Life has been a little interesting of late and this idea has been nibbling at the edges of my brain for a while. I know Dickens may well roll in his grave and I apologise profusely to him and his fans, but his story makes a wonderful basis for playing with the Musketeers once again. I plan to have this out in a few chapters and hope to be done for Christmas.
A Musketeers Christmas Carol
Athos pulled his hat down low over his face and tugged his cloak a little tighter. Snow swirled against the wall in little eddies as the wind had finally dropped off. Drifts of snow heaped up against the buildings and icicles hung from the exposed beams. What little light extended from the tavern door, reflected off their sides and they glistened in the dark. If he had been in a better mood he may have noted the beauty of the scene before him. Instead, he just thought that the snow merely blanketed the dirt of his adopted home. The sourness of the thought made him want to spit, but he refrained from doing so, only because a young lady chose that moment to turn the corner towards him. She shuffled slowly through the snow, her arms clasped tightly around her tiny frame. He couldn't be sure of her age, but would have guessed sixteen or so.
Athos watched as she looked up at him. Her face reflected something akin to fear and he briefly wondered why as he had made no threatening move towards her. As she stepped closer, he noted a deep bruise on the side of her face. Blood had trickled down her cheek, but the cold weather had stopped it in its tracks. Somebody had clearly struck her and he felt anger welling up from inside him. Before he knew what he was doing, he had removed his cloak and stepped towards her. She shied away from him and he paused, unsure what to do.
"I mean you no harm, mademoiselle. I merely thought you look very cold."
The girl stared at the stranger before her. It had been a very long time since anybody had cared what she felt. She looked longingly towards the cloak being offered to her, but hesitated to see what strings were attached to it. After all, most men of her acquaintance expected something in return.
Athos took a step closer and slowly wrapped the cloak around her thin shoulders. He could feel her shivering under his hands as he laced the cloak closed. She dipped her head in appreciation and he saw tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. She screwed them closed and clutched at the edges of the cloak. She finally opened her eyes and looked down at what had been placed around her. Suddenly recognition flashed in her eyes as she took in the royal blue fabric. She gasped as she looked back up and saw kind eyes watching her. The man's breath on her face smelled of wine and she felt a momentary snarl of fear again. It was always the drunks who treated her the worst and the injury to her face had come from just such a man, only an hour earlier. The man in front of her smiled slightly and she felt herself gradually relaxing into the warmth of the cloak. It smelled of horse and tavern smoke and something else. As she pulled it closer around her face she realised it smelled like her father. The realisation hit her harder than she had anticipated as the image of the man who had died so many years ago, danced in front of her face.
Athos watched as the young girl's face screwed up in pain and he wondered if she was injured in any way other than her face. Before he could ask, she schooled her face into a neutral mask before smiling at him.
"Thank you, monsieur. You are most kind. If you would walk with me to my home, I can return your cloak to you."
Athos nodded in agreement and held out an arm for the young girl. She smiled shyly as she grasped hold of his forearm and the two of them headed out into the deep snow once again.
In an effort to alleviate the silence between them, she mentally scrambled for something to say.
"Do musketeers have duty on Christmas day or do you get tomorrow off to celebrate?"
Athos barely contained a scowl at the mention of the day. He had gone to the tavern alone to avoid the Christmas preparations going on around him. He had no interest in the day as it simply brought up too many painful memories of happier times. As happened every year, he requested a duty shift and Treville always obliged.
"I am on duty tomorrow."
The girl nodded silently. Of course the King would still need his men, no matter what the date was. It was not a day for celebrating for her either and she concentrated on keeping her footing in the snow. They continued in silence until she pointed towards a building up ahead.
"That is my door there."
Athos refrained from comment, as the door was nothing more than a latched entryway to a cellar. If that was where the girl lived, then it hardly counted as a home. She was about to unlock the latch when her face distorted in fear. Athos barely had time to turn and look behind him as he took in two men coming towards them.
"You! Stop!"
The girl blanched in fear and Athos had his sword in his hand before he knew it. The two men stumbled towards him in the snow and both of them had daggers drawn. They hesitated beyond range and waited to see who the stranger was.
"Tina! Alain will not allow this! You cannot take work without his knowledge or paying him your dues. Now, get back to the inn!"
Athos pushed the girl behind him as understanding dawned. The two men were hired thugs and the girl behind him was a prostitute. While he could easily understand how they thought he was a client, the idea revolted him. If either of them had been the one responsible for the marks on the girl's face, he would happily return the favour.
"This young lady is under my protection and not going anywhere with either of you."
The older of the two smirked as he twirled his blade in his hand. He glanced across at his partner and shook his head.
"You hear that? She's under his protection!"
Athos watched as the two of them shared a laugh, but he did not move.
"And, ahh, who are you to be offerin' any kind of services to Tina here?"
"My name is Athos, of the King's Musketeers."
The answer was quiet and low and those who knew him, knew that was Athos' most dangerous tone of voice. Unfortunately for them, neither of the men knew him.
"Well Tina, just because your clientele has gone up a notch, don't think you can get out of payin' your dues."
"I am not a client. I am merely escorting the young lady home."
"Lady! She ain't no lady! But I'm guessin' you noticed that."
Athos ignored the comment and motioned for Tina to open her door.
"Time for you to leave, gentlemen."
The threat in the simple comment was crystal clear and the two men began to back away down the alley. Athos still held his sword in clear view and he watched intently as the two men retreated. As they reached the end of the alley, one of them called out again.
"He always collects his dues."
Tina's hands were shaking as she pushed her door open. She began to unlace the heavy cloak draped around her shoulders. Athos waited as she seemed about to speak, but she finally just pulled the cloak free and thrust it towards him.
"Thank you, monsieur. Your kindness is truly appreciated."
He nodded in acknowledgement as he wrapped the cloak back around himself. The young girl was heading into a dark cellar and he felt his heart lurch. Everything in him wanted to take her by the arm and walk her away from the dingy place she called home. He sighed as he knew that it was not possible to save every lost soul in the city and Paris was full of lost souls. Himself included.
The snow clung to his boots as he trudged back up the alleyway, leaving the girl to her fate. The heaviness of his previous mood descended again and he once again remembered why he didn't like Christmas. Too many people tried to force mirth and good cheer over a day that was no different to any other.
He was too caught up in maudlin thoughts and sour memories to notice movement in the shadows until it was too late. He reached for his sword and managed to pull it half way clear of its sheath before the man in front of him laughed at him.
"Consider this, us collectin' our dues!" The smirk on his face became a grin as he looked over Athos's shoulder.
Athos never saw the blow coming that connected with the back of his head and he sank silently into the snow. His last coherent thought was that nothing good ever came out of Christmas any more.