The Three Musketeers

AN – All right. This is my first, and probably only TTM fic, so I thought I'd just let you know, I've only seen the 1993 movie, and the Man in the Iron Mask, but loved TTM (1993) better. So, I'm writing this fic shortly after the defeat of Cardinal Richelieu. Enjoy!

I don't own the Musketeers, but I do own my own characters.

Chapter 1

Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan sat happily inside the confines of a French pub, drinking their ale, and wine, while Porthos regaled stories to the wenches seated around him.

"So, there I was, faced with something ugly," Porthos grinned, as he took a swill of his bottle, and gripped the waist of one woman tighter.

She giggled and looked up at him, as if in awe, "What did you do?"

He nodded arrogantly, and continued, "Well, you see, I had to think quickly, so I-"

Suddenly, the doors of the tavern opened, and a cloaked figure entered loudly, boots bashing against the wooden floors, sword clanging against the handle of a pistol. The person came up to the table and unsheathed their sword, speaking lowly, "Which of you is Porthos the Pirate?"

Porthos laughed heartily, as he looked over to D'Artagnan, "I told you I was famous. How may I help you-"

The tip of the sword was pressed against his chest, "I am here to defend my sister's honor."

D'Artagnan stood quickly, ready to pull his sword free, but Porthos held up a hand, "Calm down boy," he turned back to the figure, "I'm sorry. You'll have to be more specific, I come across many a women who are sisters of young lads like yourself."

The figured stomped their foot at his calm manner, and threw their hood down, revealing a head of long blonde hair, attached to a small delicate face of a young woman. She pressed her sword slightly harder, "I am speaking of Lady Elizabeth of Gascony."

He nodded knowingly, "Ah yes. Elizabeth, I remember her well. How is she doing?"

The lady sneered, "Not so well. She was set to marry a Count, before you rode into town. The night before her wedding, it was let known that she was no longer a pure bride."

Athos took to chuckling into his bottle of wine, and Aramis simply shook his head. Porthos looked down at the tip of the sword, then back up to the woman holding it, "I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but she was far from pure when I met her."

He smiled broadly, as she narrowed her eyes with a fury, "You damn bloody bastard! You take such a lie back! I swear I shall pierce you through your chest!"

At this outcry, Athos set down his bottle, and stood, pulling his over cloak off, to reveal his Musketeer tunic, "I should say to you, to lower your sword Madame."

She stared at him, thoroughly surprised, "You're a musketeer?"

D'Artagnan and Aramis stood as well, revealing their tunics. She stepped back, dropping the tip of her blade to the ground, "All of you? The kings own guards, sitting with a pirate?"

Porthos grinned, and brushed off his wenches, standing, "Obviously, you do not know the name of Porthos that well."

He pulled his coat away to show his Musketeer tunic as well. Four men stood before her, brandished in the blue and silver of the King's guards. She lowered her gaze, "You are all Musketeers."

Aramis stepped forward, "Indeed we are. Who are you Milady?"

She sheathed her sword, and stood taller, "I am Lady Madeline of Gascony."

She then bowed towards Porthos, though through gritted teeth, "I apologize for my outburst. If I had known-"

He waved his hand, "Oh please, it happens all the time."

Aramis nodded, before sitting, "Indeed it does."

"You must be tired from your journey from Gascony Madeline, I lived there once, it is quite the horse ride," D'Artagnan waved his hand at the table, "Please, sit with us."

Madeline shook her head, "No, I should not. I have lingered here in my humility far too long as it is."

Porthos shook his head, "Nonsense," he nudged one of the women to the side of him, "You may sit next to me."

She turned her head away from him, disgusted, "I should think not."

Aramis narrowed his eyes at Porthos before speaking, "I do agree with D'Artagnan, you seem to be quite tired. Please, sit for a just a while."

He nodded softly to her, and Madeline felt compelled to sit, "Very well … but only for a moment."

Madeline moved around to lower herself between Aramis and D'Artagnan, before throwing off her cloak. She wore a pair of men's trousers and boots accompanying her sword and pistol, but her top was the top corset of a dress, the skirt presumably being torn off. Her hair was pulled back, the top in a bun covered in a jeweled wrap, the rest hanging down. Madeline rolled her cloak up, and set it on her lap. Porthos slid his arms away from the wenches, and grinned at Madeline, "My my, my dear Madeline. You are the sister of Elizabeth? Perhaps I visited the wrong woman that night."

Madeline slid her hand down to her sword, but Aramis grabbed her hand, speaking softly, "I would not think that wise."

She pulled her hand away, and set both of them on top of the table. She tapped her fingers on the table, and then saw a woman pass by with a bottle on a tray. Madeline reached out and grabbed the bottle, bringing it to her lips, "Well then. I have introduced myself to you all, but know not but one of your names."

Athos nodded to her, and slurred slightly from his bottle, "Athos."

D'Artagnan turned to her, and smiled, "D'Artagnan."

"And I, am Aramis," he took her hand in his, and brought her fingers to his lips, brushing against them softly.

The wenches beside Porthos giggled to each other, but Madeline instead, slowly pulled her hand slowly from his, "There's no need to do that."

Porthos chuckled smugly to Aramis, and pulled the women around him closer, "Some men are just born well with women, I suppose."

"And some men are born to be obnoxious and full of hot air!" Madeline spit back at him venomously.

The women gasped, but it was Athos, who had spit his wine all over the edge of the table in laughter that caught more attention. He nodded, "I do believe Porthos, we have found the first woman, not to be swayed by your "natural charm"."

Porthos grinned, unfazed, "Ah, but the night is young."

Madeline rolled her eyes, and brought the bottle to her lips again. She brought it down to the table loudly, then pulled back, standing, "Well … I believe that was polite enough, and I don't believe I can take much more. Good night to you all," she turned and faced Porthos, "Well … perhaps not to you."

She turned on her heels, and walked out the door, as she pulled her cloak over her once more.

Porthos grinned, "Well … she's a feisty one, isn't she?"