She watched quietly from the tree line, as at least ten men dressed in the colours of Spain pushed four others, who were heavily shackled, towards an old, tumbled down building.

She had been on her way to Paris when she had decided to camp for the night in the forest on the outskirts of the capital city. It had been a long way from her home, and if she was going to make a good impression at her appointment in the morning, then she wanted to be rested. But not for one minute had she thought she would come across soldiers of the enemy not too many miles from Paris. Thought what she was to do about it.......

She could of course go in all guns blazing; but that would be suicide. She was but one person and they were ten; and despite her confidence in her abilities, they were not good odds. That, and she had no idea who the four shackled men might be. They could be Frenchmen, that was true; but they wore no colours, just normal clothes. So, in truth they too could be Spaniards; perhaps ones that had betrayed Spain and the soldiers had come to take them home to be punished for their treason. And if they were, she was not about to give up her life to protect any man of Spain. Yet there was something, a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that told her she had to do find out. That perhaps she should try and ascertain whether the captives were her countrymen or not. But if they were......then what.........? Doubt filling her mind for a moment, her eyes focusing on the heavens, as she wondered what her father, her grandfather would do.

Her grandfather Louis and father Remy had been Musketeers. They had served France and its kings with pride and honour, and she was sure that if they were there, they would know exactly what to do. In truth, they would probably tell her to have more confidence in herself and everything that she had been taught; that she had the blood of the Musketeer's running through her veins. And although she might not be one........yet, she still held their creed in her heart. The young woman quickly making her way back to her camp and collecting her muskets, and any other weapon that she could find, before returning to her original spot on the tree line.

The sun was beginning to set, and soon the shadows would grow long; and that would be her cue to make her move. The quickly formed plan was simple really; she would make her way over to the ruins where the chained men were being held, then.......she would listen. If they were French, then she would try her best to release them from their bondage and hope at least one of them could fight. And, if they spoke Spanish, she would leave them to whatever fate awaited them. Her body slumping against one of the trees, as she waited for the right moment.

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Slowly, in hopes of not drawing any attention to herself, she moved through the trees around the clearing. She had watched as the Spaniards had lit a fire and brought out bottles of what she presumed must be wine. Their conversations getting louder, as the alcohol flowed freely; the daughter of Musketeers not sure how no one had heard or seen the raucous, despite their distance from the city. The fire, in her opinion at least, was foolish enough; but then getting drunk and loud on top of that, was beyond crazy. Yet the rowdy conversations did mean that the soldiers were less likely to hear her making her way to the captive.

Finally, she reached the building, her body pushed up as far as she could get it, against the old stones. The warmth of the day, still lingering on the rocks, as she crept closer to where the four chained men, were seated. She was doing her best to steady her heart, to control her breathing; if everything went wrong, she was going to need to be in control, to have a clear head. Her lungs filling with a deep breath, as she did her best to listen to the hushed conversations that the captives were having.

"You don't have anything.......?"

"Nope, they even found the dagger I keep in my boot........."

"Athos.............?"

"Nothing..........."

"d'Artagnan........?"

"They took everything from me too............"

The deep breath leaving her, as she heard four voices speaking French; that at least clearing up one question in her mind. The fact that they were her countrymen meant that she really did have to do something. Now determined that she would not stand by while these accursed Spaniards did whatever they had in mind, to these men of France. Her form moving steadily, carefully around the building until she got to what must have been an old door. Dropping to her hands and knees before crawling to the man nearest her.

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"So, what do we do now........?" d'Artagnan asked, as he looked between the others. His eyes finally focusing on Athos, whom he was sure was somehow blaming themselves for being captured. Athos, who already seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, always appeared more than happy to blame himself when things didn't go as planned. And d'Artagnan had to admit that for him, Aramis, Porthos and Athos, things did not seem to go to plan, too often.

It had been a pretty simple task that they had been given; none of them really thinking about the order to escort a lady to the port of Calaise. Yet obviously there must have been more than it appeared; or perhaps the Spaniards had been given the wrong information, because on the way back to Paris, they had been ambushed, by the ten men that were still with them, and ten more, that had parted ways with them before that had got to the old building. The Musketeers doing all they could to defeat their enemies; but finally finding themselves overrun. And now, here they were, bound and chained; their weapons taken. Though no questions had been asked of them........well, not as of yet anyway.

"Er............" Porthos suddenly said; the others turning toward the big man, whose eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

"I don't want to worry you boys. But there is something crawling up my arm............."

"Shhhhh. Be quiet. Do you want them to hear.............." Another voice interrupted. Athos, Aramis and d'Artagnan shifting, as they finally saw a dark clad figure just behind Porthos.

"They may be drunk and loud, but that doesn't mean that one of them won't look over. So just act normally, while I try and release you." The voice continued. None of the boys able to place the tone. None of them sure whom they might find under the hood. But if they were going to help them.............

"The lock is not a good one. I should be able to pick it. I hope one of you can fight. If we are going to get you away from them, it is going to take more than me. Even in their current state............." The Musketeers looking at one another and trying not to laugh. It not their saviour's fault that they were not aware of whom they were helping.

"We can; but we will need weapons............." Athos replied quietly, as he turned his gaze to the happily talking soldiers.

"I have my own sword, and two more. That, and two muskets and a couple of daggers. Admittedly the muskets will only have one shot each; but it is better than nothing...........there.........." The figure continued, sounding rather pleased with themselves, as the locks holding Porthos wrists, finally clicked open. The big man rubbing his reddened flesh and smiling broadly, as the person moved on to release d'Artagnan.

"The weapons................?"

"They are on the other side of the wall. If you can crawl out, you will find them not far from the doorway........" Porthos nodding at the words and keeping himself as low to the ground as he could.

"Who are you............." Aramis enquired with a soft smile. A smile that caused her heart to beat a little quicker for a moment, before she returned her attention back to the shackles.

"I........I am a friend. My name.........is Gabriel.........." She replied. Sure, that she would never see these men again, but still not about to reveal her true identity to anyone. She had done too much; she had removed or disguised any signs of her femininity. If she hadn't, she would never get to be a Musketeer. So, she might as well start the lie now. The untruth not likely to mean anything to the four men. All they needed to know was that she was there to help.

"And how do we know you are telling the truth? You could be one of them........." The last man asked as she went to aid him. Biting back the desire to insult him in return for insinuating that she could possibly be working for the Spaniards.

"My father, my grandfather were the kings Musketeers. They served their kings and their country, and I wish to follow in their footsteps. I do not work for Spanish dogs.........." She hissed back in reply, not noticing the look that the men gave one another at the mention of the Musketeers.

"Now, are you just going to sit there and insult me; or are you going to help me kill those men.............?" She continued, as she finally looked up into the man's dark eyes. The man just giving her a small nod in reply, before he reached out and took one of the swords from the bigger man, she had freed first.

                                                    >>------------------------------------<<

She was doing her best to regain her breath. It had been an easy job to dispatch the ten men when there were her and four more, that had proved to all be more than handy with the weapons that she had brough. It was just that..........she had never killed anyone before. Despite all her training; despite all the long hours with sword, dagger and musket; until this moment, she had never taken the life of another. Not quite sure how she felt about the whole thing; but sure, if she did manage to get herself a position as one of the king's guards, she would have to get used to the sight of dead bodies.

"Whoa, there lad.........." Her heart beating faster again, bringing up her sword as she turned to face the man that had just placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing like being enthusiastic. But I think you'll find that they are all dead. You can relax........." The one with the pretty smile said, whom she now knew was Aramis, as he reached out and slowly pushed down the tip of her sword.

"Sorry............"

"Your first time killing a man..............?" The dark eyed man interrupted, as he moved to his friend's side.

"What does that have to do with you..........." She replied harshly, as she wiped the blood from her sword. Still not having forgiven him of accusing her of working for the Spanish.

"Ignore him. He's always that gruff........." The big man chuckled, before slapping a hand on her back and nearly sending her stumbling forward.

"First time or not, I think ya did a good job......." He continued, his smile getting broader as he looked down at the young man in front of him.

She was glad that none had said anything about her appearance since the hood had fallen from her head. It obvious that her disguise was good enough to fool these four; leaving her to only hope that when the time came it would be enough to also fool Captain Treville and the Musketeers.

"Porthos is right. I think you did well." Agreed the youngest man of the bunch, as he came to stand before her, giving her back her dagger, before offering her his hand.

"I am d'Artagnan, that is Aramis; the grumpy one is Athos, and that, as I have just said, it Porthos........." d'Artagnan introduced. A smile coming to her lips, as she shook his hand.

"Gabriel Fortin. It is a pleasure to meet you." She replied. Again, not seeing the look the older men gave one another at the mention of the last name.

"Well, now the introductions are over, we better get out of here......" Athos said. d'Artagnan nodding before making his way over to recover four of the horses that hadn't bolted during the skirmish.

"Then this is where I leave you." Gabriel said, remembering to bow instead of curtsy, before turning to make her way back to her camp.

"And where do you think you are going........?" Aramis enquired, as he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"To my camp. I had only stopped in hopes of getting some sleep before making my way into the capital in the morning. I never expected any of this. I have an appointment with Captain Treville of the Musketeers tomorrow. He knew my father and even my grandfather. I am hoping that he will let me prove to him that I am skilled enough to join the ranks of the Musketeers." She explained, as she pulled her arm away from Aramis' grip.

"Well, this all sounds like a quirk of good fortune." Porthos smiled.

"We were heading for Paris originally. You should join us, lad. A night in a tavern will serve ya better than a night in the woods. That, and we might all be able to get to a few drinks as well. Why don't you go and get your things and come back here. We can all ride into Paris tonight........" The big man continued. He and Gabriel looking to the others. The only one not smiling at the suggestion, Athos. His look pushing her to agree with Porthos.

"Alright. I'll be back as quickly as I can.........." Gabriel replied, pushing her sword back in its sheath, before running off.

"Don't look at Porthos like that, Athos." Aramis chuckled, as he spied where the Spanish had bundled up their weapons.

"If the boy is really the son of Remy Fortin, grandson of Louis; then can you imagine what the captain will say if he finds out the lad freed us and then we left him to his own devises in the woods? Remy was Treville's best friend and Louis his mentor. It won't go down well. That, and he can only be d'Artagnan' s age. Just think how we would feel if the roles were reversed, and Gabriel left d'Artagnan............." Aramis continued, as he threw Athos his sword. Athos nodding reluctantly, as he strapped his sword back to his side. Still sure that there was something a little strange about the boy. But he had been out voted, so..........

"He better hurry up. We haven't got all night............." Was all he replied, before climbing up on one of the horses.