Chapter 8: Once Promising

Me: Oh yay! Another fun filled chapter!

Porthos: With me!

Me: Partially.

Porthos: Aww... will I be featured in the next one?

Me: Dude, you're in the ENTIRE movie.

Porthos: Oh... right!

Athos: Can we get on with it?

Me: Hmm, cranky inside and outside of the movie. Who would have thought?

Aramis: I did.

Fangirls: EEEEEPP!

-Aramis vanishes-

Fangirls: Awww...

Me: -throws D'Artagnan in-

Fangirls: EEEEEPP! -tackles D'Artagnan-

Me: Hehehehehe, I'm evil! Onto the disclaimer!

Porthos: Ooooh! I'll do it! Radiolover1029 does not own any of the Three Musketeers, or D'Artagnan or Milady or Cardinal or-

Athos: They get it! Just read on!

Me: Shall I throw you in next?

Athos: -gulp- No, I'm fine.

Me: Thought so.

Antoinette hurried with a purpose. The traveling case occupied in one hand with a flurry of skirts in the other, her pace wasn't as rushed she desired. The weight of the case slowed her down. A sheet of sweat started to form around her hairline down to her forehead. It was a miracle that she passed by security inspecting the food delivery carts through the back kitchen doors. Another miracle to have barely met any soldiers or guards wandering about. Though she assumed guards weren't meant to be posted in the servants quarters.

Passing a marbled post, she caught her breath behind it, looking over her shoulder casually for any suspicious activity. Her breath hitched in her lungs as she spotted one lone guard patrolling perpendicular to the hallway she had to next pass. She counted the number of seconds the guard took within each turn and down each segment of the hallway. If she paced it right and walked silently, she could possibly make it through the hallway and then hurry to the next pillar by the time he made a quick check on the other halls.

Antoinette tucked an arm under the case and stood by the edge of the wall. She counted his way to the other side before stepping in the crossway. Without checking her surroundings, she rushed to the other side.

Sanctuary she mentally huffed upon reaching her door.

Constance wore a mix of teal and aquamarine dress with lacing around neckline. Blonde hair splayed upwards with pale blue flowers woven around a red beaded band. She took her walk down the corridors at leisure pace. That was until an emerald green clad dressed figure bumped into her around a sharp corner.

"Whoa there!" she startled.

Antoinette, a little shooken up, grasped her heart heavily. "You gave me a fright, Constance. What news of the guards?" She caught her breath with the price of a side stitch.

Used to Antoinette's shanninagans, she reported, "Cardinal sent Jussac on raids to find you yesterday obviously. He's been searching the whole palace,"

Checked all the rooms, including the Constance's. As if she would stowaway Antoinette. Though her friend, Constance would not be the first hiding spot choice.

"And the Queen?"

Constance fixed the few strands astray on Antoinette. She re-curled them. "She excused you for a sudden illness and you needed your rest,"

Antoinette splashed a hand to her face, waffing the air around her. "Cardinal isn't gullible to believe that. But he wouldn't defy the Queen in public."

Constance stopped her hands. "There's one more thing," Her hesitation twirled Antoinette about.

"Yes?"

Constance shuffled a step forward then back, anxious to tell. But also in fear. Antoinette wasn't herself this morning, and who would know how she would react. "Earlier Jussac led some men to the towns to summon the Musketeers. They are to be punished by the King himself,"

Antoinette gapped her mouth open. Her back kissed the wall roughly. The top of her head bounced at the smooth texture. There was no way she did not think of the repercussions. From her own excitement and without the necessary execution of her actions, she might as well deliver the Musketeers to the guillotine.

Eyes closed, heart slowed for a moment. Constance watched as she deeply breathed in and out. Aramis. She needed to warn Aramis and the others. But how? Antoinette had not a friend nor acquaintance other than Constance and the...

A faint idea brimmed to her conscious. It was risky and to bring it up would be deterimental. She had helped so much. To ask for her counsel again?

No, she needed to. She puckered her lips in determination.

"We must hurry to the Queen now," she said grabbing the confused Constance down the halls, minding the empty wallways with not a guard in sight.

Luck be with us now. She prayed.

"Did you hear about the quarrel yesterday?" Lady Elisabeth asked.

Her companion, Lady Marabelle, gossiped, "Oh yes, in fact I heard the odds were horrendous! Such injuries bestowed on the 40 men present," Her gestures over told the story to the point of no return.

The old maiden, Duchessina Genevieve scolded, "No! I heard it was more than 40 from Lord Piper! Apparently a few rascals joined in the fight and plunged men to their deaths!"

"Perhaps it was 400 men then!" Lady Marabelle, a young fawn in a man's world, recollected.

From the sofa, Constance and Antoinette clinked their tea cups together in annoyance. Antoinette had to go from Aramis' side to the tedious life in court. Gossip about this, tattle to whom, and at the end of the day watch a lady verbally rip apart another's words.

She whispered to Constance, listening on it too, "It was 5 against 50 if you counted myself and Rochefort's guards. Where do they get this information?" she asked incredulous.

Constance replied to the slander, "From the mouths of tattle tales," Her voice was drowned by the peckering of ladies out speaking one another to claim the latest scoop. It was the breakfast tea time before luncheon. Antoinette had swore herself to stop her addiction to the Austrian flavors three months ago due to an empty shipment of it. Now it was back to boring, flavorless, black tea from the mountain ranges of northeastern France. Just past the border of Lorraine.

She said from the rim of the cup, "Should we set the record straight?"

Constance patted her lips with a napkin. "Let them blabber. The more outrageous, the more it'll attract the Queen's attention,"

If there was anything Antoinette could do in her power, it was start a rouse. Involving Queen Anne might save the men's skins from the dangers of Richelieu and his lackey Rochefort. At the moment, the Queen had took her time dressing herself instead of her many awaiting laides. If be, Antoinette could plant the seed in the Queen's mind when she arrives- though she might have to scratch pass the flock of gossiping goslings ready to chew her ear off.

"There she is," Constance said. Antoinette nodded. The Queen emerged from her private chambers. The ladies silenced theirselves to clean up the tea and set the curtains drawn.

"What have I heard?" the Queen demanded. Her corset was properly done up but she still wasn't decent enough to go out in public. "Men fighting in Paris with the Cardinal's guards? Lady Elisabeth?" she questioned.

Said lady, bit her lip. "Your Majesty, you heard correctly,"

She moved down the line to the stiff upper lift duchess. "When? Duchessina Genevieve?"

"Your Majesty," Her curtsy deepened. "Yesterday afternoon,"

She confirmed, "The men identified as the brave and bold King's guards? Musketeers. Comtesse Antoinette?" She glanced to Antoinette. Her mouth dryed. The Comtesse opened her mouth only to stop. To the front entrance she heard a struggling servant's stutters and a mewling growl. The irritated prepetraitor demanded the man to step aside. The occupants of the room hastened to listen.

"Open up, you fool! Your Majesty!" The twinge of breaking French met Antoinette's hears like cat screeches.

"Pass," she ordered, just as irritated as the man who entered through. A servant ushered out of the way as Jussac stomped through. He bowed his head.

"Forgive my intrusion, Your Majesty. I only wish to inform you of a warrant on one of your lady-in-waiting's heads. Her appearance hasn't been seen since only yesterday morning," he sped through his words with a gesture to the warrant another guard held upright.

The Queen dared the men to come forth. Ladies protected the Queen's side- a natural reaction to hearing demands from the guards. Antoinette huddled to Constance's side as sly as a cat.

"I believe the warrant you are looking for is here," She waved for Constance to move. Antoinette stepped into view. Jussac did not notice her until he was forced to.

"Your Maj- You," His eyes held murderous thoughts only Antoinette could tell of. His gloved left hand itched to touch the sword around his belt to slay her on spot.

Queen Anne commented, "Comtesse de Chevreuse has been ill with head trauma. I bade her leave from yesterday's excursions," She covered her tracks for Antoinette.

"Your Majesty, I-"

"Do you question your Queen's authority, Guard Jussac?" Her eyes alit like burning Austrian wine.

Jussac sighed defiantly. "No, must have been a phantom I had seen of her Ladyship's image on the streets of Paris," he said underneath the vice-like words.

The Queen joked, "I recommend seeing a physician," She looked to the oncoming guards. A look to begone. They scattered with Jussac. He bowed out like the rest of them before angrily throwing away the warrant in the Queen's trash can.

Constance nudged Antoinette in success. As victorious as she felt, the moment passed too soon. She had only realized there was much to be done if she were to remain at Aramis' side and the Musketeers safe and well once more.

The Queen smiled to the two of the three chattering ladies. "Baroness Marabelle and Duchessina Genevieve, would be so kind to fill the vases in my chambers with fresh flowers out on the terrace?" The curtsies were short as they gathered their supplies and out of the Queen's hall. Antoinette wanted to turn away with Constance, when Anne requested, "Your record, Antoinette?"

Antoinette replied, hands behind her back, "Your Majesty. The three Musketeers and an acquaintance battle forty of guards in Cooper's Yard off of St. Germain. So I am told," She averted her eyes.

Anne established understanding of the situation. Her eyes flickered to Constance who remained silent as the grave. "And you were there to witness this Lady Constance? 4 against 40?"

"Yes, Your Grace,"

"What of their reward?" Her questions, much easier to say than hear from another's mouth. Antoinette swallowed the lump in her throat.

"No reward, Your Majesty. Only the King's delivered punishment," The familiar tightening in her chest wasn't from the new corset Constance straightened on her figure.

"No merit? I suspect the Cardinal had a word with the King. Ladies, prepare yourselves. A walk is necessary I believe," The room moved like a ballet. With graceful motions but with every move was an emotion. Some of the serfs were whimsical to receive orders. Other ladies dreaded to stretch their limbs. For Antoinette, however, she wished to panic at will and rush downstairs without duties holding her back.

"Not you Comtesse Antoinette," The Queen held her wrist affectionately. She smiled eye to eye at the lady. She lowered her voice after pulling her aside from the beautiful chaos in her chambers. Something heavy and golden was handed to her. The Queen's bracelet. A symbol of devotion and protection. The Comtesse eyed her.

She explained attentively, "I want you to stroll ahead to the King and the Musketeers. Delay if needed. Take this. The guards won't give you any trouble,"

Her appreciation could not be put into lyrics of a poem or words or a story. Her expression was enough to satisfy the Queen. Helping hands with another eased her. Dulled the home ache of her land. Attending to the others like Antoinette made her stay in Paris less of a job and more of a responsibility she enjoyed.

Her eyes glistened. The Queen secretly fastened the chain around her wrist. "Thank you, Anne,"

The Queen's smile lifted the weight against her heart- the burden on her shoulders. She played the role of Atlas to hold down the fort while letting Antoinette roam wild to the palace. Now with Jussac off her back, it was one less worry to carefully plan her risky moves. No more breathing down the Cardinal's guard's necks in order to move a pace ahead.

"Now go. Save them," she hoped.

With that, Antoinette flew.

All was left up to Antoinette once again for the third time that day to match her pace to a racing horse. Her heart beat furiously against her ribcage. The dull ache from yesterday returned, searing tender wounds.

A hand crawled up to the smoothed walls while the other coiled across her waist. She hunched back in pain. The only push that kept her forward was to save her friends from the Cardinal's hand through his puppet, the King.

With that in mind, she pushed off the wall. The clinking of the bracelet chain announced her presence walking down the flights of stairs. Under the arch and a set of steps were four kneeling men in single line formation awaiting the guards, a robed and grinning Cardinal, and the young King. What separated her from all of them were two armed soldiers draped in royal blue with unyielding stances. She eyed the both of them up before taking a descending step closer.

One of them crooked his neck and threatened the spear he held. "You can't pass when the King is present," He muffled through his chainmail.

Antoinette cocked her hip out, chained hand resting on it. She raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the bracelet. They both looked with interest.

"You'll see to it that I can," she said defiantly. The guards, alarmed, raised their spears back to their post. She smirked. "Alert your guards to escort the Queen her. She's already on her way with only her ladies to attend her," she scolded them for leaving the Queen unprotected.

One looked to another and both of them sent a squadron with to aid the Queen. Antoinette giddily smiled at her performance. Her happiness was short lived when the court pager cleared his throat.

Afraid she was found, she hid by the siding of a stairwell. Just the reach of her head and some of her skirts laid in plain sight. Her gaze fell to the King who marched with dignity.

"His Majesty, the King!"

Never had she had seen such a disgusting shade of vomitting green ensemble on such a noble personnel. Dripped in oozing puke, the King feathered golden button ups and the poofy pantalooms with a slightly less disturbing green tights and buckled polished shoes.

"Well, well, well," The King shook his thick amber burnt hair to the back. He cleared his throat as he motioned from the Musketeers and the Cardinal, whom decided to wear yet again Cardinal red. "Brawling with the Cardinal's guards. That's very bad. What have you got to say for yourselves?"

D'Artagnan, still in the clothes we had worn the day prior, lifted his head out of respect. "We...-"

"-Humbly beg your pardon, Your Majesty," Aramis interrupted. He glared at D'Artagnan for having the nerve to speak out of turn. The rest of the Musketeers easily sighed for the quick decision on Aramis. The King, however, did not seem to care nor notice D'Artagnan's slip up.

"Yes. Yes, I should hope so, too," he said giving off false bravado. "So, tell me, how many were involved in the altercation?"

Porthos bowed his head. "There were four of us against 40 of them, Your Majesty,"

The Cardinal narrowed his eyes. King Louis XIII cocked an eyebrow amused. He chuckled unbelieving, "Four against 40? And you beat them like a drum?"

Richelieu coughed. The King turned to his comrade before facing the Musketeers sternly. Antoinette leaned in attentively.

"And, yes, you shall have to be reprimanded, of course, most harshly I'm afraid. You do understand that, don't you?" The Musketeers nodded. Her heart sped up as Aramis' downcast face awaited for his most severe punishment. Her hand clawed the railing desperately as if it were the King's throat. Such ill will deflected, upon the arrival of the Queen and ladies. Two guards occupied both the front and back of Her Grace.

Queen Anne changed her clothing. Not taking fashion advice from the King or England, she donned an onyx dress with black and gold hemming. As a sign of devotion, an ornate golden cross necklace wrapped around her porcelain, powdered neck. Laid out with lace, her dress jutted out from her shoulders and the back of her neck to create the fan. Her ruffled skirts had tiny sapphire gems placed here and there. Especially attached to the arm sleeves.

"Hem hem," Antoinette turned about startled. She curtised out of habit, though eyes flickered to the debate down below. "What news?" The Queen asked expectedly.

"We do, Your Majesty," Athos' voice rang from behind.

Antoinette sputtered, "In time for punishment," Constance left her eyes to the ground. She watched Antoinette out of character. The upon-acted Comtesse showered in radiance and decorum with the occasional sprinkle of rebellion. Now, with the fact of pain on death, she's as fidgety as a flounder in a netting.

The Queen neither shook her head nor showed any expression on her face. Antoinette finished her straining courtesy and offered back the Queen's bracelet. With her outstretched hand, Antoinette fastened the bracelet on her left wrist. "That simply won't do," Her voice not above a whisper. "Let's see what we could do about that,"

Antoinette took her place to the Queen's right hand side with Constance and the ladies towards the back. Her knees parted to keep her footing on the ground and not in the air. Deep calm breathing didn't abide well with her sides, but she needed them.

"Her Majesty, the Queen!" the castellan cried. The Queen arranged herself to the middle of the flooring with her ladies at the edges. Guards posted theirselves in salute before standing in proper protected stature.

The King, flabbergasted, nervously smoothed out his single curls at both sides. Gloved hands nibbled through his pockets on his green attire.

"Anne," He gulped. "Wha-What a pleasant surprise," His figure, obviously drawn to his Queen, felt best at ease not near her. Antoinette stuided the same affects she known: Sweaty palms, a fluster of the chest, twitchy knees. The tell tale signs that this man did not ignore the Queen. He was too love stricken with her presence.

Antoinette smiled. The Queen had nothing to fear. Still, the Queen managed a pearly smile that could charm anyone.

"My ladies and I wanted to see the valiant Musketeers who stood against the Cardinal's guards," she said eyeing them individually.

"Four against 40?" she said. She glanced at Constance teasingly. "Or was it 400?"

Athos answered on obiedence. "Just 40, Your Majesty. It was an off day,"

The ladies in the back giggled. Antoinette chuckled lightly under her breath. Aramis did not lift his head, but his eyes focused on Antoinette in her radiance. There was something unnerving by the way she had looked. Proper. And not the ragged, swashbuckling lass they had grew accustomed to. With her hair curled to perfection and draping her emerald green covered shoulder, Aramis hitched his breath. He dared to look away.

She belongs here. With all of them. Not with me. He had thought. He cursed his minds with the notion to have thought of it. She was here now to save all of their skins, including hers. Never should have come if it had came to this. His eyes resumed back to the floor.

Antoinette sighed. No matter how hard she had tried to fit in, it was clear to her she did not belong. Not that belonging in the palace suited her. She wanted to explore the world, and not be trapped in a single place with a single purpose. Though she found the Queen's comfort and Constance's friendship delightful, it would not be enough to change her mind.

She wanted new and excitement. Change of pace. Like her mother once dreamt of. She didn't close these thoughts when the King chuckled affectionately at his bride Queen.

"That's my Musketeers for you. By the time they write songs about them, it'll be 4,000," The hall laughed along with him. Richelieu's moustache twitched. If the insolent brat will just hurry along... I have a country to run, not he.

The Queen patted her hands together. "I hope you won't be too harsh with them. After all, boys will be boys," She moved down the line to stop at the newcomer. "You must be D'Artagnan," she addressed. "My lady in waiting has told me about how brave and dashing you were yesterday. But you must try not to be so reckless," Her advice held wisdom and light scolding to the youth.

D'Artagnan replied, "Can't help myself, Your Majesty,"

Impatiently, Cardinal Richelieu reminded the King. "Your Majesty, the culprits,"

"Ah! Yes, yes. Well, stand up then," Each Musketeer had done so with the exception of D'Artagnan. The King patted his chest patiently walking down the line. "Athos. Porthos. Aramis," His Majesty stopped at D'Artagnan, almost appalled at his nature. "Forgive me for saying this D'Artagnan, but you do look a little underdressed,"

Without so much of a warning from Aramis, D'Artagnan ran along his mouth. "My father is a poor man, Your Majesty. A former Musketeer as well. These are the only clothes I have,"

The King stepped back. "Oh, Lord," His eyes widened in fright. As much as Antoinette wanted to roll her eyes, not wasn't the time nor place. She bowed her head down but kept a watchful eye on the King. "We shall have to rectify that. Can't have my Musketeers, or the son of one, looking like tramps," He walked back pointing at the men. "New suits all around, I think. Yes. You'll see to that, Cardinal?" The Cardinal indeed rolled his eyes, but nonetheless remained quiet as his King jabbered. "And,yes, I think a purse of gold for each as a reward for your courage. You'll see to that as well, Cardinal. And, yes, before I forget, no more fighting with His Eminence's guards. Or there'll be none of them left,"

Richelieu intervened, "Your Majesty, might I suggest a more-"

The Queen lifted her chin. "Forgive my impudence, Cardinal, but I doubt the King requires your advice in this matter. After all, they are his Musketeers," The Cardinal stood resilient while the King chose a confused but adoring expression at the Queen. "Might I also remind you that you have not yet sent me those papers I asked for," Her voice steeled assuming her authority. Antoinette smiled at the Queen's progression of standing up for herself and the good of her husband.

Richelieu gripped his hand firmly. "What papers would they be, Your Majesty?" he gritted his teeth.

"Departure for one of my lady-in-waitings. And the foreign policy," she replied stoicly.

He laughed earnestly to himself. "Your Majesty would hardly want to burden herself,"

"On the contrary," she stiffled. "I take a very keen interest in everything that is done in my name as well as my husband's,"

"As Your Majesty pleases," he bowed along with the King. One out of respect, the other in slight defeat. No matter, Cardinal is only tasting the bitter reserve he built up in the dungeons. Antoinette curled her smile. Her eye caught to Aramis, who was trying to concentrate on Their Majesties. It was a losing battle. A flicker of his face eyed a postured Antoinette, leaning towards the Queen's side for support. She could clearly tell his jaw clenched turning face about. She mentally reminded herself to remove the corset sooner than later.

Or he could have the pleasure in doing that himself. She cheekily thought.

"She does," The Queen infiltrated Antoinette's repartee. "Lady Antoinette, would you kindly direct these fine men to the royal tailors?" Anne's eyes held a sense of pride and joy she had never known when she was younger.

Antoinette curtsied. "Your Majesty,"

"Good day, gentlemen," The Queen's horde of ladies followed in her lead out of the grand checkered hall. Soldiers changed their salutes quickly as she approached their way.

The King's wandering eyes did not take much to figure out what he desired. A moment with the Queen at his side. Antoinette skirted to Athos' side, while the King reprimanded himself for catching to stare at her.

"That'll be all. Go on you, rascals," The Musketeers opted for one last bow. "Oh and be there for the parade tomorrow. New suits and all," The King clapped his hand and the trumpets went off with a short bang of the castellan's rod to disengage floor activity.

LIke the sea, Richelieu parted the crowd of men settling over to the King in the opposite direction. Without taking the movement to nod in his direction, Antoinette slyly said, "Good day, Cardinal,"

He stopped right behind her. He hissed, "God will cast a hollow spotlight on you, someday, Lady Antoinette,"

Leaving the last word to her, she added, "I look forward to it," In his fury he rushed up the stairs ordering for his pages to send him something to drink and eat. More than often he cheated and drank forbidden wine and alcohol infused sea bass.

Athos rested at ease. His hand clapped onto Antoinette's forearm in gratitude. "Thank you, Antoinette,"

"I suppose the Cardinal will heave through for sparing you another day," she said staring at his wake. Porthos fixed his crackling knuckles with pleasure. A swift move of breeze and Aramios situated a hand around her waist delitcately.

"It's fortunate you have friends in high places, Aramis," Porthos gestured to Aramis' lover. "New suits and all, he says. Not such a bad fellow, perhaps," At that Athos groaned impetuously. D'Artagnan had neither banter nor motion to add his two sous to the conversation. Instead he took time to study the same doors the Queen and her ladies- Oh. Antoinette smiled.

He has an eye for the beautiful but young Constance.

She wrapped her arm around his. "Come on now, D'Artagnan. Can't be caught by a lady looking like a minnow," she snickered. Aramis growled and D'Artagnan scratched the back of his neck as he ripped his arm away from hers.

Porthos snapped his fingers. "Ooh, do you think the King will allow us to pop into the kitchenette for a bit of trout?"

"Your unfathomed appetite continues to surpass our expectations," Athos reflected walking with the rest to the tailors.