Writer's block has been beaten, even though we decided to instead cut out something and save it for the next chapter. I've given up on increasing the amount of postings. The chapters will happen in their own due time and forcing them only results in bad writing.

As I am finally going into my last year of undergraduate studies, I am going to be a maniac, but we will try to keep going. This thing is getting to be a insane long standing project isn't it?

See you in September!

MlledeLaRoseBlanche

Another day, another round of the garden, Athos thought. He had been taking Orianne for daily walks, even pulling her away from the Queen's promenade to privately indulge in her newly discovered charms. The trees, with their leafy curtains, offered enough shadow to hide them so long as they made it there, which was much trickier than one could expect between Thérèse struggling for his affection and Roderic making efforts to reconcile with Orianne for an argument Athos still did not comprehend.

The sun shone through the leaves that were turning into pleasant shades of red and gold, causing Orianne to wrinkle her nose slightly as she looked up at Athos' face. "I wouldn't have thought that we would still have some warm days," she said, as Athos spared a glance at the antics of the three year old head of blondish curls that was bouncing and dancing around them. "I sometimes forget that you've only just recently moved into Paris," he responded with a half-smile, securing her arm a little more around his own as they followed a path. "I suppose you must have seen winter come much faster where you were before, in Lorraine, I believe?"

"By now, it would be much colder." She had a little shiver and pressed closer to him. He happily obliged the warmth and indulged in kissing her lips in the process, leaving her several shades pinker than before. He smirked slightly.

"Look!" Thérèse chose that moment to bound into their path and show her latest prize to Athos; a rather large and slimy looking snail, which was crawling on the back of her tiny hand, its antennae extended as far as they could despite her rambunctiousness. Orianne became slightly green. "That's… very nice, Thérèse…"

"Hold it?" The little girl asked, lifting it as high as she could reach towards the young woman, who was desperately fighting the urge to run away screaming. Athos had to bite his lip to avoid grinning at the situation. Finally taking pity on his companion, he lowered himself to one knee and scooped Thérèse, sitting her on his other leg. "What have we here? Do you know what this is, child?"

"What it?" She asked him, settling on his thigh and examining the creature at eye level, her lips pursed in a thoughtful pout.

"It's called a snail." She tilted her head at him. "A… sail?" she tried, after a moment of hesitation. He grinned at her. "Almost. A snail," he repeated, enunciating clearly. "They come out where it's really wet, and you don't see them often when it is sunny. Where did you find this one?"

She extended her other hand and pointed in the vague direction of a large rose bush, still focused on the gastropod. "Over there," she muttered. Orianne was still keeping well away from them, behind and to the left of Athos, but watching him intently. He glanced back at her standing there, offered her a quick smile, before returning his attention to the girl on his knee. She poked the snail curiously and it withdrew swiftly into its spiral shell, which she reached for when it fell on to the grass, no longer sticking as easily to her slimed finger.

"Perhaps you should go return him home. He needs the wet places to live," he said, gently setting her back on her feet and handing her the creature. "Run along and look after him. We will be right here waiting." He stood as Thérèse waddled away in her dress, the hem of which was brown from the collected dirt of her exploration. He felt a hand at his elbow and Orianne was now at his side as Thérèse went farther away with her prize.

"She likes you very much you know," she said slowly, "and you know so much about the world. Why have you never had children?"

"I have never married," he said hesitantly. She tilted her head and considered him for a moment or two before looking away down the path at Thérèse who, on returning to them, had been distracted by a white butterfly.

"Children are precious," she said with a wistful air. "Perhaps someday, should I marry, I will have as sweet a girl as Thérèse." Athos could not halt his mind rushing ahead of his sense and he felt his palms suddenly break into a chilly sweat within his gloves.

"You are then hoping to wed someday?" he asked her, coughing afterwards to clear his throat of the lump there. She gave him a small smile.

"I almost was married, Athos. You know how well that became. Perhaps it is not meant for me." At her words, he looked away, not wishing to let her see the twinge of guilt that assuredly flashed in his eyes.

"About that…" With difficulty, he brought his gaze back to her, feeling suddenly and awfully like a child caught misbehaving. "This is… rather hard for me to say, but… I'm the one who caused the tailor's son to withdraw his request for you."

Her eyes bore into him with a harsh disbelief and the aggrieved expression on her face kept from him from trying to speak on his own behalf. They had stopped walking; she was frozen in place like a breathing statue. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to find the elusive words to explain but he quickly stopped as he suddenly recognised where he had seen her expression before: on himself, two years ago, after Venice. The sense of betrayal was almost palpable.

"You stopped the engagement?" she said. Her voice muted with her stupefaction at first then growing shockingly cold and sharp. "You are the reason for which I was locked in my room, for which I was beaten and starved and insulted, abandoned for two days to suffer for something I did not understand?"

"Orianne, I—" Smack! The words died on his lips as he stared in shock, slowly bringing his hand to his cheek, now ornate with a very visible and red handprint. She raised her chin up and glowered at him, and then turned around abruptly, starting to walk away.

"Orianne, please, let me explain!" As he reached for her hand, she started running and quickly disappeared behind bushes at the turn of a path.

"M'sieur Ange! Where Orianne go?" Thérèse screamed as she ran back towards him and almost tripping on every third step. Athos just stood, dazed, staring at the empty space where the young woman had stood a moment ago, and then he sighed. "I don't know. Let's just go back inside, little one." He picked her up and walked back to the palace, hugging the girl closer than what he was used to. She didn't complain.


Porthos rested his hand on the handle of the door to D'Artagnan's palace room, while Aramis glared at him.

"We should not enter another's room without their consent, Porthos," he said sharply. "Now come away from that door and we will go and search elsewhere for the boy."

Having not seen D'Artagnan for several days, not even in passing, the two musketeers had become concerned over him. His youthful spirit and bravado was a lacking space when the friends gathered together for suppers, something even Athos had noticed in his gruff way, and they had discovered nothing of his whereabouts when questioning others. They had yet to ask Constance, but they had approached Roderic, who had been coming from visiting his sister, and he had informed them that he had not seen the Gascon for a bit.

"Odd, when he is normally punctual," Aramis had remarked. Roderic had simply shrugged and had gone about his business following their questioning. He had nothing else to tell them except that Des Essarts was going to declare him as Away without Leave and have him brought up on charges of desertion if he was not found by the end of the following week, when his regiment, among others, was to leave with the Duke d'Orléans for La Rochelle. Porthos had then decided that more forceful means were necessary thus they now stood outside the boy's open room, about to search it while Athos was busy with his new mistress.

"If we don't find the boy then Des Essarts might," said Porthos. "Do you really want him hung in the Place de Grève?"

"Of course not!" said Aramis, huffing, "but what do you expect to find in his room? Him, fast asleep from so many night guard duties, so tired that he slept for days?"

Porthos opened the door and stepped through. Aramis stood in the doorway for a moment or two uncertainly then followed. The room was as well furnished and as well sized as their rooms, the curtains thrown wide to let in the sunlight. A grey Guardsman's uniform was folded on the bed, having been picked up, washed, and returned at some point during the time that he had not been seen. Aramis looked left and right quickly then turned to Porthos impatiently.

"Are you satisfied Porthos? He is not here. Let us leave and go look for him elsewhere!"

"Look, Aramis, surely you noticed the clean uniform left on the bed?" said Porthos, withdrawing his head from D'Artagnan's sparsely filled wardrobe.

"Yes, what of it?" demanded Aramis, his tone as even as if he were speaking to a child.

"Well a servant must have done that, no? This servant may know where D'Artagnan has gone. They do get around more than we do, don't they?"

Aramis opened his mouth to vehemently protest this, but seeing the simple logic of Porthos' words, he paused thoughtfully before he spoke.

"How are we supposed to find this one servant among the many in the Palais Cardinal? There must be several that pass through this corridor and still more who take turns cleaning the rooms! It is impossible and you are mad to even think—"

Aramis was cut off by a startled sound behind him and he spun to see a young woman standing in the door frame bearing a duster in one hand and covering her shocked mouth with the other. She was red haired, a small curl of it escaping on the slightly tanned skin of her forehead from under her coiffure, and rather small of stature. Aramis stepped towards her, his hand outstretched.

"Do not be afraid, my dear child. We mean you no harm. Might I know your name?" he asked, gently pulling her hand away from her mouth so he could kiss the back gracefully.

"Héloïse, Monsieur," she squeaked, blushing rather darkly. Aramis offered her a gentle smile.

"What a lovely name." Hearing this, Porthos rolled his eyes, chuckling, which Aramis took care to ignore. "My dear Héloïse, are you responsible for cleaning this room?"

"This one and every other along the hall Monsieur," she replied.

"Excellent! Now, are you the young lady who took this uniform and had it cleaned?" Héloïse pulled away from Aramis, her eyes wide with fright.

"Oh, Monsieur, did I make a mistake? Was I wrong to take it? I put it back where I find it, only cleaned and folded!"

"You made no mistake whatsoever!" explained Aramis, fervently pressing her hands to soothe the young girl. "But you say that you put it right back where you found it, yes?"

"Yes, exactly so, Monsieur. It was thrown across the bed and left there. There was no one in the room when I came to clean."

"And when was this, pray? How many days ago did you take this uniform?"

"I would say five days ago, Monsieur."

"Wonderful! Dear sweet Héloïse, you have been most helpful," said Aramis, kissing her hands still clasped in his. "Thank you. We shall leave you to your cleaning."

During Aramis' interrogation, Porthos had moved to stand by the door, and now that it was finished, the two men left. Porthos clapped Aramis on the shoulder, making the shorter man stagger but not fall.

"You could charm the scales from fish, Padre," he declared, giving a great bellow of a laugh.

"Needless to say, D'Artagnan has not been seen since after Athos captured Buckingham," said Aramis in all seriousness, "thus he seemingly vanished the very same day. The remaining question is where did he go?"


After days of travel along much of the same route as he had taken with his friends and Constance on their retrieval of the Queen's diamonds, D'Artagnan had never expected to arrive in Calais in such a state. He tugged at the stiff, starched collar that encircled his neck and Milady slapped his hand away sharply.

"Stop fiddling, boy, else you will ruin the whole thing!" D'Artagnan offered her only a bitter glare from under his newly donned hat plumed with a spill of light coloured feathers that were pinned with a sapphire brooch. His hair was just as stiff as the collar, held in tight curls with more pins than he had ever seen, and he snuffled irritably at the smell of himself bathed in lavender pomade. Milady had thought it best he come in a disguise in case he was recognised from his previous voyage. There had been some strangely curious looks at him before he'd been disguised, looks that he could only think of as piercing and made his shoulders itch and the hair on the back of his neck prickle when he thought about them. Milady had explained it away, with such nonchalance, as a possible bounty on his head placed by Richelieu from before the Affair of the Diamonds, it bothered him more, and when he pointed out that she had not changed her clothes, she had only smiled at him in her ingratiating way. This was her disguise, she had said, as everyone had seen her in better attire. He now had a very good reason to dislike her, perhaps even hate her, for this embarrassment.

There was an appreciative whistle to his left as the pair passed some men seated around a table near a window at a tavern and the Gascon flinched, beginning to make the gesture to reach for his nonexistent blade, its missing weight on his hip leaving him with an extreme sense of nakedness. He stared daggers into Milady's somewhat bared shoulders and cursed himself for not yet having grown any sort of facial hair. The redheaded woman suddenly spun around to face him and he stumbled, stepping back onto the hem of skirts that swished about his ankles and almost falling. He was developing a new respect for Constance quicker than he could have ever imagined.

"When I speak to the ship captain, keep your fan up in front of your face. No amount of rouge or face powder can hide the unfortunate line of your jaw," she said, "and most of all, follow my lead. Say nothing. There is little chance of your donning a woman's voice at your age." D'Artagnan bristled, his shoulders bunching like an angry cat, one hand tightening around the white lace fan it held in its furious grip, but he said nothing save for showing his teeth gritted in a false smile behind painted lips. If any of those three find out about this, I will never live it down. He had argued with her, he had protested with every excuse he could muster, and yet all had failed. They had entered a tailor's shop, he was fitted for a dress, and now he was wearing it in Calais, in public, with Milady as his 'guide' and travelling companion.

"It is no wonder that Athos could no longer stand you!" he hissed. She grabbed his shoulder, jerking him forward harshly.

"Funnily enough, his kiss when we met said otherwise," she spat. "That is enough of your comments. For the first time in your short, miserable life, keep quiet and do as you're told."

"Ho there, Monsieur, what are you doing to this young woman?" Milady turned and D'Artagnan fumbled with the fan for a moment before managing to open it and hold it up in front of his face until only his eyes were visible over it. A blond man stood there in a brown suit with a face that was unfortunately familiar to the both of them.

"Jussac," muttered D'Artagnan. Milady shot him a glare from under her broad hat, reaching up to preen the false, horse-hair moustache that she'd wet and stuck to her upper lip. She coughed a few times to deepen her voice and with a rough, gravely tone, she spoke.

"Monsieur, do not concern your person with our affairs. I am this young lady's travelling companion and she is in no danger with me." Jussac narrowed his eyes suspiciously, eying Milady carefully. She held her head high and proud, staring back at him. D'Artagnan tucked himself behind Milady's narrow frame, hoping to cover as much of his face as possible. There was no way Jussac would have forgotten how the young Gascon had humiliated him in Cooper's Yard.

"Your accent is English," remarked Jussac, starting to smirk. "I am afraid that you are on the wrong side of the Channel, Monsieur, and in a country at war with your own."

"I am aware of this," Milady growled lowly. "We are trying to return to England. We want no part in Buckingham's foolish war and my lady Ketty must return for her sake of her health." With this, D'Artagnan did his best to make a few dainty coughs to validate Milady's words, only they come out rough and forced. It seemed, however, to convince Jussac, whose expression became almost concerned.

"Perhaps I can help you as a servant of His Eminence, Cardinal Richelieu," said Jussac slowly, furrowing his brow. "I should be able to secure you safe passage across the Channel, perhaps even a pass to accompanying you both to the opposing shore."

"That would be most excellent, Sir," said Milady, fighting the smile that was beginning to grow on her face in the unexpected circumstance. "Your company would be most valuable to us in this matter." D'Artagnan fought to breathe through his anger whilst being trapped in the cinched corset, his ribs feeling as if they were dueling with how close they were pressed together. Jussac removed his hat and bowed to them both, even taking D'Artagnan finely gloved hand and kissing the back, before he began to march down to the docks. When the guard was out of sight, D'Artagnan rounded on Milady furiously.

"What are you playing at?" he demanded. "How the hell are we going to get rid of him if he crosses the Channel with us? Surely you don't expect me to wear this thing the entire trip!"

"As a matter of fact, I do, young Gascon. You see, if two men and a very short woman enter the ship then the same people must get off later. You can hardly expect us to swap roles once aboard and not be noticed. Besides, I think Monsieur Jussac is quite smitten with you." She smiled at seeing him visibly shudder, like a duck shaking water from its feathers.

"Calm yourself, boy. If anything, you may fake sick during the entire voyage and stay in the cabin out of sight until we arrive in Dover."

"That still does not get rid of Jussac," said D'Artagnan through gritted teeth. "I will still have to wear this in England."

"The end justifies the means," said Milady sharply. "And this disguise, along with your pretty features, could very well get us where we need to go. Trust me."

"If I remember right, the last time someone trusted you, they were horribly betrayed," muttered the young man darkly.

"Last time, there was not the potential of a substantial reward from the Royal Treasury and the gratitude of a King to be earned," said Milady. "Now be quiet, I can see him coming back. My, that was quickly settled." Jussac strutted towards them, preening his moustache between his fingers and smirking victoriously.

"Monsieur, Mademoiselle, we will be leaving within a short while. The captain of the ship at the end of the docks has kindly accepted to bring us across despite the present blockade." He waved carelessly out towards the open water where Milady and D'Artagnan just now took note of the bobbing masts and furrowed sails of some of the English naval fleet just beyond Calais. "He apparently has passage to cross the Channel for whatever reason, I did not ask. Until we are able to board, however, may I ask that you both accompany me for a drink?"

"How can we refuse you this simple pleasure when you have offered us so much?" said Milady, lightly pushing D'Artagnan to take Jussac's offered arm. He kept the fan between them and coughed a few times to maintain his pretense of illness, which was not difficult given that the looks he caught occasionally from the guard, made his stomach to turn and kept a gagging sensation trapped in his throat.

(1) For those of you who are curious, Ketty was the name of Milady's servant in the original French of the novel The Three Musketeers whereas in the English versions, her name is Kitty. We chose to use the name from the French.

School is just around the corner for us, but we'll do our best to keep updating! We're sorry if it took longer this time. We might be able to update until the middle of September as we're going on a big trip! Yay!

AutevielleDeLaFere24