Here's another chapter for all of you! Hopefully this one will spark some interest in what is to come for Katherine, Philippe and all of the other characters that you know and love. Please leave me a review when you're done reading to tell me what you think of this chapter!
Chapter XXVI
"The fresh air will do me good, Papa."
She could tell that he was still concerned for her health and well-being after the fright she had given him over the last few days, but Katherine still offered her father a small smile in the hopes that it might help to pacify his worry. She had begun to heal at a terribly slow pace, feeling that the smallest of things removed all of the strength and energy that she had stored throughout the day, but she was still determined to get downstairs and sit in the garden for even just a short while. It was so much more open and fresh than the room that she had been cooped up in. The windows only allowed so much air inside at once before someone would rush forward to close them tightly again and leave Katherine to sit in the stale air that had become so familiar with the room.
But Aramis shook his head as he looked down at his daughter. "You are not yet strong enough to make it down there on your own," he reasoned, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Nor can I take you down there. D'Artagnan wishes to have yet another discussion of what must be done in order to assure Philippe is safe and has asked that I be present."
Katherine laughed, the sound far richer than it had been the other night. "I thought he might have to pry you away from my side," the girl joked lightly. "You have been a constant presence since I woke…not that I dare complain about that."
Aramis shook his head as he looked down at his daughter with a smile behind his own eyes. It was true that he had lingered by her bedside after her fever had broken. The concern that he felt as a father would not permit him to leave for extended periods of time; only long enough to pray a few times each day before he returned again and remained with her through the night. She didn't know it, but while he always promised to return to his own room once she had fallen asleep, Aramis did no such thing. Instead the aging priest remained where he believed that he was most needed and contented himself with the chair beside the bed, careful not to wake her or let her believe that he had stayed yet another night by her side. Were she ever to learn of this truth, Katherine would surely have a thing or two to say to him.
"Is everything alright?"
Now it was her turn to worry. It was almost as if he were staring into a mirror as he noted the anxiety that lit up in her face, hearing how soft her voice had become as she addressed the issues of which she knew absolutely nothing. D'Artagnan had requested that they not tell her anything just yet so as not to distract her from getting well again, and though Aramis did not fully believe it was the right thing to do he had bowed to the wishes of his friend. Yet it seemed that her focus was already skewed in another direction, one in which Aramis knew he wouldn't be able to distract her for long. She was rather perceptive for one so young and unfamiliar with the world. Not that he should really expect anything less from her, he thought to himself with a touch of pride. He had always imagined that there would be great things attached to Katherine and thus far he had been proven correct.
"I am not quite sure, dear one," he admitted to her, letting his thumb brush gently along her cheek as she continued to look up at him for some kind of reassuring answer. "All I know is that we must continue to watch over Philippe until we are certain that he is safe."
The girl sighed, closing her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. "It is not fair," she murmured to him. "After everything that he has been forced to endure, does he not deserve some kind of happiness?"
"That is not for us to decide," he reminded her.
Of course, he was right. As a devout man who had pledged the remainder of his life to the service of God, Aramis knew better than most people that what happened to them was not within their power to change. Everything had been laid out for them, or so Katherine had been told all her life. All they were able to do was follow the pathway destined to be their own and hope that it would bring them some kind of peace and happiness along the way, no matter how fleeting it might appear. And that was all she truly wanted for him now, especially with his brother locked away and both of his parents now present in his life to guide him whenever possible. What she wouldn't give to know the feeling of a complete family like that…
Sighing softly to herself, Katherine nodded in response to his words. Arguing with him would not be the wisest thing to do at a time like this, when his anxiety was already at a high level due to her weakened state of being and whatever it was that concerned Philippe. For the time being at least, it was best that she keep a peace with her father that might be discussed sometime in the future, when things had settled themselves and they were no longer afraid of what might lie in store for them down the road. But when that time came, she would be ready to begin the conversation again.
The opening of the door to her room then distracted Katherine from her thoughts and brought her gaze upward to see who it was that approached them. Athos walked sharply into view and looked straight at Aramis, his gaze unwavering.
"You will need to be at the meeting," he reminded his friend, taking only a few more steps into the room as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "D'Artagnan will not take kindly to your absence."
Aramis blinked in surprise. "Are you not going?"
In response, Athos shook his head. "I have other things to tend to at the moment."
Confused by the way in which he was answered, Aramis frowned a little at Athos. His demeanour was as rough as it had been when first he was dealing with Raoul's death, remembering just how eager he had been to dedicate himself to the plan of removing Louis from his throne. Now it seemed that he had reverted to that distant persona once more, and Aramis wasn't entirely sure that he liked what he was seeing. Nevertheless he turned back to Katherine and leaned forward, pressing a kiss against her forehead that caused her face to scrunch up a little as his beard tickled her skin. No matter how old she seemed to be, her response was always the same.
"I will return after we are finished," he said to her, eyes shining with fatherly affection. "Perhaps then we shall go down to the garden."
Katherine offered him a small smile. "Go on," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Do not leave them waiting because of me. I shall be here when you return, Papa."
With one last lingering touch to her cheek Aramis pulled himself away from his daughter and moved toward the door, where he paused to glance nervously behind him. Katherine opened her mouth as if to shoo him away again, but Athos beat her to it and instead moved a little closer to his friend, muttering something she could not hear. But whatever it was that he said allowed Aramis to relax a little and nod his head before he finally left the room, closing the door behind him. Now it was only herself and Athos who remained, and his presence was making her a little uneasy. Something in the way that he stood, with his back still toward her, made Katherine feel as if she were being shunned away from him. She knew he was troubled by something though; his face always seemed to hold itself with the same firm lines when he was trying to conceal his emotions from others. Once or twice before she remembered him making that same face in regards to herself and Raoul. They had gotten into their fair share of trouble when they had been children.
"You wanted to go down to the garden?"
His voice shook her from her thoughts, causing the girl to blink at him. "Yes," she said softly, noting that he still hadn't turned to look at her. "I…well, it does not matter. I will not keep you if you have other things to do."
"D'Artagnan wants one of us with you at all times right now," he told her almost stiffly. "You gave everyone quite a fright and he does not wish to take any chances with you falling ill again."
His words brought forth the guilt that she had been feeling in the pit of her stomach ever since her last conversation with D'Artagnan, remembering how upset he had been at the idea of losing her in the same way that he had nearly died. She had been the one to bring him back from the brink of death, but she had known of his ailment right from the start as well. Katherine had instead kept her own wound to herself and neglected to care for it properly even though she knew first-hand how dangerous that could be. He had every right to be upset with her after that, and so did everyone else who had been forced to stomach.
"I see."
Oh, what she wouldn't give to have that feeling erase itself entirely from her body. Though she knew that a large amount of her discomfort was coming from her body's slow healing process, Katherine knew better than to assume that everything was attributed to that. Of all the things that she had felt over the last little while, this feeling of guilt and unease was not uncommon for her. Everyone was on edge right now, though whether it was because of her or Philippe or even a combination of the two, she didn't know. All that the young woman did know was that she was not currently in the highest of standings with various members of her family. There was but one of them who was simply happy to note that she was recovering, his tone and his eyes void of all anger when he looked at her each night before retiring to his own room, and that was Porthos. Even her own father seemed to harbour some inner upset still, though it was Athos who did not bother to hide his anger from his young niece.
She hadn't noticed that he had moved until he was standing right by her side, wrapping a shawl tightly around her shoulders before he pushed aside the blankets that covered the lower half of her body. His arms wrapped themselves tightly around her, one under her knees and one around her back, as he scooped her up against his chest and tightened his hold just enough to ensure that she was secure. Katherine's own arms lifted in her surprise and instantly moved around his neck, holding herself as much as she could while her bright blue eyes looked at her uncle with a questioning gaze. But her tension was felt, and as they neared the door Athos murmured softly to her.
"Relax. We are simply going down to the garden."
Still the confusion pulsed through her as she found herself quietly navigating each corridor that he turned down. His eyes were still rather hard set, as they had been when first he had entered the room and addressed her father, but something in his tone of voice betrayed to Katherine an underlying emotion that did not match the exterior that he showed. There was something more than he was willing to allow through, something he was trying to keep guarded from her and away from the prying eyes of others who might also seek to analyse his behaviour. But what on earth could it be?
As they approached the bright rays of sunshine that peeked in through the glass doors that separated the palace from the gardens, Katherine squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head into her uncle's chest. It was much brighter than she remembered it being, but she supposed that after spending the last few days in an unconscious state and hidden away in a room with the curtains drawn, her eyes would not be used to the natural light of the outdoors anymore. It was a little painful at first as she struggled to cope with the amount of light that her body had started to absorb, but by the time Athos had set her gently down on one of the stone benches she was able to open them just enough to start making out the different bushes and flowers around her. And one of the first things that Katherine came to notice was how her uncle quickly seemed to retreat to a nearby tree and once again turn his back as if he were preparing to guard her against a future attack.
"Will you not even speak to me?" she asked him, blinking repeatedly to help her vision make the adjustment faster. "Are you still that angry?"
"I am not angry," he said a little too quickly.
"I believe you are."
"Katherine-"
But she ignored the hint of warning that she heard in his tone and pressed on. "I know that you are angry, Uncle. I knew the moment I saw you, when you came to my side to see with your own eyes and then hurried away to busy yourself with something else. You are either angry or completely unconcerned, which I find to be highly unlikely, so tell me the truth. How angry are you?"
His hands had curled into fists during her speech, eyes still refusing to turn and make contact with her. He was struggling to retain control though, she could tell from the quiver that had materialized in his closed hands and the way in which he hunched his shoulders forward. But all at once it stopped and with a single sigh everything seemed to fall away. There were no more shakes, no fists to inform her of the rage that had been circulating through his body as she pressed for the answers he was unwilling to give. That sigh told of everything though, of all the things that he had been keeping deep within his soul over the past several weeks. Too much had happened for him to be unaffected.
"Yes, I was upset," he told her slowly. "But not for the reasons you may believe."
Katherine waited only a moment before she responded in her softer tone. "Then why will you not look at me?"
The old man seemed to consider her question for a moment, then slowly he began to turn himself around so that his dark eyes finally came to rest on her smaller form. "You saw what Raoul's death did to me," he murmured. "It nearly destroyed me. I did not want to think that you were willing to put Aramis through the same anguish that I felt when I lost him forever."
Katherine inhaled sharply, feeling as though his words had struck her sharply across the face. He was right, she had seen just how badly the loss of Raoul had shaken her uncle, remembering how tightly he had clung to her presence for the first little while when she had gone to see him upon hearing the news herself. He had been distant, broken to a point that Katherine feared he might never be whole again…had she nearly done that to her own father? There was no way of knowing how Aramis might have reacted, though she knew that he couldn't have blamed others the way that Athos had blamed Louis; the circumstances had been completely different. And yet there were others who would also have been affected, others who might perhaps have felt that wound as deeply as Aramis would have. How could she not see that the past was haunting her uncle as he stood before her, reminded once again of the young life that he could have lost because it was believed that they had been doing "the right thing." Raoul had obeyed his orders to return to the battlefront against the Dutch, and so too had Katherine been willing to put her own physical needs aside to ensure the survival of another.
She had been so blind…
"Uncle, I…" she stopped, turning her horrified eyes away from him. "I do not know what to say…but I…"
No, there were no words to excuse her actions. While she would not have regretted giving up her life to save D'Artagnan, she would have forever mourned the pain that she would have inflicted upon the others. Even if it would not have been intentional, even if she had believed herself to be doing the honourable thing in saving an innocent man, none of it would have mattered. She would have spent all eternity, whether up above or down below, weeping for the hearts that she had broken.
Lifting her eyes, Katherine was almost startled by the intensity of the gaze that she found looking at her as Athos knelt his stiffening frame before her. Seeming to ignore the cold ground beneath his body and the trouble he was likely to have in getting back to his feet, the musketeer reached out and gingerly took both of Katherine's small hands in his own. They were far rougher from years of physical use, the skin cracked in places from the dryness, but they were hands that spoke volumes of his character. And though they were as tough as his soul was, they were nothing but gentle when they held onto Katherine.
"Swear to me," he demanded slowly. "Swear to me that you will never put your father through that pain, Katherine. There is but one thing on this earth that he loves more than God and that is you. If you were to be taken away from him I do not know that he would be able to survive the ordeal."
The words he spoke seemed to command the answer that he desired, but she could see the pleading that was in his eyes, begging for her to agree. He would not say it, she knew that he wouldn't, but while Athos was begging in place of his friend Katherine knew that he was also begging for himself as well. It was true that her father loved her with all of the power of his being, but the same could be said for the three friends who had always been ready to aid him at a moment's notice. If she broke one heart, she would be breaking them all.
Gently sliding one of her hands out of his grasp, Katherine lifted it and pushed away a piece of stray hair from his eye. "I promise," she whispered with a small nod. "I'm sorry."
Satisfied with her answer, Athos pressed the back of her hand to his lips and closed his eyes tightly, as If he were trying to rid his mind of the dark visions that had since clouded his thoughts. Very slowly did he pick himself up, shifting the weight of his body until he came to rest on the bench beside his niece, who could only smile over at him with the same sadness that she had earlier felt.
"You should not continue to abuse your body so," she chastised lightly. "You are no longer a young man of twenty."
Athos couldn't help but chuckle a little, despite the groan that sounded as he rubbed his aching knees. "Trust me, my dear, I am well aware of that fact," he said, glancing toward her. "But until we are sure that the King is safely seated on his throne there will be more work to do."
At this, Katherine frowned a little. "What dangers are you not telling me of?"
"Nothing that requires you to be concerned," he said quickly, straightening his back a little bit with a more authoritative air. "The only thing you need to be focusing on is getting yourself well again. The sooner you can walk up and down those stairs again, the easier it will be on my back. You are not so young anymore yourself."
She knew that he was only teasing, and so Katherine allowed herself to laugh at his joke before she settled herself into the bench and leaned her head against her uncle's strong shoulder. Though she was still bothered by the fact that none of them were being honest with her, she knew that she was not in a position to yet argue with them. Her body still required time to heal itself, she would be no good to them in a fight. But as soon as she was well enough, Katherine planned on regaining the stamina that she had lost and picking up her sword once again. All of those years that she had spent training would not go to waste, she was determined to see herself back on her feet over the next few days, no matter how much pain she had to suffer through in order to stand.
The two sat together in silence for almost a half hour before Athos turned his head to address his niece and smiled down at what he saw. Somewhere in that time, Katherine had fallen asleep with her body pressed firmly against his side, a peaceful look overtaking her features that was far less concerning than the one he had seen before her fever had broken. Perhaps it was the fresh air, he thought to himself. It took a little maneuvering, but he managed to gather the girl back in his arms without waking her and slowly retrace his steps through the garden, back down all of the corridors and into her room where he laid her gently on the bed. She hadn't stirred at all, not even when he pulled the blankets back up around her shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her temple. In that moment he reminded her so much of the child she had once been that Athos felt his heart give a squeeze at the memory of watching two children run about the monastery grounds together, laughing and shouting at one another to see who was the faster of the two. And while those memories remained a part of the distant past, the old man could still recall every detail about the days spent watching them both grow.
Only one child remained now, and she was no longer the child he had carried on his shoulder so that she might see over the heads of everyone else in the square. He could still carry her if needed, he had proven that twice over today. It might not have quite liked it, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling that familiar sense of protectiveness that resonated from the past either. She was not his, she never had been and never would be. But in that moment, Athos knew that his own son was somewhere close by, watching over the two of them with his own smile of approval. Perhaps she could not replace Raoul, but she could certainly help to heal the hole that had been placed in his heart.
She had already started.