Honestly, this is a silly little story that is about 15k words long. At least this part is anyways... I do have plans to continue in other smaller stories.

The Captain's Office

"We have a problem," Athos stated as he and Porthos walked into their Captain's office. They stood, uneasy, in front of Treville's desk waiting for the man to acknowledge them.

Treville sighed and rubbed his temples, his frustration showing in the lines on his forehead. He wondered why all conversations with these grown men had to start out like this. In all these years captaining the Musketeers, Treville couldn't remember a time when those four words meant anything other than 'this is the end of the world'. I think we might have a problem. Aramis might be missing and/or hurt. D'Artagnan did something reckless today. Porthos cheated at cards and needs help. Athos got angry and broke something. Why couldn't they come straight out and say exactly what happened? Just how drunk was he the day he decided to allow them a commission into his elite regiment of soldiers?

He should've known when he allowed Aramis in, the youngest of his men at the time, that it was only the beginning. Then Athos showed up around the same time as Porthos and he still hadn't realized what he'd gotten himself into. The three stuck together like glue, inseparable, and even then he hadn't figured it out. It wasn't until d'Artagnan flew through the gates of the garrison that he understood. France was never going to be the same again and these four were going to be the catalyst for it.

Treville pulled his legs down from the top of his desk and sat up a little straighter. He wasn't sure if he was trying to look imposing or what, but it made him feel like he had all the authority at this moment. He was secretly elated a moment later when Athos and Porthos began fidgeting. They looked guilty, thought Treville. Very guilty.

Athos kept adjusting his belts, refusing to meet Treville's eyes, which was a clear sign something was seriously wrong. Athos, by nature, always followed orders. It was something that Treville admired in the man. So when he fiddled and fussed and looked guilty… he usually was. Beside Athos, Porthos was rocking back and forth on his feet, crossing and uncrossing his arms in obvious discomfort. The difference between Athos and Porthos, though, was that the latter met his gaze in as if it was a challenge. Porthos wasn't happy, he needed help and he needed it imminently or he was going to lose it. Treville prided himself on being able to read his men well. That was how he knew that whatever was about to come from their mouths wasn't going to be good.

"Get on with it Athos, this better be worth my time. What is the problem."

Athos adjusted his belt again, "Well Captain, you see, Aramis and d'Artagnan are our problems."

"Of course they are. Out of the four of you, those two are more often than not the problem. Did you lose them again?"

"Technically you could say we lost them, sir, but-" Athos said backing up a bit when Treville growled. "We found them shortly after, just not in the same condition we left them."

Treville frowned. If these two didn't get straight to the point soon, he was going to have a stroke. "What do you mean they are not in the same condition?"

Athos and Porthos met each other's gazes. Porthos rocked from the front of his feet to the heels, clearing his throat, "Well, see… It's like… well…"

"Spit it out Porthos!" Treville snapped.

"There was a witch and she did something to them and…" Porthos said before trailing off and shutting his mouth. He stared wildly at Athos, presumably looking for some guidance.

"Did you say a witch?" Treville asked Athos, ignoring Porthos' strange behaviour.

This was supposed to have been a simple mission escorting a group of priests to a nearby mass baptism. How on earth had these four crossed paths with a witch? Scratch that, thought Treville. Of course, these four would find a witch, trouble always seemed to find them, he had no clue why he'd think otherwise.

"Alright then, what happened to them?"

Athos turned to meet Porthos' gaze before gesturing to the closed door of Treville's office. "It would be better if we showed you."

Porthos went to the door and opened it whispering to someone before he motioned for them to come inside. While Porthos was having his hushed conversation, Treville took a moment to look a little closer at Athos. He wasn't surprised to see Athos staring right back at him with genuine fear reflected in his eyes. It was obvious that what had happened on their mission had tested Athos' resolve.

Whatever Treville expected Porthos to present to him by way of explanation, it certainly wasn't two children. They were young, one of them barely out of swaddling clothes by the looks of it. A young boy that Treville assumed was about nine years old, made his way over to Athos. Athos immediately wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder in silent support. The boy had an olive toned complexion and dark eyes that looked black in the room's lamplight. He was tall and scrawny in his ill-fitting clothes. Treville had to hold back a smirk as he realized this boy reminded him of d'Artagnan.

Beside him, holding Porthos' hand, stood a younger boy with a mass of chocolate brown curls atop his head. Treville guessed the short, little, boy was around four years old. He was wearing an over-sized man's shirt with a blue sash wrapped around his waist to secure it. The blue sash reminded Treville of a similar one that was usually wrapped around Aramis' midsection. The child seemed happy enough to be led by Porthos into the room, but the second he saw Treville he hid behind Porthos' leg.

Treville smiled fondly and knelt down so he could meet the little boy's terrified gaze. "There is nothing to be afraid of here," he said to him. When the child didn't so much as move a muscle, Treville let his gaze sweep to the older child. Something clicked in his brain at that very moment. They were the spitting image of his two missing musketeers only younger. So much younger.

"It can't be." He whispered. "… I don't understand."

Athos nodded and motioned for Treville towards his desk. "You'd best sit down, this is a rather long tale."