Prologue
He stood silently in front of the piece of stone that marked the end of his world. Sighing deeply and allowing the tears to fall freely, he dropped to his knees. Carefully he removed his fleur-de-lis and placed it on the grave stone. His duty was now no longer to the musketeers, it belonged to someone who needed him more than king or country. Someone who would always be more important.
"We will be together again one day of that I am sure." He whispered. "Until then rest well my angel."