Chapter Text
The four musketeers strolled into the Louvre in a sleepy and languid manner, the sweltering morning sun blistering through the clouds and slowing their movements considerably.
"To what do we owe the pleasure of meeting the king on this very fine day then, Athos?" Aramis hollered, breaking away from his brief scrabble with Porthos.
Gazing over his shoulder momentarily, Athos took in the sight of his three brothers, the three men who managed to hold him together through every battle, every triumph and every defeat. And he smiled.
"We have the pleasure," Athos elaborated as they slipped into the shade of the palace archways. "Of meeting with a physician, travelling from the south, who claims he can eliminate the effects of aging. And has offered to demonstrate these claims to the king."
The three shook their heads disbelievingly. For the past few months, the king had been inviting various people from around the country and beyond to demonstrate talents and theories before himself and the court. And each and every arduous meeting dragged forth Treville and his four favorite musketeers.
Every time.
Sweeping into the courtroom, the four men made their way to their various stations in the grand room.
The king was sat majestically on his throne, peering at his shining nails whilst a small scrawny looking man introduced himself elaborately before the room.
d'Artagnan caught Athos' eye from where he was stood and rolled his eyes dramatically, earning himself a rare grin from the older musketeer before he zoned back into what the man was saying.
"Your majesty! I am Monsieur Le Maître, and I am stood before you to present my latest discovery." He announced proudly, throwing his arms wide for added attention. "We call it 'Le Sauveur'."
He'd caught the king's attention now, the man leaning eagerly in his throne, his face wrapt with excitement. "Does it work?" He questioned, earning a sneer from the cardinal who looked as if he would rather watch paint dry than listen to the man's claims.
Le Maître grinned back, flashing far too many teeth for Athos to find comfortable, as he withdrew a small white pouch from his cloak and held it out for the whole court to see.
"I would offer you my word." He chuckled, a little bitterly. "But, for the king of France...I believe something more special is in order. How about a demonstration?"
The cardinal jumped forwards. "The king shall participate in no such...experiments!" He hissed indignantly, folding his arms in a rather petulant manner as Treville moved forward to agree.
"Oh no, no, no!" Le Maître quickly corrected. "Of course not, this is for his Majesty's entertainment! I was suggesting a more..." He trailed off, glancing around the room until his pale eyes settled on d'Artagnan.
Stretching out a bent, old finger he annunciated the words. "You boy."
d'Artagnan paused, unwilling to be a part of this twisted performance.
"Come now, boy." Le Maître prompted, glaring at d'Artagnan expectantly. Sparing a glance at his three friends, who all seemed equally reluctant, he moved forwards nervously.
"Come now," Le Maitre smiled as a young maid supplied him with a small chalice of wine. "Don't be afraid, boy."
d'Artagnan narrowed his eyes at the man.
"Tell me. What is your name, lad?"
"d'Artagnan." Le Maître nodded with a grim smile. Beckoning the gascon with his index finger, the maid helped him drop the white pouch of powder into the wine before holding it out for d'Artagnan to take.
Hesitantly d'Artagnan took it in both his hands, holding it firmly and frowning up at the king skeptically.
Louis huffed impatiently. "Drink it d'Artagnan!"
With one final glance directed at Athos, the boy brought the cup to his lips and took a sip of the cool, blood red liquid.
A few silent moments floated by effortlessly and d'Artagnan pulled the chalice away.
Le Maître smiled smugly.
And d'Artagnan began choking.
The whole room erupted in a flurry of movements, as d'Artagnan stumbled blindly backwards, crying out in pain as his bones shifted beneath his skin.
The three inseparables surged forwards, growling like hungry wolves for Le Maître's flesh.
However, as if planned, another five men leapt from the crowds and restrained them as Le Maître's voice called across the chaotic court for calm.
With a racing heart and boiling anger Athos pulled past the men holding them back when suddenly he was thrown back as an impossibly bright light exploded before them.
Heaving and fighting the ringing in his ears, Athos swayed dizzily to his feet.
Le Maître was grinning like a cheshire cat over a pile of clothes.
d'Artagnan's clothes.
d'Artagnan was gone.
d'Artagnan was gone!
Athos felt as if he'd been punched in the chest.
d'Artagnan was gone.
Something moved beneath the rags.
...But d'Artagnan was gone...
...Only...he wasn't...
A small head popped from the leg of d'Artagnan's breeches.
A small child's head.
Chocolatey dark eyes blinked blearily before the court, a small nose and plump lips wrinkling up and throwing shadows against the small horseshoe shaped scar above his right cheek bone, nervously.
"Your majesty!" Le Maître chuckled excitedly. "I give you d'Artagnan!"
The child blinked and disappeared back under the clothes sleepily.
And Athos' life was considerably shortened.
***