#red guard vs musketeer rivalry

[29-pieces]

Whumptober day 24 - The Musketeers

Day 24: Blindfolded Fandom/Setting - BBC’s The Musketeers, early S1 before d’Artagnan is commissioned Read on AO3 Read on FF.net

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"Filthy cowards!" d'Artagnan raged, squirming with all his might in an attempt to get back up on his feet. The thick rope that had been wound around his middle kept his arms trapped down at his sides, preventing him from drawing a weapon or throwing any punches. It also made it harder to keep his balance. Between that disadvantage and the blindfold wrapped over his eyes to keep him from seeing which direction the next attack would be coming from, d'Artagnan had no opportunity to defend himself.

The red guards who had waylaid him all seemed to find this terribly entertaining. Their jeers and taunts circled the unfortunate recruit, as did a heavy kick every time he tried to clamber back up.

D'Artagnan gasped as another blow came out of nowhere, driving the wind from his body and leaving him to double up and wheeze for precious oxygen. The insults levied at him fell on deaf ears. As soon as he got free of this, he thought with fury, he was going to beat each and every one of them into the ground, single-handedly.

"Shouldn't have thrown in your lot with that Musketeer rubbish," one of the guards snickered. The statement was followed by a hand fisting in his hair, pulling him halfway up off the ground. "Everyone knows they're sorry excuses for soldiers."

D'Artagnan felt blood dripping from his nose over his lip as he bared his teeth and snarled blindly back, "One of them is worth ten of you!"

His loyal declaration was paid for with a punch to the cheek. What was one more bruise to add to the myriad he was rapidly accumulating? Reckless and outraged, the Gascon added, "None of you would dare face one of them one on one! You aren't fit to even speak of them!"

More blows rained down on him and he couldn't see to brace himself. Pure stubbornness (and the fact that they probably couldn't hear him anyway over the shouting and jeering) was all that kept him from any audible sounds of pain. For crying out loud, he wasn't even a musketeer! ...Yet! But when he was, oh, he would make them pay for this...

"One of 'em is worth ten of us, didya hear that, lads?" one of them asked with a loud guffaw. "Well, there are ten of us, aren't there? An' one of you. Which means... you might want to recalculate that, little pig farmer."

"You'd think all his time wrestling pigs would have made him better at this," another hooted.

D'Artagnan's blood surged hot at the insult, and he snapped back, "You're saying you're no better than pigs, then?"

A beat of silence followed; he could just imagine their collective brains trying to work through the statement, which eventually one of them did. An angry shout preceded more kicks and punches that d'Artagnan couldn't evade, try as he might to anticipate the next shot. Surely they would tire of this soon, he thought frantically. Despite the Red Guards' ongoing rivalry with the Musketeers, they couldn't actually kill him... could they?

"Wait, I know what'll make him squeal," one of the men suddenly called. "Where's Bruno?"

D'Artagnan had no idea who Bruno was, but the excited agreement from the others left him with no doubt he wasn't going to enjoy finding out. Multiple pairs of hands grabbed him by the arms, hauling him up to his feet and dragging the blindfolded recruit along. He struggled and shouted, doing his best to wriggle free of the rope around his middle, but they held him firm. Somewhere nearby, he heard a gate or door being opened, then he was pushed forward. Tripping on the cobblestone, d'Artagnan ended up sprawled on the ground again, only to freeze at the sound of throaty, furious barking.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath, trying to scramble back from the newest threat, knowing that he had no chance at fighting off a dog without the use of his hands. "Bastards!"

"Bruno, you hungry?" one of the guards closest to him asked. Footsteps retreated, leaving d'Artagnan alone.

Bruno, and he sounded huge, started barking and snarling even louder, sounding desperate to get at d'Artagnan's throat.

Heart pounding in his chest, d'Artagnan said his mental goodbyes to anyone who had ever known him.

"Get 'im, Bruno!"

D'Artagnan felt something huge barreling forward, heard the sound of heavy paws and enraged growling; he curled up to make as small a target as possible and finally gasped in fear.

Having finally achieved the reaction they'd been hoping for, the red guards dissolved into laughter.

.o.O.o.

Athos wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Since d'Artagnan's first, rather memorable moment barging into their lives, he'd proven himself something of a magnet for trouble. Athos recognized it; he had two other brothers who were just as bad. What he was not expecting was for the Red Guard to have gotten themselves involved with the newest recruit.

Though, he was quite sure it would have taken nothing more than a snide comment about the musketeers in general, or one of the three Inseparables in particular, and d'Artagnan would have been trying to duel the entire complement of Red Guard. Athos shook his head in spite of the silent affection. Loyalty was commendable. Perhaps once they taught him to temper it somewhat...

In any case, even Athos had not been expecting a full squad of red guards to have waylaid the boy. Cowardice was one thing, but surely this was beneath even them. Coolly, the swordsman drew a pistol and fired it into the air. It worked to make all of the guards duck and spin around in fright, though it had also made d'Artagnan flinch violently from his spot on the ground. Not what he'd been going for.

"Restrain that brute," he ordered calmly, nodding to the dog they'd been using to taunt d'Artagnan. The beast was still wearing a collar and lead; he suspected they hadn't been planning to actually let the animal attack d'Artagnan, only wanting to get a frightened reaction from him.

"Athos?" d'Artagnan asked shakily. "Is that you?"

"Mm," Athos assented, directing his coldest glare at the Red Guard lieutenant, the one who should have been above this childish game. "Porthos."

"You lot," Porthos growled in disdain, dismounting from his horse and storming over towards d'Artagnan with his dagger in hand. The red guards scurried to get out of his way. "Pathetic, that's what you all are."

"The next time you get bored, we'd thank you to find your entertainment elsewhere," Aramis added flippantly, his own pistol idly resting on his leg but pointed right at their attack dog in case any of them had the bright idea to loose the beast after all. "And leave our recruits alone."

Athos watched as Porthos cut d'Artagnan free and pulled the blindfold away. The lad was quick to jump to his feet, and he was a mess of bruises, but Athos was pleased to see he appeared only furious and not scared. Good. It wouldn't do to let the bullies know they'd obviously gotten to him. He was also glad to see Porthos merely offering d'Artagnan a hand back up without fussing over him too much, none of them wanting to give the guards the impression that d'Artagnan needed coddling or protection. Lifting his chin, Athos turned his attention back to the lieutenant.

"Although," he went on. "If you're so anxious to prove yourselves against a musketeer, any one of you may challenge me. Right here. Right now. Any takers?"

His eyes slid from one to the next, daring each and every one of them to try their luck against a musketeer who was ready and able to fight back. To nobody's surprise, each of the guards looked away as his eyes settled on them. By now, Porthos was back on his horse and given d'Artagnan a lift up behind him. Athos nodded in satisfaction and glowered around once more, just to make sure the message had sunk in.

"The captain will hear of this," he growled, before wheeling his horse around and charging out of the Red Guards' courtyard.

He led the way back to the Musketeer garrison at the same clipped pace, but immediately swung down from his horse to grab d'Artagnan as soon as he dismounted from behind Porthos. Without a word, he took the lad's chin in his hand, turning his face this way and that to see what damage had been done.

"'M alright," d'Artagnan assured him, wincing and bruised, but as fierce as ever. "Next time I see one of their sniveling faces, I'm going to-"

"Whoa there," Aramis chuckled. He stepped over to the recruit, draping a casual arm around his shoulders. From his unconcerned grin, only one of his close friends would realize he was getting in place to grab d'Artagnan if he collapsed. "Don't get me wrong, I do love the idea of those tontos getting what they richly deserve."

"An' the captain would feel the same," Porthos said with a smirk, only barely masking the vengeful ire Athos knew he felt at their recruit being picked on. "But then he'd have to reprimand us..."

"And then you're mucking stables..."

"And most importantly, there's no sense giving the Cardinal reason to convince the King not to give you the commission you deserve," Athos finished for them. From his assessment, the lad had come to no real harm, nothing worse than some bad bruises and injured pride. "Now go see Serge. We had him save some supper for you when you weren't back in time."

Clearly still raring for a fight and unsatisfied at the lack of vengeance, d'Artagnan nevertheless nodded and headed for the mess. Athos watched him go, rubbing his chin broodingly.

Aramis crossed his arms and smirked. "There's some fire in that one."

"He's gonna make a great musketeer," agreed Porthos. "If he can stay outta trouble long enough."

Yes, Athos mused with a silent nod. Yes, he was quite sure d'Artagnan was headed for greatness. And they would be behind him every step of the way.