Chapter Text
Rochefort closed the door to his chambers with unnecessary force, only stopping to fling his cloak over a chair, before marching straight towards his bed, all but throwing himself into the cushions.
He really needed to get rid of the king or he most definitely would go insane.
The whole day his mind had taunted him with endless possibilities for sudden accidents or unforeseeable assassination attempts but in the end he knew he couldn't do it. At least not now. One day the perfect opportunity might present itself but as long as he hadn't managed to lure the queen into his arms there was no need to risk another civil war. He would bide his time, would consolidate his position at court and until then...
Growling deep in his throat he turned around, staring blindly at the canopy of his four-poster bed.
Unasked the face of the king's newest mistress appeared in his mind, causing his anger to flare up again. Seemingly it wasn't enough to run across the stupid wench in almost every single corridor of the royal residence, on the contrary. For more than two weeks now his subconscious insisted to feed him fragments and pieces of a particular memory he just couldn't get a grip on and in her own way Milady proved to be just as maddening as the King.
The fact that Milady de Winter continued presence lingered on his mind left a sour taste in his mouth. There was something he should know about Milady, something he knew but it kept slipping away.
Why the hell couldn’t he just forget her? It wasn't as if the fact that Louis had found a love interest was something he could use to his advantage. She was far from being the timid and love-sick woman she let everyone believe, Rochefort was well aware of that, but although there was this certain promise of danger lurking in her eyes Milady was just a mere distraction, nothing to waste his time on…
Of course.
Rochefort sat up abruptly. How could he have been so forgetful? He had seen Milady's name before, had found it on Richelieu's private payroll. But why had he paid her? Had she been his mistress? It was possible, but not very likely. Richelieu preferred his women blond after all.
No, there had to be another, more valuable, explanation. At least, valuable for him.
He just needed to figure out what it was.
+++
Weeks went by and once more Rochefort was forced to find an outlet for the pent up anger brewing inside his soul every time the King's presence grated on his nerves.
What would he give to kill the pompous fool and be over and done with it. But it was too soon, Rochefort was well aware of the fact that he needed to strengthen his position further and so he went out, alone, intent on indulging in his favourite pastime.
Hidden beneath a dark, heavy cloak Rochefort waited in one of the most dangerous parts of Paris until he found what he was looking for.
The man was a loud-mouthed drunk and when he staggered past his hiding-place the Comte could smell the sour odour of wine and vomit polluting the air around him.
Perfect.
Smiling coldly he grabbed his dagger and set on following his unsuspecting victim.
The hunt was on.
+++
Once again Rochefort slammed the door to his bedroom shut, throwing himself face-first onto his bed.
For a long while he just lay there, face pressed into the soft fabric of the pillows, listening to his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. The fight had been magnificent but far too short-lived to be truly satisfying and Rochefort still could feel his body thrumming with barely contained energy.
He was so hard it hurt.
Impatiently he turned on his back and wasted no time in unlacing his breeches. Almost immediately his cock sprang free and he closed his hand around the heated flesh. All he needed was a quick release to get rid of the tension and then he could return to his duties. One, two quick strokes should suffice...
With his eyes closed he tried to focus on getting himself off but all too soon he realised that it was futile. As exciting it had been to follow his latest victim – indulging himself by hunting down his prey and getting rid of the vermin single-handedly was something he did from time to time – this time his method of relaxation had failed. The thrill of the hunt, the heat and vigour of the fight should have made it easy for him to relieve himself but whatever he tried, orgasm lingered just out of reach.
Working his hand almost furiously up and down his shaft his mind involuntarily provided the image of the queen, serenely watching and he couldn't help but sigh in desperate longing.
What he wouldn't give to have Anne in his arms right now.
'Fool', he admonished himself almost immediately. Anne was pure. She was perfection, born to be worshipped through admiration and reverence, not to be tainted by something so profane like a mere spark of adrenalin fuelled lust.
The need to find his release was almost overwhelming by now and Rochefort decided that it was time to change tactics. Maybe disdain could do what love wasn't able to.
It took his mind only a short moment to settle on one particular woman. Dark hair, green eyes, a sharp and cunning mind...
Yes...
Beautiful and elegant, enticing and fascinating, the perfect forbidden fruit to sink his teeth into...
Yes...
Clawing his skin with sharp nails as she fought him every step of the way until he tore down her defences, shattering the façade of this angel-faced whore...
YES...
All of a sudden searing heat was pooling in his groin and release hit him out of nowhere. Rochefort arched his back and he came with a strangled cry, coating his hand with his semen. For a long moment he just lay there, breathing heavily in the afterglow of one of the best orgasms he ever had in his whole life. Bit by bit his breathing returned to normal and when he finally had calmed down enough to straighten his clothes he got up and made his way over to the window.
Pondering his next actions for a few seconds he decided to use the tablecloth to clean his hands, enjoying the thought of making his servants uncomfortable when they detected the mess, before he poured himself a glass of wine and returned to his bed, determined to ignore his duties for the rest of the day. He had better things to do. His latest fantasy had given him a lot to think about.
It was high time to renew his search for more information about Milady.
+++
In the end it was mere coincidence that led Rochefort to the information that he so eagerly desired.
It had been three weeks since he remembered Richelieu's payroll and he had read it over and over again, eager to find out something – anything – about the role Milady had been playing in the cardinal's plans but he found absolutely nothing and his frustration about not knowing all the details increased with every passing day.
And then he had literally stumbled over the solution to his problem. Lost in thought he had been pacing his chambers, moving from the window towards the desk and back to the window again until his foot had got caught up in the carpet. Stumbling forward he barely avoided to crash face-forward into the dark wooden panels, his hands coming up to break his fall. There had been a click and one of the panels had shifted away under from under his touch.
Who would have thought that one day Richelieu's distrustful character would turn out to be exactly what Rochefort needed? The meticulously kept notes regarding the late cardinal's employees were a godsend and the myriad of possibilities suddenly offered to him were almost overwhelming.
The cardinal's assassin. The list of her victim's went on and on and Rochefort had to admit that he felt quite impressed. A common thief Milady de Winter had obviously found a way to overcome the obstacles of her origin. That woman definitely had a strong will. It was a treat that could prove rather useful in the future.
Suddenly the world came to a stand-still.
Lost in envisioning his next moves the most important sentence almost escaped his notice. Rochefort carefully placed the small leather-clad book back on the table, only his trembling hands betraying his silent rage. Long years of experience prevented him from reacting without thinking first but it was a close call.
Richelieu had tried to kill the queen. And Milady had been the one to hire the queen's would-be executioner.
For a long moment he just sat there, taking his time to calm down enough to continue. No-one tried to harm Anne and got away with it. Not as long as he had a say in the matter. Milady would pay.
Returning to the task at hand Rochefort picked up the book again, quickly leafing through the pages, a vague idea forming in his head. When he remembered correctly Milady was married and her husband...
He closed the book. This. Was. Perfect.
Suddenly everything was so easy, all the pieces effortlessly falling into place. With a small cruel smile forming on his lips Rochefort finally returned to his desk, mind already set on planning his revenge.
+++
"What do you want?"
Rochefort smiled, patting the free space next to him on the park bench with a lazy smile on his lips.
"Milady de Winter. I'm so glad you could make it. Please, sit down."
"The king's awaiting me. Make it quick." How he longed to wipe that superior smile of her face. Victory was so near he could already taste it.
"As you wish." Letting go of all pretence Rochefort cut straight to the point. "I found your name in the late cardinal's notes. I took the liberty to prepare a list of your so called duties."
As he held the small scroll he had prepared out for he watched her eyes narrow in wary suspicion and Rochefort couldn't conceal his glee any longer. He had her, had seen the sudden fear flashing over her face before her expression turned blank. The flawless change was rather impressive, he had to admit, but it was futile. She already had given the truth away.
"The King pardoned me."
"Be that as it may I'm sure he will reconsider his decision as soon as he learns about just how depraved you really are."
Scroll crumbling in her hand Milady met his gaze with defiance. "What do you want?"
"It's quite simple. I'm in need of your special talents."
"No."
"You should hear me out." Rochefort allowed himself a small smile, silently hoping for her continued refusal, relishing the thought of being challenged.
Please let me show you how well I play this game...
"I left this life behind. I'm not that kind of person anymore." So sure, so confident. But the cool and composed façade was just begging to be cracked open.
The Comte's smile widened even further. "Is that so? Then you won't mind when I tell the king about your alliance with Richelieu?"
"He will understand."
Rochefort nodded solemnly. "I'm sure he will. He won't even mind hearing about your involvement in the failed assassination attempt on the queen. He loves her, you know."
Swallowing hard Milady had turned a rather unpleasant shade of grey.
"This is neither the right place nor the right time to discuss my wishes." Rochefort stood up and took a slow step in the woman's direction, satisfied to see her taking an involuntary step back. "I will need your services soon. You'll do well to come when I call for you."
Superior smile firmly in place Rochefort strolled past his prey. It was time to set the second part of his plan into motion.