For an entire day I rested upon the queen's own bed, tended to by only the most skilled hands, treated like a princess, or even a queen. Anne wept at my side for some of it, I remembered awakening in the night to hear her cries, but they were not for herself, but for me. She was just as sorry as Aramis for what I had endured, but I had reached for her hand and squeezed it softly. Her cries quietened and instead, were replaced with warm smiles and a tender kiss. She ordered that I rested, that I would be cared for in her apartments until a full recovery was made.
The only exception she allowed was so that I could witness the marriage of d'Artagnan and Constance, two days after the palace had been turned on its head. After Rochefort's death, having refused to surrender himself into the course of justice, he had been put down like the rabid dog he was. There was no funeral for him, no one to grieve. He lay in a pine box, a feast for worms and nutrition for the soil. I did not pity his demise.
His actions were reprehensible, and once the king discovered that he had been a spy of Spain, had declared war against our neighbour to retaliate against the affront. It meant that soon, the men would be leaving for war, and I was loath to release them to it. I wished to shelter them, to keep them from harm, but also, to keep them for myself. Nightmares haunted me still, my own screams waking me in the night as memories rose to the surface of torture and agony, of drowning and burning. I would carry scars for the rest of my life.
Yet I found the strength to watch my dearest friend marry the love of her life, carried by my brother until he set me down to sit, but Porthos then appeared and lifted me into the crook of his arm. He had said nothing, had barely even looked at me, but he had been as tender as always when he held me against him, allowing me to watch closely as d'Artagnan sealed their vows of love and matrimony with a kiss. It was a moment I had yearned to see, and a blissful happiness to light the shadowy trepidation the rest of the days held.
Athos was called to become the Captain of the Musketeers, Treville having been named Minister for War. I myself was appointed as the First Attendant to Anne, along with several other fanciful titles and was given monetary compensation taken from Rochefort's estate. Once more I was a woman of wealth, but gold meant little to the irremovable scars and memories, or the length of time it would take to recover. If I ever did. Yet all of that seemed inconsequential now compared to the daunting knowledge that soon, I would be seeing my loved ones off to war.
D'Artagnan and Constance went to enjoy the last of their time together as newlyweds, Athos also leaving to attend to his new duties. Aramis had already gone, left to join a monastery to fulfil his vow to God and in self-imposed exile, to protect Anne and the dauphin, and to atone for my suffering. This meant Porthos was the only one to remain without immediate duties, and so it fell to him to assist me back to the palace to return to my rest and recuperation, commanded by Anne until I was fit and ready to return to full duties.
For a while I did not know what to say to him, my lips tingling with the memory of his kisses, and yet too weary to properly conduct myself into a conversation. We rode back upon his bay horse, my head rested against him, eyes half closed in a quiet near slumber for I knew it was the only rest I would have that would be restorative. All other sleep was plagued and haunting and brought me no comfort. Porthos went slowly, whether to make the journey as easy upon my battered body as possible or to extend the last of our time together, I could not say. Perhaps both.
His arm was around me, holding me securely with my legs resting over his, thumb rubbing into my arm in a place he had ensured no mark or wound lay upon, but even then he was excessively gentle. "You gonna be alright with us gone?" Porthos finally spoke, seemingly able to stand the silence no longer. Shifting myself, I rubbed my head against his chest to move aside my hair before settling once again, exhaling softly as the answer came immediately to me.
"No," I spoke the truth, because there was no sense in lying. "I shall not. I shall not sleep easily until I know you are all returned unharmed, and this war is over with."
"We'll be fine, sweetheart. You don't need to worry about us…"
"I shall worry, and there is nothing you can do or say that will comfort me, Porthos." Feeling a pang of multitudinous emotions, I brought my hand to his and pulled lightly so that he knew to halt the horse, allowing me to twist upon his lap carefully so that I could look upon him fully. "I wish none of you had to go. I wish…I wish I could fix this." I wanted to cry. To scream and beg for this nightmare to end, but tears did not solve the issues of the world. Porthos' expression tensed, his jaw tightening significantly until he looked away, unable to keep his eyes upon my still bruised and misaligned face. "You cannot bear to look at me," I noted with hurt.
"I'm sorry, love," he growled darkly, his entire body growing as hard as stone as he fought with his own inner turmoil. "But I get angry every time I see what he did to you. I wish I'd hurt him more. He died too easily."
"He is gone now, there is nothing more to be done about it. I will heal, eventually. I survived the torture, and I shall survive the recovery too." To this Porthos forced himself to breathe, releasing a little of his tension to look at me once more, fixing his eyes upon mine as if to ignore the menagerie of colours painted upon my flesh.
"You're the strongest person I know, Madeleine. Stronger even than me." Blinking, my head tilted slightly, regarding Porthos and the sincerity of his words before finally allowing myself to smile.
"Are you inferring that I am also as strong as an ox? I do hope you are not suggesting I look like one too." Finally, Porthos laughed. It burst from his chest, rich and mellow, startling his horse which made it start to the side but he quickly handled the reins and kept me steady, a fierce grin bearing down upon me. It was brief but refreshing, for Porthos had been far too melancholy of late. Then he surprised me by carefully taking my face into his hands and pressing a kiss to my forehead, holding me there as my eyes naturally fluttered closed.
"There's no one like you, darlin'." Feeling as if I had blossomed with sunlight within, I fought to maintain a calm, neutral expression.
"I am rather singular, I must agree." Chuckling in agreement, Porthos had his horse move on to continue our way to the palace. "Porthos, whilst you are…gone away, have you any thought to the lands and estate of your father?" This seemed to surprise him for he looked at me with a frown, clearly having thought nothing of them at all and asked what I meant. "Your sister was proven guilty of her crimes but lessened her sentence by providing evidence of the marquis's involvement. When he was charged, his right to his lands were forfeit, and they naturally passed to you as his legitimate heir."
"If it's anything to do with him, then I'm not interested. I told you, love, I don't care what happens to him or anything that belongs to him."
"But it is the law, Porthos. I have tried to speak of it to you before, but you refused to listen." He grunted, and I frowned impatiently. "This is important. I have been handling matters on your behalf regarding the estate, but a decision needs to be made now."
"Then you can have it all, I don't want it." I paused, too weary to have this argument and wishing that it was unnecessary, but the ugly truth of the matter was that Porthos was the heir to his father's lands, estate and his title. Yet, Porthos was going to war, and he needed to consider that which he was leaving behind. Someone had to manage it all, and should he…should he die, then he had to leave some written record of his will.
"Porthos, please listen to me." Placing my hand upon his arm, Porthos exhaled a heavy, reluctant breath but eventually nodded without looking at me, signalling that he was listening. "Whether you like it or not, everything that is your father's will pass to you upon his death, including his title. The land and estate cannot be left without management, otherwise the people who live and work upon it will lose their stability, their economy, even their protection. Do you not remember Pinon?" This at least seemed to make Porthos think, for I could see his expression change a little as he remembered what the villagers of Pinon had endured until I had resumed the responsibility of their welfare. "You must make a decision about what is to be done…and what is to happen to your property should…should the worst…I cannot say it, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I understand. I'll think about it."
"You do not have much time, Porthos." Again he exhaled, more of a groan of exasperation, but he managed to glance at me with a hint of a smirk.
"I'll leave word with Treville. Don't worry love, I'll handle it." Glad that he was finally seeing sense, I returned to resting my head against him. It was not long after that we returned to the palace and Porthos swiftly dismounted before reaching for me. His hands easily curled around my waist, lifting me as if I weighed nothing but he did not put me down. Instead, he continued to carry me in his arms, in front of the stableboys who all gawped, and I flushed a bright crimson as other servants and even courtiers looked at us and our closeness.
"Porthos, this is not proper…not here please…"
"You can barely stand, let alone walk. I'll carry you back all the way, and that's the end of it." Knowing that arguing would be fruitless, I covered my face with my hand to hide it from embarrassment, wishing everyone would just look away. "Besides, I won't get another chance to carry you like this for some time." This was said teasingly, Porthos carrying me inside the palace with slow, measured steps. We lapsed into another long silence, his pace continually much slower than that of his usual gait, and once again I wondered if he was purposefully delaying his return intentionally.
Eventually it was I who could bear the silence no longer, having grown accustomed to the stares and glances of onlookers and their whispers behind our backs, and soon did not care for them at all. "I will miss you, Porthos," I whispered to him, unable to conceal the words in my heart as they ached to be released. "I will miss you unlike anything I could ever describe." Porthos stopped. He looked directly ahead, gaze fixated into the distance as I felt him tense, for I was pressed directly against him and could feel his muscles harden beneath me. For a moment I feared I had made an inconvenience of myself, expression unwanted emotions that were unreciprocated.
But then Porthos strode forwards, increasing his pace until he found a secluded and private space where no one else was present, no one else to listen unwanted into our private affairs. He set me down gently, with the utmost care and attention before allowing his hands to grasp mine as he knelt before me, and I blinked in amazement as he pressed his lips to them, kissing them ardently. I only stared blankly, feeling the warmth of Porthos' lips against my bruised and swollen hands, the softness and bristle of his beard gracing against my fingers which throbbed at the slightest touch, until he released my hands from his affection, but maintained his grasp upon them. "Madeleine I…I don't know how to say this," he began, my heart fluttering faintly in my chest as I stared at him.
"Say what, Porthos?" An expression of distraught uncertainty harrowed his features, as if the words were caught upon the very tip of his tongue but no amount of effort would release them. It seemed almost like a torture. Enough so that he growled in frustration and tore away from me, striding to the wall and pressed his hands against it, seemingly battling with himself. "Porthos?" My voice echoed lightly in the hallway, beginning to rise from my seat to go to him, but a rabid agony from the strain swiftly ended the notion.
I do not know how long Porthos stood like that, his back turned to me as I listened to his deep breaths, the only sound between us until he was able to release the wall. He turned partially, still unable to look at me and kept his eyes cast at the floor exactly halfway between us. "I'm going to war, Madeleine, you know what that means?" Keeping my silence, I continued to steadily look upon Porthos, even as he was unable to look at me. "It means I could die." A different kind of hurt passed over me, one committed not by blade or hand, but cutting deeper than anything else I had ever experienced. "And even if I don't, we don't know how long this war will last. I could be gone for a long time."
"What is your point, Porthos? I already know these facts, you do not need to remind me." Straining against the lost words he could not rightly find, Porthos tipped back his head, staring into the heavens before finally he looked at me. I noticed his dark eyes were glassier than usual, expressing himself as he rarely did so. He was not crying, but it was as close as a man could possibly be to showing the deepest reserves of emotion without committing to expressive weeping.
"Do you…do you still love me?" Shock overcame me, and for a moment I could not answer. I could not imagine why Porthos would feel the need to ask me such a question, for I thought I had made myself plain. Yet as I looked upon him, a growing sense of understanding began to take root, and I realised that he was perhaps a little more afraid than even he realised. Now close to tears myself, I raised my hands towards him, inviting him to come to me. He did so, kneeling down once more and this time, I brought his head to rest upon my lap before I bowed over him, enveloping him in my embrace as he gripped his fists into my skirts. Any I pain I felt was silenced, for it was nothing in compared to being able to hold Porthos like this.
"Yes," whispering lightly, a silvery streak now trailing down my cheeks, I pushed my fingers into the thick curls of his hair, breathing in his presence as I held him with all the strength my broken body possessed. "Yes I love you, you oaf. How could I not? No matter where you go, or how long I am parted from you, my heart goes with you. It shall grow wings and fly to you, even to the farthest reach of the earth. I am sincere, Porthos. I love you unlike any other. I love you. I will say it a thousand times, if I must. I love you. I love you." Bowed over him, I wished I could shield him in my embrace for the rest of our days.
To protect him from war and bloodshed, to shield him from danger and darkness, even from the Devil himself if I must, but I knew I could not. Soon, he would let go of me and go to war as was his duty, and I would remain behind. A broken, wingless bird, who loved the man so much so, she could have flown without her wings. "Madeleine…" speaking so quietly, it was almost strange to think that such a sound had come from Porthos at all. "Madeleine…you should forget about me. I don't deserve these feelings, and I cannot return them when I am about to go to war. I have nothing to offer you, especially if I die."
"I do not care," now crying freely, I tightened my grasp upon Porthos even as he began to pull away. "Please…do not say such things. I do not need anything. Not wealth or land or titles…all I want is you, Porthos. I love you."
"It wouldn't be right; I couldn't do that to you. What if I never come back?" Freeing himself, Porthos carefully held my arms as I lowered my head, hiding my face from his view for I knew he could not bear to see it, and it would only look more horrific with my tears illuminating every blemish.
"You will, you will! Porthos please…if you do not love me then tell me right now! Tell me the truth, you must know by now, you have had time enough to think. Do you love me?" Raising my face enough so that I could look upon his mouth to witness the words as they came, Porthos first grimaced, hesitating before gradually, he answered my desperate plea.
"Madeleine, you are the most important person in my life, the one I care about more than anything. Even more than the king, who I'm sworn to protect," beginning quietly, Porthos brushed at my hair to tuck it tenderly behind my ear, but already I was withering and dying inside, for I already knew what his words meant. "You will always be the woman I love most…but I cannot commit to you now that I'm going to war. It would not be fair, not right…you might become a widow before you're even married."
"If it is not you, then there will be no one else, Porthos." Struggling for breath, my fingers curled into the folds of his uniform, even as my nails broke upon the firm leather. "I will die a spinster before I'd marry anyone else. It is you or nothing."
"Don't think like that, there'll be someone else…"
"Never!" I screamed at him, making him veer away slightly from the sound as I felt as if I was beginning to lose my mind. Bitterly, I wondered if this was how Rochefort felt towards Anne. It disgusted me that I might understand that monster in any small way. "Sorry…I am sorry…I did not mean to raise my voice…" dragging air into me, I began to cough. Once I started I could not stop, an incessant scratching clawing at my lungs until I tasted blood in my mouth. Some splattered against the sleeve of my dress and Porthos immediately saw the crimson array.
"Madeleine!" Panic overcame him and he began to rise, stating that he would get a physician but I snatched his hand.
"No, I am alright, please. Stay a moment longer." Overcoming my momentary insanity, I took a few moments to collect myself and conduct my manner with a little more dignity. Straightening myself as much as I was able, I allowed his hand to slip from mine, Porthos returning to kneel before me with concern creasing his handsome features. With my clean hand, I brushed my fingers upon him, smoothing every knot and line until he was more relaxed and I simply gazed at him, committing this moment to memory so that I would never forget it. "Please live," I finally murmured, not wishing to part on such sorrowful terms. "I will be content to be alone for the rest of my life, so long as I know that you are also breathing. Live, Porthos. You must live."
"Madeleine…"
"Please look at me." Catching his chin to keep his head from turning, I forced Porthos to fixate his eyes upon my face. "Look upon me because I want you to remember me. Think of me, even in this state, because I am not ashamed to look like this. I want you to remember what I look like, underneath the wounds and bruises, to remember the colour of my eyes and the shade of my hair. Remember what I endured, and do not think of me as a broken creature, for I am not. Each mark is a testament of my strength…strength which I learned from you." He stared at me, almost as if in awe, as finally Porthos looked at me unblinkingly, and did not turn away. "Remember me, please. If nothing else, please at least think of me from time to time, for I shall think of you always." Thereafter, I could think of nothing more to say.
Whatever his thoughts, Porthos did not share them. I could only watch as he grew tense once more with a deep emotion I could not name, until finally he reached for me. Without a word he lifted me from my seat and carried me the rest of the way to my chambers. He said nothing to the chambermaid, but his bearing must have frightened her for she scurried away hurriedly. Still he was silent as he carried me to my bed and settled me softly upon it, one hand cupping my head and remaining as the other eased away from under my knees. Porthos never spoke a word, not even to say goodbye.
Instead, he continued to look at my face as I had asked, as if he too was committing it completely to memory. The silence remained, even as he leaned over me and pressed his other hand into the covers, bearing his weight as my vision became swallowed entirely by his presence. Porthos remained as silent as stone as his lashes brushed against me when they closed, and I barely had time to inhale a breath before his lips were pressed against mine. He kissed me firmly and in a near ungentle manner, as though the only thread of reason holding him back was the tenderness of my condition and his wish to not further my pain. I would have suffered gladly, and even allowed my fingers to fist into his hair to pull him closer, wanting to devour the taste and feel of him until there was nothing left.
Porthos never spoke another word, not even when we parted, breathless and dazed. I dared not speak, wanting to hold onto the moment for as long as possible as he looked upon me for a final time. Bitterly, I wondered if this was his kiss of farewell, a tender mercy upon my heart so at the very least, it would break whilst retaining a small measure of warmth which belonged solely to him. I began to cry, trembling as I looked upon him, until he could bear it no longer and he left. As the door opened I burst with a sob, weeping freely as I could contain myself no longer, and as the sounds of Porthos' receding steps lingered, my heartbreak grew all the stronger.