A Warrior Disarmed
My beautiful France:
As the sun sets over beautiful Paris, my comrades and I sit and do nothing but drink and tell our servant, planchet, to shut up. Ever since the incident with the duke of Buckingham, there has been little to do with ourselves. Ah, drinking again what more could a man ask for? Well more than four close, trusted friends would be a start. It has been several years since milady betrayed us and yet I still can't help but feel that there is something missing in my otherwise normal life.
A loud knock came at the door, and was followed by D'Artagnan, who was clutching at his left shoulder while a growing red stain took over the thin fabric of his shirt. As he was about to say something, I saw his figure slump against the door frame and he fainted. He had obviously lost a lot of blood. Aramis, who had been standing the closest to D'Artagnan caught the younger man and lifted one limp arm over his shoulder and was mirrored moments later by a dumbfounded porthos. I hadn't noticed immediately but I caught sight of a figure standing, merely watching our shocking exchange from behind the door.
"Who are you?" I questioned keeping a wary eye out
The figure slowly made its way into the light of the numerous candles we had lit. I saw to my shock a young woman, she must have only been nineteen. She was shaking violently, no doubt from shock as it was unbearably warm for this time of the year. She had long, silky red hair, which reached the small of her back and curled at the ends. Her eyes were an uncertain colour, as if they could not chose whether they preferred green or grey and her skin was perfect in every way but had taken a deathly pallor similar to that of a dead man.
"I-I'm S-sor-ry" she stuttered tears pooling and falling. Rolling down her white cheeks, leaving sad, silver trails behind them.
It was then that she dropped to her knees, held her head in her hands and cried silently, the only sign of her grief was the irregular jolting of her shoulders, which shook with her lamenting sobs.
I knelt down beside her shaking body and comfortingly put one of my rough, calloused hands on her shoulder feeling her start slightly at my touch. She lifted her head and looked me straight in the eyes, her own were puffy and worn out, she looked exhausted and extremely pitiful and scared. I draped one of her arms over my shoulder gently and used my free arm to lift her, bridal style, and carried her inside and laid her carefully on my own bed. As soon as removed my arms from around her she curled into a ball and whimpered slightly. I sat next to her and merely watched as she slowly relaxed, becoming accustomed to my presence.
"What's your name?" I asked in barely a whisper.
She yawned widely, her eyes slowly drooping and closing of their own accord and her soft voice, was barely audible as she replied
Her eyes opened slightly one final time, before she finally drifted to sleep.
I smiled to myself, her name echoing in my head. Abigail.
I know it's probably too short so I'll try and update as soon as I can!
I hope it's likable though (likable, is that even a word)
Oh well, read and review!