"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."

Helen Keller

CHAPTER XXVI

D'Artagnan lay curled on his side, shivering uncontrollably. A small shaft of light shone under the door into his cell, and he closed his eyes to avoid seeing the horrible images that had appeared before his eyes over and over again during the past few hours.

The rat that had tormented him earlier in his imprisonment now seemed like a cherished friend. He was familiar, and had ceased to be a threat. D'Artagnan had decided to name him Alexandre, after his deceased father. Since the conversation he had had with one of his captors earlier, he had not ceased thinking about his father. He had found it remarkable that his guard, whom he had initially distrusted, had been incredibly compassionate, and had given him so much insight into the death of his cherished parent.

The musketeer had been given a foul-smelling liquid to drink several hours ago. The guard had told him that it would prevent infection from his bites. He had resisted swallowing it at first, but as the pain in his leg had worsened progressively, he had made the decision to drink it. At first he had felt nothing, but after thirty minutes or so, the walls of his prison had begun to ripple in bands that had continuously changed colors. The effect had been one of ethereal beauty, and the musketeer had not been able to stop staring at the kaleidoscope surrounding him.

At that point, the young man named Georges had come into the cell, bearing a tray of delicacies that made d'Artagnan's mouth water. There were cheeses, cold chicken, warm bread, and a small carafe of wine. As d'Artagnan ravenously ate, Georges had talked companionably to him. He had proven to be incredibly wise, and had been able to fill in details of the circumstances surrounding Alexandre's death that had left the musketeer dumbfounded. When he had been informed that some of those responsible were known to him, he had been outraged beyond belief. Even now, he felt tremors of fury run through his body.

"They will suffer, as my father suffered. I will make sure of that."

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Aramis kissed the top of Charlotte's head and drew her onto his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" he asked carefully. "After all, you have been married less than six weeks."

"Well, I suppose it is difficult to know for certain. After all, my courses have never been exactly regular…" She stopped and blushed to the roots of her hair. "Am I really having this conversation with you?"

"Believe it or not, I am aware of how babies are made," replied Aramis dryly. "What have you noticed?"

"Other than the lack of my cycle? I have been more emotional, and some things seem…bigger." Aramis involuntarily glanced down at her bodice.

"Aramis!"

"You said it, not me!" he protested with a grin, then sobered. "If your hunch proves true, how do you feel about the prospect of becoming a mother?"

"I—I don't know. A week ago, I would have been ecstatic...but now.."

The musketeer gave her a grim glance. "Has Athos been less than a gentleman? If he has been anything other than the most tender of lovers, I swear that I will correct that behavior immediately!"

"No, no! He is—" she stopped and flushed once again, "-everything I wanted, and more. It is just that his world—and mine by extension—has been turned upside down by Annette and Catalina appearing here. He is-" she hesitated, "—obsessed with the child, and I cannot blame him. I just wonder if…" Her voice trailed off into silence.

"Wonder if…" Aramis prompted.

"If he will ever feel the same about any child we may be lucky enough to be blessed with."

"Ah, therein lies the crux of the matter." Aramis was silent for a moment. "I imagine it is difficult enough to know that you are not the only woman that Athos has ever loved—but to see him coming face to face with the woman who was his first love, then meeting his daughter….it must be very painful, especially as you are still newlyweds. By all rights, Athos should be unable to take his eyes off you. After all, you have hardly had a moment to yourselves since your wedding night."

"You understand," whispered Charlotte in wonder, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Does it make me a horrible person to think that? I want so much for him to be able to get to know and love Catalina, and of course I would like him to have good relations with her mother, but a part of me that feels very small and very selfish wants them to recede into the background again as quickly as possible. And if Andrés becomes Master Falconer, there is no chance of that happening."

"Then you must find some way to deal with it," responded Aramis practically. "My advice would be to be the woman Athos fell head over heels in love with. Be your confident, caring, amusing, gentle self. You have no reason to be jealous or insecure, so do not give him reason to think that you are, even if thoughts cross your mind from time to time. Remind him with your actions how lucky he is to have you in his life…and his bed."

"You are incorrigible!"

"But you adore me anyway," he replied with a grin.

"Let's just say you have grown on me." She hesitated for a moment. "Perhaps it would be better if I say nothing to Athos about possibly being pregnant until I am quite sure. I could not bear to sound a false alarm, especially with…"

"What?" Aramis felt her body tense against him.

"Nothing." She realized she had made a mistake, for he had been about to drowse off, but was now more alert.

"Charlotte." His voice was reproving, and reminded her of the schoolmaster in her village from when she was a girl. Knowing there was no way out, she reluctantly told him of the notice that Athos had received from the Archangels.

Aramis muttered under his breath in Spanish, and Charlotte guessed from his tone that the words were not charitable. "Why did he not tell us?" he demanded.

"I think he didn't want to worry you," she said lamely.

"Well, he has succeeded in doing exactly that." Aramis was now irritable as well as fatigued.

"I should never have said anything," Charlotte murmured. "You need your rest. I will stay here for a moment until you are relaxed again, then I will return to my quarters to wait for Athos. And Aramis-"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for listening. I don't know what I would do without you."

Within a few minutes, they were both fast asleep.

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"I don't think I have any trolls or dragons here at the moment," replied Catalina after a moment of serious thought. "But I would like to hear a story about some. Have you ever fought any?" she inquired.

"Of a sort," replied Athos. "But they may look a bit different from the ones you imagine."

"Oh." She was quiet for an instant, then moved on quickly to another topic. "Why is your uniform so dark? Are you not allowed to have a different colour? Like pink or purple?"

Annette laughed outright, then quickly hid her smile behind her hand.

"I suppose I could if I was determined to do so," answered the musketeer slowly. "But it might be difficult to inspire fear in an enemy if I were dressed in pink leather. It would sort of ruin the image of a musketeer as a seasoned warrior."

"Why?!" demanded Catalina. "I like pink, and I think I can fight as well as any boy. Shall I speak to your captain for you?"

Athos fought back the urge to laugh hysterically. I am in love with this girl already.

"Tell you what. If I do decide to go with pink and I need you to put in a word for me, I'll let you know. Is that a deal?" He held out his hand, and Catalina shook it solemnly.

"I promise, Monsieur."

"You may call me uncle, if you like." The words slipped out of his mouth as if by magic, completely against all the rules of his habitual reserve.

"Uncle Athos. I like the sound of that," the little girl declared. "My father had four brothers, but two died when they were very little-and I rarely see my Uncle Tomas. I should love to have an uncle in France."

"Then you shall have one." Athos granted her one of the rare warm smiles that made him indescribably attractive. "Now, I think your mother needs you to get ready for bed."

"Mama said you were a very good story teller. Can you please tell me a story? Just a short one? Please?"

"Is that permissible, Mama?" Athos asked Annette gravely, a pang of what-might-have-been hitting him as he imagined what it would have been like to have married Annette and to have experienced this domestic scene on a regular basis.

"If your audience promises to go to bed just as soon as you finish…no pleading for sequels allowed."

"I promise!" Catalina bounced onto the couch by the fire and promptly fished out a worn blue and green woolen blanket from behind a pillow, wrapping it around her small frame. Athos felt his throat constrict at the sight of the piece of fabric.

"Is that…" his voice caught, and he stopped.

"Yes," Annette replied, her voice low. "It is the one you bought for me at the fair…the one we…"

Were wrapped in when you conceived Catalina. His mind finished the sentence, and he looked up at her, tears pricking at his eyes.

"Once upon a time," he began, his voice a trifle unsteady, "there was a very shy, very beautiful girl who lived in the forest in a land far, far away. She was a wise, gentle soul, but looked different from most people. Because of this, sometimes she was treated quite horribly by people who were not very kind."

"How did she look different?" piped up Catalina. "Did she have two different color eyes, like Mama?"

"Indeed she did," replied Athos, his voice soft. "However, this princess-what shall we call her?"

"Princess-Forget-me-not!"

"That is—" Athos choked, "—a very original name."

"It's my favorite flower!" announced Catalina.

"Then Princess Forget-me-not it is," the musketeer agreed equably.

"Can I decide what color her eyes were?" asked the little girl.

"Of course."

"Pink and-purple!"

Welcome to having a very small, very precious daughter, Athos thought, amazed by how quickly he had become enchanted by this delightful child.

Next time...Denise becomes uneasy when she attracts the attention of an unwanted admirer, while Athos is alarmed to find Charlotte missing from their quarters.