D'artagnan woke with a start, snapping his head back up from where it had fallen against his chest as he had slept. He blinked back sleep as he tried to focus his foggy mind. His whole body was aching and beginning to slowly lose feeling, his upper body still stretched as he hung from the tree. His throat was sore from the limited amount of water he had drunk, the last drop being back at the French camp before they had headed out on the mission and got ambushed two days ago now.
They had been given a few scraps of food from the remains of the Spaniard's meals, however water was another thing.
He licked his dry lips, the roughness of his throat making itself present once he tried to swallow. He let out a breath before letting his head drop back to his chest, not having the effort to hold it up. He wasn't sure he going to last any longer hanging from the tree, with no water and the small amount of food they were getting he needed to think of something fast.
He glanced over to the musketeers, most of them still curled up on the ground asleep. His eyes came to rest on Philippes, seeing that the man was sat up straight and watching the few Spaniards that had arisen early in the morning, his eyes wide and shoulders stiff. Feeling D'artagnan's gaze on him he glanced over, locking eyes for a few seconds before the sound of footsteps broke them.
D'artagnan didn't have enough time to even think before the rope was cut and he was falling towards to the mud, landing harshly on the ground face first.
He let out a cry of pain as his whole body protested against the sudden movement. He squeezed his eyes shut as the blood rushed back to his hands after so long of being tied above his head. His body throbbed, painful relief flowing through him. He laid there for a few seconds completely still, breathing in the dirt while allowing time for his upper body to regain feeling.
He then coughed as the dirt tickled his nose, his throat dry and mind foggy, dehydration starting to kick in.
Suddenly, a water skin was thrown down next to him, landing inches away from his face before the Spaniard moved on, handing out water to the rest of the now awake musketeers.
D'artagnan rolled onto his side slowly, pushing with all the strength he had left to sit himself up, his arms shaking violently under the strain. He took in a breath once sat up, a wave of dizziness hitting him and causing his world to spin.
Once the trees had settled to the upright position he could then work on picking up the water skin. It took him a while to get his arms to do what his brain was commanding them to do, but finally, after a few intense moments, he managed to pick the water skin up.
He fumbled with it slightly due to his tied hands but he soon had it open and was gulping greedily at the fresh water.
He let his hands drop back down once he had drain it of water, taking a deep breath to fill up his lungs before looking back at the others.
"Are you alright?" D'artagnan asked Philippes, eyes dropping down to the healing wound on the young musketeer's neck.
"I'm fine, you?" Philippes asked back and D'artagnan simply nodded.
"Now that I'm back on solid ground," he added before rolling his shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness that ached his sore muscles.
"I think we're moving," Philippes then mumbled to him, glancing towards the Spaniard's slowly tracing around the camp, a few of them starting to pack away.
"It seems so," D'artagnan said back, coughing slightly, a small groan escaping his lips afterwards.
"Do you think they'll find us?" Duval suddenly piped up, shuffling forward to get closer to the two of them. The rest of them suddenly glanced over, curious to what D'artagnan would say. The older musketeer looked up at them all, realising then that they had made him their leader. He swallowed, feeling the sense of responsibility suddenly drown over him.
"Emm..." He began, and he tried to think of what Athos would say in the current situation. He looked at their frightened faces and wide eyes, all hoping D'artagnan wouldn't say the thing they were all dreading. "Yes," he said, finally finding his voice. "I believe the Captain and the rest of our comrades are trying their best to find us. However we must stay strong until they get to us, which I promise you they will," D'artagnan said and he saw his words had put a slight ease to their worries.
They all slowly slumped back, having leant forward to listen to D'artagnan, and fell silent into their own worried thoughts. Philippes watched their now leader with careful eyes, trying to pick up on D'artagnan's uneasiness.
When D'artagnan looked at Philippes he couldn't help but see himself in the young boy, seeing so much potential and determination. It made him think of how Athos must have seen him, D'artagnan having become Athos' protégé in some words.
Before Philippes could speak up his concern, the flap to the Captain's tent sounded and Antonio strode out. He gave a glance towards the prisoners, eyes coming to rest on D'artagnan who just glared back.
He watched Antonio sit down by the dying fire and eat breakfast with his men, casual conversation picking up as if there weren't starving musketeers sat a few metres away from them. D'artagnan ignored the low grumble that occurred from his stomach, looking away from the eating Spaniards and towards the trees where the birds were singing away.
His mind fell back into memories of his three brothers and him all out in the forest, looking after the Queen. A soft smile formed on his lips as he remembered Aramis drowning in the blissfulness that was the bird's peaceful singing. However, that had lasted only a short while before he finally snapped and tried to shoot birds and stop their now annoyingchirping.
If the situation had been different, D'artagnan would have thought the morning as a peaceful one, the sun shining through the gaps in the trees as it rose slowly in the sky. He wondered what his brothers were doing and whether they had found a lead in their search of him and the others.
God knew what they were thinking or how they were coping. D'artagnan wanted to tell them that he was fine, to put his brothers' minds at ease. However, it was something he just couldn't do and it pained him every second knowing they were worried for him.
After Antonio had finished his breakfast he stood, moving over to where D'artagnan's and the rest of the musketeers' belongings were laid in a pile on the ground. He plucked up D'artagnan's hat, twirling it around before glancing up at the sun. He then walked over and roughly placed the hat on to D'artagnan's head.
"Wouldn't want my favourite musketeer to go unprotected from the sun now, would I," Antonio said with a smirk before walking towards his tent, D'artagnan glaring after the man from under his hat.
The sun was set high above them when it was finally time to move, D'artagnan and the others being tied to the horses and forced to walk behind.
He walked next to Philippes who was allowing D'artagnan to slump against him slightly. He was still shaky on his feet, the beating he had gotten last night still throbbing and making itself known.
He glanced towards the soldiers on the horses, making sure none of them were looking before he pulled the feather from his hat. He then dropped it to the ground discretely, making sure the sharp tip was stuck in the mud before glancing up at Philippes and falling back into step with him.
"You're leaving a trail?" He asked and D'artagnan nodded, glancing towards the soldiers riding ahead.
"It might not work but it's worth a shot," D'artagnan said, keeping his voice low and Philippes nodded in understanding.
There were many horse tracks along the path and picking the right one to go down was a slim chance. So D'artagnan had come up with the idea of leaving clues, anything he could think of that his brothers would recognise as him.
As he walked, his mind slipped to Constance, wondering if she knew about what had happened to him. He missed her, missed waking up to her every morning, missed her smile and the way her eyes shined, her snappy responses and her caring nature. There wasn't a moment when he didn't think of her; even if she was in the back of his mind, she was still there.
He wanted to tell her that he was ok, that he wasn't hurt and would be back in her arms soon. His heart ached as he thought of the worry she must be in, giving anything to be back with her.
After eating breakfast with some of the musketeers, Athos decided to go and interrogate the Spaniard's Aramis and Porthos had managed to bring back. Porthos followed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he walked after Athos.
"Which one of you is the leader?" Athos asked as he and Porthos came to a stop in front of the four prisoners. The other two they had taken in sat apart from the group, keeping their heads low and ignoring the two musketeers.
He waited patiently until finally a blonde haired man glanced towards the Spaniard closest to Athos. He looked across at the Spaniard in question, seeing how the man then pulled his shoulders back and held his head high now that he had been given away.
Already, Athos knew it wasn't going to be an easy interrogation, just from the look of the man.
"I believe your Captain has taken a few of our men," Athos began, staring down at the man and putting up an intimidating front. "I also believe that you know where they're heading," Athos said and the Spaniard simply lifted his head even higher, showing Athos he was better than them.
"Like hell I'm going to tell you where they're heading or where they're camping," the Spaniard replied, his accent thick and eyes boiling with anger.
Athos crouched low in front of the man, his eyes stony and face set hard. The Spaniard glared across at the Captain, gritting his teeth in anger.
"You'll never find your friends," the Spaniard began. "Their probably dead by now, the Captain has no use for some musketeer scum," he said and Athos felt Porthos tense behind him. He, however, kept his expression neutral and simply straightened his back, putting himself at a higher level over the Spaniard. He looked down at the man who seemed to not want to back down with the insults. "Your friends are probably filth on the floo-"
"You may want to stop with the insults. My friend here only has a limited amount of patience with people like you… people who think themselves above others," Athos said, gesturing a hand towards Porthos who started cracking his knuckles as a tactic to intimidate the prisoner.
"I am above you, you pathetic fool," the Spaniard said before he spat in Athos' face. The Captain didn't even flinch, simply sighing and standing up before pulling out a cloth from his pocket. He glanced at the other Spaniards, catching the blonde one sat a few metres away looking shaken and mouth open slightly as if to speak.
Athos turned and nodded to Porthos before wiping his face with the cloth. The larger musketeer suddenly stepped forward and grabbed the front of the Spaniard's jacket, roughly pulling him up close to Porthos' face. He raised a fist in ready to punch the Spaniard before someone suddenly spoke up.
"South! It's south," a prisoner said, his voice frantic.
It was the blonde one.
Athos smiled to himself, happy his plan on scaring the younger Spaniard to speak had worked.
"Their camp is south," the Spaniard then said, his voice slightly more steady this time. The two musketeers glanced at each other before looking at the man.
"How far?" Athos asked, moving over to crouch down low in front of the Spaniard. The prisoner swallowed, glancing at his brothers who all stared at him with wide eyes. He looked back at Athos, taking in a shaky breath before speaking.
"About seven miles from here, near the Dordogne River," he said and Athos studied him, trying to stop his heart from fluttering with the small hope of finding D'artagnan. "They've probably moved on by now though," he then said and Porthos walked over, standing behind where Athos was crouching and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Where are they heading?" Porthos asked.
"I don't know," he said. "I'm being honest," he then added when he saw the look on both the musketeers' faces.
Athos then nodded before standing, turning to look at Porthos. The larger man studied the Spaniard for a couple more seconds before turning and walking away, Athos falling into step with him.
"You believe him?" Porthos asked and Athos shrugged, a hand coming up to run through his long and unkept hair.
"There's only one way to find out," Athos then said and Porthos looked over at him. "Don't set your hopes on it though Porthos, we still have a long way to go," he said, causing Porthos to glance away and down at the ground as they walked.
"I know, I just want to get him back," he said and Athos threw an arm around Porthos' shoulder, pulling him close.
"And we will," he said, giving Porthos a reassuring squeeze before dropping his arm. He knew how Porthos was feeling, they were all feeling the same way. With D'artagnan gone, things just didn't seem to be right; nothing was when either of them was away from their group. It was the four of them and that's how it always was. With D'artagnan being missing, it seemed to hang over their heads like a dark cloud, breaking their somewhat dysfunctional family.
"Captain," a musketeer called from behind and Athos stopped to turn around. "This came for you a few moments ago," he said, handing Athos the letter.
"Thank you," he said before the musketeer walked off.
For a moment, Athos thought it was Constance's reply as he ripped the seal open, not wanting to look down at the writing scribbled across the paper. However, the second his eyes landed on the first word his lips curled up into a soft smile, recognising Sylvie's hand in a heartbeat.
He suddenly folded the letter up, knowing Porthos had glanced over his shoulder to see who had written to him. Athos turned to face Porthos, seeing the small grin on the man's lips.
"Shut up," he then said and Porthos held his hands up in surrender.
"I wasn't going to say anything," he said, defending himself before clapping Athos on the shoulder and heading back to the Captain's tent.
Thank you for the reviews, favourites and follows. I know it was short with D'artagnan but I promise more will come, I'm just building up to it. Next chapter will be up soon, college is the death of me at the moment. Anyway, please review it makes my day knowing people are still reading and actually liking my story :)