Being called to the palace by the King himself was never the way Athos liked to start his day, but seeing his wife there, casually sitting in a plush chair petting a fluffy cat with her long unholy fingers was worse then anything Louis could throw at him. Or so he thought.

"Your Majesty. Milady de Winter."

"Athos! I've been quite anxious for you to arrive!"

The unusual chipperness of the King didn't escape him or the assassin dressed in the most expensive silk money could buy. A wary look thrown his way proved that beyond any doubt, but the lazy movement of her fingers in the unsuspecting animal's fur didn't halter for a second.

"I'm at your service, Sire."

Now there really was no way to tell the King to get on with it, was there

"That you are, that you always are." The amusement in the ruler's voice was palpable. "This is so exiting. You see, Milady, I've decided that you, my darling, deserve something… nice."

A sly smile, calculated lean of the head:

"I'm flattered, Sire. Might I enquire what you mean by "nice"? I have to confess the royal kind of nice is very new to me."

"Your wit never ceases to excite me, Milady. The thought of parting with you even for a day saddens me, but I'm afraid I'll have to."

This time there was indeed a pause in the languid stroking of the cat. It opened his eyes and stared at the woman who was supposed to be providing the petting service in annoyance, but she couldn't care less.

Guarded expression, lips ready to break into a sultry smile or tighten into a line of defeat.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Sire."

"This brave Musketeer is the surprise, my darling!"

The happy wave of the Kind's hand was met with dead silence in the room. Athos caught another wary glance and willed himself to stay silent. Apparently so did his wife, her eyes wide with the same fear that was stabbing at him right now.

Luckily, the King grew tired of their joint silence before either of them was foolish enough to break it.

"I've noticed you growing restless in the Louvre, Milady. Truth be told Rochefort has been keeping me very busy with political talk lately and I have been neglecting you and I would like to apologise. In a royal manner."

The next thing the cat learned was to never get comfortable on this woman's knees ever again. It landed on all four, forgotten as she rushed to the king's side, interlacing her fingers with his. Athos bit down a smirk at the cat's disillusionment. God knows, the beast had it coming.

"No apology needed, Sire, I would never dream of distracting you from the matters of State."

Innocent look, open and honest, all fluttering eyelashes and slightly parted lips. A perfect trap.

"Oh, but you are, darling. Such a marvellous distraction."

A content smile, head bound in coy modesty. There's no such thing as coy modesty, but she was projecting it perfectly.

"Unfortunately I will have a lot of matters to attend this next couple of days and I would hate for you to be bored. So I have arranged a surprise trip to Versailles - you leave today and I will even be so kind to give you this fine Musketeer as a gift. A guard and protector. Use him wisely."

Her smile turned predatory, a victorious look in her eyes, but the sadder expression slid in seamlessly.

"I will go if that is your wish, Sire. But I shall not be able to enjoy myself fully without your company."

"Do try. That's why I'm sending one of my finest men to accompany you - to ensure your safety at all times so that you can just relax and be carefree just like I like you to be."

"Yes, Sire."

"I'm sorry, Sire." This time willing himself to be silent didn't seem to have worked. "I am sure there are other men more suitable for the assignment."

An angry flash of a petulant child in the King's eyes was unmistakable.

"Now, why would you deem yourself unsuitable, I wonder? Aren't you the best in the regiment?"

"Some say so. What they mean is I am the best soldier. Not the best guard for such distinguished lady, surely."

"You guard me, don't you?"

"Yes, Sire."

"And this…" A manoeuvre to stand behind his treacherous wife, another to put his hands oh her waste, smiling proudly from behind her back. Her stare was icy: out of the King's sight she doesn't have to contain her disdain for being in the same room with him. She is a ghost of his past, but little does she know that he is a ghost of himself too, making them a perfect mismatch all over again. "…is my most precious treasure. And you are to keep it safe. Is that clear, Musketeer?"

The playful reverence she made at the words "treasure" and her satisfied expression at being called "it" sickened him, but focusing on keeping his face straight helped.

"Yes, Sire."

However, it seemed the damage had been done, judging by the way Louis's features hardened.

"The problem I have with you, Musketeers is that relentless pride and arrogance. The elite King's troops must be more appreciative of their position and duty. Which is to follow the king's orders. And my orders have hereby changed: you will not only accompany Milady de Winter to Versailles and for four days, but also succumb to her every whim. That will be your punishment for contradicting your King."

"Yes, Sire." The anger would have to wait until he's out of the palace. But then something would have to suffer dearly for this.

"Now, Milady, darling." The King took her hand in his, holding it like a delicate flower, like he himself used to. He never used to have this air of ownership, but the gesture was the same: he hadn't known those hands were deadly either back then. "I know there's not a mean bone in your body, but do try to be whimsical. He needs a lesson in humility."

"I will do my best, Sire."

If he were someone else he would laugh out loud at her earnest response. Unluckily he was still him, and Athos-the-musketeer didn't laugh.

"And tell me about it later?"

"Of course, Sire."

A light kiss on the royal cheek and she left the room, her signature sideway mocking gaze-punch at him firmly in place. Not that he missed it one bit.

"You're dismissed, Musketeer. Milady's carriage will leave in two hours."

"Yes, Sire."

He left the room hastily only to collide with her in one the vast corridors of Louvre. He was immediately grateful the corridors of Louvre were crowded with servants and court ladies those days - if they were alone there's no telling what he'd do to her smug form in that impossibly low cut dark gold dress. She looked like a treasure indeed, but he knew the poison this particular relic was hiding within, he'd had a taste of it and barely survived. Then again maybe he didn't. The only thing he knew for sure is that she waited for him here in that dress made with the only objective of baring her mercilessly to the eye of the beholder, a degrading item of luxury clothes her sheer presence turned into another weapon of hers. Not that she had a shortage of those.

He shot her a ferocious look in hopes that it would stop her from gloating, but he was not naive enough to believe it will work. The look elicited a cheerful laugh from her as the woman he swore to kill but was now obliged to protect with his life uttered quietly in his wake:

"May the irony never defeat you, Athos"

"I don't succumb easily."

"I know. We'll work on that."