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Chapter 6

"Where others have failed, I will not fail."
– Jules Verne -

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Athos slowly made his way through the tunnel ahead of him, cautiously looking behind every bend. The light of the torches creating shadows on the walls, and the relentless dripping of old rainwater played tricks on his mind, but strangely, he didn't feel nervous. The months of restless nights and days filled with fear and wish for quenching his thirst for silencing Grimaud for good seemed to have disappeared. All that mattered now was deep focus and being prepared for anything.

"You will not survive me, Athos!" Grimaud's voice echoed in the tunnel, his figure invisible, though, as the musketeer searched the space with his eyes, holding swords in both of his hands.
"Love… has made you weak," the villain added, followed by a vicious laugh. Athos slowed his pace, taking step after step with utter caution. "Don't you know… every man... dies… alone?"

Despite being watchful, just as Athos got attracted by a shaft of daylight, a sword attacked him from his right, and he managed to block it just in time – unable to prevent it from sinking into his right side in the next moment, though. Surprisingly, he didn't feel any pain. His senses were razor-sharp and ready for battle, raising his pain threshold to the sky. The retaliation was immediate, as his left hand struck with force, stabbing Grimaud in his stomach.
"He doesn't have to live alone," Athos said through his teeth, his focus fully on Grimaud's painful grimace.

What happened then was swift and ruthless on both sides. Both men pulled their swords out of each other's bodies and began a tough fight, a duel long in the making and finally, the time had come to do it or die. After a few heavy hits, Athos threw himself with full force on Grimaud, pushing them both into the wide, shimmering watercourse, with a big splash. It was difficult being injured and fight on dry land, but it was even tougher in the water, with double resistance - from the enemy and the water.

The Captain ignored the injury and put all his strength into attacking as hard as he could, defending himself like a lion. The power of the beast was unleashed once more, and when the crucial time finally came, Athos was prepared: one forceful push back against Grimaud was all he needed to bring his enemy out of focus. His sword immediately pierced Grimaud again, catching him by surprise. They stilled for a beat – both feeling the end was near.

"My favourite part of the battle… is always its end…" Grimaud said, with a smile.
Athos was not interested in wasting any more time and pushed Grimaud underwater, holding him with iron grip of his fists.

Seconds passed, and the amount of bubbles appearing on the water surface was getting smaller, until it stopped and the body which only a few moments ago was alive ceased all the resistance. Athos's breathing was still laboured, but when he realised Grimaud was finally not among the living anymore, it started to slow gradually, until it returned back to normal. The Captain breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes, his hands still on Grimaud's chest under water. The sudden silence entered his head as well, and Athos knew what peace of mind meant at last.

Over… finally over…

It took a couple more minutes until he opened his eyes again and dared to release his grip on Grimaud's dead body. He pulled it out from the water and layed it on the water course ledge. Then, conscious of the pain and fatigue at last, Athos sat down at the nearest wall and leaned his head back. He pressed his hand against his side, feeling a weak trickle of warm blood under his fingers. However, it didn't really matter to him. His soul was finally at peace; the recent constant restlessness and anxiety dissipated in smoke, silenced for good, and brought him a state of mind he had been missing for too long. Suddenly very tired, what he really wished for was to sleep, maybe for a day or two…

The sound of someone's cautious steps approaching made him turn his head. Out of the shadow, d'Artagnan came into the light, his face an image of worry, understanding immediately the course of events preceding his arrival. His elevated heartbeat slowed down, as a relief washed over him. One look at Athos was enough for the Captain to reply.

"It's done," he stated tiredly.

The disbelief on d'Artagnan's face was difficult to wipe out as he slowly sank down to sit on the ground opposite his Captain and dear friend. His eyes kept staring at Grimaud's body as if wanting to be absolutely certain their greatest enemy was truly dead. All the months of chasing after him in vain, all the innocent people who died because of his despicable deeds, all the scares when he struck at the people they loved… Athos finally drew a line after it all.

"We better tie him up," Athos said quietly. "I don't trust him even when he's dead."
D'Artagnan didn't question his friend's decision; Grimaud showed them several times how many lives he had.
"I agree," he replied and got up. Only then did he notice Athos's pressed hand to his side. "Are you hurt?" He knitted his eyebrows with worry.
"Nothing Aramis couldn't patch together again," the Captain replied carelessly.
D'Artagnan decided to believe him, although still a little rattled. "I'll get some ropes."
He walked quickly back into the tunnels, disappearing from sight.

Athos let out a sigh and despite being terribly beaten by fatigue, he forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching the lifeless body of his Nemesis lying on the ledge.
There is no escape for you this time, Grimaud… No more running and hiding, no more terror, no more death...

As Athos regarded Grimaud's face turn ever paler, the image suddenly changed, revealing another face in his mind's eye. His lips curled into a gentle smile. The heavy weight that he carried on his shoulders for months had finally lifted, and his weary heart suddenly felt like soaring.

He couldn't wait to walk into the daylight again - a new life was calling his name.

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"Do you think they might need help?" the Queen asked Aramis while her eyes wandered toward the cathedral again. She was sitting in the carriage, her arms sheltering her son from any possible harm. The Dauphin appeared unafraid and comfortable in his mother's embrace. The carriage was surrounded by musketeers and cadets.

"I am not sure," the musketeer replied hesitantly, hoping to spot his friends any moment. His heart was telling him to follow his comrades but his loyalty to his Captain's orders had him rooted to the spot, keeping the Regent and the heir to the throne of France out of harm's way. His instinct whispered words of hope into his ear, though. "Yet… I have a feeling Athos will not let Grimaud slip away this time."
"I pray to God you are right, Aramis," the Queen breathed. Her eyes fell on the three young women standing nearby.

Constance, Elodie, with her baby in her arms, and Sylvie were trying to remain calm, sharing a few words now and then. However, none of them could resist glancing in the cathedral's way, hoping to see Athos and d'Artagnan emerge from its main door. Porthos stood tall like a tower halfway between the Queen's carriage and Notre Dame, as if deciding whether to stay and guard the Queen or run inside to help his friends.

"Is the pretty woman with the baby a friend of yours? I don't remember ever seeing her in the garrison," the Queen asked with interest, grateful for any distraction from the tense situation. She had visited the musketeers' base only once but heard enough about it to know Constance was the only woman there for a long time.
"Yes, Elodie, she's a…" Aramis hesitated, suddenly unsure what to say, "a close friend of Porthos."
"Close," the Regent repeated, her lips curling into a smile.
Aramis chuckled. "Quite close, I would say. The baby is not his but he helped to deliver it when we were chasing after Grimaud outside of Paris. She followed Porthos to Paris not long after. Elodie is a war widow…"
"Oh," the Queen's smile faded. "How many more women will still have to share the same fate, I wonder?"
"Too many, I'm afraid… until all those responsible for wars will finally understand that want of power is never a justifiable reason for sending innocent lives to slaughter."

His words added even more gravity to the heavy atmosphere of the moment; a dark shadow of sadness fell over both of their faces. The Queen was the first to recover.
"Is the other woman standing next to Constance Sylvie?" she asked, looking at the trio again.
"Yes, that is Sylvie Bodaire, your Majesty," Aramis replied. "She is a good woman, one of honour and a noble heart. She has been of great help to all of us several times."
"Constance told me a bit more about her recently. I know she helped her to protect our…" she stopped, suddenly aware of the surroundings, "to protect the Dauphin. And I know the King wrongly accused her of spreading false rumours about me. I haven't had the chance to speak with her yet. Could you call her, please?"

Aramis smiled and walked away from the carriage for the first time since he had escorted the sovereign and her son to it. He returned with Sylvie by his side. She looked a little surprised and unsure. Nevertheless, she did a small bow resembling a curtsy, then looked into the Queen's sky-blue eyes.
"Your Majesty," she said. Regardless of her warmer attitude toward the Crown in recent days, she wondered why the unofficial ruler of France would want to speak with a commoner like her.
The Queen smiled gently at her, melting the ice of uncertainty immediately.
"Thank you…," were her first words, bringing a puzzled expression onto Sylvie's face, "for standing up for the people of Paris in the worst times and for helping to protect my son."
Sylvie didn't know what to say. She glanced incredulously at Aramis – he was grinning.
The Queen sensed the woman's shock and her smile widened. "A woman unafraid of swordfights suddenly at a loss for words?" she teased.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Sylvie managed to say eventually. "I only did what my conscience told me. There is nothing I wouldn't do for those who can't stand up for or defend themselves."
"And France is grateful for people like you. I hope I'll be able to prove it to you more in the future."
Sylvie finally smiled, her view of the Queen changing rapidly by the minute. In the past, her image of the sovereign was that of a distant authority living closed off in a fancy castle and disinterested in their people. The image she saw now was one of a woman who had been through difficult personal losses and difficulties and became a fellow human being, genuinely caring about her country and its future, closer to her folk more than ever before.
"I am truly sorry about the way you were treated," the Regent apologised, genuine guilt colouring her voice. "I'm afraid I can't give you any excuse for the ordeal you had to go through because of the false accusation. I can only say that I wish it had never happened."
"It wasn't your fault, Majesty. It was a misunderstanding," Sylvie replied graciously, not holding any grudges. "Grimaud proved a tougher and smarter enemy than we all thought. Thankfully, I had someone standing by me," She smiled.
The Queen mirrored her emotion. "I've heard of the Captain's intervention. I would expect nothing less from a man of justice." And in love, she thought to herself.

Sylvie smiled again, but the Queen's warm and friendly way of speaking with her couldn't calm her worried mind. She turned her head toward the cathedral for the hundredth time in the past half an hour, feeling the beat of her heart rising to her throat. Her hand inadvertently cradled her tummy.

Where are they?

Her silent question was answered immediately, as d'Artagnan appeared at the cathedral door, stepping out into the daylight. Forgetting about the royal protocol, Sylvie ran toward the musketeer.
"Grimaud is dead," d'Artagnan stated, with a relieved expression on his face.
Sylvie registered the welcome reality only on the periphery of her mind. She was much more interested in something else.
"Athos?" she breathed, hungry for the most important information.
The corners of d'Artagnan's mouth turned upwards, and he looked over his shoulder.

There he suddenly was: walking slowly but steadily, holding his side and looking very tired, Athos was making his way toward his friends. He saw Porthos growing an inch taller and grinning as he saw his Captain alive. And then a sigh left his throat when he saw Sylvie almost running toward him. He barely managed to open his arms to her when she crushed into his frame, for the second time in two days, making him wince from slight pain but not stepping back.

"Thank God they are both fine!" Constance said with relief and walked briskly to meet her husband. Elodie slowly followed her, smiling.
"I had no idea Athos had a companion until that unhappy incident," the Queen remarked with a wondrous smile. "The Captain is quite an enigma sometimes."
Aramis chuckled. "It's a rather complicated story, but luckily, one with a happy ending."
"God knows we all need some happy ending after everything we have been through in the past years." The Queen's smile faded, her look briefly turning distant.
"Let's hope they have good news for us," Aramis replied, noticing her expression but not daring to dwell on it.

While Porthos listened to d'Artagnan recalling the details of Grimaud's demise, Sylvie pulled back from Athos, relieved and grateful to feel his nearness again.
"I was beginning to wonder…" she started, looking into his eyes as they studied her face.
"…if I allowed Grimaud to open the gates of Hell for me?" Athos finished her thought, amused.
Sylvie frowned and shook her head. "You have no place in Hell. There are enough ill-tempered individuals down there," she added, and her mouth twitched.
Her remark made him chuckle, but seeing her amusement fade, his face turned more serious.
"It's Grimaud who is walking in it right now," he stated. "It's over, for good this time."
"Thank God and you for that."

Sylvie smiled, and her hand reached for his cheek. Suddenly she realised Athos looked quite pale and very tired. She narrowed her eyes, searching for any sign of something more telling to see. Obliging her involuntarily, Athos winced again and his hand covered his side. Sylvie immediately looked down and noticed the blood, seeping through his uniform.

"You're hurt!" she cried, worried, and turned around, looking toward the carriage. "Aramis!"
"I'm all right," Athos tried to calm her down. "I can promise you I will live through this."
"What you will promise me now is to have him look at you and do what he says," Sylvie said sternly, "otherwise I'll send you after Grimaud myself."
Her determination made him smile, warming his heart despite the dull pain in his side. He couldn't resist the urge and kissed her.
"Anything you say," he whispered then, relishing in the sweet feeling of pleasant light-headedness.

"I've always known you can't live without me," Aramis interrupted their tender moment, grinning.
"You better return to your senses, my friend, for they seem to have deserted you," Athos returned the teasing, feigning annoyance.
"Before you two go on in your love talk, have a look at his right side, he's injured," Sylvie told Aramis, her face serious and uncompromising. Good old Sylvie, Aramis thought, amused, do it or die.
"Shirt up," he ordered the Captain.
Athos sighed and did as told.
Aramis examined Athos's stab wound; only a weak trickle of blood was still coming to the skin's surface. Grimaud's blade was sharp but did not cause a life-threatening injury.
"You are lucky," he said then. "It seems Grimaud wasn't as good a swordsman as I thought. He missed your vital organs. I'll need to clean the wound, stitch it up and bandage it but…" He straightened himself up and looked into the Captain's eyes, grinning. "You will live."
Athos glanced at Sylvie, raising his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes and chuckled. She put Athos's cloak over his shoulders; he had dropped it on the ground at their reunion.
"I need to report to the Queen," the Captain stated, pulling his cloak tighter, feeling the chill of the winter day creeping into his bones.

They all walked toward the royal carriage, on the way joining d'Artagnan, Constance, Porthos and Elodie. When Athos approached the carriage, he made a bow – a slightly less graceful one, due to his injury.
"The danger is over, your Majesty. Grimaud is dead and you and the Dauphin are safe again," he said solemnly.
The Queen sighed in relief, then replied after a pause. "Safe… for how long I wonder…"
Athos eloquently lowered his eyes, not answering. They both knew there would always be those posing a threat to the Crown. The question was only when and how they would appear next.
"France is in your debt, Captain. You have our gratitude, both of you," she nodded to d'Artagnan, who returned her gesture. "You have proved again that Treville chose a worthy successor to lead the musketeers."
Now it was Athos's turn to nod, in grateful acknowledgement.
"And now let Aramis help you," the Queen said then, smiling. "I believe you are in need of his attention." Her smile turned cheeky as she glanced at the group behind the Captain's back. "And of someone else's."

Athos didn't need to turn around to understand. His lips curled involuntarily as sparks returned to his warm eyes.
"Your Majesty." He bowed and retreated from the carriage, suddenly feeling revived by the cold breeze caressing his cheeks.

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