Author's Note: Hey guys...just cleaned it up a bit. The format and all. Nothing major but if you wanna read again... My betas for this POV 3-parter were Heather and Milady De Winter.
Setting: Young Blades Episode #4 'The Exile' after d'Artagnan's rescue.
D'Artagnan's POV
King? He is the blasted King of England. That thought makes me go numb and everything blurs. I feel the manservant cleaning my face. HIS manservant, I think numbly. I hear him ask me what I think of Jacqueline. Think of her? What DO I think of her? She is courageous, strong, intelligent, keeps me on my toes…
"She's a handful," I say aloud.
He laughs and adds, "Or two."
Jacqueline walks through the door as he finishes speaking, and my breath catches inside my lungs. This is the first time I have truly seen her as a woman and not a musketeer in disguise. Her long, curly hair looks soft and lovely and I resist the urge to touch it. Her face, I want to slide my hand across, and her lips… I look away and at the ground to avoid finishing that thought. I feel my face burn and hope it is not obvious.
"Hello, Jacqueline." I savor her name. "Where's your brother? Oh, he must be hiding; I forgot he's an outlaw now." Way to go d'Artagnan that was real nice sounding. Her face falls and she looks away. I feel a stab of guilt and instantly regret my harsh words.
"As are you," she replies coolly, eyes locking on mine strongly as I look away, guilt coming on again. She hates me, way to go.
"You must come to England with us. Jacqueline is going to be my Queen." Panic seizes me. Queen? I look at her, shocked; I feel my heart breaking into a million pieces. She looks away. I feel betrayed somehow. But, I am ONLY the son of the legendary d'Artagnan, what is that to the King of England? She replies about not accepting yet, and I tune in again, hope surging slightly.
"Perhaps you love someone else?" Charles asks her mockingly, making my blood boil. How dare he make fun of her? Her eyes lock onto mine again and the fear of giving my secret away, of her seeing how much I love her, causes me to break the contact and look away. I love her very much. I want her with me always but I know I cannot offer her anything. He can offer her freedom, and I cannot. For that reason, I keep my feelings hidden. Besides, I remind myself, she made it clear how she feels about me.
"D'Artagnan, would you excuse us?" she asks. I do not want to go; I want to hear what she says to him. What she decides, but she asked, and so I obey without question, retreating to my front of sarcasm to hide the tears that are threatening to form.
"Come on, Clive, let's go pick some mushrooms," I say and look at her, savoring her beauty one last time as I can't help but wonder if my chance is gone of ever seeing her again.