Chapter 5: Saintly
So happy to get this out of the way :) I think I'll treat myself to ice cream and a movie for finishing this tonight. Thank you all so much for reading so far and hope the work I produce is hope to people's expectations. If not speak up. Read and review! :)
Disclaimer: In no shape or form do I own The Three Musketeers franchise in media or copyrights. Do have though a paid copy of the movie which is a delight to watch over and over for the story lol Dialogue is soooo much fun to work with.
The flurry of maiden skirts rushed past the drawn curtains. Morning glow averted from window to window, chasing down the scurrying maid. Her hands ran faster than her feet. The sun and the woman stopped the chase upon the woman opening the door and quickly disappearing.
Unsatisfied, sun beams poured on the adjacent window, looking into the distressed maid attending a sitting damsel, arms caressing a book by her sofa. The Comtesse eyed lazily at the short of breath maid with a few strands out of place in her bun. She fixed the askew lapel and apron.
The laid back Comtesse earmarked the page she left before putting it back in it's place on the bookcase. She gestured for the maid to sit by her vanity. Antoinette glanced in the mirror at the nervous maid. She fingered the wrinkles on her skirt, shaking. Almost as if she were bursting at the seams.
"What is it?" she asked anxious for news.
Her long awaited exasperation puffed out of her lungs. "My lady! My lady, the Queen wishes to speak with you," Her hands covered her mouth to control her breathing once more.
Antoinette quirked an eyebrow. She opened her mouth before setting her eyebrows furrowed. She glanced at the vanity. Many glass vials of perfume and eau de fleurs sat along the mirror wall with the cosmetics. In the middle of it all was an hald opened portrait locket with a silohette made three years prior. Her manicured fingertips traced the gold edges and then the shadowy marks of a man.
Her eyes lit up in excitement. She hurried away from her vanity, too happy to conceal her excitement.
"Perhaps it's about my request to leave the palace. Aha! Today's the day, Millie," she said running back and forth from her drawers to her closet pulling out fabrics and shoes all around. None seemed good enough except for the green velvet with lace around the bodice and a brown belt embellishment round her slim waist.
"Today's the day I'll see my Aramis," She hugged the fabric to herself. Antoinette hurried to the changing room and immeditaley switched the two outfits without a moment to lose.
"Most glad for yourself, my lady. Shall I pack some things for you?" In all her giddiness she forgot about packing some things. She pulled the strings tightly around her back as she appeared before Millie picking up the discarded clothing all over.
"Yes, yes. Thank you Millie!" she cried leaving the room in a short burst of energy. Her legs kept up as fast as her skirts allowed her. She took a sharp corner just within the reach of the Queen's chambers when she roughly bumped into someone.
Spotless clothing but the one wrinkle she disturbed, the weary eyed Captain Rochefort gleamed a mewl of irritation. Antoinette fixed her ruffled appearance taking one step back. Rochefort's left hand hovered over his sword with proximity that of a sly cat.
His gruff voice sent shivers to her. "Is it proper to be running around the Queen's wing recklessly?" his voice trembled over his emphasis.
"No, Monsier Rochefort," Her eyes narrowed to the floor silently cursing his name in her mind.
He growled, "On your way," His stealth allowed him to exit the vicinity before Antoinette could unhold the her biting tongue. She resumed, at the proper pace, to the Queen's double entrance doors with two footmen guarding for protection.
She cleared her throat when she knocked courteously on the door. She counted five seconds before a small feminine voice called.
"Entre," She grinned. The Queen has been paying attention to the language more. On the rare occasion she used a mingle or German, French and or Italian to murmur her frustrations as Queen. All of which Antoinette studied, but French was her native and the Queen's sovergn language.
The Queen sat at a table for two with a tea tray cart to the side. Her gaze shifted from the window to her cup. two ladies in waiting were summoned elsewhere in her chambers, leaving Antoinette and the Queen alone.
Her Majesty's hair was brushed out and curled up as she wore it often. Her peach and golden threaded dress seemed tanned compared to her flushed skin. Only the pale roses on her cheeks stood out with any color. Even her frail eyelashes with kohl grayed in the sunlit window.
"Your Majesty," She curtsied.
Her chest heaved off the stone she burdened at the sight of her lady-in-waiting. "My dear friend, Antoinette. How many times have I told you to call me Anne?" Her smile outshone the glow of the sun.
"Once more I'm afraid," She welcomed herself to the empty seat and boiling cup of tea provided. Antoinette's lips had chapped too many times when it came to tea time that she accustomed the development of smoldering hot tea without a sore or shrunken bruise. "You requested my presence?" Her delight in her tea honeyed her words.
The Queen's cup was empty with not a single drop left. Closer inspection gave way to her cup was dry, clearly not used. "Could you be a dear and helped me with my tea?" she asked sweetly.
"Yes, Your Majesty- Anne," she faltered her correction. "One lump or two?" She tried hiding away the embarrassment.
Another sigh came from the Queen. Her jewel dripped hand covered a cheek in sadness. Her leaning figure towards the sun, outstretched not particularly caring about tea.
"Might as well be two. Two teaspoons of milk if you please," she whispered light as air. The diamonds on her hand sparkled, nearly taking out Antoinette's left eye. Her hand tipped the kettle, pouring the tea and followed the instructions from the Queen exactly so.
Antoinette filled the gap of silence makign casual conversation other than tea noises. "Your Majesty seems distressed?"
She folded her hands in her lap looking like a guilty child rather than a ruling monarch. "Wooing the King and him to me is too much to bear. He doesn't seem interested. My fantasy of an arranged marriage has been bound on solid gold hoop," She gestured to the extraordinary diamond band the King gifted to her when she was still in Austria, awaiting pending news on the betrothal.
She eyed the cup for any deformities before handing the cup to the Queen. Her gold spoon spun around the liquid, releasing a ball of steam out of the way.
"Has he ever joined Your Ladyship in the gardens? At the dinner table?" she wondered.
The cup tested on her lips. She blew the crisp steam once more before tasting it. Her lips pursed from sudden heat clenching her teeth. Her jaw, aggravated, settled to it's alignment.
"He says the sun is too frail on him. The only time we speak to each other is when we dine. Even then, it isn't enough," Her eyes cast low to the cup's rim. a finger traced the outer edges and the swirling patterns around it. "Always something or someone to attend to,"
Antoinette felt horrible for the misunderstood Anne. Her heart was in the right place: to love France and all she had to offer. But with that came a price. Politics. A place no woman felt entirely comforted. She felt indifferent to the Queen's usual chippery behavior. After spending a year at court, now tended to be the worst depression in her moods.
"Have you talked to the Cardinal about his schedule?" Antoinette offered grazing her lips back to her cup.
She shook her head. "I am not afraid. Only cautious. Cardinal has every right to nulify the marriage without reason. Might be what is best, but I wouldn't. Not for the sake of France at it's ends," Her eyes squinted unlady-like. Tear ducts wallowed in her wake. Antoinette set the cup back to its tray before patting the Queen's right hand, on top of the band she pushed further up.
"France admires your bravery," Her comfort words did little to lift her spirits. The Queen looked away ashamed of her emotions getting the better of her.
"What bravery? The only thing I've done for her people is to marry a king who wishes me away," Her voice stuttered with pity. She swallowed down the tough piece of biscuit the cooks laid out. The burnt edges crumbled to the plate in agony. The Queen napkined her face before resuming back to her normal features.
"But, enough of my troubles. I summoned you here for a special gift," Her eyes still with sorrow did not match the king smile she gave.
Antoinette waited for this moment, but felt this wasn't the right mind set for the Queen to bestow her grant to leave her in a moment of despair. "I don't require gifts, Anne. Your companionship over the year has been most welcoming and aiding," she downplayed the rising emotion she fled to come here.
A soft giggle emerged. "Thought you might say that. But in this case, it was most imperative you receive this one," From the foldings of her skirts was a folded and ribboned red parchment scroll consisting of the signet of the Cardinal. It was handed to Antoinette.
"The Cardinal's seal?" she muttered to herself, unscrolling the piece of paper. She read aloud, "Who so bears this letter has the utmost right and privilege to come and go as pleased in the estate,"
The Queen laughed to herself at Antoinette's msot shocked surprise. Never in her waiting she dreamt of the Cardinal signing of upon his word her arrival and departure. If anything she would have word from the Queen. But even then would be risky going and coming. her hands dared not crush the paper as she read over the sweetened words of her rescue.
"Cardinal signed two for me," She replied. "One intented for Lady Constance, who delivers some of the local French groceries and crafts I do enjoy and the other to Lady Annamaria whose father is gravely ill," Her voice insinuated mischief underneath her sweet demeanor.
She cocked her head. "But we don't have a Lady Annamaria,"
A sly smile crept its way on the Queen's face. "Cardinal doesn't need to know everything of my services. This is your permission to leave the palace starting today," she said watching with amusement of Antoinette's explosion of emotions.
She asked curiously in her inner delusional happiness, "You are sending me away,"
"Not forever," she said folding another napkin on her lap. "But I do think more than two week's time maybe be a small penance for a year's separation," Her kindness expressed on her face and onto the proof of paper.
Astonished, it was high time for her away from court. At the other side of that coin, Antoinette had made shelter with the Queen. They had both had reserved feelings against the Cardinal and his guards. They both loved France and the culture. And as of lately had become a confidant above everything else. Her genuine smile felt small to the gift bestowed.
"I do not know what to say, Anne,"
Her smile played a little. "A thank you should suffice," She erupted in laughter.
Immeditaley she hastened out her thanks. "Yes, a thousand blessings to you. Your kindness is above and beyond," Both women stood up to hug the other. Antoinette's gaze turned to the sun. She now understood why the Queen stared long at the sun but did not feel it's warmth. She was waiting to share it with someone. With the Queen's blessing, she could soak the sun with her Aramis.
"Of course, my dear. One of us should be happy," She looked towards the windowed sun. "Now, go pack your things. I expect Aramis is waiting for you,"
Antoinette didn't need another word to send her off.
It was by chance Antoinette caught one of last cartwagons delivering food in the district the Musketeers lived. The maid, Millie, helped with half of the suitcases leaving the rest of the rushed packing up to Antoinette. With the surge of hope lifting her heart, the dreadful task of packing or lugging them out the palace wasn't as bad as she believed it.
Her distraction of imagining the old Aramis into the present. What had he done? Was he down? Had he left her for someone else? His last letter was months ago. Though it was in length enough for three scrolls, she couldn't shake the anxiety of meeting him again. She had written often. Most of her allowance was spent in postage and inkwell.
"Nearly there?" The burly taximan asked. His horse, worn thin, stomped past the ground like a proud trooper in the last minutes of battle. She sat besides the man with her luggage besides the seasoned fruits. The smell of fresh apples and pears speared through the aroma of her perfume, giving her a natural essence.
She gestured past the narrow ways. "Just around the bend and down the street. Second to the left,"
The man followed the directions with little to difficulty. HIs experience of guiding carts made executed turns and near to death stops in traffic. The horse stopped his momentum at the shabby home with a rusty balcony barely used and a rooftop in dear need of tarring for the next winter.
She pulled her coin purse and handed him 15 francs for the man's trouble. And ten sous for a couple apples. The man checked the gold and silver coins, testing each with a crook of his teeth. Satisfied with the authencity, he smiled toothily at her.
"God bless you, Madame!"
Her smile returned as she helped herself to grabbing a few green and golden apples. Both of which are Aramis and Athos' favorite. Porthos would eat anything and the stubby man who ran the place as a serf...
"Good lady! You are back! Such a treat," the high-toned Planchet rang in her ears.
...well, he would take anything.
His long stringy hair matted at his cherub face. His rotund figure stumbled over the front porch to shake the lady's hand vigorously. Antoinette smiled to see a friendly face.
"It is nice to see you again, Planchet," she said holding the apples by the apron of her skirt, keeping them from bruising. "Could you help me bring some of my things for me?" she asked sweetly wanting the man and his horse with goodies to go on their way to sell in the afternoon heat.
He nodded. "Happy to oblige, miss!" He picked up the travel case and struggled to not shake the arm from sudden weight. As she walked into the house, the smell of raw and overcooked meats overwhelmed her. She stood on the threshold looking at the mess around the fireplace and the table with stains and cups about. Bottles of wine scattered on the floor with flies lodging inside for the last tasty morsel.
"Ugh, still the same pigsty I remember," she patted the A frame ceiling to the cooking area. Bubbling pots and pans of grey sludge toppled over to the floor. She half expected the wood beneath to disapparate.
The heaving Planchet with all five suit cases on his arms, back, and one on slung around his neck trudged in. He marched through and set one down on the seat cushion feeling instantly relieved from the lightened load.
"Least... the smell... has improved," he wheezed.
She tsked at the state. It was even worse upstairs to their rooms no doubt. She cringed at the thought of entering Porthos' lair of a room. Last time she barged in without permission, he was half way devouring one woman and another across the wall waiting for the next turn. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she promised herself never to go there again.
The olfactory sense worked over again. Something tinged the smell in a much worse factor. Her eyes watered. "Unfortunately it's odorous as sour red tomatoes. Thank you, Planchet," she said pinching her nose as he unloaded the cases.
"Oof! No worries here!" he said.
She ran up the stairs trying to drive the smell of the kitchen out of her nose. The first door on the left was hers and Aramis'. Antoinette opened the door to reveal the cozy one bed, two bed tables with two facing desks for their own studies and work. Except her half of the room was cleaned away without a speck of dust.
She smiled hestiantly. Aramis never did like the dust. Upset my allergies. she thought as she trailed her hands over her desk. The only presentable object was an inkwell and feather on top of parchment.
A simple sigh filled her half. Aramis' things could easily take up the luxury of the other room but he decided years ago she deserved the same amount of space as he had. Thoughtful and generous. The few good habits he picked up from the church.
"So empty without my things in place," she murmured. Feeling the sad feeling of homesick, she needed a better impression. And the first things first before unpacking would be to spruce up the place. A part of a welcome home gesture on her part.
She treaded down the stairs to see Planchet stirring the boiling pot. The pot hissed in return and snapped at his fingers. He waved them furiously as he muttered incoherent French.
"Well, this house won't simply do. I'll shall have to waste a day cleaning it. Where are the boys anyway, Planchet?" she announced starting to clear off the used dishes to the pump water sink for thorough rinsing and scrubbing.
He counted off, "Doing what they do best. Athos hangs around the tavern drinking his sorrows away. Porthos has found himself a new mistress,"
Over her shoulders she asked, "I bet her purses are spent on him?" Remembering his old antics were tricks and trades up his sleeevs.
Planchet excalimed, "With a new wardrobe and everything!" Planchet came from nothing. Poor just like the rest of them. Originally he was found in the streets delivering dairy goods to the market. However the boys needed an innkeeper from when they were away. Who better than a country bum who would work for minimum wage? As much as they roughly treated him, he knew his masters could have been a lot crueler.
"Where is Aramis?" she asked finally.
"He's a inspector for the city. Writes little sigh-tastions," he mumbled lastly, too dumbfounded to remember the word Aramis taught him.
"I believe you mean citations?" she extended the word to him.
Planchet snapped his fingers in recognition. "Yeah, that!"
She wiped the daps of water off her hand with a towel when the dishes were cleaned off. Antoinette summoned her hair into an elegant bun as she glanced at the disarray left in the kitchen and dining room. A puff of exasperation and the rolling of her sleeves, and she was off to work.
"I'll clean the kitchen and Aramis' room," she ordered. "You clean the other two and the balcony. It's a bit rusty and splotchy,"
He saluted off. "'Course Madame!"
Antoinette admired her handiwork as she leaned on the mop with a foot. The table was polished off. Wine bottles were thrown out. The strange odor had shifted to the garabage outside. She lit a candle on the table and started to rearrange the fireplace. Antoinette brushed off the ashes, cleaned the poker, washed the few linens scattered, and unpacked her belongings all within the hour and half.
"Couldn't be any cleaner," she unraveled the apron round her waist and discarded her cleaning tools and apron in the closet. "Planchet, I'm going out to find Aramis!" she called after heading towards the door.
"Yes, miss!" His voice reverbrated off the walls. "Whoaaa!" The crash of liquid, wooden bucket and person collided above her. She winced at the commotion.
She called concerned, "What was that?"
"Don't worry!" His aches masked in his shaky voice. "The bucket cushioned my fall!"
She waited a few moments at the groans helet out weezingly. "Alright," She lifted an eyebrow and left the house. Her mind was nowhere on finding Athos or Porthos. She avoided the streets with taverns and apparel store fronts. That would be the last place to go to.
Antoinette searched with single intention for Aramis.
The near to noon heat built up from her wanderings. She swore she traveled in a complete circle, passing carts and carriages thrice. Antoinette huffed in annoyance as she leaned to a vacant cart with nothing but dust piling up. Her elbow leaned on the frame for some support. Her exhaustion left her irritated, hungry, and restless. After this waiting she had to wait a little more?
She supposed waiting was a game she was not use to. Antoinette wanted things her way and in record time. Haste makes waste. Not that this trip around town was a waste. Just exhausting to hunt down one man in all of Paris.
"A full hour and no sign of him," Her hand covered her eyes from the beating sun. "I'm getting as close to him as I was at the palace," she murmured surely that the people passing by her thought her crazy to see her alone with only an empty caravan for comfort.
Gravel was thrown by the boot of her shoe in aggravation. In her mind she drew a map of Paris with basic block formations of the city walls. She dug in deeper to the alleyways and narrow passages that surrounded the roads. Calculating in her head, she had guessed she was a mile away from her original starting position. If she paced herself evenly at a slight running walk, she would make it in time to the home in half an hour.
She moved from her spot to resume her trip home when a throat cleared behind her. She sighed as she turned about.
"Excuse me, miss? Is this your cart?" the low voice emitted. The click of ink on short paper rippled. Her face squinted to see a man garbed in professional black attire: jacket and breeches. His face was too low to recognize as he was a few feet away for judgement. "Leaving animals unattended and roaming around is prohibited in the city. I'm afraid I'll have to leave you with a citation," He ripped something from the pad and handed it out to her.
She interrupted, "No, this is not my cart-" Her hesitation noticeable when she stepped closer. There, in the sunlight shining above them, in casual occurence was a would-be priest with dark hair and a thin moustache that seemed to bejust as smooth as his hair.
"Aramis?" she wondered out loud.
The man stopped his writing another note on the citation when he heard his name. He turned his head in all directions for the voice until he narrowed it to her eyes. The paper in his hands fluttered away in the wind with fresh ink spilt. He scrambled to put away his things and took two giant steps. His placing stopped just in front of her. He craned his neck low to identify with his eyes.
Both of their breaths hitched in recognition. Slowly he withdrew, "Antoinette? Is it really you?"
She let go of the aching built in her chest as the tears began to flow. She caught her hand to her mouth in surprise of her sudden outburst.
"Yes," She said embracing him into a hug.
His arms twined around her being, feeling the dull warmth that hugged her curves gently. Antoinette let her head barely brush the nook between his neck and shoulder to breath in his earthly scent and the faint aroma of late night wine he devulged time from time. Her hands furrowed into the jacket, clinging onto the lfie of him.
His shaky hand petted down her head, relieved to imagine the silkly curls hitting his hand everytime rather than dreaming of it.
"I thought you had forgotten me," he kissed her neck tenderly. "I wrote to you but no word back,"
She lifted her head away. "What? I did write to you. Lengthy pages in scrolls. How did-," Remembering the long scrolls she put so much thought to before handing them off to a page.
Aramis had his suspicions. "Richelieu,"
A dark storm cloud set over her features. Aramis had thought overwise to anger her. Of course it would had to be the Cardinal. Her mind darkened. Richelieu had always been the pit of the problem, but she never forgot who swung the pendulum.
"Don't forget his half-ass sidekicks Rochefort and Jussac," she muttered coherently.
Aramistraced his thumb down the side of her cheek. Paled skin met his semi-year round tan he procurred over the years. The marketplace had lengthened in persons, but he paid them no mind. Her dark mood did not swirl similiar effects he had. He smashed whatever hatred climbing up to focus on what was more important.
"Never mind them," he told her. "I'm not thinking about kissing them," He captured her lips ina frenzy of emotions. Sweetness at long last tasted on her mouth. The sun kissed the top of their heads and intwined hands. She pulled apart long enough to close her eyes and rest her forehead against his. There little intimate moment seemed to be too private for public and so onlookers fled the scene.
"We've been apart too long," he whispered his breath.
She rolled her eyes to the side, still managing to not smile like a fool. The playful cat inside of her clawed out. "You off duty?" she purred with lust in her eyes.
He threw aside the citation as if garbage. "Consider it an early lunch break," he said dragging the both of them privately to a shadowed alleyway. She giggled at his rash thinking as he caressed her body.
After the dozenth time fixing her skirts from Aramis' greedy hand after their repartee, she swatted his hand. Antoinette kept his hand at bay on her arm to lead her down the streets.
"An inspector?" she asked incredulously.
He told her, "It was either that or sewage manager. I already have to deal with living with Planchet as it is," Their march through the streets were lazy and unneeded to be as haste as the dealers around them. Why should they rush? They had all the time in the world to worry about wasting time, together.
She patted his leather covered chest. "Oh, don't be so hard on him, Aramis. He means well," she insisted.
He shook his head profusedly disagreeing with her. "Not when it comes to burning the stove and setting the curtains on fire," Antoinette winced. It was something Planchet was good at- making a mess out of nothing. "Good gracious, we've missed your woman's touch about the place," He hugged his arms around her shoulders.
She laughed mercifully. "Your in luck. Unless Planchet lighted a fire with the water bucket, the house is in pristine order," Her head tilted to kiss the side of his cheek to his jaw bone.
"Delightful," he said indifferently. His fingers wrapped around hers, twitching. An old habit he had acquired upon sensitive topics. Antoinette grasped them gently, urging him to continue. "How was life in the palace?" He came about.
Antoinette's knees seized up momentarily. She coughed swallowing air down the wrong pipe. Her hand flew to her chest to calm herself. Aramis took no notice of her antics.
"Constricting," she found the word. Antoinette loosened the conversation to other factors. She did not need to tell Aramis her worries from the palace. He already had enough on his plate to deal with than her dealings. "I believe I've lost five pounds from carrying so much clothing," she joked twirling a side for emphasis.
He murmured to agree. His eyes had the pleasure of wandering back to her figure, which had only changed slightly since the last time he had seen it. "Definitely around your legs,"
She caught her breath. "Are you insisting I had fat legs?" Her eyes narrowed murderously at Aramis.
He did not catch his mistake but did think it wise to change topics once more. "No, but I don't complain of your generous bosom," he laugehd at ease. Antoinette let go of his hand to drift two paces to the side. A pout of disapproval made her lover laugh more.
"Such indeceny before noon," she chided the ex-priest.
"You live for it,"
"You crave my attention,"
He countered, adjusting a firm grip around her hip bone, "Only when it matters, which is all the time," Surely she should find bruises underneath the clothing come morning time.
A sigh of exhaustion escaped from Antoinette. Never in her dreams there first reunion would be one of sexual frustration. She had imagined the way it started but with changes to the scenery to a garden at moonlight- Aramis' favored time of the day.
Two finger rubbes her headache. "I think we've been deprived for so long the banter between us never ends," Her eyes drooped.
With no sensitivity he ran along, "I'm a man with needs. And those needs have been dormant for a year," His remindment only brought her mood swinging rapantly.
"I have needs to, you know," she bellowed.
He stopped alongside the fruit stands and balanced an apple along his arm without glancing at it for reassurance. His confidance the apple wouldn't drop amazed her. "Yes, but yours are controllable and mine are needier," He replaced the apple to it's spot on the stand before the vender noticed a part of his stock missing without payment.
"Typical male response," She furrowed her brow. Her hands rested along his upper arm, feeling the muscles underneath bulge. "So Mr. City Inspector, what do you plan on doing tonight,"
Antoinette had in mind a bottle of the wine the Queen had sent along with her. Twenty years vintage and one of her favorites. Alongside she would accompany the bottle with Aramis' dish of riverfish from the fish market with homemade tartar seeing as it was Lent and a Friday. She internally made note not to let Planchet out of her sight when she left the food or kitchen unattended.
"Attending to our needs," Antoinette lifted her head up in curiosity.
Her hand turned, palm upside. "I meant for dinner,"
He whispered back to her ear, "Can't we skip to dessert?"
"Before mass?" she bellowed.
He groaned at the reminder. His hand hit the wall they occupied. The faint smell of hay, bowel movements, and other odors infiltrated their noses. However living in Paris had it's adavatages such as high tolerance for smells. The bridge above them quieted but not enough for Antoinette to listen. She had thought she heard, "You're right,"
Quietly laughing, she lift a hand to the ear and called, "Pardon, I have a bit of trouble hearing,"
"You're right," He kissed her in his arms. He hugged her tightly as they proceeded to walk the rest of the way. Her giggles were efficently proving to be the pivot Aramis needed to have his way with her in all ways than one. She escaped another enjoyable kiss to joust him with wordplay.
"Glad you come to your senses," She smield affectionately. Aramis crooked his head over to the outdoor stable for passengers to leave their horses for nearby business. His eyes seemed transfixed to the pile of dung left behind by a black and white spotted horse. If not closely inspected it coudl have been mistaken for a cow.
Aramis left her side and retrieved the pad from inside his leather coat to the creature. The saddle has been worn out and used roughly. Not much was on the horse, indicating the rider had not very much on his person. "Aramis?"
He extracted a writing utensil. "Duty calls," he said not bothering to look up as he inspected the 'crime'. "And from the smell of it too," Aramis crinkled his nose in disgust.
"The exciting life of a Musketeer turned renegade," Her eyes bored from his new job. Nothing thrilled his eyes as he wrote upon the ticket. His hand wrote for him, not the other way it would have been had it been a sword in his hand.
"Not my first choice," His eyes pointed. The ticket ripped from the citation notepad. He tucked the ticket to the saddle just as a man- or well a grown up boy walked around the corner. Aramis took the hand of his lady and motioned to be on their way.
A nearby voice of a man- boy- cried in utterance. "What the hell? 5 francs? Hey! Hey!"
Aramis turned the both of them around to see a country boy with a feathered hat, wearing thin boots, and simple peasantry clothes. His gloved hands clutched the citation.
"Oh dear, an unsatisfying customer. However will you fight them off now?" she told him as the boy stepped closer to them. HIs hair was brown and strands were down to his shoulders. His face seemed handsome enough but nothing particularly standing out to Antoinette as she tucked her arm to the side.
"Don't patronize me," he said.
The boy handed out the ticket in outrage. "What is this?" he demanded.
"It's a citation," Aramis said. The boy eyed him weirdly. "It's a ticket," Aramis offered a short unfriendly smile. "Failure to remove animal bowel movements from public area," he explained. His eyes gestured to the slanted writing below.
The boy, still not understanding, said, "French,"
Aramis sighed, his lady next to him muffled her giggles. "Your horse took a dump on the street," Another non-friendly smile appeared and disappeared on the spot. Antoinette eyed the boy's reaction, unbelieving of the ticket.
"You're joking," the boy said. He looked towards the beautiful lady at his side for help but his gaze unwavered.
Aramsi tucked an arm around Antoinette possessively. "That's what they all say," he repeated his line.
The stranger huffed in anger. "You know what?" He crumbled the ticket single handedly and threw it against Aramis's chest. It pitifully rebounded down to the ground. The boy pointed towards Aramis. "Cooper's Yard, St. Germain, 2:00," he instructed as he stormed off without a chance to respond.
Antoinette leaned her head over Aramis' figure studying the stance the boy obtained.
"Strange boy," he said walking away.
"I like him," she admitted daringly. Aramis sharpened his glare at her. "Bold, dashing. Could be a mini-Porthos for all we know," She said dropping her head on his shoulder lovingly to appease him.
Aramis rolled his eyes. "In that case, an arrest should have been made,"
Antoinette waited outside the home while Aramis grabbed his sword and feathered hat. She smiled as not too far away was a gentle giant with a single gold hoop in his ear. He brought home bundles of wrapped clothing along with a very dignified and dashing cane. He dropped the parcels on the ground with the cane leanign against a post to hug a willing, laughing Antoinette.
His bear-like arms crushed her against their ribs. A pop from her back brought her instant relief. Most likely from wearing too many straightening corsets.
"Little lamb has wandering back to her shepherd," he said. His head turned behind her in jovial manner at Aramis. His hand held the top of the sheathed sword and the other holding the hat to his head.
"Porthos," she tipped her head.
Porthos stepped back suddenly with a hand over his wounded heart. He shivered. "So cold, what do they make you do in the palace? Freeze the Cardinal's shriveled heart?"
She laughed coldly, "Just about, old friend," Antoinette hid her bitter resentment into Aramis' covered shoulder. Her head dipped down as her hand self consciously waved down the strand of hair in her face.
Porthos whistled at Antoinette. She twirled under his guidance. "Look at the three of us? Spiffed up with nowhere to go!" he said dully.
Aramis, not one for frivolty such as his amused friend twirling his passion, said deadpanned, "Athos has called for us as seconds in a duel,"
Antoinette stopped her flutterering. She scoffed, "Without me? Shame on him," Wagging a finger at a pretend Athos made of air and dust billowing from trotting animals.
He eased his hands over the tips of her shoulders. "They'll be no fighting for you today, love," he settled. Her annoyance groaned as she kicked a rock out of place like a child. She sighed flirtatiously walking to the front door step. Her eyes blinked innocently as her hand traced the doorway.
"Then I'll let the bottle of the Queen's reserved wine she lent me go to waste to Planchet," she said cupping her hand to mouth to call for the serf.
A great commotion came from Porthos' new cane, rebounding off the pavement to roll to Aramis' feet. His jaw clenched. "Filthy indiscretion!" he yelled throwing his hands up. "Aramis, hold your tongue in front of this lovely creature," he bated his anger to Aramis, whom had nothing changed upon Porthos' mood.
He scuttled out a tsk towards Antoinette who batted her doe eyes. "Devious. Playing the Porthos-wine card,"
Her posture leaned upon the door, arms behind her back. "Just as bad as using the sexist comment card," She smirked.
In a bundle, Porthos gathered the tiny woman into his great arms again. This time he petted her head and bellowed fake non-existent tears down his mopy face.
"Oh how the year dragged on without you!" he complained.
At precisely noon, the trio of misfortunate individuals, dressed for success, approached the continued construction in the St. Germain district in Cooper's Yard. Foundation of stone and concrete in brick formation stood against a wall for drying before slabbing them on to the frame. The wooden frame looked to be either another bank or barracks for the Cardinal's guards to occupy.
Athos preffered a tavern. Aramis suggested a little monastery open to the public. Porthos, being Porthos, wanted a brothel filled with the finest women from all over Europe stocked in a single housing. Antoinette neither cared nor paid attention to the men taking small breaks for eating or playing dice games with wage slips betted on the table.
The construction took up the whole left side of Cooper's Yard. Surrounding the yard were two stories tall connecting buildings for homes and live in workshops for apprentices. In the midde of it all was the same young man eating an apple at ease, spitting out a seed upon meeting the man he had first quarrled with- Athos.
Antoinette noticed his pulled back hair all these years had done nothing when the swords came out. After months of begging prior he relinquished a quick trim, taking years off his scruffy appearance. Athos studied his opponent, sword eagerly resting in his hand on the blade on his shoulder.
"So, are you eager to meet your maker?" They heard Athos ask the boy.
The boy stood in perfect posture, but with sketchy footing. Clearly his youth did not teach him to steady the blade with his balance. Or perhaps he minded the lesson.
"I'm afraid I have other appointments," he shrugged, taking off the hat and coat. His freed attire laid waste in a bundle behind him.
"You'll miss them, I'm afraid,"
"Well, I'll try my best to be on time," He looked curiously at the three people- two men and a woman- standing not too far from Athos. Aramis hitched a leg onto a laying barrel. Porthos stood to the side and Antoinette cocked her head forward with cunning stealth. The young boy did not know the others knew the concealed weapons of choice she hid under her clothing for her own protection and advantage. The curl of a smile began in the uppermost left hand corner.
"My seconds," Athos gestured.
Antoinette flashed a sincere smile in his direction. He welcomed her a nod in return.
"You!" Porthos sneered. "You're fighting this rascal?"
"My appointments," the boy pointed a sword to each. "1:00," Porthos. "2:00," Aramis. "Maybe 3:00," he smirked to the disgusted Antoinette. Aramis motioned to grab his sword, had it not been Antoinette to stop his actions. She glared at the boy as she pushed the semi-sheathed sword down his belt loop.
"Ease off," She said not taking her eyes off the incredibly brave but dumb boy in her path. The stranger should count the stars for luck, for fortune happened to save him once. Antoinette sighed internally. Fortune won't be as kind to save him thrice more.
Athos questioned, "How long have you been in Paris?"
"Arrived this morning," he answered fingering the blade back to his shoulder.
Without a moment of hilarity Athos regained, :You have been busy,"
She whispered connivingly to Porthos, "He gets around quicker than any of the brothels," Porthos grumbled under his breath.
The boy played around with the tasseled handle. "Patience is not one of my virtures,"
Porthos interrupted, "Neither are good manners,"
The young man turned curtly towards Porthos. "Wait for your turn, old man,"
He returned his scornful laugh. "What would you like me to put on your headstone? 'Little shit'?" He asked furiously.
"D'Artagnan," he gave away.
"D'Artagnan," Athos repeated. Each Musketeer looked at each other for any recognition of the name. Antoinette stuided the boy with the proud name once more. She tasted his name in her mind for a trace. No country boy bore a strong name that fit the streets of Paris as well as D'Artagnan.
"I'm Athos. This is Porthos, Aramis, and Antoinette. Aramis' lover," he introduced one by one. His smirk turned upright when D'Artagnan's eyes wandered over Antoinette and then to her murderous lover.
His jaw opened then closed. "The Three Musketeers," he breathed.
She stepped forth to D'Artagnan. She laughed humorlessly at his expression and the dropping of his sword into the ground. "Yet you've managed to piss everyone one of them off,"
"I've heard of you," he strung together. "From my father, a Musketeer himself. In fact, I came to Paris to be one of you," His arrogance peacocked out much to Antoinette's displeasure. He already acted like one, might as well let the boy suffer the consequences.
Aramis glared. "I'm afraid you're a little late," Syallables bounced off the end of each word.
"What happened?" His face furrowed.
Athos deeply regretted ever meeting the boy. Instead of allowing his inhibitions drown back at the tavern, he slurred his way to battle. Now his unwanning memories of year past came back.
"Oh, a bad mission. Budget cuts. Cardinal, progress. Take your pick," The group hunched back to each deteriating factor to break them at sharp corners.
Aramis broke the silence. "Well then, welcome to Paris. Pity we'll have to kill you," His short smile returned. Antoinette sat on an unopened barrel as D'Artagnan contemplated his choices. She folded her hands like the way his mind replayed his offers. As much as innocent blood shouldn't be bled over three- well technically four if you counted the other offense to Aramis- seperate disputes, his arrogance the boy fueled would get the best of him one day.
Shame he'll not live to see that day.
He sighed in disappointment. "Well, if I can't become a Musketeer, I might as well fight one. Or three," His sword pointed at Athos. Porthos laughed half-heartedly at the naivity of the boy and the lack of self esteem he didn't show.
"Kill him already. It's lunchtime and I'm starving," he remarked the time.
Athos, more than happy to oblige, withdrew the sword hung around the belt hoop. Both men waved the swords across the hair as a signal of respect and commencement to duel.
Antoinette squirmed in her seat when the ground underneath her roused. She glanced at the ground for any indents or if perhaps Porthos was stomping his foot in his impatience. She listened intently for a sound.
Thundering of weapons and footsteps were approaching nearer and nearer. But nowhere in her line of sight did she see such a thing. Her eyes glanced to her side at Aramis.
Athos barely brushed the sword, in stance, when the duel intervened at the wrong time and the wrong person.
"Halt!" Commander Jussac called, grinning at the catch of the day- three ex-Musketeers, a lady-in-waiting-who-wasn't-waiting, and a newcomer embraced in heartbeats away from a bloody mess. What a group he caught.
For here and out is the following scenes from the movie. No I'm not writing the extra scenes about the Cardinal and Milady. Though they had significant value to the plot, it's a waste since most of the story is sort of in Antoinette's perspective. However to fully understand the story, watching the movie would be beneficial in case I forget a detail or don't explain on a certain subject.
Now taking requests for new stories! Have a favorite book/movie/etc.? Send a message and I'll see what I can do about it. :)