Hey guys! So, this next chapter might well be one of the last ones you see for a few weeks. I'm in the middle of tech week for a production of "Anything Goes" and that will mean that I spend quite a bit of time at the theatre. Now, in the time that I spend sitting around waiting to do my part or stand under lights so they can focus them, I will hopefully be able to get some more writing and planning done, but I can't make any promises. Hopefully this chapter will help to make it up to you all for the waiting that will follow. Please send me a review when you finish reading it over! I love hearing from those of you who have subscribed to the story or to me, and if you share this with others I'd love you forever!
Chapter XVIII
"Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan!"
All eyes moved toward the open door and the four figures in black who stood in their perfect line, postures straight and tall as they prepared to make the journey down the center of the ballroom before the court and the numerous guests who had been invited to witness the ceremony. Together they began to move, their pace a little slower than usual to accommodate for D'Artagnan's recovery, passing by the endless sea of people without moving their eyes from their destination. Despite the carpet that had been laid out on the floor there was still a sound that echoed through the hall as they took each step toward the throne and the regal figures who awaited them, reverberating loudly against the marble surfaces of the ballroom floor and pillars. The King waited at the very end, standing before his throne with both arms behind his back and a small smile lit upon his face. Queen Anne remained on her throne, her hair once again loose around her shoulders as she watched the procession approach them. Both had chosen to dress in colours of scarlet and gold for the occasion, proudly displaying their wealthy and lineage to all that looked upon them from the floor. And as the four men reached the end of the carpet they moved to kneel before their King, D'Artagnan pressed tightly to Aramis for a moment as he was aided to the floor and then quickly moved apart to hide the fact that he was still suffering from his wound. Bowing their heads respectfully, they waited as Philippe took a few steps forward and looked down upon them.
"The four of you have shown me great loyalty and love by saving my life and preventing an impostor from taking my throne," came Philippe's strong voice, ringing clearly through the ballroom. "This I can repay with gold and medals and titles. But what I cannot repay is the debt I owe you for saving the people from France from being led by one who would not care for their well-being. This incident has opened my eyes to the needs of my people, and I now understand their anger toward me for having ignored their cries for help."
The court was still as they drank in the words of their monarch, but Porthos wondered just how many of them were silently thinking of the things that Louis had done in the past few weeks, remembering how the riots had begun and orders for people to be shot had been issued. Those were the people who had feared their King and hated any mention of his name, the people who would never be invited to celebrations such as this. And yet here, as he stood before but a handful of his subjects, he could clearly hear Philippe denouncing his brother as the would-be impostor that would have caused much more suffering if he had been given the chance.
"I owe you thanks for saving my country," he continued, his voice a little softer and much more intimate than it had been moments ago. "And for that, I reward you with these."
A footman stepped forward and bowed his head, offering out the pillow on which rested four medals of silver encrusted with a large sapphire in the middle of the moon-shaped design. Each hung from a black ribbon that then connected it to a pin, the way in which it would be placed upon their breast and left to rest against their heart. Philippe removed the first one from the pillow and moved to the far side, raising Athos to his feet so that the medal could be pinned to his uniform as he continued to speak before the court with the same commanding tone as before.
"Your courage to step forth when no other could do so is something to be admired by all musketeers; past, present and future." Next he moved to Porthos, repeating the gesture of asking him silently to rise to his feet as his hands busied with the process of leaving the medal upon his broad chest. "You have proven yourselves to be more than worthy of the uniforms you wear." Philippe turned and stepped down the line, standing before Aramis who rose slowly to his feet and stared ahead of him, avoiding eye contact with his King to keep with courtly protocol. "And I know that I am being served by the very best." His footsteps carried him at last to D'Artagnan, the captain of his musketeers as he looked down at the man with compassion in his eyes. "As was my father before me."
D'Artagnan braced himself, knowing that this would likely be the most difficult part of the entire evening for him. As the youngest of the four being honoured, he knew that he should have risen the easiest and stood tallest before his King, but the weakness he still experienced from the stab wound on his back was proving to make things far more difficult than he would have liked. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth in preparation for the pain that was to come, missing entirely the wave of Philippe's hand as he gestured for someone to come forward and aid in his movements. It felt like he had not moved at all despite the pain that shot through his back, resigning himself to the idea that he would need some kind of help when he felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder.
"Allow me."
His bright blue eyes shot up with a turn of his head, wide in surprise to see the familiar smile that looked upon him now as she offered out one of her smaller hands to him. There was only a glimmer of remembrance in his mind of his present location when he saw her, almost mistaking her for someone else entirely when he saw the way in which she was dressed. But he dared not say anything to her now, not with the whole court watching the elegant figure of a woman step forward to help him to his feet. Instead D'Artagnan simply nodded and took her hand, pushing himself against the cold floor until at last he could stand upright beside his friends. His eyes remained on her for a moment as she stepped back into her place slowly, his mind still reeling from seeing her there in such a manner.
"You were willing to give your own life to save mine," Philippe said, bringing D'Artagnan's attention back to the King and his reason for standing there. "Even if it meant that you would be leaving your friends and family, you were willing to give your life to protect your King. No man, whether he be the richest of kings or the poorest of paupers, could ever repay such an act."
There were no words to be spoken as the younger musketeer shared a small moment with his son, a moment that would not be seen by anyone else save for those who knew them best. And while the three men who stood beside him could not look over toward the King and his faithful captain, Queen Anne could, and there was no mistaking the look of pride she wore on her face at that moment. Her dark eyes turned slightly to share a glance with the girl who stood just behind her lover, the corners of her mouth perking a little when they too shared a secret message between them.
"As a man, I owe you my life," he said, looking now between the four of them as he stepped back a little and rose up the few steps to be seen over their heads. "But as a King, I owe you the welfare of my people."
Applause rang clearly through the ballroom as the various nobles began to shout their approval and good wishes for the four men, all of whom turned from their King and bowed to the people. It felt as if the room would shortly begin to shake from their combined enthusiasm before Philippe waved his hand and brought about silence once more. "Ladies and gentlemen, there is one other person I wish to honour and introduce to you tonight."
Murmurs rose softly among them as people began to turn in confusion and confide with their neighbor, wondering what else was in store for them. The four musketeers looked at one another with the same looks, unprepared for the sudden change in plan as they turned their heads to look up at Philippe, who simply smiled in return. With their questioning glances they stepped backward and to the side of the carpet, turning their attention to the person who stood directly across from them with a look of sheer terror written across her face.
"Katherine," came the King's soft voice as stepped down a little and offered her a hand. The whispers came to a halt as everyone strained to catch a glimpse of the person to whom the King spoke, leaning against each other as they tried to see from various angles.
Very slowly she stepped forward with light clicks of her heels against the marble flooring, her skirts swishing around her legs with each movement. The gown of silver and blue had been removed from the box and put onto her thin form under Queen Anne's watchful eye, the skirt lacking a number of petticoats underneath to give it a larger appearance as she had thought it to be far too much on the girl. The neckline was cut low enough to preserve her maiden modesty but allowed people to know that it was not the figure of a girl that lurked beneath it as tiny mounds of cleavage were visible. And for her hair, the Queen had done something that had initially made Katherine a little uncomfortable when she had brought forth a pair of scissors and began to snip away at the ends. But when she had finished it was still reasonably long, coming well past her shoulders so that she could manipulate it however she desired when the night was over. She had had it twirled a little to create little curls in the ends, pulling the sides of her hair back and up to be decorated with tiny white rosebuds that had been picked from the very gardens in which she had strolled with Philippe before. On her hands she wore no rings for she owned none, nor did she wear any other type of jewelry, which made her stand out all the more in a court full of bright colours and glittering diamonds.
Katherine lifted her hand and allowed him to wrap his fingers lightly around it as he led her to the middle of the carpeted floor, to the very spot in which her own father had stood only moments before. "Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to present to you Mademoiselle Katherine, the daughter of Aramis," he began, lifting his voice to be heard from all corners of the room. "This brave young woman was also present when my life was endangered by the impostor, fighting off men who came for me with skills I never thought a woman to possess. And when all was said and done, it was she who saved the life of D'Artagnan."
Philippe raised his hand, motioning toward the captain who continued to watch Katherine and Philippe, though his eyes had softened considerably since his son had first offered out his hand to his niece. "When the impostor came to realize that their plan had failed and he would lose his chance at the crown, he rushed forward to end my life with a dagger, which D'Artagnan took in my place. And while any of us would have seen his actions as a final move to protect his King, she saw it as a wound that she could heal, another soul that she could save."
She could feel every eye on her as Philippe continued to sing her praises before the whole court, wanting desperately to turn her head and look back toward her father though she knew it would be seen as a snub for her to turn away from the King. All she could do was stand there and feel her body trembling, the warmth creeping over her skin as tiny beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. "For your bravery, and your part in saving my life, I wish to give you this."
Philippe turned away from her to take a small box from the pillow that was presented by yet another footman and presented it to her, opening the top of it to show what lay inside. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing that Katherine had seen in her life, a simple necklace of silver on which dangled a cross of the same colour, large enough to be seen by someone a short distance away but small enough to decorate her throat without looking to be as gaudy as the items of jewelry worn by so many other women. Katherine was absolutely speechless as she looked upon it, her blue eyes stuck on the gift before they moved slowly upward to meet the smiling eyes of her King. Licking her lips, she lifted her voice and curtsied low.
"Your Majesty does me a great honour. But my reward for all of this is seeing you secured in your rightful place on the throne, and knowing that I helped to save the life of an innocent man who means a great deal to me."
He allowed her to remain in her position for only a moment before he gently lifted her back to her feet again, reaching around the back of her neck to clasp the chain together himself and then admire the way in which it sat against her skin. "You honour yourself, and your family, by being who you are," he told her, a little more softly so that his words were not heard the same way that they had been previously.
Daring to lift her head a little, Katherine again made eye contact with her monarch and could not help but feel a smile grow on his lips, which seemed to cause a reaction in Philippe as he lifted his body to face his people and clap his hands. "Go. Greet your family. Musicians! Play!"
The instant they heard the clap of the King's hands, the musicians in the hall struck up a lively tune that told all who were present that it was time for the better part of the evening. Couples instantly formed in the center of the floor as all others moved off to the side to avoid being dragged into the dancing, and Katherine turned away from Philippe in time to see the four musketeers approach her. Smiling brightly at them, she stepped slowly in their direction until they met, and Katherine dropped herself into a curtsy before Aramis.
"Father."
Aramis was absolutely stunned by what he saw when he looked down at the figure who lowered herself before him, his chest swelling with pride. A hand reached forward and gently touched her chin, prompting her to look upward at him as he beamed brightly down at her. "Katherine." Laughter sounded as she rose to her feet once more and quickly embraced him, her eyes closing tightly when she felt his strong arms encircle her form as they had so often in her childhood.
"My God, Katherine look at you!" Porthos cried, stepping forward to sweep her into a hug that twirled her around the floor as soon as she had parted from her father.
"You look beautiful, my dear," Athos agreed, moving for his own turn to hug his niece.
Blue eyes glanced between them as she absorbed their acknowledgment of her appearance that night, seeing that they had finally come to understand just how grown up she had become when they were not looking. But it was to D'Artagnan that Katherine looked last, swallowing in nervous anticipation to know just how he viewed her now. "Are you displeased, Uncle?"
Up until that moment, D'Artagnan had succeeded in keeping a neutral face that would not tell Katherine a single thing of what he might be thinking as he looked at her, and having known him for as long as she had, she knew that she could not always be right in her guesses. But the instant she looked up at him with those uncertain eyes, he seemed to relax and offered her a smile of encouragement.
"I could not be prouder to be your uncle, ma petite."
Hearing his pet name for her was all that she needed to move toward him and allow him to hug her tightly, burying her face against his chest, her arms wound tightly around his neck. Neither of them paid much mind to the others who hovered around and looked toward their little group with expectant faces, knowing that they were probably breaking some courtly protocol by allowing a private moment between them. "I do not know how you did it, but thank you," he whispered against her hair.
Aramis couldn't help but smile as he watched the two of them, noting how gentle his daughter was still being with the uncle who held her so protectively to him. From his place before them, he could see that the bond had been mended. Everything was as it should be, and his worry about having his daughter around the King of France seemed to vanish when he looked upon her smiling face. She looked a little pale to his eye though, he thought to himself. But perhaps that was simply the makeup that Anne had put on her to give her a more even look? He knew nothing of such things, and figured it was best to brush the matter aside as he and his friends surrounded Katherine together.
"You need not thank me," she murmured back to him, pulling back to look at the dark fabric of his uniform.
"You really do look lovely, my dear," he said gently as he reached out to touch her cheek again with fatherly affection.
Katherine couldn't help but beam brightly, glancing down at the dress that she had found herself in that night. "It was all the Queen," she said, holding the sides of her skirt out a little to see the fuller details. "She must have known what the King was planning. Why else would she spend such time on me?"
Yes, Anne must have known exactly what Philippe had planned to do with Katherine, D'Artagnan found himself thinking as he glanced toward the now occupied thrones. They managed to make eye contact for a brief moment before she turned her head away and looked out at the party, watching the swirling gowns glisten under the light of the candles. But even in that stolen moment that they had shared, Anne had told him everything with those dark eyes of hers.
"You do not give yourself the credit you deserve," Athos told her, bringing D'Artagnan's attention back to their little group. "The King was right to honour you for saving his life. To have ignored the part you played would have looked badly on him."
None of them mentioned the fact that Louis would have chosen to ignore any part she had played in the entire thing. If nothing else, he would have seduced her privately until she became his mistress and then shut her out completely, whereas Philippe had never made such an advance on her. No, the poor boy still seemed rather unsure of how to take her despite their stolen moment in the gardens, which was understandable given the circumstances under which he had grown up.
"His Majesty honoured my family for their bravery," she said softly, looking to each of them in turn. "I could ask for nothing more than to be a loved by men as gallant and loyal as you."
Silence fell between them as they absorbed her praises, looking down upon her smaller being with pride radiating from their faces. D'Artagnan was the first to clear his throat, straightening his posture a little. "If you will all excuse me, I should go speak with His Majesty."
But Katherine only shook her head a little. "I promised that I would remain close in case you needed anything." The musketeer opened his mouth to begin protesting, and she quickly jumped to silence him. "I shall not stand close enough to hear." With a bit of a sigh, he nodded and offered Katherine his arm. Before she took it, however, she turned back to look at her father and nodded to him with a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Will you dance with me later, Papa?"
Aramis gave her no verbal response. Instead he bent himself over his waist and gently picked up her smaller hand in his, leaning over to kiss the soft skin on her knuckles before he turned away and headed for another area of the room. No doubt he would wish to find Andre and ensure that there were no issues with security that night, as he was prone to do when he found himself sitting idle. Her blue eyes watched him go before she moved back toward D'Artagnan and slipped her arm through his, appearing to hold tightly to him when in fact she knew that he was leaning a little of his weight against her frame already.
"We should take a walk around," Porthos suggested as he too watched Aramis go. "To make sure everything is alright."
Athos nodded his head in agreement and glanced over at Katherine, a smile growing on his face. "Keep him out of trouble, my dear."
"Of course, Uncle," she said brightly, looking up at the dark hair man whom she held onto.
D'Artagnan looked down at his niece with a soft smile before he bowed his head to his friends and began to slowly walk them in the direction of the thrones, keeping his steps as even as possible so that he was not entirely relying on Katherine to keep him steady. He knew that there were eyes upon their every move now, and so remained careful to keep his eyes at a respectable level as they came to stand before Philippe and Anne, both of them paying their reverence with far more ease than they had when first they arrived at the palace.
"Your Majesties," he said in his strong tone, holding himself in his bow for a moment before he slowly lifted his body again. "I owe you thanks for the honours you have bestowed upon myself and my friends tonight."
Philippe shook his head, looking down upon the two of them with a genuine smile. "You owe no thanks to me," he said. "I should be thanking you, more than I have. You, and your family," he said with a nod toward Katherine, who felt her cheeks warm under the gaze of the King as she quickly bobbed herself into another curtsy.
"My Lord shows great kindness by acknowledging me in such a manner after he has so honoured my family."
Even with her eyes downcast, she could imagine the smile that Queen Anne wore was the very same one that she had seen since her arrival, sensing that the older woman had decided to take a positive approach to her presence at court when she clearly knew nothing about it. Only when she felt the gentle touch of a hand to her cheek did she dare to look up, rather startled to suddenly find herself so close to Philippe as he leaned forward and whispered softly to her. "You made yourself my family when you saved D'Artagnan."
Katherine swallowed but seemed otherwise frozen as she continued to look up at Philippe with wide eyes. Something in the way that he looked at her made everything about the room they stood in suddenly feel warmer, causing a blush to creep into her cheeks that did not go unnoticed by D'Artagnan as he stood by her side and glanced toward the two of them out of the corner of his eye. Nor did he fail to see just how intimate a gesture Philippe made toward Katherine as his hand lowered away from her cheeks.
"Perhaps you might be able to entice my niece to dance, Your Majesty," he said smoothly, earning himself a quick look from Katherine. "I would hate for her to spend the entire evening by my side without enjoying even a little of it."
The notion brought a smile to Philippe's face as he nodded his consent to the idea, turning to look back at his mother for a brief moment. "Then I will request that you remain here and keep my Mother company," he said a little louder, in case anyone should be eavesdropping on their conversation. "In case she should need anything while I am gone."
The captain quickly bowed before his King and detached himself from Katherine before moving around to do as he was bid, leaving the poor girl to watch him go with her mouth hanging slightly open. Had that really just happened? Blue eyes turned back to Philippe and the hand he now offered to her, suddenly very aware of her surroundings and the people who were sure to be watching her every move.
"I do not really know how to dance," she whispered quickly, hoping to perhaps spare herself from any potential embarrassment. "We do not have a need for such a thing back home."
But Philippe would not be refused it would seem, as he signaled to the musicians to play a slower tune. "A simple waltz," he told her softly. "I know you can."
As much as she absolutely wanted to say no, she knew it would look badly upon her to refuse the King after he had shown her such favour before the whole court. Inhaling slowly, Katherine nodded her dark head and gently placed her hand in Philippe's, feeling his fingers curl softly around her own as he turned and began to lead her into the center of the ballroom floor. Somewhere in the room she knew that her father and other two uncles were probably watching the whole exchange, wondering why she was dancing with the King. And while Anne had indeed given her brief instruction on how to properly execute a waltz while she was preparing Katherine for the evening, the girl was not at all confident in her abilities. She could hear each individual click of her heels as she stepped across the floor as if time had suspended itself before her, the petticoats of her gown brushing slowly against the bare skin of her legs. Her heart raced when she turned to look at Philippe and saw him step forward, adjusting his arms into the proper position for the dance. One was placed on her waist to give him better control for turning and guiding her, while the other held one of her smaller hands in his. Her second hand moved to touch his shoulder, barely making contact with the material of his jacket for fear of gripping him tightly in her anxiety.
"Relax," he whispered, looking down upon her with the same gentle smile that his mother wore.
All of a sudden there was no one else in the entire ballroom. She heard nothing around her but the music that the musicians had begun to play and saw nothing more than Philippe's smiling face as he gently began to guide her steps around the floor. The steps were small and hesitant at first, her body trembling in his grasp at the idea of stepping on his toes or tripping over the skirts of her gown. But as the music continued to play Katherine could feel a sense of ease overtake her and her mind slowly wandered away from the anxiety that she had previously felt. Her eyes locked onto Philippe's as he twirled her slowly, giving her waist a little push to the one side to let her unwind from him and then carefully move back toward him, this time a little closer than before.
"I thought you said that you did not know how to dance," he said to her with a grin. "I think you were lying to me."
She could tell by his tone of voice that he was teasing her, his voice much lower than the commanding tone that he had used to address the whole room. "If you were not leading me, I do not think I would be doing nearly as well," she admitted as the warmth returned to her cheeks, burning further when she heard Philippe chuckle gently down at her.
"Nevertheless, you are doing quite well. And if I may...you look beautiful."
All at once it felt as if her heart had stopped beating in her chest when her eyes made contact with his, hearing his words flutter about her at having received such a compliment from one such as him. "You are very kind with your praise, Your Majesty," she whispered softly, suddenly finding it a little harder to breathe.
"And you are deserving of it."
The pair continued to move their way around the floor as the music propelled them onward, continuing as if there was never a moment before when she had been hesitant about allowing herself to dance in the arms of the King of France. He had eyes only for her, watching the delight radiate from the depths of her blue eyes and into the bright smile that she wore across her lips. And while Philippe was certain that the entire court was sure to be watching them with keen interest, he cared not at all. All that seemed to matter to the young man was the woman who he held firmly in his arms, watching her gracefully turn with each gentle touch that he gave to her waist. Yet as his eyes drank in the very image of her, Philippe took notice of the difference that he felt coming from her since last they spoke in the gardens, noting how warm her body was even through the layers of material that made up her dress. Her face was flushed, a haze beginning to creep into those beautiful eyes as if she had started to see right through him.
In the midst of this daydream that she seemed to be experiencing, Katherine struggled to discern what was fantasy and what was reality. Everything was slowly swirling together, the edges blurring to prevent any real understanding. But she was growing dizzy as well, far more than she expected to feel with the slow tempo to which they danced. Each turn on the floor sent her head a little faster as she struggled to keep things in focus, her grip on Philippe's arm tightening a little to steady herself. The room had grown terribly warm since she had entered it at the beginning of the ceremony, almost unbearably so. Her dress felt far tighter than it had when she had put it on back in Queen Anne's apartments and her side was beginning to burn again with the same ache that she had experienced in the bathtub. Her breathing began to quicken, her eyes a little wider than normal when she looked up at Philippe, noticing that his lips were moving but that she heard not a sound escape them. His eyes were laced with concern as he looked down at her, speaking her name softly so as not to alert any of the others who had now joined them on the dance floor. But she did not respond, and her face was so pale that he was beginning to fear that something really was wrong with her.
"Katherine," he muttered to her, trying to hold her a little closer. "Are you alright?"
Again she failed to respond with any kind of word. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her knees bent forward, sending her into his arms and down toward the floor. Out of instinct Philippe released her one hand and immediately moved to encircle her waist, supporting her body weight with his own until she had been safely lowered to the floor, where he continued to hold her. "Aramis!"
The crowd seemed to part as the old musketeer came hurrying forward, Athos and Porthos in tow. His dark eyes looked at Katherine for only a moment before he moved to take her from Philippe and into his own arms, struggling a little to stand with her added weight. No longer was she that child that he could pick up and throw over his shoulder with ease, for she had grown and his own body was beginning to feel the years he had spent in service to the musketeers. Athos and Porthos were quick to lend their hands to Aramis as he rose unsteadily to his feet, noticing the grave look that their friend now wore.
"She is burning," he said to him softly, looking around at the other guests. "We need to move her now."
Athos nodded, pushing Porthos to accompany Aramis as he did his best to swiftly remove Katherine from the dance floor before he turned to Philippe with a small bow. "Continue with your party, Your Majesty," he told him, eyes watching the faces of those around them as they began to mutter and murmur about what had caused the girl to faint in such a manner. "Do not alert them to anything being wrong. Dismiss it as her being overwhelmed by the party and the honour you have paid her. I will keep you informed."
And then he too was gone, leaving Philippe to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. He turned back toward the thrones at the far side of the room, noting the look that both his mother and D'Artagnan wore as he struggled to maintain his composure and not run after Katherine's fallen form. Swallowing, he slowly rotated until he was facing a majority of the people who had been invited to attend the ceremony.
"I'm afraid she was not as used to dancing as she pretended." He smiled to hide his fear and the crowd laughed merrily at his joke. Good, he thought. They seemed to accept his words. Philippe clapped his hands. "Continue!"