Evening My Lovelies

Notes On Reviews:

Debbie (Guest): Thanks for the review - Yeah probably don't want to face Athos on a good day let alone when he's pissed lol :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

pallysd'Artagnan: Thanks for the review - Athos is in a very dark place, something he's going to struggle with once he learns the truth I think. Porthos isn't going to let anything happen to Athos if he can help it though you'll have to read on to find out what happened :) Enjoy the new chapter! x

beeblegirl: Thanks for the review - Oh yeah dark Athos is something that will ignite fear in his enemies :D We'll see what caused Porthos's shout tonight. Enjoy the new chapter! x

WelshEssex: Thanks for the review - Well I do love my cliffhangers :D Yeah Rochey isn't the head honcho here but I will reveal who it is at some point don't worry :) Enjoy the new chapter! x

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

Love you all!

Enjoy!

xxx

Chapter Thirty: Revelations

Years of training by his brother's side had left Athos with an incredible amount of experience in being slammed to the ground by the larger musketeer and as such he was able to recover from the sudden attack fairly quickly, blinking away the last of the dark, vengeful fog he had been under since his youngest brother's death the swordsman had barely a moment to contemplate what had prompted such sudden action from his brother when a groan of pain from said man caught his attention.

"Porthos!" he cried out in alarm, spotting the blood now trailing down his brother's arm. Athos's eyes widened in surprise when he recognized the dagger now lodged just below his brother's shoulder, the swordsman's hand instinctively flying to the now-empty holster on his side, mentally cursing for allowing himself to become so lost in his desire for revenge that he missed being pickpocketed by the injured imposter who was now gripping the sword lodged in his own wound, letting out a sharp cry of pain as he forced it out, apparently not bothered by the injury it created on his other hand to do so.

Both musketeers watched warily as the gravely injured man used Athos's sword to slowly stagger to his feet.

"This will not end well for you," growled Athos as he stepped protectively in front of Porthos, who had now pulled the dagger from his arm and was using his bandanna to apply pressure to the bleeding wound.

Glaring at the imposter standing before them Athos drew his pistol, "If you wish to save your life I suggest you drop the sword."

For a moment it looked like the imposter was going to try to continue the fight but then Porthos stepped forward to stand at his brother's side, his own pistol levelled at the imposter. Knowing when he was beaten and not one to give up his life when there was a chance of escaping at a later date the imposter let out a quiet curse before releasing his grip on the sword, letting it clatter to the ground, much to Athos's clear annoyance.

Not wanting to risk his brother's reaction Porthos stepped forward to apprehend the injured man.

"Least we got one of you," grinned the imposter, chuckling darkly at the pain he saw flash across the swordsman's face, a grin that quickly faded when Porthos laughed, granting him the attention of both men.

"You sure about that?" asked Porthos tauntingly before smacking the butt of his gun against the side of the man's head, knocking him out instantly.

As he expected Athos was on him in a flash, his eyes wide with such pain and hope that Porthos knew he couldn't wait a moment more to inform his brother of the news.

Placing a hand firmly on his brother's shoulder he looked the man straight in the eyes and said the two words Athos had been so desperate to hear. "He's alive."

Like before Talbot was cautious as he made his way through the church's corridors towards where he had last seen his friend, unwilling to risk any more delays by being caught by the men in the church who may not be on their side like they had initially thought.

Thankfully it didn't take him long as the place was largely deserted given the time of day, however, the sight that greeted him when he reached the room sent his heart sinking into the ground as his feet became rooted to the spot.

"No," he breathed, eyes wide in alarm and fear as he took in the crumpled, bloodied form in the near distance. Part of him never wanted to move from where he stood frozen, fear flooding his veins as he tried to convince himself that the bloodied form wasn't his dear friend but before long he knew he needed to move and so, with somewhat shaky legs he moved quickly over to the crumpled form. A soft whimper of panic leaving his lips when, after gently lifting the person's head, he was greeted by the sight of his friend's blood-covered face.

"Fredrick," he called softly, his trembling hands lightly tapping the unconscious man's face in an effort to rouse him, an effort that quickly proved to be fruitless, much to his frustration.

When it became clear that Fredrick was not going to wake up any time soon Talbot then remembered who had likely caused his friend to be in such a state and, with his bloodstained hand slowly moving to grip the hilt of his blade, he slowly stood, turning towards the room Fredrick had been in when he last saw him.

Knowing that if Rochefort remained then the man was likely expecting some form of retaliation Talbot didn't waste any time on stealth, choosing instead to kick open the door, blade unsheathed and ready in his hands.

If he hadn't already seen Fredrick it would have been obvious there had been some sort of fight the moment he had opened the door as blood was splattered and staining a worrying amount of the room, the amount of which made Talbot strangely proud, knowing that all of it couldn't belong to Fredrick so his friend had given as good as he got.

A fact that was quickly backed up by the sight of another unconscious, bloodied form on the floor of the room. From where he stood Talbot couldn't be sure the figure was breathing so he slowly made his way forward, never relinquishing his hold on his sword, not trusting the figure he knew was Rochefort for even a moment.

It wasn't until he was knelt down right by the unconscious man that Talbot could be confident that the man was even alive, the former red guard's chest barely moving with each breath his battered and bloodied body took.

Now he was torn. Both men clearly needed immediate medical attention but he had no way of getting them both to the physician's at once, plus he while he didn't have it in him to leave a man to die, even a man like Rochefort, he did not feel comfortable bringing the man around the musketeers he had so dearly hurt.

The reminder of the man's actions towards his friends was enough to remove the overly merciful thoughts from the former musketeer's head. After a quick search Talbot was able to fasten some makeshift restraints around the unconscious Rochefort's form, leaving the injured man with barely a backwards glance as he returned to his friend's side, picking up the man with the utmost care before rushing back the way he had come to get Fredrick the help he so desperately needed… missing the shadow that entered Rochefort's makeshift prison in his haste.