Wow, I didn't expect such a feedback to my first part. Thank you so much, for reading, fallowing, favouring this story. This means a lot to me.

Many thanks again to Beth and Helensg for proofreading.

I'm sorry that I hadn't time to update earlier … busy life …

This story belongs to the Saturday Stories in the FB Group The Musketeers BBC UK. I will try to update at the beginning of each week here on ff net.

I still need to put up a reclaimer. I will post it in chapter 1 very soon.

Please leave me a comment/review and tell me what you think about chapter 2.

Thank you xx C

Part 2 – focussing on Aramis

Aramis kicked a small stone angry over the garrison courtyard, which landed at a pillar next to the place, where he had put the shovel with which he just had cleaned several horse boxes. Aramis hated stable duty … but all his brothers were busy with other tasks …

The heat was burning on his hands, neck and bare arms, because he had put off his white shirt to spare it from sweating in it. Exhausted he stretched his arms and considered to sit down, for a while on their favourite bench and drink a cup of cold water.

It was hot - much too hot for his liking and even his big hat, which he lifted from time to time to use as a fan, didn't help him to flee from the hot sunrays. Exhausted he dropped on the wooden bench and eagerly drank two cups of water.

He was angry … so angry, angry about everything: the world, Tréville, Athos … and himself.

Why hadn't Tréville sent him together with Athos on this simple mission?

Or why had Athos not asked him to come along? Of course he knew the answer to that.

He had really wanted to go along to see the Queen … Anne … to talk to her … to …

What? What was he thinking. The incident at the convent was only several weeks ago. A few days ago the Queen had announced that she was with child and he, he couldn't stop asking himself over and over again the same questions. Instead of being able to talk and to ask his true love he had to wait, to be patient, to get a chance to see her in private.

He'd waited for days now for a chance like today and Athos simply decided in his stubborn way that he would go on his own on a mission.

You are a fool Aramis. You want to know if the child the Queen is pregnant with is yours ...

My daughter … my son … it doesn't matter … what matters is, that I am the father. I can feel it. Deep in my heart, in my soul, I know that this child is mine.

What have I done … How can I help … When can I finally talk with her?

Aramis took off his hat and ruffled his thick brown hair his left hand, thus he tried to get rid of his angry thoughts.

Duval walked by and asked him:

"Are you already finished with your stable work, Aramis? If so, Captain Tréville wants to see you. He's told me that you should hurry up."

"Ha, Tréville, I would have finished by now, if it wasn't only me doing the stable duty, but Porthos and d'Artagnan are at the palace and Athos is away on a mission." He stood up wearily from the bench, walked over to the other Musketeer and slapped him with his right palm on his back.

"I think I am really happy that you just came by. Wait!" Aramis walked over to the pillar where he had left the shovel, grabbed it and brought it back with him. He handed it in Duval's direction.

"Here, you can finish and I will go and see what the Captain wants from me." He offered Duval his most convincing smile, but Duval knew Aramis too well and said:

"Sorry, I can't help you, but why is Athos on a mission on his own? Or do you mean that once again he's drinking himself into stupor in a shabby tavern?" Duval shook his head and moved on.

Confused Aramis looked after Duval. Of course the other Musketeers knew that Athos had his problems and that from time to time he vanished into a tavern to mourn the shadows of his complicated past, but never when he was on duty and on a mission.

The marksman looked up to the sun and realised that it was already late afternoon, early evening. He had completely forgotten about the time and through the heat of the sun he'd still thought it was early afternoon, not early evening.

Athos where are you? You should be back by now? He thought. Had he missed the return of his brother? Curiously he went back to the stable.

Oh no, you didn't return and steal away from me just to avoid helping with stable duty, you wouldn't do that. It's one thing to stop me from seeing the Queen to protect me, her, us … but ...

He stepped into the semi-dark stable and his eyes needed some time to accustom to the darkness. As soon as he could see clearly he looked over to Roger's box, but the intelligent black stallion, which always observed him with his dark eyes, hadn't returned yet, so probably his master hadn't either.

Athos, where are you? Maybe you have stopped by the palace to retrieve another missive for the Queen. That's it and there you have met up with Porthos and d'Artagnan. Stop feeling so uneasy … stop worrying Aramis … you are childish …

But the odd feeling didn't want to leave him. He sensed that something was wrong, but what?

Loud noises outside the stable startled him suddenly. He heard shouts, the trotting of a horse and loud neighing. Without hesitating any further he ran back into the courtyard and paused stock-still, shocked by what he observed.

Near to their favourite bench Roger was standing, moreover walking up and down and pawing the ground more than once. The black stallion was neighing and it was obvious that he was anxious and wanted to tell them something. Several other Musketeers who had been disturbed by the loud noises came looking, some tried to reach Athos' horse but the stallion didn't want to be touched or calmed, so they stopped trying.

Captain Tréville, who had been alarmed by the loud noises in his office, ran down the steps, which lead to his balcony and shouted:

"What's this all about? Why is Roger standing here alone in the courtyard and behaving like a wild animal? Wait? Where's Athos?" He looked irritatedly at Aramis - his mouth wide open - then he scanned the whole courtyard for his Lieutenant, but he couldn't see him anywhere. "He should have returned by now, shouldn't he?" He asked with a concerned voice he couldn't hide.

Aramis didn't answer but approached the black stallion and with his soothing and calming voice he managed to reach for Roger's reins and keep them in a firm grip.

"It's alright Roger, where is Athos?" He talked to the horse and managed to touch his neck. Roger laid his ears back and stopped stamping his hooves. Cautiously he touched Aramis' hand with his nose.

"He's still wearing Athos's brown saddle." Tréville remarked from behind. "I don't like that, Aramis, it's not like him, Athos would never let Roger …" He paused as he heard other horses arriving in the archway which led into their courtyard. Their hooves were clattering over the stone floor. He turned his head and noticed Porthos and d'Artagnan, who were just arriving from their palace guard.

"What's wrong?" Porthos shouted as he sensed the tense atmosphere, while d'Artagnan jumped from Zad and came over to them at once.

"Where is Athos?" He asked, recognising his horse, but not his rider. He approached Aramis and softly stroked over Roger's flank. The black stallion calmed even more.

D'Artagnan frowned suddenly. He felt something wet on the fur of the black animal. As he pulled away his hand to have a better look at it he stared horrified at his own palm. He felt slightly dizzy from the substance which left a salty smell in his nose.

Aramis followed the young Gascon's glance, then he grabbed d'Artagnan's hand and examined the sticky substance on it.

"That's blood!" He exclaimed. "Is Roger hurt somewhere? Let me have a closer look."

Aramis searched the fur of the animal, but he couldn't find any trace of a wound, but some fresh blood.

In horror he looked up to Porthos.

"I think that's Athos's blood. Something must have happened to him … it's the only explanation why Roger is here. He came to fetch help. Damn …"

As Aramis went silent to try to sort his own thoughts and to calm himself he heard a voice in the distance:

"We have to find him." Tréville stated firmly looking from one of the Inseparables to the next. "It's not like him to return by foot and the blood on Roger's fur augures ill. I fear that Athos needs our help." He added in a low voice, fearing for the welfare of his officer.

"But where shall we look for him, he could be anywhere." Porthos scratched his hair.

"I think he must be near to the garrison." D'Artagnan said.

"Why do you think so?" Aramis asked.

"Do you see those green flowers in Roger's fur. They are very rare around Paris, but I know a field nearby where they are growing this time of the year - I know them from our farm."

"Where is this field?" Porthos urged with an anxious voice.

"It's really close, about fifteen minutes by horse." D'Artagnan hurried to explain.

"What are we waiting for?" Porthos boomed. "Let's move. Athos is obviously wounded or in grave danger or both and needs our help, I think if we follow d'Artagnan's direction and take Roger along, we will find him."

"Wait, I will fetch my horse and my medical kit!" Aramis shouted while already running to the stables ordering Jacques to saddle his horse.

I should have gone with you Athos. I don't know what happened to you, but the amount of blood on Roger's fur is not good, you must be gravely injured ... I hope you didn't fall from your horse. I … we need to find you … fast … or I fear for your survival … Please be alright … Please ...

To be continued ...