The Mighty Fall

Chapter Three

Chapter 3

"So now what?" D'artagnan asked as we walked back towards our 'lovely' home. He continued, "Do we pick up where we left off?"

"I think there's been enough fighting for one day. Besides, any man who's an enemy of Rochefort is a friend of mine."

"Agreed." I chimed in.

"Who's Rochefort?" D'artagnan asked, blissfully unaware.

"Captain of the Cardinal's guards. The right hand of the most powerful man in France. Rochefort is the most feared swordsman in Europe. You certainly know how to pick your fights." Aramis informed the young man.

"Like I said, he insulted my horse." He told us. I snickered. Now that was a reason I could get behind.

"You're reckless, arrogant, impetuous, probably be dead by sundown, but I like you, lad." Porthos told him. He might as well take that as a compliment coming from him.

"Where are you staying?" I asked him.

"No idea."

"Ah! Do you have any money?" Porthos asked. D'artagnan pulled out a sack from his pocket that jingled with money.

"Well, good sir, you and your fine steed are welcome in our humble home." Porthos smiled, giving him a pat on the back.

"For the time being." Athos added, before walking inside.

"That goes in there." Aramis said motioning to his horse, Buttercup, to the stables under our home. We left the lad to do so and walked inside.

"What shall we drink to?" Porthos asked as we all sat around the table in the dining area. The mood wasn't as lively as before. Aramis sat reading, Porthos wanted nothing but food and beer, and Athos leaned against the wall, staring into the nothingness. D'artagnan and I sat uselessly, trying to lighten the mood in any way, shape, or form.

"How about the King?" D'artagnan suggested.

"He's a child. Cardinal rules in all but name, might as well drink to him." Athos said.

"To France."

"We served it, fought for it and bled for it. Look where it got us." Athos said unamused.

"Friendship? Love?" I nearly scoffed at the young man's words.

"Word of advice, boy. Trust no one." Athos told him. Cold words echoed as memories flooded in.

"There must be something you still believe in." D'artagnan pushed.

"This," Athos said holding up a coin.

"This," He threw his dagger up, pinning the coin to the ceiling.

"Or this," he said taking a swig of his drink.

"And the only exception: her." He said pointing to me.

I smiled, looking down to the floor, my face becoming warm. Athos and I had been friends for years. He was the first one of the three Musketeers that I met. We didn't get along too well in the beginning, but after a while we grew on each other. And.. we may have saved each other's asses more times than I could count.

"Anyone who tells you otherwise is either a fool or trying to sell you something." He said finally, before marching out of the room. I sighed before following after the hopeless man. Milady had really gotten to him. He loved her and she went and stabbed him right in the back. Or more so, the heart. He didn't deserve it, really. But Milady De Winter was a cold, heartless siren. One who does whatever gains her something in advance.