The Musketeers were escorting the King's cart to a house near the lake. The owners of the small castle had half of their family in court and were throwing a party to celebrate the newly made engagement between their daughter and another man of significance's son of the King's consol. It was promising to be a grand celebration, in every luxury the nobles might offer: fruits out of season, every coloured flowers, scandalous musicians and good wine. Of course none of that interested the Musketeers, except maybe the wine. They were there to insure the King's safety as per usual and had little interest in the festivities. It was a beautiful day to enjoy the country and it seemed even lovelier to Aramis when the sun's ray were shinning through Queen Anne's beautiful hair and warming the almost bald head of her baby boy. He smiled at her at every chance he had to meet her gaze. Their eyes would lock for a second, before she'd quickly look elsewhere. Quite the opposite was happening when Constance's and D'Artagnan's eyes met: they would lock their gaze for as long as they possibly could laughing and smiling. Needless to say, the mood was for love. All the lovers were parading their affection like it was a contest for the fools and like their lives depended on it for the honest. The inn was beautifully decorated and the Musketeers escorted the happy royal family to their rooms traversing silk and flowered garnished furniture and went to set their own – much more modest – camp outside.

''I love a good wedding'' said Aramis, inhalating deeply and checking out two young giggling girls passing by.

''This is only in preparation of it, imagine the actual reception'' said Porthos.

''How nice must it be to have so much money to waste'' added D'Artagnan.

''I wonder how it feels, tell us Athos'' mocked Aramis. Athos smirked and forgave his friends' indiscretion as they were only trying to be funny and as it was pretty hard to get mad in such atmosphere. Later on the evening, guests arrived under the vigil observation of the Musketeers. A carriage came along, and the family Renard Davalle was announced. They were the owners of a municipality in Monaco which had just past from the Italian domination to the French one. The master of the Renard Davalle had had a big part in the negotiation and had now a privileged place at the French court and Monaco. They were told to be richer than both countries put together. When their servants started to unpack the gifts that were filling an entire carriage to themselves, the Musketeers started to believe that the rumors might be slightly true. Jean de Renard Davalle was a busy man and thankfully he had many children he could just send away to pay visits and all the social duties he despised. Two handsome men got out of the second carriage followed by a young woman dressed in the finest of drapes. They greeted the future groom with a lot of warmth and seemed even more content to meet his wife to be. The first to notice that something was off was D'Artagnan, he hit Aramis slightly to his side to get his attention. Eventually all the men understood why the lady looked so familiar. Her hair was lighter and she was much finer dressed that the usual, but they all still recognised Mademoiselle de Senneville. Athos regretted his thought of earlier; he could get mad even in such a lovely environment. The woman was unforgivable, how could she cheat even the noblest of men? As soon as they had an occasion to separate her from her so called brothers, Athos charged, closely followed by Aramis who was scared of what he could do. Athos grabbed her to get her away from indiscrete eyes, and pushed against a tree, hiding in its bush.

'What do you think you are doing?' he asked the not so surprised lady.

'I could ask you the same question' she answered in a sense of provocation.

'Where is the actual lady De Renard Davalle? What have you done with her?' he persisted.

The lady stopped for a moment before bursting into laughter. Athos had no patience for her flirting and stopped her by pressing his hard fingers in her forearm. 'You think I'm an imposture?' she said 'Quite frankly, I can't blame you.' She continued for herself without trying to get away from Athos' grip.

'You have given us every reason to believe so' said Aramis calmly, not willing to condemn his friend so easily.

'You are right, but use your brains. I can trick anyone I just met into believe I am anything I would like, but this is my family. I came here with my own brothers, how can you doubt them?'

'They might be a part of your forgery. It wouldn't surprise me' said Athos.

'Maybe, but it would definitely surprise the King or Richelieu – god have his soul - since they have known them for many years now.' She said, starting to feel her hand go numb. 'And the groom to be knows us, he's my cousin. He has also known us for years. No matter how much you would like to find something to incriminate me, it definitely won't be here' she said looking deep into Athos' eyes.

At that moment, three girls interrupted their exchanges and looked with wide eyes Athos' hold on their lady.

'Mademoiselle de Renard, what is this...Guards!' one started to scream before being stopped by Aramis.

'We are the guards, dear. Aramis of the King's Musketeers' he added bowing and kissing her hand. She still didn't seem quite convinced.

'These men were just telling me about this new dangerous poison' jumped in the lady. 'It works underneath your clothing actually and they were just making sure that I was free of it. Please, guards, do the same for my friends'.

Aramis and Athos looked at each other perplexed before starting to feel lightly the girls' bodies.

'How terrible! Thank god, you are here to look over us Abbygaëlle' said a blond haired one.

'As always, my dearest' she said in her sweetest voice. 'Go on, I will be right there' she encouraged the ladies to leave. 'Is that enough proof to you? I am spotless Athos, stop looking for trouble. And you owe me. Technically, I could have put the young victim act and call you an harasser. ' She started leaving to join her escort who were anxiously eyeing her. ' And I let you touch my obviously very smart lady friends, I bet you enjoyed it, you sick perverts.' She said her last sentence laughing and met her friends, placing her arms over their shoulders. She was in a fabulous mood : she was with her brother, there was good food, wine and company in this place. What else could she wish for?

The next morning, King Louis declared that he wanted to go for a hunt. The woods around the castle were practically virgin and he got very excited at the idea of a fresh kill. He invited all the company of men and they were to leave after breakfast. Abbygaëlle, or as we know her, mademoiselle de Senneville was the most of upset about this news. The King was stealing away some of the precious and rare moments she could spend with her brothers.

'Don't be like that Abby, when the King wants something, you can't just refuse' said her older brother Thomas.

'I know' she said ' But I'm still jealous'.

'We have already discussed this, no matter how good of a shot you are, you can't come hunt with us' answered her other brother Lucas.

'I bear very little interest in killing wild animals, I'm jealous because the King will be with you and I won't!'

'I know we are particularly good company, but you have to share!' said Thomas. Her sister hit him on the shoulder for being so cocky and he grabbed her from the ground and tickled her. She laughed and screamed and tried to push her way out.

'How childish of both of you' sighed Lucas.

'Oh, come on. You are moody only because you are anxious about your shooting' said Abby trying to get a smile out of him while poking his full cheeks.

'No, I am not. I'm the best shot out of all of us.' He replied, pushing her fingers away.

'Please little brother, don't embarrass yourself. I'm obviously the best.'

'Come on now boys, I can beat you both. We can put your scores together and I would still beat you guys' the girl said.

'Well, this calls for a competition!'

They ran to get their servants and pistols. Abby was exhilarated. It was just like good old times, when they competed to see who could jump the highest, run the quickest or last the longest underwater. For most times she would lose, but today she won. All of her shots were made in brilliant precision and she had Beaulieux to thank for. But she wouldn't mention that to her brothers obviously. When Porthos and Aramis came to get the men for their hunt, Abby had to fight an urge to jump at her brothers' neck to stop them from going. Thomas kissed her on the top of her head and they left. The two brothers helped each other on their horses and Aramis and Porthos talked and joked while waiting. She noticed something grandly familiar between the two pairs, that same sense of brotherhood, of friendship and even of family. She had just realised why she liked the Musketeers so much and why she had that irrational need to be accepted by them: they reminded her of her family. They reminded her of the only people she felt truly comfortable with and by whom she was really loved: her brothers. She had lost them long before and all she seemed to have done since, was to find that same sense of acceptance she felt amongst them. Her self-diagnostic made her noxious a little before she realised Aramis had his hat raised towards her for several seconds now. A worried frown was starting to take place on his face as she kept not reacting. Embarrassed, she bowed her head quickly losing some of the grace she usually had in those moments and stormed off. Where was her escort of stupid yet useful girls when she needed them?