The Musketeers doesn't belong to me
Strength
"Are you sure Treville?"
"Yes Majesty," Treville assured his King. "They are needed here."
"Fine," Louis agreed reluctantly, he didn't see why Treville thought that the Musketeers were more needed in Paris than they were at the front but he trusted Treville. He could at least take comfort in the fact that Aramis wasn't going to return with them.
"Is there anything I need to be worried about?" he asked instead. "I thought the Red Guard and Feron had everything in hand here in the city."
"They do," Treville replied, "but it wouldn't hurt to have more protection, would it?" Treville had his suspicions, Feron was up to no good but he was the King's brother; it would be good to have Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan back to protect the people in Paris.
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Anne, Spanish Queen of France, flinched when Louis turned away from her and hugged his father instead.
It hurt.
She had seen it over the past three years, Louis, her husband, hated her. She didn't know how but somehow he must have found out about Aramis, about the fact that little Louis wasn't really his son and instead of confronting her he'd just decided to ignore her and worse, say hurtful things, even in public.
She had come into this marriage with her eyes open, it was a political alliance, nothing less but there used to be friendship…some concern on his part for her but now nothing.
"You're not needed here," Louis told her, "as you can see we have everything under control."
Little Louis jumped onto his father's lap and smiled at him.
"It's time for his breakfast," Anne said.
"I can see that my son is fed," Louis told her.
"Okay," Anne attempted a smile and walked out of the room.
As he watched her go Louis wondered if should mention that the Musketeers-san-Aramis were returning to Paris but in the end he decided not to. He would tell her when they were actually in the city.
In the corridor Anne took a moment to brace herself against the wall. She didn't know if she could do this anymore, if she could continue to live with a man who clearly hated her. But didn't she deserve it, she asked herself, hadn't she betrayed him and lied to him, wasn't he justified in his behaviour towards her?
Sometimes the pain was too much she just wanted to end it all, to run away, to go back home or at least go into exile, but she knew she couldn't. She had nowhere to go, France was her home, this palace her prison for better or for worse.
Her son needed her to be strong for him and she would be. She would be strong. She would endure Louis' insolence and everything he threw at her.
She had no choice.
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