A/N: I swear I was going to do a crack piece about how Aramis's obsession with his pistol, but that didn't really cut it from me. (Anyone wanting a prompt, please I would really like to see that happen)
Then Something Bad happened and I got into a mood where I like to hurt people. I started typing and this came out. I'm sorry. This is in no sense of the word a drabble, as a reviewer pointed out my drabbles are anyway too long to be called such. This is more like a complete story, but I'll do it in three parts.

Athos, Porthos and Aramis arrived at the musketeer barracks to find a large crowd assembled. All the guards were present, their friend d'Artagnan included, and they were all standing in neat organized rows, taking up most of the space in the courtyard.

"I didn't know Gerard had a training exercise scheduled today," Porthos said.

"He doesn't. Not that I know of." Athos agreed, making his way to their usual place at the table which had been pushed to the side today. "Must be one of his surprise inspections."

"Probably," Aramis agreed, the three of them sitting down. "Ah look, here he comes."

Gerard Bronx, Captain of the Red Guards was a big beefy man with an obnoxious voice who had all the pomp and none of the valor of a musketeer. He was exactly the sort of man that Athos went out of his way to avoid, having no patience for their misinformed sense of self-importance.

He strode over to the head of the unit assembled, pausing to make sure that he had the attention of not only his men but also the musketeers who were lounging around waiting for their orders, and started pacing at the head of the line, before addressing his men.

"It has been brought to my attention that some of you are not carrying yourself with the proper conduct that is required of one who wears the uniform of a red guard." He paused, his sharp eyes taking in any movement from the soldiers, none of whom gave anything away. He stopped right in front of d'Artagnan, who stood with his head held high and his eyes forward.

"Boy, there are rumors that you spent all of last night in the tavern," Gerard shouted, his face so close to d'Artagnan's that the spit flying out of his mouth landed on the taller man's chin. "Is this true?"

"Yes sire, but – " d'Artagnan started to explain that he had not been drinking at all, rather he had been there to make sure Athos got back home safely after drinking himself into a stupor.

"Answer yes or no, boy!" Gerard shouted.

Athos gripped the handle of the cup that he was holding. He could tell that Gerard knew very well why d'Artagnan was at the tavern. He could also tell that the obnoxious man did not care in the slightest.

D'Artagnan must have realized the same thing because he swallowed and spoke after a moment's hesitation, his voice ringing clear in the courtyard which had suddenly became very quiet. "Yes sire."

"And were you late this morning in reporting to your duties?"

Aramis inhaled sharply. This morning he had seen d'Artagnan making his way to the barracks and asked him to fetch him a salve from the apothecary's first, for the wound that Porthos had sustained on their last mission, two days ago. He himself had been rather busy with a particularly lovely lady whom he had met last night and the poor lad had obeyed his request.

Again d'Artagnan could not deny the accusation. "Yes sire."

There was a particularly nasty look on Gerard's face that Athos did not like in the slightest. "And were you staggering when you first entered the barracks?" he asked.

D'Artagnan frowned. He had been limping slightly but that was only because he had ran to the barracks from Aramis's home so that he wouldn't be late and the gash on his leg that he had received on their last mission had started throbbing painfully. Again the question wasn't one he could deny, though he strongly suspected that the captain meant that he was drunk. "Yes sire, but… - "

"Silence, boy!" Gerard snarled. "You disrespect the code of behavior that is expected of you, go around acting like a vagabond and have the audacity to talk back at your superiors? This will not be tolerated!"

Gerard faced the entire assembly before him, "An example shall be set. We do not tolerate those who shirk from duty and tarnish the image of the King's Guards. This boy will be whipped in public in front of a full assembly at noon. Let this serve as a warning to all of you."

Athos and Porthos had risen up from their seats in protest but Aramis stopped them by grabbing each of their arms. "Challenge him now in front of everyone and you will be doing d'Artagnan no favor."

"Let go of me." Athos shook off the hand and turned to look of him. "I am not going to challenge that foul man, I am going to speak to the captain about this. He knows very well that d'Artagnan is not one to shirk from duty and he will not let him suffer this disgrace." There was an almost manic look of anger on Athos's face.

"Well in that case," Aramis said, standing up too. "Lead the way."

The three of them could feel all eyes on them as they made their way upstairs to Captain Treville's office. Aramis caught a glimpse of d'Artagnan, whose face remained impassive and expressionless but who followed their movements with his eyes.

"You are al dismissed. Go back to you training and assemble here at noon sharp." Gerard instructed his men, and the crowd dispersed. D'Artagnan quietly made his way to where his sword and armor were kept, receiving sympathetic glances from the other musketeers and catching a few smug looks on the other guard's faces. He had known that receiving the attentions of the three of the most elite musketeers would not sit well with a lot of people, but he hadn't realized things could get so bad.

Still he did not allow himself to panic, knowing that Athos and the others would sort out the matter with the Captain, and he would surely not have to suffer the disgrace of a public whipping.

A public whipping! Like some common criminal!

D'Artagnan took deep breathes to calm himself, loosening the tight fist he hadn't realized he had formed. No, that would surely not be allowed to happen. This was all some sort of political payback, he supposed. Because Gerard was well aware that there wasn't a single one of the guards who worked harder at their jobs than him.

He chided himself for worrying. He knew his friends would come through for him.

I know I am mean to poor d'Artagnan, but he is adorably delicious to whump. I'll update tomorrow, it's 4 in the morning here and I need to sleep.
So what do you think?