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Hi...is there anyone still out there?
I can't believe that it's been 4 years since I've updated this story...That being said, I hardly believe there is anyone out there still holding on to the hope of this being finished. If there is, my god, you are totally my hero!
There is no excuse for what I did here...despite how much fun it was to write this series, I moved on to other fandoms and kind of lost interest in this one. I'm sorry for that. It's not something that I'm in the habit of doing and the fact that I left this story unfinished has nagged me ever since.
Thanks to Santiago's work in other shows, I got reminded of how good and special this fandom was (IS!) and how much I love this version of the Musketeers.
Even though I have no hopes that anyone still remembers this story (or is even interested in giving it a second chance) I've decided to pick it back up and give it the ending it deserves. An actual ending.
So...here's a taste of what follows:
The sound of clattering metal horseshoes echoed against the stone-covered ground. “Fetch Captain Treville!” one of the Musketeers shouted as soon as he was within earshot, jumping from his ride before the horse came to a full stop. “Quickly, now!”
Startled from his morning prayers in the small chapel nestled in the middle of a poorly kept garden, the Cardinal turned towards the commotion to offer a disapproving look at the two Musketeers who had busted through the palace's front gates like a pair of damned souls escaping Hell. From their hurried insistent and urgency, he could easily guess that they carried ill news. It almost brought a smile to his face.
“Mind your manners,” Richelieu admonished them both, careful to keep his expression neutral and bored. “You'll wake His Majesty with your overly loud cackling.”
Impertinence and insolence, it would seem, were two of the most defining characteristics in all of Treville's band of ruffians. “Good,” one of the men dared to reply. “His Majesty will want t' hear what we have t'say!”
“Well, if it is that important, let us hear it then,” he commanded, knowing all too well what kind of news those Musketeers were about to report. The Cardinal readied himself to savor the words like a long-awaited delicacy.
The Musketeers looked at each other for a moment, before one of them worked out that an answer was expected. “Begging your pardon, Your Eminence,” he offered with a sly smile that belied any alleged contrivance. “But we report to our Captain...not to you.”
Richelieu felt his blood boil inside at the sheer amount of hubris, lack of decorum, or any respect for his position. He was, after all, the King's right hand. “I shall have you regret tho-”
The Musketeers' attention, however, had moved on from the impending doom the Cardinal was about to inflict on them to the imposing figure walking down the steps of the main house. "Captain!"
~§~
“Puy!” Treville's voice sounded like thunder inside the small courtyard. “Bourges! Where are the rest?” he promptly inquired, clearly expecting eight Musketeers back instead of just two.Dear Lord, were they all gone? Had he lost that many again?“Answer me, soldiers!”
“Sir, we met Porthos and d'Artagnan on the road to the monastery,” Bourges replied promptly, ignoring whatever conversation he'd been previously having with the Cardinal. “Saint-Dié remained behind with cadet Charlie and ordered us back here to report.”
The Musketeers failure to mention either Athos or Aramis was eating at the Captain's heart, but he knew where his priorities needed to be. “On with it, men!... What happened? Where is the rest of the company?” he demanded more brusquely than intended, his growing apprehension making it hard to measure his tone.
Bourges hardened his stance, offering a side glance towards Richelieu. “There was an ambush, Sir. They managed to overcome their attackers, but Athos was injured. He and Aramis have taken refuge inside a monastery...”
Treville clenched his teeth. The news weren't as hopeless as he'd feared, but they were still far from good. “Very well, I'll see that a physician is found and taken to the monastery,” the Captain pointed out, ready to set in motion whatever was needed to get all of his men back safely. “Until then, I'm certain that Athos will be in capable hands, between Aramis and the monks.”
The dark look that crossed both men's eyes was anything but subtle. So evident it was that even Richelieu, who had stayed behind to eavesdrop on the report, did not fail to notice it.
“What is it? Out with it!”
Treville stared at the First Minister. The words could have been spoken by him, but it had been the usually composed Cardinal to bark the order.
Bourges and Puy exchanged another look. Whatever was left saying, it seemed to be so horrible that neither men wanted to say it out loud.
“For goodness sake, Musketeers! Speak!”
“Porthos said that...” Bourges started, looking at the Cardinal like he pitied the man, which was odd in itself. "At the monastery..."
“All the monks were dead,” Puy let out in a gust of courage. “Porthos thinks it ain't safe for the Majesties to go any further.”
The silence that follow such an announcement was heavy with disbelief and grief. It was not often that violence reached those in holy orders, as most men, even murderers, had some degree of respect for the higher Entity that commanded those ordained by the Church.
“All of them?” the question came out as a whisper as if saying it louder would make things worse, uglier. It was impossible.
Both Musketeers nodded, taking off their hats as a sign of respect for the dead clergymen.
Treville closed his eyes. Unfathomable as it was, there had to be a reason behind such atrocity and at the moment, there was only one that the Captain could think of. The King.
“Cardinal... are you feelin-”
Treville opened his eyes as he heard the rare tone of concern from one of his Musketeers in regards to the Cardinal. As he looked, the Captain could see that there was a good reason for that. The stalwart man had turned into the color and consistency of sour milk, swooning dangerously on his feet. “Richelieu!”
There was no time to react as the older man's eyes rolled and he dropped like a stone, cracking his head against the hard ground.
~§~
