Hey guys, here's the next one. Thanks to dg101 for the review on chapter 10.

Porthos made his way through the house, a mug of ale freshly procured from the kitchen in his hands; a soft whirring sound caught his attention and he made his way towards it, finally locating the source in the study.

Eleanor sat near the window, a spinning wheel that Porthos had not noticed before in front of her. He watched, fascinated as her foot moved, setting the wheel to spin as her fingers deftly pulled at the combed wool in her hand; drawing the fibres steadily towards the bobbin. As she spun, she hummed to herself, rocking gently back and forth to the tune and moving in and out of a shaft of sunlight that shone through the window, turning her skin to marble and her hair to fire. For a moment, Porthos was mesmerized, her steady movement and soft humming captivating him; he winced as a floorboard creaked under his foot and the humming stopped, breaking the spell as her head tilted towards him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's alright; I was only doing it for the sake of something to do. My mother taught me to spin, more than likely to keep me out of trouble I think. She said that being blind did not mean that I could avoid every household task." She smiled fondly.

"She sounds like a good woman."

"She was; she never gave up on me like some had advised her to. She was determined that a lack of sight should not stop me. Father always said that she was like a lioness with a cub." Her smile had grown sad and for some reason he could not fathom, her sadness touched Porthos and he determined to change the subject.

"Did she teach you that tune you were humming?" He was delighted when the question had the desired affect; Eleanor's face brightened.

"No, that's the tune to one of my favourite dances."

"Seems to be a favourite thing of yours, dancing."

"I love to dance, but only when it's not for other people's entertainment."

"Was a good dance though." Porthos could not keep the admiration from his voice.

"The right partner helped."

"He did well. It's funny, I've known him for five, nearly six years and he never let on that he could dance."

"He's noble born; he would have had a dance master almost as soon as he could walk. He was reluctant to do it though."

"He's a good man, if the Captain's in a tight spot; there ain't nothing he won't do to help, same if any of us was in trouble."

"I thought as much." She smiled softly and Porthos looked at her, unsure as to her meaning. She had continued to spin as they spoke and now reached down to the basket at her feet as she came near the end of the wool in her lap. When she frowned, Porthos saw that the basket was empty and she reached out to stop the wheel. Sighing, she turned on her stool to face him. "Well that's done with for the moment then; tell me, Porthos, do you dance?"

"Nah, not much cause to learn if you grow up on the streets; wouldn't mind learning someday though. Aramis says it helps with sword work."

"Yes, I've heard that too." She tilted her head at him, one corner of her mouth raised in a half smile. "Would you like me to teach you the basics?"

"Well I..." Porthos was unsure, but then again, he reasoned, it wasn't as though she could watch his first attempts and laugh at him. "If you're sure."

"Well it's not as though we both have anywhere else to be." She smiled and stood, leading him from the study and to the dining room.

She began to teach him the basics of the dance, moving with him across the room and guiding him by feel. She was patient and kind, not concerned if he needed to practice steps multiple times. As they danced, they spoke and laughed, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company and learning something new.

It was nearly sunset when Athos came to the house to find Porthos and Eleanor sat in the dining room, each with a glass of wine in front of them. Across the table were platters with bread, meats and cheese. Athos was surprised to see Eleanor looking more relaxed than he had anticipated; he had seen Aramis earlier in the day and his friend had told him of the girls' unhappiness and he had almost expected to find her pacing again. As he stepped into the room, Eleanor's head turned towards him, a smile forming on her features as she recognised his footsteps.

"There's still plenty of food left, Monsieur, if you have not eaten." Anna came bustling into the room, addressing Athos as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Right, my dear, there's a bath ready upstairs for you; all that dancing will have left your hair with as many tangles as an unattended ball of yarn." Eleanor grimaced, but rose to her feet without protest.

"Goodnight, Porthos." Without another word she turned and meekly followed Anna from the room. Athos turned to Porthos, one corner of his mouth quirked in a smile.

"Dancing?" Looking at him, Porthos could see that his friend was merely curious and not mocking.

"She started teaching me the basics; not sure how good I was."

"It takes practice; the best of dancers stumbled when they first started learning." Athos sat in one of the chairs and reached for the platter of cheese.

"Guess you're right." Porthos paused, his gaze sweeping over Athos and concern in his dark eyes. "You look done in." There were dark circles under Athos' eyes and his face was more pale than usual.

"I stayed up with Treville all night to look through the records."

"Have you had any rest?"

"Some, I'll be alright." He looked up as Porthos sighed.

"Honestly, you and Aramis are gonna be the death of me; both of you believe that you can exist without sleep." He stood, picking up his hat from the table. "Get some rest tonight, Anna's made up a bed in one of the other rooms."

"I can't, what if something happens?"

"Then you'll wake up. Treville said we could sleep while we were here; he must think that she's safe enough in the house."

"Alright, I'll get some sleep later." Porthos nodded, satisfied and pushed his hat onto his head before making his way to the door, leaving Athos alone at the table.

Eleanor shivered as Anna poured another jug of water over her head; the bath was growing cold and her wet hair lay across her back, making her shudder.

"There, that's the last of the soap; come on, out." Anna reached out, taking Eleanor's arm and helping her out of the bath. Quickly she helped the girl dry off the water that cascaded down her body before helping her into a night robe and sitting her down to brush the tangles from her hair.

Athos heard the scream from the bedroom and was on his feet in an instant, taking the stairs two at a time. He burst through the door to Eleanor's room, stopping in horror at the scene in front of him. Eleanor stood, tears running down her cheeks as her hair was gripped from behind, pulling her head up and exposing her pale throat to the wicked knife blade held against it. Athos looked past her to her captor, feeling his heart stop when he saw who it was.

Milady stood there, as dark and beautiful as when he had last seen her and had granted her freedom. She stared back at him, a triumphant smile on her face and her eyes cold.

"So this is what you protect." Her gaze flicked to Eleanor. "Well she's a beauty, I'll give you that; I never thought red heads would be to your tastes."

"Anne..."

"Don't, Athos, can't you see? It's perfect, if she dies here, now, under your guard then that's it; your Captain goes mad and his trust in you will be destroyed. It's like two for the price of one." She pulled savagely on Eleanor's hair and the girl cried out as her head was forced back. Before Athos could move, Milady's wrist had flicked, sending the bright blade across Eleanor's throat. He shouted out, a wordless noise of horror as Eleanor grasped at her throat, dark blood running between her fingers as she crumpled to the floor.

He reached her in a few strides, almost heedless of Milady as she fled. Eleanor still moved, her chest rising and falling in pained gasps as she fought for breath, the blood flowing over both of their hands in what seemed to be a never ending stream.

Athos sat up, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps and his eyes wild as he looked around the dark room. Quickly he swung his legs off of the bed, wiping his hand across the cold sweat on his skin. Although he told himself that it was just a nightmare, much like any of the others he had suffered, it had seemed too real and he needed to reassure himself. Quietly he made his way down the hall, not bothering with a lamp to guide him. He paused outside Eleanor's door, taking a deep breath and fighting to regain control of his heart that still beat a wild tattoo against his ribs. Carefully so as not to make a sound, he opened the door, fearful of what he might see. Eleanor slept peacefully; her features soft in the pale shaft of moonlight that shone through the window and her breathing deep and even. Athos swept his gaze about the room before looking once more at her; satisfied at last, he slipped back out into the hall and closed the door softly behind him, knowing that he would have no more sleep this night.

It was a few hours later when Athos sat at the head of the dining table, a glass of wine in his hand; he had almost, but not quite consumed the whole bottle, unable to shake the images of his nightmare from his mind. He looked up as soft footfalls sounded in the hall and leapt to his feet as Eleanor stepped into the room, a diaphanous robe over her nightgown that floated behind her as she moved. He had seen once in one of his brother's storybooks a picture of a fairy queen and he thought that now, with her red hair tumbling down her back and her pale skin almost luminous in the shimmering candlelight that she could have been that fairy, stepping barefoot over the bare flagstones of the floor. Her head tilted towards him as his chair scraped across the flagstones, breaking the momentary spell and she smiled.

"You don't have to stand every time I walk into a room you know."

"An ingrained habit." He gave a wry smile and settled back into his chair.

"Ah yes." She made her way around the table to the seat next to him, her fingers tracing lightly over the grain of the wood. He did not quite manage to move the wine bottle before her fingers touched it and was forced to catch it quickly as it tilted dangerously. Carefully he set it down, watching as Eleanor settled herself into the chair, the bottom of her gown pooling in white folds at her feet.

"Was there something you needed?"

"No, I merely woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."

"I'll leave you alone."

"If I wanted to be alone I would have stayed in my room. However, I see you already have company." Her fingers motioned to where the wine bottle had been.

"I..." Although Athos had assumed that she would hear about his drinking at some point, he was for some reason, thrown off guard now that she knew.

"Don't worry, I'm not judging you. Although a whole bottle and no slur in your speech suggests a hard head born of practice."

"I have my reasons." He could not bring himself to tell her that this time, he drank because he had dreamt of her.

"I'm sure you do, and I won't ask what they are." She tilted her head slowly to one side as though she were considering him. "I only wonder what could have happened to damage such a good heart." Her statement, voiced so softly, completely caught him off guard and he glanced at her sharply.

"You said you would not ask."

"I said I would not ask, I did not say that I wouldn't listen if you chose to tell me."

"Listen you might, but you are mistaken; my heart is not good." One corner of her mouth turned up at his denial and she let out a breath that might have been a laugh.

"And that is where you are wrong."

"You seem very sure of yourself." He watched her face as he spoke, noting the small smile that had formed at his words but realising that she was not laughing at him, more acknowledging him.

"I have no sight so cannot read a person as you would; I have had to learn to read a person's character in other ways, and I have learned well, just ask my father."

"You're still wrong." He couldn't think of a suitable counter argument, not without listing some of the less honourable deeds in his past that still haunted his sleep and he would not burden her with those. However, that small smile still lingered, almost as though she knew something he did not.

"I wonder, would your friends agree?"

"Well you have me there." He could not deny her; Aramis and Porthos made an annoying habit of reminding him of what virtues they believed he had and attempting to change his opinion of himself. It was disconcerting; the girl's observations were like well aimed musket balls, although he sensed that they were not aimed to hurt.

"I thought I might."

"You're still wrong." He would not concede the point.

"Am I? A high born noble in the musketeers with what seems to be an unhealthy level of self loathing and an empty bottle of wine says differently." She had hit close to the mark with that one and it unnerved him at just how close she was getting and he decided to return fire.

"You talk of my damaged heart; what about your own?" There was that smile again and the breath that sounded like a derisive laugh.

"Ah well, it takes one to know one I suppose. Let us just say that marriage is not always a happy affair." Her eyes were distant, her mind drifting back to the past for a moment.

"Your husband mistreated you?"

"Luc believed that his wife should be completely under control."

"Then I would say he married the wrong woman." Athos could not stop himself from smiling at this; the very thought of trying to control Eleanor in any way was more than he cared to contemplate. Having seen her temper he was certain it could not be done.

"You would say right." She paused, chewing her lip as she thought, almost as though she were wondering how much she could tell him. "I will not go into detail, but God forgive me when I say that I did not lament him when a horse kicked him to death."

"I can only imagine that both you and the horse had good reason." He would not have said he was shocked; it would take a great deal more than that to shock him, but he had not expected such a revelation and he sensed that it was not something that a great many people knew.

"I must ask you, Athos, please do not tell my father what I have told you."

"He doesn't know?"

"No, and I never intend him to." The pain and sudden worry in her eyes was such that even if he had wished to, he could not refuse her.

"You have my word."

"Thank you." She smiled gratefully and reached towards him, groping slightly until she found his hand that rested on the table top; she squeezed it gently, her gratitude apparent. After a moment she stood. "I think I had better go back to bed, or else Anna will know that I haven't slept; I swear even if she's not here she knows everything."

"The sign of a good housekeeper." He smiled when she laughed. "Goodnight, Eleanor."

"Goodnight, Athos." She traced her way along the table top until she reached the arm of his chair and used it to guide herself around the table. Athos did not move as she made her way around behind him, fearful of crushing her fingers. As she traced her way along the back of his chair, the tips of her fingers brushed his back through his shirt and he tried his hardest not to shiver. After a moment she moved away and made her way to the door without incident. Before she left the room a thought struck him and he spoke.

"What happened to the horse?" Eleanor paused, her head turned back over her shoulder towards him.

"She's the one I brought with me to Paris." With a quick smile she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Eleanor made her way softly through the house, counting the steps as she made her way up towards her room, her fingers trailing along the smooth wood of the banister. Once she reached her room she slipped inside and shut the door quietly behind her, hearing the latch drop into place with a soft click. She turned, pressing her back to the door and relishing the solid feel of the wood against her back, grounding her and allowing her to gather her thoughts. During her time in Paris so far she had grown to know the characters of her father's favourite four; Aramis, a romantic guided by both his faith and his friends, restless as a summer breeze. Porthos, strong and solid as the earth on the outside with a tender soul at his core. D'Artagnan, young and brash with a fiery temper, held in check by the guidance of his friends. Then there was Athos...Athos as mysterious as the sea; he puzzled her greatly, she could tell that he was honourable, as were they all, but there was an underlying sadness that ran through him like a river, evident at all times. She could hear it always in his quiet reservation and every nuance of his voice and she had never heard him laugh, all of the others were quick in their joy, laughing often and although she had heard Athos make a wry comment, a smile evident in his voice, he had never laughed in her presence.

She sighed, making her way across the room to her bed and pulling the heavy coverlet over herself. As she settled back to sleep she felt a great sadness for Athos and wished that she could find a way to ease his sorrow.

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