Work Text:
Constance Week: Day 6
Favourite AU: Constance's arranged marriage is to d'Artagnan instead of Bonacieux.
Constance had never really wanted to get married, but she understood that she couldn't just spend her days in the house - it was hard feeding the whole family, and as she was the only girl, it would be expected that she was married off before her brothers were forced to make their way in the world. So she was at peace with the decision that a husband must be found for her.
What she had not made her peace with, however, was that the man she was supposed to be marrying lived in Gascony, on a farm. Not only did she have no idea how to behave on a farm - it was so far away. She would not be able to visit her father or her brothers as often as she would like - if at all. And she'd heard horror stories from a few friends who had been recently married. But she would do her duty to her family, and that was that.
So when she actually met this d'Artagnan, she wasn't quite expecting him to be so young and, well. Attractive. As their fathers left them in the kitchen to get to know each other, and make plans as to a dowry or whatever it was that they did, she took a good look at him. He was tall, his hair seemed to have been combed very hastily just before they arrived. She wondered if it had ever met a brush before. He had lovely eyes, admittedly, and no, she was not going to keep staring at those lips. He was well dressed, for a farmer's son, but her own father had told her that his mother had come from a noble family, the d'Artagnans, and he had been raised to be a gentleman. He squirmed a little under her gaze, and she decided that he looked absolutely adorable when he blushed.
"Do I pass muster then, Mademoiselle?" She blinked, and then blushed a deep red to have been caught in her examination of his features. She stuttered and stammered an apology, but he smiled and waved it away. "Well, beautiful mademoiselle, will you have me? Or shall I explain to father that I am simply not good enough for such an angel as yourself? Because if you ask it of me, I will."
She stared at him, shocked at his words, but also pleasantly warmed by the idea of her having a choice in the matter at all.
"That won't be necessary, Monsieur. I believe I want to keep you, if you have more to say along those lines, flatterer." She was surprised by her own boldness, but the young d'Artagnan grinned, and held her hand in his and kissed it.
"Then I shall tell you that I have never seen a woman so beautiful, or if I had, it is forgotten, in light of your smile." She kept her eyes on the floor after that because she was too embarrassed to say anything - no one had complimented her like this before, not really. It had only ever been cat-calls, and some had even mistaken her for a working girl. The nerve of them. She was a respectable merchant's daughter, albeit not a rich merchant. Certainly they weren't poor enough yet that she would have to sell herself to keep bread on the table.
"You know why my father and yours thought we'd be a good match?" d'Artagnan asked, and she shook her head. Her father hadn't really discussed any of this with her, and she had trusted him to make whatever decision he needed to. "No?" he confirmed, and lifted her head by the chin up gently so that she was facing him. "Apparently it's because you like adventure." She snorted.
"And a farmer's life is very adventurous, is it?"
"No, but I don't want to be a farmer all of my life - one day, I'm going to be a Musketeer." He said it with such confidence that she found herself grinning, and she began to really think about it.
"And then we'd move back to Paris?"
"Well, the Musketeers garrison is in Paris, so yes?" She slapped him for being an arse, but she was laughing along with him.
"What about the farm though? Don't you need to look after it?" she asked with concern. "It does belong to your family after all."
"And it will stay in the family," he assured her. "Don't tell father this, but I have it all planned out. My cousin Roger has always been better at managing expenses that I have, so I'll ask father to ask him to assist in that, and then slowly give him more duties, and then ask if he wants the farm."
"And if he says no?" Constance asked, excited by his enthusiasm, but sensing a flaw in his plan. She had never been one to plan too far ahead in her future, but she could see it now as he described it, and she had never looked forward to anything more than she was now looking forward to spending more time with this young man.
"That's the best part. He's in on it. Has been since we were fifteen. He won't say no." She laughed, and heard footsteps coming from the opposite side of the house. Their fathers were probably done discussing whatever terms were to be agreed upon. There was something comforting about the fact that she was not the only one having her fate decided for her. A sort of "we're stuck in this together" camaraderie. Also there was the fact that she found this boy a genuine delight to look at, and he could make her laugh.
"Quick, look like you're laughing at something I said." He told her and she rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
"No, how about I say something and you laugh. I can be funny too, if the situation calls for it." D'Artagnan grinned as the door opened and both of their fathers walked through the door, looking thoroughly pleased with themselves.
"Well, what do you say, my dear?" Asked the older d'Artagnan kindly. Constance and d'Artagnan made eye contact, and she smiled slyly.
"Oh, I suppose he'll do." She tried to sound nonchalant, and it almost worked, until the man looked to his son and saw him trying to hold back a grin.
"I see. My daughter lives just a mile away from here with her husband, I'm sure she'll be delighted to help you with your dress and whatever else it is that you need to have ready." She blushed and thanked him for the offer, but assured him that she had a good friend who would do just as well.
She and d'Artagnan met almost every day after that, for meals together (with a chaperone, naturally) and she felt herself actually falling in love with him. He was by no means perfect, but he had such a strong sense of right and wrong, and knew what he wanted to do with his life - though they kept their conversations about him joining the Musketeers veiled in code words and suchlike around his father. It was their own private little secret, and she loved the thrill that it brought her. For his part, d'Artagnan often bought her little things that he saw at the marketplace which reminded him of her. Never anything to fancy or expensive, but always pretty, and it always suited her.
They were only engaged for a month before the wedding. It was a small ceremony, with very few people attending, just her father and brothers, and Fleur, who had helped her fancy up her best dress and done her hair up so well that Constance hardly dared touch it for fear it would all fall out in a dreadful mess. And then where would she be? D'Artagnan would never let her forget it if that happened. On his side of the church there was only his father and his sister, and she thought it was sad that her husband didn't come with her. She'd have to ask if there was some sort of story there, or if he and d'Artagnan just didn't like each other.
And here she was getting distracted at the priest was reading out the vows and she found herself just repeating them automatically. She did mean them, she really did, but none of it felt real then at all. It was just like some sort of mad fairy-tale, and they would disappear off into the sunset afterwards.
She said goodbye to her father, was almost hugged to death by her brothers, who wished her well, and all seemed to be genuinely fond of her new husband (though that stage hadn't been reached until they had threatened to kill him at least twenty times between them) and then they were on their way to Gascony.
And since she had never learned how to ride a horse, that meant sitting in front of d'Artagnan on his as he rode. Despite how uncomfortable her first time on a horse was, she was glad of it for the excuse to lean against her new husband's chest and just listen to the rhythmic thump-thump of his heartbeat by her ear, and revel in the fact that they would be spending the rest of their life together.
She was just about to fall asleep on the horse when a thought occurred to her and she sat up with a gasp, startling the horse into bucking them off. She landed on top of d'Artagnan, who groaned underneath her.
"Good god, Constance, what was that about." She scrambled off of him, feeling embarrassed. His father just rode up to them, holding their horse's reins in one of his hands.
"You should have seen your faced in midair, gawping like fish, the both of you." He laughed at them, and d'Artagnan picked himself off the ground and offered Constance his hand, which she accepted, still blushing furiously.
"I'm sorry," she told him, "But it only really just struck me just now that from now on I'm Madame Constance d'Artagnan." She looked up to see him smiling, open and just a little bit vulnerable.
"That you are, my love." He kissed her right there and then - with his father watching, no less! But she found that she didn't mind it. He then lifted her up and helped her back onto the poor horse, which was still a little skittish from their little incident. The ride to the inn they were staying at for the night was much quieter that, since she didn't have any more sudden epiphanies, and d'Artagnan insisted that she got the bed in their room whilst he slept on the floor, and she called him ridiculous.
"We are married you know. It would hardly cause a scandal if we sleep in the same bed." He protested again, but she was firm. "You get in this bed right now, husband, or no kisses until we get to the farm." He could see in her eyes that there was no way he was winning the argument, so he stripped off his shirt and climbed into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her waist. And she wasn't going to lie, feeling his breath on the back of her neck and his arms curved around her body was a definite turn-on. They had both agreed though, sometime in the month of their engagement, that they were not going to consummate their marriage until they reached the farm in Gascony. It would feel cheap to do so in an inn, though she suspected the impatience she felt was mutual.
They spent the next week or so on the road, stopping at inns or convenient farmhouses along the way. In a way, for her, it was all a big adventure - she had never been this far out of Paris before, and seeing the vast open countryside - and hardly any people, it was all brand new to her. One new experience she could most definitely do without however, was how sore riding a bloody horse all day was. If she never got on one again it would be too soon.
"We're almost there now" d'Artagnan assured her as they passed a huge old oak tree which marked a fork in the dirt track which passed as a road. They rode along and she could see the cottage in the distance - she presumed that was the one they would be staying in for what her new father-in-law called "their time to be getting to know each other. I don't want to see you two for a week and I want you both to look thoroughly pleased with yourselves when you do appear."
They settled in, and d'Artagnan waved to his father as he left to see to the farm. Constance finally let her mind catch up with the situation, now that they had physically stopped moving. She was married, to her husband who she was in love with and they were finally alone.
"So, do we have a bedroom, husband, dearest?" she teased, and she loved the way that his eyes lit up when she called him that.
"We do indeed, my dearest wife" he replied.
It took quite a lot of effort to actually get to the bedroom, considering their lips were pressed together and their tongues were getting acquainted with each other's mouths and they managed to get a layer or two of outer clothing stripped off along the way, and when they did eventually tumble onto the bed, she felt the overwhelming need to laugh. Not at anything in particular - the whole thing was just so absurd. Her, with a husband, having sex. D'Artagnan, to his credit, didn't look one smidge embarrassed by her outburst, he just grinned, and asked her what she wanted to do first.