Chapter Text
Heavy footsteps stomped through dry leaves, creating a crunchy, shuffling sound that seemed to fill the whole forest as Athos raced away from the men chasing him. He’d been separated from the others, and now he had no idea where he was going. He didn't have his horse and was bleeding from his shoulder where a blade had found rest, albeit temporarily.
He was unfamiliar with this territory, so when he made a split-second decision to head left, he regretfully found himself at a dead end. In front of him was a solid rock wall. Behind him were the bandits, and on either side were large rocks and thick brambles forbidding any escape.
He turned as he heard his oppressors drawing near behind him, his back pressing against the stone as he held his wounded arm close to his chest. There were too many to fight off in his current state of being weak and weaponless.
One man dismounted, the leader in charge of the group, but really another lackey of the mastermind. The man grinned, his ugly face an even uglier mass of bruises thanks to a recent altercation with Porthos, and raised his sword to Athos' throat. "On your knees, you mangy cur."
With no other alternative, Athos did as the man ordered.
⚔
Not long after, Athos found himself with a sack pulled over his head and thrown into a cage which was then loaded onto a wagon for transport.
Someone pounded their fist against the metal bars and laughed when he flinched and bent over in pain with a low groan. "Don't worry, musketeer. If all goes well, you'll be free soon enough."
Athos listened as they set out, trying to breathe steadily as he kept an ear out for anything that would clue him in to where they were going.
⚔
At length, the wagon stilled, and the cage opened. Athos was pulled from it, his feet stumbling beneath him and his shoulder throbbing as it was jostled. He was pulled and pushed along, his query of where they were taking him only earning him a sharp blow to the back of his head that left him teetering on the edge of passing out for a brief moment.
Finally, the sack was tugged off, and Athos found himself standing in a tent, flanked by two men and facing a third that sat behind a table void of papers, a smart move on the bandits' part. The man in front of him smiled, interlocking his fingers as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "Ah, my dear musketeer. I trust your ride to my little camp was comfortable?"
Athos stared at him, eyes slightly narrowed as he debated whether or not to engage in the man's wordplay. He decided against it when the man's eye twitched at his prolonged silence. He could enjoy pushing his buttons a bit, instead.
"You must be Corvacho," Athos stated, watching with satisfaction when the skin around the man's eyes tightened just a little. So he didn't know that his name had been dropped by one of his couriers.
"And my men tell me you're Athos, the leader of the Musketeers," Corvacho responded, letting a grin grow on his face once more. "A worthy man to trade for a certain man of mine you have rotting behind your prison bars."
Athos kept his face impassive and unbothered as he realized what the man's game was, refusing to give him any satisfaction. "Fajardo shall stand trial for his crimes. No matter that you have me, my men know better than to let a murderer walk free."
"I think your men would be foolish to let a man of your skill be killed for a single man." Corvacho insisted. "Although I am surprised that we captured you so easily. Perhaps the stories I've heard of you were rather… exaggerated." He mocked.
The musketeer didn't respond to his taunt, choosing instead to remain silent. He was losing blood rather steadily now and could feel his adrenaline starting to wear off. Shock would be seeing in soon, and Athos wanted more than anything to escape the grating presence of the man before him.
When he again received no reply, Corvacho seemed to grow frustrated and growled at his men to take Athos back to his confines. The sack was placed back over his head, and as the men led him from the tent, Athos heard the mastermind call out behind him. "Have a good night, my dear musketeer! Do try not to bleed out by morning."