December Desolation Chapter 45

Treville was beginning to lose his patience.

He liked to think of himself as a reasonable man, one who would put up with much from his men as long as it was reasonable and they were fulfilling their duties. Those who knew him would hesitantly agree with this description of his character, for the Captain of the King's Musketeers could be a harsh taskmaster indeed, and most unforgiving of soldiers who were in any way lax in their duties.

Asides from the select few of course. The inseparables were a different case altogether.

None other than Athos could get away with questioning Treville's orders, discussing sensitive details with the older man and even being given free reign to do what he thought right, as long as Treville was not implicated.

Only Porthos could beat Red Guards to a pulp after being accused of cheating at cards and be let off with stable duty.

Most of all, if any other man had even thought of getting up to half of the antics Aramis had perpetuated throughout his years, they would have faced the whip!

And that was all without mentioning D'artagnan and his manner of snowballing his way into their ranks.

But to put it plainly, Treville was fuming.

He was moments away from erupting in a storm of enthused expletives, involving his four missing men and some rather impolite statements regarding the status of their births.

Whirling around in a fury, he swung his fist violently towards the beam nearest the door to his office and let out a primal shout of rage. Thankfully, he pulled his punch before making contact otherwise he would be out of action with bruised knuckles or worse, and he could only imagine what the King and Cardinal would have to say about that.

One of his men, whom he held as close to his heart as the son he resigned himself to never having, was missing. Such was the sacrifice a soldier made to reach a high position such as the one he held, his situation however was compounded by his personal relationship with the Royal family. He had been riding with the young Louis at the back of the procession in Paris, when King Henry IV was murdered in broad daylight in the middle of the bustling streets, he lived with the guilt everyday. If only he had spotted the flash of the blade in the crowd, the darting eyes of someone nervously awaiting discovery for a crime they have yet to commit, most of all he wished he had not lost the perpetrator in the midst of all the Parisians who had flocked to see the Queen's coronation.

In his dreams he still saw the flash of crimson melting into a maelstrom of colour, the pain in his chest as he watched a man he respected and cared for callously murdered before his eyes still struck him from time to time. As the screaming had started, little Louis had seized his doublet from behind and buried his face in it, crying desperately in fear, great hiccoughing sobs that wracked his entire body. The warm weight of his small, fragile body ignited a spark within him like the striking of a flint in the darkness and he knew then immediately what he had to do.

In that instance, he had thrown propriety to the wind and whirled on one booted heel, enveloping the child in a warm hug, one calloused hand cupping his head, fingers threaded in the dark curls and asserting pressure to keep him there.

"Don't look, don't look" he murmured soothingly, casting his eyes around the square in concern, observing the hysteria, but it seemed as if they were in their own little bubble of calm, the eye of the storm as it were. "it will all be alright, Louis, I will take care of you"

Now, fifteen years later, Treville was still keeping that promise, protecting his King with his life no matter what. But it wasn't easy, it had taken its toll on him, evident in his greying hair and salt and pepper beard, each one he attributed to the King's and his men's antics causing him no end of stress.

This entire situation now was case in point. His four best had returned at odds, one severely injured and neglected, his eccentric monarch had sent them all on a woodland retreat away from his observation and remit of control and now they had been injured, attacked, kidnapped and delayed all in a matter of days!

To top it all off, not a single word had been heard from them since Athos had jotted out a missive letting him know that they had retrieved Aramis, not that he had been aware they were missing him in the first place, and were making their way home soon, but they had yet to arrive and there was no correspondence in Athos' hastily scrawled cursive to let him know why.

He was this close, this close to tearing his hair out.

"I'm going to retire" he murmured in a bemused daze, "I can't cope with all this stress, I control madmen and it's going to kill me"

He jolted in surprise as a hand landed heavily on his shoulder, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Serge who had stumped up behind him on his gammy leg, without him noticing to somehow catch him off guard. "Now Captain, it aint all that bad" he grinned, "and your boys are back now"

True enough, now it had been pointed out to him, and he had been dragged from his brooding by the old veteran, his ears picked out the familiar and welcome sound of a horses hooves on the Garrison's cobbles.

A sound he had been yearning to hear for hours now, his boys were back.

Rushing down the stairs, he tried his best to remain collected and not appear as if he were running to greet them like some lovesick damsel whose beau had just returned to sweep her of her feet. He reached the ground with a satisfying click of his boot heels and was facing the Garrison gates just as the Inseperables were getting ready to dismount.

"Athos" he called out, keeping his voice firm and business like but unable to hide the gruff undertone from those who knew him best "a little warning would have been nice"

"Apologies Captain but my hands were otherwise occupied and errand boys hard to come by"

Porthos chuckled and slapped Athos on the thigh where he now stood beside his horse, having dismounted and walked over whilst they were talking and preparing to catch Aramis.

"Now you know that aint true Ath, we have an errand boy with us permanently, you should have sent Dart"

Watching the boisterous man jerk a thumb over his shoulder at a rather disgruntled looking Gascon, Treville felt something settle in his heart that he hadn't realised was out of place until that very moment. He was content having his sons back where he could see them, where he could take care of them.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, here's another chapter! Thank you everyone for your continued support, hopefully the next one will be up soon too. Please let me know what you think :D