Metal clunked, groaning deeply as I stirred. Pain. Such unyielding, tortuous pain. Cold. Hungry. Pain. Everything was pain, and it was the only word I knew. What else did I have left but agony for company? I was alone, broken and deformed. A bird who had lost its wings. The door swung open and someone swept inside. I thought it would be Rochefort, or another of his torturers, but after a moment, tender hands came to rest upon me. I was so numb to touch and sensation that I could not even react, only keep my eyes closed against the world, to deny its existence and me with it.
They moved aside my hair, carefully removing it from over my face, before a tortured sob uttered itself from the man. "This is all my doing…Madeleine, I am so sorry for this…" Aramis, it was Aramis. Drawn to the sound and presence of him, I shifted myself a little, attempting to turn my head but the movement sent a sharp stabbing sensation through my neck, and I whimpered for it. "Easy, easy now…I'm going to get you out of here."
"Hurry, we do not have time to waste," another familiar voice spoke, but I could not place it at that moment. I was too drained, too empty, and too hurt to be able to summon the memory to recognise anything.
"Alright, my sweet, this will hurt, but please try to bear with it," taking my arms, I felt them wrap around Aramis's neck as he drew me towards him. He was right. The moment he gathered me up, I contorted in protest, but dimly thought to stifle my own cry. "Hush, hush, I know my sweet, I know, hold on, just a little longer…" lifting me from the ground, Aramis carried me out of my cell, bearing me to freedom and out of the darkness. We were moving quickly, but Aramis moved as smoothly as possible as not to jostle me. "The queen?"
"Alive. No thanks to you," it was a woman's voice, that much I could comprehend. Through the throbbing of my head, I tried to place it and eventually, I came to realise that it was Milady.
"And the others?"
"Gone to help Porthos." Porthos…my sweet Porthos. I wanted nothing more than to see him…no. No I could not let him see me like this. Or my brother. If Athos saw what Rochefort had done…he would kill him without hesitation.
"Then Rochefort's allegations will soon be disproved."
"Even those that are true?" Aramis did not immediately answer and I sensed his guilt. Although I was unable to properly hold onto him, my fingers still dislocated, I shifted myself a little closer to him, ignoring the pangs to rest my brow against his neck. I felt him turn towards me, beard brushing against me in the small areas where I could still feel.
"It won't be long before they discover our escape."
"It was not an escape, it was a rescue," Milady corrected, "for which you are very welcome." But then her voice softened, and I felt someone brush at my hair. "And I could not leave her there. Rochefort would have killed her."
"You care about Madeleine?" Dimly, my focus fought to maintain itself, turning towards Milady as I tried to open one of my swollen eyes.
"No matter what she thinks of me, she will always be precious to me." A pulse overcame me, and if it would not have caused me pain, I would have gasped. "We were close, once. She was like my own sister. In my heart…she still is." We continued in silence thereafter, but Milady's words filled the silence for me, repeating in my head. I was precious to Milady. She cared about me even through my hatred of her. She thought of me as her own sister, even after all these years.
When the ringing of a sword being drawn snatched at our ears, Aramis rushed to set me down upon something solid, turning to block the advance of the guard who had discovered us. I heard them grapple, struggling with one another until another blade was drawn. "No! We don't need to kill him." Protesting firmly, I pushed myself upright a little, attempting to move but the moment I attempted to put weight onto my leg, it buckled beneath me and I collapsed to the ground as Milady demanded why she could not kill the guard. A heavy grunt, then the sound of something heavy dropping. "You shouldn't treat death so lightly." Leaving her with those thoughts, Aramis saw me upon the ground and immediately rushed to my side. "Madeleine!"
"Is she alright?" Looking me over, every touch and movement eliciting a moan.
"She needs treatment, and quickly." Bearing me up, Aramis placed me before him on the waiting horse and together, we rode out of the palace. I only stayed upright because he held me, arm propping me against his chest. He held me, whispering sweetly all the way, apologising to the end of the earth and begging for forgiveness, cursing his own soul. I wished I could speak to him, to tell him that he did not need to feel guilty, but my jaw was so swollen that I could not utter a word.
When we arrived at our predetermined destination, Aramis brought me down from the horse and carried me to where we were to hide. I knew not where we were, for I could not see, but heard the knock upon a door which was opened a few moments later. Immediately, Aramis pushed his way inside. "Make way, move!" Ordering whoever was there to move, there was a brief pause, before the most horrific sound I had ever heard in my life ripped through the air. It felt as if all the pain and suffering I had endured had collected and passed onto my brother, who's scream was so raw I thought he would rip apart his vocal cords.
This sound was swiftly followed by Porthos' demonic bellow, awash with rage and wrathful fury, numerous other voices cried out in anguish, and a rush of movement came towards me. Fingers brushed at me but drew away, too afraid to touch me in my broken, tattered state. Other than to scream or bellow, no one could speak. Aramis carried me, limp and prone in his arms, through to a place where he could lay me down. "I'll kill him…I'll kill him!" Athos, my brother.
"Believe me, there will be a line," Aramis promised as he began to assess the extent of my injuries. I heard Constance crying softly, calling my name and stroking at my hair as I tried to force my eye open. "Her fingers are dislocated, as are some of her joints. We have to put them back."
"I'll fetch water and bandages," rushing away, both Constance and Aramis hurried to prepare for my treatment, Athos taking Constance's place to hold my face delicately in his hands.
"Sister? Madeleine can you hear me? Please, say something." He begged, but I could not. "I swear he will pay for this. Every hurt, every wound, I will return it upon him a thousandfold." At this, I managed a soft moan.
"Athos," speaking gently but firmly, Aramis spoke to my brother and the others, who I could sense were lingering near. "You will not want to stay for this next part."
"I will not leave my sister!" But Aramis was right, Athos should not stay for this. I did not want him to, because no matter how much it would hurt to correct my misaligned fingers, it would hurt Athos more to watch.
"Go," I croaked, begging desperately as I managed to raise a twisted hand to my brother, brushing against his face. "Please…go." The deep, enraged breaths burned at the air as Athos looked upon me, but eventually, he consented to go. "Do not…listen. Please. Do not…listen…"
"If you want me, call for me. I will be here if you need, sweet little sister of mine." Then he kissed my forehead, finding the most unblemished part of my being he could find before drawing away. I readied myself, and again Aramis apologised tearfully, unashamed to display his distress as he took one of my hands and warned me that this would be painful. I nodded in agreement, knowing that this must be done.
When he began to work at my fingers, pushing and twisting them back into place, I whimpered at first, convulsing with feeble kicks until all at once I released a cry. Each finger sent a fire blazing up my arm, as Aramis not only corrected my fingers but the rest of me, which was broken and dislocated, so much so that I had not even realised. My shoulder. My leg. No wonder I could not walk upon it. The agony grew, layer upon layer until I was screaming whilst Constance held me, the hot flush of her tears scorching my tender skin until with one final release, I spiralled into wailing sobs.
It pained me just as much to know that on the other side of the door, my brother and the others were listening. Porthos. D'Artagnan. Treville. Everyone I cared about were made to suffer with me, and I howled like a wretched creature until I had no strength left to sustain it. Then Aramis stepped aside, allowing Constance to tend to the wounds of my body by stripping the rags which still clung by threads around my form. She cried also, but lay cold cloths against every enflamed lash mark, every bruise and laceration, every burn and brand until gradually the soothing sensation washed over me.
Somehow I managed to sleep for a little while, exposed only before Constance until she was able to bind me practically from head to toe and cover me with one of her old dresses, helping me to wear it. Then my brother returned, and the others close upon his heel to look at me, see the damage Rochefort had done out of malice and spite. I felt their rage, and it seeped into my sleep until the images of him tortured me, giving me no peace even in rest. I writhed and screamed, and this seemed to be what broke my brother as he held me in his arms and wept.
They stayed until the last possible moment until they had no choice but to leave, to go to the king and finally bring down Rochefort. Athos almost refused to leave me, but the others reminded him that they had to defeat Rochefort, and then they could avenge my mistreatment. He kissed me again, but now I was beginning to gather my strength back. It ebbed and flowed, pulsing quietly until with each tender touch, each kiss from one after another, I seemed to draw upon their own strength and restore my own. "I will make this right, sweet sister," Athos vowed.
"I will make amends for the rest of my life, dearest Madeleine," Aramis continued, following with another press of his lips to my forehead.
"Rochefort will die. He sealed his fate the moment he touched you, sweetheart," dearest Porthos lingered for a moment, before I too felt his kiss, only his brushed against my lips. "This is the last time you will ever be hurt, darlin'." I would have smiled, but it would have hurt too much to do so.
"We'll make everything right and finish this once and for all, you have my word." D'Artagnan followed, his kiss brushing against my cheek until Treville came and knelt down beside me.
"Oh little one, I am so sorry I did not protect you…" voice trembling in rage and hurt, Treville gave a fatherly kiss, brushing at my hand before he too rose and left, taking Constance and the Spanish spymaster they had captured with them. All to unveil Rochefort as a Spanish spy, to tear him down and undo everything he had done, to save Anne. Anne…I could not abandon her now. For a while I lay in stillness, recognising that Milady had stayed to care for me, but when I began to shift and push my weight onto my arm, she rushed to my side.
"You cannot move! Madeleine, you must stay and rest," she insisted, but I shook my head in a small, delicate movement.
"I cannot, I must go to the queen…"
"In the state you are in, you are not fit to protect anyone, least of all yourself." She made to push me gently back onto the bed, buy my hand grasped her wrist with surprising speed, my fingers now able to curl and fix themselves upon her. Forcing my one decent eye upon her, I looked upon her face, directly into her eyes.
"If you have ever loved me as your sister…then help me." Her mouth dropped slightly, but I was not finished. "I am not defeated. I will not become his victim…and I will not let him hurt her either. Take me to the palace, you must know a faster route, a swifter way to her, no?" Tightening my grip upon Milady, who was once a sister to me, I pleaded with her. "Please, if I do not go…then I will never fly again." Perhaps she did not understand my meaning, in truth I did not know exactly where the words came from, but I think in that moment, Milady was the only woman, nay the only person in the world who understood.
She understood what it meant to be broken from pain, and what it took to reforge oneself after collecting the shattered pieces. It had transformed her into the villain she had become, but I refused to do the same. I would not allow Rochefort to recreate me in his image through the pain he had inflicted, and so I would do my duty and protect Anne. Even at the cost of my own life. After a moment, Milady drew back. "You'll need something for the pain." Turning, she strode away to find what might be serviceable, and came back with brandy.
I swallowed as much of it as I could bear until I was flooded with warmth, balanced somewhere between sobriety and numbness. Gasping, I began to rise. Slowly, carefully, Milady holding her hand ready to catch me, but I managed to stand upon my own feet and acclimatise myself with the aches and throbs, the searing sharpness of lashes streaming down my back, until it all fell into a manageable dullness. I drank once more of the brandy, then I began to limp for the door, grasping a pistol which had been left behind for myself.
Milady did not hinder me but rather, helped me along. She took me through the city upon her horse, riding like a flying beast through the streets and to a secret entrance she knew, more dangerous to reach but closer to the queen's apartments. Already I could hear the sounds of battle, swords clashing and pistols firing, meaning that I had little time to act. We entered the palace, but soon found our path blocked by guards. At least there were only two, and we felled both before they had even drawn their swords.
I claimed their weapons from them, quickly lashing a belt around my waist with the sword at the hip, dagger at the back, and collected a second pistol as Milady did the same. "You are sure about this?" She questioned hesitantly, the commotion still raging on as the musketeers fought to reach the king.
"There is no reason to follow, I can handle things from here." I started forwards, making for the stairs despite my limp and the pain.
"You have grown into an admirable woman, Madeleine," speaking softly, I would not have heard her if it were not for the echoing tunnel we stood in. I glanced back to her, my face a motley of devastation, little more than a crippled woman, yet Milady looked upon me with such an overwhelming pride that it startled me. "I am glad that you do not become like me." I was uncertain of how to answer, but before I could think of an appropriate response, Milady overtook me.
She helped me fight my way through the guards, though they were thinner in numbers than perhaps those guarding the king. We cut them down easily enough, Milady holding them back and allowing me to run for the queen, or at least as quickly as I could hobble. I looked back only once, catching her look and I wondered what I should think of her now. I was grateful, but I had no time to dwell upon the shifting of my feelings towards her. Anne needed me. Now more than ever.
I hurried to her, pistols spent so I had only the sword and dagger I had claimed. I drew both, holding them despite the difficulty, and made for her rooms to discover her kneeling, with Rochefort directly behind her. I saw something catch the light at his side, a chain. A garotte. "You will never touch me again, Rochefort," I heard Anne say as I carefully stepped inside, shifting the grip of the dagger silently as to not alert Rochefort to my presence. Not until I was ready.
He raised his hands over her head, brought the chain down towards her neck. A fury alighted within me unlike any other, and it burned away all semblance of discomfort and agony until I was but a wildfire of fury and desperation. I threw the knife with all my might, and it sunk with a heavy thud into Rochefort's lower back. He arched with a scream, releasing the chain as Anne gasped and flung herself aside, crawling until she was away from Rochefort and allowed herself to turn and see who her rescuer had been. When she looked upon me, it was with pure, unadulterated horror. "Dear God…Madeleine, your face…"
"Her majesty is right, Rochefort," I spoke aloud, having managed to work my jaw free and loosen it to allow a better flow of speech, but not yet perfect. It was enough to convey my thoughts, however, as Rochefort grimaced and groped for the knife but was unable to reach it, turning his wrath upon me with a beady stare. "You will never lay a hand upon her again. I will make certain of that." Raising the sword, I levelled it upon him, moving towards Anne in a slow, deliberate circle.
Finally Rochefort managed to pull the dagger free, ignoring any pain it must have caused him and threw it back at me with a roar. I knocked it aside and quickly parried as Rochefort lunged for me, wrenching his own blade free. We were both wounded, I more than he, but I was almost delirious in a haze of brandy and willpower. He was left with nothing. I fought him, slashing in a wild fury until I caught the guard of his sword, the tip catching within the artistic coils. With a flourish, I drove his sword downwards then rammed a fist into his wounded eye.
Screaming, he staggered back and clutched at the injury, blinded momentarily and I seized the chance to finish him. Another blow struck the wound to his shoulder, one I had made with the crossbow bolt, and Rochefort once again staggered backwards. I slashed at him, cutting him deeply several times over until I was pushing him, pushing with all my might, to fell him to the ground. The blade pointed at his chest, wrist tilted to angle the sword downwards, whilst I stood the victor, though my body was screaming in agony and woe.
We glowered at one another, full of hatred and malice. Loathing one another's existence to our very core. I was unaware that the others had now appeared, Aramis and Constance first, lingering at the edge ready to help, but seemingly knowing better than to interfere. I dug the tip of my sword into Rochefort's chest, enough to draw blood. "You lose, Rochefort," I rasped, favouring one leg, bleeding anew, but alive. Very much alive. Athos and Porthos arrived then also, the Spanish spymaster in tow. I hardly even noticed them. "You did not break me. Do you understand?" As Rochefort remained silent, I swung the blade and slashed a fresh cut upon his cheek. "YOU DID NOT BREAK ME!" I wanted to scream until I was hoarse, but I staggered back then, losing my vision in a swarm of blurriness. "I am a bird…with no wings…yet still I fly…I am a bird…no wings…fly…"
I collapsed. Someone lunged to catch me, I know not who, but I felt their arms encircle me before all faded to nothing, and I succumbed to exhaustion and pain, and wishing that I would never awaken from it.