Felice immediately rose to her feet. "Oh my, the king, yes!" She gasped, forgetting her hot chocolate. "Excuse me!" She brushed passed Athos and rushed up the stairs to Athos's room.
"Charles!" Felice shook D'Artagnan's shoulders. "Charles, wake up!"
"Wha-huh? Felice, what's wrong?" D'Artagnan asked.
"It's time to wake up! Have you forgotten? We are to meet with his majesty today. We must clean up, if we want to look our best!"
"That's not for a few hours yet." D'Artagnan mumbled, hiding his sleepy face back into his arm. "We have...plenty of time." He yawned and closed his eyes again.
"Charles!"
"Out of that bed, boy!" Porthos's loud voice boomed as he waltzed inside the room. "I will not be associated with the likes of you, if you have the audacity to keep the king waiting, and I lose my station for your tardiness!"
"Aagghh…." D'Artagnan grunted groggily. Porthos gave his shin a light kick. "Hey!" D'Artagnan groaned.
"Up, boy!" Porthos huffed.
"Oh, Porthos. Go away," D'Artagnan waved him off.
"Up, D'Artagnan." Athos's calm but stern, baritone voice spoke from the doorway. D'Artagnan quickly leaned up on his side, rubbing his eyes. "Get yourself ready for breakfast. Then you shall make yourself presentable."
"Aye." D'Artagnan yawned.
"Give them some privacy, Porthos." Athos said.
"Yes, yes. My apologies." Porthos bowed and shuffled out with Athos.
"Is there no such thing as common courtesies on this floor of the house or what?" Felice grumbled. "Since we have been in this place, there has not been one time where I've seen one of them knock before barging into our room!"
"Athos's room, actually." D'Artagnan corrected her sleepily. Then he heard the door locking. He frowned, looking up. Felice patted the door she had just secured. "Felice, what are you doing?" He asked, stupefied.
"I will not be caught unawares while changing from my shift!" Felice replied curtly, staring at him as if he had two heads. Wasn't it obvious?
"I am sure they are just accustomed to coming and going as they please," D'Artagnan said reassuringly.
"I'm not taking any chances." Felice said firmly. She thought of the few moments she'd had alone with Aramis downstairs. It had been awkward but engaging, if not genial. He had not in any way approached her or suggested anything inappropriate, and had respected her much needed space in the small room.
But the way Porthos just kept showing up without knocking both last night and this morning, then Athos, what were the chances of them doing it again, intentionally or not, at the wrong moment? The mere thought made her stomach tighten, especially about Aramis. He was considerate and, so dashing. The idea of him, such a handsome man, accidentally seeing her in her underclothes...would he respect her and leave her to her privacy? Or...would he be so caught up in the moment that he might...might…surely he wouldn't do that! But she still barely knew him. She had been fully clothed when Rochefort had looked at her so darkly, and yet it had made her feel completely exposed before all. She couldn't let that happen again!
"Darling," D'Artagnan sighed, rising to his feet, groaning from soreness as he did, "I'm telling you, you're safe here. How much stronger can I put it?"
"You don't understand." Felice shook her head. D'Artagnan ran his hands through his hair.
"Go dress." He said resignation. Felice stared at her feet.
"There is no changing screen." She pointed out.
"Well, once we find a place of our own, I promise we'll purchase one." D'Artagnan said. Athos was a single man, D'Artagnan reasoned, and used to dressing at his own leisure and most likely didn't see the need for a dressing screen, as none of his compatriots would think of entering his room unless he bid them. He turned his back to give Felice some privacy.
D'Artagnan walked over to the small mirror and puffed at his reflection. "Well, this won't do." He looked at his baggy, dingy shirt, and his unruly hair.
After they broke fast, Aramis checked D'Artagnan's hurts again and tended his arm. "I think you're going to mend just fine." Aramis said with relief after checking his gunshot wound, and not finding any internal damage from the kicks to the gut.
"Good then." D'Artagnan said casually, starting to rise from his chair.
"Not so fast." Aramis shoved him back down. "I am not finished changing the dressing, you Gascony rascal. And let those bruises heal. No fights today! Understand?"
"No promises." D'Artagnan said naughtily. Felice reentered from the stables.
"Well, Buttercup seems quite content." She mentioned.
"That's good to know." D'Artagnan smiled. Felice turned her attention to Athos.
"Do you think the king will be wrathful, considering the brush with the scoundrels yesterday?" She asked nervously.
"If Captain de Treville has not spoken to him in our defense first, then yes, I imagine he shall be quite displeased." Athos answered gruffly. Felice gulped.
"Don't listen to old Athos, lass." Porthos laughed. "He is pulling your leg."
"What?" Felice frowned.
"We have these interrogations more often than not, thanks to the Cardinal's thugs." Porthos explained. "The king normally is on our side, so you can stop worrying."
"I only wish I had more proper attire." D'Artagnan sighed.
"I would offer you of my own wardrobe, sir, but I do not believe they would suffice to your much scrawnier size." Planchet told him.
"Thank you, Planchet. That's very generous of you." D'Artagnan grinned.
"There now." Aramis said, after tying off the new bandage on D'Artagnan's arm. "Well then, I suggest we all freshen up."
D'Artagnan shook his head, looking in the mirror. He looked like a frump in his country clothes, compared to the dashing suits of the other musketeers. He certainly did not look brave or valiant. He had one redeeming fact though: at least his clothes were clean and pressed, courtesy of Planchet. Well, these would have to do.
"Do I look alright?" Felice asked. D'Artagnan turned to face her. She was wearing her finest dress, a silk rose colored gown with small ribbons and tiny rosettes. It was quite simple, and not the kind of dress one would think of traveling to the palace in. She wore a twisted braid bun at the top of her head and let some loose, auburn waves lay on her shoulders.
"Better than me!" D'Artagnan nodded.
"You look like a Gascon." Felice smiled proudly.
"For once, I do not know if that will be enough." D'Artagnan said nervously.
"It was more than enough for Captain de Treville, remember? If he recommends you, the king will surely accept you as one of his musketeers." Felice said encouragingly.
"I suppose we shall find out, won't we?" D'Artagnan shrugged.
"Well, well, you don't look half bad." Porthos approved gladly when Felice came downstairs.
"That's a relief." D'Artagnan breathed as he came behind her.
"You, however," Porthos looked at D'Artagnan, "could use some work."
"Afraid it's a little late for that." D'Artagnan replied.
"The lad's right." Athos said. "Well, we are all assembled. To the palace."
"You look lovely, miss." Aramis smiled at Felice.
"Thank you." Felice said quietly, briefly glancing up at his face then to her feet. I hope it is enough!
Both D'Artagnans' were a jumble of nerves. Would King Louis XIII be angry with them? Would he think them the scum of the earth? Would he turn D'Artagnan away? What would he think? The palace was massive as they entered the royal courtyard. D'Artagnan and Felice gazed in awe at the beautifully kept gardens, the enormous windows, and the intricate water fountains. It felt like stepping into a fairy tail...one in which they did not know how their fate would end! They followed Athos to the great doors.
"His majesty's musketeers, at the request of the king." Athos said. The sentries at the doors opened them and they filed inside. Felice gaped at the exquisite interior of the castle, with its red carpets, polished marble floors, and the famous paintings on the walls. She had never seen anything so fancy or breathtaking in her life. D'Artagnan also took in his surroundings, his face flushing with surreal astonishment. He wished his mother could see all of this.
They were ushered into the great hall. They stood single file sideways, waiting for the king. Guards marched into the room and a caller yelled out, "His majesty and lord, King Louis the eighth of France!" Athos, Porthos, and Aramis all bowed the knee, their heads lowered. D'Artagnan followed their example as Felice curtsied. "And his eminence, the first minister of France, and his lord majesty's advisor, Cardinal Armand Richelieu!"
D'Artagnan and Felice ever so slightly stole a quick glance up to the lords they were paying homage to. The Cardinal was garbed in a great red robe that flowed around him like a magnificent wind. He was middle-aged, with a wise countenance. But his eyes...his eyes were stormy as he gazed down on them. King Louis, looked more a teenager than a mature man! He was indeed very young, although he did have a mustache. He had shoulder length honey colored hair, and zealous blue eyes. He was dressed in a dark top hat with a matching cape and his outfit could better describe an ambassador rather than the waistcoat of a royal. He stared down at them curiously.
"A report has reached me of a dis-favorable nature." The king began. "Is it not true that you, my brave musketeers, men of the crown, were witnessed to be fighting with the Cardinal's guards in the Cooper's Yard yesterday?"
"It is true, my lord." Athos answered grimly.
"Mm-hmm! I thought as much." King Louis harrumphed, as if he was trying to sound stern. "Who started it? I would like to know." He stood there with his hands on his hips.
They all shifted uncomfortably. "I...I did, my lord." D'Artagnan said.
"And who might you be, young rogue?"
"D'Artagnan, your majesty."
"D'Artagnan. I have heard of you. From Captain de Treville of the musketeers. He speaks highly of you. You provoked the free for all?"
"If I may speak, your majesty, we were not without provocation." Aramis said contritely.
"Funny. That is not what his eminence says." King Louis pursed his lips. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. What, oh what, am I to do with the lot of you? Brawling with the Cardinal's guards. Humph. That's very bad. What have you got to say for yourselves?"
"We…" D'Artagnan began.
"Humbly beg your pardon, your majesty." Aramis interjected meekly, throwing the little rebel an icy look, don't say anything stupid!
"Yes, yes. I should hope so too. So, tell me, how many were involved in the altercation?" The king inquired.
"There were five of us against forty of them, your majesty." Porthos replied, trying not to reveal the pride in his boast.
"Five against forty?" King Louis gaped. They all stole glances at Felice who blushed. "Please do not tell me that you sturdy warriors encouraged the young lady to participate in the brawl!"
"Begging your pardon, your majesty, but I am afraid it was most unavoidable." Felice interrupted quietly. "I assure you, it was purely in self defense, at least for my part."
"Most cowardly, if you ask me," the Cardinal said haughtily, "Tossing a female into a street fight. It shows very low, vulgar character."
So does a captain of the guard who plays dirty in a duel, and goes around molesting young ladies! D'Artagnan bit his lip angrily.
"As I said, your majesty...it was unavoidable." Felice said stiffly, clenching her skirts. No small thanks to your men, your high and mighty eminence! The ones who serve you are the true criminals!
"I see." King Louis nodded. "That was a dangerous move, on all your parts." He scolded Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan. "Don't tell me, miss, that you have ambitions to become a musketeer as well?"
"Nay, your majesty!" Felice looked up at the king. "That is my brother's calling. I am Felice D'Artagnan. Our father was a musketeer himself. I came to become a baker, not a fighter."
"A baker? A baker, you say? That is splendid! We could always use more of them now, can't we?" King Louis rambled.
"Ahem, your majesty? Back to…" The Cardinal groaned.
"Ahh, yes! As I was saying, five against forty? And you beat them like a drum?" The guards snickered, as did Porthos. The king cleared his throat, struggling to regain some form of discretion. "And, uh, yes, you shall have to be reprimanded of course, most harshly, I'm afraid. You do understand that, don't you?"
"We do, your majesty." Athos said.
"Her majesty, the queen!" The caller announced. They all looked toward the grand staircase. A small woman in a lavish velvet gown that swallowed her up descended gracefully. She was fair of complexion with golden ringlets and soft gray eyes. She wore a jeweled tiara and chain that graced her neck. She was altogether most lovely.
"Anne, wh-what a pleasant surprise!" The king stammered, with a delighted smile on his face.
"My ladies and I wanted to see the valiant musketeers who stood against the Cardinal's guards." Queen Anne said proudly in a genteel voice. "Five against forty! Or was it four hundred?"
"Just forty, your majesty. It was an off day." Athos remarked sarcastically, earning laughter throughout the room...except from the Cardinal who looked quite vexed.
"That's my musketeers for you. By the time they write songs about them, it will be four thousand." King Louis chuckled. Queen Anne and her ladies giggled, batting their eyes at the musketeers. D'Artagnan glanced up, eyeing one of the girls closely, the one in a silk bluish-green gown with her blonde hair twisted in an exquisite bun. She gave him a coy smile then stared ahead again. D'Artagnan smiled wistfully, staring at her. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. He nearly lost his footing as he knelt until Aramis nudged him in the side with his elbow, reminding him to keep focused.
Before this day is over, I will learn her name! D'Artagnan promised himself.
Felice also noticed the girl. Isn't that the same girl who-She stole a peek at her brother, who looked as if he was a million miles away from this place. Yup. It's her alright. Oh, good grief. Not only has my hot-tempered brother nearly gotten us killed before we even arrived in Paris, but now he is already twitterpated! Oh, Lord. I can see what a challenge this is going to be!
"I hope you won't be too harsh with them." Queen Anne said to the king. She approached the two Gascons. "You must be D'Artagnan. My lady in waiting has told me about how brave and dashing you were yesterday." D'Artagnan's eyes lit up as he looked again at the fair lady who'd already sent his heart aflutter. "But you must try not to be so reckless." Queen Anne said firmly.
"Can't help myself, your majesty." D'Artagnan admitted. Queen Anne then looked to Felice.
"And you?"
"I was pulled into it, your majesty, more or less. Guilty by association, as it were." Felice eyed her brother annoyingly.
"Well, it is a relief to know that a female wandering the streets is able to handle herself among such thuggish acts."
"If it please the queen."
"Well, we shall see about employing you to our personal baker an an apprentice, if you meet the qualifications."
"Oh! Merci, your majesty!" Felice beamed. "I will not disappoint you!"
"Your majesty, the culprits…" The Cardinal puffed at the grinning king.
"Ahh, yes. Yes." King Louis sighed. "Well, stand up then!" He approached his warriors." Athos, Porthos, Aramis...wh-rather under-dressed, aren't we, D'Artagnan?
"Our father is a poor man, your majesty. These are the only clothes I have." D'Artagnan answered, feeling every eye in the room scrutinizing him.
"Good l-! We shall have to rectify that! Can't have my musketeers, or the son of one, looking like tramps. New suits all around, I think." King Louis declared. Everyone gaped at him in surprise. The Cardinal's face went scarlet. "Yes, and a proper dress for the young lady. You will see to that, Cardinal. And uh, a purse of gold for each, as a reward for your courage. You will see to that as well, Cardinal. Oh, yes! Before I forget, no more fighting with his Eminence's guards. Or there will be none of them left."
"Your majesty, might I suggest a more…" The Cardinal said politely through gritted teeth.
"Forgive my impudence, Cardinal," Queen Anne interrupted him,"but I doubt my husband requires your advice in this matter. After all, they are his musketeers. Good day, gentlemen. Good day, miss." She took her leave, the blue-eyed damsel following, but not without throwing D'Artagnan a small smile. He sighed happily. Felice sighed.
"Well, now. Off with you rascals! But, uh, be there for the parade tomorrow. New suits and all." King Louis reminded them.
"I can't believe it!" Felice exclaimed when they ventured out into the courtyard. "The queen herself-the queen!-will recommend me! I must write Mother and Father of this right away!"
"She's wonderful…" D'Artagnan breathed.
"She is." Felice agreed.
"I, uh, believe the lad has another lady on his mind." Porthos snickered. They all saw the lovesick puppy dog look on D'Artagnan's face.
"Oh, mon deui." Felice groaned.
"Did you see the way she looked at me?" D'Artagnan asked excitedly. "She remembered me!"
"Who couldn't, with the ruckuses you go about stirring up?" Aramis teased.
"She actually smiled at me!"
"Is that all that can be whirling around in that hard head of yours just now?" Athos asked D'Artagnan flatly.
"Do you think she likes me?" D'Artagnan was positively giddy, so much so that he didn't look where he was going and tripped over the stone slab into the water fountain. The guards around fussed at him, rapidly swearing and complaining in fluent French. D'Artagnan blushed a deep red and tried to shrink himself smaller into his baggy, water-logged clothes as he climbed out. Aramis, Porthos, and Felice laughed heartily.
Athos shook his head, with a small grin. "As I said before, blind and deaf."