So… since we're a couple chapters into Brotherhood in Shadow and you're still reading, we thought we'd say… THANK YOU for sticking with us and reading on.
It was thanks to Cordelia85 that idealskeptic discovered the amazing world of "The Musketeers" and we're both hooked now, fully. And since we love "The Infernal Devices" and "The Mortal Instruments" (especially Magnus Bane!) too, we couldn't think of anything better than combining the French warriors who are famous in history and literature with the totally fictional Shadowhunters. We hope you agree, at least, a little! And you're here, reading this, so maybe you do!
Since crossovers can be tricky, please ask us any questions you have and we will try to either answer them or better explain things as we write. Feedback of almost every sort is welcomed, appreciated, and loved!
We're having fun and we hope you are too!
D'Artagnan sighs as he follows Athos down an alley barely wide enough for their horses. He was not given a choice about accompanying his would-be parabatai to the Court of Miracles, not that he would have said no to it. But Captain Treville made it an order and Aramis suggested he might get to know Athos better and like him. D'Artagnan is skeptical of this but the worst case scenario seems to be the same as the best case scenario - that they will know if they can work well enough to be parabatai or not. And the Court of Miracles seemed like a neutral sort of place to do it. He dismounts when they reach a courtyard and hangs back while Athos approaches an old man with only one leg.
"Monsieur Athos!" the man cries out happily. "It has been a long time. Where is our friend Porthos today?"
"It's been too long, Philippe," Athos says, shaking the man's hand warm. "Porthos is on assignment at Court today, unfortunately."
Philippe whistles in awe. "At Court? Our Porthos there, imagine."
He nods, waving D'Artagnan forward. "He will visit you soon, I am certain. For today, this is Monsieur D'Artagnan. D'Artagnan, this is Monsieur Philippe and he is a very old friend of Porthos. He will take care of our horses while we conduct our business, will you not, Philippe?"
"I will with pride, Monsieurs." He pushes himself to his feet and hobbles on a wooden cane toward the horses.
"Was he a Musketeer?" D'Artagnan asks as they walked deeper into what he assumes is the Court of Miracles. "At least once a soldier of some sort?"
Athos shakes his head. "He was born without the leg, as far as Porthos knows, so he could never been a soldier. He has the Sight, however, so he lives here. He helped raise Porthos here."
The younger Musketeer starts in surprise. "A Shadowhunter was raised in the Court of Miracles?" he says, staring up at the close buildings with laundry hung from one window the next and catching sight of brightly colored Seelies skirting the end of the alley.
"He was. He still comes here when he can and helps those he knew then."
D'Artagnan thinks it's a little strange, then, that he and Athos are hunting yin fen dealers in the Court of Miracles while Porthos is at Louis' Court at the Louvre and, before he can stop himself, he says so.
Athos gives him a weary look. "Of course he cannot investigate crimes being committed here. Would you investigate your own family? Arrest them and take them away to prison while other members of your family watch? I think not."
Knowing that he was wrong to even think such a thing, and embarrassed that he said it to Athos, he shakes his head and tries to change the subject. "Is there anything specific I should know or am I just following your lead?"
"There is evidence that the werewolves are buying the yin fen from the ifrits. The werewolves live at the furthest edge of the Court, near the Bois de Boulogne. We will go there and see what there is to be seen." Athos keeps a quick pace as he turns corner after corner in the maze of streets and alleys and, when the younger man says that they are not looking for the ifrits because they fall under the control of the High Warlock of Paris, as non-magical warlocks, he nods in appreciation. "Yes, exactly. The goal today is to find evidence of yin fen being dealt in Downworld, evidence that the ifrits are behind it. We present that evidence to the High Warlock of Paris…"
"And if he does not act on it, we will have to move in and kill the ifrits to stop the trade."
Athos makes a noise of agreement. "Yes. Now, as to your original question, follow me but follow your instinct as well. I want to see how you do."
D'Artagnan can't help but think of this as praise, or at least trust - whichever is most likely from Athos. He vows to himself that he will not disappoint and he stands beside Athos instead of behind him when they reach the edge of the hunting grounds that are the Bois de Boulogne. He watches as a very tall man with a long beard and matted hair tied back with a piece of leather emerges from the shadows and demands to know their business there.
"Clave business," Athos says almost lazily. "And you should thank us for it."
"Why would I do that? Nephilim always think Downworlders ought to be grateful. We aren't."
Sensing that the man is mostly putting on a show, and worried that he'll get carried away with it, D'Artagnan crosses his arms over his chest and tries to bring the werewolf, who he assumes is the pack leader, back to the point. "You're having a problem, aren't you? With your pack and drugs?"
"How'd you know about the yin fen?" he exclaims, before seeming to realize D'Artagnan hadn't mention which drugs. He scowls at both men and then sighs. "Yeah, I've got a problem with it. What are you going to do about it?"
"Stop the problem," Athos says dryly. "Obviously."
"Before you start a war with the Children of Lilith," D'Artagnan adds, betting on that being what the pack leader had in mind.
He growls, again showing that he had been caught out. "I've got a whole pack and the warlocks and ifrits are a handful. It wouldn't be a problem."
Athos sighs. "It would. You would lose. Magnus Bane has returned to Paris."
This changes the pack leader again and he stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Oh. Fine, then. What are you going to do about it?"
"Have you confiscated any yin fen?" Athos asks. "If you have, turn it over to us now and save us the trouble of searching your headquarters for it. When we have it, because I know you have it, we will trace it to it's source and stop the problem there."
"By killing the ifrits? Or at least driving them from the city?"
D'Artagnan rolls his eyes at how easily the pack leader falls back into letting the Nephilim do his work for him. He doubts this leader will be leader for long. "Rest assured, sir, that we will do everything in our power to stop yin fen from entering Paris and harming Downworld and the Nephilim alike. That is all you need to know at this point."
The man whistles and two other men appear, sharing a word with their leader before they disappear again. They return minutes later with a wooden box and set it on the ground in front of Athos. "Those are containers the stuff came in," the pack leader says. "Maybe traces of the drugs. I don't know. It's what I have."
Athos lifts the box and nods. "If there is a spike in it or any more trouble before we sort this out, tell Philippe to contact the garrison and we will return."
D'Artagnan follows Athos back through the alleys and streets, nervous that he did something wrong but trying not to read too much into the other man's silence. Especially since silence seems to be his favorite way to communicate. He helps strap the box to Roger, Athos' horse, and mounts his own while Athos gives Philippe coins for his service.
Only when they are in the wider, more well-to-do streets of Paris did Athos speak. "You did well with the pack leader," he says, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "You read his body language well and kept him off guard. Your instinct is strong."
Trying not to let the praise make him smile, D'Artagnan nods. "Thank you."
D'Artagnan can barely believe it. It seems to easy, and he suspects it probably is. He tries to think of what to say, and is sort of relieved when the noises of the crowd the find themselves in give him time before he has to answer.
Porthos is standing beside the Queen, Aramis at his side and the only thing he is thinking right now is about killing his parabatai. But Aramis is right, for once, he is the best choice for this job. He doesn't have connections between the Palace walls, he's not reckless and young and, the most important thing, he won't fall in love with one of the Queen's ladies in waiting, or worse, the Queen herself. The Queen's voice draw his attention and he concentrates on it.
"Sire, I'd like to retire to my apartments, if it's not an inconvenience," she whispers in the King's ear.
"Of course not, my love. It's been hours and I think my son is tiring you. May Rochefort escort you?" he says pointing to his advisor.
"No, Sire, thank you. Monsieur Porthos could bear to do alone this job," she says curtseying slightly.
The King stands and helps his wife descend the dais, while Porthos and Aramis look each other .
"Go, I'll stay here with the King," Aramis says, smiling. Porthos nods and follows the Queen out of the throne room.
"So, Captain Treville told me about your plan. He doesn't trust Rochefort and he needs someone inside to keep an eye on him," the Queen says as soon as they are alone in her rooms. She convinced her ladies to leave her, saying that Porthos would be enough protection.
"Well, Your Majesty, it's a little bit complicated than that." Porthos shifts uncomfortably from a feet to the other.
"Please, enlighten me," she continues, sitting at the end of her bed. Porthos doesn't know how much the Queen knows and he doesn't want to reveal too many things if she doesn't know anything. The Queen misinterpret his expression and, alarmed, she exclaims, " He isn't a demon doesn't he?"
"What? No! No, Your Majesty, but he's planning something against us and we are only concerned about your safety and your husband's," he explains, coming closer to her.
She sighs deeply, rubbing a hand on her bump and Porthos reduces the distance in two strides. He kneels, taking her hands in his and, looking up, he swears to say the truth no matter what, and to protect her and her baby, from mundane and Shadow World threats. She smiles at this display of affection, knowing that he said those things because it's his duty to save the royal family from any form of threats, but she is surprised too because she never expected that this big, intimidating musketeer could be so sweet.
Porthos stands and excusing himself, he returns to his original place, near the door.
The Queen nods and she decides to lay on the chaise lounge, reading. The silence doesn't last long and after a while she puts her book aside and she addresses Porthos again.
"Can I ask you something, Monsieur Porthos?"
"Of course, Your Majesty," he says.
"Why you? I know it's Captain Treville who assigns the mission but I don't understand why he chose you," she asks, looking interested.
Porthos takes a deep breath, knowing he won't like this conversation. "It's because of my background,"
The Queen looks at him, curious about what he means, but not wanting to break this confession with questions.
"I don't have the same background as my brothers. I grew up in the Court of Miracles. Some think that only poor people live in those barracks, but most of the Downworlders are there. I grew up living next to a werewolf or a fairy, or even a vampire. I learnt to be invisible and soundless, even without a rune for that. And even if mundanes know, they can't see us if we glamour. So, with or without a rune or two to help me in this mission, Captain Treville knows I'm the right person." he finishes, returning motionless a few moments later.
Satisfied, the Queen picks up her book again leaving Porthos in peace. For today.
"I'm fucked," Porthos growls when he and Aramis are heading to the garrison that night.
"Why this coloured expression, my friend?" his parabatai asks looking ahead.
"Because, I fucked this whole mission up before starting it and I even don't know how!" He grips the reins in frustration.
"Did you tell Rochefort everything? I don't think so. So why do you look like one who just lost his cat?" Aramis asks, looking at him sideways.
"It's the Queen. She's so sweet and understanding, that I don't know how to behave in her presence. And she knows who we are," he complains.
"Ah, our lovely sovereign is so sweet and smart that she already hit the target," his friend answers dreamily.
"Shut up! She didn't hit any target. She was only worried about her son and maybe us, but that's enough," Porthos snarls back. He is trying to convince himself too. He doesn't know what happened with the Queen when they were alone in her room, but he doesn't like it. Her reaction when she thought Rochefort was a demon, his action afterwards, aren't a simple interaction between a Queen and her guard. It's something more. And Porthos doesn't want to discover what this more is.
Aramis watches his friend with concern, deciding between mocking him again or shutting up until they reach the garrison. He opts for the second and he keeps an eye on him the entire trip.