Weakness

by btamamura

Thanks to some cruel words uttered by the smallest Guard, Albert is finding himself dealing with low self-esteem after his defeat. Someone needs to straighten him out, but how can they when he has shut himself in his workshop? Rated to be safe.

Disclaimer: I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or any characters featured within this story.

Notes: This idea hit me in my dreams. I kept thinking of the smallest Guard against Albert in a duel, what would happen if Albert lost, things like that. The idea of the psychological torment wouldn't leave me alone, so I wrote this.

There is no slash at all, platonic relationships only.

I hope you enjoy!

(Linebreaks hate me, so I will use AdPCD.)

AdPCD

It was not an uncommon occurence for any of the Musketeers to run into the Cardinal's Guards, ensuing in the also expected battle of wits and clashes of metal as sword met sword. It was so commonplace the citizens of Paris had already planned what to do should another large-scale fight take place.

It was Albert's unfortunate luck that he ran into the smallest of the Guards while he was in the marketplace, just purchasing some more ingredients for his ammunition.

"I thought it was clear by now that Musketeers like you aren't permitted to enter the marketplace," he remarked in a rough voice. Compared to his physical stature, it was almost a case of vocal dissonance.

Albert closed his eyes, willing away any frustrations he felt. He then turned to face the Guard. "I believe the marketplace is for everyone."

"Everyone but you."

He was starting to understand why D'Artagnan was so quick to call a charge when a Guard appeared. But, that was against his nature, so he decided to resume shopping instead of allowing the Guard to get under his skin. He looked to the merchant of the stand. "Five tomatoes, please."

"Oi! I told you to get out of here!"

"No, you did not. All you said was that Musketeers aren't permitted to be here. You did not say anything about me having to actually leave." He paid the merchant and turned to the Guard. "I wasn't bothering you, I just wanted to do some shopping in peace. Why are you behaving in such a rude manner?" He picked up his basket and proceeded to the next stall.

The Guard was having none of that. "Then, I'll say it! Get out!"

The petit Musketeer let out a quiet sigh. "I am afraid you have no right to order me around, Monsieur. I am not leaving until I have finished."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Hm...I suppose it is."

He drew his sword from its scabbard. "In that case, enguarde!"

"No, I'd much rather take care of business first, then I shall duel you."

The Guard fumed quietly, but then smirked. "Oh, I see. You don't want to duel me because you're afraid you'll lose."

"No, it is because I am otherwise occupied. Now, if you'll excuse me." He made his way to the next stand and observed the merchant's wares. "Could I have two wheels of cheese, good sir?"

"Admit it, Musketeer. You won't duel me because you're too weak, and you know it."

His eye twitched at the offensive remark. He again willed himself to stay calm.

"I mean, you don't even engage in swordfights, you hide behind that blunderbuss of yours or any other invention."

He paid the merchant and set the cheese into his basket. He decided the best way to get the Guard to back off would be to ignore him.

"Nothing to say in response to that? Oh, I guess I must be right then! The Fifth Musketeer is a puny weakling!"

He paused in his steps and turned to face him once more. "Excuse me, but I believe right now, you are a pot calling the kettle black. We are the same size, are we not?"

"By height, sure. But, I have far more muscle than you do. I'd whoop your sorry behind any day of the year and you know it."

He'd had enough of the insults, the hypocrisy. He finally set down his basket and drew his sword. "In that case, Monsieur, would you like to prove your words are more than that?"

He took on a stance. "Heh, now we're getting somewhere!"

Albert also took on the stance. "Enguarde, Monsieur!"

AdPCD

"Zounds! Sounds like there's quite the duel happening over that way!" D'Artagnan remarked to the Three Musketeers as the sound of metal clashing with metal filled the air. "Let's go observe, shall we?"

The four men hurried in the direction of where they could hear the sound. They were surprised to see just who was engaging in the duel. "Albert?" Porthos called, "what the devil is going on?"

Albert was focusing on his duel against the Guard. He was starting to tire from the efforts he was putting in, but the Guard looked like he was barely breaking a sweat.

D'Artagnan felt his blood boil at the sight of the Guard. "You fiendish Guard, I shall give you a taste of my sword!"

"No!" Albert called. "This is my fight. Please do not interfere."

"If you say so, Albert."

The Guard smirked, noticing how exhausted his rival appeared. "Heh, I knew it. You really are a puny weakling. I told you I could beat you, and I shall. Time I stopped playing around." He swished his sword upwards.

All five Musketeers' eyes widened as they watched the sword fly from Albert's grip and then land in the dirt behind him.

The Guard pointed his sword to his rival's chest. "Victory is mine this time. Face it, without your inventions, you're useless." He sheathed his sword. "Well, I've had my fun for the day. I bet Milady will be delighted to hear I was able to one-up you." He turned on his heel and walked away, head held high and mocking laughter sounding from him.

Albert picked up his sword and slid it into its sheath. He looked to his friends. "Please. Not a word about what you just saw. I'd much rather not talk about it right now." He then picked up his basket. "I'm returning to my workshop. Please nobody enter, I need some time alone."

D'Artagnan watched with concern as the smallest Musketeer made his way back to the de Treville mansion. He knew the loss had to be a huge blow to Albert's pride.

AdPCD

"You really are a puny weakling," the Guard's voice echoed through his mind.

Albert let out a frustrated huff. That had been twice that Guard had gotten the best of him. The first time was when the newest recruit of the Musketeers had accidentally divulged information about his secret weapons to the enemy.

"Weakling. Weakling."

"No, I am not a weakling. He caught me at a bad time," he muttered as he started slicing the tomatoes.

"I told you I could beat you."

"Silence! Be quiet!" He gasped when he realised he was shouting at the voice in his head. "Gosh, this isn't like me at all. I'm taking this a lot harder than I thought I would." It was hard not to, though. The Guard's mocking voice echoing through his mind along with the blow to his pride made his defeat far more bitter than he would've anticipated. "It's not that I am incapable of holding my own in a duel; I can handle a sword just as well as my friends can. I've shown it in training. I have fine stamina, so why was I finding myself getting worn out?"

"You're a puny weakling."

"I wasn't asking you." He sat down and contemplated the situation. He thought about how he was feeling through the duel. "Oh. I think I understand what went wrong. I wasn't relaxed. If anything, I'd allowed myself to be overcome by his insults. He knew it, he could see it. That was why he was barely putting up a fight. He knew his insults had made their mark on my mind and I was being driven solely by emotion, not by reason." He rested his forehead on the table. "I always tell D'Artagnan to never allow his emotions to rule over him when he engages in combat, yet I did exactly that. I am such a hypocrite."

AdPCD

"You don't think we should tell the Captain, do you?" D'Artagnan asked when they returned to their residence.

"Personally, I feel that should be something Albert does himself," Aramis responded. "He'll need some time though."

Athos frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you think he will though?"

"Hmm...probably not."

"This was a big blow to his pride," Porthos remarked.

D'Artagnan sighed. "What's more, we don't know what started it. He's never one to give in to someone else's words."

"Words...? Wait, that must be what happened!" Aramis exclaimed.

"What do you mean?"

"What was it that Guard said to Albert before he left?"

"He called him...he called him a puny weakling, said he was useless without his inventions." He growled. "I'd like to show that Guard a thing or two for what he said!"

"He must've insulted Albert's pride by insulting his physical prowess," Athos commented with a sigh.

"I guess we'll only really know how it went when Albert's ready to talk about it."

AdPCD

Albert had stored away the ingredients, not feeling up to brewing up more ammunition. He stood in the center of the room, sword in hand. Strangely, it felt a lot heavier. "The weight of defeat is difficult to bear." He stared at the dummy he'd moved and envisioned the Guard.

"You're weak. You're a puny weakling who hides behind that blunderbuss and your inventions. Without them, you are useless."

"I do not hide behind them. They are my greatest strength, as is my cunning mind."

"Useless weakling."

"No. You are incorrect in saying so." He took on the fencing stance. "I shall prove it to you." He then repositioned himself to a normal stance and sheathed his sword. "Though, because this is just a dummy and not actually him, I am unable to do so right now. To be honest, I don't really want to see him; now or ever again."

"Weakling."

He sighed and sat down again. "I am not a weakling." So, why was he starting to feel like the Guard was right?

AdPCD

Three days had passed. Nobody had seen Albert. He'd been holed up in his workshop and had even boarded up the entrance in the ceiling so the others couldn't use the fireman's pole to enter. It was getting to be highly concerning.

Captain de Treville felt enough was enough. Albert was clearly not going to tell him anything, so he would have to ask the others if they knew what had happened to lead to the smallest Musketeer locking himself away.

"Three days ago, Albert engaged in a duel with the smallest of the Cardinal's Guards. We don't know what led to that as it occured while he was shopping and we were on patrol. He lost, Sir. As the Guard left, he called Albert a puny weakling, and laughed," D'Artagnan explained when approached.

"I see. Have any of you tried talking with him?"

"We can't get in. He's blocked all entrances, even the one from our room."

"He's more than likely working himself into a state. You'd better try talking to him, even if you have to drop down the chimney to do so."

"The chimney, Sir?"

"Or shout through the window. Whatever you do, just talk to him."

"Yes, Sir."

"Once you have, I want you to inform him that I wish to speak with him."

"Of course, Sir."

"Good."

D'Artagnan watched as Monsieur de Treville departed. He started thinking of what he could do to try to talk to the youngest Musketeer.

AdPCD

Albert had his hands over his ears and shook his head as that mocking voice echoed through the recesses of his mind once more. It had been all he could think about for the three days since what he considered a disgraceful loss. He had tried telling that jeering voice that it was wrong, but the longer it continued, the harder it was to believe his own words.

"Albert? Albert, let me in, would you?"

He jumped, realising the voice was not the one he'd been hearing for days. It was a familiar and more welcome one. He looked to the window and saw D'Artagnan standing there, knocking on the glass. Normally, he would oblige, but he didn't feel like seeing anybody at that moment.

"He's come to tell you that you're weak. He's come to tell you you're not fit to be a Musketeer," the voice in his mind unhelpfully supplied.

"Albert! Come on, I want to talk to you! It's important! We're worried sick about you!" D'Artagnan continued calling as he continued knocking on the window.

"He's lying. He's come to tell you that you have to pack up and leave."

Albert shook his head. "You're lying. D'Artagnan has never once told me to leave, even if I made a mistake in my early days. If anything, he reassured me that all would be well."

"But, you're not letting him in. You know I'm right."

"Albert! Please, let me in!" D'Artagnan called again. "It's okay, we're not upset with you! Please, I just want to talk!"

The petit blond shook his head again. "Please leave me be, D'Artagnan. I do not wish to see anybody..." he called back.

"You've been in here for three days! Albert, come on! Talk to me! I told you that you could always come to me if you needed to!"

"Please, go!"

"Albert!"

He turned his back to the window. "I implore you to please go away and leave me be, D'Artagnan. Please."

AdPCD

D'Artagnan sighed and stopped knocking on the window. It looked like he would have to try the chimney after all. He noticed with some relief that Albert did not have a fire going, though at the same time, he was concerned. No fire meant he was not brewing up another batch of his ammunition. Just what had his petit friend been doing for three days?

AdPCD

Albert sat at the table, his head in his hands.

"Weakling. Weakling. You won't even see your friend. Weakling."

"I'm not..."

"You are and you know it. Now, admit it. You are a weakling."

"I..."

Soot fell from the chimney as someone climbed out of it, unnoticed by the only occupant of the room.

"I...am a weakling."

"No, you're not!" D'Artagnan exclaimed heatedly as he approached the tiny blond. He brushed the soot off his torso. "Albert, who said you're a weakling?!"

The blond turned at the sound of the voice and gasped. "D'Artagnan? How did you get in here?"

"Chimney. It was the only way in without actually breaking the door down or smashing a window. I told you, I'm worried about you. We all are. It's not like you to hole yourself up in your workshop for days, not even when you're working on a major project."

"I don't appreciate you just barging in like this."

"Be mad all you want. It's a good thing I came in when I did." He folded his arms across his chest. "Why did you just say you're a weakling? You know that's a lie."

"It's not." He shook his head, turning his back to the brun. "It's not a lie. If I wasn't weak, this defeat wouldn't be getting to me."

"How badly has it gotten to you?"

"That Guard's mocking voice, his sneer, his laughter, it is all in my mind. Ever since the loss, all I can hear is him calling me weak. He sometimes adds that I'm useless."

"Well, have you tried shutting him up?"

"I did try. But, he just got louder." He sighed, head bowed and eyes focused on the tabletop. "I'm not fit to be a Musketeer."

"You are. You're the best out of all of us! You know how I feel when it comes to that, so know that I am being dead serious!"

Another sigh. It sounded broken.

He willed himself to calm down; getting fired up would not help the situation. "Albert, you're the smartest, bravest, kindest man I know. You're able to come up with great ideas on the spot, no matter what it is you face. You have all these great inventions that have been a huge help to all of us; we probably wouldn't be as successful in our missions if it wasn't for your input." He approached him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, opting not to voice how he noticed it trembling. "Your mind is your greatest strength; we'd be nowhere without you. Not only that, but you are someone with a smile that is contagious. You have boundless energy, you love life and all it offers. When we find ourselves feeling hopeless, you're like a rock that gives us back our strength. A mission is going awry? You have an idea. One of us is dealing with a blow to our pride? You remind us of what is most important and give us the courage to try again. Why didn't you let one of us do that for you this time?"

"I'm ashamed...I should be more capable than this..." he murmured.

"There is no need to feel ashamed. Everyone has a bad day. Nobody is perfect; neither you nor I."

"I...I know."

"So, why did you let this get to you? Why did you believe that scoundrel's lies? He was only trying to get under your skin."

"He succeeded. I gave in. I am weak."

"You're not weak. It was a moment of weakness, but you, as a person, as a Musketeer, you are not weak."

"I was driven by emotion when I was duelling him. That's why I lost. I am normally more relaxed, able to think clearly. My mind was clouded by his cruel words."

"Oh, Albert..."

"I know I shouldn't have let him get to me." He finally turned to face the older brun, revealing moist eyes. "I know it! But, he..."

"Touched on a sore spot? I remember you felt unworthy to be a Musketeer one other time. Do you?"

"My first mission..."

"His words probably drudged up those unwelcome feelings and memories."

"Well, not all of them are unwelcome. I did learn I have a friend I can always trust."

"So, why didn't you feel you could trust me this time?"

If he was wearing armour and that question was a pointed lance, the jab would've been strong enough to leave him with a wound.

"I said it before too. You can come and talk to me anytime about anything. It doesn't matter what it is. Whether you feel ticked off about something, upset, dealing with a distressing time, even if it's just for a friendly chat. Why didn't you talk to me this time? Why did you try to deal with it on your own?"

He bowed his head again. "I was ashamed of myself. At first, I just wanted a little time to work through it in my mind; see where I went wrong and what could be done to prevent such errors next time. But, then the shame of my defeat built up."

"Albert..."

"That was when his voice became much louder. At that point, he started sounding more correct."

"That's when you should've come to any of us about it. We could've made him shut up instantly. Instead, you had to keep listening to him."

"I know..." He let out another sigh. "I'm sorry, D'Artagnan. I should've come to you about it. I just..."

"You took a sharp blow to your pride. It's alright to feel frustrated about it. It's not alright to shut out your friends and it's definitely not alright to let your tormentor continue his torment."

He nodded quietly.

"It all built up to be too much, right?" He sat beside him, lifting his hand and looping his arm around his shoulders. "Do you feel a need to release it?"

"I don't know." He did know, he just refused to admit it.

"Well, we can sit here for a while. I can talk about anything, if you'd like."

"I'd like that. Anything to stop me from hearing him."

"Alright."

"Even...even if I do decide to relieve my emotions...could you please keep going? I don't want any silence right now."

"Of course." So, D'Artagnan started talking about anything and everything he could think of. He didn't pause until he was told he was fine to stop, not even halting his words as he felt the smaller man shaking.

AdPCD

"I'm alright now."

D'Artagnan paused. "Has that voice shut up at last?"

"Yes. Your words helped silence him. Thank you."

"It's alright. Don't let it happen again though; tell me and I'll shut them up straight away." He gave his best friend a squeeze before releasing him from the half-embrace. "By the way, Captain de Treville wanted to see you. He's been worried about you too."

"I'd best go see him then. Thank you, my friend." He rose to his feet. "By the way, if Porthos could remove the boards from your entrance to here, that would be appreciated."

"So, you're done being a shut-in?"

"Yes, that's over now."

"Glad to hear it. Now, you'd better report to the Captain."

"I should go. I'll see you later." He made his way to the door, unlocked it and left his workshop, shielding his eyes from the sunlight.

AdPCD

"That is what led to my strange behaviour, Sir."

Monsieur de Treville nodded. "Hm, I see. It's unusual for someone's words to get to you like that."

"He touched a nerve, Sir."

"I see. It's a shame what happened, but there are ways to rectify that. You'll have to focus more on your swordsmanship."

"Understood, Sir."

"Not only that, but we'll have to make it for all occasions so you can be sure to keep a level-head next time."

"How shall we go about that, Sir?"

"I'll be leaving that to you to decide what must be done."

"Very well, Sir."

AdPCD

One month later, the smallest Guard was in the marketplace. He spotted Albert. "Oh, and I thought I taught you a lesson last time."

"You only got lucky. This time, I am far better prepared." Albert looked back to the other Musketeers and saw them nod in encouragement. He turned back to the Guard, drawing his sword and taking stance. "Enguarde, Monsieur!"

The Guard drew his sword, also taking stance.

AdPCD

The duel had lasted for five minutes. Albert had kept a level-head through the whole thing, even when the Guard tried tossing about some cruel words. Because of that, he wasn't just swishing his sword wildly, also meaning he was not getting exhausted faster.

The Guard, on the other hand, was faring horribly. He was alarmed when the roles were reversed; his sword being sent flying and the Musketeer pointing the tip of his sword to his chest.

"I believe this is my victory, Monsieur." He sheathed his sword.

"You should've finished me off. I lost. I'm weak."

"No." He picked up the Guard's sword and handed it to him. "You're not weak. You were defeated, true, but you put up an excellent fight. I thank you for such an exciting duel."

The Guard accepted his sword and sheathed it. "Why aren't you mocking me? I mean, I did that to you! Shouldn't you be giving me a taste of my own medicine?"

"That's not the sort of person I am. I don't resort to petty insults, nor do I mock a fellow swordsman when he's down. Instead, I graciously thank him for the duel we engaged in. We are enemies, we are rivals, but I am not a bully."

The Guard turned and walked away. Suddenly, he didn't feel as ashamed for his loss.

Albert turned to face his friends. "That's that settled."

"You handled the whole thing beautifully, Albert! Your graceful moves turned combat into an art form!" Aramis remarked.

"Not to mention being the metaphoric bigger man and being gracious in your victory," Athos added in an impressed tone.

"You have enough reason to be proud of yourself for what happened today," Porthos piped up.

D'Artagnan approached him and placed his hand on his shoulder. "I know I'm proud of you. Well done, Albert."

"Thank you. All of you," Albert responded.

AdPCD

After notes: Yet more angst from me! I swear, 2016 is my angst year! Doesn't help my mood influences my writing and seeing as my mood is pretty low... Anyway, not much else to say about this.

Thanks for reading! You don't have to review, but if you do want to say something, please don't flame. Constructive criticism is welcomed, of course.