My brother did not permit me to go inside to the trial. I argued vehemently against his order, but this was one of the few times Athos refused to relent and enforced his decision using his position as my elder brother against me. I stayed away, but I vowed due repercussions for this treatment as he walked away from me. There was nothing I could do other than wait. Restlessly pacing, I could count on one hand the number of times I breathed all the while I waited. A crowd gathered in the meantime, the word having spread of a man standing trial for murder. I glowered heatedly at them and resorted to biting my tongue to keep any unladylike language from flying free.
Suddenly the doors burst open and I jolted at the sound, hearing the sounds of a scuffle inside before Porthos himself was dragged into view, restrained by Red Guards who wrestled with him to move. "Porthos!" My unrestrained shriek cut through the air as the horrifying revelation struck me at once. He had been found guilty. Without thinking, I launched myself forwards. "Unhand him! He is innocent! Let him go you beasts!" My tiny fists hammered against one of the guard's, trying to pry his grip away from Porthos as he was forced towards the cart.
"Madeleine, get back!" He tried to send me away, but I continued to beat at the guard, even yanking on their belt to gain a better hold on him. I was able to pull him away as Porthos was practically thrown upon the cart, however the guard I had challenged suddenly turned and backhanded me across the face. Stars burst across my vision which darkened. The blow stunned me, but somehow I managed to maintain my footing as my throbbing vision cleared swiftly.
My mouth stung sharply, and when I ran my tongue over my top lip I felt a gash pooling with blood where there had not been one before. Slowly I turned my head, looking menacingly at the guard who blanched and stepped back from me. Curling my hand into a fist, I swung it with all my might. One strike and the man was down, laid flat at my feet. Another commotion sprung up from behind me, the sound of gunshots ringing in my ears which were already cascading with drums and every jarring, cacophonous sound imaginable. Staggering towards the cart, I intended to reach Porthos before I even deigned to look at what the trouble behind us was. All I knew was that it had distracted the guards, so in my addled mind, I reasoned this to be an excellent time to free Porthos and escape.
Somehow I managed to climb onto the cart, though I had no memory of it. I seemed to flow in and out of consciousness, head ringing all the while as I clasped onto Porthos for balance. Our eyes met. His mouth moved, but no sound came from him. Everything throbbed as I blinked in a daze. His gaze dropped to my mouth, staring at the blood as I managed to exhale a breath. My hands fumbled at his restraints, attempting to untether him but they became clumsy and useless. Next I knew, someone had leaped onto the cart with us, another masked man having driven off the driver.
I do not recollect the blow landing, but I feel quite certain that this masked stranger had grasped me by my hair and rammed my face down upon their knee. If the first blow had not rendered me unconscious, the second most certainty finished the job. For how long I remained unconscious, I could not say. All I knew was that when I began to rise back into sensation, my entire head felt like it had swollen three times its usual size. Someone was calling to me. A warm voice. A familiar voice. Not Athos…Porthos. I groaned softly. "There she is…come on darlin', it's time to wake up."
"Porthos," unable to open my eyes I reached through the dark for him until my fingers brushed against his face. "Are you alright?"
"Don't be worrying about me love, you're the one who's hurting." Hearing him shift his weight, I then felt his arm push itself underneath me to help me sit upright. "Have a drink, might help a bit." The cold rim of a goblet touched my mouth where a watered wine graced itself upon my tongue. I drank in small sips, my head supported by Porthos' large hand until my lashes began to flutter, trying to awaken myself fully.
"I do hurt," I agreed, tentatively touching my head before feeling my face. At least my nose did not feel broken, only sore. "What happened? I cannot remember much, just them dragging you out. Did Athos come?"
"No love, things…have taken a little turn." At this I was finally able to open my eyes only to discover that we were nowhere I recognised. Surrounding us was a large, dark interior of what must have been a once great building built for someone wealthy. Only, it had clearly fallen into some disrepair, and everywhere I looked was an odd assortment of collections and misplaced objects collecting dust. Every window was covered with thick cloths or boarded up, limited the reach of the natural light, meaning that everything was bathed in the amber glow of candlelight. "We're in the Court of Miracles."
"Court of Miracles?" Whatever I had expected, the Court of Miracles had not even been present upon the list of anticipated answers. "Why are we here? How did we get here? Porthos, what happened?" He chuckled at my alarm but hushed me gently, not wanting me to agitate myself and further my injury. I must admit, it hurt to speak with this broken lip. Each word caused a sting.
"Well, after you so valiantly attempted to rescue me yourself," his eyes twinkled at me as I blushed, "some old friends of mine stepped in. You were already in the cart when they took it, so you were swept along for the ride." Putting down the goblet of wine, Porthos began to tilt my head to inspect my injuries, but every movement made my head pulse with discomfort and caused me to wince.
"Ow…ow…ouch!" I smacked at his hand, getting him off me. "Just tell me, how bad is it?"
"Just some bruising and a busted lip. I don't know if it'll scar though, probably will. Those kind of things always leave a mark." Wilting slightly, I cursed inwardly. Perfect. As if my face wasn't already bad enough without adding a scar to the mismatched features I already possessed. "But it'll make you look tough, I'm sure everyone will be impressed when they see it." Porthos hastily tried to reassure me, ruffling my hair as delicately as possible as I glared at him. "Sorry." I sighed heavily. Again I looked around, feeling the mountain of cushions I had been placed upon to rest. There was even a blanket over my legs.
"If you have friends in the Court of Miracles, then does that mean you are familiar with this place?" Changing the subject, I looked again at Porthos who began to rub the back of his neck. It was a sign that he was either uncomfortable, nervous or unwilling to divulge something. Considering my current sorry state, I cared for none of the possible three. I stared at him until he answered.
"Honestly? I grew up here." This came as a surprise, blinking as I drew back slightly to regard Porthos seemingly in a new light. I had never known this about him, he had never given any indication that he had been raised amongst thieves. It did not seem right.
"This is your home?"
"I don't think it was ever rightly home, this place never felt like one. It was just somewhere I could stay after my mother…" when he trailed off I quickly sought to alter the discussion. I knew it was painful for him to discuss his mother, as she had died when he was very young. It was the reason he did not know how old he was, or when his true birthday was. The first time I had heard it, I had started a daily ritual of wishing him many happy returns every day for an entire year. Why? So that for at least one of those days, even if we did not know which one it was, Porthos had been wished well upon his birthday.
"Are we safe here?"
"I won't let anything happen to you, love, don't worry about that." Porthos quickly assured me that he would take care of me, covering my hand with his own which made my hand look like a child's in comparison. Still, I liked how Porthos' hands were always warm. "The king around here is a friend, we were close as kids, and he's given me sanctuary. He won't hurt you, worst that'll happen is someone will try and pick your pocket." Looking down, I searched the lining of my dress before pulling them out, revealing that they were already empty.
"Fortunately, I have nothing of value to steal."
"Only that beautiful smile of yours, darlin'." Unable to help myself, I smiled at the compliment despite knowing that it was only talk. Smiling, however, was still painful. The moment my mouth began to widen a sharp sting tore it back, a fresh bead of blood sliding into my mouth as I hissed. "Ah, sorry. Shouldn't make you smile,"
"Or laugh, whatever you do, please do not make me laugh. I think my head will fall off if you do." Instead, Porthos laughed for me, the sound reverberating around us until he was done. Asking if I was alright to stand, Porthos lifted me effortlessly onto my feet with his hands holding my waist, keeping my steady as I initially swayed. The elevation caused a temporary blackout, everything darkening as my head rolled but I trusted in Porthos, and he did not let me fall. He snatched me against him, one arm curled around my middle as the other once again supported my head.
"Alright love, it's alright, I've got you. Do you want to sit back down?" Blearily I shook my head, already feeling the effects of the disorientation beginning to subside as I brought my brow to rest against Porthos' solid chest. Soft linen pressed against my skin and I distantly recognised that he was no longer wearing his uniform. "Easy, easy…take it slow." Groaning through the thundering in my head, I continued to rest against Porthos until I could feel my own strength returning. A hand was stroking at my hair, gently combing through it as I felt Porthos' chest expand with every breath he took. "It's been a while since we've talked like this." He noted quietly as I began to enjoy the ministrations of his touch. It was unexpectedly soothing.
"I've…been busy, that's all."
"Nah darlin', you've been avoiding me. I know I'm not the brightest of men, but I know when something's wrong," determining that I was now capable of standing without his support, Porthos removed the arm which had been wrapped around my middle so that he could cup my chin and lift my face to look at him. "Tell me what I did."
"You did nothing." This at least was not a lie.
"Then tell me if I said something."
"There is nothing…that is to say…you did not…" all the while I had refrained from looking at Porthos directly, however at that moment Porthos snatched at my chin a little, giving a small tug which was not hurtful, but enough to force my eyes upwards. Under his intense stare, I could not find the words to lie. Yet, I did not want to tell him what I had heard, because I knew he would regret it and feel wholly terrible. In my heart, I knew that neither Porthos and Aramis would never had such those things to be hurtful. They said them because the drink had loosened their tongues, revealing their innermost thoughts which they would otherwise have kept safely locked away. I swallowed back the rock in my throat. "You said nothing that was not true."
"Tell me exactly what I said, Madeleine, because if I said something…" oh glorious salvation, someone cleared their throat to announce their presence and I had never been so grateful for an interruption in all my life. Both our heads turned to find someone standing in the doorway. A comely looking lady with a fair head of hair eyed us curiously, one eyebrow arched in both a suggestive and accusing manner.
"Hungry?" She offered, and I quickly lapped up the opportunity to escape Porthos and his questions.
"Ravenous! Greetings to you, my lady, my name is Madeliene." Stumbling forwards in my haste to put some distance between myself and Porthos, I dipped into a quick curtsey out of pure, ingrained habit. Manners were important when meeting one's host, after all. I made to smile, but of course my cut split open again and stung once again. The woman winced in sympathy.
"I'll see if I can find something for those bruises and that cut. In the meantime, why don't the two of you join me and Charon for food?" Although I had no idea as to who Charon was, I was ready to bless his name too. The woman introduced herself as Flea, which I presumed was not her true Christian name, but I was pleased to make her acquaintance all the same. She led myself and Porthos to what I deduced to be the 'throne' room, as there was a high backed chair with more various assortments of spoils and objects placed around it like tributes. Charon, as it proved, was a man.
King of Thieves, the Master of the Court of Miracles, as well as the old friend Porthos had mentioned. He greeted me kindly, bowed and welcomed me to his humble abode as a guest. "I must apologise for the manner in which you were brought," he informed me as he invited us all to sit and eat with him at table. "We saw you trying to free Porthos and assumed you to be his beloved, so took you with him."
"I see…well although I cannot say I appreciated being kicked in the face, I am grateful you saved Porthos." Considering the alternative was that Porthos would have been hung at the gallows, I was ready to thank anyone who would have saved him. Charon chuckled.
"Indeed. I apologise again," allowing bygones to be bygones, I nibbled on some bread which was a little tough and dry. Truthfully I had no appetite, all too aware of the fact that Porthos beside me was going to resume his interrogation again at some stage. I hoped to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. He, however, had fallen into a deep reverie, and only when I had managed to swallow half of the bread did I notice how quiet he was being. Without thinking I naturally went to touch him, to offer comfort. I stayed my hand before it did so, but as if he had sensed my intent, Porthos began to speak what was on his mind.
"That boy, what if I did kill him?"
"If I'd killed someone, I'd know," Flea stated bluntly as I set down the bread and folded my arms upon the table.
"Either way, we have to get you out of Paris," Charon reasoned, making me jolt in shock. "It's either that, or hang." Surely not…Porthos leave Paris? But his entire life was here. The Musketeers, it was his career and the core of his being. Take that away and…what? I could not imagine Porthos leaving, unwilling to think how things would change if he disappeared, but before I could voice my protests, I reasoned with myself that Charon was right. Porthos could not stay here, not until his name was cleared. I did not doubt that Athos and the others were tirelessly looking for answers at this very moment. Part of me wondered if my brother even knew I was here.
"You know I'm grateful, but maybe I should stay here in Paris. Clear my name."
"The risk is too great for you and us, unless you don't care about this place anymore." It was impossible to mistake the contempt in Flea's voice, lingering with hurt which I did not fully understand. It seemed there was more to this than I could see, there was an underlying tension in the room which I could not explain. History suddenly being forced to the surface must have also unearthed many old grudges and forgotten feelings, I imagined.
"There are other places he could hide," I offered tentatively, uncertain if my voice had any value in this conversation. "My brother and I would protect him, as well as the Musketeers. We do not abandon our own. Porthos need not stay here."
"Yes, he is good at leaving this place behind. I imagine it would be simple enough for him to leave again." Once more, the bitterness in Flea's voice was so vivid I could almost taste it myself. I scowled at her in frustration. Looking between Flea and Porthos, Charon shrugged noncommittedly.
"You always did whatever Flea told you."
"Except when I begged him to stay." For a lengthy silence, Flea continued to peer at Porthos accusingly before eventually rising to her feet and walking away, the feathers on her dress rustling with each step. The moment she was gone, the air seemed to soften, the tension vanishing along with her. I sensed there was a lot more than simple history between these three. What would life be without a good old fashioned tragic triangle of love? I helped myself to some wine and drank deeply. I needed it at this point.
"Alright, I'll go." Finally reaching a decision, I gulped down the last drop before setting down my goblet, wiping my mouth carefully with my sleeve as I looked sadly at Porthos as he thanked Charon for his help. It was settled, then. We were losing Porthos unless we could clear his name. Quickly.
"I've ordered the celebration for tomorrow. The people here need a distraction from their misery. It's the perfect cover for you to slip away. Get out of France."
"What are you celebrating?" I asked, reaching for another drink. Taking up the jug, Charon deftly poured me another serving of wine which I toasted to him as he explained.
"Nothing in particular, it is simply an excuse to steal some fine wine and drink away our sorrows with music and dance," he explained with a smile. "You are welcome to attend, should you wish to."
"I don't think so. Athos would have my head if anything were to happen to you, Madeleine," putting away any suggestion that I might attend a celebration in the Court of Miracles, Porthos gave me a stern look. "You will be going home to your brother as soon as it's dark outside." Over the brim of my cup, I snorted with an arch of my brow.
"Who are you, my father?" At this Charon laughed as Porthos spluttered in disbelief. I do believe this wine was not watered down. I could feel the strong warmth of the alcohol upon my throat as I drank at it. It was strong, but it was making me bolder. I drank another sip. "In any case, I am going nowhere. I am going with you tomorrow." Now his jaw went slack. "I will never rest easy until I know you are safe, so I am coming with you when you leave Paris, and we shall find somewhere safe for you to hide until we have proof of your innocence." Throwing back my head, which in hindsight was a poor decision, I finished the wine then slammed the goblet down a little too earnestly as it clanged upon impact. I pointed at Porthos and wagged my finger warningly. "And don't think for one moment that I will change my mind." Satisfied I had said my fair share, I pushed myself up from the table.
Elegantly stepping over the bench, I turned with a widespread curtsey to the King of Thieves, dropping down low with a lift of my skirts and incline of my head, the most formal of curtseys in a lady's arsenal. It amused Charon, who started to laugh as I then twirled and whistled merrily as I walked away. For several stunned moments, Porthos simply stared after me until suddenly he realised that I was wandering off alone in the Court of Miracles. His resonant shout bellowed after me. "Madeleine, wait!"