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. . .”