Marguerite Lavigne never liked carriages. Her cousin, Porthos, had taught her to ride a horse when she was seven and she took to it. At least when she was riding a horse, she wouldn't constantly bump up and down every time there was a hole or a rock. Still, she endured it, because she was going to visit Porthos at Palace of Versailles. He was a musketeer, a protector of King Louis, and so he was often at Versailles.

When the carriage pulled up to the gate, the driver gave the gatekeeper Marguerite's name. Marguerite inched herself closer to the window and pressed her face to it; it didn't take her long to recognize the gatekeeper. Monsieur Chevalier had been the gatekeeper for many years and Marguerite had known him since she was ten-years-old. That was fourteen years ago and Monsieur Chevalier was no longer young; his hair begun to gray and the wrinkles in his skin were very noticeable. Still, he never had a desire to retire from his occupation and Marguerite was glad as he always had a friendly smile.

As the carriage arrived at the palace, the driver hopped down from his seat and opened the door for Marguerite. There were four people waiting to greet her: her cousin Porthos and his friends (and fellow musketeers) Athos, Aramis, and D' Artagnan. She smiled as the driver helped her down, and she instantly ran to Porthos, giving him a tight hug.

"Oh Porthos, I've missed you!" Marguerite said.

Porthos chuckled. "Come now, Marg, I'm sure you've had lots of things to keep you busy in Besancon."

Marguerite rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, spending all my days in doors with Mama, practicing my embroidery. Every day is some sort of adventure."

Porthos frowned. "Now, don't sound bitter. There is a reward for your days of chatter and stitching."

"Which is?"

"Why, you get to spend the entire Summer with your favorite cousin."

Marguerite laughed and gave Porthos another hug. She then allowed his friends to kiss her hand as she curtsied.

"How was your trip, Mademoiselle?" Aramis asked.

"Tolerable. There was hardly any bumps on the country road."

Porthos' eyes grew wide. "You took a country road? You could have been killed, you could have been robbed-"

"Porthos, I was safe inside the carriage. The driver was clever and brought a pistol during our journey."

Porthos sighed a breath of relief. "Promise to travel on a safe road when the time comes to leave?"

"I promise. Now, you must tell me about how you recovered the Queen's necklace. I hear the four of you have become famous in the court."

The four looked embarrassed, but were smiling. Marguerite took Porthos by the arm and squeezed it.

"Come now, tell me everything."

As Porthos led Marguerite inside, the four Musketeers began to recount the theft of Queen Anne's necklace. When they arrived at the throne room, Marguerite became annoyed at the sight of Comte de Rochefort. Not only was the man the most arrogant being on Earth, but he also didn't seem to care for King Louis, let alone his wife Queen Anne. In addition, he and Marguerite would constantly argue when she came for her visits.

As Rochefort approached, Marguerite's annoyance quickly turned to curiosity. He was leaning heavily on a walking stick, his hands were bandaged, and his face was slightly swollen and bruised.

"Monsieur Rochefort, you remember my cousin, Marguerite Lavigne."

"Of course. Mademoiselle, it's a pleasure." Rochefort took Marguerite's hand and kissed it.

"Comte, your appearance has been altered." Marguerite said, choosing her words carefully.

"Well, I could say who is to blame, but in fairness, it was nothing but a fight between rivals."

"I take it then, Monsieur, that you won."

Rochefort smirked. "It was a draw."

Marguerite could not resist any longer. The thought of Rochefort calling a draw during a duel was nearly unheard of. He always managed to defeat his opponents, no matter how big or how strong. Well, there was no harm in a little banter.

"A draw? How unusual, Comte. Had your opponent gotten the better of you?"

"If he hadn't, Mademoiselle, then I wouldn't be in this state." Rochefort said, trying to keep his tone even.

Marguerite winced. The injuries that Rochefort received looked painful, and she suddenly realized that it must have been horrible to call a draw. Even those who appears invincible can have a weakness. Rochefort's weakness was his pride. Not able to accept any sort of defeat.

Before Marguerite could open her mouth to apologize, Rochefort had already limped away and left the throne room.

"Well, you won this banter." Athos said.

"I did, Monsieur. I'm just not certain if it was worth the victory."