Hi!
Welcome! This is my new story, the first one I write for this fandom. I really hope you like it!
English is not my first language, so, feel free any error you may find!
This story is settled about 5 years after the series finale.
Drop a review if you liked it!
HAPPY READING
CHAPTER 01
D'Artagnan knew something was wrong the moment he entered the palace.
Since the Red Guards had been dismissed after the near missed civil war right after the King's death, the Musketeers had taken their place, in addition to their new duty as a security corp for the people in the streets of Paris, and there were always someone walking through the corridors, keeping an eye on the surroundings. And, of course, there was Aramis.
He was no longer a Musketeer, having accepted the role of Prime Minister to the side of the Queen, but the young Captain knew that in case of danger, Aramis was still the best and last hope to save the Queen.
He had many good marksmen and swordsmen in his regiment, but no one (well okay, maybe no one except himself) was even equal to Aramis or Athos or Porthos.
D'Artagnan missed them, and was grateful when he could convince Aramis to train with him as in the old times.
Usually he met at least four or five of his men on duty while walking the Queen's rooms, but not today, at least not until he turned a corner and saw ten of his men deadly shot in their head. Clean work which could have been Aramis' work if Aramis had been on duty, or a traitor, which he wasn't.
A cold chill ran down his spine, and he knew it was selfish, but his first thought was for Constance. Although she wasn't one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting anymore, the two women had become good friends during their adventures together, especially after the events right after the King's death, and Constance used to visit the Queen every now and then. And today was one of those days.
She can defend herself as well as you do, he reminded himself, trying to stay calm so that he could focus on his main duties: the Queen and the young Louis, who was now 10 or so.
He was also concerned for Aramis, of course, since the man spent almost every moment he had beside the Queen and the kid, but, as already said, Aramis was still Aramis.
Gun at ready, he slowed his pace while approaching the private sitting room of the Queen and the King, an almost sacred place where only an elect few were permitted. D'Artagnan was very proud to admit that Constance was one of those one. He was too, of course, but he was the Captain of the King's Musketeers, and in case of emergency he could go basically everywhere at any time.
There was silence. Too much silence.
He slowly opened the slightly opened door carefully, minding to keep himself hidden behind it in case of gunfire.
He knew he was risking being shot or hit by Aramis, but he couldn't take the risk to announce himself. He just hoped he wasn't aiming for his head or any other vital organ. His arm stretched, he made his pistol seen. When nothing happened, he carefully made a half step forward, looking at the room.
The three ladies-in-waiting were spread on the floor, their light pink dresses stained with their blood. D'Artagnan shivered as his thoughts went, again, to his wife and then shifted to Aramis. His friend was probably in that room too when it had happened. He tried not to think that he could have lost both his wife and his brother.
Focus on your mission, lad.
He could almost hear Athos' voice in his head. No matter who was involved, his first duty was to find out what happened.
Besides the voice continued until you stay here, you will never know their fate.
D'Artagnan steeled himself for whatever else would find in that room and took a step forward, almost sure that whoever had done that mess, was well away from there now.
Still cautious, he stopped and listened carefully.
There was no sound coming from the inside of the room, so he finally entered.
Immediately, he crouched beside the three lady-in-waiting, searching for a pulse even if their empty gazes already told everything he needed to know.
Aramis had taught him always to check for life, even when evidence told him against it, and now, pacing in the room careful not to touch anything, he really hoped to find a pulse when he would find him and Constance. And the Queen and the King.
He frowned, realizing he was more worried about his friend and wife than the Crown. Sometimes, he felt as if he was still a cadet, that Gascon boy with no training and who thought more with his heart than his brain.
He recognized Constance's feet and her soft boots, her favourites and, just for a second, he simply froze. They were coming from one of the tables, as if she had tried to hide herself. A sword, which he recognized as the one Aramis always wore at his side, laid nearby, very near to her soft and immobile hand.
Everything was incredibly still and silent, so silent he could hear his heart racing into his chest. He couldn't bring himself to check on her.
He felt as the night the garrison was destroyed, when he was holding her into his arms, hoping she would just wake up and scold him for being reckless and idiot.
He looked around, but no one else was in the room.
The Queen, the King and Aramis were gone.
He had to find them.
He had to check on Constance.
He had to know if she was still alive.
Forcing himself to move despite his body reluctance, he moved forward the woman he loved, desperately wishing she was just unconscious and not… he couldn't even think about that possibility without starting to shake.
Still, he knew that, sooner or later, he had to touch her and find out the truth.
He crouched near the lady, closed his eyes and reached for her neck with his fingers.
He was so focused on his fear, he didn't sense the attack until it happened.
As every single day, Athos finished his morning routine of training with his sword.
Even if he was no longer a Musketeer, and he had been away from Paris since the day he left to start a new existence with Sylvie, he never missed a day of training, except for illness or taking care of her during the last days of her pregnancies, and even during those days, sometimes she pushed him outside to release some of his tension.
He had never said that out loud, but Sylvie just knew he missed Paris and his former life as a Musketeer.
She could feel he wasn't unhappy with their new life together, in a small house in one the lands he'd inherited from his father; he loved her and their children with his whole soul, and he spent with them as much time as his duties allowed him.
He was no longer the Comte of his lands, he had kept his promises and the lands were still of the people who lived on them, but he helped with tax management and so on, ensuring that every single person had enough food and supplies for living.
He treated himself and his family as equal to the other families in the land, and, for this reason, all of them accepted him without complaint.
With Athos' guide and help, the former Comte De La Fère's lands were prospering and people quite happy.
He also learnt how to help to fix things, mostly walling and restoration of old or damaged houses. He was always at people's service, and Sylvie could discover an even better side of her husband living with him here.
Plus, Athos had taught all the able men and women who wanted to learn how to fight, and, when it was needed, they were able to put on the run group of outlaws who tried to attack them.
Both Sylvie and Athos had soon learnt that being away from the city, also meant the Musketeers were not always there to defend them, and that if they wanted to survive, they had to find an unofficial way first and then send someone for help.
Sylvie had to admit D'Artagnan helped them to stay out of prison on that side. It happened that Athos had been too… enthusiastic during a fight, always finding a why to justify his friend's actions. Aramis and the Queen, of course, also helped a little bit, even if Aramis officially asked him to be more gentle with his unwanted guests.
Still, Athos hadn't lost some aspects of his military life, like his morning training, or keeping the house perfectly clean and orderly.
Yes, Athos was definitely a new, happy man with his new family.
They had three kids. Their first was a boy, who was now almost five, named Jean in honor of the man who saved Athos when he was lost after Thomas' and Milady's death, and who died months before he was born. She expected, actually, to call the boy Thomas, but Athos had wanted to honor Captain Treville, because he was convinced that if the man had not recruited him as a Musketeer, he and Sylvie would have never met. More than that, he truly believed he would have been already dead on wine.
A year after Jean, they were blessed with two twin baby girls, named Constance, after D'Artagnan's wife, and Anna, as the mother superior of the convent in which he and Aramis had defended the Queen years ago, because Athos really hoped they would become strong and independent women, brave and willing to fight for what they love with all their strength and capability.
The fact that the babies survived against any probability after a difficult labour, already told them that at least they were as stubborn as their father, which Sylvie wasn't completely sure to be a good thing, actually.
For being a quite closed man when it came to showing his feelings, Athos proved to be a caring father, especially when he thought she wasn't there to see his wide open smile and his loving fussing over them. He had a reputation, after all.
They had been to Paris a couple of times since they left the city, mostly to visit D'Artagnan and Aramis, and she knew Athos kept a regular correspondence with both of them, particularly with the youngest of their friends.
Still, Sylvie simply knew he missed the garrison and his previous life as a soldier. More likely, he missed his friends, his brothers, the ones who risked everything for each other and their loved ones.
Athos had new friends in the lands now, but she knew he didn't, better couldn't develop such a brotherhood as he had with Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan. She was actually thinking about going back to the city, when the children were old enough and she didn't have to die of worry about them. She was absolutely sure D'Artagnan would take back Athos at his side without even thinking about it once, and she was sure she could help Constance with her work at the garrison.
That would have to wait, though. The children were too young for such a life, and the garrison was no place for children to grow up at.
She knew Constance couldn't likely have children, so the garrison was the right place for her. She knew she loved to take care of the youngest recruits, the ones who didn't have a family in Paris, or a family at all and, okay, maybe she also liked to scare them with a single glare; that was what Athos thought, at least.
He swore not even the Inseparables dared to confront her or risk to make her angry. She had laughed so hard about Aramis getting slapped for putting D'Artagnan's life at risk.
She could totally see Constance doing that.
She missed Constance.
She had to admit that, maybe, Athos wasn't the only one who missed Paris.
Porthos woke with a start, only to find Elodie, his wife, looking at him with worried eyes.
"Sorry" he mumbled, trying to force his body to stop shaking.
He managed to come home from war two months ago, and had decided to retire from active duty, at least for now.
He was sick of fighting, of seeing people dying by his hands and under his command. He had come home full of regrets and guilt, even if a large part of his soldier were able to go back to their families.
When he left Paris after his marriage with Elodie, he was truly convinced he wasn't cut for a different life than the one of a soldier, and he was glad Elodie had understood his need and let him go, even if that meant she should had lived alone with her young daughter, Marie-Colette.
It was nothing new to her, since the father of her daughter had died during war, but still he had felt incredibly loved and lucky that she was willingly to let him go, even if that was for her the repetition of a nightmare.
During war, though, something has changed in him. He discovered himself wondering about an easier and safer life with Elodie, in a small village near Paris, or even in the city, but out of the garrison and the soldier routine which had been all his life.
As he finally got home, he resigned his commission to D'Artagnan, fearing that he would deny it.
Instead, his friend simply smiled at him and hugged him tight, accepting it without a single word of complaint.
Still, the Queen and the King both insisted for him to keep his grade and commission as a retired Musketeer, granting him a stable entry to live, a small gratification for everything he had done and risked to protect France. They both insisted that he had no obligation of returning to active duty if he didn't want to, but also that, if he wanted to come back, he would always have a spot between the King's Musketeers.
Aramis had never admitted it, and probably he would never, but Porthos had the more than a well-founded suspicion that he and D'Artagnan had helped the Queen coming up with this compromise, to still let him a chance to go back if he changed his mind.
In exchange, he still helped D'Artagnan train the young recruits. He was still one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in Musketeers history, and his experience had great value to the regiment.
Plus, he wasn't always at home bothering Elodie, which was more than good for her.
Elodie had agreed about that too, but, as his friends, she had now understood he would probably never go back.
Once he got home, he discovered war was still inside him. He felt it each time he closed his eyes at night, or each time he heard a different noise around their home.
He always kept his main gauche with him, and both his pistol and sword were always clean and ready to use.
Like now, it was not rare for Elodie to wake him up from a nightmare he was trapped in, even if those episodes were now less frequent compared to the first days back in Paris.
He discovered Marie-Colette was really helping him on that side. She was now almost six and he was teaching her how to read and write, even if she was happier when he taught her how to use a sword or hand-to-hand fight.
She loved hand-to-hand, especially when the battle developed into tickling and laughter.
Elodie was not worried. She had always been a strong, independent woman, who never needed anyone to help her, and she was proud to say Marie was growing up just like her, with the full support of her daddy.
Maybe, one day France would need Porthos again, and Porthos would probably say yes once more, but, in the meantime, Elodie just enjoyed their family.
"...Mis! Mis!"
A young, broken voice brought him back to reality.
He blinked his eyes, forcing them to open, only to find the tears stained childish face of King Louis looking at him, his small hands shaking him by his shoulders.
Aramis suppressed the moan of pain that was escaping his lips as a throbbing pain started to spread from his left side, trying to stay calm, and in the meantime to recall what had happened and why Louis was crying.
"Mis!" The kid was using the informal nickname he used to call him with when they were in their private rooms. There was high distress and fear in both his voice and his eyes, which would have alerted him even if the King wasn't his son. "Mis! Wake up! Please! Mis!"
Only after a few moments he started to realize that there was an unfamiliar background behind Louis. These definitely weren't his rooms at the Louvre palace, and his back wasn't lying on the soft mattress of his bed.
The pain on his left side struck back as the kid gave him a stronger pull to make him get up, and as he tried to lift his head a sharp pain echoed inside him, so strong he had to bite the inside of his cheek to not cry out in sorrow.
Carefully he moved his arms until he reached Louis' and gave him a gentle squeeze to let him know he was awake. When no new pain hit him, he let his gaze move on the room they were in.
This definitely wasn't the Louvre.
Louis was now quiet, but Aramis sensed he was just trying to be brave now that he was awake. He couldn't help the sense of pride in his heart.
He briefly analyzed the place, then realized his head was not ready for collecting information and details yet, so the former Musketeer focused on trying to sit and reassure his King.
Very, very slowly, he moved his arms and body so that Louis was not over him anymore, but paying attention not to put too much distance between the two of them. He needed more room to move himself without risking making his injury(ies?) worse, but he didn't want Louis to feel rejected, either.
Carefully, he pushed himself up, just as the world started to spin around him.
"Mis!" Louis cried out his name, and Aramis realized he must have paled a couple of shades from the pain.
He lowered himself back on the ground but reached for the kid with his hand.
"Shh...shh" he tried to calm the boy, gently squeezing his hand into his. "I'll be alright, okay?" Aramis knew he could not just give no explanation to the King, as well as he knew that, when he wanted, the kid was fully aware of his position, and he wanted to avoid him to take the chance to order him to spill everything out.
Louis could be his biological child, but in the five years he could live with Louis XIII he had inherited too much from his adoptive father, and Aramis didn't really like it when he acted that way.
Plus, he could clearly see the boy's fear, and he knew his first duty was to keep him calm and safe. A scared kid, even if the king, would only make things worse.
He closed his eyes for a second, as he thought of what to say.
"I'm ok, Louie," he said as he opened his eyes, looking into the kid's one, which was the same exact shade of blue of his mother's.
The thought of Anne flashed into his mind, but he forced it back. He would think about it later.
"I hit my head somewhere, and now it's hurting a little bit, but it's nothing I can't handle" he managed to arrange a soft, reassuring smile for him.
"You couldn't sit," the kid stated.
"Yeah, that may happen with head injuries… remember when Captain D'Artagnan fell and hit his head?" He waited for the kid to recall the episode and nod before resuming his talk "Okay, you surely remember I made him lay down for a while before helping him back on his feet" Another nod "I'm feeling the same. I just woke up, and my head is hurting. I need some minutes, okay? But I am here with you, and I will protect you"
"Because it is your duty?" Louis asked and Aramis couldn't exactly point out the tone and meaning of the question.
By the look of his eyes, and the subdued tone of plea in his voice, it seemed as if the young King was hoping for a different answer than a simple "I'm doing it because it is my duty".
Aramis had the instinct to hug him tight and tell him no, it was not only his duty, that if he had only been his duty, he would have never accepted to be his Prime Minister, still, he couldn't. To reveal him such a thing would put all of them in great danger.
He opted for a slightly coward and questionable answer:
"I love you, my King, and it will always be my honor and privilege to defend you with all my might. I have been, and I always will be your trusted Musketeer".
He thought he had seen a flash of sadness in those big blue eyes, but he refused to think too much about it right now, and with his growing headache, he wasn't sure he wasn't seeing things that weren't there.
You are getting wise. Athos' voice echoed in his head.