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Into strange new worlds
Apr. 2nd, 2015 01:47 pmShock was too thin a word to describe the emotion that had Constance full in its grips as she sat heavy on the floor of the Queen's bedchamber, her arms wrapped protectively around the woman who was, above and beyond all things, her friend. Her heart pounded so heavily within her own chest that Constance half thought it might bruise against her ribs, and still she focused on nothing so much as holding the Queen close and attempting to offer comfort where the world had seemingly gone mad in the blink of an eye.
How could he have done this? How could anyone have even thought to try something so despicable and base against a woman who was by all rights untouchable?
Even as her thoughts raced, tripped and begun again to formulate something like a plan, thinking above all that they needed someone trusted, that they needed the Musketeers, the Queen tore herself out of her arms and Constance was left to watch in surprise as the woman dashed toward the direction of the Dauphin's rooms.
The Dauphin.
The memory of the baby Henry and the dangers the d'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis had thrown themselves into to protect the child were too fresh for her to forget the danger at hand. Rochefort's voice had screamed with the accusation that threatened undo them all, what could doom the Queen, Aramis, and their son. It could not be allowed. He could not be allowed to hurt them.
She followed without hesitation, clutching her skirts for fear of tripping over them, only-
The Queen had disappeared.
Stunned, Constance pulled up short, reaching out blindly for what turned out to be the handle of a nearby door. One she had never taken note of before, but turned so easily under her thoughtless grip that, unbalanced, she stumbled through the doorway when the door slid smoothly open. She did not fall, but caught herself after a step and found herself in a room that belonged nowhere within the Louvre. There she stood staring with wide eyes up at the great glass and wood ceiling above her, the world then framed in lush greenery the likes of which she'd never seen.
How could he have done this? How could anyone have even thought to try something so despicable and base against a woman who was by all rights untouchable?
Even as her thoughts raced, tripped and begun again to formulate something like a plan, thinking above all that they needed someone trusted, that they needed the Musketeers, the Queen tore herself out of her arms and Constance was left to watch in surprise as the woman dashed toward the direction of the Dauphin's rooms.
The Dauphin.
The memory of the baby Henry and the dangers the d'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis had thrown themselves into to protect the child were too fresh for her to forget the danger at hand. Rochefort's voice had screamed with the accusation that threatened undo them all, what could doom the Queen, Aramis, and their son. It could not be allowed. He could not be allowed to hurt them.
She followed without hesitation, clutching her skirts for fear of tripping over them, only-
The Queen had disappeared.
Stunned, Constance pulled up short, reaching out blindly for what turned out to be the handle of a nearby door. One she had never taken note of before, but turned so easily under her thoughtless grip that, unbalanced, she stumbled through the doorway when the door slid smoothly open. She did not fall, but caught herself after a step and found herself in a room that belonged nowhere within the Louvre. There she stood staring with wide eyes up at the great glass and wood ceiling above her, the world then framed in lush greenery the likes of which she'd never seen.
