Constance threw herself into her work the next morning, busying her mind with running the GArrison. However, there were moments when her mind would drift to him. He had been in her dreams last night, memories of when they were last together flickering through. The dreams soon turned to nightmares, nightmares that woke her up with a start and sweat covering her body.
"How are you feeling?" Sylvie's voice came from behind her and she turned, seeing the other woman stood leaning against the door frame. Constance sighed, placing down the papers she had been carrying onto the table next to her.
"I'm good," she said and the look on Sylvie's face said it all. "I didn't slept well last night," she the added honestly, knowing there was no point in lying to her friend.
"That's understandable," Sylvie said, walking down the few steps into the room. They were in one of the larger rooms that Sylvie used to get Paris more educated. She was still pushing for a better future, trying to give more people access to learning how to read and write. They were slowly making progress, however, the war was making it harder. It was mostly because of the limited supplies and many people just working and heading home, wanting to stay safe and be with their family whenever they could.
"You shouldn't push yourself too hard, Constance," Sylvie said, moving over to her.
"Neither should you," she replied. "I heard you pacing last night, how much sleep did you get?"
Honestly, Sylvie had gotten about an hour, maybe two at a push, of sleep last night, the thought of the men at war keeping her up. She couldn't stand the fact that they were all out there, risking their lives and now that D'artagnan was in the hands of the enemy... It just made things even more difficult and painful for them all.
"Have you eaten?" Sylvie asked, drawing the conversation back at Constance, who turned to pick up the papers.
"Not yet," she said and with that Sylvie locked arms with her to pull her gently out of the room.
Elodie sat at the table where the four musketeers usually ate their meals, her daughter in her arms as she smiled down at her. She looked up at the two women as they approached, giving them a soft smile and a good morning.
However, before either of them could reply, one of the cadets came running in, sweat dripping from his forehead and trying desperately to catch his breath to speak.
"It's the...the Red Guards," he managed to breath out before pulling himself up to stand straighter after doubling over slightly. "There's a riot... The poor are stealing from the Guards' new supply that's just been delivered... They're not handling it well," the cadet said and Constance glanced towards Sylvie who was already eager to go help sort the situation out.
"Show us where," Constance said, taking charge of the current situation. The cadet nodded and waved for his fellow musketeers to follow after him. "Sylvie," Constance called and the woman was already walking over, a sword being handed to her by one of the cadets, another being given to Constance.
The young cadet led the way through the streets to the riot, the shouts being heard before they had even rounded the corner.
The Red Guards stood in a circle around two large carts that were carrying bags of food for their regiment, the horses bucking slightly in fear from the growing crowd. The people of Paris surrounded them, pushing against the guards and trying to steal the food.
"Greedy scum!" One man shouted as he threw himself at one of the guards. "We're going to starve!" He growled, balling his hands into fists and swinging a punch that landed across one of the Red Guard's cheek, causing the Guard to stumble back slightly.
"Hey!" Marcheaux shouted, grabbing the man and pushing him backwards so he fell to the ground roughly.
He withdrew his pistol from his belt and the man suddenly cried out in fear. He then raised the pistol upwards and fired one warning shot into the air, silencing the crowd in a second.
"Back away now or I will have you all arrest and thrown in the Châtelet," Marcheaux ordered as Constance pushed her way through the crowd. The man on the ground was helped up by a few of his friends, all glaring at the Captain of the Red Guards.
"You don't know what it's like!" A woman shouted from the back of the crowd.
"We need food!" Another shouted and the crowd started to rise again, shouts of insults flying from their mouths as they tried to push against the Guards once more.
"Madame D'artagnan, you have no business here," Marcheaux snapped as Constance finally made it to the front of the riot.
"The musketeers are here to keep peace over Paris, this is clearly not peace," she said in a matter of fact tone, which only caused Marcheaux's anger to rise.
"We don't need help from you and your lap dogs," Marcheaux said, glancing at the cadets and looking a few of them up and down.
"Of course, because it looks like you have everything handled," Sylvie spoke up with sarcasm laced thickly in her voice, gesturing around her as one men threw a punch at one of the Guards.
"This is Red Guard business. You and your... Children should go back to the garrison, let the adults handle this," Marcheaux said, taking a hit at how young the cadets were. They all tensed, ready for a fight between regiments with the added help of the people of Paris, who were always on the Musketeers' side. It was known throughout both regiments that the Musketeers were the more favoured one within the streets, the Red Guards failing miserably in a gentle touch when it came to situations like these.
"Shut your mouth Marcheaux before I make you. My men are certainly more capable then your poor excuse," Constance said and the Captain growled.
"Are you threatening the Red Guards?" He asked, balling his hands up in anger.
"No, I'm threatening the Captain who can't keep his men in check," she said. Marcheaux went for his sword but Sylvie raised hers quicker, pressing the blade along the side of Marcheaux's neck.
"I dare you," Sylvie said as Marcheaux's eyes traced along the blade to its holder. Constance turned to look at the cadets, them all silently taking her orders in. They moved through the group, pushing the people back while remaining a gentle front.
"People I assure you that you will not go hungry," Constance began, the crowd silencing slightly to hear her speak. "Both Musketeer and Red Guard regiments will be glad to help, but stealing is not the way," Constance said and the crowd slowly began to take in her words.
"How do we know you're telling the truth?" A blonde haired man asked, his voice full of hostility.
"Because Musketeers are loyal and honest," Constance said with a glance toward her friend, who gave her a reassuring look. Sylvie then stepped forward, removing her blade from Marcheaux's neck.
"Constance is right, stealing is not the way about this. You have our word that we will bring you food and will not let your families go unfed," Sylvie said and the crowd slowly died down, their anger easing at the woman's words.
"Still doesn't mean the Red Guards will help!" A woman shouted from over to the right, a hand coming up in a fist and shaking it in anger. "Lying scum they are," she cried and the crowd nodded, grumblings beginning to rise once more.
"Captain Marcheaux, can you give your word to the people that you will help?" Constance asked, daring the man to go up against her. He glared at her, however his anger slowly drained once he realised he was outnumbered.
"Of course," he said and Constance simply nodded, turning back to the crowd who seemed to be weighing up their options.
"Food stations shall be set up throughout Paris where you can come for rations. In these times of great need, it is better to work together then go at each other's throats," Constance said and the crowd finally settled. They slowly began to disperse until only the Red Guards and Musketeers where left surrounding the two carts.
"My men will help," Marcheaux said with anger still brushing at the surface. "But we need food as well."
"Two carts of it I see," Constance said before turning on her heals and walking off, Sylvie falling into step with her while the cadets quickly followed.
Marcheaux growled in anger, throwing the pistol he still held to the ground.
"Mark my words," Marcheaux grumbled to his men once Constance and the others were out of earshot. "I will make that woman pay."
Athos sat at the table, fingers tracing the edge of the slightly ripped paper, eyes reading the familiar hand of Sylvie.
Porthos was laying next to Aramis on the bed, both on their backs staring up at the tent ceiling. Aramis had woken up the second Athos and Porthos had walked back into the tent after interrogating the Spaniard's. Porthos was currently informing him of what they had found out and a small light of hope shone in Aramis' eyes.
Athos ignored the soft tones of their conversation as he read the letter.
It's an odd feeling not having you all around at the Garrison, I just wished you were back here and safe with me. I know you have a duty to the crown and I don't blame you for it, I guess I just miss you.
A small smile appeared on his lips as he thought of her, missing her dearly but knowing his duty to France had to come first. He hated leaving her back in Paris but knew she was going to be safe in the garrison and that she had Constance and Elodie there with her.
Constance is finding the news about D'artagnan hard, forcing herself into her work and making sure the Garrison is running smoothly. Elodie misses Porthos, tell him that their baby girl laughed for the first time last night and that she misses her father very much. The Queen and the Dauphin are safe; Constance is going to see her tomorrow about seeing if we could get more supplies for the people. It's hard back here, a few small riots have broken out throughout the past couple of weeks but nothing the cadets can't handle though.
My thoughts are always with you, Athos, and I wish for your safe journey home.
Yours always,
Sylvie
"Marie laughed for the first time last night," Athos said, straightening up and turning to look at them both. "They're both perfectly fine and healthy," Athos reassured him and Porthos let a smile form on his lips as he sat up.
Aramis nudged the man in the side with his elbow, slowly pulling himself up as well to smirk at his brother. Athos then stood, slipping the letter into his breast pocket before going to grab Aramis some dinner, knowing the man hadn't eaten yet.
"I've decided to put Thomas in charge while we head out to chase up the lead we have on D'artagnan and the others," Athos told them as he walked over with a plate of food. "I have to speak with the General and clear things up but we should be heading out soon," he informed them both.
"How far out did the Spaniard say the camp was?" Aramis asked as Athos handed the plate to him before sitting down at the bottom of the bed.
"Seven miles," he said and Aramis nodded.
"Not that far. After I've finished this and you've spoken to the General we can get going, get to the Spanish camp before nightfall," Aramis said and Athos and Porthos shared a worried look.
"You're still badly injured Aramis," Porthos said, a hand coming to rest on the man's back as he ate.
"So is Athos," he replied and Athos let out a soft sigh, glancing across at Porthos. Aramis swallowed down a bite of the bread before straightening slightly, jaw set in determination. "If you think you're going to stop me from bringing our brothers back you're mistaken," Aramis added before turning to look at Athos, who seemed to be studying him. "Athos," Aramis warned and the look on Aramis' face caused Athos to back down.
"We weren't going to stop you, merely a suggestion for you to stay behind," Athos simply said and Aramis smirked, knowing that was Athos' way of saying he could come.
Aramis was quick at eating his food, making sure to eat it all since he knew Porthos was watching him. Athos returned from his meeting with the General and said everything was cleared up for them to leave on the rescue mission.
They walked out of the Captain's tent, all kitted up with their weapons and ready for the mission. Athos went over to talk to Thomas, who was waiting patiently by their horses. The musketeer was the most experienced after them three and the Captain knew he would do a good job at keeping order within the camp.
"If you are attacked then move on and send word back to Treville, don't wait for us to return. I fear we will be longer than expected in finding them anyway," he said and Thomas nodded, listening to Athos' every word.
"I won't let you down Captain," Thomas replied, pulling his shoulders back and holding his head high. Athos gave Thomas a small smile, clapping the man on the shoulder before turning and heading to his horse.
The second Athos had turned Thomas sagged, feeling the burden of being in charge fall heavily on his shoulders. Aramis and Porthos, both sat on their horses, glanced at each other having seen Thomas' expression.
"The man looks scared to death, what did you say to him?" Aramis teased as Athos joined them, just giving Aramis a look before pulling himself up onto his horse.
"Ready?" He simply asked and the two shared a grin before kicking their horses into action, all determined in bringing D'artagnan back safely.
Thank you for the follows and favourites and for the reviews. Next chapter up soon. Don't forget to review, it always makes me update quicker :)