Four years. That was how long the war had continued, and still there was no sign that it would soon be over. Four long years of waiting, hoping, yet gradually even the hope which had burned brightly in the beginning was fading. Time was both a friend and an enemy, as four years of heartbreak was a bitter thing, but even that too had dulled into a small ache in a hidden corner of my heart. I diverted my focus upon other things, for occupation helped to distract me, and I threw myself into my duties the moment I was recovered enough to walk.
It had taken a long time for my body to recover from the torture Rochefort had inflicted upon me. The scars never faded, and if I wished to hide them all then I would have to wear exceedingly conservative clothing. In a fit of despair shortly after my brother and the others had departed, I had shaved my head as an act of devotion to God and prayed for their safety, meaning that alongside the mottled tones of my skin, I was as clean shaven as a newborn. After four years, however, my hair had regrown and it was in fact healthier and fuller than it had been. The dull and indistinct shade was now a soft, natural brown with rushes of lighter hues which shone like threads of gold under the sunlight.
My face healed of its cuts and bruises, my body recovering itself so that these long years after its mistreatment, the only evidence that remained were the scars, and even those I wore with pride. Having restored myself, I consolidated my position in court, for now my name carried a certain authority and no small measure of respect. I had not been ashamed to display my wounds openly, forcing everyone to see what I had endured and survived, and after they recovered from their horror, my resolve and strength of will established myself as someone who would not be easily broken.
In that time, I used the authority to take command of the queen's household and managing little Louis's also. I took Marguerite's place as the Royal Governess, raising the child and teaching him once he was old enough to begin lessons. He was a dear, darling little boy, and I loved him as sincerely as though he were my own. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to spoil him rotten. I found contentment in my life, a tender happiness I could survive upon, even through the daunting worries for those who fought in the war. I wrote to Athos often, but his replies were infrequent and he did not tell me of anything relating to battle or loss. It was his way of protecting me, but I often knew of his regiment's movements, for I worked closely alongside Treville and Constance.
She left Anne's service to manage the garrison whilst its captain and Treville were absent, and I took steps to help organise the city in whatever way I could as refugees flooded the streets, seeking sanctuary and protection from the war as it continued to rage upon the innocent. Were it not for the ineffective command of our newest adversary at court, the king's own illegitimate half-brother, Phillipe de Feron, named Governor of Paris and the new Commander of the Red Guard by Louis. I verily disliked the man, and we often clashed with one another in matters of state and authority. He did not like the fact that a woman such as I carried such influence with many, more so that I often reprimanded him for his poor control over his own men.
They caused strife and suffering amongst the people, acting like barbarians as they swaggered with all the arrogance of men who thought they were untouchable. I readily sought to set them straight, and was no stranger to having a guard or two arrested for improper use of force. A direct line of contact was established, allowing complaints and qualms to be brought to my attention, and I acted as the queen's agent with Anne's full support, allowing me to sometimes overturn an improper arrest and ensure that the proper perpetrators were brought to justice.
I could not have done so without Treville, and it became commonplace for us to meet only to discuss Feron's behaviour and how he was poisoning the city with his inadequate management. Part of me was convinced that he was doing so purposefully, but I was yet to find any substantial proof. It irked me to no end, but at least we were locked in a stalemate, for I would not shift myself to allow him to completely unravel Paris. Sometimes, it felt as if the city were held together by thread and prayer.
The matter was not helped by the fact that Feron had taken to encouraging the red guard and the musketeer cadets to brawl for his own amusement. Constance had been quite agitated about the matter, but I was quite happy to hear of the small measure of payback she and Treville extracted. It was quite ingenious really, humiliating the red guards to undermine their position by locking them out of a bathhouse completely naked and exposed. Part of me wished I had seen it. Yet again, I think I would have been just as mortified to see a naked man, so perhaps it was better I had not.
My own duties kept me occupied, so much so that I was completely unaware of the fact that something had changed until a servant came to find me in my drawing room, attending to my letters both personal and of business. "Pardon the intrusion, comtesse, but I thought you would like to know," the girl spoke with an air of excitement, so I smiled to her as I looked up from my latest letter to Ninon.
"Yes, Cecila?"
"It is the musketeers, your brother and his close comrades…they are returned to the palace!" I stood so abruptly that my chair fell backwards. Cecila squeaked, but giggled sweetly as I staggered forwards, the air leaving me in a rush as I grasped my desk to keep myself steady.
"What?! Where are they, Cecila? Tell me quickly!"
"I saw them, comtesse, with Minister Treville, they were going to the governor's office, I'm sure…shall I ask them to come to you?"
"No! I cannot wait for that, I will go to them directly," halting only to kiss the girl upon the cheek, I then sprinted without a care for decorum in the direction of Governor Feron's office. I slowed to a swift walk once I approached the doors, two guards stationed outside. "Open the doors." I commanded without pause, continuing to stride towards them with the clear intent of being admitted written across my face.
"The governor is occupied and cannot…"
"You will open those doors or I shall use your heads to break them down!" The guards only had but a moment to respond before I was upon them. Terrified to have their heads used as battering rams, they jumped to push the doors open. Their haste meant that they swung and clashed rather noisily, opening the way for me to rush inside before I halted, gathering my breath as the figures of men I had not seen in four years turned to blink at me. I knew not where to look first, but what surprised me most of all was the image of Aramis standing alongside my brother, Treville and Porthos. Dear God Porthos. My pulse roared like a beast, blood coursing through me with a fiery heat as I looked upon them all but spoke the name which astonished me most. "A-Aramis?" Blinking, I hesitantly took a step towards them, a quiet fear that I was looking upon ghosts, but that first step was all it took before I was sprinting once more.
In a flurry of skirts and uncoiled hair, I ran at my brother who lost the ability to speak, eyes widening as he looked upon me for the first time in those four long, agonising years. When last they had seen me, I had been bruised, battered, wounded and barely recognisable. They did not recognise me now. I could see from their identical expressions that they did not, or at least, had not expected me to appear so whole. All traces of torture had either healed or were hidden, and in these four years I had finally grown into the full bloom of womanhood. Gone were the days of my sickly self, the dark shadows under the eyes, the gaunt cheeks and frail body. I was strong. Perhaps even a little taller, and when I cast myself upon Athos, my weight was enough to stagger him.
For a moment he did not react, too stunned to recover himself, but once he felt my arms tighten around his neck, recognised the presence of my being come upon him, his arms snatched me up into a fierce embrace unlike any other. Tears made themselves known, and I laughingly cried for sheer joy and happiness. Alive. Alive and home. "Dear God, thank you for bringing them back to me," I whispered aloud, not caring at all that Governor Feron was watching, and when Athos allowed me to slide from his grasp so that my feet were on the ground, he took my face into his hands to stare at me in amazement, fingers pulling upon my red-gold hair.
"Is this truly you, Madeleine?"
"As I live and breathe, brother. What, do you not recognise me? I did not think myself so altered," teasing him as my smile spread so wide that my cheeks ached, I then looked to the others. "Aramis, Aramis! You are here! I thought you had retired yourself into the clergy, did it not suit your taste after all?" Squeezing at my brother's hand, I slipped away from him to embrace Aramis who betrayed his elation with a laugh of his own, sweeping me into his arms with a twirl which made me squeal, pressing upon his shoulders to maintain my balance as he beamed at me.
"Sweetest and most glorious Madeleine, as it so happens, the life of a monk was not for me. After all, how could I resist the sweet temptation to look upon your radiance? To look upon you is to see an angel, and what else could bring me closer to God?" Swatting his shoulder and scolding him for being so blasphemous as he set me down, I then pulled him into a sincere embrace which he returned, holding one another as I closed my eyes and revelled in his return. "I am glad to see you so well, Madeleine. It eases my heart to see you restored." Murmuring quietly as he turned his face towards me, I hummed softly as my fingers brushed through his longer hair. All of them had longer tresses, and although they bore evidence of the war, their eyes were bright and warm, just as I remembered them.
"Do not punish yourself any longer, Aramis," speaking only to him so that no one else would hear as he drew away, I held his chin for a moment with a stern but loving expression. "I told you once before that I would never wish to see you in pain, and it stands to this day." Smiling once more, I then let him go. "Welcome home." Last of all, I turned to Porthos. A crash of feelings and swelling emotions came upon me like a wave which almost knocked me backwards. He looked at me as if he did not know me, as if I were a stranger to him, and this hurt more than even if he had expressed anger or indifference. "Porthos?" Faltering a little, I made towards him, uncertain if I would be welcome considering our parting.
Time had dulled the hurt I had felt at his parting, and I had buried the feelings I possessed to shield myself from the anguish they presented in his absence. Seeing him again gave rise to those old feelings, but after the wave had receded I returned to feeling a calm nothingness, one I was immensely grateful for. "Porthos," I spoke again, this time walking towards him as he continued to stare blankly. "Do you not recognise me either? Has it truly been so long that you would forget my face? Come now, I am Madeleine. You cannot have forgotten me, surely." Teasing him, I tapped a finger against his brow to awaken him. He blinked. Arching my eyebrow expectantly, I folded my arms until Porthos regained his speech.
"You're…you look…" Well, perhaps not entirely. Still seemingly at a loss for words, Porthos began to raise his hand towards me without realising what he was doing. When he saw his own hand had moved, he froze, looking uncertain and even a little afraid. The slightly distant attitude I bore perhaps unsettled him, and now he looked as if he would much rather be back on the battlefield than here facing me. A pulse of endearing nostalgia touched me, softened by the sweet helplessness Porthos possessed, so I endeavoured to take pity on him.
Taking his hand, I brushed my thumb against his palm before bringing it upon my head, allowing it to rest against my hair and settle as I felt the familiar weight of his hand. If ever I became blind, I would know Porthos solely by this gesture. My invitation seemed to help raise Porthos from his stupor, for after a moment of hesitation, he gently rubbed at my head. Not as vigorously or playfully as in the past, but still a repeat of the gesture which existed solely between us. "Madeleine." Almost gasping my name, I was suddenly crushed by Porthos and his strong arms which snatched me up, holding me against his chest until I had not the room to breathe. I allowed myself to suffocate for just a little while.
"How very touching, one could almost weep," drawling with a snide sarcasm, the heartfelt reunion was momentarily ruined by Governor Feron's indelicate interruption. "However as I was saying, the world has changed since you musketeers…"
"Hold your tongue, sir." Speaking over him, Feron blinked in surprise as Porthos let me down gently and I turned a forceful scowl upon the governor. "As you can see, this is a family affair. It is rude to interrupt." The men gaped at me for being so bold, but I made no apology for my frankness. Governor Feron was quite used to it by now, and after recovering from his astonishment, his lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line, but did not argue.
"Then perhaps you had best take your family affair elsewhere." The suggestion was a welcome one, and so I grasped at my brother's hand to draw him and the others away. Treville fought to hide his amusement, and once the door had closed behind us, barked with laughter.
"Only you would be so bold as to scold the governor in his own office, little one," knocking his knuckle under my chin lightly, my gaze danced with mirth as I continued to hold Athos by the hand.
"But of course, I am known for it." Looking between their faces, my brow tugged together for a moment. "Is d'Artagnan…?"
"Gone to see his wife," Athos assured me, so I let my mind rest easy. We looked at one another, unable to find the words to justify how we each felt, until it became clear that there simply were none. I pulled Athos back into my arms, holding him fiercely before extending my arm towards Aramis and Porthos, inviting them into the fold as well. Not for the first time, I wished my arms were longer that I might hold them all effortlessly within my embrace, but somehow we managed to hold one another in such a way that I was able to feel all three of them in some manner.
"Thank God…" I whispered with all the gratitude I possessed. "Thank God you are safe…you are home…thank God…thank God…" weeping softly, the next few minutes were spent with them wiping away my tears even as I laughed, overwhelmed by pure elation that the four year separation was finally over. They were to be stationed in Paris once again for the foreseeable future, meaning that I would be able to see them whenever I would like. Athos held me longest of all, and I even felt a droplet of warmth drip upon my neck which betrayed his own feelings. Even as he held me, my eyes drifted towards Porthos.
A strange tug pulled at my chest, like a mournful cry of loss and longing I could no longer voice. I had buried my emotions to protect myself from them, and they had rested so long they remained locked in a tender sleep. I looked at him, indulging myself for just one moment before finally I looked away. I would put such notions to rest, as I had with Aramis. Porthos had made himself clear four years ago and I intended to honour his decision. He did not love me as I had him, and so I reconciled myself to growing an old spinster, for I would keep to my word. If it was not Porthos, then there would be no other man.
Such was the depth and ardour of my affections, unreturned as they were.