I walked down the street late at night, just returning from Constance's new house, a nice two story house with apartments out to rent, after she had tortured me for hours over pie. But she let me sample the creations we had made, so it made it worth the torture of being smacked with wooden spoons for reaching for the dough.
Christmas had just ended a few days ago, two days in fact, and I was still sailing on the holiday high. It had been almost month since Constance had been kidnapped and tortured, and though the scars were still there, she had stopped limping. She also had one of my daggers that I had given her as a gift attached to her thigh, and I had been teaching her how to use it really well. And where to aim for the most damage.
I wasn't so sure if it came down to that she'd be able to do what I was teaching her, but if one of her friends was threatened, she'd probably find the will to at least swing the weapon. She wasn't good at throwing it, and Aramis stopped coming to the practices after she almost accidentally took his ear off…. While he was standing behind her….. and she was throwing it forward…..
To say the least, Aramis stopped coming, and only D'artagnan's devotion to Constance made him stay. And even then, he hid behind me.
Such brave men I called my brothers….. Except for Aramis of course. He wasn't a brother. But he was my best friend, and a lot more.
My hand rose to the blue cross hanging around my throat, and I traced the braided pattern. Aramis had given it to me as a gift, and I cherished it since. We had of course exchanged gifts on Christmas, and I had a jeweled dagger from him that hung on my hip. That was the one dagger I had refused to throw. I had given him something of my own make, something that my father had taught me how to do.
Since he was an apt shot, I had acquired a flintlock, and carved the metal in intricate designs that looked like a jumbled mess from far away, but if looked at closer, resembled a cross, plus, in memory of my first gift to him, a panther prowling down the barrel.
And because of the jagged designs, it looked as if both ran through lightning. It had taken me weeks to complete, and I almost didn't finish it in time. But he had liked it, so it was worth the various cuts I had retrieved carving it.
I had given Porthos a carved lockbox for his cards, but he could store anything inside it if he wished. A bear had sat on top of it, swinging at anyone who dared come close.
D'artagnan had gotten an engraved watch with a rearing horse on the front since Athos always complained on how D'artagnan was late for nearly everything.
Athos had gotten a long hunting knife he could conceal on his leg that had a wolf prowling along the blade, and a black leather bound hilt.
I had been proud of my creations, and my brothers had enjoyed them.
Constance's dagger had a hawk resting on the side of the hilt, just so I could continue the pattern.
I had even sent Treville a strong box with a lion engraved on the lid. He could easily fit papers or even a flintlock in it. He had sent me back some very strong whiskey that could have belonged in Scotland.
I had also gotten a new cloak from Constance, black lined with blue, a deck of glittering cards from Porthos since I had recently gotten fascinated with card tricks, a new pistol from Athos as well as a bottle of wine, and a carving of a sitting black and blue fox, tilting his head, from D'artagnan.
It seemed that since I had given everyone, more or less just me, animal persona's, I had neglected my own. So, everyone agreed with the amount of slyness, sneakiness, cunning, and ruthlessness I possessed, plus the scary (In their opinion) ability to slink away unseen, a fox was definitely my animal mirror. I was alright with it, I actually liked foxes. They were survivors.
The new year was coming up quickly, and I was already planning on dragging Aramis off to some secluded part of Paris to watch the fireworks, so graciously provided by their majesties. Preferably on some rooftop, maybe even ours since it was higher than most of the buildings in the vicinity, so we could just be Aramis and Rogue, and we didn't have to hide the fact we were courting.
We had already told our brothers and Constance, and though they had been surprised, they agreed to keep it quiet. Athos had frowned upon it, brooded for a few weeks, then came to the house with a bottle of his finest wine as a way of apologizing for his behavior and toasting our relationship. Then making us promise that if things went sour, we would not let it affect our jobs, or anything else.
We had already promised that to each ages ago anyway, to remain friends if things didn't work out, so it was all too easy to make Athos that promise.
He had still acted a bit off for a week, but now he was back to his usual self. Thankfully. I was missing the snide debates filled with sarcasm and ill humor that he and I could flow through effortlessly. If we tried with anyone else, beside Porthos, Aramis, D'artagnan, Treville, and Constance, they'd burst into tears and run away. And though I would never admit it, I loved those debates, and doubly so because if made people question my sanity.
Plus, a few new friends, the baker, the blacksmith, and the librarian, saw Athos verbally beating me up and almost hit him. Aramis saw the baker just in time to avoid Athos getting smacked in the head with a frying pan, and I was convinced the blacksmith was ready to use the axe he had been crafting on Athos' head.
The librarian had hit him though, square in the forehead, with a book. After we explained everything to him, the poor man had apologized profusely. But it was hilarious seeing the angry red mark on Athos' forehead for a week after it happened.
I apparently either pissed people off to the point where they were willing to face the Inseparables wrath just so they could shut me up by way of murdering me, or I made them like me so much they were willing to face the Inseparables wrath protecting me.
Both ways were hilarious. Both ways got Treville to shake his head at me and complain I was driving him towards alcoholism. Both ways nearly gave Porthos' weekly heart-attacks. Both ways made Constance hit me with a broom for my 'charm'. Both ways had D'artagnan either joining me with laughing, or yanking me out of the way of a punch. Both ways made Athos join Treville in his office for wine, complaining about the four idiots they had to take care of.
And both ways sometimes ended with Aramis pinning me to the bed and refusing to let me move because 1) I'm apparently giving him grey hairs and 2) I can't get injured if I'm on the bed.
I proved him wrong when I managed to get a two inch long splinter embedded in my palm because during one of my escape attempts, I grabbed ahold of the bedpost and twisted my hand, causing a sliver of wood to dislodge itself from its brethren and take vengeance on me.
Aramis complained his was going to have to 'Rogue-proof' the entire house simply because fate was trying to kill me and, in his mind, I was doing everything I could to aid it.
Either way, I found life fun at the moment, and it was in the heart of winter right now, with frost and snow at every corner, and the smell of woodsmoke floating through every chimney. I was content, and I had also been attempting to teach Aramis how to ice skate, Porthos too. Both of them were hilarious in their endeavors, while D'artagnan and I skated around them effortlessly, and Athos shook his head on the sidelines.
I smirked at the thought, and an icy wind curled up around me, throwing my cloak to the side and causing icy tendrils to strike through my jacket.
Though I loved the cold, I still shivered at the chill running down my spine.
I curled my cloak tighter around myself and walked on.
New story! Yay! Hope you guys enjoy this one, do tell me below, I adore hearing from you, and you can thank one EleanorMusketeer for this chapter... Her bribing powers are too much... Also, just so you know, you can also thank her for the diabetes she is giving me.
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