A/N: I know I should be working on my other stories but I just haven't had any inspiration recently for them and this idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while now. This is my first time delving into the Musketeers universe. I absolutely adore the show on BBC and I was really sad when it ended. I've probably watched it about 10 times all the way through (probably more if I'm being honest with myself) and I am in love if D'Artagnan's character. I simply love him and Constance together as well, I think they are the cutest couple ever and they make me so happy.

Anyway….I apologize if I'm off on the characters in this at all, like I said I've seen the show quite a few times but I have never written anything for it before so I'm still learning. I also did a lot of guessing in regards to how long it would take to get certain places on horseback seeing as there isn't really a google travel option for that (I tried, trust me). I also apologize for historical inaccuracies I'm just trying to have some fun with this and while I did try to research as much as possible I may have been off in a few spots so forgive me.

Please, please, please let me know what you think of the story! I'm anxious to find out if it's any good!

DISCLAIMER: I (unfortunately) do not own the Musketeers in any way. If I did, Constance and D'Artagnan would have been together a lot sooner and there would not have been a Monsieur Bonacieux.

Paris dawned cloudy and wet. It wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence, especially not in the fall, but it was still disheartening to D'Artagnan. He was a sunshine child and preferred a hot summer's day over the cool fall rain given the choice. So it was with a sigh and exaggerated slowness he prepared for a day of very wet, very uncomfortable training. Even after almost two years as a fully commissioned Musketeer he still hated the idea of training in the rain. Being wet was probably one of his least favorite things. Aramis often compared him to a cat on rainy days, the way he would slink around the edges of the main courtyard in garrison to avoid the rain as long as possible. And then after his training he was quick to shake off as much water as he could before shedding his wet clothes for dry ones. He was also much less likely to venture to the tavern on nights when it rained.

While part of his aversion to the rain was because he did not like being wet a larger part was because of the memories the rain tended to stir up. His father died in the rain, choking and bleeding out on a muddy road in front of an inn while D'Artagnan held him. The memories hurt, no matter how much time passed. His friends were understanding of course and tended to keep a closer eye on him when it rained and were practically attached to him when it stormed. He appreciated the gesture of course but there were times he simply wished to be left alone and allowed to wallow a bit. While the desire to be left alone dissipated over time he still found solace in the quiet moments before one of his friends tracked him down on rainy days.

A loud knock at his door made him smirk slightly, right on time.

"It's open," he called, lacing the rest of his shirt before grabbing his doublet off his bed.

His door opened and Porthos' large frame filled the entire opening, the man was grinning widely and had his hands looped over his weapons' belt, "Mornin' pup!"

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes with a small smile, "You would think I'd have outgrown that nickname by now. I did manage to defend the King all on my own twice now, and both times I was restrained in some way."

Porthos' grin grew impossibly wider and ruffled the Gascon's hair, "You'll never outgrow it, pup."

D'Artagnan huffed in mock annoyance as he fixed his hair, leading the way out of his quarters. His rooms were just off the main courtyard but unfortunately, the kitchens were not on the same side. D'Artagnan was content to skirt the edge of the courtyard and stay dry but Porthos, apparently starving as usual, grabbed his arm and dragged him rather unceremoniously through the downpour to the other side. D'Artagnan spluttered and tried to shake off as much of the rainwater as he could when they reached the overhang just outside the kitchens, shooting Porthos an annoyed look, "You realize we could have avoided the rain, correct?"

Porthos laughed, "But then I would 'ave missed your drowned rat impression."

D'Artagnan shook his head, purposefully flinging water in his friend's direction.

"D'Artagnan, Porthos! You realize you can avoid the rain, yes?" Aramis' voice was amused as he approached them, perfectly dry and looking a little too smug about it in D'Artagnan's opinion.

"Porthos decided we needed a morning shower," D'Artagnan said, looping his hands through his weapons' belt and eyeing his larger friend warily, "My protests were not taken into consideration."

Porthos bumped his shoulder with D'Artagnan's, "Aw it's not that bad! You're barely even wet."

Porthos was spared a scathing retort as Captain Treville approached them, Athos in tow behind him, "Gentlemen, I have an assignment for you. Come to my office."

Porthos groaned and looked longingly into the kitchens, "Always when I'm about to eat."

D'Artagnan snickered and Aramis quirked an amused grin as they all followed their Captain and Lieutenant up the stairs and into Treville's office.

Treville waited until the door was shut firmly behind them before speaking, "You four are to meet with a messenger from the King's cousin, Princess Eleonora of Mantua. They will meet you in Nice in three days' time to deliver a confidential correspondence for the King. No one outside of this room besides the King knows of this mission and you must not let the missive fall into the wrong hands. I will expect you back here in a week. If you have not returned by then a search party will be sent to look for you. You are to leave immediately. Dismissed."

It was probably one of their briefest mission assignments ever and while D'Artagnan had questions he also knew he wouldn't receive any answers. Confidential missions always left the most questions unanswered and while it tended to drive him a little mad he was getting better at accepting it. Most of the time.

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Twenty minutes later D'Artagnan found himself on the back of his horse riding in the rain through the congested streets of Paris. His cloak helped keep him somewhat dry but he found himself wishing, not for the first time, for a hat. All three of his companions wore hats upon their heads and while they were still damp their faces were at least free of the rivulets of water he was constantly having to wipe away. He always vowed he would buy a hat on days like this but then he would inevitably need new shoes or new shirts and before he knew it he had no money for a hat. So he simply settled for dealing with the rain and hoping it didn't last the entire mission.

Less than half an hour later the four Inseparables rode through the gates of Paris, leaving behind congested city streets for the open land beyond. They were quick to pick up their pace. While it would not take them a full three days to reach Nice they did not wish to dally either. Besides, if they moved fast enough they could spend a day or so in Nice relaxing and sleeping in real beds with decent food before making the return journey which would likely prove more arduous. While the Captain did not expressly state they should avoid villages on their trip back D'Artagnan knew they would unless the weather turned on them. There were less risks camping out for a night or two while one of them kept watch instead of venturing into town and drawing unwanted attention.

They kept to a steady trot for most of the morning, slowing occasionally to keep the horses from tiring, and the conversation was minimal. Around midday they stopped near a small stream for lunch and to let the horses rest. Thankfully, the rain let up shortly after they left Paris and while D'Artagnan still felt damp he was no longer soaking. The day was rather nice by this point, the sun shining brightly and the clouds all behind them. The air was warm but not uncomfortably so and there was a cool breeze. D'Artagnan hung his doublet over a branch in the sun while they ate, hoping the last remnants of moisture would be gone by the time they started riding again. The others all set their hats in patches of sunlight as well and unlaced their doublets but did not hang them to dry as their youngest did.

Lunch consisted of salted meat, bread and apples Aramis managed to pluck from a tree earlier in their journey. They were quiet as they ate, all of them rather hungry after missing breakfast that morning, and D'Artagnan was enjoying the peace of the moment. It was rare they were able to simply eat and relax like this. Even though they were on a mission it was a nice day, they were in no real hurry, and so far no one had attacked them.

"What do ya think the missive is about?" Porthos asked a little while later as they were beginning to collect their things and start riding again.

Athos shrugged, "I have no idea but it must be important to warrant this level of secrecy."

"Perhaps there are troubles in Mantua we have yet to hear about?" Aramis suggested and he filled his water skin in the stream and splashed his face.

"Perhaps," Athos said noncommittally, not seeming all that concerned.

"It seems strange the King would send so many Musketeers to retrieve a single missive. He must expect some sort of trouble," D'Artagnan commented, his curiosity reigniting with the conversation.

Porthos made a noise of agreement, "Very strange."

"If we are lucky the King will feel like indulging us on our return and tell us what the fuss is all about," Athos sounded like he didn't believe the words even as he said them and the rest of them shared his feelings. The King was not one to overshare, especially not as of late. The Musketeers weren't exactly his favorites at the moment no matter how loyal they remained. With Rochefort whispering in the King's ear there wasn't much they could do expect continue to follow orders and hope Louis realized what was happening.

They all mounted shortly after that and began their journey once more. They did not travel as quickly now though, content to take their time and let their lunches settle before picking their pace up once more.

"Things seem to be goin' well for you and Constance, aye pup? If all that kissin' says anythin'" Porthos winked, throwing D'Artagnan a teasing grin.

D'Artagnan felt his face heat up as he tried to shrug off the teasing, "Things are well, yes. Constance plans to tell her husband she does not want to be with him anymore."

"Truly? That's wonderful, my friend!" Aramis was quick to jump into the conversation, a wide grin on his face, "You both deserve happiness!"

"I just hope Monsieur Bonacieux does not cause her too much trouble. After the Milady incident he told her he would kill himself if she ever tried to leave him," D'Artagnan's face turned dark at the memory. Just as he and Constance were about to attempt to have a relationship over a year ago her husband injured himself to make her stay. It made him angry, just remembering that night. He was heartbroken for some time after that, unsure how to be happy if he could not have Constance.

It was Athos who spoke up this time, "A man like that would not go through with it. He does not have the courage. Constance is stronger now, after time away from him, and will not give in to him again. I believe convincing the Queen to appoint her as her confidante was the best thing you could have done for her."

D'Artagnan was inordinately pleased with his mentor's praise for the woman he loved, unable to contain the large grin spreading over his face.

"Ah, true love," Aramis sighed whimsically, "There is nothing like it I imagine."

"You find more love than anyone I know," Porthos jeered.

"But true love has a certain beauty to it you cannot simply find," Aramis' tone was mockingly stern, "While the ladies I choose to spend my nights with are beautiful they cannot rival the way a woman looks when in love."

Porthos laughed and shook his head at his friend, "Always the romantic."

Aramis grinned, "Always. What else are these dashing good looks for if not to enjoy the whirlwind of romance?"

D'Artagnan laughed with Porthos now and not even Athos couldn't keep his mouth from twitching into a small smile. The four of them continued to banter for some time, the conversation and jokes easy among them. They were not called the Inseparables for nothing after all, it was rare they did not pass missions with friendly banter and conversation.

Soon though Athos was resuming their earlier pace and talking over their horses' hooves became difficult.

They traveled until nightfall before deciding to stop at the next inn they came across, all of them ready for a warm dinner, wine and beds. D'Artagnan was finding himself growing more and more weary as they rode, feeling his semi-restless night catching up to him. Another downfall of rain: he never slept well. He was more than ready for sleep by the time the next group of lights came into view.

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The inn they found was not overly large but it had a fire and food and two rooms available for them. They ate together in the common room near the fire. The bread was fresh and the stew rivaled Serge's and even the wine was better than they could have expected so far outside of Paris. By the time they finished dinner they were all content and warm and a little bit hazy. Even Athos seemed more relaxed than usual as he sat back in his chair, head resting on the wall and his hat sitting near the fire.

The innkeepers were kindly folk and were more than happy four of the King's Musketeers for the night, even offering them baths should they feel the need to clean some of the road dirt from their skin. While the idea of a bath was tantalizing D'Artagnan also knew it would be somewhat pointless until they were back in Paris. They still had plenty of riding left ahead of them and he was sure to be filthy again in no time. He did, however, accept a basin of warm water to clean his face and arms.

The rooms they stayed in were not overly large, the beds in both so close together only one person could stand between them at a time, but they were warm and they had their own beds which was not something they were always able to enjoy when traveling. D'Artagnan and Athos shared one room while Porthos and Aramis shared the other. They agreed to head out at daybreak the next morning and if they kept up their current pace they would arrive in Nice by the next night. They would have a day to recoup in Nice before the Princess' messenger arrived and they needed to ride back to Paris. If everything went according to plan they would be back in Paris within four days, two days earlier than Treville's deadline.

D'Artagnan was happy to sink into his bed that night, his body and mind tired after a day on horseback with little sleep. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.