Thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or started following this story. Please keep on reviewing so I know my story is actually being read! I hope it'll live up to all of your expectations. Also a big thank you to my beta Vesper, I'd be lost without her.

Chapter Two: Runaways

Flea's eyes darted around nervously. She hated leaving the Court of Miracles and yet she had done so twice already in the past week. It had all started with a threat, not directly from the Cardinal himself of course; he had men to handle that sort of dirty work for him. With Charon dead, it was somehow silently agreed upon by the Court's inhabitants that she was to be their new leader. That was why she was the one who received the letter threatening to lay waste to the entire court and its people unless she'd agree to use her 'specific talents' in aid of the Cardinal's scheme.

Flea was well aware of how far the Cardinal's powers reached and there was no doubt in her mind that he would carry out his threat without a second thought. That, and the promise of good money was enough to convince her to head over to the abandoned market square late one night to receive further instructions. Again, it wasn't the Cardinal himself waiting for her, but a heavily built, bald man whose eye-patch made him look somewhat like a pirate.

The assignment was easy enough, spy on some musketeer and meet up with Mr Pirate once a week to pass through any useful information and get paid. Flea felt a tinge of guilt when she thought of Porthos, but he was also a musketeer after all and she herself had never trusted the men in blue. Besides the regiment had grown larger and larger over the last few years; Porthos couldn't possibly be friends with all of them, if he had any friends at all that was. He claimed he did, but she refused to believe that noble men like the musketeers would ever truly accept someone with a background like his into their midst.

With that in mind and the final threat that if she refused to cooperate or ever implicated the Cardinal in any form or shape that she'd pay with her life, Flea set off on her new mission.

Now standing outside the tavern where she'd just heard the musketeer, 'Aramis', who she was supposed to follow, converse with one of his friends about visiting the palace, she was strongly doubting her decision to take part in this mad scheme. Of course she recognized the two musketeers from before. They had come for Porthos the first time there was a threat against the existence of the court.

"That doesn't mean that they're friends with Porthos" She thought to herself "It's only their duty to protect each other." Besides, Flea was sure passing this information through to Mr Pirate would earn her enough money to live on for at least two months, which was a lot if you didn't have anything.

With a heavy sigh, she dismissed all thoughts of Porthos and decided to stick to her original motto, a motto that Porthos once shared with her: 'Never trust the law, never trust the musketeers'.

D'Artagnan and Porthos left the tavern not long after Athos had taken off and the Musketeers' newest recruit, instead of heading straight back to the garrison, claimed he still had an important errand to run and would meet up with the rest of them at breakfast. They both knew that it was a lie and that he was really going to walk by Madame Bonacieux's house a couple of times to make sure she was alright.

As usual, D'Artagnan hid himself behind a tree near the house for if Constance's husband ever found out what D'Artagnan was doing almost every night, there'd be hell to pay. Not to mention what reaction Constance herself would have if she ever found out he was practically stalking her. After about an hour nearly freezing to death without a sign of life from within the house, D'Artagnan wisely decided to return to the garrison for some much needed sleep.

"I can see you, you know," a familiar voice whispered in his ear. D'Artagnan stumbled backwards into the tree with a loud yelp "Keep quiet!" the familiar voice chided him. D'Artagnan couldn't believe his eyes, before him stood Constance Bonacieux, her face half hidden in the shadows. She was staring at him defiantly with both her hands placed firmly on her hips.

"How did you manage to sneak up on me like that?" were the first words he could muster up, still shocked that the tiny woman had managed to get the drop on him.

Constance rolled her eyes in annoyance "Only a blind person would've missed you standing here every bloody night of the week!" she exclaimed. D'Artagnan stared down at his feet, nervously shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He hadn't expected to be caught.

"You're lucky my husband hasn't seen you!" Constance continued, although her tone softened when she noticed D'Artagnan's discomfort. "You shouldn't be here D'Artagnan." She gently placed a hand on his cheek and made him look at her again.

D'Artagnan nodded. "I know, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe." It wasn't a complete lie, if he couldn't be with her at least he'd make sure she was safe and happy.

Constance smiled at him. "I can take care of myself." Her eyes were already tearing up when she suddenly gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Please don't come here anymore D'Artagnan." With that, she took off towards the house and he couldn't do anything to stop her without taking the risk of being discovered.

At the door, Constance quickly wiped her tears always before entering and didn't look back.

D'Artagnan stood there, leaning against the tree for another five minutes, silently praying Constance would change her mind, but nothing happened. So, with a heavy heart he turned around and was about to go back to the garrison when he saw something moving from the corner of his eyes, it was a dark shape in the form of a man, but he once he'd fully turned around to take a good look, everything was quiet.

"Anyone there?" he softly called out. There was no answer.

Aramis rolled over to his other side again, then with a heavy sigh he sat up. He'd been twisting and turning all night, he couldn't sleep. The sun had just started to rise and his guard duty wouldn't start for another three or four hours. He sighed again running a hand through his messy hair; getting some more sleep was definitely out of the question. He could hear Porthos and Athos snoring through the thin walls of his room as if they were having a contest to see who was loudest.

'She's not a woman, she's the Queen!" Porthos's voice echoed through his head. Both he and Athos had warned him many times that perusing the Queen could only end in disaster and God knew Aramis had tried to stay away from her, but somehow he failed. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame; he was in love.

He'd never openly admit this to anyone, but Aramis of the King's musketeers was indeed in love with the Queen of France.

"Look at what's become of us" he chuckled. All four of them were miserable because of the women they'd once loved or still loved, but could never have.

Slowly, Aramis got up and dressed himself in his usual uniform. Normally he liked to sleep in, but today he'd treat himself to an early breakfast. His friends were probably already there and would hopefully provide some distraction.

Once he stepped outside, he deeply inhaled the cold winter air. Snow was threatening to fall from the dark clouds above him and the frozen ground crunched under the weight of his boots as he made his way across the courtyard. Like he had suspected, his friends were already enjoying their meal, except for D'Artagnan. The youngest musketeer liked sleeping in even more then Aramis did!

"Good morning," Athos politely greeted when Aramis sat down next to him. The thing Aramis loved most about Athos is that he never asked questions, unlike D'Artagnan, who had a talent for asking the wrong questions at the wrong time and unlike Porthos, who didn't really ask questions, but didn't keep quiet either.

"You're up early," Porthos stated, his eyes sparkling with barely contained laughter. Aramis glared at him and was about to come up with a witty comeback when the door to the mess hall opened with a loud bang. Aramis could feel the coldness from outside quickly spreading through the room.

"Close the door boy," he heard Athos say in a commanding tone that sounded as chilly as the cold wind from outside. Aramis turned around to see who had entered and why Athos already seemed to dislike this person. In the doorway stood William Lacy. The young raven haired boy was a messenger in the service of the Cardinal and often the bearer of bad news.

Every eye in the room was trained on poor William, waiting for him to make his announcement. This only seemed to make the boy even more nervous than usual "I…..I'm lo…..looking for S….Sir Aramis of the King's Musketeers," he finally stammered.

With that everyone seemed to snap out of their trance and continued their breakfast activities. All except for Porthos, Athos and Aramis himself.

"I'm Aramis," he said, stepping forward and the boy bowed down to him as if he was the King himself.

Missing the bemused glance Porthos and Athos shared behind his back, Aramis rolled his eyes, grabbed William by his shoulders and hauled him back up. "There's no need for that," he told the young boy gently, who was still quaking in his boots from nervousness.

William took a few deep breaths to calm himself and managed to deliver his message to Aramis without stuttering. "The Cardinal wishes to speak with you, sir."

Aramis frowned, why on earth would the Cardinal want to speak with him? Unless….the colour drained from his cheeks, the room started spinning around him, the Cardinal couldn't have found out could he? Unable to utter another word he desperately turned around to face Athos.

Athos shared his friends worry, but somehow managed to keep his emotions in check; his face didn't betray any emotion. "Did he say what it was about?" he asked William.

"He has something that belongs to Sir Aramis and would like to return it to him," William answered simply, not noticing when the two musketeers shared a worried glance.

To be continued...