A/N: My apologies for the extremely long wait everyone. My grandpa was in the hospital for a while there, so I wasn't really up to writing which made this chapter impossible to finish. And when he finally came home, I got sick, so there was a spell there where I was, again, unwilling to write. Not to mention I'm busy with last minute projects for my last week of Winter classes. But anyways, on to the thank you's. Thanks to: .o0Aurelie0o., The Almighty Cheez It, nehimasgift, san01, Skavnema, the. dead. addict., LandUnderWave, katrin4p, xflint, Gueneviere, Silver Tears 11, marauder'sbabe, Lolaleddir, libaka, Autumn's-Smile, siriushermionelover, The daughter of Slytherin, Insane But Cute, o0Dreamer0o, and echo9821.
Chapter 33 - Die With Honor
"He's awoken!" Mary screamed as she burst into Hermione's room. "The King has awoken. The Duke and Duchess are awaiting you and Aramis so that they can go in and talk with him."
Hermione got up off her chair so quickly that it almost toppled as she discarded her book to the floor and clumsily rushed to the door. She led the way to the King's room, Mary jogging behind her to keep up. When the two got there, Rodden and Rodmilla were waiting outside the room.
"Why are we wa-," Hermione began, but never got to finish that sentence as footsteps approached. She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Tom and was rather annoyed and disappointed to see Porthos and his father, the General. "What are they doing here?" Hermione grumbled.
"We're here because we have a right, as protectors of the crown, to assure ourselves that the King is all right. Not to mention, since our loyalty and integrity were put into question by yourself and Aramis, we have a right to be here to defend ourselves and make sure that we're given a fair chance," the General explained somewhat rudely.
More footsteps sounded in the corridor as the four fell silent, Hermione glowering in the direction of Porthos and Mardon. Janessa and Tom came into view from the other end of the corridor. Riddle stopped beside his soon-to-be wife and looked to the castle's owners. The Duke knocked and a nurse opened the door only enough to peer out.
"We've come to see his majesty," Rodmilla informed.
"I can't allow all of you to come in at once. That would be too much excitement for him in one sitting," the nurse objected as she looked among the six who waited outside the door.
"Aramis and Porthos shall wait, then," Hermione informed. "With myself to defend Aramis should any suspicions arise, and the General to be Porthos' defense. The Duke and Duchess should both be allowed to enter as it is their abode we're in."
The nurse nodded, but the Duchess brought up an objection.
"Is it wise to leave these two in the corridor without watch?" she inquired, gesturing to the two younger men.
"I assure you, Duchess Rodmilla, that I shall not harm hide nor hair on Porthos' head until the duel later," Tom spoke regally as he nodded assurance to her. That said, Rodden ushered the Duchess and Hermione into the King's quarters, the General following him after giving Riddle a revolted grimace.
"I hope you've said a good, memorable farewell to your bride-to-be," Porthos muttered once the door was shut.
"Why would I? You're the one going to die," Tom shrugged simply.
"It's a shame that you should choose to fool yourself in such a manner," the blond continued with a sneer. "Denying your eminent death will only make it that much worse when it does come."
"You, Prat-thos, should take your own advice," Riddle added while looking lazily from Porthos to the left at the end of the corridor.
"My advice is that you'll either hang for treason to the King, or by my own doing," the blue-eyed boy remarked in a snide fashion.
"The only one who is going to hang for treason will be you… and probably the General, too."
Meanwhile, inside the room, Hermione stood back with the Duchess holding her by the shoulders as the Duke stood to the left of them. The General stood a few feet to the right, his eyes intently staring at the King who was being tended to by a nurse.
"I believe he's ready for any questions you may pose, but please try and keep him calm," the aide advised as she rose from the bed's edge and crossed the room to clean up the mess of water basins, medicinal instruments, and such.
"How are you feeling, old fellow?" asked Rodden.
"Better… better than this morning. Where's Ana?" the King responded.
"Right here," Rodmilla answered, giving Hermione a little shove forward. She frowned uncomfortably, almost reluctant to get near the man because of the way she had found him that morning. Swallowing back her fear, she took a seat on the edge of the bed and took the King's clammy left hand into her own two delicate, pale ones. She forced a smile and spoke up.
"Can... can you tell us what happened to you, Father?" she questioned. "Tell us what led up to Aramis and myself finding you like you were this morning. What is the last thing that you remember?" There was a pause as the King stared at her. His eyes seemed to be searching her face for something only he knew the purpose of. She stared back, her own eyes pleading him to tell them that it was Porthos he last saw, and Porthos who had given him the poisoned glass. With a sigh, the King laid his head back so that he was staring at the canopy of his large bed. He drew a rasping breath and looked back at his supposed daughter.
"The last thing I remember was falling asleep after talking with you and Aramis, Ana," he explained, his eyes never leaving hers. He looked as though he were in a trance as he continued. "I remember the two of you arguing about whether you really wanted to go through with your engagement and marriage. You left me and didn't return for some time so I went to sleep, figuring that you would be back in the morning. I woke feeling parched and drank from the glass and pitcher that had been sitting upon the nightstand," he finished, gesturing to the cherry wood stand that was to the right of his bed.
"You don't remember anyone coming into the room after Aramis and I?" Hermione asked almost frantically.
"No, Ana, I don't," the King replied.
"But you must," she pleaded, squeezing his hand. "I don't even recall there being a glass and pitcher on the nightstand when I came in to talk to you."
"Ana, please, don't excite him," the Duke began.
"You say that Aramis and I left the room and didn't come back, correct?" The King nodded while the Duke and Duchess exchanged worried glances. Mardon, however, was smirking as though in triumph. "Okay, then," Hermione breathed. "We never came back until this morning; he just proved that. And when we did come back, we found him already poisoned, so that proves it couldn't have been Aramis and I."
"Wrong," the General spoke up sternly. "That only proves that you didn't return while the King was awake. Who's to say you didn't return after he was asleep, place the poisoned glass, and then left until this morning when you could be sure that he had been done in?"
"Rubbish!" Hermione cried as she rose from the bed hysterically.
"I can't allow you to stay if this is going to be the result. I told you that you'll have to keep things calm," the nurse commanded.
"E-enough!" the King tried to bellow, which only sent the man into a coughing fit. "My… my daughter would never do me harm…. She's in no hurry to take the throne, so she would never try to do away with me."
"Maybe she wouldn't," Mardon argued, "but what about her fiancé, Aramis? He seems rather eager to take the throne, doesn't he?"
"You get more and more preposterous with each accusation you make! Aramis loves me and would never harm my father because he knows that it would bring sorrow to me," Hermione pointed out.
"Or so you think!" the General continued to fight.
"I say, you're out of line there. Yelling at the Princess. You're sworn to protect her and her father, not argue and accuse her of trying to do her father ill-being," the Duke interrupted.
"There's no real way to tell who's guilty here," Rodmilla spoke wisely, walking over to Hermione to place a hand on her shoulder for comfort. "All we're going to be doing is pointing fingers at one another because it's one party's word against another…. For now, all we can do is double security on the King and allow no one into his room without guard."
"You have to believe that Aramis and I are telling the truth," the younger woman pleaded as she turned back to the King. "You know we wouldn't harm you. You most of all know that neither of us are truly ready or even sure about taking the throne, so why would either of us want you gone?"
"I know, Ana, I know," he sighed as the nurse pushed the party from the room.
Tom was right there when Hermione emerged. He saw the troubled look in her eyes as she walked up to him, and he wished that he could remove the doubt and hurt that filled her as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Riddle fixed Mardon and Porthos with a fierce stare as they walked away, both glancing back with equal dislike.
"Tom, you mustn't go… please!" Hermione pleaded as she followed him down a corridor of the Duke's castle, tugging at his sleeve cuffs.
"Hermione, c'mon… nothing will happen. I'm just going to go out there and give that prat what he has coming to him," he huffed in exhaustion as he turned and looked at her with dwindling patience.
"But what if he has something up his sleeve that you don't know about? What if he has some kind of stake-out like they did in the woods?" she pointed out.
"You forget so easily that I'm a-," he stopped as a door down the hall opened and the Duke emerged.
"Duke Rodden," Hermione called. He turned to face them and smiled, or at least gave a weak attempt at a smile. He approached slowly, in a more than tired manner.
"Shall I walk you down, Aramis?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.
"But… you… you can't," she cried. "You must tell him that this is nonsense and that he's not to go. He should just let Porthos wait outside all night long like a fool."
"I'm afraid that's not my decision, Ana," Rodden sighed as he and Tom turned away from her to start down the corridor.
"You're being foolish!" she called, rooted to the spot with desperation and confusion on what to do next.
"Give me a moment with her," Riddle muttered before turning around and walking back to her. He pulled her into a nearby room, its contents nothing more than some very dusty old furniture, among it a baby's crib. It could have only been the room that had been set aside for the arrival of Rodden and Rodmilla's once expected children. Grabbing Hermione firmly by her elbows, Tom looked into her eyes with such a serious, but expressionless face that her protests became lodged in her throat. "I'm a wizard… the greatest there will ever be, in fact, and I'm more than capable of beating some moronic little Muggle soldier boy. Besides, I've never backed down from a challenge, and I won't start now, especially when my integrity, pride, and sense of self are on the line."
"But they don't know you as Tom Riddle. Porthos isn't challenging Tom Marvolo Riddle. He thinks he's challenging Aramis, a boy from the eighteenth century whose missing in search of the real Princess Anastasia. So what does your integrity and pride and sense of self have to do with it?" Hermione beseeched.
"It's a matter of more than just a name, Granger. Porthos was issuing his contest to me, whether he knew I was really Aramis or not. This is something I have to do... especially if we face being stuck here for the rest of our lives; I won't be known as a coward then."
She could make no more argument as he turned, opened the door, and left. The door closed softly of its own accord as she looked around the room and sighed. If she couldn't persuade him, then she would at least be there to make sure nothing went wrong. Leaving the room, Hermione feared she might be late when she noticed they weren't in the corridor any longer. Rushing down to the entrance hall, her fears were calmed a bit when she saw that Duchess Rodmilla had stalled them. She, too, was giving protests of the situation, causing the Duke to quarrel with her on the matter.
"It doesn't matter, Rodmilla; it's not our choi-"
"Anastasia!" she exclaimed as she saw Hermione heading towards Tom to tell him she would be there to support him. "You must forbid them. As Princess you might have some right to-"
"She has none, and you know that," the Duke interrupted.
"But you must tell him he can't d-," his wife continued to bicker hysterically, but she was once more interrupted; this time by Hermione.
"I'm sorry, Duchess Rodmilla, but I can do nothing except offer my support to Aramis. He feels that he has to do this," she spoke softly as she looked to him, "and as the girl who loves him, I wish to see him fulfill his whims and find completion in his life. If this is what he has to do to satisfy himself, then I will stand by him, albeit reluctantly and with fear and worry for him, but I'll stand by him nonetheless." Silence followed Hermione's speech. Riddle took her hand in his, and the two of them accompanied by the Duke walked outside. The sun was well on its way to disappearing completely, and the sky was a bloody red; an omen that all felt held no favor for one of the young men about to duel.
"Anastasia, you cannot go out there!" the Duchess shouted from the entrance hall. "Your father surely wouldn't want you to witness such an event."
"Rodmilla, please," her husband barked. "She has expressed her wish to stand beside Aramis, and that we will let her do. She has a right as his fiancé and the one who was supporting him through today's earlier dispute to be there during the duel." The Duchess made no more moves to stop them, but her sobs could be heard as Mary and Janessa took her off to her room before she fainted.
Meanwhile, Hermione's stomach was twisting itself into knots, and she kept looking to her sleeve where her wand was stashed. She would be ready to aide Riddle this time should any foul play arise. From the corner of his eye, Tom could see her worried face bowed towards the ground, her eyes following their every step. He felt as though he were an executioner walking her to the gallows for a hanging. They were to the edge of the woods within minutes, their silence a constant, unbroken fear until they heard Porthos begin to call his taunts to Tom.
"You're late! Having second thoughts?" he bellowed as he slipped dark brown, leather gloves onto his hands. The General was standing with him, quiet and looking almost disapproving.
"Let's just finish this gents," the Duke frowned as he walked up to the stable boy and inspected both pistols that were laying on the silver platter the boy was holding. When he seemed satisfied, he turned and walked back towards Hermione whose face was creased with lines of worry as she frowned deeply.
"Please," she whispered to Tom who just shook his head and caressed her cheek with his thumb. It was a rough sort of feeling, and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was about to take place.
Riddle turned, about to approach Porthos who stood next to the stable boy with Mardon behind the two of them, but Hermione grabbed his wrist. He rounded back to her, and she stood on tip toe to place a quick, gentle kiss on his lips. Running his fingers through her curls when she pulled back, he felt that he had to show Porthos no mercy. Tom raised Hermione's chin as she tried to bow her head and hide her scared expression, her eyes still pleading with him to say no to Porthos and head back to the castle.
"I won't lose," he spoke softly so that only they could hear.
"C'mon!" Porthos groaned impatiently. "You've had all day to bid her farewell. Now it's time you face up to things like a man."
Turning towards the jeering, Riddle's eyes narrowed as he felt a deep-seated hatred towards the blond-haired boy. Walking over, Tom grabbed the nearest of the pistols off the tray and sneered.
"I believe you both know the rules here," Mardon spoke nonchalantly. "Take your pistols and stand back to back."
Porthos took the remaining pistol from the tray, and the stable boy took a step back. Riddle glared at his opponent, reluctant to be the first to turn away from the untrustworthy pair of the General and his son. Shrugging as though to show he were fearless of Tom, the blond-haired boy turned around and pretended to examine his gun as he waited for Riddle to follow suit. Keeping his eye loosely on Porthos, he turned, their backs barely touching as only their jackets scarcely brushed the other.
Hermione felt her stomach clenching tighter as Tom shot her a glance from the corner of her eye. She crossed her arms over her midsection and used her left hand to push at her wand that was up her right sleeve. The wooden instruments slid slowly down the underside of her forearm until the tip rested between her thumb and index finger. As both boys held their heads high, Mardon pulled his own pistol from his belt. Hermione eyed him nervously, her chocolate orbs bouncing back and forth from the pair who were about to duel to Mardon as he spoke.
"You both have six rounds in your pistols. To prove that they both work, fire a shot towards the west now."
Tom raised the pistol in his right hand towards the sunset. He looked down his arm, weighing the gun in his mind. It was heavier than he had anticipated, the handle within his grip bulky and awkward. Riddle then let his gaze move to Porthos' left arm which held out his own pistol to the sunset as well.
"Fire!" yelled Mardon, and both pulled their triggers, Porthos' gun firing a few seconds before Tom's. "Now that you see that both are in working condition, put your guns back to your sides…. When I fire my pistol, you will take exactly ten paces, turn, and fire."
Hermione felt desperate to stop this now. She turned to Duke Rodden and gave a beseeching look.
"Please stop this. You have the power to refuse to let this go on," she murmured. "This is your castle, and you can refuse to let this happen on your grounds."
"But it is their duel, their quarrel. I haven't the right to intervene there," he denied as he reached out and put an arm around her. She remained a moment, watching as the General raised his firearm into the air. She flinched when the round was fired, and the first of the steps were taken.
"One!" counted Mardon loudly.
Hermione turned away for a second, the Duke releasing his hold on her.
"Two!"
Tom felt the urge to turn and fire his gun burning within his limbs, but he pushed it down; that would make him look like a coward to shoot Porthos in the back, so he wouldn't even consider it.
"Three!"
Feeling that she needed to do something, Hermione thought frantically about the possibilities she had before her. She could do something to Porthos' gun so that it would backfire, or just not shoot at all.
"Four!"
But Tom would be furious with her if he found out, and he most certainly would figure out that she had done something since both guns were in working order.
"Five!" Mardon bellowed, half finished counting.
Tom kept his eyes straight ahead, his palms beginning to sweat with an odd eagerness and nervousness.
"Six!"
'Four more paces. Keep your mind clear and on the task!' Tom scolded himself.
"Seven!"
'Three more paces!' Hermione thought frenetically. 'There must be something I can do. Think!'
"Eight!" Mardon yelled, his eyes fixated on his son who seemed like he was in an odd trance as he stepped in time with his father's counting. "Nine!"
Hermione felt sick now, and her legs were weak. Would Tom survive this time if he were shot again? Would Porthos be as bad a shot as the assassins in the woods? She knew now that there was nothing she could really do besides be the support Tom needed.
"Ten!"
Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Both boys whipped around, their guns firing simultaneously. Hermione collapsed to the ground as no more shots were heard. She hadn't time to see what happened as Duke Rodden rushed to her side and blocked her view. Her hearing was strangely muffled, and everything seemed to be in slow motion. What had happened?