Thanks so much to everybody who commented last time, it's greatly appreciated! Since the general consensus was for me to write more, I gave it a shot today. Because there were two requests to see what happened to Aramis after he couldn't figure out the handkerchiefs last time, I wrote a follow up, hope it meets your expectations! :P

Main characters include our beloved musketeers, Felton, Buckingham, Richelieu, Mordaunt and Treville with a small mention of Raoul and Milady.

Enjoy!


His heart beating wildly, Aramis slammed the door behind him, bolting it with frantic fingers; he was panting heavily and his eyes darted left and right. His friends watched with curiosity as he ran into the kitchen and grabbed the heavy table, pulling it back to the door. Only once he was sure nobody would manage to get inside did he rest against the barricade. D'Artagnan and Porthos laughed at the priest in torn clothes and the myriad of scratches covering his body.

"You got attacked by a tiger?"

"Worse, women."

"I knew they would be your death one day."

XXX

Such a fool for trusting her. Why didn't he listen to his Lord when he warned him about that vile creature? Why did he allow his own passion for his faith to cloud his mind, his judgement? He had been too aware of her womanly advances but she used against him his only true weakness. He had killed Buckingham, that spawn of devil, for her and for the rest of the Puritans, only to see that she had a different agenda. Now when he was caught and about to be executed as she left him behind, he realized his error.

XXX

D'Artagnan was positive that his eyes would never see the same as he was blinded by the abysmal colour scheme of Porthos' new clothes; he had never seen so many bright colours together in one place. But there his friend stood, in all of his orange, green, pink, purple, blue, red and yellow glory. And those were just the pants; the jacket and the goblet were absolutely hideous. Aramis and Athos weren't doing any better since the former shrieked when he looked up from his Bible and the latter choked on his wine. Unanimously, they swore to kill the tailor.

XXX

Buckingham had a new hobby. As much as it was enjoyable to make fun of Louis or Richelieu when he knew that nobody could touch him, it was much more fun to taunt the musketeers. He couldn't let the opportunity to ridicule them slide as he saw them kneeling when he passed by. Athos raised those oh so expressive eyes at him in defiance, promising retribution the first moment he and his fellow musketeers got a chance but Buckingham didn't think much of it. He was rich, he was powerful, and he was the King's favourite. Nobody could touch him.

XXX

Several years ago, Aramis and Porthos had chosen a random day and dubbed it Women Appreciation Day. It didn't matter what they were supposed to do, they always made sure that nothing could stop them from following the tradition. On that day every year, they took special care to spend extra time with their lovers, mistresses and any other willing women, doing everything for the ladies without getting anything back for themselves. Of course they would reap the rewards during the next few months but on that day, every woman had a bright satisfied smile on her slightly flushed face.

XXX

During his life, Richelieu had earned many nicknames among his followers and enemies and now when he felt the end coming closer, he wondered what kind of legacy he was leaving behind. Would they remember him as a tyrant who didn't mind getting rid of his opponents sneakily as his spies revealed what his next target was doing? Or would they remember a strong man who did his best to be a leader when their own King didn't measure up to the task? A cunning man or a coward? A strong personality or a whimsical cardinal? He would never know.

XXX

His hard years as a soldier taught D'Artagnan to suppress nostalgia and strong emotions but even the veteran musketeer couldn't help the feelings in his chest and belly when he watched his friends with Raoul. Aramis and Porthos were taking turns sparring with him, each one presenting an opponent with a very different set of skills and weaknesses, all the while giving the boy hints on how to improve. Athos was observing it all with the sharp eye of a parent, adding his own knowledge while making sure they didn't hurt his boy. Immediately, D'Artagnan was transported back in time.

XXX

He would get them, if it was the last thing he did. They had taken everything from him, his birthright, his name, his inheritance, his mother. He didn't care why, didn't care for what she might have done to meet such an end. He wanted revenge, satisfaction. He had killed the executioner, his uncle and he even managed to kill the King without any blame. He was so close, only the four left. The four that had crowned themselves jury and set everything into motion. He hated them, despised them. He wouldn't stop before he spat on their dead bodies.

XXX

Sometimes, Athos wondered why Aramis and Porthos bothered with him. He was hardly pleasant company as he drank his troubles away, preferring peace and quiet over their loud joie de vivre, despising women that they so loved. His coldness could be interpreted as animosity, his persona able to crush any joyous evening.

And yet, they wouldn't leave him. They would get exasperated with him sure, but they never left. Aramis once explained that they knew better. That they knew that below the mask of pain and melancholy, he was a loyal, caring and attentive friend they could always count on.

XXX

Two weeks without anything going wrong, Treville was feeling like a rejuvenated man. It was as close to a vacation as he had had in the last few years and he enjoyed every minute of it. But with each passing day, he knew this paradise was getting closer and closer to an end. The Inseparables would return to Paris soon and with them, the number of musketeers and Cardinal guards' fights would rise, the injuries count of his men would triple and every other day there would be a new emergency demanding his attention. It was nice while it lasted.