Sunlight filtered steadily into the barn, casting a warm glow onto the cold floor as the men sat in silence, listening to bird songs skittering in the air. Aramis could not tell if many minutes had passed since the man in the red coat had left them, or whether it had been hours- time seemed to be working strangely here. His eyes fell to the ground up, dirty bread on the floor as his stomach grumbled; if was in reach he may have chanced a few bites, but alas it was in the middle of the room, and he legs could not reach that far.

He sighed to himself and drew his knees up to his chest; his eyes suddenly widened and his heart soared as he felt something beautifully familiar knock against his ankle bone.

'Guess what,chaps...' he whispered to the room at large, smiling ruefully at the three men in turn.

'I don't think this situation is really the best place for guessing games, Mis,' Athos muttered stoicly as he craned his neck for a better look around; the room was spars and held nothing that they could use as a weapon, to his great dissapointment.

'Check your boots,' Aramis replied, careful not to reveal too much- he didn't know if they were truly alone, or if someone was listening in.

Each man immediately moved their feet around in their boots- none of them could physically reach in with their hands, given that their arms were chained up, but their eyes all lit up when they felt the handles of their hidden blades dig into their ankles. They each smiled and nodded at Aramis as he sat back in a small cloud of relief. As least they weren't completely powerless-

The barn door opened again, crashing into the opposite wall and causing the men to jump slightly- Athos' eyes widened as he saw six large, burly men standing in the entrance, completely blocking the sunlight into the room.

'Well...' one of them muttered as they walked slowly into the room. 'Lets see what we've got this time...' this man seemed to be the leader- he was probably in his mid forties, with greying brown hair and a weathered, worn, face.

He surveyed each man in turn, and Porthos was vividly reminded of the cattle markets on a Saturday morning he'd used to go to when he was younger. One of the men even had a small scrap of paper and was making small notes as each man walked round the room, staring down at each musketeer in turn.

'This one seems capable...' he whispered to one of the men to his side, who nodded in a way that made Aramis feel very uncomfortable as they stood staring down at him. 'Strong physique...muscular chest, long legs... he could do well, yes.' The two men continued their checklist as they passed the medic and went round each of the other men, making small observations as they went.

'A good crop this year...'the man nodded, seemingly satisfied. 'When does it start?'

'Tonight.' A new, now horribly familiar voice cut into the men's verbatim. The man in the red coat was back, his face set in a hard look.

'Dad wants to talk to you all.' he said, voice direct.

'We're just making sure this year's...participants are of the correct calibre this time,' a man in the middle of the room said, smiling a little. 'Last year was so...lacklustre.'

Athos exchanged looks with Aramis across the room- this had happened before? Why had they not heard?

'What, they weren't good enough for you, hmm?' the man in the red coat sneered, his cheeks flushing slightly. D'Artagnan recognised warning signs of anger in him and prepared himself.

'They were...adequate.' the man nodded, to which the other men muttered in agreement.

'But servant boys and stable hands can only provide so much sport...now soldiers-musketeers, no less- well, they...they will do nicely, we think.'

The man in the red coat let out a breathy laugh and stood up straighter, eyes narrowing. 'The old man wants to see you. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.'

'Fine- when...?' the man gestured vagually around at the men on the floor.

'Sundown.'

'Fine.' the man nodded, before leading the rest of the men out of the barn, leaving the musketeers once again alone with the man in the red coat.

'Please,' Aramis began, trying his luck- as soon as he spoke he realised it was a mistake; the man turned his head to face him, his eyes narrowed. 'Lets just talk.'

'Quarry does not talk.'

'Look, you don't want to do th-'

' I said...' the man cried, striding over to the medic with danger in his eyes- in one swift movement he bent in front of him and punched him in the face. Aramis yelled and gasped loudly as he felt warm blood seep from his nose and down his chin.

'You. Don't. Talk.' the man curled his hand around Aramis' hair and yanked his head back, causing him to start choking on his own blood as he forced him to stare into his eyes. 'Are we clear?'

Aramis closed his eyes against the pain and nodded- 'Perfectly...'

The man smiled as he stood up; he looked at each man in turn, and he seemed pleased to see each man wore an expression of abject fury on their faces.

'Cheer up, Gents,' he said whimsically, 'Its nearly time to play!' he chuckled and turned away, walking towards the door and slamming it behind him.

Aramis groaned loudly as the noise of his footfalls on the gravel path outside started to fade away. He swore very loudly and spat a glob of blood onto the floor, before sitting back and closing his eyes against the pain in his nose.

'You ok, Mis?' Porthos asked, voice bristling in anger.

'I will be, my friend.' he replied, eyes still closed as his nose throbbed. They all stopped as they heard what sounded like a whole crowd of people outside- many voices could be heard walking the path outside the barn, before they disappeared seconds letter. D'Artagnan surmised they were going into the farmhouse.

Porthos growled under his breath and shook the chains that tethered him. 'If only we could get out of these chains we could-'

'Do what?' Athos muttered, he looked at the room at large.

'If we escape, where do we go? We're drastically outnumbered; we have no weapons apart from a small knife each. Each man out there knows the terrain so much better than us.'

'So what do you suggest?'Aramis asked, his blue eyes now standing out drastically from his pale face and blood-crusted nose and chin.

Athos took a deep breath. 'Those men said these "games" start at sundown. By the sound of it, they let us go...into the woods, into the open, and then they chase us down...' he looked across at D'Artagnan, who he could see was looking at him in panic; an almost childlike expression of fear. He felt it too, could barely stop it from bubbling to the surface, but he knew he had to remain calm...at least on the outside.

'Bloody hell...' Aramis sighed, screwing his face up. 'What the hell have we got ourselves into?!' he added, before shaking his chains in a desperate bid to break them.

'Mis, I know you're in pain, and we're all scared here, but I- we- cannot do this without you! Athos yelled above the noise.

'Sorry, sorry...' Aramis said, a flush creeping up his neck.'Just needed to get it out my system.'

'It's alright, no need to apologise.' Athos muttered, before turning to Porthos, who was nearest the window.

'How long until sundown, do you think?' he asked.

Porthos craned his neck, taking in the cloudly sky. 'Dunno, a few hours I'd reckon.'

''Ok...here's my plan. We play them at their own game. We go into those woods and we just run as fast as we can; we only fight if we have to. They've said it themselves- we're good prey because we have our training. They know this, and they're going to pull out all the stops to get us...we just have to be better.' Even as he spoke Athos' heart sank. What sort of plan was this?

'We have no other choice. We cannot do anything whilst chained up like dogs.' he continued, as if trying to justify himself and his idea of an escape. 'We're better off unshackled and in the wilderness.'

Aramis nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath. 'Its the best we've got.' He looked across at the Gascon, who had a pale tinge to his skin. 'You alright, lad?'

'No...but I'll get there,' he replied, giving him a small, foced smile.

'Good lad- I swear to you, we'll make sure nothing happens to you.' Each man nodded at the sentiment as D'artagnan chuckled lightly. 'Like guardian brothers, eh?'

'Exactly.' Athos nodded, before sighing. 'Now, and I know this is going to sound crazy, but we need to make sure we're ready for tonight. We need to sleep.'

Each musketeer nodded uneasily, and, despite every nerve and fibre in their bodies telling them not to, they lay awkwardly on the cold stone floor and closed their eyes, each of their hearts full of fear of what sundown would bring...

Writer's block is a cruel mistress- I'm sorry for being gone for so long! Please forgive me!

Next chapter will be up soon!

Happyday girl x

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