Disclaimer: I do not own the Musketeers.
Sorry for the long time between updates. I hope to have this fic done by the end of the year (here's hoping). Enjoy some tense interactions with Buckingham and some more flirting.
The whole courtyard was filled with a disturbing amount of the Cardinal Guards, in fact the entire force it seemed was out on display with their more extreme toys. Canons for starters. The small battalion of Royal Musketeers stood opposing the Cardinal's best and with whom Charlotte found herself surrounded by.
Athos and the others were greeted warmly by some of the older musketeers in blue, old comrades no doubt. Charlotte hung back a little to allow them this brief moment, and it was refreshing to see Athos less frosty or bitter about something. She worked on keeping her back straight and remembered what Madam Flori had told her at the salon. Under any normal circumstances Charlotte would have put the information to the side but she was surrounded by hundreds of men all pumped with pride and as cocksure as the next, and the only other females nearby were all the way up on the balcony with the King's entourage. She had turned a few heads on her way in so it seemed to be working, so she softened her lips and tilted her chin up, attempting subtlety.
She cast her eyes towards a young officer acting as a flag bearer near where she stood. He was rigid, serious beyond sense but his eyes still darted about. He caught her gaze and she gave him a sly grin to which his eyes widened and his face twitched nervously until he finally smiled back shyly, his pole leaning off centre very slowly from lack of concentration.
Charlotte chuckled and joined Athos, Porthos and Aramis to stand along the plush red carpet that had been rolled out for whoever it was they were waiting for. Unfortunately this gave her the unpleasant view of Rochefort himself and the man wasted no time at staring her down with a stoic glare. Charlotte kept her head high and just stared back at the man, but he would not back down easily and Charlotte would be damned if she did first. Athos noticed this strange battle of wills.
"Are you trying to burn Rochefort with your eyes?" He asked.
"Not for lack of trying."
"You'll get wrinkles before your time."
"I'll what?" She looked at Athos, then realised what had happened. "Oh you ..." Charlotte refused to looked anywhere near Rochefort. "So where is this high and mighty lord?"
"Who knows." Athos sighed. "That's the unfortunate thing about politics. They're notorious for ..."
He never got to finish the sentence. A shadow crept over them faster than any cloud could, to which every head shot up to see an unbelievable sight in the sky. The hull of a ship appeared over the palace as if it was fly, which it turned out it was. It was a large war ship held up by a white tartan balloon. Charlotte's mouth dropped in awe and slight confusion. "How? What?"
"That's Da Vinci's War Machine." Porthos said.
"Da Vinci? Leonardo Da Vinci?" Charlotte needed answered before her mind exploded from the improbability of a ship flying right above her head. It even dropped anchor onto the cobbles and made a garrison scatter while the ship turned in the air so that the bow faced the palace, slowly floating to the ground with the flag of England waving proudly behind it. Several crew members dressed and royal blue navel cloths jumped off to help bring the ship down.
Everyone was so preoccupied by the sight that they missed King Louis and his entourage bustle by towards the gang plank that slide out before a round door on the ships front. Charlotte forgot to bow but luckily everyone did.
The door popped open and a single man appeared, surveying the yard was an arrogant tilt of his chin.
"Buckingham." Athos said with a snarl.
"Friend of yours?" Charlotte glanced at him and quickly noted that was the wrong thing to say. Athos looked beyond ropeable. Charlotte made a face and returned her attention to the new comer and the King. It was a tense affair from the looks of it with the English lord and the Cardinal seeming to be the only ones enjoying the whole thing. Charlotte wished she had more context as to the situation.
"Care to fill me on Sir Peacock over there?" She lent back to Porthos.
"That's George Villiers. The Duke of Buckingham and a right royal little shit." The large man muttered.
'Ooooohhhhh there is a damn good story here.'
Charlotte relaxed her face into a passive pout as the King's entourage headed back their way with the Duke practically swaggering his way across the carpet while the young King looked as if he had eaten a soured grape. The Duke was ... not a bad looking fella, despite the alarming shade of blue of his clothes. Perhaps it was an English thing. He sported a well groomed head of dark hair brushed into a tall roll and a stylized moustache and goatee. As the King drew closer all the Musketeers knelt and bowed their heads and this time Charlotte needed no prodding. She curled a hand around to pull back her cloak and eased herself onto one knee, her shoulders back and her head tilted down which cause more discomfort that it was worth.
The Duke stopped right before the Athos. "Now this is a pleasant surprise." He said with a hint of a chuckle.
"Ah." The King turned back impatiently to his guest. "Another acquaintance of yours?"
"We've met yes." Athos said with a sharp cut to his words.
"As I recall, last I saw you ... you were on knees as well." The Duke was prodding, Charlotte knew it. She did it all the time back home only she at least attempted to hide her amusement. "Most unfortunate habit really."
"It is habit I shall have to break during our next encounter." Athos replied venomously.
"I look forward to it. And of course most noble Aramis and Porthos still at your side. Charming to see such devotion to such a friend."
Charlotte dared a small peek at Athos out of concern. This proved to be a bad choice as it caught the Duke's attention. "And ... who is this Athos? Your ... student?" He was practically chuckling and it took all of Charlotte's will power not to snap her head up to glare at him. She did spare him a scathing side eye.
'Student? Oh I'll show you who's a student.'
"This is Charlotte D'Artangan. My personal guest here today." The King said for them, saving Athos from spitting anymore blunt words at the Duke.
"Mademoiselle." Buckingham held out his hand to Charlotte in a gentleman like fashion.
She eyed the gloved hand warily, the mild aroma of perfume hitting her nose made her want to cringe but luckily she kept in line and placed her hand in his. But before he could think of kissing it Charlotte gripped it and twisted it to a handshake. "A pleasure." She said with all the richness of soured butter.
Charlotte hoped to relish a look of surprise for Buckingham, all three seconds of it. The pompous duke's eyes widened slightly at her small defiance but then smirked and tightened his hand. His eyes were the same shade as his hair, and they were making her squirm. There was no possible way she was going to allow herself to squirm before some pretty boy and yanked her hand back. He looked amused which pissed Charlotte off more than it should have.
"And now that we are done with the pleasantries, shall we talk peace?" Buckingham stood up right and flashed a dazzling smile towards the tense procession he had been holding up. The Cardinal was more than happy to hasten things along and swept his arm out towards the palace. Once out of earshot Athos released a sigh.
So did Charlotte, the side of her mouth puffed out while she did. 'Well this has been a barrel of laughs.'
The slow dispersal of the guards and official Musketeers happened when the last of the King's entourage disappeared through the doors, each squad waited for the clipped command from their captains. Charlotte was unclear whether there was a procedure the 'guests' had to follow or if they were free to leave at any point, but she held off from asking any questions.
Until Rochefort waltzed on over and got in Athos' way. "Now then, if you would be so kind as to remove yourself from the palace grounds." He sneered. "Some of us have actual duties to perform, while other ..." He directed his voice towards Charlotte, "Have to play nanny to mutts."
The only reason why Charlotte did not charge at him was Porthos, and his large foot planted purposely on her cape. She hid her choking by jutting out her chin proudly at Rochefort. "We don't need escorts. We know how to find a door." Arthos turned and the three of them followed suit, with Charlotte throwing a murderous look over her shoulder. Once they were passed the gilded palace gates she began tugging at her stiff collar to let the cool air in under her clothes. She was boiling.
"What an uneventful affair." Porthos sighed. "Though the ladies in waiting looked exquisite."
Charlotte couldn't care less. Her head was pounding like a war drum. She slowed her pace to fall behind the Musketeers and pinched the bridge of her nose tightly. She had to calm herself. Athos didn't care since he himself was slowly simmering, Porthos didn't seem to notice and was too busy prattling on to Aramis about the courtiers. After a few moments of obscurity Charlotte excused herself from the Musketeers after claiming she felt like some sightseeing and that she would met them later. There were no objections and Charlotte quickly turned down the next street they came to, her cloak billowing out behind her adding unneeded drama to her departure. The street was blissfully bare of any foot traffic and Charlotte rolled her head to release her pent up tension, feeling it coil at the nape of her neck and crawling up into her temples.
Bracing herself against a wall, Charlotte stopped and decided to take a few moments to both calm her headache and berate herself. She was better than this, she can hold her temper for more than five minutes. The stone was cold under her hand and it was very tempting to press her face to it to chase away the heat. Giving the street a sideways glance to check for any unsavory folk or noisy shoppers, Charlotte stepped closer to the wall and lent her forehead to it. Immediately the heat reduced back to the column of her neck and Charlotte took in long measured breaths as she stayed in that position while in her mind's eye she walking through her exercises with a phantom blade in hand.
Her father's voice filled her head, taking her through the basics. The counting allowed her heart rate to slow right down until her whole body was calm. She hummed like a cat and started a sixth round.
"As lovely as the brick work is, I'm under the impression that you are not interested in sightseeing at all."
Why wasn't she surprised?
Charlotte pulled back from the wall and faced the former priest. His dark eyes were full of concern. "Are you feeling well? You're cheeks are flushed."
"Honestly?" Charlotte bumped a fist on the wall, "I could use a good dip in the river."
"Best not to do that here." Aramis said. "God knows what's in there, and people will talk."
She had to laugh at that. "Like they don't already." In a strange way, Charlotte was grateful for Aramis' presence. It gave her something new to focus on, something far more pleasant than Rochefort.
"True." Aramis stepped closer and offered his hand. "But in all seriousness Charlotte, are you alright?"
She took the offering and placed her hand in his, which he tucked into the crook of his arm. "I could be better, but ... I will fine." She lacked the energy to give any witty remark and let the older man walk them back into the main street, their steps slow and leisurely. They kept a respectable amount of space between them so then neither was really leading the other around.
"Was it Rochefort?"
"Yes?"
"Does he really anger you so?"
Charlotte sighed and tipped her head back. "You know that third reason why I learnt to fight?" The sun was not high enough to be midday yet but it still blinded her.
Aramis thought about it for a moment then gave a single nod.
"I get ... angry. More so than I should. It was a true terror as a little girl. When I was upset there was no room for any other emotion or thought, so I'd lash out, true to break things or hurt things, mostly myself." Her hand flexed slightly around his arm.
"You're a truly passionate soul." Aramis offered, his tone soothing as if this was confession on a Sunday morning.
They stepped to the side to allow an apple cart to pass them. Charlotte slipped her arm out from his and folded her arms across her chest. "Passionate?" Charlotte had to laugh at that. "That's being polite. I was ... unruly, violent. Once when I was seven, a boy threw a ball at me when my back was turned. It was only for a laugh of course, and innocent joke. I broke his nose in response." Charlotte was not proud that. It had terrified her then and it still did to this day.
She looked up at him to see his reaction, which was blissfully calm. "After that Father started teaching me some basics, so that when I did feel the anger getting out of hand I had something to try and focus on. And it worked for the most part."
Aramis hummed, "So you channeled your temper into sword play. Seems like a dangerous combination."
"On the contrary, it proved a marvellous distraction and since I was stubborn I endeavoured to perfect my technique. So my Father just taught me everything."
Then something strange happened.
Not a horrible strange or obscured strange but for Charlotte it was strange.
There was a slight tug at the nape of her neck and she had finally noticed Aramis' arm reaching around to her hair. He pulled a pin out and her hair unravelled and fell to her shoulders. There was some relief to be had but it was overshadowed by the tingling sensation running down her spine. It was such a forward act but she enjoyed the lightness to the gesture, how his fingers pulled her curls forward and his knowing smile. Back home Hector had tried to tug her braid over her shoulder whilst spouting poetry that made her cringe. But here, Aramis said nothing and yet it had a profound effect on her.
"Thank you."
Aramis handed her back the pin. "Third reason. Third question, as out agreement was."
"Well then," Charlotte looped her arm back into his and pressed herself a little closer into his side. "I may have a question."
"So ask away."
They began to walk again, both grinning like cats. Charlotte no longer felt drained from the anger. In fact she felt bold and feminine. "Since I am dying to know the details, what is the story with the Blueberry Duke?"