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Chapter Text

There was much to do as the damage done by Feron, the King, Grimaud and Gaston continued to vibrate through Paris. The Queen wanted to make sure there were people she trusted to help her and oversee a France with new promise.

Porthos was to lead the war effort, hopefully to bring an end, but to do that he would need the support of the new administration.  Aramis was Minister of State to deal with foreign affairs with the added ability to watch over his son. Athos was named the Minister of Affairs to handle domestic matters. France needed to build a justice system, bring fairness inside France’s borders to limit rebellion and put competent officials into place, not necessarily nobles.  People who could be entrusted to be reasonable.

The army and the guard needed to be rebuilt. The garrison was the first project.  The refugees were helping and given a wage to use their skills.

It would serve as a model he and d’Artagnan had discussed. There would be more than one garrison so that they could train in other areas of France and find those who were destined to be soldiers, Musketeers or guardsmen. France needed a standing army and it was lacking. Aramis was working on securing Swiss forces to help train the French in addition to increasing their forces in the meantime.

There were other plans, more grandiose that would lead to France’s prosperity, but security was first. There was need to help the veterans, especially those who had given a long time of service. A place that they could be housed after they retired if they needed it, but also they needed opportunity, too.

He was waiting on d’Artagnan in his offices to get an update. The announcement of a visitor was unexpected seeing as the Captain of the Musketeers usually entered without fanfare.

“Sir, there is a party waiting for you. The sisters said we were to give this to you as an introduction.”

When he turned over the letter he saw the forget-me-not seal. “Can you give me a moment?” It was an order for the servant to wait outside.

During the war he had met up with Anne once, as her business brought her through Spain. Treville had hired her as a spy. She admitted she needed the funds, but she had a dream to open a shop in London when all was said and done.  That night he had returned the glove, which led to a night of passion with promises to write and reunite at the end of the war.  There were intermittent letters.

When Athos had asked Treville for Anne’s location the man admitted she had been out of touch. His thoughts had been to start an extensive search, but the letter answered his question as he placed a hand over the words thinking about her sitting at a desk writing to him.

Anne was dead. They had a son. She had charged him to raise Raoul, their son.  Anne wrote that Athos would find their son had a quick mind and a loving nature. He was the best of both of them.

Athos gulped down his mourning. There would be time for that later with his son. They would help each other heal. He opened the door. “Bring them in-quickly.”

The servant announced the presence of the sisters and the convent they were from. It was a convent on the outskirts of Paris. To think his son was so close. Raoul was between the nuns, holding the hand of one of them.

He had shocking dark hair and light eyes.

One of the nuns cleared her throat. “Raoul, this is your father, Olivier de la Fere, a Minister of France.”

“Hello.” He bent down on his knees, felt the tears and brought the boy close to him. Perhaps it was the wrong type of greeting as the boy was stiff in his arms.

The boy sighed. “Mama said I was to be good for you, but not too good.”

“Raoul,” one of the sisters admonished him.

Athos wiped the tears, but his smile remained and the lightened spirit. “I think we will get along fine.”

The master swordsman did not know how long he sat on the settee with his son. The nuns had left with a hefty donation to thank them for the good care of the boy. Raoul was entertaining him with stories of the cats at the convent when d’Artagnan interrupted with his entrance.

“You’re late.” Athos was never as happy with someone’s tardiness as he had been with d’Artagnan.

“I apologize.” D’Artagnan gave a courtly bow. He noticed the child right away. Raoul tried to hide behind his father. “Did you replace me? Is this the new Captain?”

Athos moved out of the way. He wanted his son to be familiar and close to his brothers. “D’Artagnan, meet my son, Raoul.”

“Pleased to meet you.” D’Artagnan bent down so he was at Raoul’s level.

His son noticed the pauldron and the uniform. “Are you a musketeer?”

“He is my brother and the Captain of the Musketeers.” The smile remained fixed on Athos’s face. His child was a wonderment.

“Mama told me stories.” The young lad seemed to be in awe.

“I can tell you more if you would like? I was Captain of the Musketeers before Minister.” Athos asked. He could be the father the boy deserved-- the one Anne wanted him to be.

“And when he is done I can tell you more.” D’Artagnan smirked. “I will leave you. The repairs are almost complete.”

Raoul was waiting eagerly for a story so Athos started, “My Captain was named Treville. He was an honorable man and one day he sent Aramis, Porthos, d’Artagnan and myself on a mission. . .”

Chapter Text

D’Artagnan could not help the spring in his step as he rode through Paris.  All thoughts were about his wife. He found her in the garrison, and he swept her into a kiss with a large grin.

“What brings that smile to your face?” Constance nuzzled the side of her husband’s cheek.

“Athos has a son. A strapping lad with his eyes.” The Captain whispered although the cadets seem to be enthralled with training.  D’Artagnan had hired some of the former soldiers to provide assistance to share their experience, which proved to be a godsend.

Constance’s eyebrows went up. “A son?”

“Milady,” d’Artagnan answered in sufficient explanation. She had helped them when it seemed like Constance and Aramis would lose their heads.  D’Artagnan tugged at his wife to follow him.

“Where are we going?” Constance resisted for a moment before putting down the mending and allowing herself to be led towards their rooms.

D’Artagnan was filled with hope and longing for a child. Seeing his friends content and happy with their offspring made him want one of his own, badly. “Perhaps?”

“Perhaps.” Constance said, thankfully without the reminder that the cadets were like their children. It wasn’t the same, but d’Artagnan never disagreed.  Considering the cadets as children provided some peace for Constance as her womb never quickened.

Months passed and each month Constance’s course came. D’Artagnan thought back to Bonacieux’s curse. Were they cursed to never have children?

The first cadets were ready. The garrison rebuilt larger than before and Paris was bustling with activity.  D’Artagnan had picked the best to bring to Porthos. He collected the missives and personal letters to bring to the general.

Constance was helping him pack his saddlebags. He kissed her deeply allowing him to be tempted for a few moments alone with his wife, but then she swatted him away. “Can’t have the Captain late.”

He knew how much his wife worried for his well-being. She had said so last night as they enjoyed each other. She was nervous. “I should return in 6 weeks, 8 at the most. I’ll be careful.”

“I love you,” she stated softly, then placed her hand in his as they walked out to the yard together so she could see him off.  

D’Artagnan sensed the nervousness of his cadets as they got closer to the frontline. He spoke to them of his experiences.  He did not reckon that his squad would be immediately pressed into service as they came upon a skirmish.  The French forces were stuck, but d’Artagnan’s Musketeers split into two groups- one to come in unnoticed on one side and the other as a diversion. The tactic worked and the Spanish retreated.

Porthos, a menacing figure on horseback, charged towards d’Artagnan as he wiped his blade. “You always knew how to make an entrance.”

“General!” D’Artagnan called out to his friend who dismounted to give the younger man a proper hug that almost took him off his feet.

A few pats on the back and a moment of standing in each other’s presence after almost a year led to Porthos leading them away from the scene. “Let’s talk before I have to give you a field commission and explain to Constance why you’re staying on the front.”

The General’s tent was large, setback with two guards, one of whom brought wine to the table before excusing himself.  D’Artagnan brought out the missives and letters, handing Eloide’s first.

Porthos’s wife had sent a miniature of their daughter. “She’s beautiful. Eloide sent a lock of her hair for good luck.” Porthos kissed both.  “Any news from you and Constance?”

D’Artagnan tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. “No, not yet.”

“It will happen. You’ve got children to teach to ride and shoot.” Porthos reminded d’Artagnan of his words when they were trapped by Grimaud. “Any news from the others?”

Athos came to mind first, their friend was a wonder as a father. “Athos’s son is like his shadow, and a playmate for the dauphin.”

“He’s a doting father.” Porthos smiled.

“Spoils him,” d’Artagnan confirmed. Raoul for all the spoiling was not an ill-tempered child.  “Aramis likes that the King has a playmate.”

“I’m sure he does.” Porthos could not say out loud that Aramis was happy that his son’s playmate was continuing on the legacy of a brotherhood.

The conversation turned to the garrison and the new Musketeers that d’Artagnan had brought with him. “We are building other garrisons in Orleans and Tarbes.”

“You’ll train them all?” Porthos added more wine to his friend’s glass.

“Not quite. There are soldiers that want to share their knowledge.” D’Artagnan knew he did not have to explain much further to Porthos.

“Broussard and Leon.” Porthos had sent them back from the front after they had sustained battle wounds that needed more time away from the front.

The idea was that each of them would lead a garrison and produce soldiers and guards. “Yes, they’re healing from their injuries and are willing to take on the role.”

“Should mean more reinforcements. The Swiss have been a help, but they’re paid mercenaries. I need men to fight for France.” 

D’Artagnan felt the stirrings of battle. Porthos could always rally the troops.  The younger man remained with the General for two weeks. He would returned with the injured and missives, of course.

As they neared Paris, Planchette, a new guardsman, rode up. “Sir, I’ve been asked to bring you to the palace at once.”

This was highly unusual. He had the injured to bring to the garrison. “What’s happened?”

“Madame d’Artagnan has taken ill,” Planchette said with imploring eyes. “She is at the Louvre.”

“I will go directly, lead the others to the garrison,” d’Artagnan ordered and spurred his horse.

The horse charged ahead into the crowded streets, luckily people stood back. He made it to the palace, sprinting to the door. 

Athos met him, pulled him to the side and Aramis joined him. There seemed to be a conversation going on, which he had no patience for. “I want to see my wife.”

“We need to speak for a moment. She’s resting comfortably.” Athos gripped d’Artagnan’s arm so that the younger man remained in place.

Aramis came in closer. “Constance has been poisoned.”

He was happy that Athos still held his arm as d’Artagnan would have fallen back upon hearing the news. “Poisoned? Will she be alright? Who did it? Have they been caught?”

The two pushed him further into an alcove for privacy. “D’Artagnan, Constance poisoned herself.”

What his brothers were telling him did not make sense. Who would poison themselves? “How’s that possible? I don’t understand.” He slumped against the wall.

Athos brought his forehead near d’Artagnan’s as if his head was too heavy with knowledge. “Constance was afraid to have children in case you died. She took it upon herself to insure that.” Athos’s voice was choked with emotion.

D’Artagnan shook his head. “No, that’s not possible.”

Aramis placed a hand on side of d’Artagnan’s face. “She’s been taking the tincture too long. It caused…”

The younger man could no longer listen to the Minister of State.  His only desire was to see his wife. “Please take me to her.”

Athos bowed his head, he walked on d’Artagnan’s right side, while Aramis was on his left.  The duo stood back was he entered the rooms that had been given to Constance.

She was set upon a set of pillows so that her upper body was lifted up. Her skin was pale, washed out, her red hair, usually brilliant was dull and in a single braid. Constance opened her eyes. “You returned,” she whispered.

D’Artagnan did not hesitate. He joined his wife on the bed, pulled her gently towards him so he felt her in his arms. “Always. Always for you.” He kissed her forehead.

Constance licked her dry lips. “I didn’t believe you. Forgive me.”

There was so much to forgive, secrets his wife had kept, but the truth was he could forgive her. “I love you.” He kept repeating the same words as her breath labored, as the Queen stopped in, as his friends stood guard until she passed in his arms.  D’Artagnan told no one, holding his wife as he drifted until he felt Athos’s hand on his shoulder.

“I am sorry for your loss.”

He could not speak. Decisions were made for him about a burial and the mass.  He was in attendance and recalled receiving condolences. Distinctly, there was a memory of Raoul worming close to his side, remaining there as an anchor until pulled away by Athos. Eloide carried Marie-Suzette and invited him to visit anytime, her daughter’s eyes wide and inquisitive.

Days later he returned to their rooms at the garrison going through the abode until he found it—the poison she had hidden from him to deny him children. He brought it to Aramis.  They were walking through the garden with Raoul and the King playing nearby.

“Mugroot and possibly pennyroyal” Aramis wrinkled his nose after sniffing the tincture. “I will throw this away.” The Minister hid it away in a pocket, then changed the conversation to discuss security on visit from one of the Italian dukes.

D’Artagnan tried to pay attention, but only heard the sounds of playing children. His feet led him to Athos’s office. He could not stay in Paris with reminders of her and children around him. “I’d like to leave Paris for a while.”

It was as if Athos was expecting him. He leaned back in his chair with his orders at the ready. “The new garrisons need to be built and recruited.”

“Thank you, I’ll leave at once.” D’Artagnan would seek out a location in Orleans and mourn his loss in hard work and distraction.

Chapter Text

18 months later

Athos had missed d’Artagnan. There were regular letters from both him and Porthos, but finally they would all be in Paris. The General had been recalled to report about the status of the war.

D’Artagnan had released the garrison in Orleans to the control of Broussard. Leon was named Captain of the garrison at Tarbes.The Gascon had sent word that the journey would take a little longer than expected, but he would be in Paris by the month’s end.

Aramis, the Queen and himself had spoken about promotion for the young Captain. Reports from Broussard and Leon confirmed the two outposts were a success. There was less discontent in the surrounding areas of Orleans and Tarbes.

D’Artagnan had sent word once he had entered Paris. Athos retained his patience only because Porthos and Aramis were also waiting with him.

When the announcement came it was still unexpected.  D’Artagnan entered with a sheepish smile. “I know you expected me earlier, but-“ the explanation was lost as he was hugged by each man in turn with Porthos lifting him off his feet.

“You look well.” Athos saw the light seemed to have come back, the zest he had before Constance had passed seemed to have returned.

They were interrupted by a young boy with blonde hair around the age of Raoul ran in, stopping suddenly when he realized there were strangers. He placed himself close to the Gascon. 

“He got away from me.” A familiar woman following the boy announced.

D’Artagnan reached out a hand to her. “I think you know my wife.”

“Lady Deville,” Athos recalled her title. Lucie deFoix had married, but had been widowed.  The Minister of Affairs remembered her husband had property in Orleans.

D’Artagnan cleared his throat. “Madame d’Artagnan.”

“How? When?” Porthos put his hands on his hips.

“In Orleans,” Lucie confirmed Athos’s information. “This is my son, Cyrille.”

D’Artagnan placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I was hoping to see Raoul. I’ve told Cyrille how they will be fast friends.”

“He’s with Louis out on a ride. I will make sure there is an introduction when they return,” Aramis said and Cyrille gave a nod of understanding.

“He’ll also be at supper tonight. Eloide will be happy to meet Madame d’Artagnan and her son.” Porthos had made plans with his wife for a welcome dinner.

“Lucie, please.” She placed a hand on Cyrille’s head.  “I will leave you. We are to stay at my brother’s house in Paris. I inherited it after his death.”

D’Artagnan bit his lip and gave a sidelong glance to his wife. “We thought the quarters at the garrison might be a little cramped with all of us.”

Lucie blushed. “I am with child.”

Aramis was the first to regain his wits after being stunned. “Congratulations.”

Porthos swept Lucie up resulting in her giving a squeal so he set her down. She adjusted her skirts. The General explained, “Eloide is expecting, too.”

Lucie placed a hand on Porthos’s arm. “I look forward to meeting her. Cyrille, do you wish to see your new home?”

The boy seemed hesitant to want to leave with his mother, his interest peeked in the gathered men.

“I promise I will bring my son with me tonight.” Raoul needed another friend.

The promise was enough for Cyrille to decide. “I will go with Mama.”

Athos moved to poor brandy for them to toast d’Artagnan’s good news. 

“You are all surprised?”

Aramis nodded his head. “Yes. We have been concerned for you.”

“You also never mentioned Lucie in your letters,” Athos added. Neither him or Aramis had been informed. D’Artagnan must have requested that Leon and Broussard remain silent on the development.

D’Artagnan drank. “It was difficult at first. I kept feeling as though I was maligning Constance. Guilty. I thought you would all think I was being disloyal. But I think we helped each other heal. We were also surprised on where it led.”

As much as Constance had wanted forgiveness, Athos recognized that d’Artagnan wanted the same. It was the same for him and Anne. “You will always love Constance. She would only want what was best for you.”

Porthos nudged d’Artagnan’s shoulder in solidarity. They had loved Constance, they would respect Lucie, too.

“It’s good to be back.” D’Artagnan took a seat with a sigh.

Aramis glanced at Athos who gave the other Minister permission to reveal the promotion. “You will be busier than ever now, Colonel.”

D’Artagnan responded to Aramis’s comment by dropping his mouth open. He was stunned.

Athos continued, “Someone needs to manage three garrisons.”

“You’ll need a new hat.” Porthos laughed.

“I was just starting to like the one you gave me,” d’Artagnan replied once he had recovered. “I have to tell my wife.”

“Tonight we will make it official—a pleasant surprise and another reason to celebrate.”

Aramis had a point. It would be nice to have a more private presentation amongst friends.  There was much they all had to do, and these moments spent with family were all the more precious as they marked milestones together.