The word was melancholy, and it was everywhere I turned. The king. The queen. Even Constance. All of us carried a deep moroseness within, and it seemed that the entire palace had been tinted a sombre shade of blue. I had not spoken to my brother or the others since our altercation, and I had actively avoided crossing paths with them. Especially Porthos. I could not bear to think of him, therefore seeing him was quite out of the question. Cecila informed me several times that one or the other had come to see me, but I asked her to send them away, citing that it was too occupied to receive them.
I felt bitterly alone, with only my work for company. The only small measure of joy was my precious hours with the prince, tutoring little Louis in writing his first letters and reading his first book, teaching him of the world through history, geography, language and philosophy. Eventually he would have many tutors to instruct him, all with formal educations and impressive accolades from their universities, but at least I could provide him with a solid foundation, and there was nothing quite like the feeling of knowing that every word and letter that little boy wrote was because I had taught him how to do it.
He was a glorious reprieve to the monotonous dreariness of life, an expressed sadness following us like an unwelcome shadow. The king's behaviour was growing increasingly inexplicable, especially when he suddenly seemed to decide that he would bring his exiled brother Gaston back to court. Once the news spread, it created an uproar of shock and astonishment. Three years ago Gaston had attempted to undermine Louis within the court, plotting to overthrow the king and take his place upon the throne.
It had been a busy time for me that year, for I had acted on Anne's orders to find evidence of the Duke of Orleans treachery, and I had done so gladly. I never much liked Gaston, as I had little taste for Feron. Truthfully, it seemed that Louis was the best of the brothers, strange as it was to say. To have Gaston back in Paris was a dangerous thing, and Treville was anxious to think of what Gaston might try to do this time. A slippery rat like him would not be suffer to be chastised and sit quietly thereafter.
Both Anne and Treville had gone to the king, to try and reason with him or at least have him tell them why he was doing this, but Treville's thunderous expression was enough to tell me that the king had not been forthcoming. I went with him to see Gaston's return and found him to be much unaltered. Still as greasy looking and repugnant as ever. It turned my stomach to see him simpering towards the king, acting well the part of the meek and regretful younger brother who realised his wrongdoings and repented himself of them accordingly. He and Feron…I trusted neither of them.
The proof of the matter was that Gaston had only just returned to Paris and already had stirred trouble. He had murdered three innocent people in a tavern, simply because he had been robbed. I wanted to slap him. No, I would even go so far as to say I wanted to spit upon his boot, unladylike and discourteous as it was, but such was the extent of my dislike. The news was brought to us directly by Athos, who had witnessed the event himself. I stood silently by the window, my back turned to him as I gazed outside seemingly disinterested in the matter at hand, but listening all the same. "Who robbed him?" Treville demanded desperately, already on edge with Gaston's return, and now this.
"It was packed to the rafters, it could have been one of many."
"He should never have been brought back in the first place," ire rising with every passing word, Treville turned some of that ire upon my brother. "Why didn't you inform me?"
"You're not the captain anymore." At this I turned my head, sensing the brewing conflict between the two. It was strange to hear them be at odds, knowing just how deeply Athos respected Treville, who in my heart I still thought of fondly as the captain. It had been strange for a long time to view him as the Minister for War, and for some time I had mistakenly called him captain until the new title stuck.
"If I were, I'd keep to the garrison and not ride out with my men at every opportunity." The admonishment was not well received, Athos speaking plainly that the king had given him a direct order, but as calm and level as Athos's voice remained, Treville's continued to rise with a burst of anger. "The king is not himself!" I looked at them now, turning away from the outside world to observe the two men as they faced one another. "You need to start thinking like a leader, Athos, not just a soldier." Recovering himself, Treville let his anger settle so hen next he spoke, it was firm but closer to his usual tone. "And we must tell each other everything." After a moment my brother nodded in understanding.
"This inn, the men were all war veterans. They'll want justice." Exhaling deeply, Treville inclined his head in agreement.
"I cannot comprehend the King's behaviour these days…but I'll try to reason with him." Rising, he turned then to look at me, a brief smile before his hand extended, inviting me towards him. I approached and took it, feeling the familiar squeeze of his fingers around mine before he patted my hand gently. "But if anyone can reason with the king, it would be you, little one. The king listens to you still, perhaps you can comprehend what I cannot."
"Although I can make no promises as to that, I will certainly try." Glancing to Athos, a strike of mournful melancholy pierced my soul and I hurriedly looked away. "The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better. I want Gaston gone as much as you do." Seemingly intent on taking this opportunity, I noticed my brother move towards me, his voice soft and endearing.
"Madeleine, if I could speak with you…"
"Later perhaps, Athos. I have duties to attend to." Steeling myself against him, I concealed the painful swell of my throat and rushed to escape his presence, striding past him without so much as a glance. "As I am certain you do as well." Treville was quick to notice the tension between us, the frigid hostility I openly displayed and once he had taken his leave of Athos, hastened to follow after me.
"Little one, what has happened? Has Athos angered you somehow?"
"He treats me like I am still a child, they all do." Muttering almost to myself, I rubbed my head where an ache had started to settle itself in residence. "They do not understand what it has been like here. I know they were at war and faced their own horrors, but there have been battles to fight in this city ever since they left, and we have had to fight them without their help. Sometimes, completely alone. I feel…I apologise, I forgot myself for a moment." Realising that I had begun to run into a tangent, I quickly stopped myself, but Treville was listening keenly. Gently he took my arm, bringing me to a halt from the intent stride which had carried me from Athos.
"You have been lonely all this time, but now even when they are back, you find yourself lonelier than ever." Jolting in surprise I looked at Treville in wonder, not realising that he had been observing me so keenly as to glean my innermost thoughts. "As much as it pains me to say, little one, you have become a solider even without realising." Stepping towards me and taking my shoulders in his grasp, he looked at me directly. "You have fought battles and waged wars, have endured hardship and suffering, even torture. You have faced enemies and defended your allies, protected the king and queen and commanded yourself with absolute distinction. If these are not the traits of a soldier, then I am but an old fool." He brushed at my hair, tucking the loose strand behind my ear. "A soldier's soul can be a lonely one, especially without your brothers in arms beside you."
"I have no brothers in arms," whispering almost tearfully, I fought my own war against myself to hold them at bay, refusing to shed a tear in the open view of the court where anyone might see. "There is no one to watch my back wherever I go. I am…alone, and minister…captain…I am always afraid." Seeing that I was beginning to lose the battle, Treville drew me into his embrace so that my face was hidden from view. Such a gesture of affection would perhaps raise a few eyebrows, but it was common knowledge about the court that I was Treville's daughter in all but blood and name. He was a father to me, and these past few years he was the source of strength and reassurance I turned to when I doubted myself.
"What are you afraid of, Madeleine?" An apt question.
"Everything." The scars on my back seemed to writhe and crawl, tingling with an echo of pain as I felt everything seem to press in against me. "I am afraid of everything."
"Oh sweet child, it's alright. It's alright." Treville soothed me, trying to reassure me that I was safe and that he would never allow anything to harm me again. He did not say so, but I knew he understood where this fear had been created. Rochefort. Dead for four years and yet still I saw his face in my mind every night in horrifying detail. He had dulled me, like a blade overused and uncared for. Drained the light and warmth from the sun and left me with nothing but a wintery chill. "I will speak to the king if you would prefer to go and rest."
"No," shaking my head, I drew in a deep breath and hurriedly dried my face to erase the evidence of tears, stepping away from Treville's fatherly embrace. "No, I am quite alright. We must attend to our duties, and you are right. He may just listen to me." It was a futile hope, but the only one we had. At least it granted us the audience we wanted, and Gaston was promptly summoned at Treville's request to answer for his actions before Louis, who listened to the recounting of the event in quiet contemplation. Gaston denied nothing, but also refused to accept any responsibility for the matter or show any remorse for the fact that he had killed three men in cold blood.
"They are outraged, your majesty," Treville explained, trying to make Louis understand. "These are loyal men who have fought to defend France, only to have their brothers in arms killed by the king's own brother. It could create unrest amongst them. It could cause them to lose faith in your majesty." As I observed, Louis retained a thinly veiled disinterest. "If the duke would just apologise to these soldiers."
"Absolutely not." Spoken emphatically, Louis refused to even entertain the notion of his brother apologising to common soldiers.
"They're animals," the vile wretch drawled, "they took my money."
"Quite right," Louis agreed as I exhaled quietly. This was not going to plan. "It is the thief who caused this tragedy in the first place." He looked to Treville. "Root them out, Treville. Recover what was stolen." It was then Gaston showed a hint of panic, and my sharp eyes snapped to attend to the little motion he made of immediate protest, stating that such a thing was necessary. "I'm afraid I must insist." I found it…curious that Louis would insist that we went to all the trouble of finding a thief over a stolen purse of gold. In all honesty, such a thing was rather small and Gaston had more than enough coin to spare a single purse, and yet the king insisted. I looked to him, wondering what he could be possibly up to.
"Majesty…"
"Soldiers respect the chain of command, Treville, you know this." Cutting Treville off before he could protest, Louis looked at him in a commanding manner. "Show them a strong hand. Find the thief, and bring him before me." Allowing a moment of silence, I then presented myself forward.
"Majesty, might I have permission to assist?" I requested and when the king looked towards me, his mouth graced naturally upwards. "I should like to pay my respects to these poor souls and see what remunerations might be made before things become…unpleasant." At the word, I looked pointedly at Gaston. Until now he had ignored me, but he started in recognition of my voice and frowned at me deeply until all at once, he seemed to suddenly remember who I was.
"If I am not mistaken, you are the heinous bitch who saw to my banishment three years ago with your tiresome meddling." At the blunt insult, Treville snapped loudly to silence him and even Louis's brow furrowed in mild anger. I had come to realise that Louis purposefully hid his emotions these days. A king could not feel too strongly one way or another, but he allowed the emotion to roll from his tongue as his warning tone had Gaston immediately retreating.
"Take care how you speak to the comtesse, brother. She is a dear friend to my wife and a loyal member of this court. You are never to insult her again, am I understood?" Bowing, Gaston apologised to Louis, and I did not fail to notice he did not direct that apology to me.
"It is alright, your majesty. It is understandable that there are some sores which still sting," pointedly ignoring Gaston and his pathetic pouting, I returned my focus upon the king. "As I was saying, I would like to help in this matter. Perhaps I can settle the unrest before it becomes unmanageable. I know you care for your subjects, especially those who are veterans of the war. I would be honoured to act as your liaison on your behalf."
"You remain a kind and generous soul, Madeleine dear," the king called me affectionately. "Very well, do as you will. I shall trust your judgement." Satisfied, I curtseyed before nodding to Treville, signalling that we should take our leave.
"What will you do?" Once we were outside and away from the both of them, Treville allowed himself to ask.
"Exactly as I said. I will do what I can to settle their tempers. I shall cover the costs of the funeral, and perhaps see if I can listen to their complaints. With everything else going on, we cannot allow the veterans to become forgotten. If there is something we can do for them, then I shall shift the city if I must to bring them what they have rightly earned." Chuckling approvingly, Treville patted me on the head before we set out to attend to our latest task, which also meant that I had no choice but to face Athos and the others once again. Ah, the things I do for the love of France.