A/N: I'd really like to thank each one of you. I've never thought this story could have been so successful in such a short time! I just hope you'll like the next chapters as well
I also would like to thank the amazing girl who betaed this story for me since I started writing it almost 3 years ago now, InserImaginativeNameHere. I don't know if you are still here, but really, thank you, and sorry if I didn't credit you in the first chapter!
Now, let's go back to our guys (and girls).
Happy reading!
Chapter 02
D'Artagnan suddenly felt the ground disappear from under his legs as something pulled at them, making him effectively fall on the ground. He groaned both from surprise and pain as all the air was forced out from his lungs.
Quickly, he rolled so that he could see who was attacking him, breathing to find the strength to pull up and fight. He realized that during the fall he had loosened the grip on his pistol, which lay far enough from him that he couldn't reach it.
Without even thinking, and seeing his attacker was letting him the time to reach for his sword, he pulled out his main gauche, pulling himself up at the same time.
He shifted as his opponent drew the sword against his chest and moved behind him, only to realize it was facing the very angry and very determined gaze of his wife.
He blocked her arms and twisted her wrist hard enough to force her to let the sword go, caught by surprise when she pulled out from only God knew where the main gauche. It was a pure miracle he managed to avoid the straight shot aimed at his throat.
The Gascon hit her wrist with his own, aiming for a bone-to-bone contact which hurt him as well as her, but as unexpected as it was, she cried out in pain and the dagger hit the ground.
"Constance!" he shouted in his best command tone "Stop!"
It was obvious that fear and tension had her in full fight or flight mode, and no one better than D'Artagnan knew she never chose the second one.
Three hours before
"His Majesty" Constance bowed in front of the King before doing the same in front of the Queen.
"Constance." The Queen rose from his chair and pulled the woman into a warm hug "How many times do I have to tell you. Here it is just Anne." She smiled, but Constance didn't miss the look in Louis' eyes.
Sometimes, Constance asked herself (and also to D'Artagnan) how it was even possible that Louis was Aramis' son and at the same time as unbearable as the previous King was, and he had now lived with the former Musketeer as much time as he had lived with him!
"The Queen should probably learn how to behave in front of the King," the young Louis stated.
"And you, my King, should really show your Mother and Madame D'Artagnan the respect they deserve. There's a reason if your Mother considers her one of her dearest friends, one of those she feels she can treat as an equal," Aramis spoke, as usual, without thinking. Constance inwardly rolled her eyes. Aramis would never change. At least D'Artagnan had learnt to shut his mouth from both Athos and Treville. His Gascon nature united with Aramis' freshness would have surely brought him to a death sentence very soon.
From the older Musketeers he had also learnt how to outflank orders. That, combined with Aramis' chosen words, made them an even more incredible team than before when it came to bring a justice slightly different than the one ordered by the still too young to reign by himself Louis.
A chill ran down her spine as Louis' eyes turned icy and, for just a second, she feared the worst.
Then Louis spoke, using a command tone and a superiority no kid should be aware to have at his age. Everything in his posture showed he was totally witting of the power he held in his little hands.
"And you, Monsieur Aramis, should really learn how to show the proper respect to your King. You are the Prime Minister, and you serve me. Remember that"
Don't smile, Aramis. She warned inside her head. Don't Smile. She realized in that moment she was telling that to both herself and the man, who bent on his knees until the right one touched the ground, and lowered his head, and Constance was sure in that moment, that the man was using the reverential gesture as an excuse to pull on a mask of seriousness. When he dared to lift his head, keeping his eyes low, he was deadly serious.
"You are absolutely right, Her Majesty. I beg for your forgiveness." He paused and waited for the formal gesture of the King before speaking again and, this time, Constance knew Aramis was choosing his words very carefully. "Still, Madame D'Artagnan was the one who saved you during the battle for the throne after your beloved father died," he pointed out, being careful to put as much respect as he could in his speech to sound as if he was not imposing him to pay Constance respect. "She also saved your Mother during those days. Lastly, she helped during the restoration of the King's Musketeers. What I was trying to say is that she deserves the same respect we show to Captain D'Artagnan".
Constance felt something in her throat and moisture in her eyes. It was the first time that someone dared to ask the King to show her some respect. Okay, that was Aramis speaking, still it felt good, for a second. Still, she saw the King was anything but near to calming down, so, once again, she spoke to save the irreverent Musketeer's life.
"Your words are more than welcome, Monsieur Aramis," she answered, bowing to the King while speaking, "But the King is right. It was my duty as a Paris citizen, as a Musketeer's wife and as the Queen lady-in-waiting to do everything I could to protect the King and France. What I did was just my duty, and I am deeply grateful for being honored by the Queen's friendship and to be welcome to stand and talk in front of her Majesty." Then, for good measure, she added,with a second bow, "I also beg your forgiveness for my informal dress. I was working in the garrison when the Queen called for me, and I did not think of changing my clothes".
Louis was as easily manipulated by few well chosen words as his father had been, and her respectful words made their magic. The king's face relaxed and he smiled at her, with a smirk that was definitely Aramis'.
"You are more than welcome at the palace at any time, as my beloved Mother wishes. You are also working very hard to help my Musketeers, and for that I am grateful. Just be more careful the next time, Madame D'Artagnan." And without any other words, the king stood and ordered his nurse and page to lead him to his rooms since he was tired and wanted to sleep.
As soon as the King disappeared, the Queen ordered everyone to leave, and to close the doors, so that the three of them could be alone.
Constance looked at Aramis, who was shaking his head with his trademark smirk on his face, the one Constance loved and hated at the same time, because she had to admit it was charming and annoying at the same time, and it totally drove her nuts.
"When will you learn?" she asked, in a tone she knew was very similar to the one Treville used when he chided his favourite soldiers.
"To do what? Ass-kissing?" he shot back smiling.
"Careful, Musketeer," she warned "You may be the Prime Minister, but I will slap you again if you don't behave"
"She has a point," Anne spoke finally, knowing that the two of them could go on like that forever if no one interjected.
"I do not deserve to be slapped," he stated, producing one of his angelic smiles and expressions. "Ever."
Constance exchanged a meaningful glance with Anne at that.
"Thank you, by the way." She smiled at him "It is amazing how similar he is to Louis, even if they lived together only for a few years, and at the same time, so different"
She left unsaid that all the differences were, actually, very similar to a certain former Musketeer, but, even if they were theoretically safe, their secret shall remain secret.
"I am not so sure it is a good thing," Anne commented, obviously remembering how the former King used to be manipulated by all the people who had other interests other than France.
Thinking back, Richelieu and his conspiracies were not that bad compared to Rochefort's or his brother's. At least, the Cardinal actually cared about France, in his own way. Constance also knew from her days as lady-in-waiting Anne didn't really like how he used to treat the Musketeers, always giving the Red Guards more credit than they actually deserved; a credit which should have been directed to the only people who acted truly for love of France and the King and that only because Treville had never wanted to be a politician, not until he realized it was the only way to keep the Reign safe from people like Rochefort and Richelieu.
Ultimately, he acted as a true Musketeer would have, putting himself at the service of France.
His death was still painful for all of them.
Constance would never forget how much he always valued her opinion. In a world made of men, and for men, he treasured her like no one had done before. Okay, no one except his three best men.
"He is stronger than him," Constance objected "Of course, he is a King and he loves to be adulated, but he's surrounded by people who really care about him and speak him the truth even when it is not the right time." She glanced at Aramis, who gave her a smirk as an answer. "He will grow up strong, wise and brave as his parents are".
Anne and Aramis exchanged a sweet glance and smiled, then Anne invited Constance to sit with her, while Aramis excused himself and went back to work.
They were talking about the Musketeers' new recruits when Aramis barged into the rooms, pushing the King in front of him to shield him with his body; his sword unsheathed in his right hand and the main gauche in his left.
Constance was on her feet and ahead of the Queen before he could even start talking.
Louis ran toward his mother, looking for her safe arms around him.
"We are under attack!" Aramis exclaimed, tossing her his sword, which Constance caught on it's going with an expert hand.
"The Musketeers?" she asked immediately.
"They are trying to stop them," he replied "But they are too many. Even if they were us, there's no chance they can stop all of them"
"How did they manage to enter in the first place?" Anne inquired, a fire in her eyes that demanded an explanation, as she kept her son close to her, trying to soothe his fear.
"The hell if I know," he replied, probably more sharply than he intended. "I can only assume someone helped them to sneak inside. They are an army! There's no chance D'Artagnan and his men didn't notice them otherwise!"
Swords clashing and strong voices of orders came to their ears.
"There's no time!" Constance shouted. "We have to go. Now!"
And, without looking back, sure Aramis would stand in front of the door, she ran and moved one of the heavy curtains that covered the room's walls.
She didn't hesitate to move one of them, revealing the door reserved to ladies-in-waiting for reaching the Queen's room from their lodging downstairs. It only had to be used when the Queen didn't want to show anyone what she would wear during a ball, or a fest, or if she needed to send a direct message to the King without anyone else knowing.
Constance knew it was a risk to take that road, but if Aramis was right (and he usually was when it came to battles), it was their only way out, unless they wanted to jump from the window.
The woman exchanged a quick glance with the former Musketeer and he gave her a small nod.
"Go!" He shouted. "Protect the Queen! Call for help!"
"Aramis!" Anne hesitated as Constance tried to push her into the small passage "Aramis!"
"Go," he repeated, but his words were interrupted as at least five men pushed them back into the rooms from the small passage. Were they hiding in there too?
She didn't have time to think. She pushed the Queen behind herself as she faced the newcomers, withdrawing into the center of the rooms.
The Queen's Ladies-in-waiting ran into the rooms, crying for help, but they fell abruptly, killed by clean shots. More men came from the door, and suddenly the four of them found themselves surrounded.
"It's been an honor and a privilege to fight at your side, Constance. One for all," murmured Aramis
"Me too. All for one," Constance replied.
They knew they were probably their last words. There were at least fifteen enemies in the rooms, too much even for them, but they couldn't surrender. Not now. They were ready to die for the people they loved.
The men attacked.
They readied their weapons.
"Constance!" D'Artagnan was still fighting to stop her from hurting both of them.
He was grabbing her from behind, his arms around hers to prevent her from swaying her sword too much and his hand grabbing her wrists.
Slowly, and fighting, he managed to rotate her so that she could see his face.
He saw terror and anger in her eyes, which showed no sign of recognizing him. Her right eye was swollen and black, and she had a cut on the same cheek.
"Constance!" he called out again, before using his final resource, one he never used even with any of his soldiers if it wasn't more than necessary.
"Musketeer Constance D'Artagnan" he sharply shouted at her face, his eyes and voice cold and strong "Stop fighting, right now!"
When she finally stopped struggling with him, he almost lost his balance.
"It worked!" he marvelled as her eyes suddenly became aware.
Of course it worked, he thought after a second. If she had been born a man, she would probably have been a decorated Musketeer. Yet no, she was a woman, and she didn't have even the right to wear the Musketeers pauldron. He really wished he could change that, as he knew Treville had. He had appointed her as the chief of the garrison while he, Athos and Porthos had been at war, and for a well-founded reason.
She had managed to keep all of them safe, and also to drive the Red Guards nuts even better than the Inseparables had done before. After five years, the humiliation of exposing them naked was one of the first stories the older Musketeers told the new recruits.
It had a double function: it taught them that no one could hurt them without consequences and that you did not mess with Constance D'Artagnan. Also, it was a funny story.
"D'Artagnan!" she let herself rest against his chest as he held her tight to him.
"Constance!" he breathed her name as it was the most important thing in the world. He had really feared the worst, and finding her not only alive, but able to stand and fight, was a real miracle.
"D'Artagnan!" she called again, as she released the tension with desperate tears.
D'Artagnan knew he should not lose time and question her, still, he couldn't bring himself to do that, not right now at least. He could feel her body shaking against his.
He kissed her hair as she cried, trying to soothe her with gentle, whispered words. She was the first one to move, just to look him in the eyes, hers full of tears.
"They… they took them. They…there were…too many…I am…so sorry…we… we...couldn't…"
"Shh, shh," he reassured her "It's okay. It's okay. I am sure you have done anything in your power to stop them and stay alive at the same time".
"I…I failed…"
By now, he knew better than to tell her she wasn't a Musketeer, and therefore she didn't have to risk her life in a battle, so he chose a different strategy.
"Constance, there are ten of our finest men out there, deadly shots. You are good, and I know you have tried your best. There was nothing more you and Aramis could do. You survived, and you can tell me what happened, and help us find them. Okay?"
Slowly, she nodded, taking a few deep breaths to regain her composure. He couldn't help but feel proud of how she was facing this critical situation, even if he knew how strong she was. It was what made him fall in love with her in the first place.
"Okay. I'll take you to the Doctor now."
"There's no time," she objected.
"I am taking you to the Doctor," he retorted in his no-arguments-allowed tone.
"Yes, sir," she half-mocked him, driving a small smirk to his lips despite the situation.
D'Artagnan left Constance in the caring hands of the doctor and returned to the garrison, sending his eldest soldiers to keep guard to the palace with the strict order not to let anyone inside but him and the other Musketeers.
He didn't have to specify that Constance had clearance too.
He sat on the corner bench near the mess, the one he used to sit in with his best friends, and hid his face into his hands for a second, trying to collect his thoughts.
He would have to write and send condolence letters to the dead Musketeers' families, to let them know they died with honor in the line of duty. Then he had to start a proper investigation, which meant questioning Constance in the first place, and then searching the rooms and their surroundings just in case Aramis managed to leave a lead for him to follow. He knew by instinct that it should have been something he should do himself, that he could be the only one able to find the possible trace left behind.
What else?
He passed his hand through his long hair, as the real and biggest problem came to his mind. How could he manage the absence of the three most powerful persons in the whole France without encouraging France's enemies into a war?
Suddenly, he felt terrified. He realized that, for the very first time in his life as a Musketeer, the future of France was in his hands.
He was not a politician and still he was basically now the one he had to decide how to rule France in what he hoped would be just a few days.
He forbade his mind to think about the possibility that the King, the Queen and Aramis would never be found, or worse, found dead, otherwise he would most likely go crazy.
"D'Artagnan…"
The young man raised his head, only to meet Porthos' eyes looking at him.
"You will have a scar for a while, but there is no need for stitches, Constance. The bruises and swelling on your eye will disappear alone, just treat it with cold water"
Porthos was leaving the doctor's lab with Marie-Colette when he heard the doctor's words, and there, he stopped.
He didn't want to eavesdrop, but he would bet anything he had there was only one girl in Paris named Constance who would risk needing stitches and could have a swollen eye.
"Thank you, Doctor. And forgive D'Artagnan…"
"He was just worried. Nothing to forgive. Be safe, Constance, and call me if you need anything."
Porthos cradled Marie into his arms and waited outside for the woman to leave the lab before approaching her.
"What happened? Are you okay?" he asked her.
"Porthos!" she nearly jumped. "Yeah…yes… well...not exactly…"
Constance didn't know exactly what she could tell him.
He was no longer a real Musketeer, having retired, still this was beyond duty. He and Aramis had been best friends for years, and their bond was, if possible, even tighter than the one the four Inseparables shared, maybe because they knew each other for a longer time.
"What happened, Constance? Is D'Artagnan okay? What about the Musketeers?"
Of course, his first thought was for his friends and his men. Seeing her like this, and knowing that there were still people who hated the regiment, he was worried about the garrison.
"No… I mean," she corrected as she saw Porthos' face going pale. "He is okay. And the garrison is safe…"
"What are you not telling me?" he inquired. Then he seemed to understand "Is it about Aramis? Has something happened?"
She couldn't lie anymore.
She, the woman who lied to her first husband looking him into his eyes, could not bear to stare into that brown, deep gaze and lie.
She would and could not do that to Porthos.
Plus, she knew D'Artagnan would need his help to get through this and survive.
"Yes" she decided "But not here. The Garrison. Meet me there in an hour."