A/N: So here is the last chapter. I'm sorry it took so long, I know I promised to have it up on New Year, but so it went that it was finished on Easter.
Life got in the way, I found myself finally a job and because of that the end of the story dragged.
I thank lilgenious and my friend for reading it thru. Every mistake that you find are all mine.
But now read and enjoy.
The winter was coming closer; d'Artagnan could smell it in the air. The winter was his favourite season; he yearned for the snow and the warmth of the fire place. And there was Christmas, oh how he loved Christmas. Even thinking about it filled him with warmth. He remembered his childhood, how he had woken up every single Christmas morning to the smell of fresh cinnamon buns. It did not matter if they had had a poor year or not, his mother would treat them as if they were nobles.
Last Christmas he had spent in Gascony with his parents but this year he was to be in Paris with his friends, he knew he would miss his parents but it was a time to grow up. To become the man he should be. He had already heard Planchet talk about Christmas, even though it was still the end of November. He had to laugh at himself, he was standing in front of one of the most terrible taverns in town and he was thinking about Christmas.
"Well, gentlemen, it is time to go in." Athos said calmly, but d'Artagnan could see the anger behind his eyes.
"Fifteen minutes?" Aramis asked, his voice was cold, but his face was calm.
"Yes, fifteen minutes, if everything goes as planned." Athos nodded.
"Well then, let's have some fun." Porthos had a feral smirk glued on his face. Athos nodded, but before he opened the door he turned to his friends, "And remember not to use your swords, take them out if there is no other way." Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan nodded in agreement and they entered the tavern.
D'Artagnan had been to this tavern many times when he had been on patrol duty, breaking up fights, arresting people. Almost every thug in Paris had once found their way to this particular tavern. However, it was too loud and noisy for his taste and d'Artagnan had never understood why some of the guardsmen enjoyed this place. He had never been there for pleasure; and this time was no different. But then again, the business for what they were there could be counted as pleasure.
At the other end of the room, they saw the five Cardinal's guards that they had been looking for, sitting at the table under one window. All four exchanged looks. Athos, Aramis and Porthos went and sat down at a table near the guardsmen, close enough to get noticed, but far enough not to raise any suspicion. D'Artagnan stepped to the bar and ordered a flagon of wine. When he turned around, he saw that the guards had taken notice of them. He took the flagon and sat beside Athos.
"It's about to start," Athos muttered.
He was right, Brun had stood up and stepped towards them, "Well, look who we have here - the musketeers. And they have bought their little musketeer, with them." He sneered. DArtagnan froze, it was the same voice. Others had seen his reaction and got their confirmation through this moment of weakness.
"Brun, would you leave us alone? We don't want anything to do with you." Athos grumbled.
"How far have you fallen, Athos? Associating yourself with an insignificant boy, a dumb giant and a priest who thinks he is a warrior?" D'Artagnan saw how Athos clenched his fists. Brun was the son of a count, Athos had known him once, when he himself had been known as Count de la Fere. But it wasn't Athos who answered.
"You have already been told to leave us alone," Aramis smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant one, "So you better leave, please."
"You aren't anyone, you can't tell me nothing, priest," Brun spat. D'Artagnan saw Aramis raising a questioning eyebrow at Athos, who nodded. D'Artagnan remembered the plan, and it worked. How? He had no idea. Aramis was the one who according to plan was to be the one to start the fight from their side. To show how much the guards were annoying them, Aramis was the calmest of them all.
"I may be thinking of becoming a priest," he raised an eyebrow, "But I'm a musketeer now and musketeers always protect their friends. But you may not know anything about that."
"Watch what you say, priest," Every fibre of Brun was full of hate.
"Or what? Are you going to stab me behind my back?" Aramis hissed. And then everything happened so fast that d'Artagnan couldn't even blink his eyes. If anyone would have asked him later what occurred, in what order even if his life depended on it, he couldn't have answered.
D'Artagnan saw how Brun's fist flew towards Aramis' face, who ducked. The next moment Aramis was up, grabbed the collar of Brun and shoved him to Athos, whose smile was a tight lipped one.
"Athos, is this one of your plans again?" Brun sneered.
"Plans? No, we just came here for a drink; you just made it so much more amusing for us." Athos just shook his head and blocked a hit that was coming his way. "But now I think there is someone else, who would like to talk with you." So he twisted the other man's fist and pushed him towards d'Artagnan.
At that point all the other guardsmen had stood up and attacked Porthos and Aramis, two took on Porthos, one went after Aramis, while the last one jumped towards Athos.
"Well, well, well, little musketeer, it seems, that it is now only us," D'Artagnan raised an eyebrow at that. He was nervous and angry, but he held it under control.
"Yes and this time, you aren't backstabbing me," The boy saw how Brun got infuriated; his face grew redder with a moment. Thankfully he was ready when the hit came he blocked it and returned the attack. If his father had known that at the same time he was teaching to his son the art of gentlemen's fighting – swords – the boy was learning fist fighting from the village boys – the un-gentleman fighting. But d'Artagnan had to smile when his fist slammed into Brun's gut. He knew he had been wrong in his assumption, his father had known everything his son was doing.
"Well, I would have never thought that little musketeers know how to fight like this," Brun sneered; his fist got through d'Artagnan's defences and found the boy's jaw.
"I grew up in the country," D'Artagnan spat the blood out, his teeth had cut into his cheek. He took all the might he had and punched Brun in the face so hard, that the other man fell onto the floor. At that moment the door to the tavern opened and the Musketeers patrol group stepped in. Athos had been right, it took only fifteen minutes.
"All right, everybody freeze," Their leader lieutenant Leroy shouted, but there was no need. D'Artagnan looked around and all his friends had finished their opponents, all were conscious, but had gotten a mighty beating.
"You all are under arrest." Leroy shouted and his men went to grab the guards. He turned to musketeers, "I should have guessed it was you. Athos, you know, I'm not very happy to arrest you."
"Then don't!" Porthos bellowed.
"I can't, it's the protocol," said the lieutenant, "you know that Porthos."
"And you know that according to protocol I can request one thing from you?" Athos smiled.
"Yes and what that would be?" Leroy looked at the Cardinal guards, he raised an eyebrow; he couldn't understand why the other musketeers had to mess with those pieces of scum.
"Take us in front of the King," Athos answered.
"Why should I do that?"
"Because these are the men," Athos didn't need to say more, Leroy's face shone with understanding. Now d'Artagnan understood why Athos had picked that night for their plan, Leroy was intelligent; there was no need to explain anything further.
"Well, that explains it all," fire had appeared in the man's eyes, "well that settles it; we will take them all in front of the King. I think he won't be angry with us when he hears the reason."
"Wait a minute!" Brun stared, but Leroy stopped him, "The decision has already been made. You are being taken to the King."
"May I make a suggestion?" Athos asked.
"You may."
"Send one of your men to get Monsieur de Tréville, they will reach the palace at the same time we will."
"Good idea. Cornett! Go to Monsieur de Tréville's house and explain him the situation and ask him to come to the palace." When the musketeer, to whom the order was meant was out of the door, Leroy turned to others, "Well gentlemen, we are going to see the King."
It took them thirty minutes to get to the palace; the guardsmen tried to escape many times but were always stopped.
King Louis XIII stumped down from the staircase; he was not a happy man, "Can anyone explain to me, what is so important that I had to interrupt my dinner with my beautiful wife." He looked round in the room and his eyes fell on his captain of the musketeers, "de Tréville, explain."
"I cannot sire, I'm as blind in this case as you are." The older man answered. Louis looked around the room again and found Athos, "Athos, can you explain to me what is going on?"
"Well, Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan and I were out on the city and decided to have a drink, so we stepped into the closest tavern. There were five of his Eminence's guards, we didn't mind them. We only wanted a drink, but their leader Brun came to pester us. He insulted us and when Aramis asked him nicely to leave us alone, he insulted him. And then the fight started and ended when Leroy's patrol stepped in." Athos reported this with a calm and stoic face.
"Why do I have a feeling that there is more to this story?" Louis looked at Athos with an amused dingle in his eyes.
"Yes, we suspect that they were the ones who attacked d'Artaganan," Aramis answered.
"Really? Is this so?" the King turned to d'Artagnan.
"Yes, your majesty," d'Artagnan looked at Louis, "I recognized one of their voices, it was the one who is called Brun, he said little musketeer with the same voice and tone as the one who attacked me from behind."
"Oh, and do you have any more...well more substantial proof?" now there was glee on the King's face.
"Yes, if you check, one of them has a mere week old sword wound in his right shoulder and another has a week old flesh wound on his left side," D'Artagnan answered.
"Check them," Louis ordered and watched how his orders were carried out, and as d'Artagnan had said: Pelletier had the wound on the left side and d'Gange had a wound in his right shoulder.
"Well that settles that matter, take them to my study and place a guard in front of it, no one is going to go in or out of the room. I'm going to go and finish my dinner with my queen. When I'm finished, go and ask Cardinal do come to the study, not a minute sooner."
The five guards were lead out of the room, Louis turned to the musketeers, "Well they are all in one piece and alive."
"Yes, your majesty."
"What else I can say to you is that you followed the orders, I should punish you for disturbing the peace, but as you gave me the attackers, it's forgotten. Now get going and don't forget tomorrow you are my personal guard," With that Louis walked away, the four looked after him, they were never the King's personal guard, but then they never expected to get away without any punishment.
They headed to the side door, when d'Artagnan saw a mischievous smile on Aramis face. "Look, where you have fallen, Athos."
"Oh yes," Porthos had gotten on, "you associating yourself with a dumb giant,"
"An insignificant boy," d'Artagnan smiled.
"And a priest who thinks himself a warrior," Aramis concluded
"And what does that make me?" Athos' eyebrow rose.
"A grumpy drunk." When the words had fallen of his lips d'Artaganan understood what he had said. Athos was going to kill him, skin him and bury him where no one could find him.
But Athos threw his head back and laughed like he hadn't laugh in days. Actually d'Artagnan had never seen the older man laugh like that. Porthos and Aramis could not keep their laughter back as well and d'Artagnan could find a power inside him to stop the laughter coming. He felt such a relief, the night had gone exactly the way they had wanted and he felt more part of their group than ever before.
"Let's head home, there should be some wine left," Athos said when he finally gathered himself together.
"Yes, and pester Planchet!" Porthos boomed there was a grin on his face.
They had reached the street when Athos suddenly stopped, "You know, at some point Planchet will have his revenge."
"Ah, and what could he do?" Porthos asked.
"Poison our wine?" was the answer.
"He won't," Porthos declared then thought a little, "or would he? Is he even that smart?"
All four exchanged wary glances, then shook their heads in unison, "No!"
But for the next five days Porthos was nicer to Planchet, every time he wanted to yell at the other man an image of Planchet poisoning his wine or put every God awful thing that Porthos didn't like into is dinner, had stopped him.
Athos had put an end to it when Planchet had gone to him asking if he should call for a physician, because master Porthos was acting strangely. Athos had promised him that he will talk to Porthos. D'Artagnan, who was standing nearby, had held his laughter back; nothing will change in their household.
A/N: This is the end. Maybe soon I write some more musketeer stories.