Eventually Porthos managed to pull me back to the table, plying me with more wine whereby Charon began to regale me with stories of Porthos' past. I listened in complete rapture to every word, asking questions and uncovering secrets Porthos had long kept hidden. I learned more about Porthos and his past in one conversation than I had in five years of knowing him. I loved the stories, asking for more and more just to satiate my thirst. We all laughed, the wine going straight to our heads as Charon finished yet another tale of Porthos in his misguided youth. The men were both chortling as I giggled, hands pressed against my burning cheeks which were warm from the alcohol.
The split in my lip was now completely forgotten as I grew accustomed to the sting from every laugh and smile. If it scarred, then so be it. I did not see why I should not smile when I was so thoroughly amused. All three of us were drunk, alight with a pleasant haze of delirium and nostalgia. Charon poured me another drink, and although I accepted it I chose not to drink it, holding the goblet in my hand. This was about my limit for wine. Anymore and I would suffer for it in the morning, and I did not want to lose my head completely in this place. Although I trusted Porthos who in turn trusted Charon, the same could not be said for the others who lived here.
So I held onto my drink, humming contentedly as the laughter dispersed around us. Leaning towards his old friend, Charon pointed as he spoke. "You, you were the best thief here," he recollected as Porthos shook his head, whether out of polite humility or denial I was not certain. "And you enjoyed it." Looking down into his wine, Porthos seemed to grow a little solemn in his answer.
"Maybe," observing him as I leaned upon my palm, I wondered if part of Porthos missed his life here. "Yeah…the thrill, the danger…the brotherhood." Through the haze of wine, I noticed Charon tense at this. "And then I found those things somewhere else, a brotherhood with honour."
"You saying there's no honour amongst thieves?" He challenged, but Porthos shook his head heavily and assured Charon that this was not what he meant, perhaps a little too deep into his wine to take heed of the gravity in the King of Thieves' tone. "Your Musketeer brothers, where are they? And where were they at the Chatelet this morning?"
"Where we promised we would be," I rose to the challenge but forced to maintain a softness to my voice. I did not wish to appear hostile, but I would not listen to my brother's integrity be questioned in my presence. "At his side, and I know they were coming for him when you and your men intervened." Turning his dark gaze upon me, I blinked dreamily as the wine continued to slow my thoughts. Everything seemed to take a great effort, even sitting upright required great strength as I felt drained of energy. My chin slipped from my hand several times as I slurred my speech at Charon. "My brother and our friends…hiccup…will never abandon Porthos."
"How can you be sure of that?" I hiccupped again, a tiny squeak of sound escaping me. My heavy lids blinked furiously at Charon.
"I am here, am I not? Does that not count for something?" In answer to this, Porthos ruffled my hair affectionately, but perhaps a little clumsily. There was a half smile on his face, however all of a sudden it vanished with a groan of pain as he leaped to his feet, as if something had stabbed him in the foot and the pain had shot through him.
"What's wrong?" Alarmed by Porthos' sudden reaction I was already rising out of my chair as Porthos gripped his face, staggering slightly with his eyes pressed tightly closed.
"I remembered…something from last night," struggling for breath, I lingered in place as I was suddenly wide awake and alert, tensing in anticipation of what Porthos had remembered. "The boy. The one who was killed…he was there, at The Wren. I saw him arguing with someone." But when questioned who that other person was, clearly Porthos could not remember or had not seen them clearly, because an explosion of rage came crashing down with his hands against the table, causing the entire thing to shake.
"Easy," intending to soothe him, I stepped tentatively to his side, leading with my hand so that Porthos could choose to deflect my touch if he so wished. When he made no such motion, I placed a firm grip upon his arm then began to rub circled into his back. "This is good, it is something Porthos." Using my foot I managed to bring his fallen seat back to its upright position and guided him to sit. "We will set all of this right, I promise you." Sighing heavily, Porthos eventually brought my hand to his forehead, where I imagined he needed the cool touch of my skin to soothe his rather warm brow.
We stayed like that for a time, my hand still rubbing circles into his back as Porthos tried to recover more of his memories. Charon offered him another drink, but Porthos refused it. "I need to clear my head. If I could just remember what happened…"
"Perhaps you don't want to," Charon suggested, "I mean if you did kill that boy," but Porthos cut across him, unable to accept that he could so readily forget killing someone, especially a boy that young.
"Flea's right! I would remember! No matter how much I drank."
"Besides, the pistol would not be your method of choice," the steady logic began to return to my mind as the wine lost its grip upon my senses, allowing free thought to flow once again. Both men looked at me in confusion. "If Porthos was to kill a stranger, then I believe only great anger would have moved him to do so intentionally. Therefore, you would have used your fists, not a pistol." I looked at him softly. "Even then, I believe it would have only been an accident. You are not capable of murder." If he was surprised by my faith in him, it only showed for a brief moment before Porthos relaxed under my hands.
He made to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps. Someone wearing a thief mask entered the room, barging inside without invitation. Initially I was puzzled, however I then saw the gun. Porthos reacted upon instinct. Suddenly I found myself being powerfully shoved backwards, falling to the ground whilst Porthos launched himself at Charon to cover just as the weapon fired. The scent of smoke and gunpowder filled my nose as I felt the air flee my lungs, but I managed to retain my senses.
Launching myself to my feet at the same moment Porthos flung a knife at the assailant, I hooked the stool he had knocked aside and tossed it into the air to catch. The assailant turned, making to escape from us. I flung the stool with all my might, watching it hammer against the would-be assassin's back where I heard a heavy grunt and pained gasp. "Madeleine…" the warning tone went unheeded as I started forwards, intending to follow the assassin to uncover who he was and his intentions. Was it Charon, or perhaps a wild shot intended for Porthos? Either way, I wanted answers. I darted forwards. "Madeleine no!"
Ignoring Porthos, I flung myself after the assassin, stepping out of the throne room only to be met with an empty corridor both ways. It gave me pause, attempting to listen to the sound of retreating footsteps, but any I might have heard were obscured by the sound of Porthos barrelling after me. Without warning I was hoisted off the ground, making me shriek as Porthos tossed me over his shoulder. "Put me down! He is getting away, Porthos! We can't just let him escape when he tried to kill one of you!"
"If you think I'm going to let you go chasing after assassins, then you've got another thing coming," stoically depositing me back inside, Porthos held me firmly in front of him as I received the full force of his angered glare. "What if you found him, hm? What if hurt you? Or worse, killed you?" I was touched by the concern, but it was frustrating being forever assumed to be a weak and unqualified person. Despite the fact that I was a woman and not a man, I was more than capable of chasing after a failed assassin. Clearly he was ill-trained or simply an amateur if he missed his shot at such a close range, no matter who the intended target was to be. I scowled in return.
"Do you not think it suspicious that an assassin comes here now of all times just after you were framed for murder? A murder which you may very well have witnessed, but simply cannot remember!"
"That does not justify you running headfirst into danger, Athos would skin me alive!"
"Oh, so it is only because you fear my brother you are stopping me from finding answers, hm? I am not helpless, Porthos, I can handle myself!"
"You are…" whatever imaginative expletives Porthos might have chosen to describe me in that moment, we were interrupted by Charon clearing his throat to remind us both that he was still present and had, in fact, been shot. I had not even realised that the bullet had struck flesh, so I hastily abandoned the argument with Porthos in favour of seeing to his wound. The injured always came first.
"Hold still, and do not worry. I have tended enough bullet wounds to be able to call myself an expert in such affairs," attempting to reassure Charon that he was going to be alright, I quickly looked at his arm and curled my hand around his lower bicep to stave off excessive bleeding. "Please excuse me, but you will have to take off your shirt." He blinked at me incredulously. Behind me, Porthos begrudgingly encouraged him to comply.
"I'd do as she says. Last time I tried to get away, she sewed bows and flowers onto all my shirts." Unable to help myself, I smirked at the memory. It was the first and last time Porthos attempted to refuse stitches for an injury taken in a skirmish. Clearly deciding that he did not desire flowery appendages sprouting from all of his shirts, Charon agreed to let me tend to his wound. The supplies were promptly fetched and I was able to remove the bullet without causing too much pain, expertly pulling it free and dropping it into a bowl.
We moved to a more private place to treat the wound which I bathed and cleaned meticulously all whilst Porthos and Flea watched. All the while Flea held Charon's hand, something I observed but made no comment on. It was of no consequence to me, and I had no interest in their private affairs. All that mattered was the patient. "Well? Will you need a blade to seal the wound?" Flea finally questioned me as I finished bathing the injury.
"It is only a flesh wound, he was lucky. The bullet has not broken any bones and did not pass through the arm. It will hurt for some time, but it should heal with little more than a scar to commemorate the event," sorting through my supplies, I selected a fine needle and strong thread, passing the needle briefly through a candle flame. "My needlework is well known, so the scarring will be minimal. Nothing much to boast about, I'm afraid."
"Thank you, this is kind of you."
"It is the least I can do." Giving warning that I was about to begin, I carefully inserted the needle through the skin and the top layer of flesh, pinching at the wound to help hold it together so that I could close it. There was no screaming or cursing, no writhing in pain and agony, just a simple closure.
"Suppose you're right and the shot was intended for me," Porthos broke the silence we had lulled into, watching me work but also wearing a pensive expression. "Who'd go to all the trouble?"
"The Cardinal," Charon offered simply, lying upon his side whilst still holding Flea's hand, only twitching upon occasion to indicate any irritation. "His guards can't reach you, so they send a trained killer." I snorted.
"A trained killer who misses his mark at close range?" I tugged at a thread. "Whoever hired him should ask for their money back." It did not take me long to finish sewing the wound as it was only small, so once the thread was cut, all that was left to bind it. "I am almost finished here. Charon needs to rest. Let his body recover and heal in peace," taking this as a directive to leave, both Flea and Porthos did so, leaving me alone with Charon for the first time. "How do you feel?"
"Better than I did," he admitted as he looked over the stitching and made an impressed expression. "You were not exaggerating your skills, this looks like fine work."
"I have a steady hand. Almost done," using fresh linen to pad the injury I then wrapped the rest around his arm, securing it with and tucking the ends away so that it looked clean and neat. "There. It shall heal in no time. I can check on it again for you tomorrow, but I believe the stitches will not break unless you strain your arm too much. If that happens, then you will either have to find someone with as steady a hand as myself, or endure cauterisation instead." The latter option seemed unpreferable to Charon who promptly promised to be careful. "I shall let you rest now. Rest well."
"Thank you, Madeleine." Giving a smile over my shoulder as I put away my things and went to the door, I stepped outside without giving any thought to what I might find. I expected Porthos and Flea to be conversing, perhaps reminiscing over their past. I did not expect to find their lips locked together in a passionate embrace. Both of them gasped and looked at me in fearful alarm followed by a swift relief. Clearly, they were glad I was not Charon. I almost spluttered and yelped in my surprise, but considering Charon was still awake and inside the room I was attempting to leave, I somehow managed to maintain my composure.
Promptly stepping into the corridor I closed the door firmly behind me, not satisfied until I heard a firm click of it securing into place. Then I rounded on the two of them. "Have you both completely taken leave of your senses?!" Whisper-shrieking at them, they promptly untangled their arms from around one another as I gripped at my head in disbelief. For a moment I processed what I had witnessed, already feeling guilt by association weighing upon my conscience. I looked back at the door where Charon rested inside. Then I levelled a cold, heavy frown upon Porthos. "I am disappointed in you, Porthos." I walked away.
"Madeleine…" as I walked I raised my hand up then clenched a fist, a sign for him to be quiet. Behind me I heard his heavy exhale follow me as I left him with Flea. However they spent the rest of their night I did not care at all. Wanting nothing more than to sleep, I tried to think of somewhere I might be able to sleep in relative safety. I did not feel at ease here, but seeing as Porthos did not follow me this time, he must have resumed his fornications with Flea. I did not know this place, nor did I trust its people. The only place I could think of which might be safe was the throne room itself. I imagined that no one would have reason to enter if the king was not in residence, therefore it would be empty. It was the best I could think of, other than returning to where Charon rested, but I did not want him to misunderstand my intentions, nor allow rumours to spread that I had entered his room and not left.
No, for the sake of my honour if not entirely my safety, I selected the throne room. There were places to hide myself away, so I gathered a few things to create a den of sorts from the assorted menagerie of items I found lying around. Then I crawled inside, satisfied that I could rest there comfortably and prayed that I would not be found by an ill-meaning ruffian. At times like this, perhaps it was a good thing that I was an unattractive woman. Most men would simply pass me over.