This is an au were Aramis is female so if you don't like please don't read. This first chapter is more of an introduction and the actual story will begin next chapter.
Being a woman in 17th century France was hard. Being a woman musketeer was even harder. All her life Aramis had been told what she was expected to become who she was expected to marry, her whole had been planned out for her since the day she was born. Except aramis had never taken plans well, she enjoyed to unexpected and grew to hate her life as a simple woman in the town she grew up in. So she ran away at 16.
The boys in her town had taught Aramis how to shoot, how to fight for favours. Favours Aramis had always been happy to give out. When her parents found out they were furious. Her father called her a common where while her mother cried. They sent her to the convent two days later but Aramis never made it that far. On the road she and those escorting her camped for the night where Aramis took what provisions and weapons she could carry and disappeared into the night never to be seen again.
The years before joining the musketeers were spent perfecting her sword play until she was as good as any man and her shooting, which was better than any she met. 4 years after running away from home she came to an Inn near Paris where two musketeers were sitting. Most musketeers, while kinder than the red guards, enjoyed the company of women and could be quite rough if they wanted something. Aramis had had too many experiences with this over they years so she was understandably wary of the glances the two men gave her.
When one came over, introducing himself as Marsac, she smiled and politely told him she wasn't interested. Whether he would. Have pursued his want anyway, Aramis never found out as the door to thebtavern burst open with the sounds of gunshot. Cursing, Marsac and the second musketeer got out their pistols while the inhabitants of the tavern ducked under the table. Aramis would have ran then, not wanting the bother of getting involved in a pistol fight if she didn't see one of the men aim their pistol at Marsac. Without thinking, Aramis aimed her own pistol and shot the man. Marsac glanced at her in shock while Aramis smiled back.
After that it was easy for Aramis to get involved, if only to show the two musketeers that women could be as good, if not better, than men. She outmanoeuvred all of the men that came after he except for the last who got a luck cut at her waist, cutting through the material of her corset and drawing blood. Hissing in pain, Aramis pushed the man backwards before finally thrustingbher blade through his heart.
"Easy." Marsac said, gently placing his hands around her waist as he settled her onto the ground. Aramis hissed as he vision doubled. Taking her hand away from her bleeding side, she noticed the cut was deeper than she'd first realised. Without a word, Marsac took of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders as the blackness closed in around her.
2 days later she woke in a foreign room with Marsac sitting by her bed with a stranger standing at the doorway. Pulling the covers up, Aramis sat up hissing at the pain in her side. "Easy, you got a bad cut." Marsac said, warm hands helping her to sit up.
"I'm fine." Aramis ground out as the man in the doorway chuckled. "Who are you?" she asked, trying to divert the attention from herself.
"This is captain Treville of the Kings musketeers." Marsac stated and Aramis felt panic well up. What had she done to gain the attention of the musketeers.
"Marsac could you give us a moment?" Treville asked and Marsac nodded, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. "Marsac tells me you fought well against those men."
"It was easy." Aramis retorted, aware of the edge in her voice.
"They were fully grown men and assassins at that." Treville said. "The way Marsac says it, they would have lost if not for you. And the kings documents with them."
"Men lower their guard around me." aramis replied a small smile playing at her lips. All her life she'd been made hated for what she was so to be praised was something new entirely.
"I can't imagine why." Treville said, a smile playing at his lips. "Do you have somewhere to stay?" he asked and Aramis shrugged. She slept where she could find somewhere and on the times she couldn't she slept on the streets. Not ideal but she'd grown accustomed to it. "Stay here."
"I can't..." aramis started but Treville held up his hand, silencing her.
"You're injured and there is business I want to discuss with you." Treville left the room after this, leaving Aramis in confusion and winder as she watched him go.
Her worry was for new ught however. A week passed and she was healed enough to be allowed to leave her rooms. After this things escalated quickly. She was brought before the king, who Treville had told what she had done in the tavern. With the help of Queen Anne the Captain convinced the king to give Aramis a chance as a musketeer. Less than a year later and Aramis had become the first and only female musketeer if France.
...
Porthos joined the musketeers at, what he thought, 24, 32 years after Aramis. He'd been dubious of the captains offer but had taken it, seeing a way out of the court. With the colour of his skin, Porthos had felt estranged of the other musketeers, who, while not cruel, did not completely treat him as one of their own.
It took one meeting with Aramis to change this. He'd seen her around the garrison a number of times, mostly with Marsac. At first he'd been confused as to why a woman was a musketeer but hadnt said anything, knowing Treville wouldn't say allow her to stay if she was a danger. Aramis was an odd mix, with her long skirts, mens boots and corpses hidden over a man's shirt and leather jacket. The hat on her long brown hair sat at a roguish tilt which matched her playful eyes and lips.
"You have to earn their respect." she said, sitting opposite Porthos with a bowl of Serges stew. "It took me a long time." she continued. "But they will accept you." Before Porthos could say anything Marsac called her over and she disappeared.
It was on a mission with Aramis and the newest recruit Athos that gave Porthos a chance to prove himself. They were ambushed with documents outlining a plot to kill the king. Athos had his sword out and aramismher pistol. Athos was glancing at Aramis uneasily but he wisely didn't say anything about her gender. When the first man came from behind a rock Aramis shot him straight in the heart. A perfect shot.
Afterwards, it was chaos but Porthos would always refer what happened next. Aramis was lying on the floor as one of their assailants climbed on top of her. Without thinking, Porthos tackled him. Except the man had a knife and jabbed it into the bigger man's side. Dispatching them man, Porthos rolled to his feet, only to fall back down as he glanced at the knife sticking out of his abdomen.
Deft hands roamed on his stomach as Aramis bound the world under around the knife with the blue sash she wore. Somehow, they madenit to the nearest Inn, Athos having to mostly carry Porthos there where Aramis could see that his wounds. After that, Porthos was fully accepted into the musketeers.
...
Athos had been lost before coming to the musketeers. Even their, he hadn't been fully present. Treville had seen potential in him, giving him common and sending him on missions mostly with Porthos and Aramis. He grew used to the two, who after the first mission together, battered easily and joked loudly and yet were the two best musketeers in the regiment, not matter their race or gender.
It wasn't until after savoy that Athos came to think of them as family though. Until then, they'd been comrades nothing more but when Aramis returned from savoy a cut in her face and dead eyes that had once been so full of life that Athos joined them fully.
It was 2 weeks after savoy and Athos was making his way to the tavern for his nightly drinks when he heard sobbing coming from Aramis' compartments. Warily, Athos made his way up the stairs where Porthos was standing outside the door a hopeless look on his face. "She won't talk, won't eat. Won't do anything." he said. Porthos had been by aramis' aside since she'd returned and Athos doubted he'd slept in all that time.
"Get some sleep, I'll stay the night." Athos said, gaining a dubious look from protein but the bigger musketeers exhaustion won out as he nodded. Athos slowly made his way into Aramis' rooms only to find her sitting on the bed, her hair falling in her eyes as tears fell down her pale gaunt Face. Without saying award, Athos sat on the bed and gathered Aramis in his arms as he let her cry on his shoulder.
"I lost my brother and my wife." Athos found himself saying in the middle of the night with Aramis' fingers buried in his jacket. "My wife murder my brother and I killed my wife."
"Does it get better?" aramis asked, her voice horse from disuse and crying.
"No, but it becomes bareable." Athos replied.
...
When D'artagnan first met the three musketeers he hadn't known what to think. True he was under the impression that Athos had killed his father at the title of their first meeting but even then he'd been unsure of that being true.
Athos had taken D'artagnans accusation in his stride and the following duel also. Looking back at it, D'artagnan wondered how foolish he'd been to attack Athos who was so much better at swordplay than he. Athos had let him live though and then he'd been arrested but he hadn't argued, just taken it.
Then there was Porthos. Porthos looked like any brute you might find in a dark alleyway, big, tall and D'artagnan had no doubt able to win any fist fight. Except Porthos wasn't like that in the slightest. He was caring and prospective of his friends, only seen with how he helped get Athos out of prison while also helping D'artagnan get his revenge on the man that killed his father.
Finally, there was aramis the lone female musketeer. At first D'artagnan had thought what every other man would think upon seeing Aramis, with her warring features of a delicate female and the men's clothes and weapons. Except D'artagnan was, gladly, proved wrong when she took charge in Athos absence. She was a brilliant fighter, as good as Porthos and Athos but in her own way.
Upon clearing Athos name, the three invited him to a tavern where they spent the night talking and drinking, in Porthos, Aramis and D'artagnans case at least. In the morning, D'artagnan had expected to be sent back to Gascoigne instradnthe three partitioned his joining of the musketeers and somehow Treville agreed.
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