"Let me introduce my niece, Lady Florence Durand!" The King announced to the mass of advisors, councillors and chancellors in the grand hall of Versailles. "She is here to look after my little prince as my excellent advisors think be unfit to do so myself." The so-called excellent advisors shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. "I'm sure you'll all treat her wonderfully."

Lady Florence Durand smiled graciously at the King, who returned the smile with a fond grasp of her hand. She was then led out of the room by a small group of immaculately dressed ladies-in-waiting, and followed them through a huge, intricately carved door. The King then resumed his meeting with his chancellors in the centre of the room. A deep silence blanketed the hall and the only voice heard was that of King Louis. From what D'Artagnan could hear- which wasn't much, as he had been placed in the further corner of the room away from the meeting out of sight- it seemed that there was someone in the palace intent on sabotaging the King's new plans- so secret barely anyone knew what these plans entailed, except the King and his most trusted advisors.

With D'Artagnan, standing guard in the hall, were three other musketeers of the King's army.

"Quite a pretty one, isn't she?" Porthos said.

D'Artagnan nodded in agreement, then nudged Porthos and nodded over to Aramis, who still had his mouth agape and was staring at the now-closed door.

Porthos winked at D'Artagnan and said slightly louder; 'Aramis!"

Aramis jumped and looked extremely taken aback. His head shot round to his two friends.

"What? Oh, her? Well… I guess. I hadn't really-"

Porthos gave Aramis a slight punch on the shoulder. "Sure! Of course you didn't!"

Suddenly Athos shushed his three friends. "If you're any louder the King will surely hear. And how would you like that?"

They fell silent. But it wasn't long until Porthos quietly murmured to Aramis:

"You like her, don't you?"

"No! Of course not!"

But Porthos could always see through his friend's lies. To him, Aramis was an open book. An open book with very large writing.

Aramis sighed. As soon as she had entered the room, Aramis had gazed in wonder at Lady Florence. She had long, dark hair wound exquisitely round her head and soft eyes. She walked with such grace that Aramis could only describe her as an angel on God's earth. He sighed again and looked up at the painted ceiling, a holy fresco depicting heaven with ringing bells and cherubs. She had barely looked his way when she walked past. Of Aramis' existence, she was quite unaware.

"Look, Porthos! He's dreaming about his true love! What number are you on now? Your third, or is she your twenty-third true love?" D'Artagnan whispered loudly. Porthos responded with a whoop of laughter, which echoed around the grand hall, bouncing off every decorated mirror and wall. Silence fell in the room, and all eyes turned to the King's musketeers. A large grandfather clock ticked away in silence before King Louis turned to the sheepish musketeers and said coldly;

"Do tell us what's so funny. We all enjoy a good joke."

The Musketeers had just returned from a disastrous defeat in battle by the Spanish. On the journey home, nobody spoke. Athos rode with his head bowed, a dull grimace clouded his face. Drizzle dripped off of the soldier's misshapen hats and splashed on the ripped saddles of their horses. After a while, Athos said, his voice dull and flat; "We lost a lot of good men today. We shouldn't have."

They rode on in silence. From somewhere behind then thunder rumbled and lightning spat across the sky.

"Bloody weather," Athos mumbled. "Bloody, bloody weather."

Upon their return to the palace, Athos slunk dismally into some dark passage, leaving the others to return their horses to the stables. Porthos and D'Artagnan had just left to tend to their war-weary horses, so Aramis resolved to follow Athos. As he quickly and quietly entered the passage, he collided with a figure travelling the opposite way.

"Hey! Watch where you're- Oh!"

The figure was Lady Florence, who looked just as shocked as Aramis felt. Even in the dimly-lit passageway, she looked as beautiful up close as she had on the first day Aramis saw her in the great hall. He had sneaked away many times to catch a sight of her in the palace gardens, walking with her ladies-in-waiting or playing with the Dauphin. His Dauphin. He had never spoken to her, in all the weeks she had been at court. And now, the first thing he said to her had been short and rude. He would have kicked himself had he not been so out of his depth, finally faced with the King's beautiful niece.

"I- I'm terribly sorry, my lady. I- I didn't expect-"

She smiled. " It is I who should be apologising, Monsieur…?"

"Oh… Aramis," he said "Just Aramis."

"Well," Florence said. " Aramis, if you are looking for your friend, he passed me down this passage not too long ago."

Aramis thanked her and started to walk further down the passage, grateful that the light was dim enough to mask the blush slowly rising in his cheeks. He could hear her footsteps echoing down on the cold, stone slabs. He quickly turned around and called; "What are you doing down here, my lady-"

But she was gone.

A few weeks later, Aramis, Athos and Porthos were sat in the courtyard. Porthos was sat on a bench behind Aramis and Athos who were busy cleaning their pistols. It was a quiet day- there was nothing to be done and Porthos was getting a sense of anti-climax after their recent exploits. It was a sunny day, but the air was stuffy and damp, heavy to breathe in. Porthos began to tap his feet in irritation.

"If you're bored, Porthos, why don't you get us some water?" Athos said in his signature slow drawl, without looking behind him.

Porthos leapt off the bench, and pulled a face behind Athos. Aramis grinned. He then watched his brother-in-arms tramp off behind the stables to salvage some water from somewhere.

Athos looked up at a balcony-which one Aramis couldn't tell- and then began to quickly put away his cleaning tools. Without looking at Aramis he muttered; "I'll be back soon', then hurried off in the direction of the palace. Athos furtively looked around him to check nobody was watching, then disappeared down the same passageway he had a few days before. Aramis watched after him, speechless. Porthos suddenly emerged from somewhere hauling two large buckets full to the brim of water with him. He dropped them on the ground, sloshing water all over the dry dust that lined the courtyard's cobbles, and said, exasperated;

"Where'd he go?"

Aramis turned at looked Porthos in the eye. "I think there's something Athos isn't telling us."