Authors note: This story was inspired by five of the Whumptober prompts I wrote, so you may recognise bits and pieces here and there, as I've retold the prompts within this piece.

The story is finished, I intend to upload a chapter a day (subject to real life getting in the way). And I work shifts, so it won't be the same time each day. Sorry.

It's mainly d'Artagnan and Athos whump, but both Porthos and Aramis have a bit of an angsty time of it with issues of their own.

Prologue

It had been the most stupid thing he had ever done. Why had he let it happen? How had he been taken in by them? The men had been friendly, they had talked amiably. They had asked about his work. He had been happy to talk to them about it. They had bought another bottle of wine. One of the men had refilled his cup. They had toasted him. He had taken a good swig of the wine.

And now he was sat in a cellar, his arms tied behind him, as a thumping headache assailed his senses. He was sure the headache was not down to the wine. He was sure he had been drugged and that the men who had been drinking with him were responsible.

He did not know why.

The tavern he had stopped in was not one that they usually frequented. He remembered going into that tavern with Porthos a couple of times, but not recently. Would his brothers think to ask after him there? Even if he had been seen in the tavern his kidnapping might not have been noticed. He remembered the tavern was busy.

He looked up as the cellar door was pushed open. Several men entered, walking down the stone steps towards him.

D'Artagnan guessed he was about to find out why he had been drugged and taken hostage.

Chapter One

A few hours earlier...

D'Artagnan was glad to be back in the city, despite being brought up in the country he now felt more at home amongst the Parisians. The dirt and grime which he had at times found unpleasant to start with was now normal to him. The people, the variety of people, were always fascinating. He had grown up on a farm, he sometimes did not see strangers for weeks. Now he sometimes did not see anyone he knew for a whole day. But he had grown to love it. Despite its faults, the city was now his home.

The mission he had been on, which he was still on, had been a long and sensitive one. When Treville had called him to his office a fortnight before he had initially wondered why he was going on his own. He had wondered if he had done something wrong and was about to get a dressing down. But no, his Captain was sending him on an important journey. Treville had admitted that d'Artagnan had been chosen over the other inseparables because he was not as recognisable yet. He had not been a Musketeer as long. Athos, Porthos and Aramis were well known in the city and in the town that d'Artagnan was to travel to. Treville needed a man who would not be recognised as easily.

But Treville had made sure that he understood that he was not being picked solely due to his short length of service. Treville was picking d'Artagnan because he was trustworthy. Only one of his best men could be called on for the mission. D'Artagnan had struggled to hide his pride at the compliment. Treville had smiled at him, in that fatherly way that he had.

The intelligence was indeed important and sensitive. So much so that it could not be written down and could only be passed to one man. Treville had intimated that he had considered going himself to collect the information, but he was equally well known and the people who wanted the information would have worked out what he was doing.

The Captain had made sure that d'Artagnan understood the mission was dangerous, but the young Musketeer had accepted the task regardless. He wanted to serve his country and he was a soldier, he faced danger every day.

The journey out had been uneventful, Porthos and Aramis had seen him off with great ceremony, pretending they would never see him again. He had appreciated their antics, lightening the mood. Athos had given him a look that told him to be careful and that he was proud of him.

He had travelled without his uniform, no one paid him any notice. He was just a man travelling through France on business. He was nobody. D'Artagnan had met with the informant and spent some time learning all that he could, memorising everything. The informant had made d'Artagnan recite the information back to him several times before he was satisfied that it would be remembered correctly.

Returning via a different route had taken him through some pleasant countryside. He had wondered for a while what his life would have been like if he had returned to his farm and not stayed in Paris. He had quickly decided that Paris and the Musketeers were better than tending crops.

And now, as he made his way to the Palace where he knew Treville was going to meet him he was glad the mission was coming to an end. He would be glad to pass on the intelligence and be able to return to the garrison and his friends.

The Palace loomed in front of him, the day was bright and warm, d'Artagnan could see courtiers wandering in the grounds as he rode towards the stables. He spotted Treville talking to Porthos and a couple of cadets, they acknowledged him as he passed. Treville broke off and followed d'Artagnan, reaching him as he handed his reins to a stable boy.

'You timed that well,' said the Captain with a smile, 'I have a meeting in thirty minutes, the intelligence you have will be useful.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'where do you want to go?'

'I think out here is fine,' said Treville glancing around, 'let's take a stroll along here, no one will be within earshot without us knowing it.'

D'Artagnan followed his Captain along the open gravelled pathway. Treville checked around himself a couple of times, when he was satisfied they could talk freely, he stopped d'Artagnan and looked at him expectantly.

MMMM

The intelligence passed on, Treville had released d'Artagnan of his duty, telling him he did not expect to see him on duty the next day. It was obvious to Treville that d'Artagnan was tired. The fortnight-long mission had felt longer. Thanking his Captain, d'Artagnan had walked back to the stables. After a brief conversation with the groom there to arrange for his horse to be returned to the garrison once she had been rested, he began to make his own way on foot.

D'Artagnan had been riding for several days and a break from the saddle was welcome. He took his time picking his way through the streets enjoying the smells and continuing to muse on how much he preferred the city to his previous life.

His stomach rumbled reminding him that in his haste to get to the Palace he had not stopped that day to eat. One of the things he enjoyed very much about the city was the availability of food. Some of it was not particularly wholesome but over the time he had been there he had learned how to spot a good tavern. The Hare was one such tavern. He remembered Porthos buying them food there a few months before and finding the hot meal had hit just the right spot to satisfy his craving.

The tavern was situated on the corner of two roads, and d'Artagnan knew it was likely to be busy. But he did not mind, he wanted to be surrounded by people again, even if he did not know them. He pushed his way through the door.

The warmth of the fire and the smell of the food and drink hit him like a tonic. He smiled to himself as he scanned the room for an empty table. There were several groups of people enjoying what was on offer. A group of soldiers from a different garrison were sat together raucously toasting one of their number, who looked a little younger. D'Artagnan guessed the young man had just gained his commission. They were plying the man with wine. D'Artagnan recalled a similar experience after he had been commissioned. Although the details were hazy.

A group of shopkeepers and stallholders were holding court in a corner, they were deeply embroiled in a conversation, one of the men thumped his fist onto the table at one point and his friends responded with shouts of agreement to whatever had been said.

A couple of street women were in the process of luring a couple of men away. The men, in expensive looking doublet's, appeared to have just arrived in the city. D'Artagnan noticed the landlord chuckling as he watched the women mesmerize the naive men.

Finding himself an empty table d'Artagnan sat down with a sigh. A woman appeared at his side with an amiable smile, a tray held at her side, she looked at d'Artagnan expectantly.

'What food have you got on?' he asked.

'Chicken stew, and I think,' she said quietly, 'it actually contains chicken.'

They both smiled, the woman winked at him conspiratorially. The crinkle at the corners of her eyes told him she was genuine with her friendliness, there was no hidden agenda.

'Then I would like some wine and some of your real chicken stew,' said d'Artagnan as he fished out a couple of coin from his money bag. He watched the woman wander away towards a doorway, he guessed leading through to a kitchen. She batted off a couple of men who tried to grab her, leaning down to give one a chaste kiss on the cheek with a smile. The men laughed before returning to their conversation.

D'Artagnan leaned back in his seat and continued to observe the people, smiling as he watched stories unfold in front of him. The two street women led the travellers away. One of them threw a smile towards the tavern keeper who nodded back in return. He already had the men's money, what they did next was not his concern. The soldiers continued to drink, the merchants continued to talk animatedly.

'I wonder, if we might join you?'

D'Artagnan looked up at the man who had spoken to him. The man was a little older than him and wearing plain, but not inexpensive clothes. Stood with him were four other men. The table d'Artagnan was sat at would easily accommodate them all. D'Artagnan nodded to the vacant seats around him.

'We won't disturb you, monsieur, I doubt you get many chances to relax with a good meal.'

The man nodded towards d'Artagnan's pauldron, which he had been pleased to put back on when he had left the Palace.

'A little company would not go amiss,' replied d'Artagnan. 'I've been away from the city for a few days...I've actually missed the...chaos.'

The men chuckled.

One of the other men, an older man, missing a tooth asked, 'what have you been doing?'

D'Artagnan hesitated. The man noticed and spoke again.

'The King's business,' he said, 'we won't pry.'

D'Artagnan smiled, 'what do you all do?'

Keen to move the conversation away from his recent mission d'Artagnan decided to get the men talking, instead of them asking him questions. Despite enjoying talking about his soldiering he could not talk about his mission.

'We're working on a big house; the owner wants it decorated for his return from travelling. I think it's the only time any of us would be able to stay in a place so grand, despite the fact there's little furniture and we're sleeping on the floor,' said the first man.

D'Artagnan nodded. The woman returned with his wine and food, she lay the bowl in front of him and poured his first cup of wine. She looked at the other men.

'What can I get you boys?' she said with a coquettish grin.

'That looks good,' said one of the other men pointing at d'Artagnan's food.

D'Artagnan nodded his agreement as he took his first mouthful. The serving woman smiled.

'For all of you?' she asked.

The men nodded. The woman disappeared to get their food.

D'Artagnan continued to enjoy his stew as he listened to the men talking about the work they were doing on the big house. He did not really understand what they were talking about, building and restoration were not something he was particularly interested in. But the company was welcome, just listening to mundane everyday things was a change to the silence and stillness of the last few days riding through the countryside.

As the evening wore on the men ordered more wine and continued to talk, they poured wine for d'Artagnan and included him in the conversation. They began to ask him about the skirmishes he had been in and tried to extract any Palace scandal he might have. He had gladly talked about his soldiering but had declined to pass on any scandal. They had laughed at his reply and poured more wine.

D'Artagnan knew he should stop drinking with the men and get back to the garrison, but his thoughts were becoming woolly. He blinked a few times as the fatigue of the last few days caught up with him. A moment of clarity told him he should leave the men to it.

He managed to stand, pushing his chair back across the floor, he said his goodbyes and thanked the men for the wine and conversation. They returned the thanks and went back to their conversations. D'Artagnan began to make his way towards the door, hoping the cool air of the evening would help to sober him up a little; it would not be becoming for a Musketeer to be stumbling through the city on his own.

D'Artagnan did not remember reaching the door of the tavern.

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