My Fair Musketeer
Notes:
Thank you to AZGirl! She betaed this story (all leftover mistakes are mine) and helped me sort out the ending.
Yes, this is a twist on My Fair Lady where d'Artagnan is Eliza, Athos is Professor Higgins, Aramis and Porthos share the role of Colonel Pickering and well, Treville is sort of Mrs. Higgins.
Much of the dialogue is from the movie (not the book) and I never realized Higgins was a bit of a jerk. Sorry if any songs get in your head.
Athos stumbled out of the tavern eager to get some air after the cramped quarters. Porthos was out of the city on a mission, more than likely returning in the morning. Aramis had found his own divertimento. Too much wine made him attune to the late sounds of Paris.
On the street, some of the peasants warmed themselves over a smudge pot. The swordsman took notice for a brief moment before he stumbled, accidentally running into a passerby.
Unfortunately, the passerby was wearing the uniform of a Red Guard. "A Musketeer," the Red Guard sneered. He whistled loud and other Red Guards came forward like ants.
"I will pass, and that will conclude this matter."
The five Red Guards laughed and one gave him a shove.
Athos clenched his fists, not willing to result in fisticuffs just yet in order to avoid trouble and Treville's reprimand. However, he underestimated his opponent as he was hit on the back of the head which brought him down to one knee.
"Hey, leave 'em alone!" A dark haired lad, perhaps eighteen, perhaps twenty, over-long hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in a long time. A shoddy jacket and worn boots completed the look.
The Musketeer did not want anyone else involved. He drew his sword. The blade was enough for a few of the Red Guardsmen to fall back, but one was particularly persistent. Within seven moves he was dispatched.
"But you were drunk," the boy who had remained nearby said.
Athos was not incapacitated and did not like the impertinent assumption of the boy. "You see your help was not needed."
"You're a Musketeer."
"Yes. Athos of the Musketeers. I will leave you." He headed towards his apartment, dreaming of his bed and a few hours of sleep before having to report to the garrison.
When Athos arrived at the garrison both Porthos and Aramis were waiting for him while eating their breakfasts. "When did you return?" Athos accepted the bread, but nothing more from Aramis.
"Just a little while ago," Porthos answered as he protected his bowl of porridge with arms on each side.
They were interrupted by a new Musketeer, Jacques. "There is a young man who wants to see you, sir."
The swordsman was not expecting a visitor and did not like surprises. "A young man? What does he want?"
Jacques had no answers. Aramis took pity on him and waived him on. "Show him in."
The new Musketeer returned with the olive skinned boy from late yesterday evening. "This is the young man, sir."
The boy licked his lips and spoke slowly. "Good morning. Might I have the pleasure of a word?"
Athos frowned. Had he told the lad to come to the garrison? "Are you here for a reward?" He pulled some coins from his pocket, forced them into the boy's hand. "Now be off with you."
The young man threw back the money. "You ain't heard what I come for yet."
"Let the boy speak, Athos." Aramis had brought one leg on the bench and was relaxed as if he was watching theater.
The boy gave the medic a nod. "I came for lessons. And to pay for them too, make no mistake."
Athos snorted in disbelief. He had no time for these antics. "And what do you expect me to say?"
The boy huffed, his nostril's flared. "Did you not hear that I can pay?"
Porthos had finished his porridge and took interest. "What do you want, lad?"
The boy squared his shoulders. "I work at the dock. My family owned a farm in Lupiac, but my father died and I came here for work. I want to be a Musketeer, but I need someone to teach me." He scratched his foot in the ground. "Well, here I am ready to pay him, not asking any favor."
Aramis laughed, then covered his mouth to hide the smirk. "His last pupil was stolen by the Cardinal."
It was still a sore point, aggravated because Athos saw the traitor on an almost daily basis. "Rochefort was greedy and I did not teach him everything."
"What's your name?" Porthos moved closer to Aramis on the bench.
The boy was wary. "Charles d'Artagnan. I'm called d'Artagnan."
Porthos gave a nod to Aramis who also was in silent agreement. "Be fun if all of us could show them up. But, I bet Athos won't do it. Sorry, lad."
Aramis slapped Porthos's shoulder, and then leveled his gaze on Athos. "Bet? I'll bet you that you can't do it. If you can then I will make sure you have enough wine for a year."
"Wine for a year?" The idea was tempting for him to be able to save his coin, and the boy seemed driven. "We'll start today, now. Clean him up." Athos sat back down and gestured for Aramis and Porthos to take care of his charge. "Sandpaper, if it won't come off any other way."
D'Artagnan was flagging in his training. Normally he took a break to eat, but today he could not find the energy, instead helping himself to some water while Athos got a plate of food from Serge.
Serge placed the food in the plate. "You simply cannot go on working the boy this way: making him drill over and over, from sun up to sundown. You'll exhaust yourself. When will it stop?"
"When he does it properly, of course. Is that all, Serge?" Athos was in the frame of mind to believe Serge had bet against him. He took two portions of bread.
The swordsman pressed a piece into d'Artagnan's hand. "Eat, then back to forms."
That night they retired to Aramis's quarters and remained with Athos laid back in a chair, his feet up. Porthos was sitting down half-asleep in another chair. Aramis was on his bed, listing slightly to the right. D'Artagnan was exhausted, but still working on his forms.
"Extend your full reach," Athos said wearily.
D'Artagnan dropped his arms. "I can't. I'm so tired. I'm so tired..." He despaired.
Porthos snorted awake. "For God's sake, Athos, it must three o'clock in the morning. Be reasonable."
Athos rose. "I am always reasonable. D'Artagnan, if I can go on with a blistering headache, you can."
"I've got an 'eadache too," the young man rubbed his head.
"I know your head aches; I know you're tired; I know your nerves are as raw as meat in a butcher's window. But think what you're trying to accomplish." Aramis gestured to the pauldrons they were all wearing. "And conquer it you will."
"Now try it again." Athos prompted then watched as the young man repeated the same mistake. "What was that rubbish?"
Athos pulled out his sword, and in an instant, executed the move perfectly.
D'Artagnan groaned. "That's what I've been doing for three days and I won't do 'em no more."
Aramis laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I know it's difficult, but try to understand."
Athos sheathed his sword once more. "It's no use explaining. More drilling is what he needs. Now you leave him alone or he'll be turning to you for sympathy."
"I'm returning to my quarters." Porthos stretched. "But have a little patience with him, Athos."
Athos eyebrows pointed up. He gestured to the door. "Of course. Return tomorrow, d'Artagnan."
The younger man was tempted to make another angry exchange. Instead, he gathered his belongings and headed to his room. "Just you wait Athos, just you wait! One day I'll be a Musketeer!" he mumbled to himself as he walked through the early morning streets of Paris.
It was another day in the garrison yard watching Porthos knock down d'Artagnan repeatedly. Athos shook his head.
"I come about a very important matter."
Athos noticed the large shadow before directing his attention to the big man who wanted his attention. "Who are you and what do you want?"
The big man placed his hands on his hips. "LaBarge, and he works for me. I want him back."
The swordsman judged the stranger in an instant. "Well of course you do. Take him away at once."
LaBarge was taken aback. "What!"
Athos gestured with a flick of his wrist. "Take him away. I won't keep your worker away from you."
LaBarge glanced between a distracted d'Artagnan and Athos. "Be reasonable. The boy owes me a debt. You got him. Where do I come in?"
"Ideally, you would leave the way you came." Athos knew they were getting to the crux of the matter. He recalled the lad mentioning working on the dock on the Seine.
Aramis had been overhearing the exchange from the overhang. The sharpshooter decided to interrupt. "He's trying to help d'Artagnan. The lad wants to be a musketeer."
LaBarge nodded and smiled. "Of course. Five livres would be enough."
There were days that the human race disgusted Athos in their predictability. "So you are selling your worker?"
"Have you no morals?" Aramis rested his hand on his sword.
LaBarge spat on the ground unabashed.
Athos tossed him his money pouch. "Five livres I think you said."
The money disappeared in the meaty hands, but d'Artagnan saw his former employer and broke from Porthos. "What are you doing here?"
Aramis stepped in between the boy and LaBarge.
"Just leaving with a recommendation to join the Red Guards. Give Rochefort my regards. He's always looking for men like you." Athos dismissed the large man and with a pointed look ordered d'Artagnan to resume his training.
Aramis suggested that the garrison participate in d'Artagnan's training, therefore giving him a variety of sparring partners. Athos was complaining that the young man was not advancing. Both Aramis and Porthos had grown fond of the lad, wanting to help him even though it would mean losing the bet.
"He did it!" Aramis proclaimed, jumping as he said it. Porthos crowed in agreement.
"We're making fine progress." Athos smirked. "I think the time has come to try him out."
"The Wren?" Porthos answered.
The tavern was known to both Red Guards and Musketeers, although Treville had banned Musketeers from there because of the fights that ensued between the two groups as a result.
Athos and Aramis arrived at the Wren to take up an area in the corner. "Where the devil can they be?"
D'Artagnan and Porthos entered and walked toward them, but d'Artagnan appeared slightly nervous. Porthos seemed to reassure him and the lad visibly relaxed.
They joined Aramis and Athos with Athos, the latter scrutinizing d'Artagnan. "Well let's get to it."
Athos presented d'Artagnan in front of a group of Red Guards. "Are these the ones?"
D'Artagnan frowned. "Does it matter?"
"Not really," Porthos commented.
"Come on... Move yer bloomin' arse!" D'Artagnan gave a shove and it was enough to start the brawl.
The proprietor forced them out with a musket shot, which went according to plan so they could use swords instead of fisticuffs.
Finally, the Red Guards had enough and left the quartet.
Aramis was holding up d'Artagnan who seemed a bit dazed.
"Do you think he's ready?" Athos asked with pride.
The answer was a clearing of a throat. "I advise you to give it up now and not put yourselves and this poor boy through any more." Rochefort sauntered up to the four with no fear.
D'Artagnan shrugged off Aramis's assistance, but kept his head down.
"It's inhuman to continue." Rochefort turned and was enveloped by the darkened street though his smugness remained in the air.
Over the next month d'Artagnan went on missions with the Inseparables. Porthos sensed that Rochefort's words stung, but they forced the young man to try harder and listen more intently.
When they returned from their latest mission, they entered the garrison to a gathering. Porthos saw Treville on the deck outside his office and caught his friend's attention.
"The King wants the animosity between the Red Guards and the Musketeers to stop. He has proposed a contest. Best cadet against best cadet. The winner becomes a Red Guard or Musketeer."
"D'Artagnan should represent," yelled a Musketeer from the crowd.
Porthos turned to the lad. "You're are the only cadet who is ready. Souer just started."
The date was set and Porthos and Aramis were both nervous, but Athos was calm. "At a moment like this, with so much at stake, you're not nervous?" For sure the fighter believed Athos would have found respite in a bottle or two of wine. "And what about the boy? You act as though he doesn't matter at all."
"Rubbish. Of course he matters. What do you think I've been doing all these months?"
Porthos was satisfied that he ruffled the usually unflappable Athos as they stood on the sidelines waiting for the Red Guards' champion.
Rochefort entered with his cadet, none other than LaBarge, who Athos had paid to leave d'Artagnan at the garrison. Rochefort crossed the field so that he stood in front of Athos and Porthos. "Surprised?"
Porthos was not about to admit anything to the Captain of the Red Guard.
"Admit it Athos. I will always be your best pupil, and I taught LaBarge everything I know. He'll break your man." Rochefort sniffed in d'Artagnan's direction. The young man had lost the nervous exuberance. "Excuse me, I was asked to be in the royal box by the Cardinal."
"Head over heart," Athos warned d'Artagnan before encouraging him to enter the field for the battle of honor of the regiments.