They rode in relative silence all the way to the Belgard estate. D'artagnan pretended not to notice the sideways glances from his companions who kept trying to check his condition as they rode. Frustration bubbled up inside him as he noticed their paced had slowed some after his horse stumbled over a root eliciting a small gasp of pain before D'artagnan could stop himself.
It wasn't until the large house was in sight that they allowed there pace to quicken. Once on the property the group dismounted and lashed their mounts to a nearby tree before continuing on foot.
Just outside of the courtyard they stopped to listen to the voice emanating through the open wooden doors. They could make out the familiar baritone of Porthos, another much older man, Helena, and her husband. Then suddenly a shot rang out. That spurred the musketeers into action and they drew their pistols.
In seconds the courtyard was a cacophony of musket blasts and shouting as the Musketeers aimed to protect Porthos. Who in turn was protecting a young woman wearing a dirty and torn dress. Porthos kept his pistol trained on Helena and her guards.
D'artagnan's side flared painfully as he dove for cover behind a stone pillar just as a ball impacted the wall just behind where D'artagnan's head had been just seconds earlier. Spots danced behind his eyelids and he held his breath and waited for the worst of the pain to pass. The Gascon started returning fire once more, but could feel warm liquid against his skin as it became trapped beneath the bandages Aramis had tied snuggly around his torso.
The others watched as Porthos hid the girl behind cover and took off after his father with his pistol drawn and a determined look on his face.
Captain Treville had to shout to be heard over the din, "Athos!" he yelled from his position near the door that Belgard and Porthos had disappeared through, "You handle these guys, I am going to have a talk with my old friend."
Athos nodded from behind the fountain in the center of the courtyard and exposed himself to draw the attention of the remaining guards and allowing the Captain the opening he needed to enter the manor unchallenged.
It did not take long for the three remaining Musketeers to turn the fight in their favor and a few minutes later they had subdued the last of the guards.
"Should we go after them?" asked a winded D'artagnan, hand wrapped around his middle and shoulders rolled forward.
"No, the Captain will have it sorted out soon enough." Answered Athos.
As if summoned by words alone, Porthos appeared in a nearby doorway followed closely by Treville.
"Shall we?" he asked in his low baritone. The others agreed and as a group turned to depart.
"What will you do now?" Athos asked Porthos as they neared their horses.
"Same thing I've always done," he replied.
"And what about your inheritance?"
"Belgard has nothing that I am interested in, " answered Porthos, "Still, it is a bigger house than yours."
Athos laughed at the correctness of the statement.
Aramis removed a small bundle from hiss saddle and approached Porthos, "Well if you're staying, you'll be needing this then." He offered him the bundle which contained Porthos's leather shoulder guard bearing the Musketeer's crest.
"All for one," stated Aramis.
"Yeah, I know," Porthos replied accepting the scarred leather. It fell right into place as he slid his arm through the straps. The familiar piece was like an extension of Porthos's soul. He decided then that he would never give it up again.
The Musketeers mounted their horses and rode away smiling and laughing again as if nothing would ever tear them apart.