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Chapter Text

Seventeen year old Corinne D'Artagnan looked up at the palace in awe. Today was the day. She'd been training her whole life for this.

The day she would finally become a musketeer.

Her father had been a great musketeer. He would come home with stories of adventure and daring rescues and sword fights. Corinne would sit in his lap and listen, or they would fence with the ends of broomsticks, laughing wildly when they would accidentally break. He taught her everything she knew and she hoped to make him proud by following in his footsteps.

She took a deep breath and confidently strode into the captain of the musketeers office.

...

Unbelievable! Corinne stomped through the castle gardens. Her meeting with Monsieur Treville had not gone as she'd expected. Her training was good, he had said, but not good enough. Besides, there simply were no female musketeers.

Besides his skills with a blade, another thing Corinne had inherited from her father was his temper. She trampled flowers as she fumed, crushing lilacs and daffodils under her feet. She was about to turn on the rose bush when a plump, red-haired woman caught her by the arm and dragged her inside.

"You," she spat, "you are late."

"Uh, pardon?"

"Are you not my new maid?"

"Maid?" Corinne asked incredulously "I came here to be a musketeer."

The woman laughed. "There are no female musketeers. Now, do you want a job or not?"

Corinne's blood boiled. How dare this woman speak to her that way! She opened her mouth to decline, then quickly shut it. She could go back to the farm; her mother would welcome her with open arms. Or she could stay in Paris and fight. She wasn't going to give up that easily. She would be a musketeer.

"Well?" The woman's foot tapped against the tile.

"Yes, Madame. I accept."

"Excellent. Come with me."

Neither woman noticed the figure watching silently from inside the far wall. His brown eyes burned with intrigue as he recalled the blonde girl's words.

"I came here to be a musketeer."

With a flourish of his cape, he descended into darkness.

Chapter Text

Over the next couple of weeks, Corinne found life as a palace maid wasn’t as horrible as she’d anticipated. The work was fairly easy and the pay was decent; the chambers she and her fellow maids shared was spacious and had a lovely view, so she had little to complain about.

Corinne adored the other maids. The four of them had gotten off to a rocky start, but soon enough found themselves giggling over silly things like most girls would. Renée was strong and intelligent. If any of the girls needed advice, she was who they would turn to. Poised and a little sassy, Viveca had quite the eye for fashion. A tear in their uniforms would last no longer than a few hours under her supervision. Aramina had the grace of a prima ballerina and a romantic’s soul. She often told of the stories and legends surrounding Paris and the ancient castle while they worked.

However, Corinne did not tell her friends about her dreams to be a musketeer out of fear of being scolded or ridiculed.

They were cleaning the ballroom for an event later that night.

“Corinne, have I told you the legend of the Palace Phantom?”

“Oh no,” Renée groaned.

“Here we go again.” Viveca shook her head.

Corinne looked up from her work. “The Palace Phantom?”

“Yes,” Aramina said ignoring her complaining friends. “The legend tells of a mysterious being living beneath the palace. He walks in shadow and the catacombs are his dominion.”

“But why is he called a phantom?”

“Because,” Aramina’s voice lowered, “no one has ever really seen him. And those who claim to have seen him, say he has two faces instead of one. Half the most handsome man you’ll ever see.”

“And the other half?”

“Like that of a corpse.”

Corinne gasped. Renée rolled her eyes.

Aramina grinned. “He keeps it covered with a white mask. That’s where the name phantom comes from. It is also said that he is responsible for the disappearance of Prince L-”

“Aramina, hold your tongue!” Madame Hélène, the elderly groundskeeper scolded. All four girls flinched; she had come out of nowhere. “You will find that prudent silence is wise.”

“Yes, Mama. I am sorry.”

“Good. Now all of you, please return to your work. Silently.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Moments later a sort of chill filled the room. Aramina’s head snapped up.

“He has eyes everywhere,” she whispered as if she was in a trance. “Always watching. Always listening.” Her chin fell and she continued working.

“What the hell was that, Aramina?” Renée hissed.

“What do you mean?”

“That whole ‘Phantom is watching you’ business you just said.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Oh, yes you did. We heard you.”

Viveca nodded. “Oui.”

“You did, Aramina.” Corinne added.

“I did not!” Aramina protested, tears filling her eyes. “Mama told me to stop, so I did!”

“You’re lying!”

“I am not!”

“Quiet! Someone’s coming!”

Each girl diligently threw herself into her work.

Count Philippe strode into view, Monsieur Treville trailing at his heels. “…and as you know my dear uncle has never been the same since cousin Louis passed aw-” He ran straight into Corinne. “You! Watch where you’re-” He stopped abruptly.

“I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace.” She offered.

His eyes ran over the blonde maid. Corinne suppressed the urge to shudder. “Oh, no Mademoiselle. The fault is entirely mine. Pardon me.” He continued walking.

Aramina giggled. “Is he not the dreamiest?”

“Count Philippe?” Viveca asked, visibly disgusted. “He’s easily twice your age!”

The red-head sighed.

There came a great snap and the grand chandelier plummeted down, narrowly missing the Count. The man in the shadows cried out in frustration. Shards of glass flew in all directions and using her broom as a sword, Corinne beat back the pieces headed in towards her. He gasped at her skill. Maybe this attempt hadn’t been a waste after all.

The musketeers rushed into the ball room.

“What happened?”

“We heard a crash.”

“Are you blind?” The Count shouted. “That chandelier barely missed me! Where were you?”

The musketeers said nothing.

“As I thought,” he growled. “You four,” he gestured to Corinne and her friends, “clean this mess at once!”

Count Philippe stomped from the room, muttering something about ghosts.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Louis hated more than anything else in the world, it that wretched, loathsome, pathetic excuse for a human being Count Philippe. His cousin.

Cousin. He spat the word. To think he was related to that vile creature. Louis shuddered. His hidden-blade belt mechanism hadn't worked. Poison hadn't worked. Dropping the chandelier hadn't worked! Philippe was craftier that Louis had anticipated. He both admired his skill and despised it. But Louis was even craftier. He had nearly ten years to perfect his technique. Philippe would pay for his misdeeds. And he knew exactly what to do next.

While the chandelier had failed him, Louis discovered something far more useful than a suspended death-trap. He had never really paid much attention to the palace staff, Madame de Bossé hired and fired so often he found it difficult to keep track of them, but from the moment the blonde maid arrived she intrigued him. She displayed intelligence. She showed ferocity. Despite her technique being quite sloppy, she knew her way with a blade.

He was going to teach her. Under him, she would become an excellent swordsman- even better than the musketeers; although, those fools were no better than she at the present moment. He grinned as the plan unfolded itself in his mind. No one would expect it. This started now.

Louis moved through the passageways swift and silent as an apparition. He chuckled to himself. How fitting they called him a phantom! He crossed under the garden and up the staircase to the staff quarters. Come to me, he beckoned and on his flute, he played a haunting melody.

The red-haired maid never failed. Her light heart and mind so easily deceived. She stood in front of the mirror waiting. Louis clicked the mechanism open and the mirror slid aside. She stepped into the corridor.

"You called, master?"

"Yes, my dear." He cooed. "Tell me, what is the name of your fellow worker, the blonde one?"

"Corinne D'Artagnan, from Gascony."

D'Artagnan. He knew that name. A fine musketeer the man had been. That explained her skills.

"I wish to speak with her. Bring her to me. Tonight."

"Yes, master."

"Good. I will expect you within the hour. Now return to your quarters."

She moved back into the room and Louis once more crept through the darkness.

...

"Corinne."

The blonde groaned.

"Corinne."

She covered her face with a pillow.

"Corinne."

Her eyes flew open and she glared at her friend. "What on earth could you possibly want at this hour, Aramina?"

"Come with me." Mechanically, she rose from the bed.

"Excuse me?"

"Come with me." She lit a candle.

"Aramina, what are you talking about? Come where?"

She stood in front of the mirror. "Come with me."

"Aramina, this isn't fu-" The words died on her lips as the mirror moved to one side and Aramina stepped inside.

"Come with me."

Shaking, Corinne rose from her bed and followed. The mirror closed behind them.

"A secret passageway!" She gasped. "But where does it lead? Where are we going?"

"My master wishes to see you."

"I don't understand. Where are you taking me?"

Aramina simply kept walking. Corinne shivered, but went along. She didn't know how long they had been walking when Aramina finally stopped. A dissonant, eerie tune tickled her eardrums. Aramina looked quite pleased.

"I have brought her, master."

A man's voice rang out from the shadows. "Well done, my dear. You may return now. I will call for you when I am finished."

The red-head curtsied and disappeared into the passageways.

"Who are you?" Corinne demanded. "What have you done to Aramina?"

"Your friend is fine," the voice assured, soft as velvet. "Now, think fast!"

A sword sailed in Corinne's direction. The moment she caught it, a figure dressed in black leapt into the dim candlelight.

"En gardè, my dear!" He cried and lunged at her, blade in hand.

She parried his attack, followed with a swift riposte. He darted out from her reach and passed his sabre with her own. He's good, she thought, but I'm better. They danced back and forth. Patinado. Reprise. Mandritti. She couldn't remember the names anymore. Their blades caught in a bind and for a moment they stood inches apart, gazing as intently at one another as lovers. His lips twisted into a smile and he thrust her to the ground, effectively knocking the sword from her hand. The tip of his sabre hovered over the base of her throat.

"Your skill is impressive," he said, "but your technique is sloppy. Although, that shouldn't surprise me, you're from the country. No doubt you were trained in a barn."

Corinne opened her mouth to speak, but continued.

"You have courage though, I'll give you that. And half Treville's musketeers couldn't pull off what you just did. It's settled then. I will train you if you wish."

"You, what?"

He pulled her to her feet. "I will not repeat myself. If you wish to be a musketeer, I will provide you with the necessary skills."

"I hardly know you."

"That would resolve itself quickly, I'd imagine."

Corinne swallowed hard. "Will I become like Aramina?"

"Oh no. Your will is much too strong."

She shuddered.

His voice softened. "I will not hurt you if that is what you are afraid of. Don't you wish to become a better swordsman?"

She nodded. "And what is it you want from me in return?"

"I will teach you under one condition. You must pledge your absolute loyalty to me. You must carry out my orders without question or the slightest hesitation. You will drop everything and come if I call. Do we have a deal, Corinne D'Artagnan?"

"How do you know my full name?"

"It's like your friend said, I have eyes everywhere." She had not noticed the mask covering the right side of his face until that moment. Her heart felt as though it would leap from her chest. Still, this man and his offer intrigued her. She could almost imagine the look on Treville's face when she bested all of his musketeers.

"I accept."

"Excellent." He clapped his hands together. "We begin tomorrow night. Aramina will show you the way out."

"Will she remember any of this?" Corinne asked.

"No. To her, this is all a dream."

"All right." Corinne said wondering what she had just gotten herself into.

Chapter Text

In her three months working at the palace, Corinne had learned more about swordsmanship and fighting than she had in seventeen years of training back on her family farm. Her days were spent cleaning the corridors, then fencing with her teacher below into the wee hours of the night. It was exhausting. Some days she felt like quitting her midnight lessons, but then she remembered that musketeers never quit and she certainly wasn't about to simply because she was tired. In the end, she knew it would be worth it. Her teacher promised that much.

Corinne still did not know much about the man who now claimed lordship over her. He hardly spoke at all during their sessions unless it was to chastise her and he never once removed the porcelain mask covering the right half of his face. She often wondered if he was some sort of criminal and the mask helped to hide his identity, but then why not cover his whole face. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps he was just eccentric. She tried not to think about it as the mirror slid open.

He was not there.

Corinne's brow furrowed. He was never tardy to their sessions and would sharply scold her if she was even the slightest bit late. What if he didn't want to teach her anymore? Anguish washed through her. How would she become a musketeer now?

A dim, flickering light caught her attention. She moved towards it, though it was further down the passageway than she had ever been. The light seemed to beckon her.

He was there surrounded by countless open books, scribbling furiously in an open volume in front of him. He flipped the pages of a few books and wrote more.

"Teacher?" Corinne called. He did not turn. "I am here for my lesson."

He made no motions to suggest he had even heard her. His focus was entirely on the books he was reading.

Corinne dared to move closer. Still, he did nothing. A dangerous thought seeped into her mind and before she could stop herself, her hand tore away the mask.

An inhuman wail filled her ears as he advanced upon her. Corinne toppled backwards, eyes wide.

"Damn you!" He roared, his brown eyes wild. "Curse you!" He caught her by the wrists. "Is this what you wanted to see?!" The left side of his face was like any normal man, handsome even, but the right… Corinne gasped, stifling the urge to scream.

The skin was a deathly pale pulled taut over crooked muscles. His eyelid sagged and drooped, and Corinne swore his right eye was a lighter brown than the left. The right side of his nose collapsed in on itself. There was a deep gash on his forehead, exposing what she hoped wasn't bone, that looked as if it had never healed. His upper lip was swollen and distorted.

"Damn you," he said again, though much quieter, and released her. Corinne crept away from him quick as she could.

Another wail washed through the great underground corridor.

"Oh Corinne," he moaned, his face in his hands, shoulders hunched and shaking violently. It took her a moment to realize he was sobbing.

Pity swelled in Corinne's heart. Feeling rather guilty for what she had done, she inched towards her grief-stricken teacher, and with a trembling hand held the mask out to him. He snatched it greedily and replaced it, smoothing out his long dark hair.

"All right then," he cleared this throat and rose to his feet, pulling Corinne up with him. "You have to leave now. Our normal lessons will resume tomorrow night." He presented her a rose produced from thin air and took several steps back. Before she could blink, he was gone.

Corinne stood there feeling cold and alone, wishing it had all been a dream.

Chapter Text

Corinne spent the rest of that night tossing and turning in her bed, unable to lose herself in sleep. Each time she closed her eyes he was there standing over her, brown eyes burning with unforgivable rage, the scarred side of his face glaring at her unholy in the candlelight. She shuddered and pulled the coverlet her head.

Morning couldn't come fast enough.

For most of the day, Corinne worked alone. Madame Hélène asked her once if everything was all right and she simply nodded, prompting a highly suspicious look from the older woman. She let the subject drop, however, stating Corinne was needed in the ballroom. Broom in hand, she trudged slowly from the kitchens to the ballroom.

As she walked, her mind raced through the events of the previous night. Her wrists still throbbed from his fierce grip and his cry rang through her ears. A look of pure hatred twisted his already distorted features as he cursed her over and over. Corinne contemplated never going back. Sure, being a musketeer was her dream job, but her teacher was a right madman. She would be mad herself to return to him!

Perhaps she was mad. Those same eyes that scorched fear into her very being looked so sad, so broken. Almost like a frightened child. In his eyes, all the sadness of the world, she thought. Perhaps she would return to him…

"Corinne!" Aramina called, pulling the blonde girl from her reverie. "Over here!"

"We're washing the windows today, so you won't need that," Renée said. Corinne shrugged and lay her broom against a wall. She retrieved a rag from the bucket on the floor, rung out the excess water, and set to work.

Viveca, who was washing the window beside her, gasped. "Corinne! What happened?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said as innocently as possible.

"Your wrists, Corinne. They're bruised pretty badly."

Aramina and Renée stopped what they were doing and looked.

"Oh, that. I, uh, don't know how that happened," Corinne offered pathetically.

"Are you sure?" Renée examined the garish purple markings. "It looks like someone grabbed you and squeezed hard."

Someone did, but she couldn't tell them that her disfigured fencing instructor flew into a rage after she removed his mask. They wouldn't believe her. "Yes, ah, I… Well, I, um-"

"Corinne," Aramina stopped her, "You don't have to say it. I understand. Your secret is safe with me."

Corinne's eyes widened. "You mean, you know?"

"Of course I do! It's obvious."

"It is?"

"Yes," the red-head giggled. Corinne's heart raced. He said she wouldn't remember! "But you have to tell me his name."

"W-W-What?" Corinne stammered.

"Your lover," Aramina said as if it was evident to everyone in the room. "You've been sneaking out every night to meet him."

Corinne's face grew hot. That's what she thought? Her teacher was a dead man. Though, it made for a decent cover, better than anything she could come up with anyways, so Corinne went along with it.

"I can't tell you his name," her voice lowered. "It's better for the both of us that way."

Aramina squealed. "Ooh, Corinne this is so exciting! He's a member of the royal court, isn't he? But who?" She pranced around the room like a giddy child.

Renée shot Corinne a look that said, "I hope you know what you've just gotten yourself into."

Corinne nodded.

"I know!" Aramina gasped. "It's Count Philippe, right?"

Viveca groaned. "Not this again."

"What?"

Corinne tuned them out and continued cleaning.

...

Night fell over the city of lights.

Standing on front of the mirror, Corinne threw one last glance over her shoulder making sure her friends were indeed asleep. When they did not stir she clicked the mechanism that rolled the mirror from its usual place and stared into the passageway. She drew in a deep breath and retrieved the nearest candelabra before stepping into the dark tunnel. The mirror returned to its rightful place behind her.

The distance to the correct passageway seemed somehow shorter. Before she knew it, Corinne stood face to face with the man who called himself her teacher. He threw a sword in her direction and she almost didn't catch it.

"Now that you are here," he said without missing a beat, drawing his own blade, "we begin." He lunged forward.

Corinne dropped her sword and held her arms up in a gesture of surrender. "Wait! Please!"

"What?!" He spat.

"I'm sorry, all right! I didn't mean to remove your mask! I don't know what came over me! But I promise it will never happen again!"

He eyed her suspiciously. "You swear it?"

She met his gaze and fought back the urge to rush forward and take him into her arms. In his eyes, all the sadness of the world. "I swear."

"All right then. Let's begin."

"Wait!"

He groaned. "Now what?"

"I believe you owe me an apology as well."

"I most certainly do not." He crossed his arms against his chest.

"You most certainly do! Or do you not remember this?" She thrust her bruised wrists forward. He flinched. "Do you have any idea what I went through today because of these?"

He remained silent.

"Well?" She asked.

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to apologize?"

"You ripped my mask off!" He shouted. "I hardly find an apology on my account necessary!"

"I hurt you, I understand that now," her voice was calm and even. "I didn't mean to, so I apologized. And whether you meant to or not, you hurt me as well. Am I not entitled to some sympathy?"

He stared at her and she watched as the fire drained from his eyes, replaced by an inkling of affection. Corinne couldn't look away.

Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore.

"All right," he grumbled halfheartedly, a smile tugging at the visible corner of his mouth. "I apologize for hurting you, Corinne."

"Thank you."

Now, that we've taken care of things," he unsheathed his blade once more, "we begin."

Corinne bit her lip. "One more thing?"

He sighed. "What?"

"Tell me your name."

He stiffened.

"Please? I'd like to think we were friends and friends call each other by their names."

Still, he did not relax.

"Teacher? I am so-"

"Louis," he whispered. "My name is Louis."

"Louis," she repeated, testing the name on her lips. He shivered. "Well Louis, let's begin."

Chapter Text

In the quiet hours of morning, before the dew has settled and the sun could rise, two lone figures stood on the mist clouded banks of the Seine. At their feet lay several large crates filled with various foods, fabrics, and a decent supply of parchment and ink.

"Surely Louis, you can think of better things to do with your time than terrorize my maids and felling chandeliers on unsuspecting, albeit deserving Counts," the smaller of the two figures said, tone scolding.

Louis chucked. "Indeed, Hélène. You may rest easy, however. My newest projects have been quite demanding." Already his mind drifted towards the cavern where his designs were. His fingers itched to test out the durability and weight of the new fabrics she had brought him.

"I see," Hélène's eyes narrowed. "And which of these projects include my daughter and her friend Corinne?"

Louis blinked in surprise.

"You thought I wouldn't notice, did you?" Hélène shook her head. "You of all people should know otherwise. I know everything that goes on in that castle. Now tell me, what you are doing that involves them."

"I thought you knew everything that goes on in that castle," Louis teased. The older woman glared at him. "All right. Your daughter is of use by simply spreading the stories. No one dares to explore the castle grounds because of her. Miss D'Artagnan, on the other hand, has indicated she wishes to join the ranks of the musketeers. I am merely providing her with the necessary skills to do so."

"Is that all?"

"Of course. I would never lie to you, Hélène."

"Is that so? Than perhaps you can tell me exactly how Corinne acquired those bruises?"

Louis cursed. Damn her perceptiveness!

"I swear Louis, if you are hurting either of them in any way-"

"Enough!" He shouted. "It was simply a… misunderstanding. We've already made our peace with it."

Hélène's arms crossed. "You still haven't answered my question."

"She removed my mask," Louis said through clenched teeth. "I lost my temper. By the time I realized what I was doing, it was already done."

"I see."

"I'm not proud of it, Hélène. I've hurt men far worse for far less. However, I promise you that no harm will befall our little Corinne while I am teaching her. Or any of your maids for that matter, whether it be by my hand or not."

"Our Corinne, is it?" Hélène smirked. "Do you have feelings for the girl?"

Louis snorted. "Is a teacher not allowed to care for the well-being of his pupil?"

"If that's what you prefer to call it," Hélène nodded. "Very well then. I believe I've a castle to tend to, if that's all."

"Right. Same time next week?"

"Of course, Monsieur Rousseau."

The two figures and their spoils disappeared into the mist. Above the river, the sun began to rise.

Chapter Text

Sleep seemed impossible for Louis. While he was physically exhausted from the day's work, his mind raced, dreaming up new designs and possibilities for his most precious project. The familiar urge to create caused his fingers to twitch. With a sigh he tossed back the coverlet and rose from his bed. Lighting a single candle, he strode barefoot down the corridor to the room that held all his designs. Immediately he immersed himself in what would become the greatest invention known to mankind.

A machine that would enable man to fly.

Louis traced the drawing with the tip of his finger. It was a simple device, really. A small furnace would heat up the surrounding air causing the fabric balloon to expand and rise, taking the furnace and attached basket with it. The only issue at the moment was figuring out the exact weight and size required of each item for a proper take off. He grinned. As soon as this mess with Philippe was over, he could work on his inventions uninterrupted. He flipped through the book some more, but found the designs could no longer hold his attention.

What would he do after Philippe was gone? Surely he wouldn't live under the palace anymore. Hélène had assured him on many occasions that the country estate he had purchased on a whim several years back was perfectly habitable, but he could hardly imagine himself living in a home surrounded by sunlight. And what of essentials like food and such? A normal man could go to the market himself, but Louis was not a normal man and relied on Hélène to bring him the things he needed. Of course, he could always ask Hélène and her daughter to come with him. He would have to stop using that flute on Aramina, though. It was fun when they were children, but now… Louis shook his head. He would not allow himself to dwell on such thoughts now. Wasn't he supposed to be working? He groaned and once more tried to focus on the designs.

This was going to be a long night.

...

Laughter echoed through the corridors.

Corinne danced back and forth, her blade slicing the air with practiced precision. Louis grinned. She had improved greatly since that first night. Of course, she was nowhere near as good as he, but her progress was quite pleasing. When the time came she would make a fine musketeer.

She lunged forward, her sword clashing with his own. Again Louis found himself immensely pleased with his protégé. She fought with such passion. It was a pity, however, that she did not pay close enough attention to her footing. Seconds later she was on the ground, chest heaving, blonde hair freed from its usual bun and cascading down her shoulders. Her blue eyes gazed intently into his.

The image before him changed and suddenly she was no longer on the ground, but sprawled across the sheets of his bed, dark eyes filled with desire, arms reaching out…

Louis rapidly shook his head and pulled Corinne to her feet.

"That will be all for tonight," he fought to keep his voice even. "You have to leave now."

"All right," she said, clearly confused but she did not argue. The moment she was out of sight, Louis ran.

He burst into his design room and tried to lose himself in the specifics of his flying machine. His hand flew across the paper, sketching the balloon he'd imagined hundreds of times. This isn't happening, he told himself. I'm dreaming. Any second now, I'll wake up. But he wasn't sleeping, he soon realized.

Louis groaned. How could I let this happen? I promised myself I wouldn't! He looked down on the paper in his trembling hands. In exact detail, Corinne smiled at him.

"NO!" He roared before ripping the drawing to shreds. "I can't be- I'm not-" He wrestled with the words, fighting until he had no strength left to deny them.

He was in love with Corinne D'Artagnan.

Looking back, he didn't know how he hadn't seen it. It was so painfully obvious that even Hélène had figured it out before him. Louis cursed. If his feelings truly were that obvious did Corinne know? Oh God. What if she knew? His heart beat so rapidly he thought it would burst from his chest at any moment. No, he reasoned. Corinne couldn't know. She wasn't observant enough, not like Hélène. And she would never know. This would be the secret he'd carry to his grave. It made his leaving all the more necessary. Philippe would be gone, Corinne would be a musketeer, and he would be, well, he would be gone too. Tucked safely away in the country, far from prying eyes and far from Corinne.

Chapter Text

Corinne was dusting bookshelves in the library that morning. Completely lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice that she'd been dusting the same bookshelf for well over an hour. She was too worried to focus on her work.

Louis had been cancelling her lessons for a week now. The first night, she found the mirror wouldn't open and a note on her dressing table informing her of the cancellation. When she tried the following nights, the results were the same. Either Louis didn't wish to see her, or he was in some sort of trouble. Corinne disregarded the first option. He always seemed so pleased to see her and she was sure their time together was the only social interaction he got, so that couldn't be it. Right?

If Louis didn't want her around because he was in trouble, then what could she do besides wait? She shivered. She didn't want anything bad to happen to him. He was her friend and- Corinne felt her cheeks grow hot. She found it ridiculous that she had a crush on a man she hardly knew a thing about. Maybe if she didn't think about it too much…

"Corinne!"

She spun around to see Aramina rushing towards her.

"Aramina, what is it?"

"A ball, Corinne!" The red-head sighed. "A masquerade ball! Here! In two days!"

"You know this just means more work for us, right?" Corinne asked, but it was obvious Aramina wasn't listening. She twirled around the library and hummed a waltz. Corinne rolled her eyes and returned to her work.

"Mademoiselle?"

Corinne turned to see who was interrupting her this time and gasped, dipping quickly into a curtsy. "Your Grace."

Count Philippe smiled. "Good morning, my dear. I do not know if you've already been informed, but there is to be a masquerade ball in two nights' time and I would be delighted if you would accompany me."

"Me? Your Grace, I don't under-"

"My dear girl, think of this invitation as an opportunity to see what life as a princess could be like, also as an apology for nearly knocking you over while you were cleaning," Count Philippe said.

Corinne fought the urge to shudder. That happened nearly five months ago. She highly doubted he truly remembered bumping into her and hoped she was misreading his obvious intentions. But who was she to refuse royalty? With the prince gone, Count Philippe was next in line for the throne when the king passed. Plus with Louis continually cancelling her lessons, she would be free for the night. If he was doing so to avoid seeing her, then surely attending the ball would arouse his temper and he would demand she start training again. She smiled as at the thought of him possibly being jealous she was on another man's arm.

"Well, when you put it that way, I accept your invitation, Your Grace," Corinne said giving another curtsy.

"Excellent! Arrangements will be made for you tomorrow evening, mademoiselle, uh…"

"Corinne."

"Corinne," he repeated. "Until then, my dear." He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before exiting the library. Corinne released the shudder she'd been suppressing.

An almost inhuman screech told Corinne that Aramina had heard every word she and the Count has said. Corinne looked to her friend and was shocked to find tears in her green eyes.

"Aramina, what's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just so excited for you. You're going to the ball! You know how I am," she smiled, but something about her tone seemed off. Perhaps it was that she was not used to seeing Aramina cry.

"May I please go tell Viveca and Renée?"

Corinne nodded and Aramina dashed out the library doors. Alone once more, Corinne resumed dusting.

Chapter Text

True to his word, Count Philippe had sent several seamstresses to her quarters the next day. Corinne had spent the next couple of hours being poked and prodded as the women fitted an extravagant gown to her shapely frame. Now as the ball neared and she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Corinne almost didn't recognize herself.

Her blonde hair was done up in an elegant bun with a few loose ringlets framing her face. Cosmetics made her cheeks rosy and her lips crimson. Her blue eyes sparkled like the gemstones that adorned the bodice of her gown. The gown itself was gorgeous, even if the design seemed rather frivolous. In addition to the gems, it was frilly and pink with lace skirts that danced as she swayed her hips. The neckline scooped lower than she would have liked, but the tight lacings of her corset brought out her chest in what she was assured a most appealing manner.

Gone was the plain palace maid. In her place stood a princess.

Aramina squealed. "Oh Corinne, you look so beautiful!"

"Oui," Viveca agreed. "No one will be able to take their eyes off of you."

"You're just missing this," Aramina passed her a shimmering mask, covered in the same jewels as her dress. Corinne fastened it to her face and Aramina squealed again, prancing around the room excitedly. Viveca laughed and danced with her. Renée, who had been watching quietly, rose from her seat. She placed an arm around Corinne's waist.

"I've heard some rumors about the Count," she whispered. "It appears that even though he's next in line for the throne, none of the noblewomen wished to accompany him to the ball tonight. I believe "lecherous" and "appalling" were some of the words used to describe him."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm just worried about his," she bit her lip, "intentions for tonight. I wanted you to know that he might see this as an invitation to try something."

"I see," Corinne said. The thought had crossed her mind several times tonight already. It didn't matter if he was next in line for the throne, a swift kick to the groin would expel any ideas he might have. She was not some cheap whore who could be bought. "Don't worry about me, Renée. I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so."

She would have said more, but another of Aramina's delighted squeals reached her ears.

"Look at that carriage!" She bounced excitedly and pointed out the window. Corinne smiled at her friends and took one last look in the mirror. She scowled at her reflection as if Louis could somehow see it. Satisfied, she stepped out into the night.

Aramina had been right to squeal. It was a grand carriage indeed, not only the exterior, but the interior as well. Plush seats cushioned her ride around the city as the Count did not wish for her to be seen coming from the staff quarters. They looped back around the palace and Corinne caught sight of Count Philippe waiting for her on the palace steps. She supposed he cut a dashing figure. From a distance, of course.

"You look stunning, my dear," he drawled, offering a hand to help her down from the carriage. She took it and inwardly cringed at the way his eyes raked over her figure, pausing quite noticeably on her chest. She resisted the urge to slap him. With a mask covering his face it wouldn't make much of a difference.

Corinne entered the ball on his arm and was instantly mesmerized by the splendor of it. Everything was large and ornate, from the glistening new chandelier to the polished instruments of the orchestra.

"Care to dance, my dear?" Count Philippe asked. Corinne nodded and they were soon gliding gracefully across the floor. She would have to thank Aramina once more for the impromptu dance lessons.

The evening continued in the same fashion. They would dance, he would fetch them something to drink, and they would chat briefly before dancing again.

It happened in the middle of her fifth dance with the Count. He was spinning her a little too forcefully and she lost her footing. She did not fall to the ground, however, instead toppled backwards into a man's strong arms.

"Mademoiselle, are you all right?" He asked mockingly. Corinne stiffened. She knew that voice.

Louis.

Chapter Text

Louis was still holding her when Count Philippe walked over.

"So sorry, my dear," he said. "Too much wrist. You may return her to me now, Monsieur."

"I think not."

Count Philippe blinked several times, clearly surprised by his answer. "What? I don't believe you know who-"

"Oh, I know perfectly well who you are, Count," Louis spat the other man's title. "But I'm cutting in. Surely you can spare me one dance with the lady. Perhaps you'd care to fetch a drink?"

Count Philippe looked at Louis, then her, and back to Louis. "If you'll excuse me for a moment." He stalked in the direction of the punch bowl, throwing glances over his shoulder and muttering the entire time.

Corinne gulped. Louis spun her around to face him and they were soon swaying to the music. His brown eyes burned intensely into hers.

"I cannot believe that you would attend such a ridiculous event and on the arm of Philippe of all people!" He spoke through clenched teeth.

"Excuse me?" Corinne glared at him. "You're the one who's been cancelling our lessons for the past week. And why is it your business who I'm here with? Are you jealous of Count Philippe, Louis?" A small part of her wished he was.

Louis growled, pulling her closer. For a moment she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her from the ballroom. They made quite a pair; she in her shimmering, jeweled gown and he in his garish red marshall's ensemble with a matching cape billowing behind him. His stark white mask was crafted to resemble a skull.

La Mort Rouge. The Red Death, Corinne realized.

Once they were out of sight, Louis touched a spot on the wall and it opened. He thrust her into the passageways. Corinne clawed at his arm, shouting curses as he continued to drag her. He merely huffed in annoyance, throwing her over his shoulder before continuing his descent.

He dropped her rather harshly in their training room.

"Louis offers to teach you!" He shouted, chest heaving. "To take you under his wing and guide you! And you betray him!"

"I have not!" Corinne screamed. "I've done everything you said! You were the one cancelling our lessons!"

"You were with him!" He hissed.

"You mean Count Philippe?" Corinne was confused. "I don't see why that's an issue right now!"

"You belong to me!"

Corinne reached for a sword. "I am not you possession!" She lunged at him.

His cape fell from his shoulders. He pulled out a matching blade. "Yes!" He laughed maniacally. "Let us dance!"

With a resounding crack their swords met. Above them, the fireworks show had begun. For the most part Corinne dodged Louis' attacks. He swung wildly and with such force that when their blades touched, it sent reverberations throughout her entire body. She couldn't take much more of this. Seeing a chance, Corinne struck his forearm with her sword. Blood trickled to the ground.

Louis dropped his weapon. "That was a dirty move, D'Artagnan." He spat.

"You deserved it."

"I know."

Silence. She watched as the fire drained from his eyes. She also saw blood still flowing freely from the wound she'd caused. Feeling only slightly guilty, Corinne stepped towards him and began undoing the buttons on his jacket. Louis immediately jumped back.

"What are you doing?" He shrieked.

"Trying to help!" She explained. "I can't do anything about your wound with that ridiculous outfit in the way. Unless you'd prefer to bleed everywhere."

He continued to eye her suspiciously. Arms crossed, she tapped her foot waiting.

"All right," he sighed. "Fine. The washroom is this way." She followed him through the corridor, a triumphant smile on her lips.

Corinne was surprised by the size of the washroom. It was larger than she'd expected. A huge wardrobe sat opposite to an enormous tub against the far wall. There were taps on both the tub and sink, and she was shocked to find that he had running water below the castle. Another thing she observed was the explicit lack of a mirror. She shook the thought and set about her task, quickly dampening a rag.

When she turned to Louis, he had removed his jacket and shirt, both neatly folded on the countertop. She blushed a little at seeing his exposed chest and he smirked. Resisting the urge to hit him again, she touched the rag to the cut. Louis hissed.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay," Corinne said. "I wasn't thinking and-"

"Corinne, stop. You shouldn't be apologizing. I should. I was out of control and I let my temper get the best of me." He shuddered. "I hate to think of what I might have done if you hadn't snapped me out of it."

"How about we call it even?"

"Deal."

"One more thing though. What exactly is your problem with Count Philippe?" Corinne asked.

Louis shook his head. "That's a story I'd rather not get into at the moment."

"Fine. But you will have to tell me eventually."

"Not if I can help it."

...

At the masquerade ball, Philippe walked back to where he'd left his date and the strange gentleman, two drinks in hand. He would have liked to return sooner, but a conversation with Monsieur Treville and the fireworks display had detained him. He was eager to return to his date and perhaps inform the gentleman the proper way to address royalty. A few nights in the dungeon would certainly do the trick.

The gentleman was gone, however, and so was his date for that matter. Philippe cursed. A quick scan of the ballroom yielded no results. Neither were anywhere in sight. Refusing to be spurned by a mere maid, Philippe stalked out of the ballroom in search of the blonde maiden and her masked companion.

Chapter Text

Count Philippe Rousseau sat in his study, fingers folded under his chin, deep in thought. A single candle lit, he pondered over the curious events of the masquerade ball several night ago.

Despite his royal status, the noblewomen he'd invited had refused him. Left with no other option, he recalled the pretty servant girl and with a few slight changes to her appearance, escorted her instead. Yet halfway through the night she went missing after an extremely rude and overdressed young gentleman whisked her away for a dance. When confronting her the next day, she apologized profusely, stating he was an old acquaintance from her home in Gascony. Philippe didn't believe her for a second, but accepted her answer with grace. It wouldn't do any good if she were suspicious. Then she could warn her friend.

There had been many "accidents" on his person over the years. Poison in his cup. A belt that released a small, venom dipped blade when latched. A cobra set loose in his chambers. The list continued with the years, including nearly being crushed by the grand chandelier several months ago. Could the garishly dressed man have been behind these attempts and the girl his accomplice? It made sense. Although, from what he'd heard she only recently started working at the palace.

Something about this young man didn't sit right with Philippe, however. It almost seemed as if he knew him somehow. That he was familiar in some way. Philippe thought harder.

No. It couldn't be. He'd disposed of him ages ago. No human could survive a poisoning of that strength. Then again, the boy had been the epitome of unnatural qualities. Philippe shuddered, thankful his uncle had the sense not to commission a family portrait. He thought of the gentleman at the ball again.

He looked about the right age. His cousin would have been in his twentieth year by now. Whether intentional or not, the gruesome mask he wore certainly evoked memories of the boy's macabre visage. And those eyes! So familiar! Philippe almost wished there was a portrait to compare them to.

A knock at his door drew him from his thoughts.

"It took you long enough," Philippe growled.

The man bowed. "My apologies, Your Grace."

Philippe waved him off. "Save your breath, I've a job for you, Bertram."

"Yes?"

"It's been brought to my attention that an old enemy of mine may not be as dead as we originally thought," he said. "Perhaps you remember him?"

"You'll have to be more specific, sire. Many a man fit that description."

"Oh, you would know him. He's quite hard to forget. Very unique."

Bertram shuddered. "Only the devil's child could have survived that."

"Perhaps. But whether by the supernatural or not, my cousin may still in fact be living. If that is the case, several problems arise, my friend." Philippe rose from his chair. "You see, if dear cousin Louis is indeed alive and my uncle catches word of it, my claim to the throne will be just that. A claim. Although why my uncle bears affection for the monstrous child his late wife bore, I'll never understand. Disgusting."

Bertram remained silent.

"Another problem is that though he was but a tender age, Louis was quite aware of those who poisoned him. I doubt my uncle would take that news well."

The other man shook his head.

"Of course, this is all just speculation." Philippe continued. "It could have been anyone at the ball. But we can't afford to take any chances. Not when it comes to Louis. Keep watch for anything out of the ordinary. And if you do see something, report it to me at once."

"Yes, sire."

"Excellent. And keep an eye on the blonde maid as well, she was with him at the ball. D'Artagnan is her family name." Bertram's eyebrow raised.

Philippe chuckled. "Yes, my friend. Curious indeed. Now, I believe we have work to do."

Chapter Text

Alone in the training room, Corinne sat with her chin on her hands waiting for Louis to return. She had found his note attached to her preferred blade explaining he had something to take care of and would return shortly. Well, she had been waiting for a quarter of an hour and Louis still hadn't come back. Maybe he didn't understand what shortly meant. After all, it was Louis.

Deciding not to simply wait around, Corinne started to explore the passageways. She had to be careful as some were laced with traps to ward off any potential visitors. Briefly she wondered if anyone had been caught in one. Most of the traps were harmless, but a select few were quite lethal. Corinne shuddered. Thankfully Louis had enough sense to tell her which tunnels to avoid. Confident in her abilities, she continued to explore.

One room caught her attention. It wasn't neat and tidy like the others, rather extremely disorderly with books and parchment strewn about the floor. Atop the desk were even more books in stacks of about four or five all with pieces of parchment stuffed between the pages. Corinne picked up the nearest one, a thick leather-bound volume, and began to flip through its pages.

She was utterly fascinated by the book's contents. Louis was not only a master swordsman, but an inventor as well! And a highly skilled one judging by the book she held. The designs were precise. Numbers she didn't understand graced the pages. Corinne felt self-conscious looking at them. He was so intelligent! What did he need her for then? She was merely a country girl who could read and write well enough, but that was the extent of her education. Surely Louis didn't see her as one of the projects from this book. Shaking the thought, Corinne flipped the page. She gasped, nearly dropping the book.

On the page was an exact likeness of herself. She traced the drawing with her finger. It was almost like looking at her reflection. Why had Louis drawn a picture of her, she wondered. She brought the book closer to her face and noticed a few simple lines written under the picture.

Just love. Just live. Just give what you can give, and take what little you deserve.

Corinne read the words over and over again. Just love. Was Louis in love with her? No. He couldn't be. She was his student! And teachers did not fall in love with their students. Perhaps she read the words wrong. Just love. Perhaps she wasn't reading it wrong. Teacher or not, Louis was her friend too, and friends could fall in love with each other. She gasped. His behavior leading up the masquerade ball suddenly made sense. He was cancelling their lessons because he didn't want to teach her. And he didn't want to teach her because he was in love with her. Louis was in love with her.

Was this really happening? A moment ago Louis was nothing but her friend and teacher. Now he was in love with her and she- Her heartbeat quickened. She loved him as well. Corinne felt her cheeks grow hot as she realized it. Over the little time she had known him he had hurt her and screamed at her and practically kidnapped her. But he had also trained her and cared for her. She'd learned so much because of him. Of course she loved him. It would be foolish not to. She had to tell him right away. Corinne rushed back to the training room. Louis still wasn't there. No matter, she would wait for him. She would wait for him forever if she had to.

Chapter Text

Louis moved stealthily through the shadows. He crept towards the palace stables, quickly locating the hidden entrance to his tunnels. He cursed and ducked into one of the empty stalls. A stable boy was tending to one of the nearby horses. There was a reason he hated using this entrance. But it was closest to where he'd meet Corinne and he was eager to get back to her. Taking another look at the stable boy, Louis decided to have a little fun with him. He let out a low chuckle. The boy stiffened.

"W-W-Who's t-t-there?" He asked shakily.

Louis laughed again, louder this time, and rose to his full height. The boy nearly fainted. Before he had time to do anything however, Louis reached into his pocket and threw a smoke bomb of his own design to the ground. It sparked to life and Louis laughed once more before disappearing through the smoke into the passageways. He smiled to himself. The boy would be telling that story for weeks.

Satisfied with his bit of mischief, Louis hung his cloak in his bedchamber and started towards the training room. He was quite shocked to find it empty. Had she seen his note?

"Corinne?" He called out. "Are you here?"

No response. He was about to go check her room when he caught a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.

"Louis!" She shouted, charging at him. Louis reached for his sabre, but quickly noticed she did not carry a blade. What was she doing then, he wondered as she approached him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and he instinctively jumped back, but she held on. She tugged down on his collar until his face was mere inches from hers and pressed her lips against his.

Louis froze. What was happening? He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Was this even real? His head swam. Corinne released him what could have been hours or seconds later.

"W-Why," he demanded breathlessly, "w-why did you j-just do t-that?"

"Just love. Just live. Just give all you can give, and take what little you deserve."

Louis choked. He stumbled backwards. She had seen it. She had seen it. Did that mean she knew? Oh God. Did she? His voice shook as he struggled to get the words out. "Y-You know then?"

"Yes."

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"You love me," she stated. Louis winced. She was never supposed to find out. Would it be too late to have Philippe kill him? Anything would be better than this right now. He bolted for the door, but she caught him by the arm.

"No, Louis this isn't a good thing! It's wonderful!"

He turned to face her. "Wonderful?" He asked obviously confused.

"Yes! You see, I, uh," her cheeks flushed, "well, I love you too."

"You what?" Had he heard her right? Corinne loved him? Impossible.

"I love you, Louis."

Louis shook his head. He couldn't believe it. He didn't believe it. "This can't be real. I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming."

"You're wrong, you know." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"So, I'm not dreaming?"

"Nope."

"And this is real?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Corinne laughed. "Yes. I'm sure. You'll just have to get used to it." She kissed him again.

"I-I think I might be able to do that."

"Good."

Chapter Text

If there was ever a single word that could accurately describe his life, perfect would be the last word Louis would ever think to use. Yet as he approached the misty banks of the Seine, he found perfect to be exactly the right word. Well, his life wouldn't truly be perfect until Philippe was no longer breathing, but this was close enough. For the first time in a long time, everything in his life was working for his benefit. His flying machine was nearly complete. He simply needed a few more yards of fabric for the balloon. The country estate he'd purchased had been restored to his exact specifications and was finally finished. He was immensely pleased with the work that had been done on the manor. And of course, there was Corinne.

What had started out as training an unexpected candidate for the musketeers and a formidable new threat for Philippe had turned into so much more as he grew to know her. She was fierce and unafraid to challenge him whenever it struck her to do so. He never imagined she would come to be his friend. He never dreamed she would come to love him. Even after she's been witness to his temper and seen his face, she still loved him. Louis still had difficulty wrapping his head around all of this. His entire life people said he'd been cursed with a face not even a mother could love. It had taken twenty years of hardships, but he now knew those people were wrong. Corinne had showed him that and he would spend the rest of his life finding new ways to thank her. She was perfect.

"Louis, you are late." Hélène scolded.

"Yes, I apologize. Time slipped away from me and Mademoiselle D'Artagnan's lessons went much longer than expected." He said coolly, confident that the high collar of his cloak proved that he was indeed lying. Well, perhaps only partially lying. He and Mademoiselle D'Artagnan did have a lesson. She simply knew exactly how to get out actually fencing. Little vixen.

Hélène eyed him suspiciously.

"Honestly Hélène, you don't think I would be late on purpose?"

"I think you are in a fairly good mood for having come from a fencing lesson with Corinne."

Louis laughed it off, but damn she was smart. "Yes. I can see why you'd be suspicious. You should see her with a blade, Hélène. Her progress is enough to make any teacher smile."

"That's all?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I am just not used to seeing you smile," Hélène answered. "It's quite nice."

"Indeed it is."

...

Corinne awoke that morning to something tickling her nose. She opened her eyes and gasped. A single red rose lay on the pillow next to her. She sat up in bed, carefully brushing the petals with her finger. It was beautiful. A gift from Louis. She smiled. Would this become a common occurrence, to find a rose every morning upon her waking? Certainly she wouldn't protest if that were the case.

"Corinne," Renée looked over at her in surprise. "You're up early this mor- Is that a rose?"

"What? A rose?" Aramina bolted upright in bed, tearing the blanket from atop her head. Her eyes found the rose in Corinne's hand and she squealed causing everyone to jump. "Oh Corinne, whoever he is must really like you if he leaves you roses!"

Viveca groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. Corinne laughed. She was more than content to indulge Aramina's excited squeals and girlish fantasies, Viveca and Renée were not. Today was perfect.

"Am I the only one concerned that a man was able to break into our room during the night?" Renée asked.

Aramina nodded in response and Corinne laughed again. All day, her spirits were high. She smiled and hummed to herself as she worked around the palace, earning her a scolding from Madame de Bossé. Madame Hélène as well gave her several suspicious glances throughout the day. But she paid them no heed. She was too happy and too in love to care. While Louis may not have been an ideal man by society's standards, Corinne wouldn't dare change a single thing about him. Although, his temper could use a little work. She loved him, scars and all. And she couldn't wait for their lesson that night.

Chapter Text

Corinne melted into the mattress in the aftermath of her ecstasy. She sighed contentedly as Louis continued to kiss his way along her shoulder and neck before collapsing to the bed beside her. His arms found their way around her waist, pulling her to him. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Mine, mine, mine, it seemed to say. If given the choice she would lay in his arms forever.

Louis apparently had other ideas. He disentangled himself from her and rose from the bed.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"I believe you have a lesson to attend." He pulled his trousers on.

"What?"

Louis chuckled. "Did you really think you could get out of your lesson that easily, ma chère? It was a valiant effort, but I'll not postpone your training a third night."

She stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Quite. How else will you become a musketeer if you do not train?"

"You are the worst teacher ever, Louis."

"Ah, but I'm your teacher, ma chère."

"But wouldn't you rather stay in bed with me?"

"Don't tempt me. We will have a lesson."

Corinne groaned and rolled out of bed. "Fine. You win." She began to retrieve her lost clothing.

"That's the spirit!" He said. "We'll make a musketeer out of you yet!"

She glared at him. Louis took several steps back.

"Too much." He shook his head. "Forgive me, ma chère. I am… new at this. You are the best thing that has happened to me. You're very talented with a blade and I simply wish for you to excel as a swordsman. Please forgive me, Corinne."

How could she not when faced with those eyes? There was so much sadness in his brown eyes, it broke her heart. She vowed to hunt down every man responsible and cut his throat. "Of course I forgive you, Louis." She kissed his scarred cheek. His eyes lit up.

"So, you are not angry with your Louis?"

She smiled. "No."

"Well, if you would prefer to lounge, one more night will not be too terrible."

"No, we're already up. We'll have that lesson."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Besides," she grinned mischievously, "I'm going to kick your ass this time."

He raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"I know so."

"Well then," he produced a blade from thin air. "En garde, ma chère."

Chapter Text

Hélène Moreau did not often walk the corridors underneath the palace. She was not a messenger, nor did she approve of the depressing state in which the young man dwelling in the corridors chose to live. Time and again she had tried to convince him to come above, whether back to her home of his own manor, but to no avail. Louis was stubborn. He always had been. And she could always tell when he was lying. After all, she had raised him.

He was lying to her now. She could hear it in the slightest quiver of his voice whenever he mentioned her.

Corinne had been working at the palace for nearly a year and almost immediately Louis had taken her under his wing. She did not protest his actions, but Hélène doubted the intentions he had for Mademoiselle D'Artagnan were simply those of training her to be a musketeer. Yet Hélène said nothing. In their weekly rendezvous by the river, Louis would often complain about his lessons with Corinne. She was just as stubborn as he and that frustrated him to no end. Yet a few days ago, the complaining stopped. Louis attributed it to the girl's extreme progress, but Hélène knew better. While she did not doubt in Corinne's progress, something about the way Louis spoke of her had changed. She noticed it in Corinne too. Both were acting different. They were hiding something and Hélène was going to get to the bottom of it. She paused outside his study, listening for movement, before entering.

As usual the place was an absolute mess. Hélène shook her head as she picked several books up off the floor. She was going to place them on the desk when something caught her eye. Curious, she set the books back down and went to examine it.

Hélène gasped. It couldn't be. She took the little box into her hand, tracing a finger along the smooth velvet exterior. Inside was an elegant diamond ring.

Everything suddenly made sense. Louis' improvement in attitude. Corinne's daydreaming while working. Louis being late to their meeting because of Corinne's training. That rascal. No wonder he was lying to her. He was in love. And from the looks of it, so was Corinne. They were in love and that ring proved it.

A ring! That meant he was going to propose! Hélène laughed as she tried to imagine Louis married. It broke her heart as well. She had raised him from the time he was five years old, nursing him back to health from that nasty poison before he ran away at fourteen, and now here he was. A man of twenty years who had endured so much pain, yet was able to love and be loved. Tears gathered in her eyes.

"Hélène?" She turned to find Louis looking rather surprised. "What are you doing here?"

She hid the ring box behind her back. "You haven't been honest with me, Louis."

"What? Of course I have, Hélène." He said. "I would never lie to you."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps you would care to explain this?" She pulled the ring box from behind her back. Louis' eyes widened. His jaw dropped.

"H- Hélène, I-I can explain-"

"Save it, Louis. You can't lie to me. I know everything that goes on in this castle."

"H- Hélène-"

"Don't." She held a finger in the air. "You lied to me. Although, I must admit, I am happy for you, Louis."

"You- What?"

"Well, I'm not happy you lied." Louis flinched. "But I'm glad you've found someone. Corinne is good for you."

He chuckled. "You have no idea."

Hélène pulled him into an embrace. He didn't fit the same way he had as a child, but that didn't matter. Grown man or not, Louis would always be that scared little boy lying feverous in her spare bedroom recovering from the pain caused by those closest to him. Her heart swelled with love for her adopted son.

"Hélène," Louis said pulling away from her. "Now that you know about Corinne and I, I would like you to help me with something special."

Hélène grinned as he continued to explain his plans. Yes, she thought. Corinne was good for him indeed.

Chapter Text

Mandritti. Step back. Parry. Riposte. Corinne breathed hard. She'd been at this for hours. Affondo. Reprise. Sweat dripped from her brow, her muscles ached. Louis however, showed no signs of tiring. Bastard, she thought. He could fight for hours without stopping. Not that she was complaining too much. She loved it when he channeled his stamina into other pursuits. Volte'. Thrust. Every move he made was done with such grace. It reminded her of Aramina. Sometimes she wondered if he was a dancer too. Stocatta. Pass. Was that really an opening? She lunged forward. Louis' blade clattered to the ground. He stared at it, mouth agape.

"I did it!" Corinne cheered. "I really did it!"

"Indeed," Louis chuckled. "Congratulations, ma chère."

"We should celebrate," her arms wrapped around his neck.

He kissed her quickly. "We should." He pulled away from her. "Come with me." He dashed down the corridor. Corinne smiled and took off after him. Funny, she never remembered going this way. And this corridor was much longer than the others.

"Up here." Louis' hand hung down from an opening in the ceiling. She took it and he pulled through to the top, setting her on her feet just in front of him.

Corinne gasped. Paris gleamed at them from in the distance. They were in the forest outside the city!

"How did we-"

"Not yet." Louis said, taking her hand. "Come on!" He pulled her through the trees. Corinne wondered what could possibly have him this excited. Whatever it was she was excited too. He covered her eyes for the last few steps.

"All right. Here we are." He uncovered her eyes. Corinne looked at the object before her in both wonder and confusion.

"What is it?" She asked.

"My life's dream." He said smiling. "With this, man will be able to fly." Corinne stared at it. He laughed. "Here, let me explain. The hot air from the fire inflates the balloon. The more hot air, the higher the balloon goes. We climb into the basket," he ascended partially up the rope ladder, "and up we go."

"Amazing," Corinne breathed. "Wait. We?"

He extended a hand to her. "Fly with me, Corinne."

She took his hand and let him guide her into the balloon's basket. He cut the ropes that held them to the earth. Soon they were soaring high above the treetops, gliding just outside Paris.

"It's beautiful up here." Corinne sighed. The stars shone proudly. Maybe, if she stood on her toes, she could just barely touch one…

"Beautiful." Louis agreed looking straight at her. Corinne felt her cheeks grow hot. He took her hand in his. "Corinne, I- Before you, my life meant nothing. I mean, I had my work, my designs, but something was missing. I didn't know what it was until tonight. Love."

"Louis, I-"

"Please. Let me finish. All my life people said I'd been cursed. A face not even a mother could love. But you- you see past this," he removed the mask, letting it fall to the bottom of the basket. She stroked his scarred cheek. "I love you, Corinne. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Louis."

He smiled and kissed her hand then dropped to his knees, probably to find the mask. He didn't look for very long before staring up at her. His eyes shone like the stars.

"Corinne," he said her name slowly. "Would you-" He stopped abruptly.

"Yes?"

He rose to his feet. "No, no, no, no. This shouldn't be happening. Why is this happening?"

"Louis, what's going on?" Corinne asked.

"There's a hole in the balloon," he replied. "But that's impossible! I've tested this fabric! It wouldn't just rip like that without cause!"

"W-What does that mean?"

"It means that we're coming down," he said matter-of-factly. "And fast."

The basket hit the ground with a hard bump. The wind dragged the fabric balloon forward several feet, tossing both Corinne and Louis from the basket, before tangling in the lower branches of a tree.

"Are you all right?" Louis called out.

"I think so," she answered. "I just need to get out from under all this fabric."

"All right. I'm right behind you."

She started to crawl out from under the balloon, Louis following at her heels. She hoped he wasn't too devastated with what happened to his flying machine. It really had been a wonderful night. The cool air hit her face and she looked back at Louis as he too emerged from the wreckage. She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it. A very familiar sound reached her ears. The sound of a sword being pulled from its sheath.

"Well hello, cousin."

Chapter Text

Corinne stared up at Count Philippe wide-eyed. At least three other men stood on either side of him. With the wrecked balloon behind them and the Count in front of them, they were surrounded. Count Philippe smirked viscously.

"I can't say that I'm surprised to find you with him, my dear," he drawled.

"Leave her out of this, Philippe!" Louis hissed.

"Gladly. For now."

Louis glared at him.

"You just couldn't stay dead, could you, Louis?" He taunted.

Louis rose to his feet. "And you simply couldn't die, could you, Philippe?" He drew his sword.

"I wonder, do monsters bleed?"

"You'll never find out."

"We'll see." Count Philippe lunged forward, his blade centered on Louis' chest. Louis ducked and the two began to fight.

Corinne looked between them feeling a little scared and very confused. Louis and Count Philippe knew each other? She knew that Louis hated the other man, but she didn't know why. This made no sense.

"Louis, what's going on?" She asked him. "What's happening? Why is he here?"

He shoved Count Philippe back. "Not now, Corinne!"

"You haven't told her," Count Philippe threw his head back and laughed. "You haven't told her!"

"You worthless piece of-"

"Tell her, cousin. Tell her who you really are."

Louis growled and swung his blade across Count Philippe's stomach. He jumped back, it had barely missed.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He turned to Corinne.

"NO!" Louis tried to fight, but the Count pushed him back.

"Louis Rousseau," Count Philippe swung his blade at Louis. "Crown prince of France, heir to the throne, died fifteen years ago. Or at least, he was supposed to. You see my dear, he has a nasty habit of never doing as he's told."

Louis yelled, renewing his attack with greater force.

"And a nasty temper as well. Even as a child he was like this."

Corinne's head spun with this new information. Louis and Count Philippe were related. Not only that, but he was also the dead prince. Her Louis? She couldn't believe it. There were no portraits of the prince anywhere in the palace and Aramina had said the phantom living in the cellars had killed him… Count Philippe said he was supposed to be dead as well, and Louis hated Count Philippe. Still none of this made sense. She turned back to their fight.

Louis' eyes were hard and angry. He threw himself recklessly at the Count in such a way that he would have scolded her for weeks if she'd done it. She rose to try and help, but the Count's men blocked her path. Corinne watched helplessly as he stumbled and fell. Count Philippe stood over him.

"You should have died years ago," he spat. "Such a waste of a good poison. Expensive too. Oh well. Goodbye, cousin." He raised his sword to deliver the final blow.

That blow did not come, however. Instead Count Philippe collapsed to the ground. Behind him stood Aramina with a rather menacing looking tree branch in her hands. The Count's men took one look at their employer, then at the red-haired girl. Without Count Philippe's confidence, they dropped their swords and ran. Aramina smiled triumphantly.

"Aramina?" Corinne asked. Absolutely nothing made sense anymore. "How did you-"

"There's no time! He could wake up at any second!" She was referring to the felled Count. Gracefully, she stepped over him and helped a Louis to his feet. "We have to go to Mama's, Louis. The castle isn't safe for either of you anymore."

He nodded and held out a hand to Corinne. She refused to take it.

"Please Corinne," he pleaded. "I'll explain everything later, I promise. Please don't do this." His brown eyes were filled with pain.

Corinne sighed. "All right." She grabbed his hand. They started following Aramina through the trees. "But you had better explain."

"I swear I will."

Suddenly, Louis stopped walking. He stumbled and fell back. Aramina and Corinne caught him before he could hit the ground, noting with horror the fresh blood staining his shirt.

Chapter Text

Corinne watched worriedly as Madame Hélène tended to Louis. Any anger she may have felt towards him had melted when he'd collapsed after fighting with Count Philippe. She was glad for Aramina's help. She wouldn't have been able to get him very far by herself.

Aramina wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Corinne hadn't realized she'd been shaking. "He'll be fine. He's strong and Mama knows what she's doing."

Corinne looked at her. "I still don't understand. How did you find us?"

"A giant floating thing just outside the city? Not one of Louis' best ideas."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

"All right, but you talk like you know him." Corinne said. "It still doesn't make sense."

"It's a long story. Come with me." She gestured for Corinne to follow. Corinne looked back at Madame Hélène and Louis. "He'll be all right, Corinne. I promise." Aramina tugged her from the doorway and led her to the sitting room.

"Have a seat, Corinne. I don't know how much you already know, so I'll just start from the beginning." Corinne nodded. Aramina continued. "It started twenty years ago. Mama had just started working at the palace when it was announced that the queen would have a baby. Count Philippe was thirteen at the time and had been the sole heir for the throne. At least until the queen's baby was born.

"Mama said the entire castle was silent. Except for the queen's screaming. Her labor lasted well into the next day and the doctors said she wouldn't survive it. And they were right. The queen died and a prince was born."

"Louis." Corinne whispered.

"Yes. Mama said she heard one of the doctors say it was better she died. That way she wouldn't ever have to see the monstrous face of her son."

"But where do you come in?"

"All right, so five years passed. The king didn't care what his son looked like. He loved Louis and intended to make him the next king of France. Count Philippe was pushed to next in line, in case anything happened to the prince. So, he made sure something happened."

Corinne gasped. "So that's why…"

Aramina nodded. "Count Philippe poisoned him and threw him out on the streets to die. Mama found him and brought him here. She said he almost didn't make it. But he did. I was just a baby then. And he couldn't go back to the castle, so he stayed with us.

"Mama said it took him a long time to get used to us. And when he did, I had the best brother ever. We played together all the time. For one game he would play the flute mama bought and try to hypnotize me. I always pretended it worked because it was fun. Looking back, that probably wasn't my best idea."

"But-"

"Stop interrupting, Corinne! Do you want me to tell the story or not?"

"I'm sorry. Please continue."

"Thank you." Aramina smiled. "Anyways, Louis always wore a mask when we played. 'People do bad things to me when they see my face,' he said. Me and mama didn't care though. I grew up with it, so it's normal to me. And we were happy for a while. Then one day, he just left. He was fourteen and we didn't see him again until four years later. Wherever he went, he came back angry at everything. He found the passageways and started living there. Mama would bring him supplies every week and well, you know the rest."

"Wow," Corinne breathed, not quite believing it. "That's… a lot to take in."

"I told you it was a long story."

"There's just one thing I still don't understand. Why did you keep insisting that Count Philippe and I were lovers?" Corinne asked disgusted. "After what you just told me? Why?"

Aramina blushed. "If Viveca or Renée ever woke up and you weren't there, it would be because you snuck out with your lover and not with a masked man in the bowels of the castle."

"But why Count Philippe?"

"He was the first one to come to my mind, all right? Besides, he made it very obvious from the beginning that he wanted to bed you."

Corinne shuddered. That was an image she didn't need.

"And the more people that people thought about the Count, the less they thought about Louis. I did what I could to keep his secret safe."

Corinne still didn't like it. She understood, but she didn't like it.

"I was hoping you'd get together, you know." Aramina said. "Louis needed someone to love him differently from the way mama and I love him. And you do. You two deserve each other."

Corinne was about to say something when Madame Hélène entered the room. She rushed to the older woman.

"How is he?"

"He'll be fine. He's very strong." Madame Hélène smiled. "But he needs to rest and so do you. You're more than welcome to stay here for the night."

"Thank you, Madame."

"Come then. I'll show you where you can sleep It's been a long night."

Chapter Text

The next morning couldn't come quickly enough for Corinne. It took every ounce of self-control she could muster not to leap out of bed and rush to check on Louis. She jumped at Madame Hélène's offer to bring him breakfast. They all laughed at her over eagerness and gave her a tray of food, enough for her and Louis to eat together. She knocked lightly on his door before entering.

"Corinne!" His eyes lit up. "You're still here."

"Of course I am." She smiled sweetly. "You scared me when you just collapsed like that. I had to make sure you were all right."

"Well, I am." He grumbled.

"You don't sound like it."

He snorted. She set the tray on the bedside table and kissed him lightly.

"What's wrong, Louis."

"Philippe," he spat the other man's name. "How is it that my wretched cousin managed to escape our encounter unscathed while I'm stuck in bed, waylaid by one if his knives."

"Knives?" Corinne asked confused. "You and the Count fought with swords. I don't remember seeing any knives."

"That's the point. My cousin is a sneaky bastard."

"Oh."

"Indeed, ma chère." He too her hand. "Which reminds me, I owe you an explanation-"

"Actually, Aramina told me everything last night."

"Oh."

"Please don't be angry with her," Corinne pleaded. "She was just trying to help. And she cares about you."

"I'm beginning to realize that."

"Good." She tucked herself into his side. "Now, let's forget about all this for a little while and just enjoy breakfast."

Louis sighed. "All right. But there's one more thing I need you to do."

"What?"

"There's something in the pocket of my cloak that I need you to bring me."

Corinne slid off the bed and over to the chair his cloak was draped across. She searched for several minutes before producing a small, velvet box. She held it up for Louis to see.

"Perfect!" He exclaimed. "I thought it might have gotten lost in the confusion last night."

"What it is?" Corinne asked.

"Open it."

She did. A gasp escaped her lips. Inside was a ring. A lone diamond in the shape of the heart stood out from its center surrounded by smaller pink stones she didn't know the name for.

Louis' voice was distant in her ears. "I had a more elegant proposal planned, but-"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes!"

Corinne ran back to the bed and assaulted his entire face with kisses. He chuckled, slipping the ring onto her third finger. Its weight felt right. This was her ring. Her Louis. Her fiancé. She was getting married. A fresh round of more focused kisses followed. It was just starting to get good when a knock came from the door.

Louis groaned and pulled away from her lips. "What is it now?"

Madame Hélène peeked inside the room. "I thought you might like some tea with your breakfast."

"Do I have a choice?"

Corinne giggled. He was insufferable. Madame Hélène entered with a tray of tea, Aramina close at her mother's heels. Her green eyes immediately found the ring.

"I knew it!" She squealed. "I told you, didn't I, Mama?" The older woman nodded. "Oh, I'm so happy for you! We should celebrate!"

Corinne snuggled once more into Louis' side. Aramina and Madame Hélène joined their company. She rested her head against his chest, his heartbeat playing in her ear. Even now it still beat with the words: mine, mine, mine. In that moment nothing else mattered but Louis' arm around her shoulders and the steady beat of his heart.

Chapter Text

Count Philippe paced the length of his quarters. He paused, took a breath, and turned to Monsieur Treville.

"Your musketeers are prepared?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Monsieur Treville answered. "I can assure you that no one will get past my men."

"Excellent. It would be unfortunate is the castle wasn't properly protected. Not like the last time." Of course, he was referring to Louis's "death." He and Bertram had hired some men to make it appear as if the castle had been under siege when it happened.

"Of course, Your Grace." Monsieur Treville turned to leave, intent on checking on his men.

"One more thing. Those maids you arrested, bring them here," Philippe said. "I'd like to question them about their involvement in this plot."

Treville bowed. "Yes, Your Grace." He exited the room.

"And your men are ready?"

Bertram stepped out from the shadows. "Yes, sire. All the passageways we could find are blocked. We also found where it's been hiding this whole time."

"Perfect. My cousin won't stay away for long. And when he returns, we'll be more than ready to finish him once and for all!" His preparatory celebration was cut short by a knock on the door. "Enter."

Two musketeers stepped inside, dragging along the maids. Their hands were bound behind their backs and they glared at the musketeers holding them.

"Fils de pute!" the brunette shouted, struggling against her bonds. "Comment osez -vous nous malmener de cette façon!"

"Calm down, Viveca!" the other hissed. "You'll get us in even more trouble!" She turned to Philippe. "Your Grace, could you please explain to us what is going on?"

"You girls are under arrest," he informed them; they gasped, "for aiding in a plot against the crown."

"But we did no such thing!"

"Ah, but you're wrong, my dear. However, if you tell me where they're hiding, I might not throw you in the dungeon."

"Where who's hiding?"

"Your good for nothing co-conspirators!"

"You mean Corinne and Aramina?" the raven haired maid asked confused. "We haven't seen them all day, Your Grace."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Very well then," Philippe stepped towards the girls. "Throw them in the dungeon."

"What?" the brunette gasped. "But we said we didn't know!"

"And I don't believe you." Philippe said simply. He turned to the musketeers. "The dungeon."

"Yes, sire."

The black haired maid looked shocked. Her companion kicked and cursed and screamed. Philippe rubbed his temples. He was grateful when the musketeers led them out. This was becoming a much bigger headache than he'd anticipated. Perhaps he would retire early that night…

Suddenly, the door flew open.

Or perhaps not.

"Philippe! What is the meaning of all this?" the king demanded.

Philippe placed an arm around the elder man's shoulders. "Uncle, you must understand. This is necessary. We can't afford to take this threat lightly. Not after what happened to dear Louis."

The king's brown eyes saddened. "Yes. I suppose so." He sighed. "All right, Philippe. Do whatever you have to do to protect us and our home. I can't lose anyone else."

"Of course, uncle. You can count me."

Chapter Text

Night fell over Paris. Corinne sat with Madame Hélène in her sitting room sipping tea. Louis was still on bed rest on fear of tearing his stitches and Aramina had left for the market several hours ago, so the house was quiet. The fireplace roared to life under the Madame's careful hands. She returned to her tea, smiling at Corinne.

"What?" the younger girl asked.

"Nothing," Madame Hélène said. "I am simply happy."

"At least someone is."

Madame Hélène chuckled. "He's still in a foul mood then?"

"Oh, yes." Corinne laughed as well. "He said that he'd rather spend quality time with Philippe than waste another second in that bed."

"So dramatic. I don't know where he and my daughter get it."

Corinne snorted into her tea. She had a fairly decent idea, but she didn't dare say so.

A crash came from the back of the house. Madame Hélène set her teacup down.

"I swear, it he's out of that bed-"

She didn't get to finish her threat. The window shattered and the door flew open. Four musketeers forced their way inside. Louis stumbled into the sitting room, two more musketeers at his heels.

"You're under arrest," one said, "for plotting against the crown. It would be in your best interests to come quietly."

Madame Hélène reached for her teacup and calmly took a sip. Seconds later, it flew through the air, hitting the head of the musketeer who had spoken. He clutched his bleeding forehead.

"Get them!"

Corinne watched fascinated as Madame Hélène sprung backwards. She reached for the sabre above the fireplace and tossed it to Corinne. The blonde smiled. She could take them down in her sleep. Madame Hélène pulled out another blade and joined her in battle. Louis rose to help, but Madame Hélène glared so fiercely at him that he shrunk back down, arms folded across his chest and grumbling.

"Simply knock them out, dear," she said to Corinne between blows. "Blood is hard to remove from most fabrics and furniture."

Corinne nodded obediently, still shocked by the older woman's skill with a blade. She moved like a rabbit and struck like a cobra. Corinne vowed then to never get on the Madame's bad side.

The fight ended almost as soon as it had begun. The musketeers were no match for the women and were soon bound and gagged on the sitting room carpet.

Madame Hélène laughed at Corinne's bemused look. "Try not to be too surprised, my dear. Who do you think trained him?" She gestured towards Louis.

"It's true." He confirmed.

"All right." Even after everything that had happened, she was still shocked. Although, she knew she shouldn't be. She held up her hands in defeat. A lifetime of surprises was in store for her. She took another look at the musketeers. "They must have been sent by the Count."

Louis snorted. "Of course he did. Who else would have sent them?"

"You're right, I just-" the words died on her lips.

"What's wrong, Corinne?" Madame Hélène asked her.

"How long ago did Aramina leave for the market?"

"Mon dieu. Ma petit fille." Madame Hélène shook her head. "No, no. Aramina knows how to defend herself. I am sure she's all right."

The next couple of minutes dragged on in silent agony. All breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of red hair outside the broken window. She rushed through the door.

"We have to leave," she told them. "We have to leave now. There are posters all over the city with our faces on them. We're wanted for crimes against the crown."

"We know, Aramina." Corinne said, gesturing towards the felled musketeers.

"All right. But did you know that Viveca and Renée have also been arrested and are in the dungeon?"

"What? Why?"

"For hiding us."

"But they have no part in any of this!"

"I know!" Aramina cried desperately. "And there's more musketeers on their way here. So we have to go! Or else we'll be thrown in the dungeon too!"

"Where can we go if the whole city's looking for us?" Corinne asked.

"The manor," Louis spoke up. "I didn't have the chance to tell you, Corinne. I own a manor in the country outside the city. It's secluded in a nice grove of trees. Not too far from where the balloon was launched. No one would find us there."

Corinne tried to remind herself not to be too surprised by this news. After all, it would only become tiring. "So, we'll go there." She and Aramina helped Louis to his feet while Madame Hélène packed what would be necessary for their journey.

Under the shadow of a moonless sky, they fled the city of Paris.

Chapter Text

The journey out of Paris had been long and difficult. Leaving in the dead of night made acquiring a carriage impossible and even if they had, they were wanted throughout the city as criminals. The driver would have taken them straight to the castle. Frequent stops were necessary to make sure Louis hadn't torn his stitches, even while leaning on Aramina and Corinne for support.

Once outside the city, they had been able to rest for a bit longer that before. After several hours, the sight of the manor against the tree line had everyone sighing with relief. What little was left of the night became devoted to uneasy sleep.

At the first light of dawn, the four of them had gathered in the kitchen. Hélène put together a simple breakfast of bread and cheese, along with some apples from a few of the trees. Louis watched as Corinne thanked her quietly and tucked herself into his side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, grateful she was no longer angry with him.

"Philippe has to be stopped." He said with more force than necessary.

"Yes," Hélène replied. "I agree." Louis smiles triumphantly. "However."

He groaned. Hélène continued. "We need a plan. You can't just storm into the castle and hope for the best."

"And we can't just leave Viveca and Renée in the dungeon!" Her daughter spoke up.

Well, they could, Louis thought, for a little while at least. But Hélène would never stand for it.

"We could use the passageways," Corinne suggested.

"Oui, ma chère. Although, my cousin knows about them."

"What? How?"

"He was trying to kill me then too."

She looked at him with such sympathy and compassion it made his heart ache. His sweet little love. How could he have gotten her caught up in this mess? She deserved so much better than this! Better than him!

"Corinne," he began slowly, "you don't have to be part of any of this. You can still go-"

"Go?" She threw his arm from her shoulders. "Oh, no. You don't get to ask me to step aside when things get rough. You don't get to send me away. We're in this together, or not at all."

"Corinne, I-"

"You want to protect me. But who will protect you?" Her voice quieted. "I can't lose you, Louis."

Louis was taken aback by her words. He would die if anything happened to her. But he never thought that she would fear losing him. So fierce, yet so fragile his sweet love was. He took her hand in his. "All right." He knew there was no use arguing with her. "I'll protect you, and you'll protect me. We'll stop Philippe together."

She smiled. "Together."

Aramina sighed. "Oh, that is so romantic. Returning from exile to save the day and rescue our friends."

"But how do we get to them?" Corinne asked. "There's probably dozens of new guards."

"We use the passageways." Louis said simply.

"The passageways? I thought you said-"

"Yes, ma chère. Philippe knows about some of the passageways, but not all of them. There are hundreds of tunnels under the palace. I even constructed a few of them myself." He grinned proudly.

"That's perfect! Count Philippe won't know what hit him!" Aramina cheered. Her mother however, remained silent.

"Hélène," Louis turned to the woman who had raised him. "You've been quiet. Is something wrong?"

"I simply hope you fully understand the implications of this plan."

"I see." He let out a deep breath. "This has to be done, Hélène. I assure you that I am completely aware of my actions."

Hélène nodded. "All right. Aramina and I will free Viveca and Renée from the dungeon. You and Corinne will handle the Count. We leave in two nights." Louis opened his mouth to protest as to why they couldn't leave tonight, but she shushed him. "You've pushed that wound enough for one night. Get some rest. Heal. Worry about the Count later."

"Hélène, I'm f-"

"Now."

Louis took a step back. Were all the women in his life so fierce? Just two more nights. He waited for ten years. He could wait two more nights.

Chapter Text

Two days passed in a blur. Corinne practiced her sword techniques alongside Aramina and her mother under the shadows of the apple trees. Louis would sometimes watch them from the windows in his chamber, still seething silently over the days of forced bed rest. Whenever he had complained, which was quite often, Madame Hélène would kindly remind him why they were waiting before gently applying pressure to his wounded side and changing the bandages all while claiming how well it was healing. Corinne shouldn't have laughed at his eagerness to be up and moving, but she did.

Just as they had left the city at night, they returned to her cloaked in darkness. Louis led them to the tunnel he'd brought Corinne through on the night of that disastrous balloon ride. They moved quickly and quietly through the passage, hoping to avoid as many guards as they could. Louis assured there would be none, at least until they passed his former home, or lair as Aramina called it. He was quite surprised by the four men that greeted them at the tunnel's end.

The battle ended as quickly as it had begun. Philippe's men were no match for Corinne and her friends. She watched as Louis pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wipe the blood from his sabre.

"We should split up now," he said. "Hélène, you recall how to reach the dungeon from here?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. We'll meet back at the manor when it's done. Good luck, ladies."

"And to you two as well."

They parted ways and Corinne secretly hoped that she'd see her friends as she walked down the aisle.

...

Aramina danced through the passageways alongside her mother. With desperate gaiety she was eager to reach the dungeon and her friends, eager to be tucked away in the dense forest, eager for all of this to be over.

It wasn't fair. Life had been great and was only getting better. Why did the Count have to ruin it all by taking an interest in Corinne? Then he wouldn't have found out Louis was actually alive and they wouldn't have to rescue Viveca and Renée from the dungeon. It was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn't been such a horrible person, they wouldn't be doing this. Although, it was exciting and she's be lying if she if she said she wasn't having a little fun. She hadn't fought a man in ages.

The route to the dungeon was almost completely unguarded. Only two men stood outside the cell her friends were in. Aramina wondered if Louis and Corinne had been discovered yet. It certainly would explain the lack of guards. Or perhaps the Count wasn't too concerned with his prisoners escaping. Either way, rescuing Viveca and Renée would be easy.

On her mother's signal, Aramina leapt from the passage and felled the first guard. The other followed quickly. Her mama snatched the key to the cell from his belt.

"Girls, come quickly," she said. "There's not much time."

Both girls stared at them confused, mouths agape.

"Madame Hélène? Aramina? It that- What's happening?"

"Mama will explain everything later," Aramina insisted. "But we must leave at once!" She tugged on Renée's arm.

"O-Okay…" She let Aramina pull her into the tunnel. Viveca was close behind. Her mother led them silently through the passage. They turned a corner, three more guards appeared from nowhere.

Her mother smiled. "Ready, ma petit?"

"Oui, mama." She lunged forward.

...

Corinne walked through the passageway, her sword in hand, ready to attack anyone who stood in her way. She peeked a glance at Louis as he strode confidently beside her. She envied how calm he seemed to be. Her mind raced with potential outcomes of this night and some of them weren't very pretty. She shifted uncomfortably. Where were all the guards?

Louis stopped walking and turned to her. He was wearing his mask again. She'd become accustomed to seeing him without it and something about seeing it now caused an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

"Corinne, ma chère," he took her hand. "You look positively ill. Tell me what's wrong."

She laughed nervously. "I'm frightened, Louis. We haven't seen a single guard since your old home. What if- What if they know we're here? What if we get to the end of the tunnel and there's a dozen men waiting for us? What if-"

"Corinne," he spoke gently. "Everything will be all right. Especially after tonight."

"And if we don't make it through tonight?"

"Impossible. I know what I'm doing. As does Hélène." He grinned. "And I trained you, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Then we have nothing to worry about. Even if a dozen guards are at the end of this tunnel."

She believed him. Maybe it was his confidence, or maybe it was because she loved him, but either way she believed him. "All right. Let's do this." She stole a quick kiss and they continued through the tunnels. Still no guards found them. Louis turned the corner to at what looked to be a dead end.

"Once we push this panel, we'll be outside Philippe's chambers." He said.

"Convenient."

"Indeed, ma chère. Are you ready?"

Corinne nodded. "Ready."

Louis pushed back the panel and the wall itself moved aside. At least ten men, all armed, stood before them.

"You were right." He whispered.

"I can see that."

"In that case, let's kick some ass."

"With pleasure."

Chapter Text

Fighting was second nature to Louis. From the time he was born and every moment after, he'd fought for his miserable existence. At the time, he didn't know why. Why allow the pain and suffering to continue? Maybe he'd been too much of a coward then, to take his own life. He glanced briefly at Corinne fighting alongside him. Or maybe, just maybe something inside of him knew that he was fighting for this moment. She swung her sword with deadly precision at those who wished them harm.

She panted, sweat heavy on her brow. "There's too many of them!"

"Just keep fighting, we're almost through!"

She nodded as they slashed and fought their way through the guards, inching slowly towards his cousin's door.

"Cover me!" Louis shouted, turning his back to the guards. Corinne leapt behind him. He fumbled with the lock for a moment before stepping back and kicking the door open. "Now, Corinne!" She threw the smoke bomb he'd given her at the guards. As they coughed, he and Corinne dashed through the open door, Louis locking and barricading it behind them.

"It's time, dear cousin," Philippe's voice reached his ear. Louis spun around to face him, "to finish what we started long ago."

He was waiting for them. Philippe and his friend with the eye patch, Bertram, were waiting for this. For them.

"Yes, cousin." Louis snarled. "Let's finish this." He lunged forward, swiping his blade at his cousin. Philippe jumped back.

"You'll have to be quicker than that, cousin."

Louis grunted and renewed his attack. He looked over to see Corinne engaged in battle with Bertram.

"Too much of a coward to face me one on one, eh?"

"The same could be said for you and your companion."

Philippe snorted. With the flick of his wrist, several knives flew through the air. Louis dodged them with ease. "That won't work this time, cousin."

"Freak!" Philippe hissed, striking wildly. Louis fought to keep up. "You should never have been born!"

Louis chuckled. "Freak? Is that the best you can do? I've been called worse by lesser men than yourself. Surely someone with your education could do better."

Philippe yelled, his attacks becoming more reckless. The angrier he became, the less focused he was, made his attacks sloppy. As long as he kept this up, it would be an easy victory.

A yelp from Corinne drew his attention. He looked over in time to see her holding her arm. Red trickled through her fingers. Blood, he realized with horror.

"Louis, watch out!"

Too late. Philippe's fist connected with his jaw. Louis stumbled back. Philippe kicked him in the stomach and he fell.

"NO!" Corinne screamed. She rushed to help, but Bertram grabbed her and pulled her back. He held a knife to her throat. Louis struggled to get to his feet.

Philippe stepped a foot down in his chest. "I think not, cousin." He dragged the tip of his blade along the unmasked side of Louis' face. Blood ran down his cheek. "Such a pity I haven't a mirror, for yours is truly a ghastly sight. I should kill you. However, I think I've found a more fitting punishment.

"There's a special cell in deep in the dungeon. Where the not even the light dares to touch upon. This is where you'll spend the rest of your days. And as for you," his eyes wandered to Corinne. "You, my dear, will become my queen." Her eyes widened. She struggled against Bertram.

"Who knows, cousin? We may even come to visit to you in your cell. Perhaps with a little prince of our own. A sweet reminder that all is now mine. The kingdom, the throne, your beloved…" He licked his lips.

Louis glared at his cousin, rage swelling inside him. Never. He would never allow this to happen. He swept his leg under Philippe's feet knocking him to the ground. He reached for his blade. "I think not, cousin." With a swipe of his sabre, he slit the other man's throat. Philippe coughed, a wet gurgling sound, and lay still. Bertram took one look at his comrade, then at Louis. He gasped and released Corinne, running madly towards the window.

Nice try, Louis thought and whipped his blade through the air, catching Bertram in the back. He fell. Louis ran to Corinne.

"Ma chère!" He threw his arms around her. "You're hurt! I'm so sorry! I should have-"

"Me? Look at you!" She tore a strip of fabric from her skirt and wiped the blood from his face. "Better."

He smiled.

"You did it," she whispered. "You really did it."

"I couldn't have. Not without you. When he started saying those things-"

"Shhh. It's all right now." She kissed his lips. "Everything will be all right." She kissed him again.

They broke apart when the door burst open and several guards entered the room. One locked eyes with Louis.

"Monster!" He screamed and fled. The others followed at his heels. Louis' hand flew to his face. Sometime during the battle with Philippe his mask must have fallen off.

Chapter Text

The king paced the length of his chambers worriedly. Reports had come in that the palace was under siege, just as his nephew had said. Musketeers stood on both sides of the doors armed and ready to dispatch anyone or anything that even looked to be a threat. A special knock was used to deliver updates and even then the men from outside were not permitted through the doors. The king dared not to take risks with his security. He regretted his younger days when only a few men patrolled the castle. Perhaps his son would still be living if...

He shook his head. Now was not the time for regrets. He would protect his remaining family at all costs. He would not make the same mistake twice.

Footfall was heard outside. The musketeers tensed, the king halted in his pacing. Three rapid knocks. A slight pause. Five more knocks. The musketeers relaxed slightly. This was their signal. One opened the door just enough to retrieve the message. He looked rather confused by the scrap of paper in his hand. His partner made a similar face.

"What is it?" the king demanded impatiently.

"It appears that the prisoners have, um, escaped, Your Majesty."

"Impossible! How?"

The musketeer hesitated. "Report says it was, uh, the old housekeeper who ambushed the guards and broke the girls out."

"What? That cannot be-"

Another signal. Another message. The musketeers stared at it wide-eyed.

"What is it now?"

"Count Philippe is dead."

The king stumbled back. It was happening all over again. He fought to control his breathing. "H-Have you apprehended t-the one res-responsible?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but the men are too afraid to approach him." He read. "It says he has a severe facial deformity, giving him the appearance of having only half a face."

Something deep in the king's heart cried out at the description of the man. It couldn't be. "H-How old?"

"Report says around twenty years."

The king threw the doors open and bolted down the hall. He had to see for himself. Musketeers ran after him. He ordered them to stay back, he just had to see! He rounded a corner. The man and his companion walked the opposite direction.

"Louis." the king whispered. The man stopped. He turned and the king's heart leapt. "It really is you!" He rushed forward, throwing his arms around his long lost son.

Louis stiffened. "F-Father..."

"After all these years! I don't believe it!" He pulled back to look at his son. "All this time I thought you were... Well, that doesn't matter now. You're home."

"Home?" Louis sounded surprised. "No. I don't belong in this castle."

"Of course you do! You are my son! You-"

"I stayed away for a reason. I'd tell you to ask him, but that's currently impossible."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"It was Philippe who tried to kill me fifteen years ago." Louis said coldly. "And again merely a week ago. So, I stopped him."

The king nodded slowly, processing what he'd just heard. His son killed his nephew. His nephew had almost killed his son. Pieces gradually fell together. Philippe had always been secretive after Louis' supposed death. His interest always lied with the seedier exploits of the kingdom. And he was fairly certain that man that was always with him was wanted for previous murders in England. Louis' words made sense. "You should have come to me as soon as you could have. All this could have been avoided."

Louis looked at the girl beside him and smiled. "I wouldn't trade anything I went through if it meant losing Corinne." He took her hand in his. She kissed his scarred cheek.

The king watched his son and this young woman. It was quite obvious they adored one another. It reminded him of his Isabel. "I understand. Love is a powerful force. But it's time for you to come home, Louis, the both of you. My son and heir to the throne."

"I don't want the throne." Louis said. "I just want to live my life with my inventions and my Corinne."

The king's heart jerked painfully.

"However, Corinne wishes to join the ranks of the musketeers. I trained her myself and I daresay she could best any one of them, Treville included." Louis boasted.

Impressive, the king thought. If she was as good as Louis claimed, then she would make a fine musketeer. It was also a chance to keep his son at the castle. "Very well then. I will arrange for several tests within the next few days. I do not doubt your words, my son, but protocol must be followed here."

"Thank you, Your Majesty, but," Corinne spoke up, "I don't want that anymore."

Louis turned to her. "But Corinne, your dream-"

"Is to be with you. I've had enough fighting to last a lifetime."

The king nodded, pleaded by her answer. Their devotion to each other warmed his heart. However, it saddened him as well. He could give all the orders he wanted, but none of that would keep Louis here with him. It was clear he had no desire to rule.

"There's nothing I can do to make you stay?" He asked. "Without you or Philippe, I have no heir."

Louis smiled. "Actually Father, I believe I have a solution to both of those problems."

Chapter Text

-Ten Years Later-

Corinne sat on a blanket on the manor lawn, enjoying the cool breeze. Summer was in full swing making staying indoors on days such as these impossible and picnic luncheons a common endeavor. She watched with eyes like a hawk as Louis and their daughter stood several feet in front of her, both with swords in their hands.

"Be careful!" She called out. "Not too rough!"

Louis nodded and the two slowly began to fence.

At age nine, Cécile was the spitting image of her father, from the chestnut curls to the crooked muscles in her cheek. Louis had agonized for weeks after her birth for passing on even a small part of his deformity, claiming he had ruined their sweet little girl. Corinne had been to exhausted to deal with his tantrum and took the time to bond with her daughter. It was only after she found his study destroyed that she sat him down and placed Cécile in his arms, stating fiercely that she was perfect. One smile was all it took and Louis was wrapped around her little finger. He couldn't deny her anything. When she'd heard the story of how her parents met, slightly edited of course, she begged Louis to teach her how to fight too. Corinne agreed so long as he promised to be patient and gentle, and so her lessons began. Cécile was a gifted fenced and talked often about joining the musketeers when she was old enough, just like her aunt Aramina.

"Give up, papa. You cannot defeat me, for I am a musketeer!"

"Ahh, but you forget, ma petit, I have defeated several musketeers," he teased.

Cécile giggled. "I know. But not like this!" She dropped her sword and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Louis stumbled back and they fell into the grass.

"All right," he laughed. "You win."

"Me too, papa! Me too!" Alexandre climbed off Corinne's lap and toddled towards his sister and father.

With his golden locks and bright blue eyes, Alexandre looked more like his mother than Cécile did. A small patch of pale, twisted skin behind his ear assured he inherited something from Louis other than his wild temper. He had just turned three the previous month and already decided he was going to be exactly like his papa. Corinne would often find him seated on Louis' lap trying to read a book upside down while her husband worked.

It warmed her heart to see Louis interact so lovingly with their children. Right from the start he had been convinced that any child, even his own, would be terrified of him and hate him. But with plenty of coaxing and Corinne's rule that his mask wasn't to be worn in their home, Cécile and Alexandre saw nothing wrong with their papa and were actually more afraid of the unfamiliar mask he donned whenever they traveled into the city for council meetings.

The Paris Council consisted of five members who met on a monthly basis to decide the future of all France. Each of the men were handpicked by the king himself. Louis tried several times to resign his seat on the council, but the king wouldn't allow it. He had to see his grandchildren somehow, he would say and then laugh. Corinne was glad that Louis was accepted back at the palace with such ease. Of course, there was some talk, but that was to be expected. She simply didn't let it bother her.

"Ma chére," Louis' voice pulled her from that thoughts. "Join us." He lay back in the grass, Cécile and Alexandre snuggled up to either side of him. Corinne smiled and walked over to them. Alexandre climbed onto his papa's chest to make room for his mama, and she tucked herself into Louis' side. Every once in a while, she wondered what her life would be like if she had accepted the king's offer to make her a musketeer. It wasn't often she thought that way. Sometimes it would creep up on a sleepless night or maybe if she was angry at Louis.

His arm wrapped around her shoulders and her mind quieted. If being a musketeer meant giving this moment up, she would refuse it again in a heartbeat. She loved her little family more than anything. Louis captured her lips in a slow kiss. No, she wouldn't trade this for anything. This was perfect.