I am still a bit shocked at the lovely feedback, thank you everyone for your support!

This will probably be my last update this week as I'm off for competitions again on Friday (Icelandic horses this time!), but I'll try to work hard and get chapter 4 up ASAP. Life is just a little bit busy at the moment. I do apologize and will strive to update more frequently. I have however sorted out the story and summarized each chapter for myself (still happily accept prompts though!) and this should be somewhere between 15-18 chapters long. So there's plenty more whump and angst and comfort and sorrow to come!

Chapter 3

It was about a four-hour ride to the lands of La Fére. The trio had been talking all the way, discussing strategic and how to proceed in different situations, but as they came closer to the manor where they had tended to Porthos during their first and last visit to the lands, they all grew silent.

They all knew it had burned down to the ground. The once so beautiful house had been burned to nothing but ashes at the hands of Anne de Breuil, Athos' wife, also known as Milady de Winter. She had gone back to the manor that she once called home, with the intentions of burning down her past. The fact that Athos had been there for the first time in five years, drunk to oblivion, stumbling into her during the act, had just been a lucky strike - for her. Not so much for Athos.

Athos' lucky strike had been d'Artagnan backtracking in worry, after nagging Aramis so much about it that the older soldier had finally given in. "If it means I don't have to listen to you, then by all means go. I hope someone rips out your tongue. But you have to take the blame when Athos becomes angry with you due to you denying a direct order."

Maybe needless to say, Athos had not been angry, as d'Artagnan had dragged Athos out of the inferno. They had been sprawled out on the grass outside the manor, watching it as the flames ate it, piece by piece. D'Artagnan had offered to go and get help, with enough people they might be able to stop the fire, but Athos had told him just to let it burn. It was for the best. It had become a haunted house of his nightmares, and it made no one happy anymore. It was better off as dust in the ground.

It had attracted attention though, the smoke rising above the trees, the smell spreading through the forest and town, was not to go unnoticed. People had been coming by as Athos and d'Artagnan had been on the grass outside, and Athos had told them too to just let it burn. It would be dealt with accordingly later on. One of the elderly women, who Athos definitely seemed to know, and seemed very fond of, welcomed them into her guestroom where they could clean off and spend the night before returning to Paris.

They rode at first light, and at their arrival, Athos had asked d'Artagnan not to tell the others about what happened, and d'Artagnan gave his word. One of the main reasons to why he could make that promise, was because he knew Athos would tell them himself one day. He would just have to wait it out. D'Artagnan looked over at Aramis and Porthos, and his mind wandered back to when they had been told about what actually happened that day.

Bonnaire had been dealt with as they seemed fit, and when Paul Meunier had departed the taproom, it had left the four of them alone by the table. They had sat in silence for about 30 seconds before Aramis couldn't hold it back any longer.

"So, what happened?"

Athos looked up at him with a frown, he had known since his return that both Aramis and Porthos had realized something was wrong, but he really did not feel like talking about it. Mostly because he wasn't sure that he would actually be able to talk about it without his emotions taking control of him.

Aramis and Porthos glanced over at d'Artagnan, but from the look on his face they knew they would not get anything out of him. His absolute loyalty to Athos would not reveal anything of what had happened. Athos, on the other hand, looked like he was contemplation weather or not to literally drown himself into his cup.

"Okay, not here. My place?" Aramis offered, and Athos gave a quick shrug. He really did not want to talk through it, but he knew it would be the best thing to do. Both for their sake and for his own sanity. Mostly for them. He didn't care much about his sanity anymore, but he did owe it to his brothers to let them know what had happened. Especially if Anne was in Paris, then for their safety they deserved to know. If she came around trying to hurt anyone…

Athos stopped that thought right there. He didn't want to think about it. He wanted her gone. Why was she back? What did she want?

Athos almost felt like laughing, because he knew that answer instantly. She was looking for revenge, he was downright certain of it.

Porthos grabbed a few bottles of fine brandy from the bar, before the four of them retreated to Aramis' lodgings by the garrison. They all sat down by the small table in his room, and Aramis served them all from the bottles. Then they waited. They knew they needed to let Athos take his time, pressuring him would not help at all.

Athos heaved two cups before he broke the silence.

"You know I was once married." He begun, using all of his mental strength to keep his voice steady. He looked up and met the eyes of Aramis and Porthos, and both of them nodded in silence. "And I told you that she died. Apparently, I was mistaken, because she is very much alive, and just as d'Artagnan arrived back to the manor, she held a knife to my throat."

Aramis gasped quietly – he had known something had happened, but Athos' dead wife trying to kill him? No, he had not expected that.

"She set the house on fire, and I had been drinking a bit excessively, even for me. She hit me over the head with a torch, and then pulled a knife at me. If d'Artagnan had not arrived when he had, she would've either slit my throat – or left me to burn with the house."

He finished by drowning another cup, refilling it. It took a long while before Aramis dared to speak.

"How did she know you would be in the house? It was not like it was our plan from the beginning to stop there."

"I do not think she knew I was there. When we walked into each other, she seemed just as shocked as I was to see her. Well, maybe not just as shocked, because I was certain I was dreaming it all. I honestly believed her dead."

"She survived." Porthos muttered. "How?"

"It appears that she seduced Remy, my good friend who helped with her execution. He cut her down after I left – I could not watch her die." Athos gulped, his words getting stuck in his throat as he swallowed hard, closing his eyes. "Remy is dead. I went to see him during our visit, and found him dead. Anne revealed in the manor that she killed him."

A hand was placed into Athos', and he looked up to see Aramis leaning over the table, squeezing his hand.

"I'm sorry my friend, I truly am. You do not deserve all of this."

Athos didn't have an answer for that, and he couldn't stand to see the love in Aramis' eyes, so he let his gaze fall back down into the cup in front of him. Everything had just come crumbling down the last couple of days. Porthos. The manor. Memories. Thomas. Remy. Anne. He wasn't sure how to deal with it all, and he felt a wave of overwhelming guilt and grief hit him. He wanted out, he didn't want the others to see him break down, but he could feel the massive lump in his throat searching it's way up. He swallowed, over and over trying to force it down, trying to keep his focus, but he felt like he was choking. And he wasn't sure how to deal with that, all he could think of was just how much he wanted to get out. To cry himself to sleep, drunk in an alley somewhere. He didn't deserve more than that. He had sentenced the woman he loved to death, and she had somehow resurrected. All of his nightmares that had been clouded for five years time with her dying were suddenly before his eyes. The noose. The flowers, the white dress, her black hair. And her piercing eyes. Her eyes that shone of utter betrayal. He was her husband. She was his wife. He sent her to the noose. And then he left.

And now he was certain that the pieces of his heart were trying to make their way up his throat, because he could not breathe. He didn't want to loose control of his emotions, because control was what had kept him somewhat sane the last five years, and control was all he had left in him to ground him. If he let go of that… But the lump in his throat was making his world sway in blinding white flashes, and he had to get out.

Panic took hold of his senses, and he threw himself up, the movement so fast it caused the chair to fly backwards, hitting the floor loudly. And then Athos moved, all of his intentions being to flee the room before the others had any chance of getting to him, but he didn't make it that far. He skidded to a stop right outside of Aramis' door as two strong hands grabbed onto his shoulders, halting his flight.

Athos bent over and heaved, his stomach rolling angrily.

He could feel a hand at the nape of his neck, and another one doing circles on his back. He closed his eyes as his stomach recoiled the small amounts of food he had eaten, and the intense amount of alcohol he had devoured. It felt like an eternity before the heaving stopped, and then he was being led back inside, pushed down on something soft. He lay down on the bed, and pressed his eyes closed as tears made their way out by the corners, tears of guilt, grief, pain, exhaustion and every other feeling that could possible be. Everything came crashing down at once, and he rolled over to his side and curled himself into a ball, the massive lump in his throat forcing its way up with a loud cry of emotional pain.

And then he cried. He wept freely, allowing every emotion that's been held onto for so long to escape past his lips and eyes, and he could feel himself trembling in the bed, losing all control he held so dear, breaking down completely. He was barely aware of the fact that something soft was draped over him, before a body climbed up behind him, wrapping big arms around him, pulling him back towards a wide chest. Porthos.

Someone sat down in the bed, in front of him. A hand in his hair, gentle fingers massaging his scalp, before finding the burn Anne had left him by the temple. The fingers disappeared for a moment, Aramis' soft voice was heard before a cold cloth was pressed to the side of his face, gently cleaning the wound. A paste was smeared onto it, before the hand was once again in his hair. Aramis.

In retrospect, Athos would not be able to say just how long they stayed like that. He only remembered glimpses and short moments of being hugged tightly with Porthos' voice mumbling in his ear, Aramis gentle hands in his hair, d'Artagnan bring water to his lips for him to drink.

For a moment Athos was afraid that he would never see an end to the tears, but as the night was just beginning to turn into dawn, he fell into an exhausted sleep, the fatigue finally winning the fight against his demons. The demons didn't go very far though, because his nightmares shook them all awake just a few hours later. Once again Athos was crying, Porthos hugging him close as Aramis was in front of him, cupping his face and whispering calming words in Spanish.

When Athos woke fully in the morning, after another nightmare, first thing he did was throwing himself across Aramis to vomit on the floor instead of in the bed that held the three of them. Porthos was awake in an instant, pulling Athos up into sitting position, allowing Aramis to breathe again. D'Artagnan was there straight away with a cup of water, which Athos drowned in one go, before d'Artagnan begun cleaning the floor.

Athos sat straighter up in the bed, leaning back against Porthos, his head resting towards the wide shoulder. He realized he was in his linens and smalls, his friends must've wriggled him out of his leather and weapons as he slept.

Athos took a deep breath, searching inside of him but finding nothing but emptiness. For five years he had believed the woman of his life and dreams to be dead, but now she wasn't. And she was looking for vengeance. She wanted him dead, and he had a feeling she would go far to see that through. He was just worried about how far. Would she attack him? Would she attack any of the others? Was she working alone? Would she hire someone to dispose of them? When did she return to Paris? Where had she been hiding the last five years? Who was her patron? He had so many questions, and very few answers.

A hand on his forehead made him flinch, before he looked up and saw Aramis' worried eyes.

"You're warm, my friend."

Athos was not surprised, he felt worse for wear, completely drained both emotionally and physically. His emotions were probably making him sick, and he was not surprised. He had heard that you could actually die from heartache, and he believed it.

A cup was brought to his lips, and he wriggled his nose against the smell.

"Please drink Athos. It's good for you."

Athos was never one to say no to Aramis, especially not when the man actually begged him to drink. The taste was not to his liking, but he did drown the entire cup just to see the worried man in front of him smile, and Athos couldn't help but to smile back at Aramis. Dieu, when Aramis smiled… Athos would give him all of his lands and riches just to see him smile. And he suddenly realized he would be okay. Because no matter how much heartache he had gone through, and no matter how much more was thrown at him, he would make it through because he had brothers at his side, and he knew they would stand beside him.

D'Artagnan was shaken back to reality as Buttercup stepped out of the trees and out onto the big open field where the manor had burned. D'Artagnan had remembered there being a small stable and guesthouse not to far behind the massive building, and that's where they had been heading, figuring they could find shelter for the night. It wasn't late yet, but they were coming to the end of the year and the hours of sunlight were few. They had left the garrison after being force-fed lunch by Serge, and now dusk was already settling outside, along with the cold. Luckily there had been no sights of snow yet.

But none of them were thinking of the weather at his precise moment. Because when they rode out of the woods they had expected an empty field, and a stable and guesthouse near the tree line across the field. They were not expecting to ride up to the manor, because they all knew it had burned.

What they didn't know, was that it had been rebuilt.

Because in front of them were another manor, just as majestic and impressive as the old one. It was pretty similar in size to what it had been except there seemed to be an extra floor added to the top of it, and it looked light, open and fresh. It looked welcoming. The trio were all stunned, they had no idea Athos had let rebuild the house, and he had never mentioned it. But here it was. Grand, monumental and inviting. The trio couldn't help but to ride down closer to it, and that's when Aramis found a sign, standing proud with letter carved into the wood.

"All travellers are welcome to seek shelter on the lands of La Fére, and if the woods are too cold, the doors of the manor stand open." Aramis read, a big grin spread on his face as he realized what Athos had done. The lands of La Fére were travelled often as it was along the route between Paris and La Havre, but considering how close it was to Paris, very few people stopped here. That was also the reason to why there didn't seem to be an inn anywhere nearby. So travellers that were in need of rest, as they had been themselves last time they were here, now had a place to seek shelter when in need.

The men couldn't help but to smile to each other, all of them thinking the same thing. Athos was never one to flaunt his riches or status, but he sure was taking care of it as any nobleman would.

"Well, since Athos built this for travellers, I assume the only right thing to do is use it?" Aramis spoke, the others nodding their agreement as they rode around the back where they found a stable. The boxes were empty, but there was a big barn full of straw and bags of oats, buckets piled, ready to be filled with water. The trio all helped with sorting everything out for their horses, before they grabbed their saddlebags and weapons and walked over to the manor, entering by the front door, which was indeed, unlocked.

Last time they were here, the old manor had been dark and dusty, and it had been an eerie silence over it. This place was nothing but welcoming. The windows were grand and let in a lot of light, the furniture new and soft, still covered in sheets but that was most likely only to save it as it was not being used frequently. Paintings were hanging from the walls, but not ripped by swords, and none of them resembled Athos. A big pile of dry wood was close to the hearth in what looked to be the main living room, and Porthos immediately started a fire, the early signs of winter coming was already creeping up on them.

After all three of them had taken a walk through the house, impressed by the amazing architecture and artwork in roofs and hanging off the walls, the trio settled in the living room. They had found wine down in the cellar and glasses in the kitchen. Sitting down by the big table, close enough to the hearth where a fire was now burning, heat radiating through the house, Aramis poured them all a glass as Porthos dealt the deck of cards. They all played for a while, not playing with money because they knew all of them would be cheating anyway.

"So what do you think happened?" D'Artagnan suddenly asked. The question had been gnawing at him for a while, but he hadn't found the right moment to ask.

"To Athos? He said there was an ambush, and since he had been told about the raiders here I suppose he did indeed return here but wasn't able to handle the raiders by himself." Aramis answered, sipping from his wine.

"By mornin' we should go to the town and talk to some people about what's been goin' on 'ere." Porthos said, and the others agreed with a nod.

"Hopefully someone saw Athos as he was here." D'Artagnan mused. "Maybe someone can explain to what we are dealing with. What do the raiders want if they return? They were here first, then Athos rode here, and got attacked. I take it, they never left or they returned back. Thieves looking for wealth often don't return to the same place twice."

"So what you are thinking is that maybe they were not after riches, but after Athos?" Aramis said, an eyebrow raised as he realized where the youngster were taking his thoughts.

D'Artagnan didn't need to answer, the look in his eyes told the others everything.

"Athos has enemies, every person who has power will have enemies. We just need to find out who they are, and why they have decided to go after Athos after such a long time." Aramis added, in the same time as he placed a winning hand of five kings on the table.

Porthos looked over at Aramis' cards and sighed. And there was the obvious reason to why Aramis never hustled. He was so painfully terrible at it. But considering he himself had three kings up his sleeve it was not worth discussing the matter right now.

"Sounds easy enough." Porthos said, collecting all the cards again and shuffled them thoroughly, handing out another game.

"Piece of cake." D'Artagnan added, rolling his eyes.

They all fell silent, as a growing feeling was spreading through all of them that this would not be such an easy game to play after all.