"Bonjour, Madame. Breakfast is served."
The maid had softly opened the door and cheerfully placed a tray of heavenly goods onto the table by the window. She was in the process of setting up when she noticed a most unusual sight: her maître, Monsieur de Treville, was in bed with his wife. He was also completely nude. Her eyes widened and she shrieked, startling the two lovers who had been fast asleep to notice her presence.
"Good God, what the…!" the Captain shot up to see a trembling young girl whom he recognized as a maid in his household. "What in God's name is the matter with you…?"
But before he could finish his sentence, the woman who had been sleeping next to him threw some sheets on top of him, making him realize that he had been exposed.
"You may go, Mathilde, thank you," she said in an authoritative yet kind voice.
The young girl bowed and ran off.
….
Now wide awake and unable to sleep in any longer, the couple simply lounged together in bed. For the most part, Jean-Armand de Treville was highly irritated. He did not appreciate being woken up in this manner. His irritation only served to fuel the fit of laughter that had possessed Renée.
She dabbed at the corners of her eyes and sighed, stretching her hands over her head and interlacing them together at the top.
"You just ruined an innocent girl," she teased him, "She's only fifteen, you know."
He glared at her, "Well, she's quite stupid. What was she expecting? All of Paris must have heard us last night."
"I wonder what the Cardinal would have to say about that," she faked a scandalized expression.
"Richelieu can go *bleep* *bleep*."
"Dear me, how vulgar you are this morning, Monsieur de Treville!"
"Only when it comes to Richelieu," he frowned. If the earlier spectacle hadn't completely reduced his morning erection, the evocation of the Cardinal certainly fulfilled the task.
He turned to his young musketeer, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Despite all of these intrusions, nothing – absolutely nothing – could take away the bliss he felt to wake up to this splendid woman by his side.
He stared at her lovingly, stroking her face and the inside of her arms, his fingers resting on her underarm, which was populated with hair that was slightly darker than that of her mane. Unlike the women at court, Aramis did not have the luxury to groom and pamper herself. If anything, she had to avoid these practices so as not to give away her identity.
"Does it offend you?" she asked, moved by his attention.
In response, he planted a kiss on her armpit. "Not at all. You're beautiful as you are. I wouldn't change a thing."
She smiled and placed herself on top of him, engaging him in another round.
…
They sat across from each other, spreading butter and jam onto their pastries, as he poured some tea for both of them.
The mood was bittersweet. Despite their passionate evening, neither one had forgotten that only last night, Renée had declared that she did not want to be Renée any longer. They both knew what that meant. The "trial" had failed. They were quiet for a long time until she finally broke the silence.
"I have a proposition for you," she began.
"Hmm?"
"Send Renée away and bring back Aramis."
His heart sank. He had hoped that she would change her mind. He had hoped that he had pleased her enough so that she would want him every night, just as he wanted her. But Jean-Armand de Treville was not a man of dalliances and illusions. Even though he had let himself go for one night, it was now time to face the reality.
"Is that what you want?" he asked in a thick voice.
"It is. I can't not be a musketeer."
"I understand."
Silence.
The question that burned in his mind was simply: how?
How can he go back to the way things were? How can he see her every day and pretend as though nothing had happened? As though she hadn't changed his life? Perhaps it was time for him to retire from his post and go back to Gascony… Perhaps it was time for a new Captain… Perhaps…
His thoughts were interrupted.
"Can you accept a wife who is a musketeer?"
He looked at her gravely, questioningly, warily… hopefully?
"What are you saying?"
"I'm asking you if you can accept both: Aramis and Renée."
Had she just proposed to him?
He looked away from her. She could feel her heart racing, not knowing whether he will outright reject her or embrace her. The question that burned in her mind was simply: how?
How can she go back to the way things were? How can she see him every day and pretend as though nothing had happened? As though he hadn't changed her life? How can she simply go back to being a mere soldier, taking orders from her Captain with nothing else to live for? Perhaps it was time to leave this life after all… Perhaps she could travel… Perhaps…
Her thoughts were interrupted.
"…but how will we…?"
The Captain of the Musketeers was a practical and strategic man. But he wasn't as gifted when it came to imagination. He knew it. And she knew it.
He was asking her to guide him, to paint him a picture, just as she had done from the very beginning.
She smiled warmly at him, the relief washing over her; he was in. Once again, they will become complicit together.
….
"The alleged assassin was last seen around this part of the Louvre," announced the Captain of the Musketeers, as he pointed towards the East wing on a map of the Royal Palace that was spread out on his bureau.
He continued on to detail the plan to his musketeers, assigning to each of them special tasks that played to each of their strengths. Naturally, the plan required the sage input of Athos, who subtly injected his opinion without injuring the Captain's pride or undermining his authority.
"Very well, then, we will reconvene in two days for an update," he concluded.
"Yes, Capitaine!" the four of them cried in unison.
"Excellent. Dismissed."
They filed out of his office one by one, with Aramis being last.
She stopped as he called out to his blond musketeer, "Oh, and Aramis, a word?"
"Yes, Captain."
As she closed the door behind her, her comrades exchanged worried looks. Aramis had been receiving many sermons and admonishments from their Captain ever since her spy mission at the court ended.
It had been a few months since her mission ended abruptly. The incident with the Admiral drew too much attention to the musketeer, thereby endangering her cover. In response, Treville prematurely and hurriedly terminated the mission. He announced the next day that his wife had "chosen" to isolate herself in a convent in Switzerland and then requested a holiday so that he could accompany her and ensure she was well-installed.
As a devout Catholic himself, His Majesty heartily agreed, giving praise to the Captain for putting his wife in place appropriately after a scandal, but also acknowledging his wife's dedication to the religion.
They had indeed traveled to the Switzerland, where they had spent a heavenly honeymoon, having stopped earlier in a remote region in the North-East of France to get married.
In his absence, Athos had taken up the post of the interim Captain of the Musketeers. First order of business? Send d'Artagnan to investigate criminal activities on Admiral Pouilleux's turf. While it had started off with Porthos proposing simple pranks or duels, Athos soon learned that the Admiral and his men were involved in potential plots against the King. After all, no one touches the musketeer Aramis without having to answer to all three other musketeers.
….
The young blond musketeer re-entered the bureau, making sure to lock the door behind her.
She crossed her arms across her chest and regarded him with a grimace.
"You do know that these unsolicited interviews will make people suspicious, don't you? Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan know nothing about us and I'm tired of having to make up excuses every time for why you asked to me."
He scrutinized her from head to toe before he approached her. How proud and haughty she was. How dignified! Exactly what a wife worthy of him should be like.
He pinched her chin with his index and thumb finger, forcefully lifting her head to his eye level. She dropped her arms to the side and met his gaze with defiance.
"Is that how you speak to your commanding officer?" he coldly reproached her.
Without allowing her the chance to respond, he placated his lips onto hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth while simultaneously pushing her towards the wall behind her.
He then hurriedly unbuttoned her culottes and slid his hands to her sex. He kept his mouth on hers to prevent her moans from being heard.
She trembled at the contact of his fingers between the lips of her sex. She even instinctively bit his tongue as not to produce any noise, causing him to groan with pain and irritation.
As a response, he continued to stroke her more aggressively as she trembled in his arms. It didn't take long before she reached an orgasm and he relaxed his grip on her. But only momentarily, for then he unbuttoned his own pantaloons, slid hers to her knees and inserted himself inside her. He placed his hand on her mouth as he proceeded to devour her neck.
"Well, Madame de Treville?" he breathed into her ear.
"Mmm," she moaned through thrusts and kisses.
It didn't take long for him. Lately, it seemed like the excitement of being found out in the office was a fantasy that had such an explosive effect on him. She obliged him, even though she preferred the privacy of a bedroom.
As they both stood panting and catching her breath, they busied themselves with restoring order to their appearance.
"What did you want to ask me?" she demanded, exasperated from the unpredictable moods and fancies of her husband.
"Oh, what would you like for dinner tonight?"
FIN