The Mysterious Disappearance of Cardinal Richelieu (#Musketeers/Dr Who Fan Fiction)

For my second ever piece of fan fiction I decided to combine the Musketeers with Dr Who - well with Peter Capaldi leaving one show for another with very little explanation as to why the Cardinal vanished I decided it was fitting to make up my own reasons.

I hope I haven't ruined two of my favourite programmes by doing this, I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy it too - would love to hear your comments!

  It was a hot afternoon and only a thin breeze reached Queen Anne as she reclined on the sofa by the open window. Her belly had grown into a neat round bump and her baby seemed extra lively today.

    A playful smile crossed her face as she felt the shape of a foot, or was it an elbow dig into her side. She would never tire of the sensation of a new life growing inside her.

    There wasn’t much longer to wait now to see what the child looked like, which parent would he favour. Would he have his father’s twinkling eyes? The baby was certainly just as restless as he was. He would grow up to be a strong, brave man of action she just knew it. Just as she was convinced it would be a boy, an heir to the throne of France.

    At that moment the King walked in unannounced just because he was the King!

    Anne lifted her head and prepared to rise.

    “Don’t trouble yourself my love.” He took her hand and gave it the softest kiss, his lips barely skimming the surface of her skin. “How are we both today?” He spoke to the bump and giggled in his usual excited manner.

    Anne’s smile was bittersweet. Although King Louis was not the man she would have chosen she was certain he would make an excellent father. He had proved himself to be good with children when his nephew had visited and he had been so attentive since she had fallen pregnant. He indulged her every whim to make her happy and provided her with the protection of his finest Musketeers.

    “I am expecting the court physician to pay a visit shortly.”

    “There’s nothing wrong with you or the baby is there?”

    “I sincerely hope not sire. I am feeling well if a little more tired than usual. But the doctor is keeping a close watch on me as you yourself instructed.”

    “Oh yes I did,” He chuckled to himself remembering. “Well we can’t be too careful with our miracle child.” His hand rested over her stomach, hovering as if he dared not touch the precious bump.

    “But there is something wrong with you. You look troubled my Lord.”

    “I’ve been looking for the Cardinal. I’ve not seen him for days and it’s not like him to leave me to my own devices for such a long time. I almost think it’s worth doing something foolish just to see if he appears.”

    He skipped over to the window, “I could just imagine him popping out from somewhere and surprising me.” He flicked the curtain back with a flourish just to make sure the Cardinal wasn’t hiding in the queen’s chambers.

    Disappointment showed on his face when he wasn’t there, he really was beginning to miss him.

    “Perhaps you should send a message to Captain Treville, maybe he knows of his whereabouts?”

    “Now why didn’t I think of that? I shall send the Musketeers out to look for him. A grand game of hide and seek. Oh Anne you are always so wise. I hope our child will inherit your great wisdom.”

    He kissed her hand again and she blushed, not at his touch but at the thought of the Musketeers, at least one in particular and the secret kisses they had exchanged.

    “I shall send a message at once to the Captain and leave you to your rest.”

    Full of contentment King Louis left to resolve the pressing matter of Cardinal Richelieu’s disappearance.

    He had never had any doubts the child was his and the queen kept her own counsel on such matters and prayed her indiscretion would never be found out.

    Meanwhile in a quiet corner of the palace something most peculiar was happening. There was a whirring noise and an intermittent flash of blue light which cast strange and eerie shadows on the wall. Anyone watching would have sworn they’d been drinking too much wine but there was no one around to see the spectacle apart from a spider that scuttled back through a tiny hole in the brickwork.

    The Tardis arrived and out stepped Clara Oswald followed by the Doctor, a man of many faces.

    He had recently regenerated and Clara was having trouble getting used to the new man in her life. He looked much older than before, more like a father figure. Although in reality he was over a thousand years old so this made him old enough to be her great great grandfather several times over!

    “So where are we then?” she asked him.

    He took his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and tapped the wall with it listening to the resonance of the echo.

    She eyed his actions suspiciously.

    “Seventeenth century France. Around 1630.”

    “Half past four then – time for tea?” she said brightly.

    It was his turn to look at her with a quizzical look. “Would the old me have found that funny?”

    She considered the question. “Maybe. Yes I think he would have laughed.”

    “Ha ha.” He said with little conviction and slightly distracted. “Come on this way.”

    He took long strides and Clara walked quickly to keep up.

    As they turned a corner they almost bumped into a man dressed very regally.

    “Who are you?” the Doctor enquired rather rudely.

    “King Louis the thirteenth.” He replied. “May I ask who you are wandering about the palace unannounced? I must say you do look rather familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”

    “I am the Doctor.”

    “Good. Well Anne is expecting you. And you must be…?” He looked Clara up and down, she was strangely attired for the period, showing off a slender pair of legs he noted.

    “Clara is the nursemaid.” Said the Doctor quickly.

    “Oh, very well. You’ll find the queen through there.” He waved them on as he walked away.

    “Nursemaid?” Clara hissed.

    “You’ve been a governess before and looked after children. It’s not that far removed.” The Doctor actually smiled at her.

    “So the queen is pregnant?”

    “And it would appear she is expecting a visit from the Doctor.” He knocked boldly on the door.

    “You are not the usual physician.” Said Anne as the Doctor approached.

    “I’m a bit of a specialist and after all this is a very special baby.”

    Reaching in his pocket he pulled out his sonic screwdriver.

    Clara raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head,

    “A bit too specialist?” He whispered to her.

    “Just a tiny bit.” Replied Clara as she looked across at the queen who regarded their exchange with a bemused expression.

    Instead the Doctor rubbed his hands together, then lifting them to his lips he blew a warm breath on them. He offered a hand to Clara, “Warm enough?”

    There was a spark of lingering regeneration energy which caused a tingling like static electricity as their fingertips met.

    With a sigh she wondered about this strange new man she was travelling with. He was quirky and slightly out of place with the world. Definitely still “her” Doctor underneath this new facade.

    Smiling to herself she bounced on her feet, partly from excitement at their new adventure but also prepared to run if necessary. Because what if this ended badly and the real physician arrived? They were here in seventeenth century France, had the guillotine been invented yet? She didn’t really want to find out.

    However Anne remained regal and serene. She lay very still as the Doctor placed a hand firmly on her stomach over the top of her dress. The baby let out an almighty kick.

    “Oh my, he’s a lively little fellow isn’t he?” He smiled down at the patient.

    “Can you tell if it is a boy?” Anne craved an answer.

    “Oh most definitely! He’s a miraculous baby and will be a most marvellous king one day. Let me tell you…”

    “Spoilers!” muttered Clara under her breath.

    “Oh yes, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.” He frowned, deep lines crossing his forehead.

    “But please assure me doctor that everything is well. Your countenance just changed as if a dark cloud passed over it. There is something that concerns you greatly? In fact have we met before? That worried expression is so familiar, as if you are hiding some unpalatable truth. I will not have you keeping secrets from me.”

    “Your majesty there really is nothing you should worry about.” He bowed down low before her, taking a few steps backward as he did so. “But Clara we have to go.”

    “Are we running?”

    “Oh yes!” He said with a beaming grin.

    “So is it alien then?” asked Clara. After running down a few corridors the Doctor had stopped as if deciding where to run next.

    “What?”

    “The baby?”

    “No don’t be so ridiculous.”

    “But you said he was a miracle baby.”

    “Ah yes, you see the queen has had trouble conceiving and she has suffered a great many miscarriages over the years. There has been a concern for a long time that she would not produce an heir to King Louis’s throne.”

    “It’s not always the woman’s fault. When we met the king he did seem sort of effeminate, so maybe he has the problem. Perhaps he’s not the dad? Is there some royal scandal? These things happen even in these times.”

    The Doctor shrugged not unduly concerned by trivial earthly affairs, all the while still figuring out which way to go next, tapping on the walls again.

     “There’s something going on though.”

    “Oh yes, well unborn babies can communicate to Time Lords and we had quite a little chat.”

    “Now you’re just making things up and teasing me.”

    He looked at her with a glint in his eye. “You may never know, come on this way.” And he was off running again.

    Although Clara was totally exasperated by the man there was nothing more she wanted to do but follow.

    The Doctor wasn’t the only one concerned by strange goings on.

    “So explain this to me again,” said Captain Treville. He had his four best men in front of him and their story was unbelievable.

    He would have sworn they had spent the afternoon in the tavern rather than on duty but he couldn’t smell a drop of alcohol on their breath. Besides even when drunk Athos made more sense than this!

    “There was a party of Red Guards preventing Musketeers from entering the palace,” Athos spoke in his usual understated manner but was agitated that he had to repeat the story to the Captain once more. “They declared they had orders from the Cardinal to kill all the Musketeers who were ruining France. Then they raised their swords and fire flew from the tips. Our men fell as if shot and then their bodies disappeared in front of us. Not a trace remained.”

    “I know it sounds weird Captain but that’s exactly what happened.” Added Porthos. “The red guards saw us but their weapons seemed to only have a limited range. We were far enough away to escape.”

    Aramis nervously rolled the edge of his hat in his hands. “All this talk isn’t helping; we need to get back to check on the Queen.”

    Athos glared over at him. It was becoming far too obvious he was distressed at not being able to protect the woman he loved.

    “…and the King of course!” Aramis traded Athos’s black look with one of his own.

    “We need to work out what we are dealing with first and come up with a plan. We will be no use to anyone if we evaporate in the same way as the others. They have orders to kill the Musketeers not the Royal Family.”

    “Athos you don’t know that for certain. The King and Queen could have already…,” He struggled to find the right word, “…disappeared.”

    Just then there was a knock at the door and a messenger arrived. He handed the note to the Captain.

    Aramis couldn’t help noticing the Royal Seal and eagerly leant forward to discover more.

    “I am to wait for a reply.” The messenger said.

    “Then wait outside.” Snapped Treville, trying to make sense of things as he broke the seal and read the contents quickly.

    “It would appear from this missive written in his own hand that the King is alive and well, so we can assume this is true of the Queen. “ He looked straight at Aramis as he said this, why did that man always lust after the most inappropriate women? “ But he has an urgent task for us, to find Cardinal Richlieu. In fact he invites us to take part in a grand game of Hide and Seek.”

    “It’s some kind of trap. Richlieu is behind it controlling the Red Guards getting them to kill Musketeers with some kind of sorcery.”

    “Dangerous words Porthos, witchcraft and the church don’t mix.” Said Athos.

    “An uneasy alliance but I’ve always suspected that man to be in league with the devil!”  Porthos grinned.

    Treville ignored Porthos’s remarks. “D’Artagnan, you’ve not said much.” The youngest recruit looked thoughtful and the Captain was keen to hear his contribution.

    “Well I was thinking, the messenger got out past the guards, the Royal Family appear to be safe inside what if we went to the palace disguised as something other than Musketeers to see if we can get in and try to find out what’s really going on?”

    “It sounds like the best plan we’ve got.”

    A little while later a cart entered the palace gates. They were stopped by the Red Guards who scanned them quizzically their heads moved mechanically from side to side never uttering a word.

    “We are the Royal Vintners.” Said d’Artagnan, who was driving. He tried to look the guard in the eye but failed to catch his gaze.  “We have a delivery of wine for the King.”

    Satisfied the guards stepped aside allowing them to pass and they proceeded along the track to the kitchen entrance.

    “They are not human.” Said Porthos letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. He was certain he could hear his own heartbeat like the ticking of a clock but as they moved further from the guards the noise subsided, drowned out by birdsong. D’Artagnan had to agree there was something incredibly strange going on.

    When they stopped at the palace, Athos and Aramis jumped out from the back of the cart.

    “That wine is a good vintage.” Athos remarked.

    “Well maybe if we rescue the King he will let you have some when this is all over.” Said Aramis.

    Athos barely smiled and instead led his men through the back door and into the kitchen. It was hot and steamy, with the heady scent of a royal feast, succulent venison, aromatic herbs and mouth-watering fresh fruit.

    “Oi you can’t just leave your cart there! Aren’t you going to unload it?”

    Ignoring the commotion they were causing Athos walked on determined, but Aramis picked a strawberry from the top of a cake as he passed and popped it whole in his mouth.

    “Delicious!” He exclaimed, crimson juice dribbling into his beard.

    “That’s for the queen that is!” said one of the cooks with her hands on her hips, “You can’t just walk in here and take that.”

    He raised his hat at the girl, “Oh Monsieur Aramis, I didn’t recognise you out of uniform.” She bobbed as if to curtsey while her hand unconsciously reached for a strand of hair that had escaped from her hat and twisted it about her finger.

    “Shush!” he said with his own finger raised to his lips and then he blew her a kiss. She blushed profusely, her face as red as the strawberry he had stolen.

    “Come on!” said Porthos, shaking his head at his friend’s antics.

    D’Artagnan tried his luck as he passed but as he went to grab a strawberry the girl slapped his hand.

    “Gentlemen please remember why we here. And remember we are supposed to be in disguise.” Admonished Athos as they left the heat and noise of the kitchen behind them. “Now we all stick together. If those Red Guards attack we need to keep our wits about us. This will be no ordinary fight.”

    “And we start by checking on the Queen.” Said Aramis defiantly, heading for the grand staircase and taking them two steps at a time, knowing the others would have to follow.

    “Hello again.” Said Clara as she and the Doctor turned a corner and almost crashed into King Louis. Then remembering he was the King she curtseyed with her birdlike legs clumsily crossing beneath her.

    “It’s the Doctor isn’t it? How was the Queen?”

    “Doing very well your majesty,” answered the Doctor. ”But you look as if you’ve lost something.”

    “Someone actually. I’m looking for Cardinal Richlieu, he’s about your height with a similar build, wears black leather robes. Usually struts around the palace telling me what to do but he’s gone missing.”

    “And when did this happen?”

    “Well thinking about it now I didn’t see him at all yesterday but it was quite fun not being told what to do, being a maverick for a day. Sometimes being King is so boring. But I feel a bit lost without him now and wish he would come back.”

    “Cardinal Richelieu is now complete and no longer in the service of the King.” A mechanical voice came out of the ether and suddenly the Doctor and his companions were surrounded by the rogue Red Guards.

    “Where did you come from?” Asked the King looking round puzzled by their unexpected appearance.

    “That is not important!”

    “Doctor do those soldiers have clockwork faces?” Clara whispered.

    “Yes beautiful faces.” Agreed the Doctor getting closer to inspect. “A work of art. Now I’ve seen something like this before just can’t quite remember in which lifetime.”

    “But the King hasn’t noticed anything odd about them.”

     “Very low level perception filter, all too often you humans see exactly what you want to see, what you expect, but,” the Doctor knocked off the helmet of the nearest guard and it clattered to the floor.

    The King let out a shriek of surprise when suddenly confronted with the thing in front of him. It had the body of a Red Guard but an elongated glass head with ticking clogs inside.

    “What strange creature is this?” The King eventually asked.

    “Alien, from another planet, from another time.”  The Doctor was still fascinated by the intricate workings of the clockwork head in front of him. “Now if only I could remember where I’ve seen you lot before I could remember how to deal with you. That’s the problem with regenerating some of my memories get a bit muddled up in the process and they haven’t all caught up with themselves. A bit like Twitter downloading notifications that go missing on your timeline!”

    “And what business do you have here?” Demanded the King ignoring the Doctor’s incomprehensible ramblings.

    “We are looking for Musketeers.” Came the measured reply.

    “Well we are not Musketeers merely travellers in time and space. And he is the King of France,” said the Doctor indicating towards King Louis standing beside him. “What do you want the Musketeers for anyway?”

    “They will be the ruin of France. We have orders from Cardinal Richelieu that they should be destroyed.”

    “Cardinal Richelieu has no authority to destroy my Musketeers.” The King stamped his foot at this like a petulant child; he was standing for no more nonsense from these clockwork soldiers. “Just where is the Cardinal? Do you know where he is? Take me to him now!”

    At the King’s command the corridor they were standing in seemed to disappear and the three companions found themselves in the centre of a spaceship. Not the most elegant part of the craft but the engine room, the unseen nerve centre where everything came together for the smooth running of the vessel.

    “Oh it’s coming back to me now.  I have seen this before, all I needed was a bit of teleporting to help trigger off my memories. Rose, can you smell roses? No not roses,” He clicked his fingers, “Roast dinner, that smell in the air, rich meaty cooking smell.” The Doctor twirled about as he rambled, it was all utter drivel to Clara but she could almost see his brain ticking in the same way the clockwork soldiers’ inner workings could be seen. Piece by piece it was clicking into place, cogs spinning, wheels revolving, springs wound tight until…

    Suddenly he stopped turning, “No, not roast dinner at all, human flesh burnt into your circuits. You are a fifty-first century space ship linked to France and I’ve just realised where I’ve seen your sort before. Tell me just what is your fascination with the French aristocracy? First this happens to Madame de Pompadour and now Cardinal Richelieu.”

    “Our ship is the SS Cardinal Richelieu, Madame de Pompadour is our sister ship.”

    “Madame de Pompadour?” The King repeated to himself with glee liking the sound of her name on his tongue. “She sounds delightful, can I meet her?”

    “No you’d really better not your majesty, could be slightly complicated.”

    “Spoilers?” asked Clara.

    “You could say that Madame de Pompadour is the mistress of King Louis’s grandson!”

    “Awkward!” agreed Clara with a grin, time travel had opened up such endless possibilities to her but she wasn’t sure the King could handle such knowledge. Although to be fair apart from screaming like a girl when the Doctor revealed the soldiers to be clockwork he seemed to have kept a cool head.

    “So obviously you have used the real Cardinal Richelieu as spare parts to fix your ailing craft, that is his brain in there I take it?” The Doctor pointed to gelatinous mound of red goo wired into the circuits. Clara wrinkled her nose and didn’t venture any closer. “So you could just fly away, there is nothing wrong with the ship.”

    “That is correct we are now complete but we have a new mission – to rid France of the Musketeers. We have access to the Cardinal’s thoughts and it is his express wish that the Musketeers must be terminated or France will be ruined.”

    Aramis barged into the queen’s chamber without even knocking.

    “Aramis.” Queen Anne was delighted to see him if a little surprised. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks coloured behind her fan.

    In only a few strides he reached her but the arrival of Athos, Portos and d’Artagnan immediately behind him prevented him from taking her in his arms as he desired to do.

    Instead he bowed low, drinking in the wondrous sight before him, “Your majesty, there have been some strange goings on and we have come to protect you.”

    “It has been quiet here all day but I am always glad to see all of you Musketeers and I feel especially safe in your presence.” She tried not to look directly at Aramis as she spoke but found it hard to do so when his eyes were fixed on her.

    At the mere mention of the name Musketeers within the palace walls the drones surrounding the Doctor, Clara and the King relocated, teleporting straight into the Queen’s chamber.

    “Where did they go?” The King looked around puzzled at their absence.

    Then they heard a woman scream.

    “That’s Anne. Someone’s attacking the queen!”

    “Doctor how do we get back?” Asked Clara. “Can we teleport?”

    The Doctor flicked a few switches on a console. “Not without those clockwork soldiers with us. We are going to have to find a time portal, there’s a physical link somewhere between the space ship and the palace. We just have follow the noise of the screaming and that will be the way between our world and this one. I just hope I don’t have to smash a mirror this time, made a right mess before and I have no horse. Arthur, oh I miss Arthur but Rose wouldn’t let me keep him.” He said cryptically before turning to Louis with a sweeping bow, “Your majesty I believe it is time to run!”

    In other circumstances the King was sure this fellow would be fun to keep around court. He was fond of talking in riddles and he could probably liven up any gathering. But for now he was concerned for his Queen and perhaps more importantly his future heir she was carrying.

    When Anne screamed Aramis drew his sword in a fluid action. As he raised it to defend the Queen he knocked the arm of the Red Guard and a flash of fire emitted from its tip just missing Athos’s ear.

    “Remember Aramis these soldiers carry strange weapons. “ He said as he jabbed his own sword to meet the solid chest of the soldier he was facing. “They appear to be covered in armour as well.”

    “They must have a weak spot somewhere.” Said Porthos as he deflected another blow.

    “They don’t move so well.”

    The Guards moved in such a slow methodical fashion that they had all realised there was some advantage to be gained. They were definitely more agile than their opponents and fit from their daily training sessions.

    It was d’Artagnan who used his efforts to strike one about the head and as he did so the helmet flew off. Suddenly they were all aware that what they were facing was certainly not human.

    Just for a second time seemed to stop even though a sound like a hundred ticking clocks filled the air, a countdown to the imminent destruction of the Musketeers.

    “What are these strange creatures?” Asked Porthos filled with curiosity.

    “Never mind what they are or where they are from, they are trying to kill us and we have to stop them.” Athos replied.

    Anne whimpered curling herself up as tight as she could on the sofa with her arms protectively about her bump. Aramis caught sight of her from the corner of his eye as he ducked to avoid a fatal shot. His emotions were torn he needed to draw them away from her but longed to stay close. She shouldn’t be here in this battle. Had they placed her in mortal danger?

    Athos meanwhile thought he had found a slight chink in the armour where the neck and head joined, he deftly sidestepped the next attack and forced his sword upwards into the gap. There was a grating sound of metal on metal as the blade ripped apart the cogs. He twisted his weapon to inflict maximum damage and the clockwork soldier wound down slowly unable to fight back.

    “Go for just under the neck.” He screamed his advice to the others. “That’s the weak spot.”

    The fight got more intense after that as they dodged the alien weapons that shot sparks of flame. They knew only too well what would happen if they were hit, they would disappear forever like the Musketeers they had seen earlier.

    Porthos suddenly found himself near the open window as he moved to avoid a shot he leant backwards and toppled through.

    “Porthos!” D’Artagnan cried but as he looked down below his brother in arms had vanished.

    There was a smell like burnt flesh, I’ve landed in hell, Porthos thought, for this surely isn’t heaven. His artificial surroundings were made from metal and it was unlike anything he had even encountered before in his travels. He hit the wall with his sword producing a clanging echo all around.

    Far in the distance he could hear the fighting still taking place without him. There was no time for sentiment in battle, he knew his friends would fight valiantly on without him but he hoped they would raise a glass to him at the tavern later in his memory.

    It saddened him to think he would never see his friends again, loyal Athos with his stern looks, mischievous Aramis and his wild wicked ways and d’Artagnan, still so young but learning fast.

    It had been a good life really, he mused but his reminiscences were cut short when he heard the sound of footsteps running towards him.

    “Porthos!”

    “You majesty.” He bowed before his King. “Are you dead too?”

    “No, I don’t think so. Am I dead Doctor?”

    “No, no one is dead, not today. Did you come through this way?” He indicated to a red velvet curtain fluttering in the breeze.

    “I don’t know, it was all a blur. Where am I?”

“This is a spaceship,“ explained the young girl who accompanied the strange man and the King, “It flies through time and space among the stars.” Her voice was bright and pretty. To Porthos she was an angel.

    “Well sort of, something like that.” Said the Doctor. “Now Allons-y! I always liked saying that, kind of appropriate now don’t you think?” And with that he held the curtain to one side and they all walked through, with Clara grabbing hold of Portos’s hand leading him back to the world he had come from.

    Just who was most surprised by their appearance in the Queen’s chambers from behind the curtain is hard to say. It was the very same curtain Louis had looked behind earlier in the day when searching for the Cardinal unaware at the time of its great significance.

    Now he had seen enough to make a stand and it was he who addressed the clockwork aliens. This would be his finest hour although sadly the history books do not record it.

    “If I understand this correctly, your ship that sails through the stars is now captained by Cardinal Richelieu. But it appears to me we are still in France and the Cardinal still takes his orders from me. I am the King and I forbid this folly to persist any longer. Your ship is mended and able to fly. So I order you to go. Leave my Musketeers alone, leave France, leave this world in peace by my royal command.”

    Louis spoke with such authority that the rogue Red Guards disappeared at once. There was a slight shaking in the palace as the SS Cardinal Richelieu severed all links with 1630 and left for good.

    “Louis it seems to have worked,” the queen rushed to her husband’s side and warmly hugged him. “You were so brave to face such beasts,” she was overcome with admiration at his courage.

    Such displays of public affection were rare and the Musketeers all turned their heads out of respect looking away discretely, all except one who seethed furiously under his hat!

    “Oh Anne I would do anything to protect you and our baby.” He held her close as she collapsed into him feeling his arms embrace her more assured and confident than ever before.

    He stroked her hair tenderly, “It must have been so frightening for you. Come and sit down my love.” Leading her back to the sofa he helped her get settled. “Someone fetch the Queen some water.”

    By chance Aramis was closest to the table and he lifted the jug shaking with rage as he watched the devoted couple before him knowing there was nothing he could do but wishing more than anything else that he was the one comforting his beloved.

    Clara watched as water splashed haphazardly over the edge of the glass and came alongside him to steady his hand.

    “Let me take that.” She said with a pleasant smile. Their fingers touched and as their eyes met she was sure she saw a teardrop just about to fall but then he regained his composure and conjured up smile in return accompanied with a heartfelt sigh. It was for the best he didn’t let his emotions show, Athos was watching after all!

    “I think it is time we all left the King and Queen to have some rest. Doctor’s orders.” The Doctor lifted his arms like a mother hen gathering everyone up and shooing them from the room.

    As his dark coat fell open the King caught sight of the red lining and he imagined another man stood there swishing a red cloak in exactly the same manner.

     “I’ve got it, I know who you look like. If you grew a beard and moustache you would look just like Cardinal Richelieu!”

    “A beard? A moustache? Hmm, I suppose I could grow them.” He rubbed his face with his hand pondering his features.

    “No, don’t change again so soon, I’m just getting used to you like this.” Said Clara as she slipped her arm in his and they walked out of the room following the four Musketeers.

 (Now I could have ended the story here, the alien threat has diminished and all is right with the world but there is one last scene I want to write and it would be such a shame having Clara here in this time and space and not give her a bit of romance… after all Musketeers have a habit of falling for impossible girls!)

    “Alright where and when would you like to travel to next?” asked the Doctor once they had returned to the Tardis.

    “We don’t have to leave right now do we?”

    “Why? Do you have other plans?”

    “Actually I have a date.”

    “Oh.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

    “What do I have to ask your permission now, like you’re my dad or something?”

    “No,” he answered huffily and started flicking indiscriminate switches on the control panel.

    She disappeared into the heart of the Tardis and returned a few minutes later wearing a different dress with a fresh coat of lip gloss. As she walked towards the door, the Doctor looked up from his tinkering.

    “He does have honourable intentions I assume?”

    “Aren’t Musketeers always honourable? It’s just a date, a picnic under the stars. You really are like my dad now aren’t you?” She kissed his cheek and skipped off. “Don’t wait up!”

    “I’ve never been taken on a date on horseback before!” said Clara as Porthos helped her down. “First day I met the Doctor we went on a motorbike.”

    “Mademoiselle Clara, you do say the strangest of things. Explain the word date to me and motorbike and the Doctor.”

    Clara giggled, “I don’t believe anyone could ever explain the Doctor!”

    Porthos shook his head maybe there were some things a man from the seventeenth century shouldn’t know. Instead he led her to a quiet clearing in the wood where they could picnic and watch the stars. “All I’m interested in really is to know more about you. And I want to eat!”

    She sat down beside him and watched as he tucked into a chicken leg with obvious relish.

    “Oh this is so good. I really thought I had died.”

    “Oh I know, when we first saw you, you looked as white as the moon above!”

    He roared at that, a big hearty laugh of a man glad to just be alive.

    “Every day is like that for you isn’t it?”

    “Some days are quieter than others,” Clara confessed. “But I love the adventure and the running.” Her eyes sparkled as she remembered her adventures. “You could always come with us.”

    “Might get a bit crowded in that blue box of yours. I’m a big man, I need my space.”

    “You need your friends too.” It was half a question, half a statement.

    He nodded.  “The thought of not seeing their ugly faces again… well they are my family and you don’t run out on family do you. Just like you and the Doctor really. I think we both know something about being different, trying to fit in and find our place in the world. Now tell me about the stars.” He lay down looking up the sky. “Show me where you’ve been.”

    She lay down close beside him and pointed, it didn’t really matter which one she pointed to she reasoned, somewhere up there were all her adventures. Pinpricks of sparkle in the night sky. The same in seventeenth century France as they were back home.

    “Here I want to give you a present.” Clara said when they arrived back outside the Tardis, “Something to remember me by.”

    “Oh I don’t think I could ever forget you. Every time I look up at the stars I will remember.”

    Clara fiddled with her ear and handed over one of her earrings. “They’re not real diamonds or anything special but I thought you might like it.”

    Porthos put the earring in his own ear, “how does it look?”

    “Just like a twinkling star in the sky.”

    He hugged her close to say thank you; she could feel his heartbeat speed up a little. It was always hard to say goodbye but she had another man who needed her, at least she hoped he still did…

    “You had a good time?” The Doctor asked without looking up.

    “Yes thank you. Have you been tinkering all evening? Boys and their toys.” She sighed with a laugh.

    “No I went and helped deliver the royal baby. All the excitement brought on the labour. Mother and baby are doing well and I discovered King Louis is quite fond of gas and air, makes him even more giggly.”

    “Isn’t that modern pain relief?”

    “Technically yes but after the day they’ve all had it was only fair.”

    “So go on then tell me, is it a boy or a girl?”

    “I already told you it was a boy.”

    “Just checking!” She paused almost wondering if she should ask her next question. “It’s Aramis isn’t it. The baby’s father. I watched the way he looked at her.”

    “Oh Clara you can’t expect me to answer that one.” He said. “Spoilers dear girl! Now would you like to do the honours?” He pointed to a large switch on the Tardis console.

    Her eyes widened, he nodded, she flicked the switch and the Tardis whirred back into life off on a new adventure.

    Meanwhile Porthos stood outside watching in awe, he felt a sharp cold breeze on his face as the blue box disappeared. He shook his head, turned on his heel and walked away resigned to a Musketeer’s life without love but with honour.

    In his ear the diamond earring sparkled, forever a reminder of the girl he could have loved. The girl who travelled amongst the stars.

If you enjoyed this story and want to read another click on title for my first #Musketeers Fan Fic Treville's Secret 

Treville's Secret (#Musketeers Fan Fiction)

This little idea has been bubbling away for a while and I’ve never written any fan fiction before so I thought it was time to give it a go.

As the Comtesse said to the Musketeer, “I am feeling indulgent.”

So please indulge me and ENJOY!

Treville’s Secret

     The woman stopped abruptly when she reached the gates to the Musketeers quarters, she’d not seen her husband for almost sixteen years and she was unsure of the reception he would give her.

Smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt, she wished for another life. Her dress had become badly worn over the years although it was unlike her to care for such trivial matters. Her daughter had always taken priority and it was thoughts of her beautiful Estelle which now gave her courage. 

With a deep breath and head held high she stepped into another world.

“I’m looking for Captain Treville.” She enquired of the first soldier she met. Her voice came out clearer than she expected it to giving her another boost of confidence.

The man tipped his hat at her and indicated to the stairs. She could sense him staring at her as she went but not unkindly as most men stared, more out of curiosity.

She knocked boldly on the door.

“Enter.” Came a shout from within, she pushed the door open, stepped in and faced the man who had deserted her all those years ago…

     She was the last person he expected to see. They both stared at each other taking in the people they had become over the years. He looked inevitably older but incredibly smart and handsome in his uniform, she lowered her gaze suddenly ashamed.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice  barely a whisper, a vast wave of guilt overwhelming her.

“Why are you here Celeste?” Her name on his lips after all this time made her shiver.

“Estelle…” her voice trailed away as she struggled to find the words.

“Is she dead too, like her brother?” His direct words were harsh piercing her brittle heart.

Did she deserve them? 

When the twins were born, one girl, one boy, their son was already frail. It had been a long drawn out labour and with not enough milk to feed them both he favoured she should care for his son; but Laurent was a fractious baby who wouldn’t latch on properly and showed little interest in living. Instead she fed the stronger of the two, delighting in her daughter’s zest for life.

She had to give one of them the chance of life or risk losing them both. Yet she still lost two people she loved that day.

It was the most difficult decision she had ever made. Thoughts of cradling her dying baby boy in her arms haunted her still.

Treville left her soon after unable to bear watching his daughter thrive. The loss of an heir too much for him. Celeste forgave her husband as he walked away. She understood his pain but never truly forgave herself.

“He was too weak. He was always too weak to survive, you just couldn’t see it. You didn’t want to accept it to be true.” Celeste argued, “Would you really let one of your musketeers fight in a battle he was sure to lose?”

He was not prepared to talk about his men with her, they were his family now.

“And what of Estelle?”

“She’s gone missing, since two nights ago. There have been stories of girls in the neighbourhood being taken. I’m worried Treville. Please I’m begging you. I don’t want to lose her too.”

“She’s no longer a concern of mine.” He turned away. Those broad shoulders once such a comfort to her were now a huge wall between them.

“You don’t honestly mean that. I don’t believe you do. She’s your daughter too!” 

“I can’t help you Celeste.” He kept his back to her so the pain on his face wouldn’t betray his words. Looking out of the window at his soldiers below he wondered once more what sort of man his sixteen year old son would have become.

     Slamming the door behind her enraged she blinked back the rush of fresh tears. How foolish she had been to think he would help her. He had risen to the important rank of Captain of the King’s Musketeers in her absence while she lived the life of an impoverished “widow” who took in laundry to put food on the table. She really was nothing to him.

In her haste to leave she slipped on the wooden steps, her legs gave way beneath her and she found herself tumbling into the arms of the Musketeer who had watched her arrive. His strong arms steadied her and she dared for a moment to look up into his eyes.

They was something about them mirrored her own. This man had lost someone too, his sorrowful eyes searched hers, somehow he seemed to understand her pain, the dilemma of life and death she had faced alone.

When she could bear his empathy no longer she shook herself free from his firm but gentle grip but as she tried to walk away she realised she had twisted her ankle in the fall, she winced in pain at each hurried step.

“Stop!” It was Treville shouting from the balcony. His voice was thunderous and she wondered what her crime was now. Would she never be pardoned?

Two more musketeers advanced. One was hardly more than a child in her eyes, too young to really be a soldier. The other had a darker complexion and towered above her ominously blocking out the sun.

They shared a furtive look between them and lifted her up, each carrying her under her arms with such ease she felt like a tiny bird about to be caged. What little fight she had left disappeared as they carried her backwards and sat her down on a barrel at the bottom of the steps.

“Celeste, I will help you. I will find her.” The voice called down benevolently.

Looking upwards she saw Treville, his face betraying no emotion as if this was like any other piece of business.

She tried to utter a thank you but her mouth was dry, besides he was no longer looking in her direction.

Instead he called a musketeer up to his office. It was the man she had crashed into on the stairs. She half-heartedly prayed he was the most trusted man to undertake the search, although she knew God had already been gracious to her that day.

Satisfied she had done as much as she was able she tried to get down from her perch to walk away.

“Please let me look at that ankle, Madame…?” The sentence turned into a question that hung in the air and she dare not speak the answer.

“Madame Treville.” So he was still looking down at her after all. “Celeste Treville. My wife.” It sounded like a warning. Only then did she hear the door bang shut.

“Well Madame,” the musketeer said brightly with a dazzling smile that reached all the way up to his eyes, “that was a nasty fall but with a bandage you should be able to walk a little way.”

He knelt at her feet and removed her shoe. She flinched even though his touch was tender.

“Does that hurt?” he asked as he twisted her foot first one way and then the other.

She nodded, biting her lip hoping more tears wouldn’t fall.

“I will go and fetch some bandages.”

“No please,” she begged grabbing his shoulder as he was about to rise, “just tear a strip from my petticoat. I don’t want to take anything from you. It is really too much to ask.” The colour was rising in her cheeks betraying how uncomfortable she was beginning to feel.

He looked up at her in wonderment. “I can tell you are a practical woman and used to being independent. I won’t ask any questions.”

Lifting the top layer of her skirt he found the tattered petticoat beneath, tore a strip clean across and wrapped it expertly around her foot.

“There. Try and rest it as best you can.” Placing his hands securely about her waist he lifted her down, she shuddered.

“Thank you,” she just managed to say as she tested the weight on her ankle all the while looking at the floor to see that it would hold her.

“I don’t know who you are looking for but if the Captain says he will find her, he will. And may God go with you Madame Treville.”

His parting blessing made the tears spring up once more, God really was listening.

She hobbled away convinced she had met an army of angels today. How could these men be mere mortals?  It had been a long time since she had been shown such love and compassion.

     Standing in the office Athos raised an eyebrow quizzically at the captain.

“Yes she’s my wife. Is there anything else you need to know?” the answer was blunt.

“Probably not.” He replied in a similar matter of fact manner. Treville would tell him everything necessary, he wouldn’t pry. He was a man used to keeping confidences.

Treville paused before he spoke next, carefully considering what he was about to say. He wasn’t proud of his past and knew the whole story would come out eventually but if any of his Musketeers would understand it would be the man stood before him now. 

“What do you know of these girls that have been going missing?”

“D’Artagnan knows more than I do, some rumour Madame Bonecieux has picked up. Young girls around the age of eighteen disappearing. We’ve not got much to go on.”

The captain looked troubled the lines on his face suddenly more pronounced, showing his age.” My daughter is barely sixteen,” he mused, “and I don’t even know what she looks like.”

“Then I suggest we visit Constance immediately and see what she can tell us.” Athos nobly laid a hand on the captain’s shoulder.

     Constance was in the workroom sewing by the window but her thoughts meandered elsewhere. She was shocked to look out and see the Captain approach with Athos. The Captain looked particularly worried. She bit her lip wondering if there was something wrong with d’Artagnan.

She rushed to open the door, “Is everything alright?”

Athos smiled instinctively as he nodded in reply. Of all the secrets he kept the affair between Constance and d’Artagnan was the most widely known about although Monsieur Bonecieux remained blissfully deceived.

“We are looking for information about the young girls who have gone missing.”

“We believe my daughter Estelle is among them.” Treville disclosed.

“Your daughter?” Constance was caught off guard and saw the man before her in a new light. She had so many questions bubbling up that she wanted to ask but refrained. Instead she told the men all she knew.

“Mostly its rumour. My husband was talking to man who said her daughter had been sent out on an errand and never returned. The man wasn’t terribly concerned, said it was one less mouth to feed but then my cousin told me of a richly dressed woman wandering the streets at night who enticed her friend away with her with promises of fine clothes. Someone has been buying up fine silk and lace in the area but we are not getting the business. My husband is annoyed at that.” She added making a show of her married status, although in front of these two it wasn’t necessary. Even Captain Treville knew about most of his men’s dalliances. 

“We need to be vigilant and patrol the area. It might be helpful if perhaps your cousin would act as a decoy for us.” Athos looked at Constance.

“No I forbid it. No one else’s daughter is going missing!” Treville answered sharply.

“But Captain we would be watching and guarantee her safety. We need to catch these people in the act and follow them to find Estelle.” He deliberately spoke her name.

“My cousin wouldn’t mind. And I trust your men to protect her.” 

Treville shook his head, “I don’t like this.”

“It’s the best plan we’ve got.”

But there was something else bothering Treville, these girls weren’t just abducted but appeared to be leaving voluntarily. He needed to speak to Celeste some more.

“Alright, you go back and fetch the others. I have someone else I need to see.” He picked up his hat and left.

“So Captain Treville has a daughter!” Constance exclaimed as soon as he had gone.

“And a wife too it would seem.” Athos didn’t see it as betraying a confidence to share such information with her; she was almost like his sister to him.

Still pondering these thoughts Constance returned to her sewing.

     It didn’t take Treville long to find her, he guessed correctly that she had reverted to her maiden name after he had left. She was in one of the most run down parts of Paris, far removed from where they used to live.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Have you heard news?” she desperately enquired as she showed him into the small room she usually shared with her daughter.

“What are you not telling me Celeste?” His manner was brusque, his eyes searching for clues to the lives that were lived here.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She shuffled her feet on the floor, her ankle still throbbed and she longed to sit down but he stepped towards her grabbing her shoulders.

“Estelle ran away didn’t she?” Being so close he saw the lines etched on her face from age and worry. He had a sudden urge to trace those new marks with his fingertips. If he could he would erase them and turn back the wasted time. He remembered her complexion being soft and smooth. 

With a hand on her chin he tilted her head up to face him and she finally held his gaze.

They both remembered happier times. The years had been harsh to them both, stealing a deep joy they once shared together but the released memories flowed between them now.

He suddenly loosened his grip frightened where the feelings that were overwhelming him might lead.

“Would you want to live here, like this?” she tried to hold back the tears as she slumped onto the hard wooden bed she had to share with her daughter. It gave her relief for her painful ankle but she hated him seeing her like this, so broken.

“I’ve tried so hard, given her everything. It’s not been easy. She’d been talking for a while about leaving but I never thought she would until this woman turned up and filled her head with nonsense. Perhaps she did go freely but I worry about the life she will have. She talked of travelling to London. She’s going to end up a prostitute in a strange city. Is that life so much better than this? Is that where you want your daughter to end up?”

“And you? You never…?” He had no right to ask her such a question but he had to know.

She laughed nervously, still understanding him after all these years. “Did I ever prostitute myself for money? Is that what you are too afraid to ask? Do you think we would live here among the sewer rats if I had? There has never been anyone else for me.” She looked him straight in the eye the truth of her answer pierced his heart like an arrow.

“And what does Estelle know of me?” 

“She believes her father is dead. I thought it was for the best and never told her otherwise. I didn’t want her coming to find you. You see I’ve been a fool and watched you all these years from afar, I actually wept when I heard the news that you’d won your commission, I was so proud of all you had achieved. There were insane moments when I’d imagine my life married to a Captain in the King’s Musketeers.  But I soon realized you didn’t need us in your new life. I didn’t want to be a burden or hinder your career. And I didn’t want Estelle frittering her own life away on dreams that won’t come true.”

“So why come to me now?”

“Because I need you. You are the only person who could possibly help me find Estelle. And without Estelle I have absolutely no reason to live at all.”

This woman before him was so capable yet so fragile at the same time. He’d always wanted to protect her, make a home for her, not like this, she deserved so much more and he’d left her out of stupidity. They’d both lost a child and it tore them apart but she had been the strong one, strong enough to raise Estelle on her own. Every day she had put their child before herself. Suddenly he saw that she had given all she could to Laurent too. Celeste couldn’t withhold her goodness it wasn’t in her nature.

“I came to you because you loved me once.” She risked whispering as he turned towards the door.

“Perhaps I still do.” He thought but he dare not say it. Not until he had put things right.

      The Musketeers gathered at the Bonecieux household where they met the young Suzanne and briefed her on their mission. 

“This is most irregular but it’s what I’ve come to expect from you.” Monsieur Bonecieux sat at the head of the table eating his supper weary of the Musketeer business that always came to his door. 

Constance refilled his cup with the best wine, she smiled sweetly at him, affectionately patting his shoulder. He appeared to grow taller with her kind touch, a satisfied smirk on his face as he greedily pushed another forkful of food into his mouth.

D’Artagnan glared at the scene of domestic bliss until Porthos kicked his boot to get him to focus on the task in hand.

“We will follow you Mademoiselle from a distance keeping to the shadows but if at any point you get scared we will call it off and find another way.” Athos spoke calmly, aware of all that was going on in the room. He needed his men alert, there was a lot at stake and he had never seen Treville so visibly concerned.

“Constance said this was the only way.” The girl seemed completely unconcerned with the possible dangers that lay ahead. She had the foolishness of youth on her side.

Athos hoped they had made a wise decision, he had a sense this wasn’t going to be as straightforward as he first suspected. 

“But we don’t want to put you in a situation you are uncomfortable with.” This was Aramis unnecessarily reassuring her.

Suzanne looked up directly into his eyes beneath fluttering lashes and smiled.

Good grief, thought Athos, he had seen women look at Aramis that way before. It was destined to be a long night.

     It was a cold night too to be wandering the streets of Paris. Suzanne pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders. It was the cold that made her shiver she was sure of it. How could she be afraid when those brave musketeers were watching her every step. Sensing their eyes on her she tried to move seductively, after all she was no longer a child.

But the other night she had been frightened, the night her friend Marie-Claire had wandered off into the shadows. There was something scary about that woman who promised so much.

She had to admit she was tempted by the lure of precious jewels and pretty dresses. A life away from the squalor and dirt that clung like a filthy blanket. But she had something Marie-Claire didn’t, a family who loved her and she would miss them desperately if she were to leave.

Thinking of her family made her feel secure but that ended very quickly when she was grabbed from behind and a small cold knife was pressed against her throat.

“I thought you weren’t interested in grown up games the other evening.” The woman’s voice purred. 

”Yet tonight you are strutting around like a proper little whore.”

“I’m… I’m … just looking for my friend. Where did you take her?”

“I’m not sure that’s a concern of yours. Tell me why I shouldn’t just slit your throat here and now?”

“I made a mistake the other night. I should have followed you too.” 

“So you wish to join us now?”

“Yes.”

“You might just be in luck, we leave for London tonight.”

The woman removed the blade from Suzanne’s throat and surveyed her potential protégé carefully. 

“You are much plainer than your friend but you certainly have some spirit. Perhaps we could use a girl like you after all.” She laughed then, a laugh which echoed portentously through the dark deserted streets.

As Athos watched the scene unfold from the shadows he felt a coldness spread down his spine that had nothing to do with the air temperature.

Just observing the way the older woman walked around her victim was enough to know who she was but the boldness of her laugh made something inside him snap. 

Silently, swiftly, he removed his pistol and took aim. The last night they met he had promised her he would kill her if she ever returned to Paris and once again he had a clear shot of his prey. He was a man of honour and principle, this time he must not fail. But in the time it takes a heart to beat his finger hesitated on the trigger and that was all it took for d’Artagnan to spot what was happening.

Forcing his friend’s hand downwards he shook his head. “Athos you can’t,” he whispered with great urgency.

Athos glared angrily at d’Artagnan although mostly he was annoyed with himself, he had played a part in making Milady de Winter the woman she was today and he would never truly be free of her.

“We have to keep her alive to be able to follow them. It’s the only way to track down Estelle and get her back.”

Conceding his friend was right he gave orders for d’Artagnan and Porthos to follow the women on foot while he and Aramis went back to report to Treville and fetch the horses. Depending where the girls were being held they might need to ride towards Calais.

Milady de Winter had caused too much pain and misery, if she was behind this Estelle was in very grave danger indeed.

     “I’m coming with you.” Stated Treville as he mounted his horse.

“But we agreed you were too emotionally involved in this.” Retorted Athos as they prepared to set off.

“And you are not?” His look was stern. “If Milady de Winter is involved in this escapade it has gone way beyond anything either of us imagined.”

“So you don’t trust me now?”

“I trust all my men but each of us has weaknesses that can compromise the situation. We are stronger together; there are some battles we should not fight alone.”

Athos turned to Aramis who nodded sagely in agreement. Musketeers always stuck together.

And with that the men set off to join the others.

     They caught up with d’Artagnan and Porthos on the road leading to Calais.

“What took you so long?” Pothos smiled as he mounted his horse trying to lighten the mood.

Treville ignored him. “So what’s the set up?” 

“Two carriages with five or six young women in each.” Replied d’Artagnan.

“Men?”

“Four.”

“Hardly a fair fight four of them and five of us!” 

“Do you want to go home now Aramis?” Treville was not in the mood to joke.

“No Captain.” He apologised.

“What about Milady de Winter? Is she still with them?” Athos couldn’t let her escape yet again.

D’Artagnan nodded.

“Then leave her to me.”

“We must also remember some of these girls want to get away, they may fight back too.” Porthos reminded them.

“You take on the men Porthos,” said Aramis, “and I will take care of the women.”

Porthos laughed heartily knowing his friend would be a match for them all!

“We are wasting time.” Said the Captain sternly, “Once they reach Calais and set sail for England they are beyond our jurisdiction.”

     They galloped for miles before they spied the carriages, they were now so close to the sea they could smell the salty air. 

The carriages stopped and one by one the girls alighted. Each woman was dressed in fine clothes, all except one.

Aramis looked through his spy glass and noted that it was Constance’s cousin Suzanne. He prayed their plan had not put her in danger.

     She thought it was just because she had been the last to join the party, there had been no time for her ablutions; Milady had hurried them out of the house desperate to leave.

Marie-Claire and the other girls had all bathed and smelled sweet, some girls even wore flowers in their hair. They had giggled on the journey and somehow Suzanne knew some of them were sniggering at her.

Now they had stopped she looked forward to taking a stroll and breathing the fresh air but as she stretched her arms wide and faced the morning sun Milady stood in front of her.

“A maid’s job is to fetch some water not stand idle and enjoy the view.” She thrust a jug at her and pointed to a stream nearby.

It would be pointless to argue so she took the offered vessel and went about her business. No one was watching her as she scanned the horizon for the Musketeers. They were supposed to be following, keeping her in their sights. What if they had abandoned her, perhaps she should try to escape on her own?

Following the stream a little way she weighed up her options as she pretended to look for the best spot to fill the jug.

“Suzanne.”

She almost dropped the jug when she heard the man’s voice whispering her name.

It was Aramis, so he had come to rescue her after all, her heart skipped a beat.

He held a finger to his lips and she made no sound.

“Call one of the men to help you?” He said softly and she smiled in reply understanding his plan when she saw his sword in his hand.

“Help! I need some help!” she shouted.

     Milady heard her calling and dispatched one of the men. “Go and see what the silly girl needs.” 

It had been a mistake to bring her; she should have just cut her throat in the alleyway. But she didn’t want to stir up too much trouble in Paris. If Athos caught her there she might not be spared again. Yet she knew as she walked the familiar streets she was all the time anticipating another meeting. Her desire for him was still so strong; at times it almost overwhelmed her.

He had told her to go to England and she had obeyed like a faithful wife. In London she had met a man with a proclivity for Parisian girls and for a price she promised him a good selection to choose from.

The operation was risky getting so many girls out of France at once. Perhaps her plans had been a bit audacious but they were nearly there without a hitch.

     The man approached Suzanne with a scowl. He’s been promised a night with a woman of his choosing and this one was last on his list. She still looked like a street urchin, he could have stayed in Paris for one like her.

“I’ve got my foot stuck.” She smiled up at him helplessly. As he bent to free her foot she lifted up a rock and smashed it on his head.

Aramis stepped out from behind a tree his sword now redundant, “Well that will work as well as this I suppose!”

He checked for a pulse and muttered a prayer for the departed.

“I just killed a man?” The colour drained from her face and she looked as if she would faint.

Aramis nodded and wrapped his arms about the frightened child.

Her small frame shook as she sobbed.

“Hush now, you have been so very brave.” He soothed her hair and taking her by the hand he led her back to his horse. All the while watching, making sure they had not been seen. She needed to be taken back to where the other Musketeers were still in hiding. He had to uphold his promise to keep her safe.

“One man down, one lady freed.” He exclaimed to Porthos when he returned and helped Suzanne down from the horse.

“Are we keeping score? Do you want to make a wager?”

“Now is not the time.” Athos pushed past them and stood beside Treville. He was looking through the spyglass for Estelle, frustrated that he had no idea what she looked like.

     It was Marie-Claire who gave Suzanne away.

“Where’s Suzanne?” She enquired of Milady, “the one you sent for water?”

Looking over towards the stream she saw the man slumped on the ground, the girl nowhere in sight.

“I’m so thirsty.” another girl whined.

Turning around Milady slapped her hard across the cheek with the full force of her anger. She wasn’t putting up with this aggravation. 

There was a faint rumble of horses’ hooves getting stronger.

“Get in the carriage.” She yelled.

“But the horses aren’t rested Milady!”

She pulled out a pistol from the folds of her skirt and waved it at the driver, “Get the horses harnessed we leave NOW!”

A shot was fired.

There was screaming from some of the girls and the panic spread. As she took in the scene she saw they were down to just two men now, one lay rolling on the floor in agony clutching his side.

Her heart quickened when she spied the blue cloaks of the Musketeers billowing in the wind as they approached. The thought that Athos may be so close almost left her breathless.

Quickly regaining her senses she stepped up into the carriage, four sensible girls had indeed clambered in and were eagerly waiting, they were pretty enough she supposed. She could leave the others behind to fend for themselves.

“Drive.” she yelled and they set off at speed. She fired a parting shot through the window. It hit the whining girl and she was glad, it would add to the confusion and slow down the Musketeers. They would always stop to help a damsel in distress, it was the honourable thing to do.

     Treville was the first to reach her; he jumped off his horse and brushed the hair from her face searching it for some familiar features.

“Estelle?” he enquired tenderly.

“No Monsieur she is Severine. Is she badly hurt?”

But Treville had already turned away. “Estelle!” he called frantically.

“But what about Severine, will she be alright?”

Aramis bent down and he too looked at the girl. She was badly shaken but the wound on her arm appeared superficial.

“She will be fine.” He assured her. “Now over there by the stream you will find a jug. Can you bring me some water?”

“Is that where Suzanne went?”

“Yes. Are you Marie-Claire? Suzanne is safe, now if you do as I ask we can help Severine too.” His calm voice gave instructions and Marie-Claire was glad to be of service. 

Porthos went to check the injured man, he needed to make sure he was unarmed and couldn’t cause them any more trouble before helping Aramis with the young women, it was only fair.

Athos watched as a bereft Treville asked each girl where his daughter was. None remembered Estelle. Had they come all this way for nothing? He re-mounted his horse and rode on.

“Aramis, you and Porthos stay here and sort out this mess. D’Artagan you come with me and the Captain.” He gave his horse a kick and they followed after Treville.

     They caught up with the carriage at the docks and the ship was waiting.

At the sight of three Musketeers with swords drawn the men scarpered. This was supposed to be an easy job. They had delivered Milady de Winter to Calais and didn’t want to get entangled in her business affairs any further.

Milady stepped out of the carriage and faced him.

“We’re not in Paris anymore Athos.” Her voice was seductive, “And we are leaving. I am taking these young ladies to London.” One by one she helped the girls from the carriage, she hoped the men wouldn’t cause a scene.

“I forbid this.” It was unlike Treville to be out with his men she thought.

“On what grounds Captain? I’ve not kidnapped them, they are here of their own choosing, running away from families who don’t give a damn about them. I am giving them a life, a chance for a new start. Don’t we all deserve a second chance?“  She looked directly at Athos as she spoke.

“That’s very altruistic of you. I’ve never seen you as the maternal type.” He replied.

“Perhaps you bring out the best in me.” she simpered taking a step towards him.

They could have had their own children by now if life had turned out differently.

Treville addressed her, “Some of these girls do have families that care for them. Which one of you is Estelle?”

“I am Estelle.” The young woman removed the hood of her cloak and shook out her auburn hair. The sunlight danced on her curls reminding him of Celeste on their wedding day.

“Cel…,” he began but decided better of using her name. “Your mother has asked me to bring you home.”

“Tell her not to worry. She’ll be better off without me. She spends her days working and her nights crying over my dead brother. After a little while she won’t notice that I’ve left. Besides I’m not staying in that stinking pit a moment longer.”

“But you are coming back with me.” He moved towards her reaching out his hand, wanting so much to hold her but frightened of pushing her away.

“Who do you think you are? My father?”

Milady looked between father and daughter and figured it out. She grabbed the girl. “She really is your daughter isn’t she? Estelle Treville, daughter of a Musketeer. I have got myself a prize catch.”

“Leave her alone,” Athos commanded.

“No, she is my guarantee of safe passage out of France. But then again as you have already shown you cannot kill me can you Athos?” Her eyes sparkled as she taunted him.

His anger intensified.

“You can’t be my father. He is dead,” said the girl but looking carefully at him now she wasn’t so sure. 

She had a memory of a day with a picnic and a parade, watching the Musketeers pass by in their blue cloaks. Her mother the happiest she had ever been and yet in bed that night she wept so hard that Estelle worried she was dying.

From that day on her mother pushed them both harder. Working and hoping to escape but they never seemed to be able to lift themselves from their dire predicament.

Estelle started to cry, suddenly frightened for her life.

“I said leave her alone.” Athos held back the Captain with his arm and moved closer to Milady. ”If the other girls want to travel with you that is up to them. Maybe you are right and they will have a better life, more refined and comfortable. But Estelle stays. She has a family who loves her. A family who need her.”

As Athos got nearer and nearer Milady’s grip loosened on Estelle and she was able to break free into the arms of her father.

Now Athos and Milady were standing so close they were breathing the same exquisite air.

He didn’t want to kiss her but there was a deep longing to taste her again and their lips collided almost out of habit.

Their kiss was passionate, vital, each of them taking from the other. Knowing this would be their last but knowing they could never truly break free.

“Now go.” He  said quietly not looking at her anymore.

“You are free to join her.” D’Artagnan spoke to the other girls who all looked bemused at what had just happened but they dutifully followed Milady onto the ship. “So you think they will really have a better life with her?” He asked his friend but Athos just turned and walked away.

     They stayed in Calais that night. Aramis and Porthos joining them with the other young ladies. Not all were eager to get back to Paris but most of them had seen enough adventure to last a lifetime.

Athos joined them the next morning and no one asked where he had been. They knew it was a dark place full of regret and recriminations. 

However Captain Treville took him aside and dared ask him one thing. “Do you forgive her now?”

“I will never forgive her.” He answered without a moment’s hesitation. “ But you should forgive Celeste. You have so much more to lose than I do and everything to gain.” They both glanced over at Estelle standing beside d’Artagnan. 

Treville thanked God for the second chance he’d so graciously been given.

While Athos’s heart cracked a little bit more knowing that he would never experience such joy but as ever he kept his emotions to himself.

     Celeste’s steps didn’t falter this time, she walked straight through the gates to the Musketeer’s quarters with no fear.

“Good morning Madame Treville.” Athos gifted her with a rare smile as he spoke, he was pleased the Captain was making amends for his past.

Her own smile was beaming as she greeted all the Musketeers assembled.

“How is your ankle now Madame?” enquired Aramis.

“Much better thanks to your expert attention.”

“Ah he has a magic touch.”  added Porthos and they nearly all laughed.

D’Artagnan spoke next, “Madame Bonecieux says Estelle is being a great help to her with her sewing, she has several extra orders I believe.”

“Oh I don’t like to get involved in the affairs of others,” she replied with a knowing look. “But Estelle is blossoming and enjoying her work. Constance is a great teacher and becoming a good friend to us both.”

Treville watched his wife talking to his men as he walked down the stairs. The years seemed to have lifted from her and her eyes sparkled. She looked just like the girl he had married all those years ago.

“Haven’t you lot got work to do?” He admonished them cheerfully.

“Come on,“ said Athos, “I’m sure we can find some useful employment elsewhere.”

However once they stood alone, face to face, both of them was unsure where to begin.

“Is that a new dress?” He finally said admiringly.

“Constance made it for me but when I enquired as to the cost she said the account had been settled.”

“Ah.” He said.

“I thought perhaps I should say thank you.”

“For the dress?”

“For everything.”

“And what will you do now, stay with Madame Bonecieux?”

“I’m undecided.”

“Because you could come and live with me as my wife. If you wanted. It’s not unheard of for a captain of the Musketeers to be married.”

She looked at him hardly able to take in what he was proposing. It was more than she had dreamed of and she was lost for words.

He filled in the silence.

“But, I’ve said this all wrong. I should have apologised first. I am so sorry for, for everything I put you through. For not trusting your judgement, for leaving. You have been such a wonderful mother to Estelle and I have been such a fool. Can you forgive me?” The words tumbled out quickly, how could he put right the last sixteen years? Could they live as man and wife again with all that had happened between them?

She lifted her finger and placed it gently on his lips, “Shush, there really is nothing to forgive. It was a dark time for both of us. Let the past stay in the past and let’s live for now.”

He softly kissed her finger and she moved her hand to catch the sprinkling of grey hairs that now framed his rugged face. They had wasted too much time.

Then his hands found her hips, the new fabric of her dress firm to touch, unblemished by stains, a symbol of a fresh beginning. 

He gently drew her towards him. “I still love you Madame Treville.”

These were the words she’d been aching to hear him say from the moment she first saw him again and pleaded for his help. She loved him too, her heart soared and she felt like she was flying on the wings of an eagle.

Leaning in towards him she felt his warm breath on her face and then unsurprisingly he kissed her!

THE END