a/n: Disclaimer: I do not own The Musketeers, just going to borrow them and their adventures for a bit. No copyright infringement is intended; just some good old gender-bending!
I was really on the fence with this episode, as to whether I should gender-bend Ninon. Even as I write this, I'm still undecided.
Episode Tag: Season 1, Episode 7: A Rebellious Woman.
the M~U~S~K~E~T~E~E~R~S - S~R~E~E~T~E~K~S~U~M eht
Charl(i)es' Angels!
Pursuit 7: A Rebellious Woman
The people of Paris loved and adored their King and Queen, screaming and cheering as the rode passed. d'Artagnan felt pride and honour that he had been allowed the privilege to ride front guard along with Captain Treville and Porthos in parade through the crowded streets of Paris, leading the King's carriage.
Athos and Aramis rode paired behind the coach, their steeds at the brisk trot, but a man's shouts for assistance beyond the crowd, in an alley behind, drew their focus and they wheeled their mounts from the escort and through the packed crowd, the other Musketeers and Red Guard would fill the space they left as the parade continued on without pause.
There were five men, mobbing the first, who struggled to hold his saddlebags as they were wrestled away.
"King's Musketeers!" both women jumped from their horses and started pulling the thugs from the bearded man. Athos and Aramis struggled briefly with a man each, before enabling them unconscious, while the bearded man stabbed his main aggressor with a small dagger.
As the thug dropped dead, his two remaining companions grabbed the second, unattended bag, and made a run for it. Athos and Aramis instantly attempted pursuit.
"No! Leave it! Leave it." The owner of said saddle bags cried and stopped their pursuit of the other two men. "I have business at the palace," he said, breathing heavily, clutching his remaining saddlebag to his chest. "You're Musketeers. Will you escort me there?"
Athos shared a look with Aramis before she addressed the man with a nod. "As you like, sir. Sorry for the loss of your bag."
He shook his head. "I still have the one, its contents more precious than the other."
Constance stood among the crowds that lined the streets for a glimpse of the Royals, in the company of her husband's cousin's daughter, Fleur, and her friend Thérèse . She smiled as she saw d'Artagnan ride past, looking all but a Musketeer himself. He was that, and more, just lacked the uniform just yet. Her attention was distracted that she didn't notice Thérèse push from the crowd and run after the coach as it thundered passed.
There was shock in the people as the young girl leapt on-side the carriage, and a brief moment later, fell and was crushed underside to screams of the people around.
The precession was instantly halted, and the Red Guard pushed the crowd back as Treville, Porthos, and d'Artagnan doubled back. Treville ordered the King's carriage ahead, the other Musketeers under his command, as escort. Porthos leapt from her horse and skidded to the girl's side, a wordless moan leaving her. d'Artagnan watched as she rolled the girl.
"Did she have a weapon?" Treville demanded, still astride his horse, it irritated beneath him.
"Just this." The dark-skinned woman replied, taking up a small scroll from the girl's limp fingers.
"Let us through! I know her!"
"Constance?" d'Artagnan said in surprise.
Treville looked at the Gascon, and ordered the Red Guard to let her through before he dismounted.
"Oh!" Constance gasped, her hand to her mouth at the sight of the girl, dead and trodden on.
"What was her name?" Treville questioned.
Constance shakily knelt beside Porthos, and hand gripping the strong woman's shoulder for support. For an instant, the girl in front of her was replaced by a man with a slashed face before she shook it off. "Thérèse —her name is Thérèse Dubois."
"What was she doing?" d'Artagnan wondered softly.
"I'm not sure—" The woman shook her head helplessly, and he briefly reached across and touched her shoulder in comfort.
"An' this?" Porthos asked, unrolling the small scroll she'd found in the girl's palm.
With lightly trembling hands she forced still, she took the page and upon reading its contents, made all the more confused. "Fleur?" she wondered. "What does this mean?" she looked over her shoulder, but the blond girl wasn't at her side like she had thought. "Fleur?" she called.
The crowd pressed in, trying to gab at the sight of the dead girl. Porthos covered her body gently.
"Porthos, d'Artagnan—escort..." Treville started, gesturing at Constance.
"Madame Bonacieux." d'Artagnan said.
He nodded. "Apologies. Madame Bonacieux, home—and find out all she knows. I'll have the girl taken to the morgue, and I'll be at the palace to report to the King."
Treville returned to the palace with the letter from the dead girl.
"Was it an attempt on my life?" the King asked nervously.
"The young woman merely want to present this petition to the Queen." He held up the scroll.
"To me?" the Queen asked in surprise. "Why?"
"She was an orphan from a humble background." He said of what he was able to get from Constance before Porthos and d'Artagnan took the woman home. The Cardinal approached and took the scroll from him. "It has something to do with a plea for women's education."
"If she was an illiterate orphan, she could not have written this." The Cardinal skimmed over the contents. "It is misguided, but not unintelligent."
"You don't favour women's education?" the Queen asked coolly.
The man responded clearly. "I admire learning wherever it is to be found, but this amounts to an attack on the authority of the Church and state."
Whatever the Queen might have said in response was interrupted as a tall and beautiful blond woman burst through the door, with an attendant attempting to halt her passage.
"Stay out of my way!" the woman brushed passed the man. "I will address the King."
"Your Majesty, I am so sorry!" the attendant apologized profusely.
The Cardinal ordered the man away with a sharp gesture and the man was nearly prostrate as he backed out of the room, closing the doors. Treville shifted aside an inch, least the woman attempt to run him over as well. Though the Cardinal looked displeased at her appearance, the King did not.
"Comtesse de Larroque!" Louis grinned. "To what do I owe the honour?"
"Your Majesty." Ninon de Larroque bowed slightly in deference to the King and that was the end of it before she spoke. "I want to know why this tragedy happened. If your guards are to blame, I want them punished." She gave a scathing look aside at Treville at this remark.
Treville made no outward response to the aside.
"You knew this lunatic?" Richelieu exclaimed.
"She was sane as you or me." Ninon paused. "Well, me, anyway. She was the daughter of a servant of mine. She had wits and ability. I decided to give her an education."
The King stuttered. "A servant girl? An education? Sorry, I don't follow."
"It seems you have educated her too well." The Cardinal said dryly, handing her the note of previously clean and beige parchment, now marked with dirt and light smears of brown blood. "She wrote this and then was killed trying to give it to the Queen."
"Don't be ridiculous." She rolled her eyes. "She didn't write it, I did!"
Treville finally spoke. "Did you tell this young girl to give her petition to the Queen?"
Ninon didn't address Treville, but the Queen. "I merely told her that the Queen is a woman of wisdom and kindness, who might sympathize with our cause."
"I shall read it." The Queen promised quietly and the other woman nodded.
"Walk with me in the garden, Ninon." Louis smiled, turning to other matters. "I've often found your company as stimulating."
"Another time, Your Majesty." Ninon declined. "I am too distressed at present." She bowed and left just as quickly as she had entered. Treville knew she was going to be trouble.
"Did she just refuse my company?" The King was dumbfounded.
"I believe she did, Sire." Anne said.
"Is that allowed?" Louis wondered.
"Apparently, the Comtesse de Larroque believes herself above the normal laws and conventions of society." The Cardinal replied scathingly.
Treville was dismissed and shortly after, the Cardinal left and met with his Agent.
"The Treasury if bankrupt and the country needs a new navy. Ninon has the wealth to provide it." Richelieu said quietly as the pair walked through the empty hall. "Does she trust you?"
"She knows me only as the wealthy widow Madame de la Chapelle." Milady de Winter paused in amusement. "I am famous for my good works."
"Your job is to find something I can use against her." They paused at the bottom of a slightly curved stair. "These girls she encourages... is her interest in them healthy?"
She murmured coldly, "How like a man to think of that. I have no evidence to suggest otherwise."
"Then find some." He ordered her and started up the stair. He had been keeping his eye on the woman for some time now, her fortune the draw of his attention, and her actions party to his scorn. "Ninon must pay up or face destruction. I want every last penny from her."
"Mmm." Milady went back the way she had come, her pace casual and unconcerned with getting caught. Of her orders, the latter sounded much more appealing.
Thérèse Dubois was taken to the morgue, while d'Artagnan and Porthos took Constance back home. This matter no longer concerned the dead girl, but the very much alive, Fleur Dubois. They entered the Bonacieux's sewing room, which had seen many a Musketeer secret meeting over the last months.
"I can't bear the thought of Fleur alone, lost in Paris." Constance said, worry turning her stomach at the thought of what might be happening to the girl.
"We don't know that anything bad has happened to her." d'Artagnan tried to abate an unneeded fear.
Constance shook her head. "She wouldn't just disappear!"
"We'll find her." d'Artagnan ensured. "Whatever the reason, wherever she might have gone. I promise." He reached out and squeezed her arm comfortingly.
She nodded, knowing the Gascon would do everything in his power to see that his word was kept true. But that didn't stop her from worrying, especially after what happened to Thérèse. "Oh, what am I going to tell her father?"
"How is it that you know Fleur?" Porthos asked.
"Her father is my husband's cousin. I promised I'd help look out for her. I—"
Porthos nodded and gestured for the woman to sit. She crouched in front of her and gave her an encouraging smile. "'Ow long have you known our friend Thérèse?"
"A Month or so. I met her from Fleur."
"Okay. An' you're sure you don't know anythin' about that letter she 'ad?"
"Well, there is one thing…" Constance said slowly after a moment. "Comtesse de Larroque, she'd taken an interest in her. Thérèse was her maid. She was teaching her to read and write."
d'Artagnan shook his head at the concern. "Many enlightened nobles show a kindness to their servants."
"No, this was more than that." She looked between the pair, insistent. "Thérèse knew Greek and Latin—and even studied the stars. Fleur—Fleur attended some of the lessons as well, in secret."
Porthos stood and hooked her thumbs in her belt, and looked over at d'Artagnan. "Treville needs to 'ear this."
Athos and Aramis escorted the man from the alley, who they discovered, was a Father of the Church, to the palace. It was upon their arrival that they ran into Treville who had been with the King not too long ago. At the Father's seeing the King and Cardinal was sorted, Treville gave the pair a brief rundown of what had transpired of the parade shortly after they had separated from the guard to assist their man.
Finally, they entered the throne room with the King and Queen awaiting in their seats. Richelieu briefly conversed with the man as he walked him to the two royals.
The last time Athos had been here, she'd made the Duke of Savoy bleed. Aramis wished that she could have seen that man cower under her sister's blade, but she had to make do with the colourful rendition that Porthos always told her upon her request during some of her dimmer moods.
Athos stood at attention, and though the King's conversation with the Father and Cardinal carried back to them in the hall, she soon found it beyond her want of attentions as they spoke of religion. That was more under Aramis' hat than hers. But soon, her attention was drawn back as the King stood to dismiss the Father curtly with a: "I trust your time in Paris to be pleasant, however brief it may be." And Treville took the opening to make his approach.
"Your Majesty," Treville said. "A young woman, Fleur Baudin has gone missing—a friend of the girl who died this morning." The King sat. "We have reason to believe the Comtesse de Larroque may know something of her whereabouts."
"What makes you so certain?" the Queen questioned.
"We have a witness that admitted she regularly attended the Comtesse's salon and seem enthralled by her."
"That's very, very shocking." The Cardinal said wily. "We can't have the Comtesse abducting these young women and spiriting them away to her boudoir."
Anne narrowed her green eyes. "Whatever are you implying, Cardinal?"
"There have been ugly rumours, Your Majesty." Richelieu addressed the King. He paused. "It's all scurrilous nonsense, I'm sure."
Louis was quiet for a moment, serious lines aging his usually boyish appearance. "Handle this discreetly, Captain Treville. The Comtesse is from a very distinguished family. I don't want her upset unduly."
"Of course, Your Majesty." Treville nodded and bowed, before he retreated back to the doors, and collected Athos and Aramis on his way. "Collect Porthos and d'Artagnan. I want to know what Comtesse de Larroque knows of the girl's disappearance."
Both nodded and left the palace, retrieving their horses, they rode to the Bonacieux residence to gather their brother and sister.
Athos, Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan entered Ninon's library unmolested. It was a large, round room, its walls lined with bookshelves, filled. Few fat pillars lined the edges of the room. The floor was pact with tables, most occupied by some-thirty women. There was a second floor balcony, which wrapped around the room, accessible by a winding stair.
"Does anyone here know the whereabouts of Mademoiselle Fleur Baudin?" Athos called without preamble.
As the odd foursome drew the attention of the gathered women, Milady, sitting at the single table aside of the room, was thankfully out of immediate sight of the intruders. She straightened immediately at the sound of her ex-lovers voice. The Cardinal had said nothing of the Musketeers interference!
Ninon approached across the floor, having already returned from her visit to the palace not to long beforehand. "If you have questions, Musketeer, address them to me."
Milady stood and discreetly moved further from view as Athos stepped forward. "Comtesse de Larroque. I am here on behalf of the King. My name is—"
Ninon interrupted her. "I know who you are. I've seen you often at court and thought how beautiful you are, despite your effort to try and hide in in those men's clothing." Her eyes scoured the woman black leather bound body openly. Athos' gaze flickered away, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny. She hadn't been looked at like that in such a long time. "There is a melancholy aspect to your looks that I find intriguing—but it's probably only mental vacancy."
The faceless amount of woman scattered around at the tables chuckled lightly at this, and Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan shared both surprised and amused looks at the remark.
Athos found the blond woman's face firmly and impersonally. "I hope not." She replied courteously. "But forgive our intrusion."
"I will not forgive it." Ninon replied coldly. "This is a place of scholarship, where women can enjoy each other's company without the crude attention of men." Her gaze pointedly carved to d'Artagnan behind Athos' shoulder, standing between Porthos and Aramis. "What is it that you want?"
"Mmm?" her attention had been drawn other where, like to how beautiful and sharp-tongued this woman was. The only one she had know with such a sharp tongue had been A—she shook out of the past and into the present. Something told her there was going to be nothing simple about this encounter. "Ah. We are looking for Fleur Baudin. She has run away from her family and they are anxious."
"Anxious to marry her into a life of domestic slavery, no doubt." She replied curtly and Athos scoffed in reply. "She's not here. You can go now." She dismissed the foursome clearly and with the flick of her hand, and turned away.
"Your broach." Porthos called after her, making her pause and turn back. "What does it mean?"
"It is a wren. A bird that cannot be caged. A symbol of hope and freedom."
The only Wren Porthos knew of, was the tavern in the seedier part of Paris, which she had frequented when she was still part of the Court of Miracles with Charon and Flea. But Charon was dead now, and Porthos hadn't visited the tavern or those parts since. Though she had run into Flea once.
"A symbol of your own dreams and ambition, I would imagine?" Aramis remarked.
"Ah! A romantic." Ninon turned her attention briefly towards the markswoman. "I see you haven't lost your womanhood by being in the company of such brute men."
"On the contrary," she said, "I make them gladly acknowledge the superiority of our fairer sex. So I shall accept the description." She twirled her hand and bowed, her brown eyes sparkling.
"Your charm won't work here. We are quite immune." Ninon retorted, though by the quiet giggles from some of the other women, that rang false.
"And what of you?" her eyes cut to d'Artagnan. "It's not very often a man walks into our presence here."
d'Artagnan hooked his thumbs in his belt. "Perhaps none have been brave enough to enter such a place."
Ninon demurred falsely. "Yes, scared of a woman with an education."
d'Artagnan's eyes widened at the false accusation directed at him, along with the near thirty pairs of eyes. He believed women just as capable as men, if not more. Aramis, Athos, Porthos, and Constance were proof of that. The station for which one was born, meant nothing. Porthos raised herself since a young child in the Court of Miracles, and now she was one of the best Musketeers in the garrison. "You think I could survive in my position and believe such a thing?"
"'E's right, you know." Porthos said, and slung an arm around the young man's shoulders.
"You think we would be tolerable of such a thing?" Aramis agreed. "Charlie here is as bright and capable as any woman." She winked.
d'Artagnan's olive cheeks turned ruddy with blush as the women around the library chuckled at this. While his time with the Inseparables and Constance had taught him many things, women would always be a novel thing to him. He remembered Treville's comment to him when they first met, and the Gascon confessed that the Inseparables were like warrior angels—his Angels—and it did and would ring true on several occasions.
"They'll eat you alive, son."
And if he ever stepped out of line like Ninon was suggesting, they would—nothing left would remain but the bones.
"Cute—like a puppy." Ninon replied tersely with lightly narrowed eyes. "Have you taught him to roll over yet? Or does he still piddle on the rug?"
Instantly, the demeanour of his Angels changed at this scathing and derogatory remarks at him. Of course, they could jab such jests at him, for there was nothing cruel in their manner—but in Ninon's, the opposite rang true.
Athos held back the pairs scathing remarks with a minimal twitch of her black leather encased shoulder. "We are not here to discuss your false beliefs." Athos stated coldly. "We are simply looking for Fleur Baudin."
Ninon turned her attention from d'Artagnan to Athos, the main point of her wanted focus. She narrowed her eyes. "And I've already told you she's not here."
Athos stepped from the other three and closer to Ninon. "Then you won't mind if we search your house?"
"On the contrary," she quipped with a raised chin. "I mind very much."
Athos inhaled and gave a small nod. "I could insist."
"Or you could take my word." She matched the other woman's steps, and drew close in front of her. "Am I right?" she whispered quietly, just between the two of them. "Is there an inner sadness that informs the beauty of your features? Answer me honestly, and I shall endeavour to allow you to search my house."
Athos was quiet for a long moment as she looked into Ninon's eyes, so close and locked with her own. The King had wanted no fuss made about this. So she endeavoured to make the vaguest response that she might, in turn. "We all have our deep secrets and hidden emotions, Comtesse. Allow me to keep mine to myself."
Ninon sighed. "A barely adequate answer. But I'm feeling indulgent. Follow me." She turned and started to walk away through the occupied tables. Athos followed, gesturing behind for the others to stay their place.
Milady watched, unnoticed. Her green eyes narrowed with both anger and jealousy as her gaze followed the pair until they were out of sight. Lifting a novel to her nose, she was able to cover her retreat unnoticed and unrecognized by d'Artagnan.
Porthos, d'Artagnan, and Aramis closed ranks among themselves further.
"I feel violated in ways I didna know were possible. " Porthos murmured.
"You?" d'Artagnan raised a brow at the tall woman. He believed that she was the only one who remained untouched by Ninon's barbed tongue.
Aramis nodded in agreement with her friend. "I didn't know such places could be touched. And trust me, I have every knowledge."
d'Artagnan scoffed and shook his head. There were so many things he could have said in response, but instead, he voiced one of the more interesting things to have happened. "Is that why Athos is flirting with her? Because she can touch all the same places?"
"What?" Porthos shook her head. "No way! She 'ates 'er guts."
Aramis shook her head in sympathy at her friend and reached around d'Artagnan's back to pat the woman in the same manner on the back. "Next we get the moment, I'll sit you down and explain the ways of your own sex to you."
There was soft amusement in the Spaniards eyes, and d'Artagnan tried to swallowed the laughter as Porthos pursed her lips and glowered at the other woman. And then the tall woman grinned and chuckled and the other two joined.
"I don't think I've seen Athos flirt before." He remarked, his arms crossed contemplatively over his chest.
"Mmm." Aramis nodded her agreement. "That's because it's a rare sight indeed."
"Athos ain't like us normal people." Porthos rumbled.
"It's in the eyes, you see?" and Aramis turned to face straight on at the unsuspecting Gascon with what Porthos always said in regards to her "flashin' th' eyes."
It was a manner which she periodically flashed without knowing in any manner of situation, that had as much chance of landing them into trouble as of getting them out.
d'Artagnan froze for a long moment as he stared into those smouldering brown eyes. He would admit, that each of these three woman were very beautiful indeed—made even more so by him knowing them—but he thought of them in regards as nothing more than sisters.
He gasped harshly as he was finally able to tear his eyes away and put his hand over his thumping heart mockingly. "Never do that to me again—least I take you where you stand!"
Porthos grinned and grabbed him around the shoulders, shaking him enthusiastically. "I knew there was a reason I liked you—immune to what Aramis thinks is 'er charm."
"What do you mean, 'think'?" Aramis narrowed her eyes. Porthos snorted in response, and then Aramis got a sly curve to her lips as she looked at the Gascon. "And that only because of the lovely dear Madame Bonacieux."
"What?" d'Artagnan scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about." He said unconvincingly.
"Right." She rolled her eyes. "One day, I'll get you to submit."
"Submit to what?" he asked worriedly.
Her only answer was a wicked grin.
After Father Luca Sestini was dismissed by the King, the Cardinal took him to his office, where briefly, they spoke of the Pope and the Church in a dry and medicore conversation. Until finally, Luca presented his single saddle bag salvaged from the robbery in the alley, for which he was saved from by Athos and Aramis.
"I have gifts for you, from the Holy Father." And he pulled out a small, ornate, round box with straight edges, and set it on the desk in front of the Cardinal. "The knee bone of St. Anthony of Padua, one of Rome's most precious relics." Richelieu opened the lid, and flicked aside the silk cloth covering to reveal the bone. "It is old, and by God's grace, immaculately preserved."
"So I see." He murmured.
"I had other gifts for you but, sadly, there were stolen on my arrival." Yes, it was a loss. But the knee bone would have to suffice in the circumstances. "There is just one other small thing... the Holy Father has been ill. Thoughts naturally turn to the succession. There are many who consider you the outstanding candidate. The highest office within the Catholic Church is within you grasp. You must choose what to do next. This woman, the Comtesse de Larroque—deal with her firmly. The Church likes it when heresy is rooted out. A woman who openly defies God's laws? There is no other word for her."
"I am deeply humbled." Richelieu allowed as he processed what he had been told. "I will consider my options."
Sestini nodded and stood. "Perhaps you can pray to St. Anthony for guidance." He said suggestively before he turned and left, leaving the Cardinal to his meditation and his means to an end.
"There," Ninon replied as Athos followed her into another spare room. "You have searched every room in my house."
Athos turned to her. "I would have taken your word for it. It was you who insisted on the search."
Ninon raised her chin. "Fleur Baudin is not here. I don't know where she is. Do you know how many husbands, fathers, lovers, brothers, come here looking for their lost little girls? It can never be that these women choose to leave of their own free will. It must always be that Ninon de Larroque has corrupted them."
The Musketeer thought her protest too much. "Thérèse and Fleur were far below you in status. They were not in a position to make a decision of their own free will."
"I view all woman as equal no matter what the circumstance of their birth."
"You have the money and the position to indulge such whims." She gestured. "Look outside your window and tell me everyone is equal."
Ninon slowly stepped closer to the other woman. "But you are not below my station, are you... Comtesse?"
Athos paused, not moving. "Thank you for your help." Was her only reply.
"What is it you want from me?" she whispered.
"You know what I wish to know." Athos' reply was just as level.
"My only answer is this..." And Ninon overcame that last bit of space between them, took hold of either side of her face and kissed her.
After a beat, Athos raised her hands to the smaller woman's hips and kissed her back. It had been such a long time since she allowed herself to feel such a tenderness. When they broke from the kiss, Athos still held the woman to her. Their connected gazes were intense.
"Come back and dine with me this evening." Ninon didn't so much as request, as her fingertip traces the strip of exposed flesh at Athos open-collared doublet and shirtsleeves where forever was hidden Anne's locket.
For whatever reason, Athos agreed. She'd only ever been with one woman before, Anne. And after such a betrayal as the woman had done unto her, Athos had sworn off any thoughts of a romantic relationship. Her heart could not take another beating. But there was something in her that wanted to trust and try with this woman, and she indulged herself.
It was later that night, that Milady was in the Comtesse's bedroom, helping her ready for her date with Athos. When Ninon told her of the kiss, it took all her reserved not to choke the woman with the diamond necklace she was currently fitting around her thin neck.
"Her face must have been the picture of surprise." She replied instead. When she had witnessed Athos leave with the others from the salon earlier, she had seen it in the bright blue eyes of hers.
"Why shouldn't I make the first move? I desired her, therefore I acted." She shrugged. "If I adhered to the normal costumes of the social norm now, what would that say about me?"
She wanted to lash out, to hurt this woman. But the Cardinal would be seriously displeased if Milady just killed the insolent woman. Milady chuckled. "I could never be so bold."
"You'd be amazed at what can happen when a woman takes initiative."
You have no idea, she thought. "I'm sure I would." She paused and decided to cast doubt. "Be careful, I know this woman. She will seek to trap you and steal your voice."
Ninon's gaze flickered over to her in the reflection of the mirror. "You know her? How?"
She gave a small shrug and shake of her head, and said demurely, "It was only a passing acquaintance." She sighed. "Between ourselves... Fleur Baudin, is she here?"
Ninon just smiled at her, not answering, before she turned back to the mirror. Milady burned with anger. She would make this woman pay, and it was going to burn.
Athos was left waiting in the library, empty of so many women as before, all returned to their homes at this late hour. She remembered the library her family had collected over the generations, but it was nowhere near as grand as what Ninon was able to create.
Ninon paused at the doorway, allowing herself to observe the woman who had caught her attention so. Her mind flickered briefly back to the vagueness of what Madame de la Chapelle had told her of this Musketeer
Her friends were an interesting trio as well. They were intelligent, loyal, and beautiful—just as the woman in front of her. They were qualities she could admire.
"Don't look so worried." She mused as she approached and the other woman turned to her. "I won't kiss you again if you don't desire it."
"I'm better prepared to fight you off this time." Athos smiled.
"Yes, your counter this morning was rather mild." She returned the gesture. "Shall we dine?
"There is something I would wish to show you first." Athos told her.
Curiosity taking her, she accepted the unknown proposal. The Morgue was the last place she expected to be taken, and that was exactly where Athos took her.
She gasped as the armed woman pulled back the sheet to one particular body, and despite the damage done to the young girl, Ninon recognized her immediately. She looked away. "Why are you showing this to me?"
Athos watched her from the other side of the table. "Do you not feel responsible?"
Ninon fixed her with a steady gaze. "I gave Thérèse an education, clothing and food. I saved her from a life selling her body for survival. Is that such a crime?"
"No." She agreed. "But only if you did not encourage the reckless act that cost her life."
"That, I did not." She looked back down at the girl sadly. "I was fond of her." She briefly touched the bare and bruised shoulder. "I feel pity and sorrow, but not guilt." She looked back across at Athos with unshed tears in her eyes.
"I didn't mean to upset you." Athos apologized.
"Yet you did." She looked back at Thérèse . "This is the way we all must end. Our foolish hearts stopped. Souls utterly departed." She shook her head. "She was too young." She sniffled. "Please, cover her face."
Athos stepped forward and did so, and through the flickering candlelight, her eye was drawn passed Ninon's shoulder and to another occupied table. Intent, she walked around the table and Ninon. Her attention drawn to the black bag on the corner of the table with the covered deceased.
"Do you know him?" Ninon asked.
"A thief. He escaped me this morning." She called over to the coroner. "How did he die?"
The coroner approached. "No idea. I've had a dozen fresh cadavers already. He'll have to wait his turn."
"Look after this bag." Athos told him. "I'll send for it in the morning." He gestured to Ninon and the pair left the building of the dead.
"May I ask..." Athos said after they had been walking side-by-side in silence since leaving the morgue. As they neared the woman's salon, she felt as if she were loosing whatever chance they had. "Do you dislike men?"
Ninon chuckled. "I've had many suitors. Some really quite acceptable. But I believe marriage to be a curse." They stopped. "I will not submit to it."
"As it happens, I agree. But why?"
"You can understand what it means. I am a wealthy woman, but on my wedding day, everything that I own becomes the property of my husband—including my body." Her voice was hard. "I will not be owned by anyone but myself."
"So, what they say is true?" Athos murmured. "You are a rebellious woman?"
Ninon grinned. "It takes one to know one. Does that frighten you?"
"No." Athos paused and looked at the woman in front of her. And she admitted to something only those closest knew the vaguest about. "But, I was in love once, and she..." She gave her head a shake. "Now, I'm done with romance."
Ninon cocked her head lightly. "It ended badly?"
"You could say that." She said bitterly.
Ninon reached up and Athos allowed the woman to cup her cheek. "She is the one that causes you such sorrow?"
Nothing in her expression betrayed a denial or acceptance of this statement, but the answer appeared clear. "We all have our deep secrets—"
"Yes," she whispered and reclaimed her hand. "And I shall endeavour to allow you yours. Perhaps one day, you will tell me."
"GET OUT!" Aramis' clear voice rang out in the night, and both woman turned to see the doors to the library being thrown open and the Spaniard tossing a senseless Red Guard out on his ass. She saw the pair. "You're just in time. We've got trouble." And she quickly disappeared to whatever chaos was happening inside.
"Those are the Cardinal's men." Athos turned to Ninon. "I knew nothing of this." And rushed inside.
Woman were running around senselessly and scared as several Red Guards continued to vandalize the place in whatever quest the Cardinal had sent them on. Needlessly throwing books off the shelve and tearing the pages from the spines.
"My works! Stop! No!" Ninon cried out in horror.
Aramis swept a Guard's legs out from under him, he crashed to the floor.
Athos quickly grabbed Ninon and pushed her back out of the chaos and against a pillar. "Stay here." She grabbed a passing Guard. "Where is your authority for this?" she demanded.
Seeing her pauldron, the Guard grabbed for her. She diverted his grasp, grabbed his elbow, and spun the man around, almost using him as a wrecking ball, bowling him into a passing Guard. If that was how they wanted to play this.
The Spaniard was in the process of kicking the downed Guard's teeth loose, when another grabbed her from behind. She struggled to get loose, but managed to buck him back against one of the stone pillars. His hold on her loosened, and she turned, and swing. She hit him once, but her strike rebounded the back of his head into the pillar and he slumped down to the floor.
These Red Guards were like ants!
One drew his sword and started to advance on the brown-eyed Musketeer.
Seeing Aramis reach for her sword, ready to draw, Athos realized the last thing they needed were several dead Red Guards on their hands. "Here!" she called to the woman, and tossed her a tome.
She caught it with a raised brow, but had to act fast when the Guard came at her with a downwards stroke of his sword. In an impressive sequence of moves, like an art form, Aramis manipulated the book in her hands and disarmed on Guard and knocking him out cold, to quickly spin on her heels and take out another.
Athos found a tome of her own, and though her handwork was not as fancy as Aramis' it got the work done, before she threw it away and decided to just use her hands. Why throw away something that she already knew worked?
A Red Guard charged out from the back of the salon, bellowing. "We've found them!" And he was dragging three girls in their nightgowns behind him. "Sleeping in a hidden bedchamber." The fighting ceased. "Cometesse de Larroque," he approached the blond woman. "On orders of the Cardinal, you are under arrest for the abduction of Fleur Baudin and others."
Athos turned to Ninon. "You said she wasn't here." She made no move to stop it as a Red Guard grabbed the smaller woman.
"She begged me not to tell anyone." She pleaded for the Musketeer to understand. Athos stared unfriendly back.
"Please! Make them stop!" Fleur cried as they dragged Ninon from the library.
"Sorry. I can't." Athos told the young girl, and she and the others were led out as well.
Athos could feel Aramis' piercing stare as they were left standing there alone, but her gaze only flickered to the other's briefly. She had been so stupid. Just like before. She'd let Ninon distract her. Draw her from the obvious truth, or lie as it was. She'd fallen for it, even as she had promised herself there would never be a second time.
Athos, Porthos, and Aramis rode in escort to the Monastery of the Holy Cross the next morning, with Ninon as their prisoner on His Eminence's orders.
"Why is she bein' tried 'ere?" Porthos asked as they dismounted in courtyard. Without word, Ninon was escorted away by some Red Guards.
"The Cardinal wants to avoid a public hearing." Aramis said.
The tall woman shook her head. "Does anyone really believe in witchcraft?"
"The accusation is a fine way to stop the tongues of outspoken women." She said disdainfully. "Everyone knows an educated woman is a dangerous woman, best to strike them out quickly, hmm?"
"She had the girls." Athos spoke for the first time in an unseemly long while. Hardly since the night before when Ninon was arrested. "She lied. She brought her fate upon herself."
Aramis looked at her. "You're being to hard on her. She was protecting the girl—not deceiving you, Athos."
Athos turned her blue stare upon the other woman. "What exactly were you doing there last night? You never said."
She narrowed her eyes. "Not that I have to explain myself—I was passing by when I witnessed the Red Guard swarm into the library."
"You just 'appened to be passin' by?" Porthos raised a knowing brow.
"Despite the sharpness of her tongue Madame de Larroque's intelligence and passion interested me and I wanted to speak with her. And to inquire if I might be able to pursue some of her works. It is hard to find intelligent conversation these days," she said that last remark with a glance and smirk at the dark-skinned woman, who looked blandly amused.
Athos suddenly turned away and distanced herself several steps, and Aramis turned around to see Ninon being brought through for her appointment in trial by the monastery's jailer and several nuns on her tail. The Spaniard didn't hesitate in intercepting them and halting their progress.
"For what it's worth, Madame, this trial is a mockery to religion." Aramis clasped the woman's hand. "The God I believe in stands for love—not cruelty."
Ninon welcomed the comfort, however little it was. "You are a contradiction, Aramis. The soldier who preaches love and a famous libertine who cherishes women and men."
Aramis smiled and took off her hat, hanging it on the hilt of her rapier. "We all search for truth in different ways." Making a minute decision, knowing that it was the right thing to do, Aramis removed the Queen's chain and string Cross from around her own neck. "If you have faith in your heart, take this. Please, take it." And she put in into Ninon's palm and curled her fingers around the Cross. "My God will not abandon you."
The jailer finally decided time enough was wasted and grasped Ninon's arm, pushing passed Aramis. Ninon's gaze found Athos, but Athos only met it at the last moment. And a second later, it was broken.
d'Artagnan watched from the hall in the Bonacieux house, flipping Vadim's coin between his fingers as Fleur returned from the Red Guards on the Cardinal's orders, sobbed into Constance shoulder.
Constance rubbed the girl's shoulder soothingly. "It's not so easy when you don't have money. We all just have to accept out fate in life."
"Why?" Fleur pulled back. "So we can end up like you, married to a man you hate?"
"I don't hate Bonacieux." Constance denied, and unintentionally, her gaze flickered aside and caught d'Artagnan's. She quickly turned back to Fleur. "I'm only trying to be realistic."
Fleur's father charged in after that, and after a brief, tightly muzzled row with Constance, Robert Baudin took his daughter away to participate in the trial deemed to condemn Ninon de Larroque, with the agreement he had made with the Cardinal privately.
"It's going to all right, Constance." d'Artagnan said and sat beside her.
Constance shook her head. "You can't possibly know that."
"Maybe. You're just going to have to trust me." And she let him wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her against his side.
Four chairs sat upon a railed platform in the hall. The Cardinal sat in the center, Father Sestini on his right, and two others from the Monastery occupying the others. A section of the back hall was cornered off with portable railings for the gathering. The Inseparables and Treville were present in a small cluster after the railings. In center, stood Ninon, discreetly chained to the podium in front of her and a chair behind her respectively. Several Friars were scattered around the room. While a pair of nuns were stationed a few paces behind Ninon's shoulders.
Richelieu called for attention and began the proceedings. "Comtesse Ninon de Larroque. Confess your offences now, and spare your victims the ordeal of giving testimony."
"I cannot confess to imaginary crimes." She denied him a quick ruling.
"Do you deny you believe in Satan's magic? Now, I advice you to consider your answer seriously."
"And I advice you not to ask ridiculous questions." She replied and the gathered audience chuckled. "Witchcraft is just the belief of those too ignorant to know better, Cardinal. Just because a woman is educated and in full use of her faculties, does not mean the Dark Arts are at work."
Fleur Baudin was called as witness after that. The girl was lead forward through the crowd. She stopped before the Cardinal, but glanced back at Ninon. The blond woman gave her a firm and encouraging nod. Fleur turned back to the Cardinal, requested a glass of water for which Richelieu poured himself into his own cup and handed it down to her. Taking a sip, the girl handed it back and did the right thing like her father had told her to do. She spoke the truth.
"The Comtesse taught us things. Not just embroidery and sewing. Natural philosophy, the movements of the cosmos, the secrets of our bodies." In retrospect, she could have explained herself fairer, but by then it was too late.
"Your bodies?" the Cardinal repeated. "So, she took you and locked you in a secret room, and showed you intimate things?"
Fleur shook her head, her tongue frozen in horror as she realized what the Cardinal was saying. She glanced back at Ninon.
"You twist every word that comes out of her mouth." Ninon accused.
"Be quiet, or you'll be gagged."
"I was gagged the day I was born a woman!"
"Cheap sentiments." Richelieu scoffed. He turned his attention back to Fleur. "There's no need to be ashamed, chid. This woman has used you for her foul appetites. You cannot be blamed."
"You're making her work sound corrupt. You will suffer for this! You're the one who'll be judged!" Fleur screamed at him, finding her tongue too late.
"Take her away." He waved his hand and a pair of monks stepped forward and escorted Fleur back out of the hall. The Cardinal called his second witness. He knew from the start that he would have Ninon's fortune, brandishing his secret weapon. "The court will hear the testimony of Madame de la Chapelle." He drank from the same glass he had poured for Fleur.
Milady came through the second door at the back of the hall, a lace hand-fan open and fluttering as she used it subtly to mask her face as she slipped in behind Athos back without the Musketeer noticing her. Her sly smile was hidden from view as the assassin passed the accused woman as she stopped before her proprietor.
Richelieu smiled. "Madame de la Chapelle. Tell us of your experience at the Comtesse's salon."
Mirroring Fleur's actions from earlier, she glanced behind her at Ninon from behind her fan, Athos view of her blocked by a line of men. "Ninon did to me, what I saw her do to other women." She smoothed the timber of her voice, making it more innocent and gentile. Athos cocked her head at the sound of the woman's voice, her view of her barred. "She gave me wine and a bitter potion of some kind. I felt unsteady, as though in a reverie. I awoke in her private chamber."
If d'Artagnan had been present, he would have recognized this woman not as Madame de la Chapelle, but perhaps as Milady de Winter, though as he didn't know that to be her name yet. This was the woman that he had first encountered his first day in Paris after his father's murder. He never caught her name. He'd slept with her, and woke the next morning accused of murder with evidence planted by her hand. He never thought he would see her again, only a month or so later, while he and the Inseparables were tasked with finding the whereabouts of Vadim's stockpile of gunpowder, did he come across her again. She's saved his life, him unarmed as two Red Guards cornered him, and she licked him with poisonous tongue. Coincidently, she had been in his life more times than that, though he didn't rightly know it. Stepping in upon Constance, and watching him from afar as she stalked Athos obsessively. And of her racing from the burning chateau on horseback with Athos still inside.
But Athos didn't know this Madame de la Chapelle, nor had she ever heard of this Milady de Winter. She simply knew this woman to be her former lover and the killer of her brother. To her, she was Anne.
"My clothes had been removed. I remember spells... and incantations. I felt a deep and terrible shame."
Athos slowly started to edge through the crowd.
"Why are you saying these things?" Ninon demanded in confusion.
"This woman is a liar!" Athos screamed, pointing. "She is not even who she claims to be! She is a convicted criminal and a deceiver!" She suddenly charged forward, her eyes wild, but the Guards held her back. Porthos, Aramis, and Treville quickly tried to take control.
"Why does this woman accuse me?" Milady widened her eyes in fear. "Is she a friend of Ninon's?"
"Retrain her immediately." The Cardinal ordered, stunned by this unexpected outburst.
"She is not to be trusted!" Athos didn't understand why no one was listening, why they weren't arresting her. Why she was being the one restrained?
"Athos! Calm!" Aramis called as they three managed to get her to the side of the hall and press her against the wall.
Richelieu quickly called into the confusion. "The court has heard enough from this witness. Your are excused."
Milady quickly left the way she had come, boldly passing the Musketeers and making open contact with Athos, whom was still being restrained and unable to make after her.
"Athos, you're not yourself." Aramis lamented.
"It is she, who is not!" Athos cried. "Let me after her!"
"Not until you calm yourself!" she repeated.
And it was only until after Milady was long gone, and she wasn't a raving lunatic that she was allowed her release.
"Who was that?" Porthos asked.
But Athos turned from them and left without answer, exiting the hall but unable to go no further. As much as the unreasonable part of her wanted to go tearing through the Monastery for Anne, she needed to know of Ninon's fate. What had Anne been doing here? What was her goal in infiltrating Ninon's women's study?
"Cometesse Ninon de Larroque," Richelieu gave his judgement, "It has been proven in the sight of God that you are a practicing witch who has consorted with the Devil. The court finds you guilty on all counts."
The Musketeers were disbelieved by this outcome. Witchcraft?
Ninon was pale and in a shock of her own. Her knees gave out beneath her and she was forced to sit. "But... this is madness. I... I am not a witch. They do not exist."
"More blasphemy!" Father Sestini spoke up, outraged. "Stop her mouth."
"Wait." The Cardinal stopped him. "At a time to be determined, you will be taken to a place of execution, and your body will be burned to ashes." A sudden appearance by the Queen caused all to pause. "Your Majesty." All seated, stood.
The Queen stopped purposefully next to Ninon, her chin held regally high. "It is the King's wish that unless the Comtesse de Larroque confesses to her crimes freely and without torture, she be spared the death sentence." Anne took the other blonde's hand and helped her stand.
Ninon looked at the Cardinal and when she spoke, her voice was firm. "I have never consorted with the devil until this very moment. I am looking right at him."
Richelieu pointed at her with a sharp finger. "Condemned form her own mouth. Such language amounts to a con... amounts to a con... to... to..." He suddenly grabbed at his throat as he started to gasp and choke. The glass on the rail was flung aside and smashed to pieces on the floor as he collapsed.
The hall turned into chaos, and Athos was drawn in by the noise. Aramis and Porthos ran up to the platform as the Cardinal collapsed, and Sestini knelt at his seizing side. Treville yelled, upon Aramis' order for castor oil and mustard. Between them, Aramis and Porthos carried the screaming and struggling Cardinal to his chambers at the Monastery and threw the man onto the bed.
"Where is the castor oil and mustard? He needs an emetic!" Aramis yelled as she tore off her glove and stuffed it into the man's mouth, preventing him from biting his tongue, as Porthos attempted to hold his struggling form down. "Let me loosen his robes. It's definitely poison."
The King had made an appearance amid the chaos. "What if he is called to God's right hand?" he asked Treville desperately. "What will I do?"
Treville tried to assure him. "All will be well, I'm sure. The Cardinal's made of granite." Though at the moment, it didn't seem like it.
But this assurance did nothing for the King, because what he was seeing and hearing contradicted every word. In a bout of hysteria, and very un-King-like, he managed to push passed Porthos. "Cardinal, please don't die!" he grabbed the ailing man's loosened robes and shook him unhelpfully. "Please don't die!"
"Your Majesty!" Treville managed to pull the royal off the poisoned man.
"The emetic, at once!" Aramis said as a monk rushed in the room carrying a jug. Athos ran to him and took it, running back to pass it to Aramis. "Hold him!" the Spaniard took no mercy on the man as Porthos and Athos struggled to hold him still and Aramis poured the discoloured liquid into his mouth before forcing his jaw shut and making him swallow.
"Whoever has done this, I want them found." Louis told Treville and he got down on his knees and prayed.
Aramis forced Richelieu to swallow the mixture between screams several more times before she finally relented what might seem like torture to an outside party, but what would hopefully or not save his life.
The others left to give dignity to the Cardinal, leaving Aramis to await with her experience until the Monastery surgeon finally arrived. Of course, he just confirmed what the Musketeer already knew, poison. He gave the Cardinal something to help him rest. The monk complimented her good eye and quick thinking and application of the castor oil and mustard.
She was making her way back towards the hall where Richelieu had gone down, to meet Porthos and Athos, when her name was called.
"Aramis." The Spaniard instantly stopped and turned at the soft call, to find the Queen standing in the portico. "The Cardinal. He will live then?" Aramis slowly approached her and made an uncertain gesture. "He's been no friend to the Musketeers."
"No matter, we are all servants of France, Your Majesty." And she gave a light bow. Her brows flickered when Anne seemed to hesitate.
Her gaze flickered down to Aramis' open collar and the lack of chain that usually designed the supple landscape. "I did not expect to find my gift to you around the Comtesse's neck." Aramis was surprised at the moment and was unsure what to say and Anne seemed to take that in a different meaning than it was intended. "Is Ninon your lover? She's very beautiful."
Aramis shook her head. "She is a good woman facing a hideous death. I—" she paused and licked her lips. "No offence was intended towards you. When you gave it to me, you said it helped you through trying times and wished it the same for me, for it to help keep me safe." Without thinking, she grasped the Queen's delicate fingers in her own. "And it has, My Queen. I only wanted to comfort her in this horrible moment, as you have given me comfort."
Anne's cheeks turned a pleasant warmth as she looked into Aramis' beautiful and sincere brown eyes, felt the warm grip of her hand. They had not spoken one-on-one like this since she had given the woman her Crucifix and it was easy to get distracted around the beautiful woman. She cleared her throat lightly and Aramis instantly let go of her hand and took a step back. "Ninon is a good woman and doesn't deserve what the sentence given to her. Thankfully, the King has prohibited her the death sentence under confession forced."
"Yes, His Majesty is a gracious and generous man."
Anne nodded. "Forgive my mistake. Your compassion does you credit."
Aramis smiled at her, and gave another bow as the Queen passed her and continued on her way. The Spaniard couldn't help but watch after her for a moment before she made herself go through the door and up the stairs.
The broken glass crunched under Porthos' heel as she approached the bench and took the intact water jug in hand and inspected it for any traces of would-be poison.
"I don't think that to be the culprit." Aramis said as she came in through the back of the hall, through the aisle, and to her waiting sisters. "Where is the Comtesse?"
"They took 'er back to 'er cell." Porthos put the jug back and turned to her. "The Cardinal?"
"Still alive—just." She said. "I brought you something." And held out said token.
"A gift—for me?" Porthos gave a mock gasp. "My hat? You shouldn't have!"
"I'll keep that in mind, next time." They smirked at each other.
"So... Who 'as reason to poison 'im?" She asked.
"Who hasn't?" Aramis returned.
There was no answer forthcoming, least of all from their silent third-party, who had been all but absent words since her outburst during trial. Porthos and Aramis had a silent conversation with each other, for which Porthos lost and was forced to take whatever hit might come.
"Athos." She said, turning to the other woman. Athos glanced aside at them, that was something at least. "That woman, Madame de la Chapelle," Athos faced them fully and her face was like stone. Porthos refused to back down. "Who was she?"
Aramis stood next to Porthos. "How do you know her? How did you know she was lying?"
Athos walked passed the pair, her hands clasped behind her back. She stopped in front of the grand arched window plaited with stained glass. "Her whole life is a lie." Came the ominous reply.
The two woman shared a look. That was usually the best they could ever expect from the Lieutenant.
"Whoever she is, she can wait." Porthos declared. "Right now, despite all, our job is to find out who tried to kill the Cardinal."
"It was clearly a witch." Father Sestini declared as he entered the hall. They all turned to face the short man. "You all heard her curse him."
"'E was poisoned, not bewitched." Porthos rolled her eyes, thankful that Aramis was not such a fantastic nut job in religion as this man was.
"Satan turned his blood into acid at her command. I've seen it before."
Definitely a nutcase. "We'll add Satan to the list of suspects." She said sarcastically and Aramis chuckled lightly.
"You laugh, and I... I shall pray for the Cardinal's life, because when men such as he are helpless against the power of evil—none of us are safe. I leave for Rome in the morning; Paris is no place for pious men." And he turned and started to make his leave.
"Your bag, Father." Athos called the man to a stop, taking a single step forward. "It was found in the morgue—with the body of the man who stole it. I'll see it's returned to you before you leave." Sestini just gave a tight smile and continued his leave. Athos watched after him with narrowed eyes.
"The only thing I know, is that we need to speak with Fleur Baudin." Porthos muttered.
They rode from the Monastery of the Holy Cross in Paris and to the Bonacieux residence where they knew that d'Artagnan would be with Constance and Fleur. But their questions of the girl brought no answers to light on the poisoning of the Cardinal.
Milady fed the Cardinal a glass of water, only able to make her appearance once the sun had fallen. The first thing from his lips was the question of whether it was her, and while flattering that he might think it her, they still had use for each other. After she cleared up his matter of dying with humour, he asked a question she had been expecting sooner or later.
"This Athos—what is she to you?"
"Let's not speak of it now." She replied clearly. "You must concentrate on your health."
"Whatever happens to me, I want you to extract this confession from Ninon. If she admits she is a witch, her entire estate will be forfeit to the Crown." Just the thing a girl wants to here. He reached for the small box at his beside, and Milady picked it up, curious, opening the lid.
Her expression twisted into a grimace of distaste. "Ugh, how disgusting. What is it?" she handed him the box.
He set it at his side, petting the smooth, old bone. "The knee bone of St. Anthony. I shall pray for his intercession." And he crossed himself with the same hand, fingertips brushing his lips.
Ninon sat at the small table in her cell, the Cross that Aramis had given her pressed against her lips in the flickering candlelight in prayer, when she heard the door open down the hall. She turned in her seat to see Madame de la Chapelle—or whomever she was—standing before her barred door.
Ninon approached. "Have you come to gloat?" she glared.
"I wouldn't waste my energy." She replied condescendingly.
"There's nothing worse than a woman who betrays her own sex."
"Oh, I can think a few things." She smirked.
"You—you are everything that a woman should vow not be."
"What's the fun in a wolf hunting sheep?" Milady shrugged.
"Oh, but you're not a sheep, are you?"
She simpered in response. "It's women like you that make me want to do what I do."
Ninon narrowed her eyes. "But it's her that you heart burns for." Speaking with this woman, remembering that conversation with Athos outside her salon and the Musketeer's reaction in court at the appearance of Madame de la Chapelle... the pieces fit quite smoothly, even if the picture dark.
Milady's face was stone. "Burns for her death."
"What was it that she did to you?" she gasped softly, shaking her head.
"... Burned the residue of love from my body." She shrugged simply.
"Why do you hate me?" Ninon demanded. "How have I ever hurt you?"
"You didn't—not really." She replied after a moment. "You're simply a victim of circumstance. And now, sadly, you must die."
The blond shook her head. "Not unless I admit to the charges, and I shall never do that!" she spat.
Milady narrowed her green eyes. "If you don't confess, the women of your salon will burn in your place. Surely you wish to save the lives of your accomplices in Satan?"
Ninon gasped. "You would do this? You would kill them, even though you know them innocent?" Milady indifferent air didn't change. "Who are you, truly? What are you?"
"Mmm. Not even I know that anymore." She smiled. "Do you need time to think on my offer?"
"Offer?" Ninon scoffed. "You're a wretched thing."
Milady chuckled and smiled her score. "Admit you poisoned the Cardinal, as well. We might as well be thorough."
Not fifteen minutes later, the Cardinal, propped up in his bed with pillows, read the short, written confession of Comtesse Ninon de Larroque in the flickering candlelight.
"Should I wonder how you achieved this?" he wondered.
Milady faced away from him, staring out the plain paned window in his chamber. "No scar visible, I can assure you."
Richelieu nodded. "Order them to make a pyre. She will die at first light." He called to the guard at the door, who immediately left. "Do you ever wonder what is to come after this life?" he asked her suddenly.
"Never, the Kingdom of Heaven is a dream." She answered him honestly. "Our only life is here."
"That's a cold outlook you have." He sighed, a bit out of breath. "I've done terrible things. My own account with God is not yet balance. I'm afraid... that if I die... I shall go to hell."
Milady chuckled hollowly at this. "We're already in Hell. Don't you recognize it?" She'd been there ever since Athos order her to hang.
It was the next early morning that d'Artagnan, Aramis, and Porthos visited the city morgue with Athos on the woman's whim. The question of Sestini's reaction to his bag being discovered with a dead body not sitting right with her, but even before than, when she was here with Ninon and first made the discovery.
There was an argument of who-done-it between Porthos and d'Artagnan that was just leading them in circles. While Aramis and Athos were having a quiet and intense spout of their own.
"You would see her burnt at the stake?" Aramis demanded.
"Of course not." Athos replied. "But if Ninon is guilty—"
"She hid the girl at the girl's own request. That does not warrant a painful death such as this."
"The King has ordered the death penalty commuted. Ninon will not confess."
"So, just prison for the rest of her life, then. A weight off our backs, is it?"
"You know that's not how it is." Athos glared at her. "We are here to answer a different line of questions, not talk of Ninon." She turned from the woman, and Aramis allowed it. "Where's the bag?" Athos demanded of the coroner. The man pointed. Athos squatted next to the small table holding the tools of the trade and retrieved the bag from the bottom of the shelf. "Did you ever find out how he died?"
"Some form of apoplexy. He was having a drink at an inn nearby. One moment he was laughing and joking, and the next he was convulsed and fell down, dead on the spot." The coroner left to attend to other bodies.
"Just like the Cardinal!" Aramis gasped.
"Luca Sestini." Athos muttered and opened the back, starting to pick out the contents onto the table, d'Artagnan coming around.
Aramis went around the other side of the man's body, Porthos coming across from her. She looked at the body, then to Porthos. "Open his mouth.|"
"You open 'is mouth." Porthos shot back.
She glowered, then, stealing herself, opened his mouth and sniffed. "Ugh!" she jumped back, hand to her nose. "He stinks."
Porthos gave her a look. "Well, 'e's dead."
"Well—not like that." She shook her head. "He's... there's something bitter on his tongue."
Curiosity making her go for it, the tall woman leaned over the man and took a cautious sniff. She coughed, jerking back, her eyes watering. "Oh! Either this man 'ad disgustin' eatin' habits, or somethin's badly wrong 'ere."
The contents from the bag were slowly piling up on the table, but all there seemed to be were rolled scrolls and loose papers. He picked up a tiny note book and flipped through the pages.
"I know that smell." Aramis muttered. "It was on the Cardinal's breath."
"You were close enough to smell th' Cardinal's breath? That'll make anyone shudder."
d'Artagnan rubbed the pages between finger and thumb, before rubbing them together just as plain. "These pages are damp."
"Poison." Athos said definitively. "Wash your hands—everything's soaked in it." She pulled out a small glass bottle and sniffed it, with much the same results as Aramis and Porthos with the man's mouth, though her reaction was more controlled and contained. "This is where it came from."
d'Artagnan quickly put the book down, and went to wash his hands in the water basin by the head of the corpse.
"'E must 'ave drunk half the bottle before 'e realized it wasn't alcohol." Porthos said, as Athos put the bag down and went to wash her hands in the same basin.
"Sestini's still at the abbey." d'Artagnan pointed out as he dried his hands.
"The Cardinal's still alive." Athos said and ran from the morgue, the others following quickly.
Porthos paused on the stairs. "This is the Cardinal we're talkin' about. Why are we runnin'" Aramis just shrugged.
They rode to the Monastery at a gallop.
Ninon stood in her cell at the abbey as a nun came and gave her her death gown.
The Cardinal lay in bed, every rubbing the knee bone, as in the yard, a pyre was being built.
Dressed, a Guard took Ninon.
They four pushed their horses hard. And made it too the court, just as the Red Guards finished building the pyre to Ninon's execution.
"What is this?" Athos demanded of one of the Guards. "The death sentence was commuted!"
"The Comtesse confessed." The Guard shrugged.
Unable to do anything on it for the moment, the four of them ran inside and came across a gaggle of hooded monks.
Aramis grabbed the lead monk. "Where is Father Sestini?"
"I don't know." was the answer she received.
Across the way, on the other side of the building, Aramis spotted the man in question. "He's over there!" They ran to the other side of the walk and the another group of monks and started pulling the hoods off. Setini broke from the group.
"He's not here!" d'Artagnan growled.
"The Cardinal's room." Porthos said.
Sestini made it to Richelieu's chambers unhindered, but was forced to kill the Red Guard with his dagger who stood outside his door. He carefully opened the door and approached the Cardinal's bed, careful to not wake the slumbering man. Athos ran in lead, her pistol drawn. Sestini raised the dagger over his head and stabbed. Unexpectedly, the Cardinal grabbed his wrist and struggled to keep it at bay in his weakened state. Sestini's free hand scrambled at the side table and grasped the two-prong there.
"Sestini!" Athos shouted, bursting through the door and firing her weapon. She struck the man in the back and he grunted, slumping onto the Cardinal. Athos jerked the injured man from him and handed him off to a Red Guard, who took the dead Father away.
"You're late!" Richelieu gasped, as below, a Guard dragged Ninon to the pyre.
"But you know it was Sestini who tried to poison you." Athos said, remembering the struggle of a man not caught by surprised.
Richelieu nodded and struggled to sit up. "A sacred relic soaked with poison." He touched the closed lid of said box. "An old papal trick. I should have guessed it earlier."
Aramis ran in. "We're running out of time." Ninon was already being bound to the post at the center of the pyre.
"You don't need to kill her." And Athos did something she never thought she would ever do, least of all to the Cardinal. But she was desperate. She begged. She got onto her knees in front of the man and she begged. "Please! You can have everything you want and still let her go free."
Below, the pyre was earning its name—it caught fire from the torches that the Guards held it it.
"A glimpse into your own morality, does tend to make one rather less eager to hurry others to their own doom." The Cardinal murmured slowly. "I'm not a cruel man—just a practical one." He looked down at Athos. "What do you propose?"
Athos quickly spat out her idea, and the Cardinal agreed. She wasn't sure how Ninon would, but hopefully, having her life would down-swing the righteous anger.
"Stop!" Athos all but flew down that steps into the yard, the others on her heels. "The sentence is commuted! Cardinal's orders!"
They shoved the Guards aside and started to toss the burning bundles away. "Ninon!" Athos leapt heedlessly onto the pyre and slashed the ropes that held her fast. The woman in her arms, she leapt to the ground.
Ninon held her fast. "I'm not to die today?" she cried.
"Not today!" Athos swore.
Ninon pulled minimally from her hold and grasped Aramis' hand. "You're God did not abandon me after all."
Aramis gripped in back in reassurance, before Athos led the saved woman away from what had almost been her death pyre.
A deal had been struck on Ninon's behalf.
Officially, as far as the world would be concerned, the Comtesse had died on the pyre that day. Her lands, property and money forfeit to the state. The Cardinal allowed her a small income to live a quiet life somewhere outside of Paris. And on the terms that if she try and tell the truth of these events, her original sentence would be reinstated.
She had no other choice but to agree.
Before Athos lead her away from the other's once more, this time for the last time, she stopped in front of Aramis, and much like the Spaniard had done to her, she clasped the Musketeer's fingers around the returned Cross. "Take it, my friend. May it bring you as much luck as it did me."
Aramis put the chain over her head, and felt the Cross settle over her chest, her heart. She didn't realize how much she'd felt its loss until she had it back, the fear, that had Ninon's death sentence gone through, she'd never have gotten it back.
In a discreet road outside of Paris, the rain made light by the thick canopy overhead, Athos bid her final farewell to Ninon.
"What will you do now?" Athos asked.
"I was thinking of opening a school for the daughters of the poor." Ninon replied. "As I told the Cardinal: my voice will never be silenced; but I believe I shall enjoy being a teacher."
"Madame de la Chapelle," Athos started, she had been fighting with asking, but she needed to know. She was embarrassed by how she had acted during the trial, but was unable to change what had occurred. Thinking was hard to come straight when Anne was involved. "Did she ever tell you anything about herself?"
"Very little." She admitted. "She visited me in my cell."
"She did?" Athos straightened.
Ninon nodded. "She's the one that broke your heart."
Athos' expression was tight and her gaze stared over the blonde's shoulder at her awaiting cart. "I wish I could say in another life, in another time."
Ninon reached up and cupped her cheek gently and the Musketeer let her. "Watch out of her, Athos. She is dangerous and cunning. She has the Cardinal's protection. And seeks to harm you in anyway she can. Her heart is poison and I fear she will do irreparable harm before she is finished."
"She stole my heart and murdered my brother." Athos replied. "What more could she do?"
"More. So much more." Ninon gasped, shaking her head, worry swimming in her gaze. "You are not of yourself, Athos. You have people who care for you deeply, and you them. You are not impervious—you cannot be."
"I can handle her." Athos swore.
Ninon sighed and gaze at the blue-eyed soldier for a long moment. She had said her piece, there wasn't much more she could do. "Just be careful." She whispered, and leaned up onto her toes and kissed the other woman, long and lasting.
Athos let herself fall into the warmth against her lips, the feel of the other woman's cloaked body pressed firmly against hers. Ninon sighed sadly as she pulled from the kiss, but not the woman. "I could have loved someone like you."
"If circumstance were different, perhaps." Athos agreed.
"Mmm." Ninon stepped away from her. "You would make a very interesting man, did you know that?"
"Coincidently," she wryly, walking the woman over to the cart, "you're not the first to say. Though, I'm starting to think I should take offence. It's not usually something a woman enjoys to hear."
"But you are not a usual woman." Ninon chuckled lightly as Athos helped her onto the front bench of the cart, and the Musketeer stepped back as the driver whipped the horse into action and the cart lurched to a start. Ninon looked back over her shoulder for a long moment before turning front.
Athos sighed as she stared after the woman long after the cart disappeared around the bend in the road a ways down. She lifted her hat and ran her fingers through her long straight locks.
It was just another thing Anne seemed to have stolen away from her. A chance.
Would she forever suffer? she wondered. Would there be no end? But there would be, at the foregone conclusion of their deaths. Even if Anne got her wish—Athos' death—Athos didn't think she would find the happiness she thought she would. And Athos, having thought her former lover dead already for the last five-years, had been in a constant turmoil and ache—one that had not changed, but intensified since that night at the chateau when she discovered Anne's life upon trying to murder her in revenge.
Athos still didn't know what Anne's means-to-an-end were, but she could only hope with not much credence, that her sisters and brother wouldn't be caught in the crosshairs. Wishful thinking on her part—naive—for already her brother was entangled with a woman he knew no substance of, caught in her twisted games of revenge—neither would know, until perhaps too late.
d'Artagnan was sitting at the kitchen table in the Bonacieux residence when Fleur burst in and flung herself into Constance's arms. After all that had happened to the young girl, her father planed to marry her off to a forty-year-old widower who owned a butchers stall, apparently a rather great "catch". But it seemed, since now and than, Robert had changed his mind—and was even willing to let Fleur continue her education. The young girl was of the belief that before her departure, Ninon had spoken with the man, but d'Artagnan knew instantly from Constance's too-bright smile towards the girl as she explained this theory, that it was Constance who had convinced Robert.
"Well, I'm glad that Robert had a change of heart on the matter." Constance told d'Artagnan after Fleur left just as fast as she had come, the smile dropping from her face as she turned to the sink and window. She didn't see the harm in letting the girl have the belief that it was Ninon, her hero, who had convinced her father.
His fingers drummed on the clothed tabletop as he shook her head and said gently, "It was you who went to Baudin, not Ninon." Constance didn't reply, and he stood, stepped towards her turned back. "You pleaded for Fleur."
"I don't know what you're talking about." She denied.
He smiled and chuckled. "You are the finest woman I've ever met. I don't believe there's a more generous soul in all of France."
Constance turned and stepped to him. "Stop that." And she put her fingers over his lips, stopping more words from flowing out those beautiful receptacles. He reached up and delicately took her finger, pulling her hand away but keeping a hold of the limb, moving his hand so he caressed it. "You're embarrassing me." She whispered.
His brown eyes refused to release her. "And what if I want to embarrass you?" he whispered.
"Hmm." She blinked, distracted by the soft circles the pad of his thumb was rubbing on her palm.
d'Artagnan played with her fingers, gulping, suddenly shy. "Why... Why shouldn't I tell you that I love you?"
"d'Artagnan—" she shook her head.
"No." He ploughed on, "I admire and respect you, Constance. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life."
"Say that again." She gasped.
"Um..."
"The first part, you idiot." She said, too enthralled to roll her eyes.
He swallowed, and his look was so intent, so passionate. "I love you." And then his brows did that little flicker thing, and suddenly they were kissing, desperate. He pushed her back against the sink, food and dishes clattered to the floor. Their actions were heated as they attempted to undress each other. This wasn't the first time that they had kissed, but it was the first real time they had kissed. She was a married woman, but she wouldn't be the first to step out on a loveless marriage. "Oh, God. I love you!" he gasped against her lips. He didn't want to ever have to let her go. To do so, would tear his heart from his chest.
the M~U~S~K~E~T~E~E~R~S - S~R~E~E~T~E~K~S~U~M eht
So, I decided to keep Ninon a woman, because I thought that the jealousy of Milady might be more felt if Athos started to connect with a woman, when Milady was the only one she'd ever been with. And I thought that with Ninon as a woman, her and Athos would be able to say those truthful things to one another more bluntly.
y