I thought to offer you all a little tidbit/teaser of the second chapter of One For All, And All For One titled ‘A Plan In Action’.
A Plan In Action
Strolling about the palace gardens, Philippe’s brown eyes brown eyes narrowed against the sun’s glare. A morose look played about his face as he pondered the circumstances that had led to Louis’ capture and his current role as the King of France. He had never wished for such a thing and knew naught how to go about things.
Aramis had told him that everything would soon fall into place, but he knew that nothing would ever be the same. He had lost his father, the noble D’Artagnan, moments after learning of his existence. His twin brother had taken his very life. While he was having trouble in coming terms with the fact that D’Artagnan had been his father and not King Louis XIII, he was grateful for the fact that he’d been granted that knowledge before his father’s demise.
He wanted to address that circumstance to his mother, but he was afraid to do so. She, too, was grieving over his death and he knew that now was not the time to question her about his parentage. He wondered briefly if Louis had ever known of the fact that they were of D’Artagnan’s blood. Yet he somehow doubted this fact, for his brother had not been there when the admission had been made.
Believing that Louis would take his son away from him in a fit of rage, D’Artagnan had refused to let Philippe go without telling him of his relation to the young man. He’d confessed his sin within those darkened corridors of the Bastille in front of the other Musketeers in hopes of righting all the wrongs that had been committed against him. He’d admired his father’s courage in telling him the truth and prayed that he would always watch over him and his mother.
You must have found it so hard to bear that cross, Father, he mused. Why you couldn’t have told me? I would have kept your secret.
Tears sprang to his eyes as he remembered lying across his father’s breast, crying for the man that he had never gotten to know. A father that had died while trying to save him. A father who would have worn the mask should he have had the chance to spare his son that fate.
He pressed his fists to his eyes, trying to keep his tears from falling. Yet doing so proved to be quite difficult. All of the grief and pain that he had endured for so long had finally broken free. Sitting down on one of the ivory benches found within the garden, he allowed himself to mourn all that he had lost; grateful for the fact that he was alone. The thought of someone else witnessing his tears mortified him.
Gathering a hold of himself, he continued on his way, taking in the lavish set-up of the gardens. It was obvious that his brother had gone to great lengths to ensure that the palace be very elegantly, albeit expensively, laid out. He had no desire for such riches and wished for a simple life with a wife and children. He had dreamt of such things during the time that he had spent imprisoned within the Bastille. Those dreams had been cut away the moment he’d stepped into Louis’ shoes. Everything that had once belonged to him was now within his possession and he was determined to right all of his wrongs.