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d'Artagnan.
A low moan erupts from my dry lips, my head hammering furiously and my eyes stuck together with thick grit.
Wincing slightly I force my eyes open slowly, sucking in deep breaths as my stomach flips and bile bubbles at the back of my throat.
"d'Artagnan?" A whispered voice questions from across the room.
I frown slightly, panic flushing over me as I realize how dark the room is. For a few agonizing seconds I believe I've been blinded.
"d'Artagnan?" The voice calls again, more harshly this time. "d'Artagnan?"
"Captain?" I croak, frowning again as I force my swaying body to sit up, the low scraping of metal chains dragging against the stone floor causing my heart to beat a little faster.
"Oh, thank God." Treville breathes from across the room, a similar sound of shifting chains flickering from the shadows. "How do you feel?"
I swallow thickly, wetting my shredded lips. "Like I went drinking with Athos." I reply hoarsely, earning myself the rare pleasure of causing our stone cold Captain to laugh.
"What happened?" I ask eventually, trying desperately to make sense of the pitch black room surrounding me.
"We were attacked on a patrol with his Majesty." Treville fills in, memories beginning to flicker through the darkness and I nod slowly.
"The king?" I ask quietly.
"Here." Comes another voice from the far corner. "I'm here."
I let out a heavy sigh, shifting my hands in my manacles. "Where are we now?"
"We don't know." Louis replies, his voice shaking slightly and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "This is all your fault!"
Silence ensues, neither the Captain or I trusting ourselves to speak. I find myself almost choking on my own tongue.
"Athos, Porthos and Aramis will find us." I reply strongly, sounding more sure than I feel. "They'll find us."
The king let's out a low mewl of distaste and I bite my lip.
"You should rest your Majesty." Treville offers. "We shall keep watch."
"Not that there's much to watch." I mutter dryly, suddenly feeling the Captain's warning gaze through the gloom.
The king let's out a frustrated sigh before his breathing finally evens out and he slips into sleep.
"Spanish?" I ask quietly, once he begins to snore softly.
"I believe so." Treville replies gently, the dread positioned deep within his voice and I nod.
Silence passes incredibly slowly, leaving my mind to wander slightly.
"Get some rest, d'Artagnan." The Captain says. "I'll wake you if anything happens."
Reluctantly I give in, the pain in my head peaking slightly the second I close my eyes, tipping me off the edge and into blissful unconsciousness before I even realize.
............................................................................
Treville.
I smile softly as I listen to the gently harmony of snoring drifting from across the room. Distracting myself from the worry that's beginning to overwhelm me for both the King and our Gascon.
The worry only gets worse as my mind drifts to Athos, Porthos and Aramis.
No doubt, Athos will blame himself and drown in endless bottles of wine.
Aramis will most likely become reckless with both his soldiering and womanizing.
Porthos will try and hold them together, searching for their 'pup' as he witnesses his best friends falling apart around him, until it leads him to self-destruct and gives him a suicidal lack of control that will lead the three of them towards the hangman's noose.
I heave a deep breath, rolling my head against the wall and gazing up at nothingness.
It's so painfully dark.
The fear of not being able to see anything or anyone begins clawing at my imagination savagely, raising my heart rate to worrying levels.
Heavy foot falls cause me to start.
Smacking my head weakly against the slippery and cold wall.
I erupt into a flurry of curses, rousing d'Artagnan instantly whilst merely disturbing the grumbling King.
Suddenly the door swings open, slamming against the wall loudly as impossibly bright lights explode to my left.
I wince, groaning and rolling over slightly.
"Well, well, well gentlemen!" A low nasally voice calls across the cell, the Spanish accent slipping through his French. "Are we all awake now, yes?"
I snarl at the man, d'Artagnan glaring sturdily from the other side of the room, a deep red smear of blood coating his awfully pale forehead.
I wince.
The man ignores our warning glates and strolls casually over to the now petrified king, who's shivering like a small child, eyes wide like windows of fear and hands wrapped protectively around his knees.
"And who do we have here?" The man questions sweetly, crouching down before his majesty and tilting his head.
"Henri, our stable hand." d'Artagnan remarks dryly, giving a nonchalant shrug.
I pause, meeting the gascons gaze before willing the king to remain silent.
The man spins around slowly and the balls of his heels, licking his lips like a cheshire cat. "And who, may I ask, are you?" He asks quietly, menacingly scooting closer.
"d'Artagnan." He replies quippedly, as if they were merely discussing the weather.
"Pleasure to meet you, d'Artagnan." The man drawls, scooting even closer to the gascon. "Now tell me...who's in charge out of you three, eh?"
I open my mouth to announce my title when suddenly the king jumps in.
"d'Artagnan is!" He blurts out, d'Artagnan barely even flinching at his sudden betrayal.
"Very well." The man says, staring intently at d'Artagnan. "Is this true?"
d'Artagnan nods slightly, barely managing to open his mouth when suddenly the man grips a fistful of his hair, causing the boy to hiss in pain.
"Very good." The man grins wickedly before gesturing for the other men stood outside to enter.
I fight pathetically against my bonds as the man slams d'Artagnan's head against the wall, knocking him momentarily into a state of stupor as his eyes roll back into his head, allowing the other men to unchain him before yanking him from the room.
"d'Artagnan!" I yell, pulling relentlessly against my manacles as they drag him from the room, his boots scuffling against the floor.
The first man stops by the door, and turns to face me, his cold green eyes holding mine defiantly.
"Sorry to have been so rude, Monsieur." He smiles fakely, cocking his head to the side slightly. "I'm Bernard, pleased to meet you." He extends his hand slightly.
I glare up at him before spitting a thick ball of phlegm onto his grimy hand.
Bernard pulls away in disgust, withdrawing a frayed handkerchief and wiping at the splatter of spit on his palm.
"Your friend will pay for your ill manners, monsieur." He spits before storming from the cell and slamming the door closed, bathing the room in endless night once more.
I turn to face the king.
"How dare you condemn d'Artagnan like that!" I snarl. "It should be me facing the interrogation, not him! He's barely reached the age of 20, sire! If not that!"
The king let's out a quivering whimper.
"I...need...you Treville..." He replies with a trembling voice, the sudden lack of confidence draining from the man suddenly as the footsteps fade away and he reminds himself of who he is.
"You will pay for that outburst Treville!" He all but shrieks. "I am your Ki-!"
"Sire!" I cut across him. "They cannot know who you are!" I whisper harshly.
And the king falls silent, folding his arms like a petulant child through the gloom.
The sudden eruption of jeering laughter and the sickly sound of leather meeting skin causes us both to jump.
I wince with every sound, tears threatening in my eyes as d'Artagnan's mournful cries follow later.
"Athos!" He cries, his voice patched with low sobs. "Aramis! Porthos!"
The King's shivering in the corner, rocking silently back and forth with his hands over his ears.
The torture continues for two hours, until finally d'Artagnan is tossed back into the cell.
"d'Artagnan!" I cry, surging towards the shape of the limp figure lying close to the door.
I try desperately to reach him, growling with anguish as my chains prevent me from touching the boy.
"S'fine...c'ptain..." d'Artagnan manages with a wobbly voice. "'Ad worse..."
I can't find the words to reply and instead listening silently as he slips off to sleep. The feeling of powerlessness and guilt wracking my exhausted body.
Until finally, I too, give in to sleep.
.............................................................................
Louis.
The heavy burden of guilt only grows each day as I begin to take a huge liking to d'Artagnan.
His sense of humour and sharp, finely tuned wit as well as his brutal honesty towards me has earned him a rather high position in my heart.
He talks of his missions and his disasters with his three best friends, tending to barely finish the story due to breaking down into laughter.
Every so often he falls silent, whimpers in his sleep or blacks out entirely mid way during a conversation, and eventually I come to realize that Treville and him both giving me their water and food supplies is no longer fair.
We get by, and according to Treville we've been here for five days. Yet d'Artagnan keeps renewing our hope of escape with reassurance of his brothers integrity and skill.
Eventually, however, even he is losing the upbeat tone in his voice, choking out ragged coughs with each breath which is a little too sudden.
I cannot deny my sever concern for the boy.
Gradually day by day he begins talking less, crying out more each time he's taken away, which so far has only been three times, thank God.
Today however, is different.
When d'Artagnan is flung back into the cell, Bernard, the traitor, steps in afterwards.
"You shall go free." He says simply as two other men approach us and remove our manacles.
I bite my lip to stop the tears as they pull away to reveal heavily bruised and raw wrists.
The Captain is at his feet already, helping d'Artagnan up from the damp floor.
The boy manages to get to his feet, and brushes Treville off, clutching a newly acquired black cloak around his body, which makes my stomach gurgle with jealousy.
I am the king after all!
Why should d'Artagnan receive better treatment and own a cloak to keep his body warm?!
I shake my head angrily and approach the two men.
Biting my tongue as I notice how pale the boy now is.
"Why the change of heart, Bernard?" Treville snarls, pulling his face up closely to the sneering little man before us.
"d'Artagnan made a bet." Bernard says, his gaze directed at the boy himself. "And he won."
And with those words we're forced brutally from out cells and out through the various cellars which have kept us hostage, and into the dazzling morning light.
Without looking back we trudge forwards, baring nothing but the filthy clothes we arrived in...
...and d'Artagnan's new cloak.
I scowl down at my tattered hunting clothes, cursing within my mind as I realize that I must appear like a measly peasant.
I snort.
A peasant.
We walk steadily for hours, Treville and d'Artagnan continually reminding me that we must put as much distance as possible between is, rudely ignoring me as I implore we have the men all executed once we've returned to Paris.
We're stumbling through dark dense forest, not far from one of the main roads to Paris when d'Artagnan suddenly collapses.
With the agility and elegance of no less that a deer, Treville swoops his arms under d'Artagnan's armpits and holds the boy up as his head lolls weakly from side to side.
"Easy,easy." He murmurs, as he gently lowers him to the floor.
I crouch nervously beside him, watching with an odd feeling of wonder as the boy tries desperately to keep his eyes open, listening intently to each and every word that falls from Trevilles mouth.
Swiftly Treville unbuttons d'Artagnan's cloak, sending me reeling back at the stench of blood and thick infection explodes from beneath it.
I gasp, heaving slightly as my eyes settle on the boys bloodied white shirt.
Treville curses loudly, tearing the shirt away and revealing the butchered flesh beneath. Countless burns, laceration marks and bruises paint the young man's torso in an array of multiple colors; shades of furious red and vibrant purple...some even green and yellow around the edges, hide the olive skin beneath.
"What have you done, lad?" Treville whispers. "Hey? What did he make you do?"
There's something in the way Treville voice increases in pitch which mimics that of a father talking to his child, that causes my heart to heat up a little.
d'Artagnan moans weakly in response. "Don't...cry...out...and...they..." Before he can finish his explanation his eyes roll into the back of his skull and his body goes limp.
Treville mutters something under his breath.
"Is there anything I can do?" I ask quietly, my eyes still transfixed on the boys brightly colored flesh.
Treville drops back on his haunches and shakes his head weakly, despair pooling into his eyes.
"I demand you live d'Artagnan!" I snap at the unconscious figure before me. "You hear me!?"
But he doesn't.
Treville does his best, soothing the boy and keeping him warm.
Hope is all but gone by morning, until the thundering of multiple hooves shred the morning silence, sends our hearts into our throats.
Skirting from the trees, Treville and I both dash to the road, leaving d'Artagnan momentarily alone.
I almost scream with relief as my eyes fix on numerous men on horses approaching us, with the Fleur de lis positioned proudly on their shoulders.
My smile grows wider as Athos, Aramis and Porthos all appear from that very crowd of eight men.
The three jump from their horses, greeting their Captain with uncensored relief.
Several other men join my side, asking me questions and offering me their cloaks.
"d'Artagnan?" Athos asks Treville instantly, his eyes growing wider as the Captain's face darkens.
"Come with me." He beckons and I push away from the crowd, inevitably unwelcome in their little reunion, yet still I must ensure d'Artagnan lives.
I wince as we approach d'Artagnan's body, dreading their reactions.
The three men surge forwards, Aramis clamping automatically on the boys hand as the others latch on to any unbruised limb possible.
"What happened?!" Athos grinds out, his eyes filled to the brim with raw anger as he turns to face us both.
Treville places a hand on Athos' shoulder and the man slumps forwards, turning back to his protégé.
I shudder slightly as the morning sun catches the thin sheen of sweat lacing the young man's brow, his face gaunt and pale.
A few moments pass silently and my mind drifts off slightly.
I yelp as Porthos roars at the sight of their little brothers torso, cowering as he jumps to his feet, slamming his bare like fists against the trunk of a particularly large tree.
I watch on worthlessly.
The men set up camp along the roadside. They pitch a tent for me and another for d'Artagnan and Treville.
I smile to myself as I watch Aramis tend to d'Artagnan as Athos rakes through the boys hair, Porthos stood over them all protectively, before I decide to retire to my room.
Treville reassured me that d'Artagnan wounds, although painful were not life threatening in anyway. He was suffering from a mild fever, hence the reason he collapsed, and was expected to make a full recovery in no time. He later added that d'Artagnan had survived being shot in the past, and this was nothing in comparison.
The reasons for our capture and d'Artagnan's torture remain blissfully unknown, with the only comfort being that they didn't mean d'Artagnan too much harm and sought out no information.
Closing my eyes softly I relax into the pillows, reveling in the comfort of a clean bed...
...and a new cloak. .............................................................................