A/N Ok, I decided to be nice and get the cliffhanger over quickly! Answers ahead!
Excuse inaccuracies in history and the French language, and details that are obviously made up. All in the name of fiction!
Let me know what you think. Did you guess who it was? ;-)
D'Artagnan shook off Aramis and Porthos' hands easily and stood up. Everyone was in silence for several moments as the four musketeers stared at the man before them, and he stared back. Athos was the closest to him and could see a hint of fear starting to appear in his eyes. Good.
"I really don't understand what the hell is going on here." Porthos voiced the confusion of all four of them.
When no one else spoke, the man in front of them sighed, placing his hands on the back of the elegant chair that sat behind his very expensive desk. "Well obviously things have not gone as I planned." His voice was smooth and confident, still hiding the fear he must feel at the appearance of musketeers in his home.
Aramis snorted. "No shit."
"Who are you?" Athos voice hid nothing, he was seething with rage. D'Artagnan glanced at him and could see the clenched fists at his sides, the tension that gripped every muscle in his back.
The man sighed again. "I am the Comte de la Amiens."
"Again, I'm really not getting this."
The Comte raised an eyebrow at Pothos as he spoke, but before he could reply Athos spoke again.
"The Comte de la Amiens is regularly at the court of the King. He is not you."
"Ah, well yes. There is a man who goes to court as the Comte de la Amiens, but I could hardly go myself now could I? I have another life to upkeep. No, no. I pay him well." He shrugged carelessly.
"You appear very rich for a man of your position." Aramis gestured to the surroundings.
"Perhaps. Yes."
"And perhaps you were not always a man of this position?" Athos had noted how the man's eyes looked down at Aramis' comment. He was beginning to get a picture of something that answered several questions. "I believe you used to be a man of a much greater position, perhaps even with some very regal family connections." Athos began to enjoy himself a little as he watched the man squirm slightly. "You have been hidden here because of your, indiscretions, haven't you?"
The man said nothing, but Athos could see it took great effort. D'Artagnan stepped forward to stand next to Athos, glaring at the man but saying nothing.
"The King's famous disgraced cousin." Athos smirked in satisfaction as he watched the 'Comte' finally lose his cool.
"I am not disgraced! I am not hidden!" His face turned scarlet as he began shouting.
"Then how do you explain your loss of royal connections? Your banishment from court?" Aramis spoke as he and Porthos stepped forward, flanking Athos and D'Artagnan and forming a line with their comrades.
"I am not banished! The King would never banish me! I choose not to go, you know I have another life to uphold." His knuckles were turning white as he gripped the chair.
"I knew I never liked you." D'Artagnan spoke for the first time, his disgust clear. Instantly the man's face turned ashen.
"No, D'Artagnan, no, you don't mean that." He reached his hands out imploringly as the young soldier's mouth fell open in shock. "It was all pretence, all part of my Paris act, but you must have known I didn't dislike you as I acted."
Athos felt Aramis' hand grip his arm firmly, stopping him from any rash movements as they all realised what was happening.
"It was me? It was me you wanted, from the beginning." D'Artagnan felt sick. Porthos placed a hand on his back, keeping him upright.
"But I never thought they would bring you. I was haunted by you, I needed to have you, or be able to pretend I did, I-"
"Enough!" The force of Athos' voice when he shouted made him silent at once. "You will say nothing else. Nothing to D'Artagan at all, do you understand me? You will now be taken under guard back to Paris, where you will be questioned until we have the full details of all of your crimes, any other purchases you have made. The King will be informed of your activities, and after you have assisted us in bringing in Marchal, he will decide your punishment. Do you understand?"
Their new prisoner eyed Athos warily before he sat slowly at his desk. "You are very protective of your men sir. I apologise." His voice was calm again.
Porthos rolled his eyes at him. "Is he giving anyone else the creeps here?" He shuddered.
"Right there with you Porthos." Aramis replied.
The source of the creepiness ignored them, still eyeing Athos.
"I am the King's cousin, you cannot make me go anywhere."
"You are no longer recognised as the King's cousin, and I can make you go anywhere I like." Athos' kept his voice calm to match the tone that was levelled at him, but he was glad of Aramis' strong grip on his arm to remind him to stay in control, rather than throwing himself and his sword at this bastard and cutting every piece off him that he could reach. "I will start by dragging you from that chair if you do not move out from behind the desk."
"No, I don't think you understand. You cannot make me go anywhere." Quickly, he reached into a low drawer that the musketeers had not seen and must have been open, pulling out a pistol and pointing it at D'Artagnan.
It did not have the effect he was looking for, as the two musketeers on either end of the human barrier chuckled and Athos took a step forward threateningly. "Lower your weapon right now, or I will kill you. Slowly."
Porthos and Aramis were suddenly both holding their own pistols, pointed at the prisoner.
"Ah. Well I see we are at an impasse gentlemen."
With one last longing look at D'Artagnan, he raised the pistol to his head and fired.
All three musketeers leapt forward at once, but the man was dead in his chair before they had moved an inch.
"Dammit!" Athos punched the desk in frustration as Aramis pointlessly checked for a pulse.
"Woah there, boy." Porthos moved back to D'Artagnan as he took a step forward and slumped against the desk, catching himself with his good hand. "Hold up." Porthos wrapped an arm around his waist as Athos and Aramis looked up in concern.
"Is anyone out there?" Athos shouted out and the man who had shown them in appeared through the doors looking terrified. "Your master is dead, he has committed suicide after we placed him under arrest. We are the King's musketeers, do you understand?" A nod. "Good, now some wine for my friend please."
D'Artagnan was a little out of focus as he felt himself being escorted across the room to a chair. His head was swirling in confusion and emotion. He still felt sick from realising that he had been the fantasy that had set this whole thing in motion. The thought that some poor boy could've been kidnapped and used because of him set his teeth on edge. Not to mention his shoulder was killing him.
Aramis followed as Porthos half-carried D'Artagnan across the room. As he began to check the wound the man returned, a jug of wine and four cups on a tray. He placed them on a table next to D'Artagnan's chair and bowed before turning to leave the room.
"Wait!" Athos approached the man and addressed him quietly. "Thank you for the wine. We may need your help. Will you assist us?"
The servant nodded, not looking Athos in the eye.
"Look at me please." He spoke softly, and two scared brown eyes met his. "What is your name?"
To his surprise the man did not answer, just shook his head sadly.
"Will you not speak to me? We mean you no harm."
The man shook his head again, gesturing to his mouth. Athos' heart plummeted as he came to a hideous realisation.
"Is everyone like you, friend?"
Another nod. Athos clasped him gently on the shoulder. "Could you bring us some food please? And then gather all the servants in the courtyard, everyone please."
Athos followed the man to the door as he left again, closing it quietly and resting his head against it. He spoke quietly.
Aramis looked up, finished with D'Artagnan's dressing. "Athos? Did you say something?" The other two also looked at him.
Through gritted teeth, in a voice full of pain and vitriolic anger, he repeated his words. "The sick bastard cut out their tongues!" He punched the door with his fist before turning to face his friends, all three of them wearing facial expressions that shared the same feelings he was experiencing. "He needed to keep his secret so badly that he silenced every single one of them. Bought and paid for, all of them."
It took every bit of strength in him not to go to the body at the desk and start mutilating his anger into it. By the looks on the others' faces, and the curses that met his speech, everyone was having the same dilemma. Instead he focused on the needs at hand.
"D'Artagnan, are you alright?" Athos approached, grateful for the wine Aramis handed to him as he got there, and crouched on the floor in front of the chair.
"I'm fine." D'Artagnan smiled ruefully, but was met with a raised eyebrow that told him he was not believed. Athos reached a hand up to cup his face, stroking his cheek gently with one thumb. He drank half his wine in one gulp, and passed the rest to D'Artagnan, who swallowed the rest quickly. Athos smiled sadly at him and stood.
"Now what?" Aramis asked the obvious question.
"We need to make some decisions. We need to do something for these poor people, we need to get back to Paris and speak to both Treville and the King, and we need to find Marchal."
"How the hell are we going to do that, now the bastard de la Amiens is dead?" Porthos asked.
D'Artagnan stood and sighed. "That's not the only difficulty that's going to meet us in Paris."
The four of them looked at each other and shared a grimace. How the hell were they going to explain to Constance who and what her husband had really been?
