Treville came trotting into the garrison on his horse, pulling it to a stop at the entrance. He swung his leg over to jump down, one of the stable boys coming over to take the horse's reins from him.

"Captain," the stable boy, Benjamin, greeted him and Treville nodded at the boy.

He walked further into the garrison to find three of the cadets sparring, two on one. They danced around each other wearing their blue training uniform, ducking and weaving swords and punches while also working on attacks at each other.

Treville smiled broadly at them before noticing Brujon sat on the table's top, eyes fixed on the sparring session and watching carefully. He seemed to be watching for slip ups, pointing them out each time and giving the cadets ways they could improve.

Treville walked over to him and Brujon glanced across before quickly standing up when he noticed who it was.

"Cap-Minister Treville," he greeted, bowing his head slightly out of respect.

"Brujon," he replied back before glancing around. "Do you know where Madame D'artagnan is?" He asked and Brujon nodded.

"Up in the Captain's office with Sylvie and Elodie," he said and Treville thanked him before making his way up to his old office.

He knocked on the door for Constance to reply with enter. He stepped in to find Sylvie sat in Athos' chair behind his desk, leaning back and looking relaxed while Constance stood pacing on the other side. Elodie sat in the chair opposite Sylvie, a bottle of wine and three cups on the table between them.

"Constance, Sylvie, Elodie," he greeted them all individually and Sylvie sat up a little straighter while Constance stopped pacing. "Something wrong?" Treville asked and Sylvie chuckled.

"No, we're fine. Constance here is trying to come up with the perfect revenge plan on Marcheaux," Sylvie informed him, causing him to give Constance a look.

"Nothing too dramatic," he warned and the woman gave Treville an innocent look.

"I would never," she replied before giving him a smile. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" Constance finally asked.

"I'm assuming you got a letter from Athos," he began and Constance nodded.

"It came earlier today," Constance informed him.

"Well, it may possibly be that the musketeers will be coming back sooner than you think," he said and all three of the women frowned slightly, Sylvie leaning forward in Athos' chair. "Peace treaty negotiations have been held over the past few days with the Spanish King," he said and saw Constance watching with her narrowed eyes. "And it looks like the musketeers are coming back, the Spanish King has sign the treaty after some persuading words early today," he said and they all smiled brightly.

"When will they return?" Elodie asked and Treville shifted from one foot to the other.

"It's hard to confirm a date but it will be within a few weeks, it'll take time to retreat from the front line," Treville told them and he saw a slight deflated look appear on all their faces, Sylvie leaning back into Athos' chair.

"Thank you for informing us Treville," Constance said, moving over to him. He gave her a smile which she gladly returned.

Aramis was sat on the bed with D'artagnan slowly lowering himself down to rest against the pillows pushed up on the backrest, groaning slightly from the pain.

"Just stay upright and try to keep moving. But not too far, I don't want you pushing yourself too hard," Aramis warned and D'artagnan turned his head to give the man a look.

"I'm fine," the young Gascon said, seeing the worried frown Aramis' eyebrows were pulled in.

"Of course you are, if you simply listen and follow my medical advice," Aramis told him and D'artagnan smirked back.

"Last time I check, you weren't actually a doctor," he replied and Aramis leant back slightly, seeing the old D'artagnan slowly coming back.

"He still has more skills than you in this situation," Athos commented from by the table where he had been hunched over it all afternoon.

"Still-" D'artagnan began but Porthos interrupted him.

"You should listen to your Captain," he said, glancing up from cleaning his pistol on his bed and giving D'artagnan a toothy grin. The younger member of their group simply rolled his eyes, yet they all knew he would listen to Aramis' words.

He wasn't strong enough yet to stand without feeling out of breath, let alone go walking through camp or even fighting alongside his brothers.

"So I'm to stay here in this tent, particularly stuck to the bed..." D'artagnan wondered off, glancing between his three brothers.

Porthos and Athos looked across at Aramis who smirked, aiming said smirk at D'artagnan.

"We can always tie you to the bed to make sure you don't try and escape," Aramis said and realised the second the words had slipped from his mouth they had been the wrong ones.

D'artagnan suddenly went awfully stiff, flashing memories of his time in the Spaniard's grip running through his mind.

The rope, the burning sensation against his skin as he swung for hours from the tree. He snapped out of it as quick as he had slipped into it, hoping his brothers hadn't noticed. However, they knew him too well, knew what every twitch of his muscles meant.

"I'd rather you didn't," D'artagnan said, trying to keep the mood light and not slip into the darkness that came along whenever his time in the Spanish hold was brought up.

"Well then, listen to my advice," Aramis said, knowing that D'artagnan would want to move past his sudden flashback.

The tent flap opened, breaking the silence that had fallen quickly over them, and Beaumont suddenly came rushing in.

"Captain," he began a little breathless. Athos straightened, going on full alert and expecting the worse. "They need you in the prisoners tent, Antonio has tried to escape," Beaumont said and all four musketeers straightened up.

"Have you caught him?" Athos asked, grabbing his sword belt and pulling it on as he saw D'artagnan tense in the corner of his eye.

"Yes, but not without a causality on our side," Beaumont said with a sorrowing look.

"How bad?" Aramis asked as Athos secured his sword.

"He'll survive," Beaumont said. "Antonio grabbed the guard's sword and stab him in the thigh," Beaumont informed them as D'artagnan started to try and climb out of bed.

"Don't," Athos warned, giving D'artagnan a look. "Watch him," he then said to Porthos and Aramis before following after Beaumont.

D'artagnan let out a long breath, glancing at Aramis and seeing the musketeer was itching to know more.

A few moments passed and Porthos locked eyes with Aramis who could see the larger man was practically itching to go after his friend. Aramis simply gestured his head towards the tent flap and with that Porthos went off after Athos.

Aramis turned back to checking over D'artagnan, hands pausing slightly as he worried about his two brothers.

The tent flap opened a couple of minutes later and they both turned, expecting it to be Athos and Porthos to see it was Duval instead.

"Letter for you all," he said, still limping slightly but looking a lot better. He handed it to Aramis before turning to leave.

"It's from Treville," Aramis told D'artagnan before tearing the seal open and reading the content aloud. "As you all know, I've been working with the Queen to organise a peace treaty between Spain and France," Porthos began

"Has he got it sign yet?" D'artagnan questioned.

"Let me finish," Aramis said softly with a smirk from how eager the boy was and D'artagnan fell silent.

"After careful arrangement and some... Persuading words to the Spanish King, the peace treaty was sign early today," Aramis said, his breath catching in his throat as he glanced at the next sentence. A huge smile formed on his lips and he looked up at his brother.

"The wars over, we're going home."

Soooooo, I've just got back into writing after so long away, life got in the way a little. I am terribly sorry for the very long wait and I promise the next chapter won't take as long to get up on here. Please be nice, I am really sorry it took me so long and I don't know if you guys are still even interested in this story. Anyway, if you are, please review :)