Disclaimer: I do not own the series Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters, nor the supposed OC.
Notes: This story was written to celebrate the birthday of a dear friend of mine, a fellow fan of the series. Because of this, the woman in the story has no name mentioned, and is actually my friend (which is why her name isn't mentioned, it's for safety reasons...). There is a pairing in this story, Albert x my friend.
Happy birthday, my friend! I hope you enjoy this!
A special day was approaching rapidly. Everybody had been working on something to plan for it. The Three Musketeers (plus D'Artagnan) and Monsieur de Treville had been visiting different tailors and designers, and Albert had been helping a jeweller.
"Alright, so this is for a young woman, correct?" the designer questioned. "What do you have in mind?"
"Something like what we have. However, not exactly," D'Artagnan responded.
"The woman we wish to present with this outfit is a bodyguard for Her Majesty and has helped us many times. For that, we wish to give her something to show we consider her to be one of our own," de Treville clarified.
"Alright, I understand," the designer responded, nodding slightly. He put quill to parchment and started to sketch out their uniform. "Now then, what alterations would you like to make?"
"The crest on the tabbard can differ slightly, maybe a more fanciful cross?" Aramis suggested. "Something with flourish to show that she is a personal protector of Her Majesty." He saw the cross being redesigned over the original to show where the differences would be made. He nodded his approval. "Yes, that does look suitable."
"Oh! Her collar should be a little more styled too. Not too much, but something fanciful," D'Artagnan piped up.
"The colour should be different too," Athos mentioned. "Not orange and brown like ours, but not a dark shade of royal blue. Maybe a lighter blue?"
"Why do you mention a blue uniform?" the designer questioned.
"We have a ranking system expressed by colour of uniform," de Treville explained. "The higher the skill, the closer to the blue uniform. She is rather skilled in combat with different forms, so if she was a Musketeer, she'd have a blue uniform."
"Ahh, I see." The designer wrote a note. "Now then, women are known to wear dresses or long skirts."
"No. Not that. She has already expressed disinterest in wearing a skirt," Porthos spoke up. He recalled a ball that the Musketeers and the Queen's bodyguard had to attend to ensure peace and safety for all, just in case Cardinal Richelieu had something planned. Throughout the ball, Her Majesty's bodyguard had complained many times about having to wear the gown. (Following that, even Her Majesty told her not to worry about wearing gowns or skirts.)
"Then, is there something you suggest? I've noticed your sleeves and trouser legs are tight-fitting. Would you suggest something like that?"
"Yes. Only, instead of all the way down to the ankles, they can stop just below knee-height. We've had some long boots made for her," D'Artagnan responded.
The designer made more notes and sketched over the plan. He revealed his final design. "How is this?"
"It is perfect," de Treville concluded with a firm nod.
The jeweller had tried to design the perfect locket, but whatever he suggested, it just didn't seem suitable enough. "I have an idea. Would you, by any chance, have a quill, an inkpot and some parchment that I am able to use for the moment?"
"Oh, certainly, Monsieur." The jeweller reached under the counter and pulled out the requested items, then handed them to the petit Musketeer. He watched as the quill sailed over the parchment, leaving the trail of ink in an interesting design. "Dragons?"
"They have a special significance to her," he responded quietly as he continued sketching. Thanks to his designing of his many inventions and all of the plans required to make them, he did have an impressive artistic skill, so his design was clear to see. He finished, and handed the parchment to the jeweller. "I was hoping to include a portrait inside this."
"Portrait? Oh, I see. This is for a very important young woman."
The emphasised very caused the young Musketeer to blush lightly, the shade darkening slightly when he heard a chuckle.
"I can take care of all of this. And, you also wish to include an inscription on the inside?"
"Yes."
"Would you like to come up with one of your own?"
"I would, thank you."
"Well then, I know what we can do. I'll make the locket, it will take two days. Following that, you can return with the portrait and the inscription you wish to have engraved. I can insert those that same day."
"That will be perfect, it's exactly when it will be required. I thank you very much."
"Very well, Monsieur, I shall see you in two days."
He tipped his hat in thanks and left the store, his mind working as he tried to think of the perfect inscription.
Two days later, the group of Musketeers arrived at the tailor's shop. "Hello, are you in here?" D'Artagnan called.
"Yes, one minute please, Monsieur, I shall have your outfit ready and boxed very shortly," the tailor called back from the back of the shop.
During the wait, the Musketeers and de Treville brought together their gold sovereigns to pay for the outfit. "Hey, what do you think Albert will give her?" Porthos questioned.
"It's sure to be special, she's very precious to him," Athos responded.
"I never thought the day would come when our young Albert would fall so hard in love with a fair maiden," Aramis commented.
"I thought I saw him coming out of the jeweller's store as we were on our way home two days ago. He must be getting her a necklace or a bracelet..." D'Artagnan stated thoughtfully.
The tailor stepped out with a large box. The lid was not on it. He set it on the counter and brought out the uniform. "I hope that this is to your liking?"
"It's perfect!" all five men exclaimed. Satisfied, they paid the arranged price and took the boxed uniform back to their headquarters.
The jeweller was polishing the outside of the locket when Albert stepped into the store. "Hello, Monsieur, you are just in time. I am ready to make the additions to the inside. Have you brought the portrait and inscription?"
"I have." He reached under his tabbard and brought out a miniature portrait and a piece of parchment.
The jeweller opened the locket and inserted the portrait carefully so as not to damage neither the painting nor the locket. He then read the inscription and prepared to engrave it.
Albert watched and waited until the inscription had been completed before he accepted the locket and read what had been written. Keep me close to your heart, just as I keep you close to mine. He smiled and nodded in satisfaction. "This is perfect."
The jeweller accepted the locket, cleaned it carefully, closed it and added the slender chain requested. "I am certain the fair maiden will accept this and appreciate it."
"I do hope so." He accepted the boxed locket and paid for it, then made his way out of the store.
Back at de Treville's mansion, the headquarters for the King's Musketeers, the main room was being decorated with streamers. Thankfully, there were no disasters, nobody nearly falling off a ladder.
Albert brought a cake into the room, he'd been working on it following his visit to the jeweller's. He set it on the large table. "This is for the party. Until it is time to eat it, please do not touch." His words were polite, but his tone was firm. With just that, he made it clear that anybody who dared to touch the cake before it was time for the birthday girl to cut it was going to be punished.
Everybody agreed it was best to not find out what Albert was capable of when he was angry, and knew that though the temptation was great, they would not even dare to touch the cake, even to sneak some cream from the top.
The time was near. Everybody was ready for the arrival of the guest of honor. They looked out the window and watched for her arrival. They spotted her riding on a horse. "That looks new..." Athos commented.
"Her Majesty had planned on giving her a horse of her very own," de Treville explained.
They saw as the woman led her horse to the stables, patted each of the equines there (all enjoyed the attention she offered) and made her way into the mansion. It was time. She was soon going to be at the room. Everybody got into position.
The door opened, and there stood the young woman.
"Joyeaux Anniversaire!" a loud chorus of male voices called, the sound echoing through the night air of Paris.