Bonjour, les amis!

So, I am attempting to write a new story. Yikes! Hope you like. I don't own The Three Musketeers, Alexandre Dumas does.

I recently watched The Three Musketeers 2011 movie starring-yeah, you guessed it, Luke Evans!-and enjoyed it, even though it was most likely not the most novel point version. Didn't LOVE it, I liked it, and the casting was good.

And now I am listening to The Three Musketeers audiobook on YouTube. Honestly, it's been pretty refreshing after listening to so many disparaging, blood coiling, and heartbreaking content in the Game of Thrones audiobooks!

Anyway, the casting of Aramis, Porthos, and Athos was well done. And Logan Lerman too.

I'm writing a story where D'Artagnan has a younger sister traveling with him to Paris. They are Gascons, so naturally they get into one misadventure after another! It will mostly be based off the movie, but I will include some things from the book too. Hope you all enjoy it. Reviews would be helpful!

One tip, if you don't like my OC, D'Artagnan's sister and think she's weak just because she's not your typical OC in this fandom, I ask that you at least give her a chance! You might change your mind later if you keep reading the story! She does at least know how to sword fight for self defense, though her brother is much better at it.

This is my second new story in a completely different fandom that I've posted in the passed week!

In the beautiful French countryside, two men were dueling one another in the wide, green open fields of Gascony. They parried each other off with precise, swift movements. Finally, it came to an end, when Maurice D'Artagnan had his son at an imaginary disadvantage. "Not again." D'Artagnan gave his father an exasperated look.

"Your adversary will not always be as noble as you. Remember that." Maurice warned him. D'Artagnan nodded. "And...I have nothing left to teach you." Maurice sighed.

"I doubt that, Father." D'Artagnan grinned, handing his sword to his father."

"No, keep it. It's passed down generation to generation from father to son. It's yours now."

D'Artagnan held the blade out toward the sun, gazing on it as it were a rare jewel. His bosom burnt with pride as the silver steel glinted in the sunlight. "The weapon of a musketeer." He murmured in awe.

"The real weapon of a musketeer is here." Maurice patted his chest, over his heart. "Ahh, here comes your sister."

"Hooray." D'Artagnan said sarcastically.

Two women came walking up to them, a stout Dapple Gray horse between them. The older of the ladies had a few wrinkles here and there, and honey colored hair, but a sweet smile all the same. The younger of the two, a bit shorter was clothed in her traveling wardrobe: a red vest under her cloak, a dark blue hat, a simple skirt partially pinned up on the side to make horseback riding easier, and...a pair of boy's breeches underneath! Her auburn waves of hair bounced up and down as they approached.

"You sure that you have your toiletries? And an extra pair of bloomers? Oh, and your winter shawl?" Madame D'Artagnan asked in a rush.

"Honestly, Mother! You know I do." Felice D'Artagnan shook her head. That's about the fiftieth time you've asked me!

"Did you double check?"

"Four times. Don't worry." Felice chuckled. They halted as they reached the D'Artagnan men.

"Are we all set then?" Maurice asked.

"Yes, Father." Felice answered.

"Well, you two should really be on your way." Maurice said hesitantly. "Of course, you will need a mount. Your mother insists that you take Buttercup. I know it's not much, but…"

"It's plenty." D'Artagnan smiled.

"Buttercup may not be one of those sleek, pampered, graceful steeds like the officers wear. But she has a lot of heart. Don't you, girl?" Felice gushed up at the horse, tickling her chin.

Madame D'Artagnan's eyes grew misty. "Be careful, my son. And try not to get into into any fits." She hugged her tall, dashing son.

"If I'm going to be a musketeer, I'm gonna have to do a bit of fighting." D'Artagnan reminded her.

"Well...stay at the back if you can."

"No promises!" D'Artagnan shrugged.

"Goodbye, my dear." Maurice said to his daughter, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Father." Felice gulped.

"You watch yourself now. Don't...don't go taking off with the first rich lad that comes to call on you!" Maurice spoke in a choked voice.

"I won't, Father. And I hardly believe I shall have the time."

"You'll put the ladies of Paris to shame with your beauty." He kissed her head.

"Father."

"Just wait and see, Father. The next time you see her, she shall be dressed as one of them! A true lady of society." D'Artagnan teased.

"No thank you." Felice shook her head. "You shall see, Father. In six months' time, I will be the finest baker in all of Paris, making fresh breads and delicate pastries for the king and queen's own table!"

"So you shall. I love you, Felice Emilia D'Artagnan." He cupped her cheek.

"I love you too, Father." Felice said with wet eyes. Maurice embraced her warmly then moved onto his son as Felice sidled over to her mother.

"I have one more piece of advice." Maurice said.

"I know, I know. Don't get into trouble." D'Artagnan remarked dryly as his father hugged him.

"Wrong! Get into trouble! Make mistakes. Fight, love, live."

"I will."

"I won't say goodbye." Madame D'Artagnan's lip trembled as she held her girl's hands.

"Me neither." Felice sniffed, trying to keep down a sob.

"Remember all we've taught you."

"Yes, Mother."

"God be with you, my love." Her mother hugged her tightly, then forced herself to break away. "Both of you!"

"And remember always, you're a Gascon, and our children. Now go. Go!" Maurice told them.

"Charles! Do you have your letter of introduction for Monsieur de Treville?!" Madame D'Artagnan blurted out.

"Yes, Mother." D'Artagnan chuckled dryly. "It's right...uhh...right…" He reached into his jacket pocket but was not finding what he wanted. Panic washed over him and he tried to keep a calm countenance.

"You mean this letter?" Felice smirked, holding it up in front of his nose. He set his jaw.

"Yes." He groaned, plucking it from her fingers. "You'd better do as I say, you hear?" He huffed as he mounted Buttercup.

"I'm not a child anymore, dear brother. I'm sixteen-years-old!" Felice announced. D'Artagnan rolled his eyes, but offered his hand and helped her mount up behind him. "You're a prickly gentleman."

"Me? Prickly? Never!"

"Felice darling, keep an eye on your hard-headed brother and make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble." Madame D'Artagnan called.

"Oh, I will." Felice promised.

"You're the one I'm going to need to keep an eye on." D'Artagnan argued the point.

"We share the same blood, but that does not mean we always share the same brains." Felice told him.

"Thank God!" D'Artagnan teased.

"Off with you now!" Maurice interrupted them.

"Goodbye, Mother! Goodbye, Father!" Felice waved.

"Come on, Buttercup!" D'Artagnan urged the horse into a light canter, Felice holding onto his waist. The wind kissed away her tears as they rode off from the house of their childhood to begin their new lives.

"Well, onto the future!" D'Artagnan cheered.

Well? So far?