CHAPTER TWO

Athos was watching Aramis for a good while now, though he had not intended to do so.

The reception area was empty, Charlène had gone home about two hours ago, and Constance had left a quarter of an hour later with d'Artagnan. The young woman had been in high spirits when she had returned to the office together with d'Artagnan, and the good mood had remained during the afternoon. Whether or not Constance would tell her aunt about her experiences Athos didn't know nor did he care at the moment. Charlène had never been anything other than trustworthy and discreet. If she learned of their little secret, she would certainly take it calmly. Athos suspected that LaFère Security's good soul might already know something or at least suspect a lot. Constance had been lucky to get another doctor's appointment early the next day, and Athos hoped her good spirits would continue.

Porthos had stopped for the day even earlier and left the office around five o'clock to pick up Elodie from work, as he had done every night since they had met. Only Athos and Aramis had remained working, the low illumination spreading a warm glow through the deserted reception area, keeping Athos in the shadows where he stood at the counter. He had finished the report for a CEO who had contracted them before things with Grimaud had spiralled out of control. While putting the report and a short notice about billing instructions into Charlène's in-tray, he glanced at Aramis' office, only to find the other man sitting at his desk, staring into the dark night sky.

Aramis had not moved in almost five minutes while Athos had been watching him, and neither had Athos. He tried to work out whether the younger man was pondering the problems of the recent occurrences or if he was just lost in thought. He sighed and walked over to Aramis' office.

"Anything I can help you with?"

Aramis started at the sound of Athos' voice and turned his head, staring at Athos in confusion for a second or two. "You're still here?"

"Yes, I finalised the report for Monsieur Vargas. What are you still doing here?"

Aramis' eyes flickered, moving to and fro, obviously searching for an answer. Eventually, he drawled, "I was lost in thought, it seems. What time is it?"

"Past eight." Athos was pretty sure he knew what had been on Aramis mind. "Are you worrying about Anne? That she might be in danger?"

The expression on Aramis' face changed, from puzzled to upset. "No, not really. Not until you mentioned it just now. Do you think she is in danger?" Alarmed, Aramis rose.

Now it was Athos who looked puzzled. "No. I just thought you'd be worried. You looked a bit miffed this afternoon after Anne told you she wasn't coming home tonight."

"You're right, I am," Aramis mumbled, turning his head to stare out of the window again.

Athos waited. When it became apparent that Aramis would say nothing more, he heaved an internal sight. "I'm off then. Care to join me? I've still got one bottle of the 2006 Château Haut-Brion left, if you need a reason to join me."

A light smile played around Aramis' lips when he turned. "It's not a Château-Haut-Brion-problem, mon ami. A less expensive wine from your wide array of finest reds will do just as well. And yes, I'm free to do whatever I want tonight. Lead the way."

Athos nodded and turned, relying on Aramis to follow him.

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"She's started excluding me from her life," Aramis said, staring at the glass of wine in his hands.

The second bottle was almost empty and, unlike in bygone times, between the two it had been Aramis who had consumed the most. He was slouching on the couch in Athos' living room and the alcohol was starting to taking a toll on Aramis.

"And now you're talking like a fool," Athos replied. He rose to get more baguette from the kitchen. The cheese Aramis had nibbled over the last hour was not nearly enough to soak up the red liquid running freely down Aramis' throat. Over his shoulder he said, "How long have you two been together again now? A year? Has she ever given you the impression she would not share everything with you?"

Aramis said nothing, either because he didn't want to or because he had no answer to the question.

Athos returned with more bread and cheese. "Look, my impression is that you two picked up last year where you left before we went to war. And this time without a king and kingdom breathing down your necks and treason lurking around every corner." Athos slumped into his armchair, grabbing his glass. "Why not just enjoy what you have?"

"Because I have the feeling she's not... I don't know. Telling me everything. Excluding me from her life. From the things she shared with our son."

"Listen, since you two got together again you've been abducted and tortured twice, and you've been shot twice. She's spent a great deal of time by your sickbed, more than once worrying for your life. Is she not entitled to have some carefree time? What's wrong if she wallows in memories from past times now and then? Memories she can't share with you because you were not at her side then. She spent a long time in her life without you, without any of us. Constance and d'Artagnan will experience the same problem, as will Elodie and Porthos. We must accept that the women in our lives lived on beyond our deaths, without us. They have memories neither of us appear. Don't begrudge her some happy moments from the past if she wants to relive them."

"She's walking down memory lane, revisiting places with Henri where they were happy together. Maybe I would have liked to see those places, too? She didn't even ask." Aramis massaged his side while speaking, grimacing.

"Firstly, there's still no proof at all that Henri is your son Louis, he could very well just be baby Henri, born here and now for the very first time. Secondly," Athos pointed out with the help of his fingers, stopping Aramis from interrupting him by wagging his hand in front of the other's face. "Secondly, she is not excluding you from her life just because she's away on a day-trip with the girls."

"She said she'd be back tonight, and now she's staying away, even though it's just less than an hour's drive from here. I'm sure she's captivated by the glorious reminiscence of the wonderful times she has spent in Versailles, with our son, maybe even with Louis, the rare times she accompanied him on his hunting trips then." Anger resonated in Aramis' voice. "A time I did not live to see. I hold no happy memories of Versailles. I hold no happy memories of seeing my son grow up. I'm sorry that I can't wallow in memories of times and places I did not live to see. And that's why she doesn't want me to be there. There's nothing to share there with me. Just leave the spoilsport behind."

"And now you're being unjust," Athos said in an undertone of rising anger. "Even if we had not fallen at Rocroi and had returned to Paris instead, you would not share those memories with her. You would never have seen your son grow up the way you would have liked to, because at the end of the day he was not your son. Never could have been. He was proclaimed king, succeeding his father to the throne, days before the final battle in Rocroi. Don't try to put a gloss on things that was not there. The only role you would have had in their lives is the role of a loyal Musketeer. You might even never once have accompanied the court to Versailles, if Louis had ordered you to remain behind. So stop being unfair. Don't blame Anne for memories she has and likes to relive."

"One day Henri will be old enough and once he remembers me, he will be more willing than Anne to share his past with me," Aramis said sulkily. "Do you not think I'd like to know how he grew up?"

"Aramis," Athos said patiently. "If Henri is the reborn dauphin, he will never remember you. You can't in all seriousness believe that Anne ever told him that his father was not Louis XIII, right? He will only remember one father, Louis de Bourbon. Anne would never have been so foolish as to confide to the King of France that he did not descent from the House of Bourbon, that his father was a simple Musketeer."

From the way Aramis looked at Athos, doubting and hurt, it seemed such a thought had never crossed his mind before. Athos wondered if it had been such a good idea to raise the subject at all and added hurriedly, "Will it not be enough to see Henri grow up now? You can make up for everything you missed back then. Don't ruin what you have now with Anne and Henri by reading things into her behaviour that are not there."

Aramis stared at Athos for a few seconds, then he leaned back on the sofa, resting his head on the backrest. "Maybe you're right," he slurred. "And for the record, I'm not ruining anything." Suddenly, he sucked in air, groaning slowly, his hand coming up to hold his side.

"What's wrong," Athos asked. "Are you in pain?"

"It's nothing."

"Is your gunshot wound bothering you?"

Aramis' head came up again. "No, it's the left shoulder and the ribs, but it's nothing, really. No need to worry." Abruptly he rose, grimacing. "I need to pee."

Athos watched Aramis leave the room before he rose to get some painkillers from his ample supply.

"I didn't know you're still in pain. I thought everything had healed well," Athos remarked as soon as Aramis came back. "Do you need some painkillers?"

"I played with Henri two days ago and thumped down on the floor a bit too hard. Twice. Three times, strictly speaking, but it will pass, don't worry. In any case, Grimaud made a good job of it, that much is clear. And yes, some painkillers would be great."

Athos perked an eyebrow. "And since you've been in pain for more than just the last couple of hours, you didn't deem it wise to ask for painkillers before you drank all that wine? For someone who has worked in the emergency services you know damn little about the interaction of alcohol and pills. Are you sure you want to take them now?"

Aramis glowered at Athos. "Just give them to me, okay?" He briefly closed his eyes and continued in a more placating tone. "I didn't expect it to get worse, I should have taken some pills earlier. Of course you are right, as always. But I'd really like a pill now."

Hesitantly, Athos handed one over.

After staring at it for a while, Aramis put it down on the table. "Maybe better not. I've had a lot of wine, haven't I?"

Athos nodded.

"I guess I should take it like a man and suffer heroically." A grin formed at the corners of his mouth. Groaning again, he stretched out on the couch, propping his head up on the armrest. "It's not only the issue with Versailles," Aramis continued their conversation from a few minutes ago. "I'm sure she's not telling me everything, she's hiding something. Not only the fact that she hired Milady de Winter as contract killer, but more. Why did she never mention she gave orders to kill Gaston? How many more might there be? After everything that happened with Grimaud or Rochefort, why did she never say a word?"

Athos hid his face in the palms of his hands, moaning.

This was going to get a long night.

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"Anne will be back around four, depending on the afternoon rush hour. I told her to come by immediately," announced Aramis, entering Athos' office. "Shall I let Porthos and d'Artagnan know that we'll meet then? Where's the pup anyway?" Aramis turned his head to cast a glance at d'Artagnan's abandoned office.

"Constance has another appointment with your doctor friend, they'll be in later." Athos regarded Aramis. He didn't look any better than this morning when he had gulped down two painkillers with the strong coffee Athos had served him. Athos' advice, to head home and stay there for the day, or at least lie down again for a while until he felt better, had apparently gone unheard, given that Aramis was leaning in his doorway now, looking even more miserable than the day before.

"Have you spoken to Tréville again? Will he come by later?"

"He said he'd give me a call when he has a minute to spare. However, I doubt he'll find the time to drop in today."

"Aha. Did you reach Milady?"

"Nope."

"Has d'Artagnan found anything useful about Gaston? A hint where he is now?"

"Not much, but it seems a trail leads to Switzerland. He'll tell us more when they're back."

They exchanged a few more words, arranging between them any pressing duties, and Aramis returned to his office. Making a detour to the kitchen on his way back, Aramis grabbed the third cup of black coffee to help him through the morning.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully with everyone silently working in their office. All were waiting for the return of Anne so that they would eventually learn more about what Richelieu had disclosed.

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"I guess there's a difference in how you experience it. It may be less painful if you only get to see snippets of your former life, instead of remembering everything, the good, the bad and the painful. For Constance, it's thrilling to experience her earlier life, and the bits and pieces she gets to see during the hypnosis might not be as painful to her as it is for you, or any of us, to remember. She got to know that she was married to you, and that she had a child with you and seeing this child will have brought happy feelings. She will not yet have experienced the grief and pain of raising an orphaned child in a war-torn Paris. The hardship. It'll be something she'll learn sooner or later, so be content with what she remembers now and let her make her own experiences."

D'Artagnan sat slumped on the sofa in Athos' office, looking miserable. He had returned with a thrilled Constance a quarter of an hour earlier and had gone straight to his brother's office to seek advice. The happier the moments from her past life Constance seemed to re-live during the hypnosis, the more the young man dreaded the moment she would learn of the less happy ones in her previous life. The guilt d'Artagnan felt was written all over his face.

"Constance is one of the strongest women I've met, and if she's only half as tough as she used to be, she'll bear whatever is thrown at her in this life as well. Don't worry. When Anne is back, we can ask her to speak to Constance. Anne can tell her about the time when she raised your son, she can gently prepare her for darker memories to come."

D'Artagnan sighed, not fully convinced by what Athos just told him, and rose. "I'll return to Gaston. It looks like he's in Switzerland now. Soon I'll know more."

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"Aramis already told you that Richelieu was here, on behalf of Louis. Louis is anxious about his brother, Gaston, who is the bad apple among Louis and his brothers, the family's persona non grata. Apparently, he's been seeking to gain influence in the family affairs of the House of Hannover for some time. Coincidentally, Gaston is identical with the historical Gaston, younger brother of Louis XIII and has more than once been in disgrace. Louis fears that he and his family are in danger, Gaston has started threatening Louis and other family members if he doesn't get what he wants. And Louis thinks Gaston might know about his past, so he thinks Gaston has even more reason to be angry with him." Athos stopped to give Anne time to process what he had just said and to see how she would react.

Anne had come to the office shortly before five o'clock with Henri in tow, straight from Versailles. Charlène had snatched the toddler and declared she would entertain Henri so that the grown-ups had time for their meeting. While Athos had been talking to Tréville on the phone and Aramis was stuck on a conference call, Constance had dragged Anne to the empty meeting room to tell her about the hypnosis and the memories she had relived during the sessions with the doctor. When d'Artagnan had joined them, Anne and Constance were talking animatedly about old times, the former Queen – glad she could finally speak to one of her dearest friends of old times – telling the young woman anecdotes of things they had experienced together in the hope of wakening more memories. Athos and Porthos had joined them shortly after and as soon as Aramis had closed the door behind him, Athos had begun to speak.

"Richelieu told us he has heard from reliable sources that it was you who ordered Gaston's death, executed by the hands of Milady de Winter," Aramis said. "He also pointed out that if this was the case, you and Milady would be in acute danger, given that Gaston seems to be a very unforgiving man. What do you say?"

Anne's delicate features had blanched during the report, a frown forming on her brow. "Richelieu heard right. I had to get rid of Gaston before he was able to scheme another usurpation. He was getting too greedy and power mad."

"You should have told us," Aramis said, but was interrupted before he could say more.

"We need to know such things" Athos said. "By now we know that we're not the only ones who have returned from past times. Rochefort and Grimaud showed how dangerous it is for us. It's important that we know of such threats before they arise. If you ordered Gaston's death and he knew you were behind it, he poses a threat to both you and my ex-wife. This means Richelieu was right. If we want to protect you, we need to find Gaston and dispose of him before he can do any harm." Athos paused briefly before he added with a sigh, "And by doing so we're also carrying out Louis' plea to help and protect him."

Anne gazed into space. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the issue with Gaston. I didn't think it would ever surface again. Maybe I had just pushed it so far to the back of my mind that it never occurred to me it would be of interest." Her gaze flickered, her eyes moving from Athos to Aramis. "I'm sorry."

Athos, standing opposite Anne, moved to the table, jotting down something on the notepad. "So, our most pressing issue is certainly Gaston. Find him, see if he remembers, and if he does, get rid of him. And then there's still Feron, about whom we don't yet know anything, and Marcheaux who might give us more information about Grimaud's helpers." He put down the pen. "That's something we should be able to handle."

"Erm," said Constance, who had experienced a flaring up of old memories during the recent dialogue, her eyes drifting to Anne. Shifting nervously, she added, "Maybe we should add a few more people to that list?"

D'Artagnan immediately reacted to her statement. "What do you mean? Are you remembering things?"

Athos watched recognition, revolt and resignation flittering over the former Queen's face.

"Is there more?" Aramis asked, hardly suppressed consternation resonating in his voice.

"Who else? What else do we need to know?" Athos demanded.

Constance and Anne shared some meaningful looks before Anne's eyes drifted to Aramis, who was standing behind Athos at the window. From the expression on his face it was obvious that she should have told him, that they should have talked about all the things that had happened after the Queen's closest and most loyal protectors and her most trusted adviser had died. After the Queen had had to shoulder regency without Tréville's guidance, without Aramis at her side. She sighed. "After Tréville died saving the King, I had to make decisions." Anne's hand moved to grab Constance's. Firmly holding on to it, she continued. "My regency was not easy, especially after I lost all my loyal friends. Well, not all, Constance was at my side, but other than her, I had no one I could turn to for advice on political matters. The royal counsel was suspicious, with a dismissive attitude towards me, waiting for me to turn to my brother. Threats arose. I needed to make decisions and protect the young King. I did what I thought was best at that time, though I'm not sure if every decision was wise. Back then, they seemed to be right."

Aramis cleared this throat. "We understand that. You had a hard time at court even when Louis was alive," he said, adding reflectively, "well, maybe because Louis was still alive, but it's obvious that after Louis' death you had even fewer friends. And sometimes we make decisions that might turn out to be less fortunate or even wrong later. Though I'm sure you did never take a decision lightly, whatever ensued."

"I had to protect my son and see to the well-being of France. That was all that counted. Nevertheless, I'm sure you won't like what you hear. Tréville should be here, he would understand. After all, he was the one who contracted her before I employed her services." Anne glanced at Athos, knowing that he would be less than thrilled to hear what she was going to tell them.

Constance, who, only moments ago, had had just a fleeting memory of the conversation she and Anne referred to, had a sudden, sharp flash of recollection when Athos had spoken of their enemies of old, started to remember with each word Anne spoke. The hypnosis had set in motion a process she was not able to control or stop any more. She might not remember everything from the past, might never be able to recollect her old life completely, she had no influence on what memories were brought back, and when. But a word or gesture or action could conjure up memories that were to her like a dream. Squeezing Anne's hand for support, she looked at d'Artagnan. Anne's voice faded to a soft murmur, being nothing more than the background to the scene that unfolded before Constance's mind's eye like a dream sequence.

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"There's no other option, Constance. It needs to be done."

Constance sighed. "I see your reasons, Your Majesty, but it's so dangerous. And then that woman. She can't be trusted."

"Tréville trusted her enough to engage her services. And I do, too. Go and fetch her, but make sure no one sees you. Please. I don't trust anyone else to deliver my message, I'm surrounded by enemies."

Constance sighed once more, then she rose, curtseyed and left. She wasn't sure if what the Queen intended to do was the right thing. She only knew that the person the Queen had chosen to achieve this goal was the most hated and most distrustful woman she had ever met. In fact, Constance loathed her with all her heart. Nevertheless, she would do what was asked of her and deliver the message.

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"You summoned me, Your Majesty," Milady purred, stepping out of the shadow.

The Queen didn't turn a hair, but Constance flinched. Neither Anne nor Constance had heard Milady enter, it was unnerving how the woman was able to materialise out of nowhere, she knew her way around the palace's secret passages like no one else. Probably a remnant of the time when she had warmed the late King's bed.

The Queen chose to not think about that humiliating time now. "I have a job for you," she answered nonchalantly, regally, taking her seat by the window.

"I presumed so, otherwise you wouldn't have asked for me. Who am I going to have to kill this time?"

Anyone else would have glowered upon such a blatant reply. Anne had every right to have her hanged for such disrespect, but Milady was right. The Queen needed her service and Milady knew it. There was no beating around the bush. "It's a delicate job, and no one must ever know of this conversation. Your life is as much at stake as ours. You'd be wise to remember that."

"It's not the first job I've accomplished for the crown. Who is it you want to see dead?"

The Queen hesitated, looking at Constance for support. In moments like this, she desperately missed Tréville at her side, his guidance and support, his unswerving loyalty and fortitude. And Aramis' love and presence. She had no one inside these walls whom she could trust unconditionally, no one to rely on. Only Constance.

Finally, Constance nodded.

The Queen looked back at Milady. "Maria de' Medici and the Duke of Buckingham have to die."

Milady's eyes widened, a flicker of shock and surprise flittering over her features. "You want me to kill your mother-in-law? I hear the Duke of Buckingham is the English King's protégé, what's your business with him?"

"My business with him mustn't concern you. I would order you to kill Charles himself, but I'm sure even you would find it hard to come anywhere near him."

Milady showed no emotions, but behind her calm facade she was shocked to the core to hear the Queen speak such words. She would never have thought the docile, delicate-looking Spanish woman would have it in her to order regicide, even if it was not the first contract killing she had ordered as queen regent.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to get anywhere near the Duke of Buckingham. As far as I know he's at the English court, I would have to travel to England for such an assignment."

"He'll be in Paris next month to accompany Henrietta back to England, but I don't want him to be killed on French soil, or at least not in Paris. It will be a disaster for the political relationship between France and England anyway, the more so if he dies on French soil."

"You mean the non-existent relationship" Milady said mockingly. "I heard the relationship between France and England is frigid, to put it mildly."

"You hear a lot, it seems," the Queen replied frostily and rose, walking over to her writing table. "Don't concern yourself with the political intrigues or the reasons behind my decisions. All you need to do is carry out the order without delay."

"May I at least get to know why de' Medici and the Duke of Buckingham have to die? What have they done to incur Your Majesty's wrath?"

Anne studied Milady, weighing her words. She was nothing more than a hired contract killer, not here to get an insight of the political scheming and intrigues at court. She was an underling, even though a dangerous one, who had to obey orders without questioning. Yet, Anne had the feeling it might be wise to make known the reasons why both had to be disposed of. As much as she despised this woman for the role she had played in her humiliation while Louis had still been alive she had to admit that Milady de Winter was neither foolish nor careless.

"I must protect my son. Maria de' Medici is planning to claim the throne, with the help and support of none other than the English king. Charles thinks I'm weak and incapable of ruling this country. He thinks he has a God given right to rule this land anyway. He would rather die than see France fall into Spanish hands, he hates Philip even more than Louis did. And it seems nowadays everyone thinks it's only a matter of time until I hand over the power over France to my brother without hesitation. Charles will do everything to seize power over France. I have no doubt he has already signed the death-warrant for my son and I." Anne had spoken louder than before, rage boiling inside her like a living thing. "I must protect my son, and France, at all costs. You must succeed! Buckingham is Charles right hand, he will already have set in motion plans for our murders. With Buckingham dead, Charles will have to rethink his strategy and find someone else who is capable of commanding willing men to disempower and kill a foreign sovereign. I'm sure Maria de' Medici has already gathered a high number of men who think they still owe her allegiance, and I have no doubt they are all ready for the planned coup d'état. With Buckingham and Maria gone, they will have to start all over again if they want to seize power from me, and it will show Charles that I'm someone not to be underestimated."

"My god," escaped Milady's lips before she could hold the words back. She looked at the Queen, long and intensely. Out of nowhere she felt the irrational urge to bow to this woman and swear her allegiance. This woman who was, after all, still her sovereign. Not that she had ever cared for that fact. She chased away that silly thought but couldn't help acknowledging the strength she had never expected to find in Anne of Austria.

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"You're not serious."

The men stared at Anne, surprise, shock and disbelief on their faces. Athos had voiced what everyone thought.

Anne frowned, then her astonishment turned into anger. "Is it a problem for you that I hired your ex-wife to do what had to be done? I inherited the service of Milady de Winter from Tréville. He didn't hesitate for one minute to employ her service for the benefit of France, so I don't see any reason why..." Anne was interrupted by Athos.

"No, I mean... Buckingham? Really? Maria de' Medici, that was you? You're responsible for their deaths? You are the one behind the murders?"

Regaining her composure, Anne nodded. "Yes. I gave order to have both killed."

"Protect our son? What do you mean by that? Was there more than one attempt on his life?" Aramis looked deeply hurt at what they had just heard, though it was probably less for the reason that his former lover had been involved in the deaths of Maria de' Medici and Lord Buckingham, but more because it involved the safety of the young King.

"I remember," Constance muttered before Anne could reply. She looked at Aramis, then to Anne. Uncertainly, she continued, "There had already been rumours that there was more Spanish blood running through the dauphin's veins than was supposed to due to his mother's Spanish heritage. Rumours that he was not from the line of Bourbon. Gossip that he had illegitimately ascended the throne."

Anne nodded. "I was sure Maria de' Medici was responsible for these rumours, though I never found out what exactly she knew."

"The Musketeers. They had found out something?" Constance furrowed her brow. Shrugging her shoulder, she added, "Or maybe not. I can't remember, it was just a sudden inspiration."

"No, you're right. There had been a murder attempt on the King's life a few weeks earlier. One or two of the attackers survived and were questioned by the Musketeers. Brujon was convinced the men had been paid by my mother-in-law, though he could never prove it. And men who were assumed to be working for Buckingham were seen with Maria's spies. There was a growing number of people openly calling for a French-blooded regent. And then I got help from the most unexpected side. Henrietta."

"Henrietta?" Porthos asked, uncomprehending.

"Louis' sister, my sister-in-law. She had been married to King Charles years before and returned to France for Louis' funeral and the coronation ceremony for the first time since her marriage. She hated her mother almost as much as I did and told me of plans that her mother intended to claim the French throne again, with the help of the English king. King Charles supported her unequivocally but hesitated to openly back those plans. The Duke of Buckingham as his closest adviser was entrusted to take care of everything."

A moment of silence followed, everyone mulling over what they had just heard until Aramis spoke again. "And you not once thought of telling us about this all? Telling meof these things?"

"There hadn't been a reason for it so far." Anne raised her chin in defence of her decisions.

"Oh, I see. And Athos and I nearly getting killed by Grimaud was no reason to rethink keeping such secrets? How can we protect you if we don't know what enemies we're dealing with? How should we know whom to be aware of if we have no clue who else might be after us?" Aramis growled at Anne.

"I thought there was no need for it. None of you had anything to do with the decisions I made then. They were my enemies, not yours." For the first time when talking to Aramis there was a hint of anger in the former Queen's voice, an air of defiance surrounding her. "I did what had to be done to assure our son's future."

"And what of Henri's future? How can we keep him safe and out of harm's way if more and more old enemies turn up, seeking revenge? We need to know these things!"

Barely restraining herself, Anne answered in a low voice, "You've not the first idea how hard it was, standing alone against a council full of autocratic aristocrats craving power, not even trying to hide the hate and disdain they felt for a Spanish-born regent."

"Maybe we should stop blaming each other for things nobody can change. What we need to do now is concentrate on the facts we know and try to find a solution. It's certainly more information than I had hoped for, but on the other hand it's nothing we can't tackle." Athos looked around, hoping his words would help ease the situation. "Let's sit down and find out what we can do."

"I think that's a good idea," said Porthos, slumping down on the nearest chair.

Everyone started moving chairs, one after another taking a seat around the table. Only Aramis remained standing by the windows. Suddenly, without a word, he stormed out of the room.

Porthos quickly glance at Athos before he rose. With a sigh, he went after Aramis.

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Aramis headed for his office but stopped abruptly when he saw Henri playing on the floor with Charlène. He watched them. Charlène, making a wrong assumption, turned her head and signalled that everything was under control, that Henri was happy and occupied and that there was no need to interrupt their meeting. When Aramis heard the door to the meeting room open again, he moved, quickly walking to his office.

"Aramis," Porthos called, following his friend. "What's wrong? Why are you so angry with her?"

With another glance towards Charlène and Henri, Aramis grabbed Porthos by the shoulder, dragging him inside the room and closed the door. "What's wrong?" Aramis spat. "She kept all these secrets, yet she must have known how dangerous it is hiding this from us. Why didn't she at least tell me? I nearly died by Grimaud's hands not even four weeks ago and now she's telling us there are many more old enemies we didn't know anything about? Don't we already have enough bloodhounds on our trail?"

"I don't know whether she hoped this would never affect any of us in this life or if she felt miserable about the decisions she had to make. I'm sure she has her reasons for not telling anyone and it was certainly damned hard to make those decisions at all, and none of us were there for support and guidance. But what I know is that she was only trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Aramis mocked. "You don't say. It seems it hasn't worked well with Grimaud."

"Protect yourself from you," Portos growled.

Aramis was taken aback. "From me? How? By not telling me anything of possible dangers? I can very well do without it! You know how dangerous Maria de' Medici was back then. And even planning regicide? I wouldn't forget about it, not in a thousand years. So tell me how she planned to protect any of us by not telling the truth."

"She never gave order for regicide, she only thought about the possibility. King Charles will never have heard even a whisper about any plans. And he was the one who had already approved Anne and her son's elimination, so he really would be wise to keep quiet. But that's not the point!"

"Oh, and what's the point then?" Aramis hissed. He had talked himself into rage, barely able to keep his voice low any more.

"The point is that she knows you well. She knew you would blame yourself again for not being there for her and your son when they would have needed you most. For leaving them alone, even if you damn well know neither of us had any choice. If we had been able, if it had been within our power, every single one of us would have gone home after the war. Alive. It was a capricious and cruel fate that we had to die on the very day that ended the war. But it can't be changed. And hard times call for hard measures. If Tréville had been there, if we had been there, any of us would have made the very same decision, we would have ridden off to kill the English king personally without batting an eye. You know this. The only difference is that we weren't there and she needed to make up her mind on her own. And that's why she never said a word. She knew how this would niggle and eat away at you once you heard everything."

Aramis stared at his friend, the things the other had said slowly settling. "You're right," he said finally, his voice void of any emotion. "I should have been there. It adds to the long list of failures and wrong decisions in my life. She can't be blamed for anything, it's I who failed." He stepped past Porthos, opening the door. "I need to get some fresh air." With a few quick strides he was past Henri and Charlène, not even casting a glance at them, and out of the door.

Porthos watched him go, knowing it would be a fruitless effort to follow him. He would not listen to any argumentation now.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Aramis stepped out of the door, for a moment halting on the threshold to button his jacket and to decide which direction to take. He turned right to follow Rue Lagrange down to the Seine, turning up the collar of his coat against the cold. If one looked close enough, a slight limp in Aramis' gait was discernible, a remnant from his latest encounter with Grimaud, not healing as well as Aramis hoped for and tried to make others believe. A dull pain in his upper thigh haunted him from time to time and if this was the case, unbeknownst to himself he then started dragging his leg. What he was also unaware of was the shadow that left the safe cover of a dark gateway a few metres away from LaFère Security on the opposite side of the street. A shadow that started following Aramis along Rue Lagrange, keeping a safe distance between the Musketeer and itself.

A/N

To my knowledge Maria de' Medici was not murdered but died alone and impoverished 1642 in exile in Cologne in The Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation, the only land she had turned to that was willing to harbour the exiled former Queen of France. Prior to her death, she had lived at the English Court, but eventually King Charles I (who was married to Maria's daughter Henriette) asked her to leave England because of the hostilities he experienced, not least because he hosted the exiled Maria de' Medici. After leaving England, the Spanish King Philip IV (who was married to Maria's daughter Isabella) denied her request to return to the Spanish Netherlands, therefore she had to seek refuge elsewhere. For this story, she lived a few years longer and was still in close contact with King Charles I, planning another coup d'état together with him, and was finally murdered by Milady de Winter in 1645.

George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham, was stabbed to death in 1628 by John Felton. For this story, we disregard this fact and assume that he lived for a few more years and was murdered around 1645 by Milady de Winter.