the bookcase in front of the door.
When the dust and soot cleared and he could see better, the tall Musketeer expected to see his path completely blocked.
Instead, the plaster had smashed cleanly through the wooden bookcase and broken into chunks, leaving him a clearer path to the door than he'd had before.
"I'd say that's a sign for us to get out of here." He said to the dog, and ran for the door.
Wrenching it fully open with his knee, he let the dog run through first and then dragged du Pont out.
Making it back to the main entrance was the most arduous task. Du Pont's extra weight sapped his energy with every step and the fire was so hot he thought he might pass out.
But eventually, the foyer came into sight and then he was through the front doors and breathing in cool night air. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
He made it several steps before other people arrived and helped take du Pont from him. Constance appeared out of nowhere looking relieved to see him and anxious at the same time.
"You're on fire!" She cried, patting hurriedly at his calf with a wet cloth until the embers went out.
Porthos ripped the hole in his trousers open further and was grateful to see that it was only a superficial burn.
"It's fine, barely touched me." He said, coughing some more. "Where are the others?"
"Aramis and Athos haven't come back from the bakery yet and d'Artagnan's still in there." Constance said, trying and failing to school her expression into something calm.
"He hasn't come out yet?" Porthos asked, feeling his own panic rising.
When Constance shook her head, he immediately went to the closest bucket, dunked his cloak back in and wrapped it around himself before pouring the rest of the water over his head.
"There was a maid that came out before," Constance said, "but she was alone and I couldn't get any sense out of her. She just kept saying something about the ceiling."
Porthos put the bucket down and turned to look at her. "I'm going back to look for him. When Athos and Aramis return, don't let them come in after us. The building is becoming too unstable."
Constance looked like she wanted to protest, but Porthos turned and ran back to the manor entrance before she could say anything further.
He didn't know if he and d'Artagnan were going to make it out of this in one piece, but he wanted to make damn sure that Aramis and Athos did.
"D'Artagnan!" Porthos bellowed, coughing as he inhaled more smoke. "D'Artagnan!"
He headed for the staircase, knowing that that was where he'd last seen the younger Musketeer, but he only made it up a few stairs before there was a loud groan from above.
Porthos looked up to see a huge wooden beam break loose from the ceiling and drop towards him.
He threw himself partly out of the way, but his reflexes were slowed by exhaustion and smoke inhalation and the beam caught him on the shoulder, knocking him to the ground and pinned him underneath.
Porthos had only a moment to feel pain and worry that he wasn't going to make it to d'Artagnan before his eyes rolled back and darkness claimed him.