All For Love

Chapter 7: A Woman's Place

Chapter 7: A Woman's Place

It's a joy to write this piece. You'll see a softer side to the playful Comtesse, which will set up the rest of the plot. Fitting Antoinette into the storyline wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. The script is easy and flexible to add another person without drifting from the main purpose, which is to exploit the Cardinal's plans to the audience and for the Musketeers to adventure here and there to stop him.

Thank you already to the views and readers who have enjoyed the segments and/or favorited the story. Support is welcomed and it certainly strives me to push through page after page. :)

Disclaimer: I do not have the privilige to own the rights to the actors, script, or any franchise of the Three Musketeers. All rights are to creators of movie but most importantly to the delightful Alexandre Dumas, who has the best name to say with a French accent. :)

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Noon had high time past over Cooper's Yard. Chasing sunbeams narrowed down alleys and over cartmen's cargo. They shone over the river with murky shallows. Sunlight scattered over broken tiles on a roof and down the shutes of chimneys. Smoke raised the sun back up from it's despairing fumes. Gold touches on plain jewelry saddened old wives with nothing to look forward to. Wayward children ignored the shiny bits and pranced along the streets looking for game.

A lone afternoon beam slanted shadows by the Musketeer's apartment, awaiting for them and the stranger with a horse held in reins come from below the underbelly of a bridge. D'Artagnan held on his head a hat. A poor man's attempt to sustain rich status with a withering chicken's dyed feather.

Antoinette braced an arm by her side, rather than clutched to Aramis' elbow. Her side twitched in pain every so often, which concerned her. Her wounds should not have been that deep to cause her ribs to ache.

Antoinette's troubles packed in the back of her brain. Small sunlight grew a warm path on her belly, where some of the pain ended. It soothed her as the warmth contracted the muscles' spasms.

"So, now what?" D'Artagnan sounded confused. His hand held the horse, Buttercup, as a steering rod. Cooper's Yard was the first action he lived for and was unsure if he wanted to pick another fight from his leftover adrenaline, or dilute it down with some good wine. "Do we pick up where we left off?"

Athos tasted bitter sunlight on his lower lip. It would have been never too early for a drink at the tavern across the way. However two run ins with two enemies left his stomach too full but his mind running on empty. He'd probably grab another drink at home anyway, leaving the ale to muddle his mind.

"I think there's enough fighting for one day," he said hand on his belt.

Porthos waved his hand, finger rings glittering in the sun. "Besides, any man who's an enemy of Rochefort is a friend of mine," He clapped the youth on the back.

"Who's Rochefort?"

Out of the shadows and into the sunlight, Aramis readjusted the hat in the oncoming wind. He turned reluctantly to the whelp, whose curiosity would send him to the bounty office for too many questions. The people of Paris were simple; they never liked unwelcomed visitors asking around the hot spots to go for a drink or a brawl or a woman. Too much attention would leave dissatisfied customers.

Lucky for Aramis, he no longer craved such curiosity. But that did not mean he would teach others to stop their curiosity. Then there would be questions with too complicated explanations. "Captain of the Cardinal's guards. The right hand of the most powerful man in France,"

Antoinette added, "Not to mention the most feared swordsman in all of Europe,"

He scoffed lightly. One day, and the boy had made plenty people mad. "You certainly know how to pick your fights," Aramis said unbelieving.