A/N: I'm so sorry that it has been so long since I updated this story. Truthfully, I just lost all sense of where I was going with this. And it has been a hectic time recently, but I don't want to just leave this to rot unfinished. So, I will do my best to finish this story and give it a satisfactory ending, I am a little rusty though so please forgive me if this chapter isn't very good. :D
"Right does everyone know their part?" Athos murmured, head angled towards the ground to disguise the movements of his lips, he could not be sure Frederic, or his men weren't proficient in lip reading.
His brothers nodded their heads in unison, Porthos and D'artagnan pulling back slightly whilst Athos and Treville flanked Aramis, as much to keep him upright as to appear imposing.
"Ahh Aramis, how lovely to see you again!" Frederic called from his position on the balcony high above their heads, "our parting was much too sudden last time, I didn't get to, how to put it, clear the air."
The Musketeers couldn't help but to cringe, his voice grating on their every nerve, and the manic, self-satisfied grin he sported, visible even from this distance, fostered a great urge to punch him in his smarmy little face.
"We are here as you requested," Athos called calmly, hands raised in supplication, motioning ever so slightly to highlight his unarmed state, "now let the King and Queen go free."
"Ah but you see I can't do that," he shook his head in mock remorse, "I do that and I lose my only leverage, then next thing, bang, and I'm dead. That wouldn't be a very clever thing to do now would it."
Swallowing down a biting retort, Athos held his tongue and kept his hands raised. "A very astute deduction, so what would you have us do?"
Pulling a gun from his belt, Frederic grabbed the King by hair and pulled him flush to his body. The nuzzle of the pistol then pressed unerringly to the monarch's temple. "Aramis will come up here, unarmed, and bound as he is now, or I pull the trigger and bye bye dear old Louis."
"Do as he says! For goodness sakes Athos just do as he says!"
"Please remain calm your majesty," Athos called, "I promise you shall come to no harm here today."
Porthos couldn't help but grit his teeth, returning Athos' jerk of the head with a nod of his own, pulling Aramis gently down from his horse and steadying him on wobbly legs. He began to fumble with re-tying his hands before him, and took the opportunity to lean forward and place a fond kiss to his brother's brow, murmuring a few words of encouragement in his ear before he was forced to push him towards the now open doors to the palace.
Stumbling inside, Aramis was met by empty corridors and deafening silence, which for a functioning palace was indescribably eerie, usually it was impossible to take more than one step without someone rushing by you engaged in one task or another. Or without a maid or other soldier questioning your business within the royal household. Thanks to the numerous trips he and his brothers had been required to make to the throne room to listen to Richelieu and the king lambasting them for events that were beyond their control, or entirely the fault of the red guard, he was able to find his way there with his eyes closed.
He raised his hand to knock on the door, and frowned in confusion when both of his fists appeared before his face instead of one. Peering at his hands, it took him a worryingly long time to remember that his brothers had bound them together in an attempt to appear authentic. A clever idea, but one that was proving to be inconvenient, eventually he gave up and simply battered both fists clumsily upon the wood, it would, after all, have the same effect.
Indeed, a few seconds later the huge oak door swung inward, light from the huge balcony flickering on the shiny surface and making him wince at the brightness.
"Ah Aramis, how lovely it is to see you," Frederic simpered, mouth stretched in a sinister mockery of a grin, "it really hurt me when you ran away earlier, us being such old friends and all."
"Frederic, just… just let… let them go." Aramis managed to murmur, swaying slightly on his feet as the other man grabbed a fierce hold of his upper arm, so hard he could feel his fingers digging into his flesh, and could just imagine the bruises that would be forming as he was dragged forcibly into the room.
"Take a seat," he snarled, harshly kicking the back of Aramis' knee and watching as he collapsed heavily onto a chair. "Don't you ever tell me what to do, you understand dog?"
"Please, allow myself and the Queen to go free, you have what you want now?" Louis pleaded somewhat desperately, taking a half step forwards whilst raising his hands in supplication.
"Now, now, your majesty. Surely you can't be that naïve, if I let you go free then this place will be swarming with Musketeer rats in seconds, we can't have that, now can we? So you, will be staying right where you are, while I have my fun."
He laughed maniacally at the gobsmacked expression on the royal couples faces and opened his mouth to taunt them more. Before even a word could leave his lips, a confused frown marred his face, feeling a cold sharp point press against his jugular.
"Let them go, now Frederic. They are innocent of this." Aramis ordered, seeming more in control of his faculties.
Jerking his head harshly at the King and Queen, Aramis watched with satisfaction as the two fled the room, Anne taking one last concerned look back at her loyal soldier before they disappeared into the corridor.
Porthos, Athos and D'artagnan ushered them quickly to safety, and then began to approach the door with trepidation. They couldn't afford to give Frederic any cause for desperate action.
A bloodcurdling whimper of a wail floated down the corridor to them and they instantly sprang into action, hearts pounding and blood singing through their veins as they raced to the room, concern for their brother overriding all sense of caution.
Bursting through the door, Porthos gave a bellowing growl of fury. Aramis stood in the middle of the room, Frederic with one hand gripping his shoulder and the other the hilt of the Musketeer's rapier, whose bound hands clutched desperately at. From their position before the two men, they had a clear view of the silver point of metal sticking out of Aramis's lower back, glinting gruesomely in the sunlight, as blood stained his shirt a sickening crimson.
One glance at the rage on Porthos' face and Frederic flinched away, slowly extracting his sword from Aramis' torso and revelling briefly in the low keening whine it produced. With a violent shove, Frederic pushed Aramis away and made a break for the balcony, now he had his revenge there was no reason to stick around and be murdered for it. He did after all have big plans for the rest of his life.
Running towards the window in desperation, he tipped over the chairs the King and Queen had been using, hoping it would slow the Musketeers down a little, just give him time to escape. Just as his hand closed over the concrete rail of the balcony, a dagger thudded with a sickening squelch through the back of his neck. With a shocked gurgle, he collapsed to his knees, hands reaching up to feel what exactly had just happened to him.
Toppling backwards, Frederic's last sight was Athos with his hand outstretched, a look of intense concentration and hatred in his eyes as he watched the man who had caused so much pain and suffering to his brother, die at his hand.
"Aramis! Mis, talk to me. Come on Aramis!" Porthos called desperately, yanking his bandana from his head and balling it up to press firmly against the freely bleeding wound. "ATHOS!"
