The hot Parisian summer had slowly melted into a stormy, temperamental autumn which clouded the city in deep, thick fogs every evening. Carriage rides proved troublesome for those travelling around the city at dusk, and villains and thieves held back around every corner, their sinful deeds covered by the mask of the night. Wars abroad had since ceased, causing unemployed soldiers to loiter the streets, begging or looking for employment. Even the Musketeers had little to do on those cold, rainy days. The Queen had discovered the existence of her husband's deep-rooted disease, the White Plague, but had gone to great lengths to disclose this fact from him. She hid her sorrow behind a screen of unchanging indifference, with false smiles and laughs that quickly faded when Louis had left the room. It was true that she felt grief; Louis was, after all, her husband, but now more so than ever Anne felt a deep protection for her son- the dauphin- and was determined to maintain her son's safety at all costs.
Meanwhile, Aramis had never been more in love. As the summer went on, he and Florence had met more and more often (mainly by an 'accidental' meeting concocted by Aramis at first). A chance walk in the palace gardens one day had revealed a hidden alcove in the garden wall, covered by a blanket of hanging flowers. Inside was a small stone bench, and light shafted in through a gap between the stone in the roof, giving enough light to see. It was in this alcove where the two would meet, in secret. They both knew the likely outcome if the King's niece and a musketeer were found in each other's company, even if they were only talking. The truth was, despite being a lady at the King's palace, Florence was lonely. She found a friend in the handsome musketeer Aramis, and as summer progressed their love grew with the roses that lined the garden walls.
Athos had continued his discreet meetings with an elusive person whose identity remained a mystery throughout the summer. Athos' secret meetings became more frequent, as did Aramis'. And their lacking presence did not go unnoticed by their brothers-in-arms.
"They're both off, again, aren't they?" Porthos said upon entering the Musketeer's base, completely soaked from a sudden downpour, which had caught him off-guard. He removed his sodden jacket and hung it up by the door. He then sat down by the steadily blazing fire and kicked off his boots.
"Oh, yes," D'Artagnan said, pouring Porthos and himself a drink. 'Aramis has gone to meet his ladylove again whilst Athos… well, we can only guess where our captain has got to. Perhaps he has found himself a girl as well."
Porthos grasped his hands gratefully around the drink and shook his head. 'Nah. I reckon something is going on… something Athos doesn't want us to know. Knowing him, it could be anything."
D'Artagnan grinned. "Imminent war, perhaps? Scandalous secrets within the palace that god forbid we made public?"
Porthos' grin was quickly replaced by a grave face. " There's already one of those, you know."
They both knew what he meant. The parentage of the dauphin. The future king of France was illegitimate.
"And don't we know it. Still, do you remember when the King told the court about that saboteur intent on ruining him? You don't think Athos…"
Porthos sunk lower in his seat and watched the dying embers of the fire wither away. Suddenly he didn't feel like speaking anymore.
Early the next morning, Lady Florence made her way to the dauphin's chambers to wake him and give him his lessons. She found him cuddled up in his expanse of bed, snuggled within a lavish quilt of gold. How fond she was of this child! And the future king of France, no less.
"Come along, Louis, it is time to wake up." She said softly.
But the dauphin was far too tired to listen. Instead, he slept on peacefully. Florence smiled and looked out of the large window beside the dauphin's bed onto the endless emerald green of the gardens below. She watched as the rare autumn sun shone down on an ornate water fountain which trickled a stream of clear water down into a glittering pool beneath it. Then a familiar figure came into view. She saw Aramis striding along the path beneath the window. After fumbling quickly with the window to open it, she called (softly, so she wouldn't wake anyone up at this early hour) to him. His face lit up and he darted off into the palace. A moment later there was a slight knock on the dauphin's door. Aramis entered. Florence rushed to him and kissed him gently. Aramis held her in his arms and caressed her face. "Good morning," he said.
"Be quiet, or the guard will hear you!" Florence whispered, but she was laughing. Aramis glanced over her shoulder, and his gaze stopped on the sleeping Dauphin.
"The young king." He said. There was something in his voice that Florence couldn't put her finger on. What was it? Wistfulness? Longing?
"Yes," Florence took the musketeer by the hand and led him to the sleeping prince. She linked her arm with his and rested her head on his shoulder.
"Isn't he precious?"
Aramis' face was somewhere between a frown and a smile. He didn't take his eyes off the child as he said; '…yes"
Florence looked up at Aramis' sorrowful eyes and took his face in her hands.
"Is there something the matter, my darling?"
He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face Louis. Then he said, quietly.
"Does he not look like anyone you know?"
Florence hesitated for a moment. "Well… of course he looks like the Queen- he has her eyes. But… well, for a moment… he could look like you."
Florence turned away from the silently sleeping boy, and laughed softly.
"But I speak of treason."
She walked past Aramis and began to collect various books for the day's lessons. As she was reaching down to grab one, Aramis said, in almost a whisper;
"No. You do not."
Florence froze, the books she carried dropped to the floor, forgotten. The noise made the dauphin stir.
She turned slowly to face him.
"What do you mean?"
But Aramis' face said it all.
"The Queen… and you? The dauphin… is not the King's son?" Tear after tear began to stream down her face like the water fountain outside. Aramis, too, seemed overcome with emotion to string a proper sentence together. A deep sadness clouded his face, made his shoulders sag, making him almost unrecognisable to Florence.
She quickly composed herself, and began to quickly pick up the discarded books arrayed on the immaculately polished marble floor. She could see her reflection in it- how wretched she looked! She pushed past Aramis and said;
"Come along Louis. You must get up now." Her tone was so much harder than it had been before.
"Florence…" Aramis tried, but Florence didn't even look up. She wiped her face with her sleeve as she said "I think it best if you left, now, Aramis. If the guard found you in here…" Still she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Perhaps it was betrayal she felt. Perhaps it was jealousy. Or maybe it was a combination of both. Only when she heard the door quietly shut did she let herself be completely taken over by the emotions that had been rising in her. She found herself on the polished floor weeping, as her reflection stared back with tearful eyes.
Neither of them had noticed, whilst in the dauphin's bedchamber, that a fourth person was privy to that conversation. From inside the dauphin's wardrobe , Captain Marcheaux had witnessed the whole thing… and that was all he needed to know.
