Chapter Four

Athos opened his eyes. He realised he had fallen asleep. Or passed out. It was difficult to tell. Either way, he felt somewhat refreshed.

He was still in the dimly lit, bare stone room with the heavy-looking door. He was still tied up and gagged. But his headache had subsided considerably, and he no longer felt nauseous.

He still had no idea where he was or why he had been taken. He wondered how long he had been wherever he was. Had he slept through the night or only for a couple of hours. Was it still the same day?

The room seemed lighter than the last time he awoke. He stared at the wall in front of him and realised it was not brick-built, but wooden. The planks of wood were overlapped and had been painted at some point to resemble the colour of the stone wall Athos was leaning on. The light was seeping between the planks in places where they had warped over time. The thin slivers of light were highlighting the disturbed dust of his prison. Athos watched the motes dancing on air currents that he could not feel.

A shadow blotted out the light for a moment. Athos was drawn to the slivers of light in the same way a moth was drawn to a flame. He hoped the slivers of light would not cause him to harm if he were to approach them.

With a shuffle and a few grunts of annoyance, Athos got to his feet. He was forced to lean against the stone wall behind him for a few seconds as his vision stopped spinning. His headache may have lessened, but it had not gone completely.

He pushed himself up and took a couple of steps to the wooden wall. He felt a welcome breeze of fresh air seeping through the gaps in the planks. He pressed his face to the wood and peered through the space. By moving his head from side to side, he could see a few yards in either direction outside his prison.

The street was tatty; dirt-stained from years of rain and a lack of any maintenance. The building opposite was wooden, the planks rotting and missing in places. A bundle of dirty linen lay opposite. Except, it was not a bundle of dirty linen; it was a woman lying huddled, shivering. Her dirt-covered face made her disappear amongst the stained cloth she was sheltering under.

A few yards to the left, Athos could see the entrance to a narrow alleyway. A man was leaning against the wall. He was armed with a gun and a dagger, thrust into a fraying belt. He was smoking a pipe, the smoke creating a hazy cloud around his face. Athos' gaze was drawn to the gun the man had.

Aramis' gun. The decorated handle was unique. A souvenir from one of his friends' first battles. It had been taken off the body of a man who was trying to kill Aramis before he was saved by Captain Treville.

If Aramis' gun was in the hands of another man, what had happened to Aramis? Athos remembered his friend being accosted while he was taken but had no clue what had happened to him.

Footsteps from the right indicated someone joining the man with Aramis' gun. Athos stepped away from the gap in the wood for a second before remembering there would be no chance of him being seen peering out. He recognised the new man. He was the one that had spoken to Aramis when they had been attacked. The foreign man walked up to the man leaning against the wall. The other man straightened up and acknowledged the foreign man with a nod.

'What did she say?' asked the man that had been waiting.

The foreigner shrugged, 'she wants to stick to the plan. I think it's too elaborate, but what can I do? She's the Queen. I am her humble servant.'

The first man chuckled, 'Asim, you are anything but humble.'

The foreigner smiled.

'You are right. In my country, I would be a Prince. I would wield more power than any of you,' he said. 'Any sign of him waking?'

Asim indicated the room where Athos was being held. The other man shook his head.

'Nah, I checked an hour ago. Not a sign.'

'You had better not have hit him too hard, Jean.'

Jean shrugged, 'would it matter if I had? It's had the desired effect. Porthos came to see her.'

Asim nodded thoughtfully. He looked towards the room where Athos was for a few seconds before rubbing his forehead. Athos recognised his scarf around the man's wrist.

Athos slowly thought through what the men were saying. He looked at the area outside his prison.

He was in the Court of Miracles.

The woman the men were talking about was Flea, Porthos' former lover, and the new leader of the court.

But, knowing where he was, did not answer the question of why he had been taken, or what had happened to Aramis.

'Do you think he'll take her up on the offer? Will he come back here in return for his mate being freed?'

Asim shook his head, 'I doubt he's that stupid. He'll know it's a trick. He'll play her at her game. He might not realise she's the mastermind behind it. But he knows I'm involved. I'm sure of that.'

'Has she said if we're to kill his friend?'

Another shake of the head from Asim, 'she's not decided yet. It might be good for Athos to see Porthos hang and then be released to go back and tell Aramis what happened. You never know Aramis might kill himself in shame.'

They both chuckled. Athos guessed from what the pair were saying that Aramis was not a prisoner as well. But, more alarmingly, that Porthos' life was in grave danger. Even if he knew he was walking into a trap. His friend might have thought he could negotiate or free Athos and then leave. But it seemed Flea had other ideas.

'Charon would have had you as his second-in-command. She should not have taken the leadership,' said Jean before taking another puff on his pipe.

Asim pulled himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest a little, showing his power and assertiveness.

'You are right, my friend. Aramis should have been punished for taking our leader from us. He upset the balance here. Flea is good, but she is not the one who should be in charge. Once she's had her fun with her ex-lover, I think it will be time for a change.'

Jean nodded, 'I am with you, Asim. You know that. And I know the others are as well. Her reign will not last for much longer.'

Asim walked towards the corner, near Athos' prison. Athos stepped away from the wall. He was about to return to his place on the floor and pretend to be unconscious when Jean spoke again.

'I told you, he's still out. Leave him be. Let the prize rest a bit longer.'

Asim moved away again, 'you're right. I've never understood men that form close bonds like those Musketeers. I would not die for any of you.'

Jean pulled a face, 'I feel so slighted,' he chuckled. 'But I would do the same for you … or not.'

'Let's hope we never have to make good on those promises,' said Asim. 'I'll send one of the others to relieve you in an hour. Then you can get back to your woman. Her warm bed is just what you need.'

Jean nodded his thanks and went back to puffing on his pipe as Asim walked away.

Athos watched the man until he was out of sight. He glanced back at Jean, who was absorbed in his smoking.

He wondered how long he had until Porthos returned. Athos knew Porthos would return. Even if it was a facade. Even if he knew it was a trap.

But Porthos would not know how dangerous the trap was. Porthos would not know that Flea had no intention of letting him walk away again. It sounded as though there would be no negotiation. Porthos would be walking towards his execution.

Athos had to get himself free before his friend put himself in mortal danger.

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As much as Porthos disliked the idea of Aramis and d'Artagnan helping in the search for Athos, he knew that their help was needed. The more they had discussed Flea's offer the more Porthos was forced to accept that it was not genuine. His former lover was not intending to accept him back as a leader of the Court. He was sure she was simply toying with him. Having fun at his, and Athos', expense. The fun might leave Porthos humiliated, but it could leave Athos dead.

Aramis and d'Artagnan were going to begin actively searching for Athos early the following morning. Porthos would concentrate on giving Flea what she wanted. He could keep her and Asim distracted. He would go along with their plan, pretending that he was willing to become a member of the Court again in return for Athos' release.

Porthos could not decide if he believed Flea when she said that she did not know where Athos was or who had taken him. He knew Asim was involved, but if he had taken Athos without Flea's participation, did Porthos have more than one faction to be wary of?

He turned into the road where the Court began. He had arrived in uniform, the idea being that he would symbolically shed his pauldron in front of her. He only hoped she did not notice that he had swapped his pauldron for a different one that had belonged to a Musketeer long since left the service. He had no intention of casting aside his pauldron, as he had no intention of stopping being a soldier. Stopping being a Musketeer.

A couple of the Court's army fell into step with him. He continued towards the pale building he had met Flea in earlier. He did not look at his escorts. He did not need to. They were under orders to stop him from wandering off course. They were to stop him from searching for Athos.

He reached the steps to the building and walked through the large door. The two men followed. They remained walking in his wake until he was outside the large room where Flea would be waiting to receive him. He paused at the door and turned to face them; he raised an eyebrow and looked at them. The two men did not advance on him. One of them gave a little sneer and nodded towards the room. Porthos acknowledged the order and stepped into the former ballroom leaving his escort outside.

The room was empty. Warm light spilt from a door at the far end. Porthos could see the shadows of two people standing close to one another in conversation. One shadow was small, the shape indicating a woman. Porthos recognised his former lover. The other was tall and broad. Porthos suspected the person Flea was talking to was Asim.

Porthos approached the room, reaching the door as Asim stepped out. He looked at Porthos, his gaze falling on the pauldron.

'You won't need that if you're going to stay,' he said.

Porthos nodded, 'I know. I thought it might be useful to you.'

Asim paused for a moment before he nodded his approval, 'perhaps the ways of your true people have not left you,' he said.

Porthos reached up and unbuckled the prized piece of his uniform. He handed it to Asim, who looked at it for a few seconds, before looking back at Porthos. Porthos was not sure if he saw anything but contempt. The leader of the Court's army was not a man capable of hiding his true feelings.

'She's in there,' Asim said, nodding his head towards the room he had left.

'I look forward to being better acquainted with you,' said Porthos. 'It's been a long time.'

'It has.'

'Now that I am here, will Athos be released?'

Asim shrugged and shook his head, 'I don't know anything about your missing friend. I'm sure once you've appealed to Flea, she'll let you search. You are sacrificing your new life for her after all.'

Asim turned and walked away. Porthos watched him go. The stilted conversation had only confirmed to Porthos that Asim was the one behind Athos' abduction. Perhaps Flea was not involved after all.

Porthos moved to stand in the doorway and looked into the room that once would have been an anteroom to the ballroom. It was now laid out as a cosy bedroom. The large fireplace was lit, the flames warming the room to every corner. Two windows revealed views over the Court and further onto the rest of the city. Heavy-looking burgundy drapes were pulled to the sides of the window, ready to shut out the chill of the night. Flea had spent time decorating the room to her tastes. Porthos could see no trace of Charon in the furnishings. It was as though the former King of the Court had never existed. He wondered if Flea had chased away all traces of her former lover through grief or a need to exert herself as the new leader of the community. Charon had let the Court down with his final act, but that seemed to have been forgotten by the people living there.

Flea was wearing the same dress as earlier in the day; Porthos doubted she had an extensive wardrobe; none of them did in the Court. Everything was used until it was useless, and even then, someone would probably take ownership until there was nothing but dust and memories of the item.

'I knew you would come back. Your loyalty to your friend is inspiring,' said Flea with a smile. 'But I hope there is enough of you that wants to come home for yourself and not just so that you can search for your friend?'

Porthos affected his warmest smile; he looked at Flea, making sustained eye contact as he approached her. Now that they were alone, a different kind of game could begin. A game that had to be played carefully, each move needed to be calculated and meaningful. Athos' life was at stake, Porthos could not afford to lose.

'There might be a part of me that wants to return to your side. I will confess the soldiering life is not what I thought it would be,' he lied.

'All that standing about guarding the King? At least here you served a higher purpose. You were a leader of men. You can be so again.'

'With you as the Queen? Would I be serving you, or will I be equal to you?'

Flea allowed a smile to play across her lips; she looked up at him through long eyelashes.

'You will always be my equal,' she said. 'But you will have to prove yourself to Asim and his men. Things have changed. Many of the men you knew in your time here are gone. The new men don't know you as they did. Asim remembers you, but he also sees you as a different man. You need to build up trust with my army.'

'Your army?'

'As you said, I am the Queen,' whispered Flea, leaning up closer to his ear.

She rested her hand on his arm, allowing her fingers to trace lines down the sleeve of his doublet, never taking her eyes off him in the process. For a moment Porthos became lost in memories of their time together. The way her hair fell about her shoulders, the soft touch of her hands on his skin, the brush of her lips as they kissed.

'You remember what it was like,' she said, as though she could read his mind. 'Did you think of me when you were on the battlefield? Did the thought of me keep you warm at night when you had no shelter and only the sound of gunfire and shouts to keep you company?'

Porthos closed his eyes for a few moments and nodded.

'The thought of you accompanied me into the thick of the action. I wasn't fighting for France or the King,' he said, looking down at her, 'I was fighting for you.'

He wondered if the words were the truth for a moment. He wondered if he had missed his life in the Court for a moment. He wondered if the power he had wielded was something he could have again for a moment.

For a moment.

And then he remembered the lies. The deceit. The plots. There had been good times in the Court. There had been good times with her. But that was gone. He was a different man now. He had a different, better, life. And he would never leave it. Never betray his real friends. The friends that would lay down their lives for him. The friends that he would willingly die for.

He forced himself to maintain the act. He had to make her believe he was genuine in his wish to return. He had to make her believe that freeing Athos was not the only reason he had returned.

He let his eyes flick towards the large bed that dominated the room, for a second before he looked at her again. A coy smile from Flea was all he needed to know that his act was still in place and being believed.

As much as he did not want to be with her, he knew he had to. He needed to build her trust in him. And he could not think of a better way to make her believe he was serious. He had loved her once. Perhaps a part of him still did.

'You don't want to rush off and search for Athos?' she asked.

Porthos shook his head, 'you've said he's still alive. I want to show you that I trust you.'

'But I don't know where he is, or who took him. I have only heard that he is here.'

'You would have heard if he'd been killed,' said Porthos. 'I may have been gone for many years, but I know how news travels here. You would know.'

Porthos could only hope what he was saying was still true.

Flea tilted her head for a second thoughtfully, 'I suppose you are right. And the fact that you are prepared to leave Athos to sit in his cell for a little longer goes a long way to proving where your loyalty lies.'

Something in the way Flea had worded her response caused Porthos to doubt himself for a moment. She may have guessed Athos was being kept in one of the Court's makeshift cells. But she also might have known he was being kept in one. The cells were dotted about the Court. All were kept ready for valuable people or people who were to be tried by the members of the Court for a serious offence. Justice was swift in the Court.

Did Flea know more than she was letting on? Porthos was sure she did. For the first time since he had walked back into the Court, he felt vulnerable. As the pieces fell into place, Porthos began to let the seed of doubt creep into his mind. Was he being used? Was he being toyed with?

But he was in a dangerous position. He could not change his tack at that moment. If he backed out of the seduction, Flea would know he had worked it out. And that would not only put Athos in more danger. It would compromise Aramis and d'Artagnan as well.

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