D'artagnan didn't know how long they had been walking before suddenly the leading rider, who had scouted ahead, came trotting back down the path. He pulled his horse to a stop, his hand coming up to warn the others. They all followed, slowing their horses and becoming weary of what the lead rider had seen around the bend in the path up ahead.
He swung his leg over his horse and dropped with a light thud to the ground, pulling out his pistol once settled.
The rest of the soldiers followed and D'artagnan watched carefully, straining his ears to hear for anything. He told himself it wasn't his brothers; no way could they have gotten to them so fast. A small part of him did wish though. He wished that Porthos, Aramis and Athos would come riding down the path, swords draw and faces full of fury.
However, his heart sunk as the lead rider spoke.
"It's a small French camp, about eight men," he mumbled to Captain Antonio who stood a few metres forward from D'artagnan.
"Take them," he simply said and D'artagnan balled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms.
"No!" He shouted, pulling at the rope around his wrists. "Do you have no mercy?" He questioned as Antonio's men took to the trees to sneak up on the French camp up ahead.
"You would have no mercy if you'd seen the things you French scum have done to us," Antonio said, turning to look at D'artagnan in disgust.
"And you haven't done the same?" D'artagnan questioned as the Spanish soldiers disappeared from view. Antonio simply shrugged, causing D'artagnan to growl in anger.
Shots rang through the air and swords hit flesh, cries of pain and the heavy sound of bodies hitting the ground caused the musketeers to flinch. In a matter of minutes, deafening silence fell and the smell of blood and gunpowder hung thick in the air as they made their way around the corner.
Antonio stopped to survey the scene ahead of him, the musketeers all stood behind, trying to hold back the anger as well as the sorrow. D'artagnan swallowed back the tears, his anger towards the Captain taking over from his sadness.
Philippes let out a quiet sob with his head hung low against his chest as he prayed for his brothers, gripping the cross around his neck with his tied hands. The sight of his friend caused D'artagnan's to suddenly think of Aramis, remembering the many times Aramis had clutched his own cross.
D'artagnan glanced around at the other musketeers, seeing them all forcing back tears while also restraining their growing anger towards Antonio.
"You'll pay for this," D'artagnan growled at the Captain, his voice low and menacing. Unable to restrain his anger he went to lung for the Captain, ignoring his aching body.
Antonio, seeing D'artagnan's attack coming, stepped back quickly and shouted for one of his men. Two Spaniards were on him in seconds, gripping his arms and restricting D'artagnan's movement.
"I won't let you get away with this. You cold bloodied murderer," D'artagnan snapped, pulling at the men holding him back. Antonio watched D'artagnan's struggle, a harsh glare sent in the musketeer's direction.
"I'm getting tired of your talking," he then said before walking forward, pulling his scarf from around his neck and gagging D'artagnan with it.
D'artagnan let out a low growl, directing a glare at Antonio before the Captain turned. He pulled himself back up onto his horse, his men following. He then gave a rough tug of the prisoners rope and they all moved forward, D'artagnan stumbling slightly as he winced in pain. His injuries were still healing and the continuous work on his body wasn't helping.
"We'll revenge them, don't worry," Duval said from behind him, tugging at the rope around his wrists. "I'll make sure of it," he then grumbled and D'artagnan could only hum.
It was awful watching their brothers get killed but then having to walk through their small camp, eight bodies lying on the ground covered in their own blood... It would torment them all until their dying day.
Philippes turned his head away, keeping it low and staring down at the ground, being unable to look at the French soldiers.
On the other hand, D'artagnan looked at each one of them, remembering their faces and knowing they all had family back in Paris, family that were awaiting their safe return.
He took in a shaky breath as they exited the camp, continuing on their journey. He didn't need to leave a clue for his brothers, the Spanish having done that for him already.
He looked at the back of Antonio's head, the anger rising up within him once again as he plotted ways he was going to the Captain… Slowly and painfully.
Constance stood by the door to the Queen's quarters, shifting from one foot to the other as she waited for the doors to open. She was wearing her best dress and her hair pulled back neatly from her face.
The doors to the quarters open up and the Queen stepped through, looking as elegant as ever with her dress sweeping after her.
"Constance," she said softly, holding out a hand as she walked towards her friend. Constance took it and Anne gave her hand a gently squeeze. "How about a walk in the gardens?" The Queen suggested and Constance nodded, smiling at her before falling into step with Anne.
They made it to the gardens in comfortable silence, a few guards walking behind them at a distance.
"I hear you wanted to speak to me," Anne then began, slowing her pace and glancing over at Constance.
"Yes Your Majesty, it's about the supplies," Constance said.
"Speak freely Constance," Anne replied and Constance smiled gently.
"The people of Paris are getting anxious. Riots are breaking out against the Red Guards, the public saying they aren't getting enough food… People are dying, Your Majesty. Illness is spreading quickly through the streets and with limited medical supplies, well…" Constance wondered off, knowing the Queen knew what she was trying to say.
"When's the next shipment of supplies into the garrison?" Anne asked and Constance paused, counting the days since the last one.
"In two days," she then replied and the Queen nodded.
"I'm sure the palace can reduce the amount of food it takes and I'm almost certain we can spare the medial supplies we have to give to the people of Paris," Anne said and Constance smiled at her, thankful she understood the struggle the public were in. "How many riots have there been?" Anne asked, wanting to know everything that was happening in Paris.
"Only a few. We're working with the Red Guards to try and control the situation. We've set up food stations for the poor, giving out rations so that they can at least feed their families," Constance informed her and the Queen nodded before gesturing to the stone bench stood near a patch of beautiful flowers.
"The two regiments are getting along?" She asked as they both took a seat on the bench. She knew there was history between the two, tavern brawls the minimum of what had occurred between regiments.
"With persuasion and threats, yes they are," Constance said and Anne looked over at her.
"Not your doing I take it," she teased and Constance glanced towards the ground, a small smile forming on her lips.
"With the help of Sylvie," she informed her and the Queen nodded.
"The woman of the people?" She asked, remembering hearing Sylvie's name before.
"You could say so, the people trust her to get justice for them," she said before looking up at the Queen. She saw a hint of pain in the Queen's eyes and couldn't understand why. Suddenly, Anne took Constance's hand in hers and brushed her thumb across the woman's knuckles.
"Treville informed me of the missing Musketeers," she began and Constance straightened slightly, unsure if she could have this conversation yet.
The emotions of losing D'artagnan were still too raw to be able to talk about it.
"He says that your husband, D'artagnan, is one of the seven taken by the Spanish," Anne said and Constance nodded, looking down at the ground unable to look Anne in the eyes. "I can't image how hard it must be for you Constance, but I want you to know that I'm always here for you," Anne said and gave her hand a squeeze, causing Constance to look up at her with tear filled eyes.
"Thank you Your Majesty," Constance said and the Queen smiled at her. She then leant over, slipping her hand out of Constance's grip to give the woman a hug.
Constance then let the tears flow, knowing she couldn't hold them back any longer. Anne rubbed circles on her back to try and sooth her, Constance burying her head into her neck.
"It's going to be alright," the Queen then said and Constance sniffed, pulling herself back together before moving away slightly. Anne smiled softly at her, seeing how much the woman was hurting caused her heart to ache. She brushed a strand of hair from Constance's face before taking her hand, pulling the woman up to stand.
"Come on, I'm sure my son would love to see you," Anne said and Constance smiled, allowing herself to be guided back to the palace.
Tell me what you thought of this chapter and if you want more, slowly losing faith in this story. I have it all set out but the words just aren't coming right now...