Yes, I'm writing more of Gaston and Lissa. I'm working on the next chapter. As well as trying to update my other stories.
D'Artagnan was enormously frustrated. Why couldn't these hounds just leave them be? He wanted to get back home, and wasn't really in the mood to fence the guards in the cold rain. But worst of all, they were frightening his sister! "Keep walking." He whispered firmly to Felice. He held his head high and squaring his shoulders, he marched straight ahead as if he didn't give the blackguards the slightest regard.
Felice tried to follow his lead, but her throat had dropped into her stomach. All of her previous resolve from making up with D'Artagnan had frozen. Will we never be free of them? She cringed with fright. You're a Gascon! Be brave, like Charles.
"Going somewhere, short stuff?" Jusaac sneered, blocking their path and his cronies followed in suit.
"Kindly let us through." D'Artagnan said stiffly.
"We have unfinished business, or do you not remember that?"
"I do." D'Artagnan nodded. "But you have caught us at a most inconvenient time. Perhaps we could settle this on the morrow, perhaps for the king's entertainment?"
"Oh, I believe this is perfect timing." Jusaac mentioned. His men laughed.
"Look, we would just like to retire for the night. If you don't mind?"
"Oh, I would be most happy to assist in your desire." Jusaac smirked, beginning to pull out his sword.
"Hold it right there." D'Artagnan warned him, and Jusaac found the young Gascon's sword pointed at his own throat.
"You have a lot of spunk, young Gascon. But that will not save you now. There are only two of you, and twenty of us." Jusaac bragged. Felice was clutching her sword hilt with white knuckles.
God, help us! She pleaded in her mind.
"You'd better hope that you brought enough! You're going to need them, Monsieur." D'Artagnan hissed at Jusaac.
"Oh, I think I have more than enough!" Jusaac laughed.
"I wouldn't be so sure." A low, deep voice rumbled from behind Jusaac. A horse's head snorted right in Jusaac's ears and he backed away in astonishment.
Felice's heart lept. Her prayer had been answered! "Athos?!" She cried.
"Care to press your luck?" Athos prodded Jusaac.
"You will be the ones needing luck." Jusaac answered.
"What kind of knight threatens a lad and young lass tending to their own business, taking a stroll through the city, and in unfavorable weather?" Athos asked in a commanding tone.
"Fugitives you mean."
Porthos and Aramis were sneaking around behind the soldiers who had their eyes trained on Athos. "Bloody fools." Porthos chuckled to himself under his breath. "Oui! What's that?!" He yelled out, pointing toward the roof of one of the tall lodges towering over them. The soldiers followed his direction.
"Look! Over there!" Aramis added, pointing down the street.
"Attack!" Jusaac commanded.
"On guard!" Athos bellowed, dismounting his horse with surprising, fluid agility for a man of such robust build.
D'Artagnan went straight for Jusaac who returned the parry mutually. He was an excellent marksman of course, but he was no Gascon. D'Artagnan had a more slightly frame and faster reflexes. He dove under Jusaac, throwing his legs under the soldier's and twisting. Jusaac dropped to the slippery cobblestone, but then he landed a slash cross D'Artagnan's shoulder. D'Artagnan growled in pain. That made him angrier, and he went for Jusaac's side, below his rib-cage but the man blocked him.
Porthos was butting heads and harshly bruising kneecaps of the men near one of the walls. Who needed swords when one had iron fists and heels?
Felice scrambled up the top of a wagon transporting barrels of ale. A couple soldiers grabbed at her ankles, and caught her. She shrieked, whirled around and gave them some seething slashes across the arms, which aided in her release. But the men kept coming at her even as she attempted to climb higher. Shifting to the empty driver's seat, she pushed the lever, the back of the wagon flew open, the barrels rolled down and onto the street, dismantling the footing of anyone caught in their path. Athos jerked D'Artagnan away before he could get crushed by one as it rolled along and knocked Jusaac out instead.
Guards charged Athos and D'Artagnan, but both men made quick work of them. D'Artagnan hurried to the wagon to give his sister a hand while Athos cut down a soldier that was about to stab Aramis in the back-Aramis was facing off three other guards and unaware of the potential danger.
Jusaac, dazed from being grazed in the head by an ale barrel, staggered to his feet. "Bring in the reinforcements!" He ordered. One of the men nodded and blew a horn. More Cardinal's guards rushed into the square. "Kill the musketeers! Take the Gascons!" Jusaac bellowed, his head whirling with frustration and grueling pounding.
Athos, Porthos, and Aramis fought harder, but the rain was making it difficult to see and the dusk's light was waning. "Please tell me you have a plan!" Felice whispered worriedly to D'Artagnan. He slit the straps of the horses' harness connecting them to the wagon, setting them free. The steeds ran around the square, startling the guards. D'Artagnan hopped down from the wagon.
"Come on!" He called to Felice. She decided to obey, even if his idea was crazy. So, she also dismounted the wagon. He started running and threw her another end of the long rope he'd cut from the vehicle. She caught it and ran parallel to him, and they darted straight for the guards. The cobblestones were slick from the rain, it was a wonder they were not tripping around. The guards laughed at them.
"Come on, lads!" Jusaac called, and charged the two teenagers.
"No, you don't!" D'Artagnan smirked. He and Felice hoisted the rope at waist length, causing the guards to ram themselves into it, the rope digging into their bodies and making them flail onto the ground. More guards tried their luck, amused at the stupid audacity of these country kids. Felice and D'Artagnan tugged hard on the cord, which led to a chain reaction of guards stumbling and tripping over their own feet and each other.
Porthos stood in the rain laughing. This time, Felice and D'Artagnan both slipped and fell on the wet ground, bringing down more Cardinal's men with them. Some of them limped away, but others surrounded the Gascons before they could get back to their feet. They pressed D'Artagnan down to the ground, just like in Meung, with the rain pounding down directly into his face, stinging his eyes. They pulled Felice to her feet and held her back firmly. She thrashed with all her might.
"Let me go! Let me go!" She yelled. "Get your hands off him!" Jusaac stood there smugly. Suddenly, the men's grips loosened from her arms and they dropped to the ground. She snatched up her sword and lunged at the men holding D'Artagnan down. As did Athos. Aramis and Porthos were fighting off the remaining men while D'Artagnan watched Jusaac flee.
"Coward!" D'Artagnan growled, scrambling to his feet. The remaining soldiers raced after Jusaac. Felice was shaking, and Porthos was checking the men on the ground to ascertain if anyone was still alive.
"All clear?" Athos asked.
"All clear." Porthos boasted.
"You two are not hurt?" Aramis asked.
"Not much." D'Artagnan shrugged.
"You're bleeding, you little fool." Athos said dryly. D'Artagnan wished he hadn't said that! Now that they reminded him of his wound and the rush of survival wasn't pumping through his system, the pain hit.
"We'd best get you to a doctor." Aramis pointed out.
"Nah. I'll be-ahh! O...kay." D'Artagnan gritted his teeth, and holding his bloodied shoulder.
"So it would seem." Athos shook his head. "Are you injured, lass?" He looked down at Felice.
"N-nothing serious." Felice shivered.
"Well, they will both come down with pneumonia if we stay out here. Let's get them home." Aramis suggested.
"I will fetch the doctor." Porthos said.
"Right." Athos agreed.
"Thanks for the hand, fellas, but we're not small children who have to be escorted whenever we leave the house!" D'Artagnan said.
"Oh. You're not, eh?" Porthos laughed.
"Athos, how...how did you come to…" Felice panted.
"You challenged Rochefort. I suspected he might cook up some scheme to catch you unawares." Athos explained. "He could always have the Cardinal cover his story, claiming that some citizens sent for him, saying that you two were committing some crime. And that he acted completely in the line of duty. So, I had Planchet follow you and report back on anything suspicious. A little after the rain started, he returned saying that the guards were approaching the direction of headquarters. So, my hunch was not in error after all."
"Whatever you thought might happen...Merci! Merci." Felice smiled tiredly.
"Aye." D'Artagnan nodded, even if he did look embarrassed.
All of them had changed into dry, warm clothes by the time Porthos came with the doctor. Thankfully, he had just returned to his office when Porthos arrived. The physician treated D'Artagnan's cut on his shoulder, which turned out to be a mere flesh wound, and cleaned his cuts and bruises, as well as Felice's. Once he sent them out, he checked Athos's injured shoulder. The musketeer was well known throughout the medical folk of Paris, and the doctor knew from Captain de Treville that Athos had recently been hurt.
"If he has lost proper use of his arm because he came to help us…" Felice fretted.
"Calm down, lass." Porthos mildly scolded. "Athos will be fine."
"If what Jusaac gave me is anything close to what Athos has been feeling the passed day, then I can understand why he was so gruff when I unintentionally bumped his wound!" D'Artagnan remarked as he drank some warm tea.
"Welcome to the musketeers, lad." Porthos teased him. "You will be the talk of the musketeers tomorrow. Again."
"Is it true, you two rascals fended them off with a rope?" Planchet asked.
"It's true." D'Artagnan nodded.
"Brilliant! Who would have ever thought?"
Felice hardly noticed the praise being given them. She prayed that Athos was not badly hurt, on their account! He'd looked out for them. Why? Why else would he do that? Because he'd been afraid for their safety! The guards' behavior had been a spine-tingling deja vu. She clenched her tea cup, but hardly drank it.
"Felice, you alright, love?" Aramis asked quietly. Felice didn't answer. He touched her hand. "Felice-"
She startled. "W-what?" She sputtered, confused.
"I didn't mean to frighten you." Aramis apologized. "Are you alright? You're not becoming ill, are you?"
"No." Felice groaned. Not in the way you're thinking, sir! "It's been a long day." She whispered.
"That it has." Aramis smiled. "You both need your rest. We can't have you oversleeping, and cause us to grieve his majesty by being late."
"Oh, mon deui! The parade tomorrow!" D'Artagnan gasped. "It had completely slipped my mind!"
A parade? That means the Cardinal's guards will be present! And we shall have to endure their company! I do not wish to go. If not for them, I would be thrilled. Felice told herself. But the king commands it, and we are his musketeers. 'We'? Yes, 'we'. How did I ever get pulled into this?
"Well, do not expect me to dawdle around waiting for you, if you do not rise on time." Porthos told D'Artagnan "I am greatly looking forward to a new suit, which will put the rest of your ugly hides to shame. Well, save you, lass. Mark my words, I shall be the most dashing musketeer in the crowd!"
"Well, you'll be the loudest, no denying that." D'Artagnan retorted.
"Don't come crawling to me for lady wooing advice then." Porthos huffed.
"I don't need it." D'Artagnan said smugly. The doctor entered the dining room with his kit slung over his shoulder.
"Well, goodnight." He bowed. "Monsieur Athos will be sore for another day, but his wound is already beginning to scab over. Keep those cuts clean. And you, young fellow," he shook his index finger at D'Artagnan, "stop being such a daredevil!"
"You're wasting your breath, sir. Mother and Father gave up telling him that years ago!" Felice spoke up.
"His foolishness will be on his own head then." The doctor sighed. "Keep your stitches dry, young sir. I shall have another look at it in three days." Aramis rummaged through his pockets, preparing to pay the doctor. "No need, Monsieur. Monsieur Athos has already given me my wages. Well, goodnight." He let himself out.
Athos came into the room. "Planchet, I need a drink." He said.
"Right away, sir." Planchet bowed.
"How is your shoulder, Athos?" Felice asked.
"Proficient with army blades, thank you." Athos grunted, with a small smile as he sat down.
"You see? I told you Athos would be fine." Porthos mentioned.
D'Artagnan explained how they'd come to the run in with the guards. "I believe it would be best if one of us accompanied either of you at all times." Aramis said.
"That's not-" D'Artagnan began to protest.
"It is." Athos cut him off. D'Artagnan slouched in his chair.
"Whatever you say," he sulked.
"I think it's time we got some sleep." Felice said.
They'd seen Buttercup, and were now getting into bed. "So, you were right." Felice mumbled. "It truly is safer here."
"Try not let this shock you, but I do know what I am talking about once in a while." D'Artagnan teased.
"Well, I am not about to interject with you on this again."
"Really?"
"Stop, Charles. I am serious about this." Felice glared at him.
"I'm listening." D'Artagnan nodded.
"I never expected Athos to try and protect us like that." Felice shook her head. "But I would be lying if I said I was not greatly relieved when he showed up! When I saw him, and Porthos, and Aramis, I...I knew we were safe. Or at least, I knew we stood a better chance of coming out alive."
"Are you questioning my skills as a swordsman? Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, sister." D'Artagnan flopped on his back.
"Charles."
"Sorry."
"I...I feel safer here, than I would at Captain de Treville's hotel."
"You do?" D'Artagnan bolted up.
"Did you see the way those men were sniggering at me?"
"I did. But I don't think they would actually do anything, without your consent."
"That's easy for you to say. You are a man. You don't understand what a girl feels like after she's been treated that way from ruffians."
"True. I am sorry."
"But, Charles? I'm thankful we're safe, here...for the time being." Felice said.
"I'm glad." D'Artagnan smiled. "Well, we need to go to sleep. I can hardly wait to see my new suit!"
Alright. So, D'Artagnan and Felice got a bit put off in the fight. I know they're the main characters, but they can't always win every fight, you know. And or can't always get out unscathed.
If you think Felice is just a weak, weepy girl, please don't give up on her. Please keep reading. You might be surprised by the time we get to the end of the story!
You don't mess around with Athos's friends, or his 'kids'!