Lower on this page you will find some of the story lines written on Twitter during 2014 mainly featuring @Musketeer_Athos . New Story lines will be highlighted below and may include contributions from other invited writers.

• A video Introduction  to the theme of war (Page: Athos at War)
• Athos reports to Treville (Page: Athos at War)
• Introduction to the Raoul’s Military Diary (Page: Raoul’s Military Diary)
• Diary entries from Raoul (Page: Raoul’s Military diary)
• Most popular Story Lines, including mine (Page: Favourites)

Please feel free to give constructive criticism to any post and to the content of this blog

Genevieve Banet (@GenevieveBanet), garrison cook has worked hard to make something special for her favourite musketeer…Athos. She dreams of him noticing her as a woman not just as the cook. She constantly seeks his approval. For Christmas she has decided to do something very special for him and from the sugar beets and canes she has spent many an hour perfecting this magnificent piece of sugar craft. She has burnt many a finger, leaving tiny scars and used all her time in the perfection of this gift. Just in the hope that he will acknowledge her-that’s all she wants-for she knows as a lowly cook she can never be as grand as @Exquisite_ Wren, the gentle woman he loves. But perhaps, her dream will come true and the man will smile upon her and make her happy.

Just one smile, Athos, that’s all she wants.

She leaves his gift with a simple tag saying: To Athos, a very special Musketeer.

She is happy with it…done to perfection for the perfect Musketeer.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I return to garrison, furious with the attempt of humiliation by Cardinal Richelieu, immediately grabbing the brandy bottle and pouring a drink. The day has not gone well, so quickly snaps back another, followed by another. Oh, how I hate this time of year with the pretence of happiness and friendship.

I see the gift on the table and give it a briefest of glances. Recognises it’s from that hapless cook whose time should be spent on perfecting her culinary skills instead of trying to poison us with wild and adventurous dishes. Snaps back another drink and settles down to await any emergencies of the night as I have volunteered for duty tonight, Christmas Eve. Puts feet on the table and in doing so the beautifully crafted token falls crashing to the floor… observed by the now devastated Genevieve.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ten minutes to ten at night and this Christmas Eve hangs heavy with the monotony of mundane military duty. My only comfort, yes that beautiful brandy which I don’t waste on any glasses but drink to excess from the bottle. I sit in my chair and slowly drift off to sleep by the warmth of the crackling fire. Emergencies can wait, nothing ever happens on Christmas Eve.

I wake with a start as Aramis pushes my shoulder, laughing in his rakish manner.

“Is this the way to spend Christmas Eve, alone with some brandy? Why I’m sure you remember times when the laughter rang out on these evenings. Come on Athos tell me of some.”

Annoyed to have the warmth of my deep slumber disturbed I furrow my brows into their usual scowl.

“What’s there to tell Aramis? I was happy once and I’m not now.”

Succinct and to the point!

I take the neck of the bottle and offer some to Aramis before swigging back to coat my rasping throat with its warmth.

“Its good stuff you know…and even if it wasn’t it’s better than recalling memories long lost”

Aramis grabs the bottle after me imbibes and wipes the drips from his moustache with his hand as replies,

“Not bad…and I’m sure not all your memories are bad of Christmas Eve.”

His own eyes gleam as his memories come flooding back, of stolen kisses under mistletoe , of handfuls of willing female flesh begging for his touch, of aching manly needs so easily sated on nights like these.

My mouth twitches nervously into smile

“I have had my fair share of good memories…but a gentleman never tells”

I drink some more as I recall my cousin Jacqui teasing me with playful kisses on the cheek as she then romped after my brother Thomas and how one year Thomas got a servant girl to delve her hand into my breeches as a dare.  We all used to run and laugh around the house with adolescent teasing in mind and yes one year I did kiss a servant girl and thanked her for not placing her hand that year on what would have responded more readily this time.

Yes there were years of Christmas Eve’s fun, frolics and laughter all were good heart-warming memories: but why hurt yourself with memories of the past. They just make the present more difficult to handle.

Because of course there was her…Anne de Brueil, my wife…

My life has never been the same since.

I take swig of the brandy and before drifting off to another deep slumber I hear Aramis say.

“Think of Genevieve and the work that has gone into her gift. Would it hurt you so much to say thank you and put a smile on her face?”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ten minutes to eleven and Aramis is nudging me again

“Wake up Athos and let’s drink to the future.”

His ever happy radiant eyes, dance with mischief and dangling the bottle so temptingly in front of me.

“You have us now and think of the fun we will have in the future. Comrades in Arms!”

This time he hands me the bottle and I drink to our future but as I do his eyes cloud over. Yet he continues his merry japes.

“France is secure with its new dauphin, you have found love again. We have a new friend in D’Artagnan and of course Porthos will always keep us amused. Yes, we have a lot to look forward to”

Yet I see in his eyes the truth that I also feel. The emptiness of love for him, forbidden: and for me, love ever tainted.

We both raise our bottle in a damp squib of a salutation

“The future!”

I swig back a gulp and think of the future…and an emptiness caught up in the misery of the past.  I see children growing up, not knowing their fathers, wives never seeing their husbands. I see love unfilled and all I see is sorrow. I see a lonely Genevieve still seeking approval and hiding her hurt.

This future is not so good.

“Why so sad?” Aramis asks of me

“As musketeers our futures are set on the path of duty, Aramis…there is no happy ending for us”

“Does it have to be that way?” He questions himself and well as me. “We have seen happiness and fun in the past, why can we not feel that again? What is there to stop us?”

His questions nag at both our souls.And it is this question that sinks into my dreams as I sleep again, brandy warm, emotions cold.

Try as he may I know Aramis’s optimism is but a front; he too is hurting, but his hurt manifests itself so differently to me.

You see him laugh, you see him flirt but rarely do you see him love.

I may not laugh I may not flirt but when I love; I love with all my heart.

So it is with a melancholy for the future I drift back into the warmth of sleep.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Ten minutes to midnight and a knock on the door to awaken my slumbers once more. Aramis stands proud and dazzling like the peacock he is.

“Come on Athos, let’s go to Mass” he pulls his gloves to better the fit and raises his chin.

“What’s the matter? Did you think I’d leave you alone at Christmas?” his smile radiates again.

“Three visits in one night…I am honoured” I reply as I gather my hat.

“Three?” He looks surprised, “Who else has been calling on you?”

I give him one of my sceptical looks the ones I give when he annoys me most. Especially as he now broken my sleep three times with his Christmas memories of past and future.

He places a hand on my arm and laughs I’ve just left one of the most beautiful women in Paris…and just in time before her husband returned home. He brings his fingers up to kiss them and throws the kiss to the air….

“She’s had her present three times tonight! “

I throw him a puzzled look and walk with him to Mass.

In the chill of the night the cloaked ladies dance their way to Mass giggling and whispering of earlier fun in the tavern, of kisses stolen and promises given. All except one who walks languidly alone at the back… Genevieve Banet, the garrison cook. The one who I had so tirelessly worked to present me with her exquisite token and I had so carelessly destroyed but a few hours ago.  My eyes follow as her dainty feet step carefully through the muddy cobbles, her head down her shoulders slumped. There was no joy to her movement, no vitality in face…just joyless movement.

She looks over to us as Aramis gives an exuberant wave of his hand. Her eyes then fall on mine and she buries her head back into her disconsolate walk.

I call out and hasten my pace to catch her.

She lifts her skirts and tries to scurry faster, trying to avoid me. Her heart broken by the handsome man, the Musketeer that had seemed so perfect but had so disregarded her token for him. She feels humiliation and hurt this Christmas from the one bright spark in her own loveless, monotonous life.

Catching her arm I halt her progress and turn her around. Her dark sanguine eyes peer up into mine and a solitary tear trickles down her face. My leathered thumb brushes the tear from her cheek as I stutter out my unusual gratitude for her gift. A feint, false smile flickers across her face as she turns to go giving her polite bob of a servant’s lowliness.

“No wait!”

Overwhelmed by guilt of my earlier action, consumed by memories of Christmas past and concerned for Christmas future and still holding her arm, I pull her back into the protection of my arms, wrapping them around her delicate frame.  In a move of powerful intention I press my lips on hers and move against hers in tenderness and affection. At first her lips freeze against mine, but unperturbed I continue this lingering kiss until her lips surrender to mine and she melts within the security of my arms. Pulling away I whisper with guilt ridden tones,

“Thank you for my gift. It was beautiful but I have a confession to make…”

She stops me before I can say any more by placing a finger to my lips and through a broken smile…

“I know,” she whispers, “and you can destroy a thousand more and I’ll never be as happy as I feel right now but do one thing for me Monsieur Athos… say my name… you have never said my name …and I want to hear my name on your lips, just once in my life. Just once I want to hear your smooth deep, velvety voice say my name…”

The night is silent and dark, only the shuffling of feet of worshippers heading for Midnight Mass can be heard…

“…Merry Christmas, Genevieve!  I hope all your dreams come true…”

By @karentompkins7  (Many thanks Karen) ….follow her on Twitter!

“No one alive can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad

I’m just a soul who’s intentions are good
Oh Lord, please, don’t let me be misunderstood”

Song written by Bennie Benjamin, Gloria Caldwell, and Sol Marcus

Adapted from Tweets dated 31st August 2014 by @Mlady_de_Winter, @Exquisite_Wren and @Musketeer_Athos 

Milady de Winter smirks with satisfaction at a job well done as she slinks into the shadows of the Streets of Paris

“No one touches my man!”

**********************************************************************************************************

I wake to a smoke filling bedroom and jump out of the bed to open the door to the house ablaze downstairs. I rush to the window, peering out and mentally access the situation, then cast an anxious look back to the sleeping Ninon and throw the strewn night gown across to her calling out to wake up as I rapidly dress and look anxiously around the room. Using my knife I hastily tear strips from the nearby drapes and throw them in the wash bowl pouring water over them. Throwing the rest of my uniform and weapons out the window I look back to her waking as smoke continues to fill the room. 

She wakes in a confused state, coughing uncontrollably from the effects from the dark cloud of smoke that fills and invades our room. Now Instinctively covering at her nose and mouth as she barely make out my form and reach for her night gown in haste as she throws it on and scream for my aid. 

“Athos! I’m frightened and I can’t breathe!” 

I rush to her side through the hazy swirls of smoke, dragging her to the window, both of us coughing and spluttering. I take her hand and I try to hide my concern. 

“…It’s too high to jump from here…” 

I look at her with deep disquiet. 

“…I need you to trust me like you’ve never trusted me before…” 

I give her a serious nod of my head asking for her understanding. 

She squeezes my hand, fearing the worst as she nods profusely, while swirls of engulfing smoke and fire threaten to tear us apart….nearing closer and closer smothering the lustre and fear in her eyes. 

“Please…just get us out of here” 

Squeezing out the strips of wet cloth I pass one to he while wrapping two around my knuckles. 

“…I’m going to carry you out…and I want you to just hold onto me and keep your eyes closed with this damp cloth over your mouth and nose” 

My stinging eyes burn down at her, 

“….just so you know….I’ve always loved you from the moment I met you…” 

I cough as smoke filling lungs start to burn, 

“….are you ready?”

 Overly anxious and spluttering out her cry,

“No….yes!” 

She trembles within my grasp, the chaos of overwhelming smoke constricting…crushing at her lungs, 

“…and I’ve always loved you too!” 

She brings the wet cloth to her pale and clammy features, prior to throwing her arms around my neck as she clings to my only hope…me! 

Gasping what clean air I can from the open window and vaguely aware of the street cluttering to the sound of buckets of water being passed along and ironically rain falling heavily…I scoop her up within my protective arms, holding her close to my chest as I start our dash into the fiery hell of the conflagration below. You seem to weigh nothing as the adrenalin surges through my body, pumping strength and courage as I open the door to face the wall of heat from the flames below. Crackling timbers glow alight and flames kick and dance around me as I run the well-trodden path down the stairs. Pressing the precious bundle I carry ever closer to me I skirt their torment, and parry their attacks but all the time their roasting aftermath sucks the living air out of me as I splutter my way through, kicking doors open and stumbling into room after room in this hell fire of a living nightmare. The blistering heat burns into my flesh but still I fight on seeking  that exit into the cooling airs of the Paris streets. 

Held so tightly by me…bound within the strength of my arms, her face buried against the safety of my neck, the roar of combusting flames that lick and fuse rapidly into a blazing, menacing entity that exudes the discharge of the emanate blinding life force at the egress of our escape. Her ears ringing, while fear unleashes terror at lightning speed within the course of her collapsing veins as she struggles to maintain my consciousness in her frail state. 

With the stalwart determination of a king’s Musketeer, defiant in the face of this blistering combustion, my unwavering spirit drives me to my physical limitations as I finally reach the entrance to collapse on my bended knees coughing as you are snatched from my arms by persons unknown to the safety of the rain soaked air of the Paris streets. 

Unaware of the receiving recipient’s arms, still gasping and struggling for breath as she is carried to safety, now drenched from the heavy rainfall in a fetal position, snatched from my heroic arms, my embrace. Her fragile life she owes to my bravery and skilled, unrelenting efforts. 

Aided by strangers I stagger outside. Exhausted, still coughing the fiery embers of our near deathly demise, I push them aside as I desperately seek her being. Seeing her bedraggled form so vulnerable, huddled so child-like in this pouring rain, rekindles that passion that burns so deep within me. Still pushing everyone aside I stumble over to her and in this torrential down pour, her gown now clinging magnificently to her shapely curves, I lift her once more into my loving embrace and kiss you ardently, for all my life is worth.

 Adapted from tweets dated 25th August 2014

Her breath lingers as she lies between the lonely sheets, awaiting the warmth of my caress and all that my athletic physique does possess. She rolls from her position on hearing my footsteps near her bedroom door. 

 A gentle sigh whispers the night’s secret tryst…a lovers’ bedroom retreat. 

She rests back against the pillows to greet my gaze… her heart always giving loving praise as she watches me pull my jacket from my form. Her eyes take in where her lips have adorned. She smiles slightly with purpose, watching as I unbuckle my belt, then as I slide down my breeches she leans forward to see where her inner warmth has felt. She gently reclines back against the pillows with a saintly smile and her heart…it melts. 

“Good evening,” 

 She smoothes a hand down the covers as her eyes alight for no other. 

“Are you coming to bed…?” 

 I watch your eyes as I peel off my clothing, a warm inner smile pervading my subdued expression. I nod a relaxed confirmation as I tug the sheet free and roll onto my side as I join her under the sheet. 

“…Have you had a good day?” murmurs contentedly. 

My eyes again take in the softness of her features and the inner beauty that warms my heart. I push away a stray lock of her hair as I smile with loving fulfilment into her innocent eyes. 

Uncertainty benumbs her smile, slowly moving back from where my hand stroked down that lone ringlet of hair. Her eyes shift from mine in despair, where it came from she does not know but a single tear rolls down, a shard of ice grazing her cheek. She moves back further from my faltering smile, her heart not registering for it has been a while. She rolls from my form to face the wall. Alone in her darkness is where her features fall. 

I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly into the vacuous void between us. Heavy hearted eyes extinguish the light of hope as I roll back to face my own demons alone. 

“…Goodnight…” 

 She quietly sobs into her pillow, her tears unseen though they keep me awake and with no arms to hold her she shakes. She yearns to reach back now and pull me into her loving embrace now thinking through that coldness she so unthoughtfully displayed 

I stare blindly ahead…just not knowing what to do…numb!

Adapted from tweets between @Musketeer_Athos and @Exquisite_Wren 22nd August 2014

I sit at the edge of the bed running my fingers through my hair and sigh as I look across the open arms of an ocean of a bed that separates us. She’s there, next to me yet so far away. I lower my head and sigh again. Even the loneliness of shadows refuse to conceal the ripples between us, the sadness of the tide keeping our limbs, caress and hearts from each other’s reach. Touch we both long for, though the journey seems far and wide as she smoothes her hand gently across to mine in need of my affection, warmth and embrace. My love…she implores.

 I look over with my heavy lidded eyes trying to express words and feelings that are submerged and even drowning in a cataclysm of emotional foreboding. She looks so frail, so delicate. My heart wants to burst for the want of her as I take the proffered hand and rub my thumb across those slender lines. 

“I must get up and go to the garrison.” 

Her desolate eyes meet the grievance of mine as she slowly leans forward to pull the sheet from the tucked confines of our made bed, the distance between the gentle caress of our hands…now gone with a sigh of her own.  She rolls from the coldness of these sheets with her bare form and gently slides the fabric around her lines, shielding her heartache is what I will find as she stands concealed on her side of the bed. She then moves around towards me with the gentle lift of her head. Her features pained, her delicate cheeks stained with what was before as her feet reach mine and eye my boots that rest on the floor.

 “Let me help you dress” 

 She sweeps a hand that pressed against the covering sheet. 

“Sit back on the bed while I help you with your boots. It’s the least I can do.”

  She lays a gentle had to my cheek, our hearts so far apart, yet within inches of each other’s embrace. She restricts this distance that keep us at a distant mark.

 I lower my melancholy eyes to watch every minute detail and movement securing them in my mind to treasure these moments as if they were my last on earth. My hand yearns to reach out to touch and caress you but my inner darkness forbids all significant signs of affection. Yet within me beats the heart of man desperate to take her within my protective arms and crush down the most passionate of loving embraces….yet I sit motionless….just watching…just yearning …just falling apart, hidden from her eyes.

 With weary wings, her tender fingers clasp at the rim of my leather boots, oblivious to where my eyes layer down upon her features.  My eyes peel back the monochrome of the woman that bends down to dress me in my soldier’s detail. Her attempt at scooping up the shattered pieces of her soul, our love, my love and what was the passion that we knew.

  I stand before her, a mighty figure of leather shod masculinity oozing earthly testosterone, an Adonis of a true fighting man, yet crushed by the sheet wrapped siren before me and hungering for your love.

  “I must go”

 My eyes plead for understanding. 

She trembles afresh at the sight before her, longing to feel replete, standing now at the window of my beseeching wearing her own armour, though her eyes grant grace when she nods and leans forward bestowing a gentle kiss to my cheek.

 I nod a curt thank you, forcing a polite smile to brave itself across my face, turns and strides out the room without looking back. 

Purpose driven I can only focus on the day ahead. 

Based on tweets between @Musketeer_Athos and @Exquisite_Wren  on 14th August 2014

It’s a windy day in Paris and memories are stirred of childhood play. A smile graces my face as I take a risk and send a message to her requesting she join me in an open park near the palace. I wait nervously unsure whether she will come. 

She glides toward me as if on the wings of a delicate butterfly, her smile as generous as the rays of the sun that shines down upon us. Exuding and projecting her self-assurance, when approaching me she extends  out her hand and nods a kind greeting, smiling into my eyes. 

“Athos. It is so good to see you again “

 She tilts her head slightly, 

“I really must thank you for inviting me here today.” 

She takes a moment to absorb my striking features and smiles once more. 

Relief sweeps over me and a mellow smile creeps across my face as the wind gusts around us 

“…I want to share something with you…” 

I take your hand and an ember of happiness starts to ignite. 

“…something I haven’t done for a long time.” 

She sweeps her tresses from her features as her eyes alight with curiosity and she gently entwines her fingers with mine, 

“Do tell. I’m curious now” 

She enjoys the close proximity as she lightly smooth her thumb across my grasp reassuringly. Her smile remains as she searches my eyes, radiating a confidence and willingness to engage in conversation with me. 

I feel content with your compliance and my, eyes burn down a rekindled magnetic energy as the lively gusts of winds sweep between invigorating my resolve. I lead you to my horse. 

“This is what I want to share with you.” 

I unravel string, parchment and a wooden cross…a magnificent hastily crafted kite and I smile with an enigmatic air. 

“Perfect weather!.” 

I await your response. 

The leaves on the ground gently toss and dance between us as she studies the kite within my grasp, before lifting her eyes back into mine. 

“I most certainly agree” 

She shifts her gaze and smiles at our surroundings, only to push her loose tendrils from her features once more. 

“May I?” 

She slowly proffers her hands out to me while her eyes revive in where our feelings lie. Love sparks emitting true from the beat of our hearts. 

I place the kite in her hands, 

“You fly it…and when the time is right I want you to cut it free… “ 

My cryptic words cut across my sceptical brow.

She looks into my eyes for what seems an eternity, before positioning her back to the wind, then she holds up  the kite to catch the perfect gust of wind, before she  slowly glances back over her shoulder to address me, 

“Will you stand with me? I would like to do this…together…”

 Her eyes beseech my own. 

My enigmatic smile returns and standing behind her I gently place my hands on her waist, the wind sending wafts of her rose scented hair, to stir memories of emotional warmth, encouraging me to nestle my chin on her shoulder. My gentle laughter sears softly against her ear as I watch the kite rise magnificently in the air displaying the message that I cannot say…

“Je suis desole!”

She sees the written words fluttering upon the kite and reads those heartfelt words I cannot repeat while I stand cheek against hers watching the words dancing boldly in the sky. Together we watch my words toying with the wind, begging for release before turning her head to face me she smiles with a forgiving grace. 

“May I borrow your knife please?” 

I pass her my knife and whisper against her ear. 

“Only cut it free if you forgive me…” 

She closes her eyes with a deep breath taken, feels the give of the string. The hold, this burden…she cuts free, allowing the kite to soar into the sky as she unsheathes her eyes, leaving all the sadness behind to watch it take flight and smile her final good bye to a precious gift made by our love, our ties. 

I snake my arms around her waist pressing my cheek next to hers again watching our troubles fly away into the gusty skies above and whispers against your ear. 

“Let’s go home shall we?”  

She nods as she presses back into me and smooth her hands along my arms with a smile of contentment…

 “Yes. Let’s.”

Poem and picture courtesy of @karentompkins7

Adapted from tweets between @Exquisite_Wren and @Musketeer_Athos  13/08/2014

I stride purposefully through the streets of Paris having completed a task for Captain Treville and I am caught totally unguarded as I turn a corner and come face to face with….her!

My heart misses a beat as a smile instantly appears only to be forced back from whence it came…the darkness of my grieving soul.

She inhales discreetly as she clasps her delicate hands before her, placing them upon her gown, presenting a brief but pleasant smile, only to be reminded of the ache that constricts her soul… their shared loss, a life they knew not now absent in this space that is cold

I stare into her eyes directly and gives a brief nod being a man of few words he seems even more at a loss, as a confusion of emotions fight to say words that never seem to surface. The few words that escape are wrapped in my warm liquid chocolate voice.

“You are well?”

She unceremoniously lowers her eyes as her resolve evaporates and softens her  features, thoroughly thinking through her statement, while she  holds back threatening tears that have had no time to fall,

“I must admit that I…have had better days And you?”

She raises my chin slightly, though glancing elsewhere

I feel crest fallen, assuming her negativity to be a personal slight,

“…I am…keeping busy…”

My eyes implore a meeting so burn down into her face awaiting her glance back into my direction.

She becomes aware of my sight’s silent request and slowly meets my gaze in awkward silence with eyes that say everything and says nothing

With my’ eyes search down into hers for answers or reasons, begging for a word of warmth or even hope.. then the awkwardness of the situation crashes home… but I take a chance and ventures to give a reason for hope.

“….I would deem it a personal favour…if I could call on you some time…”

.I still  search your eyes for a response and continue;

“..a time of your choosing, of course.”

My manner, stiff, formal but very wanting.

She checks any of her self-consciousness before warming to my words, conjuring both humility and strength from deep down within her  broken soul with a slight smile of acceptance.

” I’d like that…very much”

She smiles even more, crystalline eyes shields my pain, disguising what her heart and mind truly endures.

I nod a relieved thank you, with a small twitch of the mouth, the basis of a smile,

“I’ll await your instructions…”

I tips my hat and move to continue on my way…wondering now how to say those other difficult words on our next meeting…

She gracefully glances back over her shoulder briefly and smiles to herself, watching me move away.

With a deep breath taken, she glides the remainder of the way back to her residence. On reaching the front door and turning at the handle… all her angst and her heart ache returns… flooding and crushing her perfect world. She pushes through the door in the company of one and falls to her knees with the release of those long awaited tears that did not fall.

Clutching at her forehead as she cries away pain that suppressed the sensation…of her knees that crashed to the floor