My first Musketeers fanfic, yay.
Originally, I wrote it for my friend who asked me, because there are just a few stories from this fandom, but when it was finished, I decided to translate it into English, cause why not?
Enjoy!
Let's get rid of them! (for the welfare of France)
Treville was in his office. He liked it there. It was a small room, but most of the time it was calm and primarily quiet. Well, at least until the moment one of his musketeers decided to burst into it.
"You cannot be serious about this!" d'Artagnan in his indignation had nearly unhinged the door when he clearly out of breath dashed into his commander's room. The man only raised one eyebrow significantly without looking up from the papers piled on the oak table in front of him.
"Since when have you been receiving orders from the Cardinal?" asked the young man as if he found Treville's actions a personal insult.
"Calm down, d'Artagnan. His eminence does not give me orders, he simply decided that the task is suitable for you," explained calmly the man sitting behind the table trying to solve a scrawl of one of his soldiers. He frowned when he realized that the course of that illiterates' patrol would probably remain a secret for him forever. From the corner of his eye he noticed how the young Gascon reddened as a tomato.
"What purpose serves then His Eminence's renowned Red Guard?" asked suddenly a new voice that belonged to no one other than Athos. Treville didn't bother to get excited by the arrival of another troublemaker - they all knew that the Comte de la Fere could step out of the shadows if he wanted to.
"Probably for embellishment," Aramis entered the room with a smile. "He probably thinks that red matches his eyes. Why else would he surround himself with such a riffraff?" he presented his theory casually. Treville had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.
"Maybe he's afraid," said Porthos and squeezed into the crowded office as well.
"Of what? Intelligent conversation?" sneered Aramis. "God knows that those idiots cannot put two fluent sentences together."
"Messieurs, have you come here to play me a theatre or do you need anything? I say in advance that it is not possible to cancel the order," Treville finally looked at the group.
"Why not?" groaned d'Artagnan, but Athos' hand on his shoulder quickly reminded him of good manners. Treville knew that the two of them had started to get along and was glad for it, but when Athos didn't take off his hand and instead came closer to stood behind the young man, he realized that those two were probably closer than he would ever have dared to guess.
"The command comes from the King. After careful conversation with the Cardinal, we agreed that my men are better suited for this mission than his. And who can be more discreet than the four of you?"
Aramis burst out laughing, but Porthos swiftly elbowed him in the stomach.
"Does not the Queen have her own guards?" asked Athos.
"Sure, but His Majesty expressly required his men to accompany her to the spa. Cardinal of course offered his services, and the king decided that we should make an arrangement between us," said Treville patiently. "Well, so we did."
"It's not the cardinal's order then?" the youngest musketeer wanted to be sure.
"No, it's king's order, you can calm yourself, boy. However, keep in mind d'Artagnan that in my absence you must obey His Eminence, whether you like it or not," threatened the captain.
"I thought in such situations we are to obey Athos," Porthos grinned. Treville sighed and briefly looked at the most sensible (unless you count Milady) man, who was calmly looking back.
"Sure, that would probably be for the best. God knows that the only of you who has at least a little sense for authority is Athos. Now get out, I need to finish my paperwork," he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. When they were leaving he noticed Athos' hand resting on the young Gascon's lower back. He smirked and started to read the next report.
For a while there was silence again.
Cardinal Richelieu did not like his study. His back always ached if he sat behind the desk for too long and the cool walls of the palace provided a little consolation. It wasn't a surprise then that he was just walking through one of the many labyrinths in the gardens when someone fell into step next to him.
"They were like vultures, weren't they?" he asked and turned left.
"It wasn't so bad," said the Captain of the Musketeers and turned right.
They walked in silence for a moment, little pebbles crunching under their soles and the wind shook the green walls surrounding them a couple of times. Treville stopped when he felt that they were somewhere in the middle of the maze. Richelieu took another few steps forward when he realized he was missing a companion. He turned half of his body so that his long tunic tightened around his legs and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Is something wrong?"
Treville frowned. "Why do we always meet here? It's not exactly close to the barracks."
Cardinal gave him an amused grin. "Do you wish to see me try avoiding horse faeces, mud, puddles and get a splinter from your awful railing in pursuit to have a chat?"
The other man looked at him as if trying to imagine that comic picture, but then just shook his head and took a few steps forward. "I'd never be so cruel," he said quietly and lifted the cardinal's hand to his lips. Richelieu's breath got caught in his throat as Treville instead of ring lightly kissed his fingers.
"Why have you spoken about it then?" asked His Eminence, who somehow couldn't breathe properly.
"You asked," his companion smiled.
"Treville," said the Cardinal slightly exasperated.
"Armand," replied the captain softly and leaned in for a kiss.
Richelieu allowed himself to close his eyes and to forget everything for a moment. But the First Minister of France couldn't so easily give in to his passions, especially since he had dedicated his life to God. With a sigh he broke the kiss, but didn't step back and let Treville to rest his forehead against his.
"Not today," he said quietly, but still hadn't the strength to break free from the embrace. Despite the layers of fabric he felt the warmth of the other man's hand, which was squeezing his hip. "I came up with an idea how to get rid of them for two weeks. Now it depends only on you, my dear, how fast can you read all the reports that are still lying on your table."
"I may come then?" smiled the captain. "I'm sure I will have them read by tomorrow."
"Certainly," agreed the cardinal, and as if both realized that was the final word they let go of the other reluctantly.
"Tomorrow then, your Eminence," Treville grinned and bowed mockingly which earned him a small smile. He turned on his heel, but hardly made two steps when the Cardinal grabbed his wrist.
"Jean," he said and for a moment he looked so careworn the other man didn't recognize him. Suddenly, the Cardinal kissed him again fiercely - it was a desperate act of a desperately desiring man and Treville wasn't able to do anything other than to whisper his lover's name into his lips and let him take whatever he needed.
God knew he would do anything for the welfare of France.
"I changed my mind," said the Cardinal breathlessly, when after a long time they both had to stop and breathe. "Come tonight," he asked kissing him again, slowly this time, and as if to make sure Treville wouldn't escape he put his hand on his cheek.
The Captain of the Musketeers grasped a fistful of robe of the holiest man in the country and pressed the whole length of his body against his.
"Tonight," he said letting go of him and quickly left without another word. If he had stayed just a second longer, he would have probably desecrated the royal gardens.
Hope you liked it. Remember feedback is love :)
Oh, and if you saw some horrible grammar mistake, please let me know.
