Chapter 7

Athos ducked as a sword was thrust toward his neck, barely able to avoid the blade. The Duke's men fought well, despite the abruptness of the attack and the unequal numbers. He pivoted and pushed forward, parrying another thrust, his main gauche finding a target, sinking into the warm flesh of his opponent. The Duchess' well trained men quickly dispatched the guards present in the main entrance of the estate house. Athos scanned the room, noting the Duke was not among the fallen.

A clash of blades, followed by a scream wafted through the corridor, and his eyes focused on the stairwell at the far end of the room.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Porthos led them back into the hallway, his head swiveling, eyes peering down one direction then the other. There was no way to ascertain which way Aramis would've gone, either direction leading to connecting hallways with no way of knowing where they ended. He squared his shoulders and closed his eyes, listening for any indication as to which way to go.

"We could split up," d'Artagnan suggested, recognizing their dilemma.

Porthos opened his eyes and shook his head. "No. We stick together. We're of no use to Aramis if we get separated and taken prisoner ourselves." His took a deep breath, his eyes dropping to the floor, narrowing as a dark drop of blood caught his attention. His gaze followed the drop, finding another and another, smiling grimly as he recognized it for the trail it was.

"This way," he said with a grunt. He took off to the left, d'Artagnan following without question.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Savoy smiled, his eyes hard, a glint of madness shining in the low light of the hallway. He raised his sword menacingly, dropping his shoulder into a formidable stance. "You are a man of many surprises, Musketeer."

"More than you know."

The Duke's eyes flicked to Anne, noting her grip on Aramis' arm before returning his gaze to the marksman, his grin sordid. "I can see that." He bowed his head to the Queen. "I'm sorry you had to be a party to this, Your Majesty, but you were a means to an end."

"Lower your sword at once, Victor," Anne said forcefully. "There is no sense in continuing the farce. I will solicit the King to show you mercy for the sake of your wife and sons."

Savoy laughed disdainfully. "As much as I love my dear wife, I've known for quite some time where her loyalties lie. Having her here, tied to me was the one secret pleasure I could hold over that imbecile husband of yours."

Anne gasped at his words.

"Don't act so surprised." The Duke moved to his right, his eyes on Aramis, noting the pain that showed on the wounded man's face. "I'm not as much a fool as Louis believes. I know Cluzette still languishes inside a Paris prison, and I will one day prove the Cardinal's duplicity in the matter. Until then, I will have to suffice in knowing I was able to defeat the King's elite Musketeers from impugning my honor with nary a scratch once again. I'm sure the loss all those years ago pained His Majesty, did it not? Or did he give it no more consideration than losing one of his hunting dogs?"

Aramis growled deep in his throat, not wanting to give the Duke the pleasure of witnessing his torment at the memory. "You murdered good men in their sleep. There was no honor in such a victory."

"I suppose it is all in your perspective."

"Let us pass," Anne ordered, fear apparent in her voice.

The Duke snorted in amusement. "This is Savoy, Your Majesty. You do not rule here."

He lunged forward, knocking his blade against Aramis', forcing the wounded man to shift his weight onto his bad leg, off balance. It took every ounce of energy the Musketeer had to defend himself from the powerful thrust. Anne screamed his name as he faltered momentarily, the panic in her voice lending him strength.

The sounds of fighting from below began to echo up the stairwell.

"Your men will not be able to stand against Musketeers fully ready for battle," Aramis taunted, praying it was Athos leading the charge below. He knew his friends would not have been able to summon reinforcements from Paris in such a short time, but they were resourceful and he had no doubt they would be able to amass a force equal - if not superior - to the Duke's. "You will die for your deceit."

"If I die, be that I take you with me."

Aramis' blood ran like ice through his veins. He pushed aside the weakness of his body, forcing his hand to steady, his focus completely on the man before him. The Duke may have the advantage in strength at the moment, but Aramis was a Musketeer, and he drew upon his training and experience to staunch the dread this man invoked within him. "You tried that once. You will no more succeed now than you did then." Aramis circled to his right, drawing the Duke away from Anne, toward the open landing of the stairwell. He raised his sword, putting all his effort into keeping it from trembling.

Savoy's face clouded in disbelief, his voice mocking. "Your bravery recommends you, Musketeer, but wounded and feverish, you are no match for my sword."

"Then perhaps you'll want to try me."

Savoy turned abruptly at the new voice to find Porthos, standing tall a few arms lengths away, his eyes dark with anger, schianova at the ready, steady and true.

Aramis felt relief crash through him at the sight of his friend. He gave Porthos a welcoming nod, smiling as one side of the larger man's mouth quirked in return. D'Artagnan quietly moved from behind Porthos toward the Queen, quickly taking her arm and leading her to safety further down the hallway. Aramis was pleased to see the Gascon well despite his harrowing experience.

"Or perhaps you would care for a rematch?"

Aramis' smile widened feeling Athos brush against him as the older Musketeer stepped up onto the landing. Savoy's head swiveled, his brows furrowing in rage, his breath huffing from his nose. Athos took two steps forward, deftly positioning himself between the Duke and his wounded comrade, his eyes cold, his rapier threatening.

"I gave your wife my word we would attempt to take you alive," Athos informed him. "The choice is yours."

The sounds of fighting downstairs ceased, the Duke's men defeated, the only noise in the hallway the harsh rasp of Aramis' breathing.

Finally Savoy lowered his weapon, his eyes narrowing as he glared past Athos at the wounded Musketeer. "I will see you dead."

"Perhaps," Aramis conceded, not allowing the Duke to see how much that thought disturbed him. "But not today."

Porthos moved, yanking the sword from the nobleman's hand, tossing it back down the hallway, the clanking of steel on stone echoing off the walls. Sheathing his own weapon, he gave the Duke a push, nearly knocking the man from his feet. "Get moving, Your Grace." He didn't hide his contempt at the title, latching a meaty paw on the Duke's shoulder, steering him past Athos and Aramis and down the stairs. As he passed his friend, Porthos allowed his other hand to pat him softly on the stomach. Aramis let his eyes close in contentment at the touch.

As soon as the Duke was out of sight, Athos turned to Aramis, one brow raised, and calmly assessed the younger man's condition.

"You've looked better."

Aramis huffed a laugh and hunched his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his chest as his aches began to protest in earnest.

Athos directed his attention to the Queen as she made her way toward them, accompanied by d'Artagnan.

"Are you well, Your Majesty?"

"I am unharmed," Anne assured him, her eyes showing her relief. "Thank you for your timely rescue, Athos."

"I had it all in hand," Aramis mumbled indignantly.

She smiled, moving to his other side and laying a hand on his arm. "I have no doubt you would have been victorious, Aramis." She let her eyes roam his body, her brows high, pointedly noting the bloodstained rag on his leg and the pained hunch of his shoulders. "Still, it is fortuitous your friends saw fit to assist."

Aramis grunted as he tried to put pressure on his leg, reaching out and grasping Athos shoulder for support as his strength began to wane. "I suppose a bit of help was not unwarranted." He glanced up at Athos and smiled wearily. "You have my undying gratitude."

Athos nodded, a fond look in his eyes. "The undying part is appreciated." He shifted subtly so that he was taking more of the wounded man's weight. "Can you walk?"

"Not gracefully."

"I'll pretend not to notice."

Anne giggled at the men's banter and squeezed Aramis' arm. "His fever has been rising," she reminded them. "I believe the sooner we have a physician look at the wound, the sooner he will be back to his normal charming self."

Athos leaned forward to catch her eye. "Is that supposed to be encouraging?"

She laughed. "One would assume."

"Are you comin' down or do you need someone to carry 'im?"

They all chuckled as Porthos' voice echoed up the stairwell.

"I suppose we should get moving before Porthos grows impatient." D'Artagnan suggested.

Aramis took a deep breath, steeling himself for the pain he knew was to come. He draped his arm over Athos' shoulder and felt the older man wrap an arm around his waist. "Then let's not keep the man waiting."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

The Duchess of Savoy would not speak to her husband when they returned to the estate, instead, asking her lieutenant to escort him to a room in the far wing and make sure he stayed there until further notice. While the lieutenant was reluctant to take charge of the Duke, he followed his orders, a few of his men trailing behind.

"We will escort him to Paris as soon as Aramis is able to ride," Athos assured her. He was hesitant to trust her where her husband was concerned, knowing she loved him despite her loyalty to Louis and France, but he of all people knew what it meant to condemn someone you once loved and he couldn't help wanting to ease her burden considering her delicate condition.

"My brother will be very angry," the Duchess sighed. "There is little love between Victor and the King."

Aramis had explained the Duke's plan briefly before being taken under the care of the Duchess' physician. Athos had been mildly impressed with the scope of the man's schemes, and more than thankful the plot had not come to fruition. To court harm upon the Queen to cause political upheaval was eerily reminiscent of Cardinal Richelieu and Athos would not condone such underhandedness again. The Comte de Rochefort's influence over Louis was proving to be enough of a challenge to Treville and the Musketeers at the moment, another hand stirring the pot would only prove disastrous.

"I'm afraid His Majesty will not look favorably upon your husband's dealings with Cornwall. And the threat to the Queen can only be construed as treason."

The Duchess shook her head sadly. "I will speak to Louis on Victor's behalf, but I will abide by his decision." She looked up at him, her eyes filled with regret. "There is no excuse for the suffering he has brought to Anne nor your friend. I want you to know I do not condone his actions."

Athos nodded, convinced of her sincerity. "I have sent word to Paris. An escort will be dispatched immediately. I will attempt to persuade the King to delay a decision until your child has arrived and you are able to stand at your husband's side. – although it may be difficult."

She smiled. "I would be most grateful for the attempt, Monsieur."

They had been conversing in the foyer, awaiting word on Aramis' condition and both turned as the door near them opened and Anne stepped out to join them.

The Duchess immediately went to her sister-in-law and embraced her. "I am so very sorry for all you have been through, my sister." She stepped back, holding the Queen at arm's length, her expression stricken. "If I had but known –"

"Do not fret," Anne gave her a smile. "I am unharmed and Aramis will be fine." She turned to nod assuredly to Athos. "The ball was removed safely and the physician says the infection is under control." She tilted her head toward the still open doorway. "D'Artagnan and Porthos are already inside waiting for you."

Athos nodded cordially to both women and excused himself to join his brothers.

"Are you truly all right?" Christine inquired as soon as they were alone. "I couldn't bear to think anything had happened to you on my account."

Anne took her hands, holding them between them. "I am fine. I assure you."

"And your Musketeer?"

Anne took a deep breath, her smile faltering. "Aramis… he is brave and loyal. He has suffered much in the service of the King, but he has always come out the better for it."

"Athos informed me he survived the assault that secured my safety all those years ago. I owe him my thanks at the very least."

Anne nodded and squeezed her sister's hands. "We both owe him much more than that. But he will not accept it for having done his duty." She took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around the pregnant woman. "Come, you need your rest. And I want to hear all about this little one."

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Athos slipped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Aramis was lying on the large bed, propped up by a small mountain of ornate pillows, his leg bandaged and elevated. His eyes were closed and his face was pale, but he seemed relaxed, breathing easily.

D'Artangan leaned against the far wall, arms wrapped around his torso, his gaze trained out the window. Porthos sat at the foot of the bed, relaxed against the dark wooden footboard, his hand wrapped around Aramis' ankle. Both men shifted their gaze to him as he quietly stepped toward the bed.

"Will he live?" Athos asked dryly.

Porthos chuckled, "He'll live, but he may never dance again."

"Give me a week and I'll be as graceful as ever." Three sets of eyes moved to the wounded man. Athos smiled as he approached, relieved to see Aramis' eyes open and lucid despite the fine sheen of sweat upon his brow. He laid a hand across his friend's forehead, pleased at only finding a slight warmth radiating from his skin.

Aramis shifted, looking down at his leg, a frown marring his face.

"Are you in pain?" Athos asked, concerned.

Aramis shook his head. "Nothing I can't handle." He reached down and rubbed at the spot just above the bandage. "The Duchess' physician has little experience with battle wounds. This will probably scar."

Porthos grinned. "Wasn't it you who said every scar tells a story that will captivate a woman's heart?"

"It was, but I was speaking more for your benefit, my dear Porthos. I am quite capable of captivating hearts without injury." He gave his friend a cheeky smile, sinking back into the pillows with a sigh.

"I have sent word to Paris, asking for an escort for the Duke."

Aramis opened his eyes and gazed at his friend in confusion. "I assure you, Athos, with a day's rest I will be more than capable –"

Athos held up a hand, halting the marksman's words. "You have suffered quite enough at the hands of the Duke, Aramis. I would not see you suffer more. Treville will send a detachment. Our mission is to see the Queen returned safely." He had no doubt Aramis would perform his duty with honor if so ordered, but Athos was loathe to allow his friend to be subjected to the Duke's presence for one more moment. It may be over protective and improper for him to make the decision without Aramis' consent, but he held his friend's gaze, raising an eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Porthos squeezed his friend's ankle. "Let it go, Aramis."

Aramis took a deep breath and nodded, a soft grin lifting his lips. "Perhaps it would be for the best."

Athos relaxed at the marksman's easy capitulation. "Good. Have you spoken with the physician about how long you must remain immobile?"

Before Aramis could respond, Porthos spoke. "A day or two at least. And then there's no way he will be able to sit a horse for at least a week."

Aramis rolled his eyes. "As I said, the physician lacks experience other than illnesses and birthing babies. I will be fine by tomorrow." He shifted his leg, unable to contain the wince the movement elicited.

"We will obtain a coach from the Duchess," Athos decided. "We will await the escort, and return to Paris when they arrive."

"That could be days!" Aramis objected.

Athos shrugged. "Possibly. I'm sure the Queen will appreciate the time with the Duchess."

"And what are we to do in the meantime?"

"You will rest," Athos replied, the command in his voice unmistakable. "The rest of us…" he looked to Porthos and d'Artagnan who had joined them near the bed. "Savoy seems a lovely place and the Duchess has offered us the run of the palace. I'm sure we can find something to amuse ourselves."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

The escort arrived in four days time, finding Aramis, restless from his forced immobility, eager to be on their way. He'd never been able to lie around for more than a short period of time, and it seemed their proximity to the location of the massacre that still haunted his dreams was exacerbating his normal impatience, raising the ghosts he had been trying for so many years to lay to rest. He could only hope distance from this place would once again ease his mind, allowing him the respite his aching body so sorely needed. Although he did his best to hide his growing distress, he knew the others had noticed his increased anxiety and had taken it upon themselves to make sure he'd never been left alone throughout his convalescence. Anne had spent time with him also, her visits being a balm to his soul, but even her presence was beginning to lack effect and he was never so glad to leave a place as he was Savoy.

The Duchess, still heavy with child, assured Anne she would be fine until her time came and would be in Paris as soon as she and the baby were able to travel. The Queen, knowing how much the Duke's treachery had hurt Christine, promised to do all she could to make Louis delay the trial, assuring her the Duke would be treated well despite the severity of his crimes.

The Duke of Savoy was loaded into a carriage, two of the Duchess' men and four more Musketeers riding guard alongside. At Athos' request, a second carriage was provided for the Queen who insisted Aramis ride with her, not believing he was fit to sit a horse considering his wounds. It was a decision that made Aramis smile, but one that made Athos brows rise in concern.

As Aramis limped to the carriage, the older Musketeer grasped his arm, stopping his ascent into the coach.

"I believe this to be a bad idea," he said quietly, not wanting the others to hear his objection, reticent to reveal the basis for his displeasure.

Aramis just smiled, pulling his hat from his head and patting it against Athos chest. "Dear Athos, you worry too much. Besides, how can we argue with the Queen?" The expression of wide-eyed innocence on his face would have been comforting coming from anyone else. Aramis grinned as he pulled himself into the carriage and settled in beside Anne.

Athos had no choice but to step back, allowing the door to close. He sighed, shaking his head. "His normal charming self…" he echoed the Queen's words from days before, "will be the death of us all."

Fin

So that is about as close to romance as I can get. Not exactly a huge ship story, but enough to give you a little smile, I hope. At least Sharlot is happy now and I can write move on with my intrigue and whump in the next story. I would love to hear your comments! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed. - Sue