Athos woke groggily into semi-darkness, with brick dust clogging his nostrils; he groaned as he wiped his nose, opening his eyes and looking around. The room smelt dusty and old, shrouded in darkness- he coughed, noting the way the noise echoed deeply into the room. They seemed to be underground; probably a cellar, he reasoned. He flexed his hands, wincing as the thick rope bit into the soft flesh of his wrist. Moving his legs he felt that the same had been done to his ankles; he hit something soft and hard a little to his left. 'Aramis?' he whispered, peering around as the night crept up on them.

A deep groan told him that no, it wasn't Aramis. Porthos moved himself upwards, sniffing and moaning a little in pain. 'What…?' he muttered gruffly, looking round, alert at once. 'What's going on?'

'Not sure yet,' Athos muttered from his side, looking to his friend as Porthos turned to him with wide eyes. 'I assume we're being held captive.'

'Really?' Porthos replied, his voice with an edge to it as he looked around, trying to spot the other two- he squinted into the other side of the cellar, his eyes settling on two shadows, lying slumped by the wall.

'Aramis?' he called, wondering how loud he should raise his voice. 'D'Artagnan?'

Athos moved himself forwards, ignoring the pain in his wrists as he tried to edge towards his two friends- seconds later he sat backwards quickly, hands up as a length of rope tightened around his neck. Looking behind him he could see that they- well, he and Porthos, at least- were tethered to the brick wall behind them by large metal clips. He growled deep in his throat, before looking back to the front as they heard a groan that was definitely Aramis.

'You alright?' Porthos asked- the room was quite large, and he could barely see the two figures by the other wall.

'I'm….magnificent….' Aramis replied in a pained voice, before he massaged his head. 'Never better.'

'What about d'Artagnan?' Athos added, noting that the younger man still hadn't stirred. 'Is he ok?'

'Hang on…' Aramis muttered. He moved his hands with a grimace, his wrists erupting in pain as he looked across at the slumped form of the lad. 'd'Artagnan?' he whispered, looking him over- he had a bad bruise on his forehead, and he saw that he was still unconscious.

'Lad?' he added, prodding his fingers gently into his side to try and stir him. 'Wake up now, lad!'

He pushed his shoulder gently to try and get him to wake up, and his panic subsided a little as the Gascon finally stirred; he groaned deep in his throat, his closed eyes knitted in pain as moved his head. Aramis sat back, closing his eyes in relief.

'He's alright, Athos.' He reported back into the darkness between them. 'A bit bruised, but he'll be fine.'

Athos nodded to himself, now allowing himself to turn back to the matter at hand. 'Where are we?'

'Dunno,' Aramis replied. 'Cellar? Cave?'

'Smells like a cellar.' Porthos muttered.

'How do you know what a cellar smells like?' Aramis asked, voice light.

'Never you mind.' His friend shot back.

'Alright, so we're probably in a cellar.' Athos said, voice a little sterner. 'But why are we in a cellar?' he sighed, looking for any discernable marks or something. 'Who were those men?'

'Never seen them before,' Aramis muttered, massaging his neck as he felt bruises bloom there from the chokehold he had been subjected to. 'Porthos?'

'What?'

'Did you know them?'

'Oh, so just because I lived here before, I must automatically know everyone round here, do I?'

'A simple no would have sufficed, my friend.'

'Can you two just be serious for one second?' Athos growled, before they all stopped and listened as they heard heavy footfalls above them. 'Just let me do the talking.' He added, before the door creaked open, throwing orange light into the room. Athos looked round properly for the first time- Aramis and d'Artagnan were also tethered at the necks, and he felt a thrill of anger as he saw Aramis had bruising all around his neck, as well as dried blood caking from a wound to his head. The younger lad was still lying on the ground, so he couldn't see him as well.

He looked back up at the trio of men who had now come into the room- each had a candle in their hands, as well as a blade in there other.

'What do you want?' he asked, eyes dark. 'Why have you done this?'

'Shut up,' one of the men growled, shoving the candle near his face as he peered into it, as if scrutinising. 'It can't be this one.' He muttered, before standing back up.

'Check the others.' The man beside him grunted, before they moved across to Porthos.

'Tell me what you want!' Athos growled as darkness once more shrouded him as the light of the candles moved away. 'We are Musketeers- our Captain knows we are missing!' he added, hoping to scare them a little.

'If I have to tell you to shut up-' the man from before threatened as he came forwards again, brandishing his knife. 'one more time- you're going to regret it!'

Porthos poised himself as the men came near, but almost as soon as they did a knife was pressed to his throat. 'Don't get any ideas, biggun!' One of the smaller men growled, before the other two once again peered at him. 'No, not him- can't be.'

'You better have got this right!' the man who had threatened Athos warned, eyes dark as he turned to the other man. 'He won't be happy if we've got this wrong!'

'Relax,' the man placated as he looked across at Aramis and the slumped d'Artagnan. 'It's got to be one of them.'

Aramis sat up against the cold wall as the men came near, before looking down to d'Artagnan, who was just beginning to stir by his feet. He reached over and grasped his shoulder, gently pulling the lad upwards, little by little, before he was lying next to him, his eyes finally staying open as the men got to their sides. He wanted to make sure he was near enough to protect him, should the worst happen.

He stayed silent as the men looked them both over. 'Hmm…' the man muttered, a hint of panic in his voice. 'It could be either of them.'

'Only one way to find out…' the man snapped, before kicking the sole of Aramis' boot. 'What's your name?'

Aramis stayed silent, his eyes boring into the other man's. 'I said-'the man growled, kicking his boot harder. 'What's your name?!'

'Why should I tell you?' Aramis growled, feeling anger in his stomach.

'You should answer me, if you know what's good for you!'

'Really?' Aramis scoffed. 'I don't think so.'

'Hear him? He says he doesn't think he should tell us!' the man jeered to his two friends. 'Well, perhaps your friend will be more forthcoming…' Aramis looked down at D'artagnan, who was now fully awake and beginning to sit up slowly.

'Touch one hair on his head and you'll wish you'd never been born.' Aramis growled, fingers curling around d'Artagnan's shoulder, into the material of his coat.

'Really?' the man grinned, voice dark as he leaned in. 'I don't think so.' He added, before taking out his knife and, in one motion, cutting the thick length of rope that had bound the younger man to the wall.

'I mean it!' Aramis yelled, growling as his fingers were ripped from the Gascon's coat. 'Leave him be!' He didn't dare use his name, given how for some reason their names were somewhat important to these men. 'Touch him and you'll regret it!'

'Tell us your name then!'

'Why do you want to know?' he replied, eyes widening as d'Aartagnan was roughly pushed to the ground- seconds later he heard a muffled groan as he was kicked in the stomach.

'Leave him!' he shouted, his voice now joined by Athos and Porthos as the three men continued to pummel the younger man with their feet.

'Tell us what we want to know, and we will!' the man shouted, before the door banged open once more. They all fell silent as a large figure stood in the doorway.

'What are you doing?' the figure asked, voice barely more than a whisper as he stepped into the room.

'We were trying to get this one to tell us his name and-'

'Pick this man up and tie him up again.'

'But-'

'You dare question me?'

'No, sir.' The men shook their heads, before dragging a coughing d'Aartagnan back to Aramis, who gently positioned him next to him, eyes full of concern as the younger man got into a better position to defend himself. He looked up as the man came into better view- He was large and muscly, with wavy black hair and dark eyes- he didn't know him at all. He had a scar on his cheek, like someone had tried to make a drawing on his cheek. There was no recognition there, though- it infuriated him.

'So,' the man said, an air of authority to his voice that made the hairs on the back of Aramis' neck stand on end- his fingers laced around d'Artagnan's sleeve once more as the man knelt in front of them both. Athos was speaking, demanding to know what was going on, but the man ignored him in favour of looking intently at Aramis, a light smile on his face. 'Remember me?'

'I've never seen you before.' Aramis growled, a challenge to his voice. 'And I never forget a face.'

The man chuckled, nodding his head a little. 'Me neither.' He replied, his voice dark as he stood back up. 'I would have thought you'd know me- what about you, Porthos?' he said, turning to the bigger man.

Aramis' eyes snapped round to look at his friend- Porthos squinted in the poor light, before they widened as recognition stirred. 'Allard?' he growled, now straining against his bonds. 'Allard Laurent?'

'Very good- it has been many years since we last saw each other, down here in the Court.' Allard smiled.

'Thought you'd been killed years ago.'

'Wishful thinking, I'm sure- but alas, I am alive and well. I've been keeping a low profile, biding my time.'

'Until when?' Athos growled- he didn't recognise this man, either, but by the way Porthos had reacted, he knew it couldn't be good.

'Well, now.' Allard grinned. 'This city needs me- my work has already begun to clean up the scum that lays upon it.'

Aramis looked around, confusion saturating him, but before he could speak Allard was already onto a new sentence. 'But that is not why I'm here. I am here to clean up some business of my own.' He turned to the room at large. 'One of you must pay for a crime you've committed against me.'

'We've never even seen you before!' d'Artagnan muttered. 'How could we commit a crime against you?'

'I'm glad you asked.' Allard smiled. He turned to one of the men- 'Bring her in.'

They all turned as one of them sauntered from the room, slamming the door behind them.

Allard paced the room slowly, looking from each man to the other. 'When I left the Court, it was a harmonious place.' He started, his voice low. 'Poverty struck, chaotic and unruly- but Harmonious. Everyone knew their place. Everyone got along….' He stopped to sigh dramatically. 'But now- there is no order. No rules. Everyone sings to a different hymn book, drinks from a different stream. Everyone has a faction, a leader. This isn't how it was supposed to be!'

'It's the way its always been!' Porthos growled. He and Allard had known each other from when they were children, but Allard had moved from the Court when he'd turned sixteen and he'd never seen or heard from him again.

'We should be united under one leader!' Allard snapped back, eyes dark. 'Someone who knows what they're doing, someone with strong leadership skills.'

'And I bet you're going to say "someone like me", aren't you?' Athos sighed. 'We've heard it all before.'

'Perhaps you have.' Allard shrugged, now starting to pace. 'But this is for another moment- I have business with you men.' He looked at each of them in turn, yet frustratingly offered nothing more.

'What's this about?' Athos muttered, panic rising in his chest, as well as anger at being in this situation with no sort of explanation. 'I demand you tell us!'

Allard chuckled darkly, pulling something from the breast pocket of his jacket. He unravelled it and let the material hang loose from his fingers. Aramis recognised it at once, his heart almost stopping.

'What's that?' Porthos asked, voice confused.

'I was hoping one of your friends would tell me.' Allard muttered conversationally, eyebrows raised. His voice darkened as he looked around. 'You-' he pointed at D'artagnan. 'Name.'

The younger man said nothing, deciding to follow Aramis' lead.

'Alright-' Allard said, before taking a pistol from inside his coat and pointing it at Athos. 'Name?'

'Wait, don't shoot!' the younger man said, eyes wide. 'D'artgnan.' He growled, relief surging as the gun was lowered.

'That wasn't so hard, was it?' Allard muttered, before looking across to Porthos. 'I have no quarrel with you.' He added, before looking to Aramis.

'You- name.'

Aramis knew why he was asking, and he felt bile rise to his throat as he opened his mouth. 'Aramis.' He muttered, before his heart sank as he realised who still had to answer his name, and what that could mean for Athos.

'Wait, I-' he started, but Allard soon had his gun trained on him.

'Now, you-' he growled, turning to Athos. 'What's your name?'

'What's this about?' Athos spat, struggling in his restraints.

'Tell me your name or he dies!'

'It's Athos!' the man spat, shaking his head. 'Happy now?'

Allard stood back, a small smile on his face. 'Not really.' He growled, fingers laced on the handkerchief with the embroidered gold 'A' on show.

'Well…' he said, his voice dark and barely more than a whisper as he looked from Aramis to Athos. 'It looks like we might have a little problem, gentlemen.' He stepped closer to Aramis, gun still aimed at his head as he knelt down. 'But don't worry,' he whispered, looking intently at him for a few seconds before standing up and turning to Athos.

'I'm sure I'll figure out a solution…'

Uh oh, now Athos and Aramis are both in trouble- find out what happens in the next chapter!

Thanks for reading, please review!