Chapter 4

"Sympathy for the Devil"

D'Artagnan looked around to get his bearings, but his mad dash had brought him to a part of the grounds that he didn't know that well. A quick glance confirmed that he was quite far from the palace, on the edge of the park as evident from the high wall visible in the distance. Somewhere hereabouts, he remembered, there should be a gate in the wall that led to a road that could be travelled with larger carts that were needed to maintain the grounds, but for appearances sake couldn't be navigated through the park. But it didn't lend itself to a quick escape, since, for one, it was safely locked and, on the other hand, since the Red Guards intent on executing the command implied in the Cardinals wish, had positioned themselves at some distance, but clearly close enough to prevent D'Artagnan from making a run for it.

Accepting his fate for the moment, the Musketeer stepped forward and sat down without any further acknowledgement of Richelieu's rank. The older man glossed over this faux-pas by decidedly not offering any of the water from the carafe. Sweat was cooling on D'Artagnan's forehead from the run and his throat felt parched, but he, in turn, would rather have perished than even think about asking the Cardinal for a single drop of drink.

Silence. The Cardinal let his gaze travel over D'Artagnan, taking in every detail to the point where it made the Gascon feel even more out of place and uneasy than the situation warranted.

"So what is it you wanted to talk about?" he blurted out, shattering the uncomfortable silence.

The Cardinal took his sweet time "I wanted to congratulate you."

It took every ounce of D'Artagnan's will to keep his body from betraying any emotion. An open book to his friends, the Gascon knew that a man skilled as Richelieu would be able to read even the smallest of gestures to glean the answers he sought. Knowing that the man was likely toying with him, made him sick. And angry. And knowing that Richelieu knew…he needed to be stronger than this. And he needed this to be over as quickly as possible.

"Thank you. I can only return the compliment."

"How come?" The Cardinal arched an eyebrow at that, but didn't seem to mind wandering off the topic he had started.

"You're still here. Congratulations." D'Artagnan feigned a relaxed, confident tone "Although it must be quite the sour feeling knowing that you're at the mercy of the one person you intended to obliterate. Just to think that it only takes one word from her…"

"She is indeed merciful and knows when to forgive." The Cardinal interrupted "And who she forgave. I am the first minister of France, a fact that you may choose to overlook in your foolishness, but she, in her wisdom, cannot leave out of the equation. My place is at the King's side. So as you can see, against all your hopes and wishes, I have not been banished from Garden Eden." Richelieu made a gesture encompassing the beautiful park as well as the guards at his disposal, and smiled.

"It wouldn't be much of a paradise if they got rid of the snake, that's true." D'Artagnan's tone was defiant and he could tell that he had again struck a chord with the Cardinal from the indignant hiss that crept into the man's voice. Careful now.

"If this is how you choose to see me… It is quite pointless to stress to the likes of you that in all my actions I hold France's interest at heart, above all else. And a troupe of ignorant, selfish, over-confident "soldiers" who go rogue at any given opportunity is hardly conductive to the welfare of the crown or the people. The Musketeers are nothing but glorified pets the King deigns to keep to amuse himself, but he fails to see that they're doing more harm than good. You and your friends are the prime example of this, meddling in affairs you have no business with, delusions of grandeur included, just because he dubs you an "elite"…"

As if to stop himself from being carried away in his rant the Cardinal raised a hand and gave a tiny wave. D'Artagnan was a little startled when a servant appeared from a gap in the hedge and bowed to Richelieu. A few words from the Cardinal, too low to understand, and the man disappeared again.

"Where were we?" The Cardinal furrowed his brow a little "Ah yes, Biblical references. Not a topic I was expecting to touch upon with you of all people, but it is up to God alone to judge."

"True." D'Artagnan was getting more and more fed up with this conversation. Where was the point of all this? "And I have no doubt that God has a very clear understanding of your merits and your virtues, quite beyond the titles that you have somehow attained here on earth. But I fail to see why you would waste what little time remains to you…" he gave Richelieu a pointed look "…on petty revenge on a handful of people, when there's France's interest at stake. I may suffer from delusions of grandeur, but that's considering myself a tad too important."

"So what's puzzling you is the nature of my game?" A smile curled the old man's lips as he tilted his head ever so slightly "No wonder you fail to see the bigger picture. Let me assure you, my young friend, that I have not run out of moves yet. Your trick with the Queen a few months ago threw me, admittedly, and has set back my plans quite effectively, but I see it as a gambit rather than a check-mate."

Richelieu leaned forward a little, his gaze fastened on D'Artagnan with an intensity that had the skin on the musketeer's back crawl with unease. The cardinal continued, unfazed, and if D'Artagnan had hoped to make him go into more detail on his plans, he was sorely disappointed

"What all this has shown me, in any case, is that I have found worthy adversaries in you. I may have underestimated you at first, but all the pieces are in place now and I'll enjoy winning this parti." Again, that smile "Though I doubt that you'll be available for a rematch, once the game has run its course."

"Are you threatening me and my friends, Cardinal?" D'Artagnan wasn't sure whether to be perplexed, offended or scared.

"Always." With a languid wave of a bony hand, the same servant as before stepped forward, setting two delicate cups on the table. "Drink with me, D'Artagnan, before we part ways again."
The Cardinal picked up one of the cups and apparently expected the musketeer to do the same. D'Artagnan sat, unmoving.
"Come now, don't be like that." Richelieu let the cup sink to his lap and shook his head, as if admonishing a petulant child "Now that I've admitted my respect for you, treated you almost as an equal, you will deny me the courtesy of sharing this chocolat with me? It is something of a guilty pleasure, I'll admit, but I intend to be quite offended if you reject my request." The Red Guards moved a little closer at the Cardinal's words that had been spoken loud enough for them to catch the hint.

D'Artagnan picked up the little cup without much further ado. It felt fragile in his grasp, the porcelain shining in the sun, the dark liquid inside thick, scenting the air with sweetness and the aroma of spices. Cinnamon? Cardamon? D'Artagnan had little experience with cooking and even less love for sugar or chocolate, but if this would finally put an end to this meeting he might as well get it over with.

The Cardinal raised his cup again, took a sip and closed his eyes, obviously relishing the experience. D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and downed the contents of his cup in one gulp. He rose to his feet immediately and placed the cup back on the little plate on the table. He wanted to say something, but the chocolat was still coating his mouth like sirup, sticky sweet, so instead he swallowed thickly, again wishing for some of the water that sparkled in the carafe before him.
The cardinal had meanwhile emptied his own cup and licked his lips. "That wasn't so bad, was it? I am actually glad to see that you're willing to go about things in a more civilized manner. Makes everything so much less…complicated."

The sweetness in D'Artagnan's mouth was suddenly replaced by a bitter taste. The Gascon frowned as he realized that his limbs were shaking and before he could so much as shout or curse the Cardinal for his sudden but inevitable betrayal, his surroundings spun violently and he felt his face connect painfully with the gravel ground.

As darkness encroached sluggishly, giving him a feeling almost as if he was being drowned in a vat of the treacherous chocolat, D'Artagnan strained to remember the Cardinal's words

"Let's take this young man to meet his family."

Thank you, lovely 'Tidia' and 'Guest', for the reviews, this chapter I dedicate to you and 'pain in the mikta', whose review spurred my writing as well! I am so sorry for not updating more regularly, thank you so much for your encouragement and above all, patience! So glad you like it!

Tidia: It really breaks my heart the way Constance and D'Artagnan had to let each other go at the end of Season One, so I kinda put all of that into this scene. He's so young, too, and quite emotional at times, so I felt it was something he might do, be stopped by her voice first and then run away. Glad you like it

Guest: Thank you for your kind words, you made me blush. I've been wanting to write here for ages and I am still finding my style, but I am so glad you think it's worth reading already!

Next chapter might take a bit, sorry for the cliffhanger (Again. Aaaargh. But I love those, myself!)

Bonus round: Spot the quotes. There's a song and a TV-Series I referenced :3