Thanks for all the awesome reviews and feedback you guys have been sending my way x If I could give you all hugs I would, but I can't, so please settle for imaginary hugs and invisible cookies! Anyway, hopefully this chapter makes you smile. It's shorter than the others and could be viewed as a follow up to last chapter or an entirely different event altogether. It was originally going to be called 'A Day In the Life of Athos' but I changed my mind x Anyway, enjoy and please tell me what you think!
The Parade
The palace grounds were bustling with activity as the nobility of France with all their gold, silk and finery walked down the gravel pathway in the sweltering heat toward the awning under which the King and Queen sat in their magnificent thrones, the crib of the newly born Prince of France between them. The little pink babe was swaddled in expensive white and cream silk, trimmed with lace and donned in a pale bonnet to protect his bald head from any rays of sun that may bypass the awning above the royal family. Servants walked behind their masters and mistresses, heads bowed, either shading the grandees with intricately patterned parasols or carrying large, precious gifts in heavy oak chests.
The noblemen and women approached the raised platform where the King and Queen were seated and after a short conversation including an enthusiastic congratulations and a lot of 'sucking up' to get the King's favour before the expensive gifts of beautiful metals and jewels were offered. The royal couple took them with pleasant smiles and words of gratitude, Anne's finger clasped in a tiny, soft grip of the imperial infant as Louis shook hands and showed off his radiant wife and healthy son, remarking of course to the similarities in the shape of his nose and the warmth his eyes.
Along the busy line of aristocrats and their households, the majority of the Musketeer garrison was stood out in the stifling summer heat under the blazing sun, dressed in their full uniform and leather pauldrons. Among them were the four best Musketeers in the regiment, stood just beside the dais so they could keep a close watch on the three sovereigns of France. Stiff and stoic, they stood perfectly still and at attention as people moved past, eyes trained ahead as they waited and looked for any signs of danger. The heat caused perspiration to appear on their brows and made their clothes feel sticky and uncomfortable, mouths dry and eyes itchy. Almost two hours into the ceremony, the celebrations were still continuing but the heat had not dissipated, rather intensified in fact, and the four men were growing steadily more frustrated.
Aramis was subtly watching the young man beside him as d'Artagnan swayed slightly, face flushed and a smile tugged at his lips. D'Artagnan, struggling to fight back his nausea and increasing dizziness, caught sight of the slight twitch and shot him a glare.
"What are you laughing about?" he whispered harshly, careful to make sure Treville was distracted by the other guests.
"I'm just waiting for you to faint."
"I will not faint!"
"Every Musketeer faints during a parade." Aramis grinned and gave d'Artagnan his usual fake-innocent glance "It's like a rite of passage. Plus, I'm a medic, I know the signs."
"Signs of what? Fainting?"
"Shhh!" Porthos interrupted before Aramis could reply "Do I have to remind you what the Captain did last time he caught us talking during one of these things?"
Aramis gritted his teeth at the memory and he looked toward the heavens almost pleadingly "I don't think I'll ever forget. It is a brand upon my memory."
"What did he make you do?" D'Artagnan hissed worriedly, facing paling slightly as he glanced nervously back to the steady form of their Captain.
"Quiet, d'Artagnan." Athos admonished, eyes narrowed against the harsh sunlight as he stared ahead, face impassive "Unless you wish to find out from first-hand experience."
Aramis turned his head slightly sharply to face d'Artagnan before remembering subtlety "Don't you dare! Treville would probably punish us for being bad influences."
"You were the one who started it!"
"No, I didn't! You talked first!"
"Yeah, but you were laughing!"
"I was not!"
"You were! You admitted to it!"
"Was not!"
"You so were, you lia-"
"Children!" Athos' rough reprimand was enough to silence them as they glanced back toward the eldest Musketeer as Porthos has his chin to his chest and was pathetically trying to disguise his childish giggling as a violent coughing trick "I don't care who started it but you're going to stop it before you end up wrestling on the floor. How could you have possibly been made Musketeers?"
"Sorry, Athos." Both men bowed their heads with a slight blush, looking all the more like scolded youths as they shuffled their feet awkwardly.
Porthos cleared his throat, eyes still twinkling with merriment before tilting his head a little in the direction of the platform "I do believe we have an audience."
Four pairs of eyes slid toward the two thrones, where the Queen was watching them with an amused gleam in her eye, her child now cradled in her arms as King Louis was distracted by a pot-bellied nobleman and his sour-faced wife. Anne offered a small twitch of her lips, eyes sparkling with joy and gave a slight nod that could only have been interpreted as gratitude, most likely relieving some of her increasing boredom and fatigue at the tiresome affair.
"Seems Her Majesty is amused by your immature playful antics." Athos commented drily, flexing his neck to the side to remove some of the stiffness in his limbs and allow a trickled of sweat drip down beneath his shirt.
"Who's talking on parade now, Athos." Aramis mumbled accusingly, all the while shooting the Queen a discreet, charming grin that could make any woman's heart melt.
Porthos gnawed on one lip to conceal a smile "I want to know who started this whole, dangerous conversation in the first place."
Aramis' and d'Artagnan's fingers jumped slightly from their sides simultaneously to face each other before narrowing their eyes when they saw each other's betraying gesture.
"Aramis, started it! He was giggling about the thought of me fainting!"
"I did not! I'm older than you, I wouldn't dream of doing something so childish."
"Maybe you're becoming senile and forgetful in your old age, Aramis."
Aramis' jaw dropped in horror as he narrowed his eyes at the boy beside him before remembering to conceal the dramatic gesture "I am not old! You're just an overgrown baby—can't even grow a moustache!"
"Overgrown baby?! I'll have you know that I ladies love the clean shaven look!"
Aramis scoffed immaturely "Makes you look like a twelve year old."
"Shut up!" Athos sighed in frustration and ground his teeth "Aramis, you're not old. D'Artagnan, you do not look twelve. And Porthos, stop antagonising them. You're giving me a headache, so can we please be quiet before my day gets any worse?"
There was a crunch of boots on the ground as a shadow fell across the four and they all stiffened and stared straight ahead as Treville stood before them, lips a tight line and face serious.
"I expect you see at dawn tomorrow, Athos, to muck out the stables and scrub down the horses and their tack." The Captain's voice was clear and cut like steel, tone leaving no room for argument "I expected more from you, you are meant to be teaching the newer Musketeers by example." His eyes flickered to d'Artagnan's face before continuing, voice laced in disapproval "I cannot have my best being so unruly as to talk during a royal parade. Let's see this does not happen again. Do I make myself clear?"
"Of course, Captain. I will see to it I do not make the mistake again." Athos' voice was bland, face impassive as the three Musketeers glanced guiltily at each other with a slight wince.
"Good." Treville murmured as he moved back toward the platform to stand this time by the Queen's side.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Athos groaned painfully and growled "You just had to make go and make it worse. I was innocent."
"…Er, 'Thos?"
"What is it Porthos? Athos sighed, resigned to his fate as the King finally stood and completed the ceremony, thanking all his guests and leading the way back toward the cool confines of the palace's great hall to be wined and dined.
"D'Art doesn't look so good."
Sure enough a couple of seconds later there was a thump as a very flushed Gascon hit the ground, his three brothers rushing around him as Aramis gave a gleeful yelp of: "I told you so!"
