Athos POV

It wasn't hard to see that a storm was coming, bad enough that the chill wind bit through our cloaks and reddened our faces as we rode through the thick air trying to reach Paris before the heavens opened up over us, pelting us with something guaranteed to be more difficult to traverse than mere snow flakes. We were traversing the region of Burgundy, a province of our beloved France, and our king, returning from a journey to deliver the King's Papers, a task entrusted to us, and not the Red Guard, likely because they were too soft to have accomplished such a thing in the depths of winter; whereas we were eager (well perhaps not too eager) to volunteer. The Garrison was warm(ish) and secure from the weather, but offered little distraction beyond the training of soldiering. And the surrounding taverns offered only alcohol, and forbidden conflict, such as intoxication often brings, but none of us were too eager to escape our memories in drink. A hard ride and the purpose of a mission were just what we all needed to take our minds off of the losses of the previous months. And I will say no more about those things.

It should have been a simple task, ride out, ride back, enjoy the lodgings at the court of Burgundy for an evening, perhaps some of their famous coq-au-vin, and a touch of the vin on its own, a different locale could do wonders for the soul. Of course, nothing is simple, not when it comes to the Musketeers.

Our horses' hooves thundered against the earth, echoing off the low clouds as the sun (which couldn't actually be seen) set, turning grey skies to black. I expected no other noises but our own, especially with the threatening weather. But I was wrong. A gunshot rang out in front of us, and the screams of a horse and rider. We spurred our mounts on towards the fray and came upon a sight that sadly was not new to us. One rider, surrounded by four others, encircled beyond escape as the brigands closed the circle, guns drawn.

"Ho there!" I called out, five faces turning towards us, meeting our grins and our own outstretched firearms.

"Please help me!" The middle rider called, the feminine voice was unexpected, but served to strengthen our resolve.

"Ride on!" The one who must have been the ringleader called back to me. "This is none of your concern."

"Any men who would menace a lone woman are most certainly our concern!" I replied, perhaps not so calmly.

Guns were pointed at us and fired, but we were already charging forward, the brigands scattered and we pursued them. To my surprise, and perhaps my brothers' the men were trained in their weapons, and once their firearms were expended they dismounted, swords drawn. We were forced to do likewise. The sound of blade on blade rang out through the forest. The ground was slick with the snow that had fallen previously, and the cold dulled precise grips on our blades, but we fought on. One was dispatched, then a second, and a third. Searching for the forth as the twilight overtook us we found him, astride the lady's horse, clasping her about the waist, her hood fallen away from her head, a blade at her throat.

"Back away!" He called to us, "She is mine!"

We all stopped, but did not lower our blades.

"Seems to me," Porthos began, "There are four of us, and only one of you."

"But I have the prize." He replied.

I looked at the woman, her eyes were fixed forward, and her lips pursed together, knees tight to the flanks of her horse, one hand grasping the reigns, stock still, except for a flutter of her cloak, so slight that few might have noticed it.

"Turn the horse and we will ride woman!" Even with the order barked in her ear she did not flinch, only moved her left hand to guide the horse a little sideways, perhaps to mask her movements. His next utterance though, was not an order, it was a yelp, and we watched him crumple from the mount a shinny blade protruding from under his ribs.

"Sacre Coeur." That was Aramis. "Well done Madam."

I approached slowly, assured he was dead, removed the blade, wiping it clean on his cloak, and handed it back to the rider.

"Madam." She slid from her horse, lighting on the ground quietly.

"Thank you so much gentlemen for your help, I fear that without your arrival I would most surely have been a captive right now."

It was at that point that d'Artagnan crumpled to the ground.

The bite of the cold was as harsh as that of a sword it seemed, and d'Artangnan had not even realized that he had suffered the wound, quickly attended by us all it was clear to that though the cold would slow the bleeding, that he needed proper attention and warmth, such as could not be given in the twilight. Our newest group member produced bandages from her saddlebags and quickly bound d'Artagnan's side.

"We must ride on for home!" I commanded, looking around for the horses, but I could see only three of our previous five. My horse was easily the strongest of the clutch and so I handed the reigns to Porthos, the strongest man among us.

"You will take d'Artangnan and ride for Paris, outrun the storm, or find proper shelter before then. Aramis, you will ride as their guard." I took up the weakened body of my friend as Porthos set himself in the saddle, and handed d'Artagnan up into strong arms.

"But what about you Athos?" Aramis was about to argue with me. I wish I could say that I silenced his outburst with a look, but in truth it was she who stopped him.

"I will stay with him, if he cannot find your missing horses we will have my mount to follow you." Her voice was quiet but determined in its tone. It seemed a reasonable plan.

"As Madam says."

"Mademoiselle." She corrected me, also quietly.

"Go, please, d'Artagnan needs to be out of the cold."

"I'm coming back for you as soon as we get him tended to." Porthos told me, I agreed and my companions rode off, leaving me with Mademoiselle on the road, one horse between us, and darkness making the shadows grow long, the thickened clouds boding quite ill for the weather.

The other horses proved much more difficult to locate, and after calling about for a few minutes I realized that I was wasting what little light and hospitable weather was left. I helped Mme'selle back up into the saddle and swung myself in behind her wrapping my arms around her sides to grasp the reigns. The extra weight did not make for rapid progress, but we set out in the direction of Paris, and my companions. Darkness enveloped us long before the lights of any structures showed themselves. It became quite obvious that we needed some type of shelter as a cold rain began to pound down from the sky, as if God himself had tipped over a bucket. We were sodden in minutes the cold air beginning to freeze the moisture against our skin, and I urged the horse off the track we had been following into a denser section of the forest, hoping that whatever canopy left over from the fall might shelter us somewhat.

It brought us a little time, but Mme'selle was beginning to shiver against me, and I admit to feeling that same cold seeping into my bones. I tried to pull my cloak around her, for what little waterproofing it offered. She extended her hand beyond it and I followed towards where she was pointing. It was overgrown, but it was a hut of some sort, with a small lean-too stable right alongside it that offered at least three solid-looking walls for the horse, we turned to it. It took only a few moments to relieve the beast of her saddlebags, and saddle, which I stored within the building, and only a few more to ensure that she was safe from the rain by way of some old bales of straw and bundles of branches. She seemed to have no desire to venture out again, but I did loop her bridle around a convenient post in the absence of a gate to keep her in. We could not do with losing another horse.

Luck seemed to be with us though, as the hut was rather sturdy for something that had been abandoned for quite awhile it seemed. There was nothing by the way of blankets, but there was a solid looking fireplace, and a small stack of wood, (with some decrepit furniture as well should the wood run out). I laid my cloak down in front of the hearth and worked to build a fire to warm and dry us both off as the now freezing rain pounded against the roof, small droplets raising clouds of dust on the floor as they seeped through the rushes and beams; until it turned to mud that was. At least the wood had stayed dry and it took to flame quickly. I was not keen to attract attention to our location; I had no idea if there were other highwaymen looking for shelter in the forest, but I had little choice, we needed the warmth. I kept my sword within reach.

As I fed the flames as sparingly as I could manage, not wanting to commit all our fuel too quickly, Mme'selle stripped off her cloak laying it over a fragmented chair and began to unpack her saddlebags.

"I haven't much, but I hope you will share it with me good sir."

"Athos. My name is Athos."

"I am called Gwyneth, and I am most happy to make your acquaintance Seigneur Athos."

"I have no need of titles Mme'selle, just Athos." I replied quietly, not wanting to offend her, but not wanting any reminders of another life.

"I must offer you my thanks Athos for all the help you have given me this day, you and your friends. I hope the cost has not been too severe."

"d'Artagnan? The wound was not terribly grievous I think, and the cold will certainly slow any serious complications; but him having been caught in this frozen rain, that would certainly not have done him well."

"I shall pray for him none the less. And we shall share this small meal together I hope, and sustain ourselves so that we might rejoin your friends on the morrow." She held out a loaf of dark bread towards me.

"We shall Gwyneth." I took the loaf from her and broke it in half, returning the larger half to her. A linen wrapped package was unfolded next, with a block of cheese exposed. My knife, having not just stabbed a man, was used to section it to share with the bread. The small fire made the room warmer, and the scant light made it feel close and safe. My bones were finally beginning to thaw as my clothing dried. I watched her carefully break off chunks of the bread, taking it to her mouth, all in silence. She did not seem frightened of me or of the silence between us, but for myself, I preferred a conversation just then, to keep my mind from wandering.

"If I might ask, Gwyneth, how do you find yourself travelling alone on such an inhospitable night?"

"I was forced to set out without much preparation, and I had hoped to reach Paris in only a few days."

"And from whence did you travel?"

"From the Languedoc Region."

"Quite a ride for a lone traveller."

"There was no one to ride with me I am afraid." Her lips pursed together and she let her hands fall into her lap. It seemed obvious that I was getting to the heart of the matter that had put her on our path.

"But you are not completely unprepared it seems?"

"My Father and my Brothers insisted that I learn to defend myself. I am glad for those lessons now."

"And why did one of them not ride with you?"

"Because they are dead."

I had not expected quite that answer; I thought perhaps she was trying to escape a forced marriage or a life of servitude. Instantly regretting my inquiry I offered an apology.

"I am sorry."

"You did not kill them, you should not be sorry." Her answer was hard, I suspect that she had spent much of her ride steeling her heart against the misery it must have been feeling.

"Never the less, I can be sorry that you were left alone in this world."

She smiled, though she could not look at me.

"You are a kind man Athos." She took another bite of the bread and chewed slowly.

"Is that why you fled, because of what happened to your family?"

"I had hoped to lose myself in Paris. You live there Athos. Is it possible, to blend, to hide oneself amongst the masses?" Her hands twisted in her skirts.

"Hide from the men who pursued you?"

"And those who sent them against my family."

"Paris is certainly a place where you may hide. But must you? I am one of the King's Musketeers, we could offer you protection?"

"I do not even know the faces of the men who would hunt me, and I could not put you or your friends at further risk defending me from ghosts. I would be a prisoner, and I would choose death over a cage."

"I don't understand why anyone would wish to harm you. What could a gentle soul such as yourself have done to deserve such a punishment?" All I knew of her was how she had been attacked, and how she had come to d'Artagnan's aide without any hesitancy.

She finally looked up at me; she had the most beautiful green eyes, so pale as to be haunting. Tears glazed them over with a sheen that caught the firelight, making her seem all the more miserable.

"A familial sin it seems." Her voice was wavering, her practiced control falling apart.

"Again, you have my sympathy. And whatever help you will have from me."

"So kind, and gracious." She whispered.

She had fallen into an uneasy sleep in front of the fire, wrapped in her now dry cloak. I watched her toss about, and her eyes flit back and forth beneath closed lids. I tried to keep the fire burning so that at least she would be warm if not peaceful. I had to wonder what terrible things she had seen to cause such disturbances to her mind that even sleep could not banish them. Outside the hut the rain had continued to fall, battering the sides of the structure and the surrounding forest. The sound of crackling outside had started some time around midnight, a most eerie sound that filled me with dread. The first horrendous 'snap' startled us both, waking Gwyneth from sleep; it was followed in quick succession by several other cracks and subsequent crashes. Those green eyes were now wide as they stared at me.

"What is that?"

I had to admit that I was not entirely certain.

"It sounds as if God himself is snapping the bones of giants outside." I moved closer to where she had sat up.

"I believe that those are trees breaking."

"But why would trees break?"

"I think they are frozen and the wind is strong enough to snap them."

My assessment had turned out to be correct, though I did not know for certain till the following morning when I could see for myself the tangle of limbs lying on the ground. Indeed, as she had said, it looked as if God or some giant had broken them as easily as a man might break twigs for kindling.

With every new noise that night though, her small body shook, and so I took the chance and wrapped my arms about her, hoping that she would not mind the intimacy. I pulled my cloak over us both and felt her rest her head against my shoulder, trembling.

"I promise that we are safe here, there were no large trees over this home, the land was cleared, even if they snap all around us nothing will harm this roof or the walls."

I felt her head nod against me, but I also felt the moisture of her tears against my skin. She continued to tremble.

"Are you cold."

"No Athos."

"Do I frighten you then Mme'selle?"

"You are a noble man are you not Athos?"

"I am Mme'selle."

"Therefore I will not fear you."

"Then what do you fear?"

"I fear not seeing the morning."

I clutched her tighter to my chest and felt her finally relax against me, the shaking slowing until it finally halted. I whispered to her.

"I promise you that we will both see the morning." And then, for reasons yet unknown to me, I pressed a small kiss against her head. She did not pull away from me, but instead threaded her smaller hand into mine and held it tightly as she let her breathing slow. Neither of us slept for very long, though we stayed wrapped together till the fire was barely embers, and only then did I let her rest carefully against my cloak, not the dirt floor, as I added a little more wood and went to the entryway to see what the barely risen sun would show me of the day.

It was a wonder.

It was if the entire world had been dipped in ice, every surface, tree, building, bush, blade of dead grass was crystalized. The risen sun sparkled off of every facet, it seemed as if I had stepped into a fairy world. The delicate crackling of tiny branches snapping off to fall to the ground, only to meet more ice, was musical. The fog of my breath only added to the ethereal vision. I would not have been at all surprised to see a unicorn prance by or an angel land in front of me; but perhaps it was best that they didn't. I tested the ground just beyond the overhang of the doorway, it was as slick as a frozen pond.

"Athos?" The voice from within the dwelling was small and frightened sounding. I turned back to see her rising from her place by the fire.

"I'm here, you must come and see this Gwyneth, it is amazing." I held out my hand to her.

Her skin was warm, and her hand felt so solid in mine. I could not help but smile at her, just the sight of the natural wonder around us had filled me with a reverence that I could not immediately explain. Those beautiful green eyes took in the crystalline world, sparkling as brightly as the trees. The smile that grew on her face was dazzling.

"I told you that we would live to see morning Gwyneth."

"Oh Athos, it is incredible."

"Isn't it?"

"Even the broken branches upon the ground look like the Queen's jewels must." She stepped forward onto the sheet of ice and slipped forward. With my one hand still in hers, I threw my other arm around her waist and pulled her back towards me, arresting her fall to the ground, and precipitating one into my chest. She allowed me to hold her weight there as she caught her breath; though it went from a deep indrawn one as she felt her feet going out from under her, to far shorter, more rapid ones. I felt her drop my grip and wrap her arms over my back, holding herself to me. She looked up into my face.

"Is it not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen Athos?"

"Not even by half." I murmured back to her, unable to take my eyes off her smile and innocent gaze. I felt my own breaths to be suddenly matching hers in their stuttered escape from my throat.

"Athos?" The entreaty was quiet, her lips remaining parted after she had spoken, her grip on my back suddenly lax, though her nearness to me seemed intensified. I leaned my face down and pressed my mouth to hers firmly. Her hand looped around my neck and held me there.

Her mouth was soft and willing as she matched the force I put upon her, allowing me to part those beautiful lips and venture within to meet and dance with her tongue, a delicate moan adding to the music of nature. Her body was just as pliant as I pulled her backwards into the shelter, kissing her hard as I turned her about and laid her down upon my cloak, still spread out before the small fire. Untying her cloak from around her neck I pressed my mouth to the bare skin there, fingers working at loosening the bodice of her dress even as she arched her body towards my hunger.

"Athos." She gasped out on a breath. "Show me what I should do."

It was as if I had been hit by one of those falling branches, I realized what I was doing and I pulled away from her.

"Gwyneth?" Every part of my body was protesting the separation I had put between us. "You are?" I couldn't even say the word.

"Athos?" She sat up, pain and confusion in her face. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, no Mme'selle, it is I who have done something wrong. I profess to have honor and yet," I could not finish the sentence. I had only just met this woman, spent one night holding her in my arms against the storm, and I had transferred my loneliness onto her, and nearly, oh God, nearly.

"But Athos? You have done nothing wrong, I want this, I want you." The pleading nearly broke my already fragile heart.

"Please, don't misunderstand Mme'selle."

"Will you not even call me by my name any longer Athos?" She reached out to touch my hand, I could not pull it away from her.

"Gwyneth. How could I do this to you? Here, on the hard ground, barely a fire to keep you warm, nothing soft to wrap you in. You should be treated as a lady, nothing less." She stilled my words by pressing her lips to mine in a simple kiss. I could feel the tears on my face and I wondered if some were not my own.

"I do want you Gwyneth. God forgive me, I want you so badly. But I will not dishonor you like this." And in complete discord to what I had just said I pulled her into my arms and showered her face with kisses, brushing away the tears with my thumbs, tangling my fingers through her hair, holding her to me far closer than I should have until my pounding heart finally slowed.

"You are a noble man Athos, let no one tell you otherwise. But I am no lady, far from it. I was raised with four brothers, by a blacksmith father, in a town with a single well in the town square. I grew up learning to care for us and our home and believed that I would do so until the day I died."

"Then what happened Gwyneth?"

"My father had a secret; the burden of which he could not carry."

"Please tell me."

"Perhaps it would be better to show you."

She reached into the folds of her skirt and pulled out a coin, holding it out to me.

"Do you know what this is?" She asked.

I had heard tell of such things but had never seen one, nor had I ever thought I would. The stories were told more as myth than history, yet here was the proof that there had in fact been some truth, if not complete truth to the tales I had heard in my childhood.

"Cathar gold?"

"You know the stories then?"

"That the dualists were rooted out and destroyed, but that their reputed hoards of treasures were never discovered, much to the chagrin of the Monarchy and the Catholic Church."

"Much of it was moved overseas prior to the crusade against the Cathar people, those pieces that held special meaning, symbols, icons. But those things that could be converted, currencies, gems, such things were left behind in caches, locations known only to select prefects, knowledge passed down within families, awaiting safety. My family was one such family, my father the keeper."

I was stunned to hear such revelations.

"My father was only human though, with human failings. And though he was not greedy he convinced himself that enough time had passed, and that the stories must surely have been forgotten, and that it would do no harm to retrieve some of the treasure, just to make our lives a little easier. He wanted new horses, more expensive materials for his forge, a greater reputation for finer products."

"And so he unearthed the treasure?"

"He brought home only a small fraction of it, but spent a little too liberally, a little too quickly. He bought the attention he was seeking, but it did not manifest as he had hoped."

"Thieves came?"

"More than thieves, zealots, inquisitors. He and my brothers were tortured, I listened to every scream, felt every wound, but none of them gave up their secrets; my father understood then, and found his courage then. Though his misstep cost him his life, and cost my brothers' theirs."

"How did you escape?"

"A few minutes of warning, and I was hidden away under the house, a disguised cellar my father had built to hide his greatest treasures, and his sins. It was accessed below the forge, not a place anyone would think to look. I waited through the horror till all was silent, and then I waited longer, perhaps a day down there, watching the darkness come and go, and come again. I cried all my tears down there. When I emerged I brought with me the remains of the treasure. I closed the eyes of my brothers and my father and said my goodbyes to them. I packed a bag with enough provisions for the ride and then I freed all the horses but one. I set a few candles with oil soaked rags about them in the house and prayed for mercy and flame, then set out for Paris. I hope that my family have all found their peace by now and that no one will return to disturb the ruins of them."

I felt cold, despite the warmth of the fire and the rising sun.

"Those men who attacked you, they were looking for the treasure?" She nodded.

"I do not want to even imagine what might have befallen me had you and your friends not happened upon us."

Neither did I.

"And now I have given you my life Athos. I am sorry for the burden. You may take me to Paris and deliver me to your Cardinal, where I will be denounced as a witch, tortured and killed because I will not betray all those who have died before me." She waited for my answer, her lips pursed together, yet still trembling, eyes filling over again with tears.

"No. No, I will not betray you." I curled her hand around the coin. "Not for a long dead myth. Hide this, hide all of these, I will take you to Paris, and I will ensure your safety. If your life is mine I will protect it as my own, I swear it." I pulled her against my chest, and held her there for a great long while, until our peace was disturbed by a familiar voice, yelling my name. I would have recognized Porthos' deep baritone anywhere. He had returned to find us as he had promised. And he had brought transportation.

I was not used to seeing Porthos driving horses, but there he was, at the reins of huge plow horse pulling a cart, breaking through the ice covered ground, flattening a path with heavy footfalls and wide wheels. He waved with his genuine, gleeful smile as we emerged from the farmhouse.

"Athos! Mademoiselle! I see you found luxurious accommodations for the night as well." He leapt down from his seat and clapped me around the shoulder, bowing his neck to Gwyneth. She covered her blush gracefully with her left hand as he took her right and kissed it.

"And what of d'Artangnan?" I asked.

"He is well, likely taking the attentions of the ladies at the Inn where we found shelter, pretending that his blow was nearly mortal when in truth it was little more than a scratch."

"Good to hear."

"Let me deliver you two to a proper meal and to warm water then. Mme'selle, if I might offer you a hand up to ride?"

We packed up the saddlebags, tethered Gwyneth's horse to the back of the cart, and taking my place beside Porthos on the seat. I turned back as we drove away to see that Gwen had curled herself into her cloak, and with her head on a pile of straw, had fallen asleep.