Hey there, good evening from Europe,

thank you so much for all your reviews and of course reading our last chapter.

tricia1630: I am sorry to hear that. Tissue box is on it's way to you. Glad you loved it. I am sure you will love this chapter sure xx

gecko10: I am glad you liked this chapter. Hmmm if they have caught enough sleep, let's find out in the next chapter.

Beeblegirl: Thank you for your review. Good friends are really rare to find. I am glad you liked this chapter.

Barbara L.: Thank you so much for your kind words. Yes we love to write emotional scenes and I am glad that you loved it. Enjoy the next chapter xx

After a very short chapter yesterday here comes now a very long chapter.

A chapter, I think, you have now waited very long for.

Again our thanks go out to Beth & Helen.

Will Athos go to the palace? Or will he stay at the garrison?

Enjoy and please leave us a comment!

xx Kira

Chapter 35

Friday, 6th June

Athos hadn't slept well that night.

Maybe because of this bitter coffee Aramis gave me last night?

Maybe because I am too anxious seeing the enemy everywhere?

Maybe because I know that I will pass out in the throne room?

Why am I doing this? This is a stupid idea.

But I have to know! I need to know!

Athos was standing in the courtyard wearing his heavy uniform. The worn out heavy dark leather felt uncomfortable on his sensitive skin. The shirt he was wearing irritated the still painful rash on his chest. At least his hat protected him from the burning sun and the blinding light.

It was a hot spring day. No clouds, no rain, but a beautiful clear sky. Swallows and martins were dancing a dizzying ballet across the courtyard. Athos looked up, shading his eyes with a too trembling hand. The martin's cries brought Athos back to a happy past. When he was a child waiting impatiently for spring to return, this season meaning long horse rides, walks in the fields, reading sat on the low branch of a tree and, above all else, longer days. And light. He smiled sadly. Where were these years? Where was this light?

A soft hand on the small of his back nearly made him jump and blink.

"Your uniform weighs too much for your still weak body, allow me at least to carry your weapons for you until Porthos is here with the wagon."

Aramis had helped him to dress that morning: shirt, uniform, trousers, his boots, jacket and the precious blue scarf d'Artagnan had brought him in the evening.

It had been a very slow process and Aramis had cursed now and then as he watched his brother swaying unsteadily, but he hadn't said anything to him. He didn't want to hurt Athos' pride, so he tried to intervene as little as possible.

Now Aramis was next to him carrying his sword and pistols, not yet ready to give them back to his brother. Athos had accepted Aramis' offer. He didn't say anything, but he was thankful and a short nod was enough for his friend.

A sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead and the band of his hat stuck to his skin. His breathing was already fast from the short walk from Aramis' room to the courtyard and he could hear his heart bumping.

"Are you really sure you still want to come?" Aramis had asked him five minutes earlier concern and anxiety colouring his voice.

"Aramis, I have to. You know that." He had answered him softly.

"Fine then! Remember! We are there for you! Don't overdo it and before you pass out, sit down. Listen to your body and tell us, if you need help!" Aramis had ordered before they left the room.

Athos had nodded shortly, thankful for Aramis' words and thankful for the support of his brothers. The loud sound of the wooden wheels of their old wagon brought him back to reality. Porthos was steering the two horses hitched to the wagon. Now he ordered them to hold next to him. Aramis gave him Athos' weapons.

"Do you need a hand?"

Porthos had asked him and before he could even answer, he had unconsciously lifted his right hand and his strong brother had seized it and hoisted him onto the seat next to him. Athos looked a bit embarrassed. But Aramis had chosen this moment to unfold the cape he was carrying under his arm in an elegant and swift move hiding Athos' back, so no other Musketeer had seen the way he had clumsily climbed on his seat.

Tréville and d'Artagnan had already left the garrison. Aramis had helped Athos to fasten his weapons to his belt. Then the medic had gently pressed his knee. His dark eyes looked into his green eyes, and he noticed the paleness of his friend's face, but he didn't say a word.

Athos could read Aramis thoughts nevertheless.

You are a fool Athos, but you are my fool. So do me a favour and stay safe!

With a soft, but very weak and barely noticeable smile he answered Aramis.

"Ready to go, My Lord?" He heard Porthos whisper in his ear.

Athos snorted and if he had had enough strength, his elbow would have landed on Porthos' ribs.

"Just drive the damn wagon, Porthos." Athos ordered with a mischievous smile.

Porthos whistled and the horses started to pull their precious cargo. Athos felt exhausted and dizzy. The bumps the wagon made vibrated through his upper body. He felt tired.

I will never be able to climb the stairs to the throne hall nor to be able to stand there for longer than five minutes. He ruefully thought. I should tell him to leave me behind.

"Very well. May I add something?" Porthos asked after a few minutes of a companionable silence.

"If it's not go back to sleep, Athos or you should stay in bed, Athos, yes, you can." Athos answered in a sleepy but amused voice.

Porthos had not once told him that he shouldn't go, that he should stay in his room, resting and being protected by two cadets. Porthos had simply accepted his wishes, even so he was as worried for him as Aramis was, maybe even more … and Athos was well aware and grateful for that.

Athos heard Aramis laughing but didn't turn his head. Porthos' shoulder was too comfortable to abandon it.

"May I compliment you about your hairstyle, My Lord?"

"Will you stop that, Porthos?" Athos groaned.

"And your beard."

"Porthos ..." Athos replied in a menacing tone.

"He is right, Athos, the court ladies will faint when you appear in the throne room."

"So, I shall try not to faint before they do!" Athos answered with a wry smile.

"Mmmh … you know how to seduce women, Athos. I will ask you for a few lessons, later". Aramis laughed.

"Aramis. Be quiet!" Athos replied, closing his eyes again.

His head started to loll and it fell on Porthos shoulder where it rested.

Oi Athos, you can be stubborn. I should stop right now and carry you back into your bed.

Porthos thought, feeling the soft breath of his tired friend at his neck. He looked next to him and could see Aramis, who was riding on his horse on the other side, next to Athos. They looked at each other and talked silently.

Shall I turn around? Porthos asked.

No, let him have his will, but be aware that he is still very weak. Aramis answered.

"I can hear you talking." Athos mumbled with closed eyes.

The wagon had hit a sharp and big stone and Athos had woken again.

"Rest Athos." He could hear Porthos soothing voice. "You will need your strength later!"

Athos thankfully stayed in his position. Porthos steady manner calmed his agitated nerves.

Only one hour, I will only watch the swordfight, check out this mean O'Sullivan and then I will return to my bed.

As he slightly swayed on the seat, he felt Porthos' hand around his shoulder. The big Musketeer tightened his grip, while the wagon rumbled over the bumpy ground to the palace.

XXXXX

In the meantime at the palace

Today was the great day, Milady had put on her best dress a white-rosé one, with lots of silver beads on it. She knew that the tight fabric would outline her feminine figure and she wanted to please King Louis with it. As she was on her way to the throne room, she spotted O'Sullivan. He was busy following Rochefort, who just appeared in the corridor. He was dressed in an ugly red shirt and tight, black leather trousers and his sword was fastened on a belt on his left side.

"My Lord, may I have a word with you?" O'Sullivan spoke loudly and his voice sounded agitated.

Rochefort wanted to move on.

"Not now!" He angrily answered, "I have to prepare myself, tomorrow I'll have time for you."

"I am afraid I really need to talk with you now, I need answers. Have you found out who the woman was who hired Gallagher?" He asked angrily. "I have paid you a fortune for this information. Yesterday you didn't want to talk to me. I demand …"

"You can demand nothing!" Rochefort interrupted him angrily and shouted. "You came to me with a question and you should be glad that I gave you the name of the Musketeer who murdered your friend." Rochefort stated coldly.

"He is a soldier like me, only following orders. I want to know who hired Gallagher." The man stated in a cold voice.

"I am afraid, I cannot help you with that."

Milady stood hidden in a corner.

This is interesting. O'Sullivan is searching for me but he will never know that it was me. The Cardinal didn't tell anyone about my work for him. He took all his dirty secrets to the grave.

"You still owe me money!" O'Sullivan said angrily.

Rochefort grinned evil.

"I doubt that. For what? Those plants you are trying to sell to the King. Any fishwife living in the gutter of Paris knows about the effect of these plants.

"Nevertheless I have left samples for the King …" O'Sullivan said angrily.

"We both know that you are not a medic, so stop being such a hypocrite! Enjoy our feast and then gather your things and leave this palace. You are not welcome here anymore." He threatened him.

"I won't leave until I have my answers." O'Sullivan wanted to push Rochefort against the next corner, but two Red Guards, who had watched the whole scene readied themselves, one of them had drawn a pistol.

"Don't you dare to touch me." Rochefort snarled. Then he turned around and hurried down the corridor. O'Sullivan angrily shook his head.

Milady had seen enough. Rochefort had given O'Sullivan Athos' name. But O'Sullivan hadn't sounded like he had attacked Athos. Or was he simply covering his tracks? The whole affair became more and more complicated.

But if it wasn't O'Sullivan, who attacked Athos, who then? The Duke of Savoy? And why did O'Sullivan want to find out who had engaged Gallagher? Does this man want to kill me?

Be careful Anne! She told herself.

As O'Sullivan had left the corridor too, she stepped out of the dark corner where she had been hidden and went slowly and very ladylike to the throne hall.

XXXXX

Confused, Athos opened his eyes as he felt a hand on his thigh. He looked to his right, where Aramis was standing. Porthos' hand was still holding him in a safe embrace, to keep him from falling down from the wagon.

Porthos had stopped their wagon in a small backyard of the palace. Usually it was used by pages in order not to disturb the noblemen who entered the palace through the huge main entrance. The entrance was beside the river Seine and the cool breath coming from the water felt good on Athos' face.

"Come!" Aramis reached for his hands while Porthos supported his back from the other side.

Before Athos could say a word of protest both his brothers had helped him to climb off the wagon, a side door to a small entrance was opened and d'Artagnan appeared.

"The stairs are empty and I have asked Jean and Armand to keep it clear, so no one will see us entering the palace." He went over to his brothers.

Athos was unsteady on his feet, the dizziness he had felt earlier had returned and he swayed dangerously, keeping Aramis' hand in a death grip.

Come on Athos. Try to calm, try to breathe easy. You can do this. He told himself.

Porthos who had climbed from the wagon too, positioned himself on Athos' other side. Athos let his head drop.

"I …" Athos swallowed. " I am … sorry, but I doubt that I will make it up the stairs on my own."

"That's why we are here and helping you, my dear Comte." Aramis teased him softly.

"We have decided to use the page entrance. No visitors. Just lean on me and Aramis and d'Artagnan will go ahead and see if the entrance to the second floor is free. He will give us a sign." Porthos explained in an calm and reassuring voice.

"Are you ready?" D'Artagnan wanted to know.

Athos felt a knot in his throat, but he couldn't say anything.

"Wait!"

Aramis said suddenly and his friends looked irritated at the medic. He gently lifted Athos' right hand which was still in his. Then, he looked into his brother's eyes and pressed his right hand over Athos', mumbling quietly "All for one …"

Porthos and d'Artagnan moved nearer and followed his example, putting their own right gloved hands over Athos' and repeating Aramis' words. Then standing there in a circle, protectively around Athos they said together, in a solemn chorus of deep voices:

"And one for all!"

Leaving a speechless Athos in their middle, who was obviously fighting with his emotions, jaws clenched and eyelids fluttering.

"Now, we can go!" Aramis ordered firmly and supported Athos' right side, while Porthos did the same on his left.

XXXXX

Throne room

With Aramis and Porthos by his sides, Athos slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor. The swordsman thought it would be more exhausting for him, but his brothers had supported his back and waited several times, so that he could pause and breathe deeply from time to time. His eyes never left the grey stone stairs, concentrating on every single step he hoped and prayed that the itching feeling in his chest wouldn't return. His heartbeat still worried him.

"Only one landing left." Porthos' murmured in his left ear.

As they reached the top, the young Gascon was already waiting for them. From time to time he looked through the gap of a partly open white door and smiled like an excited schoolboy at his mentor.

"All noblemen are gathered, the King is on his way, but the Duke of Savoy and Rochefort are still missing."

He quietly explained to them, while Athos used d'Artagnan's blue scarf to wipe the sweat from his forehead that had reappeared when they had reached the first landing.

"Now we'll wait here!" Aramis ordered.

He had taken over the command. Usually it was Athos who gave the orders, but the latter was too exhausted.

"Good idea!" Porthos agreed. "It's cooler in the staircase. The sun will already have heated up the the throne room and with many people in it, the air will be spent."

"Tréville has told me that you three shall stand guard next to the three big windows beside the throne. He has opened one, so there will be a small breath at your back. I will take my post opposite to you." D'Artagnan explained.

"Won't it look strange when we arrive that late?" Athos tried to argue tiredly not thinking clearly.

"Not at all!" Aramis encouraged him. "It would make sense to wait until the King has entered safely, we've done this many times before. You know that. Nobody will notice any difference."

"Shhh …" D'Artagnan whispered. "There is the sign from Jean. We should go in!"

Now Athos was standing between Porthos on his right and Aramis on his left side. As Porthos had predicted the air was bad in the huge throne room.

With this bad air in here I will have a good excuse when I collapse.

They stood next to each other, side by side. Porthos and Aramis' arms were touching his and by the slightest unsteady move of their friend they could easily stabilise him, by laying their hands on his back but right now there was no need for that.

Athos realised that Tréville, who was standing next to d'Artagnan on the opposite side of them, observed the whole room.

Tréville isn't relaxed at all.

Athos' eyes wandered through the room. King Louis was wearing a blue silk costume.

It is new, or at least I have never seen him wearing it before. Maybe it was tailored extra for this special day.

Queen Anne, who was standing next to her husband was wearing a beautiful green dress and both of them were sitting on their thrones. About one hundred noblemen, court-ladies and a few merchants were waiting at the other side of the room. There were big vases with red and white roses on carved gilt tables in each of the four corners of the hall.

In the middle of the room a big velvet red carpet had been laid down on the wood stained flooring and on it Rochefort and the Duke of Savoy were now standing opposite to each other, waiting for the sign which would be given by the King to start their sword fight.

Rochefort is looking like a peacock, I really hope that he won't win. He is scanning the audience like we are, checking on everyone who is there. It serves him right that his plan that I should fight the Duke a second time has not materialised. If I'd had to fight today, I would never have won, it would have been impossible.

Athos felt another sweat bead running down his face.

Porthos is right, it is really hot in here and I can hardly breathe. Take it easy, Athos, try to calm yourself.

Athos could hear his pounding heart in his ears. The heavy uniform was pulling him down and he hoped that the sword fight would soon be over. The heat was unbearable for his weak body and so to distract himself he began to scan the corner where the noblemen were standing. He could see Doctor Lemay standing next to Constance and a man he had never seen before, several times he squeezed his eyes to get a clearer look and it worked.

"The man next to Lemay? Is that O'Sullivan?" Athos curiously whispered to Aramis trying to calm his breathing. His voice sounded hoarse.

We have really made it! The medic thought.

Aramis could feel Athos' tense body next to him. His brother was in high alert position, but he wasn't swaying dangerously and he was even a little better than yesterday.

Thank God!

He could see Tréville's glance telling him to take care of Athos and he answered with a slight nod.

Of course I will and if he shows any signs of dizziness I will take him out the next room is free and he can rest there. Come on, let's start this whole ceremony, the sooner we begin, the sooner I can take Athos back. Aramis hoped that the fight would start soon.

"Is that O'Sullivan?" He heard Athos' quiet voice.

He followed Athos' discreet look and indeed next to Lemay, O'Sullivan was standing. His black traveler costume reminded him more of an Irish soldier than of an Irish merchant.

"Yes, that's him." Aramis quietly answered to Athos. "Do you recognise him? Have you seen him anywhere before?"

He could feel Athos' agitation and tightness. His breathing was getting stronger and Aramis was worried that Athos would soon do something stupid.

I wish I would remember him. Maybe anything about him, a scar ... would help, but no ... He wasn't one of the men at the Convent. Aramis was right. Damn, why am I so stressed? My heart is beating faster again. Come on Athos, breath in and out. Relax. Maybe … yes, maybe I can talk to him later. Athos told himself.

So far so good. We have made it to the throne room. Oi this Rochefort looks like a pirate in his black trousers and dark red shirt, if he was wearing an eye patch now, I would have to arrest him. I can't wait to see him losing today. This arrogant, nosy … Porthos' thoughts were interrupted by Athos and Aramis' soft mumbling.

He knew at once what they were talking about. Porthos readied himself to grab Athos' arm, if his brother decided to do something stupid. He could feel Athos' body slightly trembling, but nothing worse.

Stay calm Athos. I'm there for you. You know that. So, just stay where you are right now.

"Sorry … but I don't remember … this man." Athos stated firmly with a barely audible voice. "But you know … they were wearing black cloths around their faces." He added in a much more mumbled tone. "Maybe if I speak to him later …" Athos tried.

"One hour …" Aramis quietly stated, let's see if we get the chance." He made the excuse to Athos.

Both men could feel Athos' disappointment. Even if the swordsman tried to hide it. He uneasily stepped from one foot to another and breathed in more deeply. Porthos glanced worriedly to Aramis, but his brother told him with one look that it was alright for the moment. Athos could feel them discussing over his head.

Stop being so overprotective, my friends, I feel better. I only need another chance. And I need fresh air ... Athos' thoughts were interrupted by the King who had stood up.

"Welcome! To …" He didn't listen to Louis' bright speech about the best trade summit France had ever experienced.

The King was enjoying his usual show: speaking with his hands, showing his white teeth by laughing at his own jokes and flirting with the court-ladies who had gathered too. Queen Anne was annoyed, but tried not to let it show. Seeing her being humiliated by her husband in these moments at court, Athos could understand why she did what she did. He couldn't blame Aramis for his stupidity. His thoughts were drifting away again. He scanned the gathered crowd a second time.

Maybe I could recognise one of the other guests of the summit.

His eyes looked from one nobleman to the next. Several times he had to blink, the bright light, that was now shining through the great windows on the wooden floor still hurt his sensitive eyes.

Please, no headache ...

Suddenly he froze. There, in the farthest corner of the room she was standing. She was not looking in his direction, but in the direction of the King. Her eyes were flirting with King Louis.

Why on earth did I want to come here? I need to leave. This is unbearable. Ahhh my heart … Breathe Athos, breathe!

He was once again interrupted in his thoughts as King Louis ordered the sword fight. to begin. The young Gascon could see his three brothers with Athos in their middle. Porthos scanned the area every single minute, checking for any possible threats. Athos was standing safe between them and he had a little more colour in his pale face than the last two days.

A good sign.

He noticed Athos looking at the sadistic O'Sullivan, whispering to Aramis and from his reaction he could see that he didn't recognise him.

Maybe it's better this way. The Gascon told himself.

He had already feared that Athos would go directly after O'Sullivan and he could see by the way that Porthos was positioning himself, his big brother had the same thought. D'Artagnan observed the two fighters in the middle of the room. Rochefort, looked like a soldier, his blond hair not styled, he looked more like an ordinary slumdog. In contrast to him the Duke of Savoy wore a beautiful dark brown leather uniform. Both men bowed slightly in the direction of the King, as Louis announced the fight to begin. Now they started to dance around each other.

They do look like two turkeys fighting for the same hen.

Rochefort was lurking, trying to read Savoy and the Duke was trying to start his first attack. Very soon both men were attacking each other, fighting hard. Rochefort was not only using his sword, but his leather gloved right fist. As the Duke's face was near enough the Captain of the Red Guards punched his chin hard with his right fist leaving a dazed Duke, who stumbled a few steps backwards and nearly fell down on the red carpet. But he managed to gain his balance and with a loud and angry roar the Duke did not retreat, but attacked with a hard hit on Rochefort's sword and the evil grinning man retreated.

"Not bad, My Lord!" He mocked as he tried to bring himself into another secure position to launch a new attack.

"Use only your sword, Captain!" King Louis criticised loudly, grinning brightly. He enjoyed seeing his brother-in-law tumbling but he still exclaimed "It's against the rules!"

"I wasn't aware that we had discussed any rules for the sword fight." Rochefort answered apologetically as he parried another attack from the Duke.

The young Gascon expected the Duke to win. Rochefort was good, but the Duke was better and his anger made him stronger and more dangerous.

If he had fought yesterday like this against me, he would have had a chance to win. Had it all only been a show? D'Artagnan was becoming unsure. He looked questioningly at Tréville.

King Louis was in a very good mood. He hadn't complained that some of the Musketeers had arrived after him. He was used to it. Tréville had suspiciously watched theInséparables entering the throne room. Athos was well protected by his two brothers and d'Artagnan had assured him with a short nod that everything had worked as planned. He observed Athos scanning the crowd, the barely noticeable discussion with his brothers and he could see the disappointment on Athos' face.

Since the illness had befallen him, he was easier to read. He feared that Athos would collapse, but his Lieutenant was stronger than he had imagined. Knowing that he was in good hands he concentrated on the sword fight between the Duke of Savoy and Rochefort.

Rochefort was cheating and Louis complained about it.

Oh, you are enjoying this way too much, Louis. Tréville thought.

The King couldn't hide his true emotions very easily, the Duke of Savoy was the better fighter, he had the better technique and even after Rochefort had hit him hard in his face, he didn't lose his balance. He could see the blood on his lower lip, a nasty cut but the Duke had expected something like that. He had tested Rochefort, danced around him, working out his weak spots and now Savoy launched his attack. He fought completely differently from yesterday. D'Artagnan had been better, more experienced, with more practice and training. Athos had educated him so well in the last months, but somehow the rage and anger about being hit by a fist made the Duke a very dangerous opponent. Rochefort hadn't expected that. It took the Duke five more minutes. Rochefort's sword clattered to the wooden floor first. His body followed only several seconds later, as the Duke used his foot to hit his right knee. A loud murmur was heard in the whole room escaping from the lips of the audience.

"That is for my chin!" He shouted loudly. "And no, we haven't stated any rules!"

And Rochefort landed hard on the carpet with a loud thud.

"But I spare you the Who will draw blood first!"

The Duke of Savoy had an evil grin on his face. He slightly bowed into the direction of King Louis who looked a bit stunned at the Captain of the Red Guards. He hadn't expected that. Not knowing what to say he slowly stood up, Rochefort was still sitting on the floor, looking furiously for his sword, he wanted to say something but a loud noise made him and the whole audience look into another direction.

XXXXX

It's hot in here and the half open window doesn't help. My leather clothes are too warm, I need to breathe in … and out! I hope this fight will be over soon. I … I can't get enough air … My heart … what's wrong with my chest. Not again … the pain … it is … Arghh … my left arm hurts. Please make the itching in my chest stop ... it's unbearable ... It was a mistake to come ... I need … air … I can't … what's wrong with my … arghhh … my heart ….

Aramis reacted at once followed by Porthos. Both went down on their knees, while Doctor Lemay ran over to them.

"I think it is his heart!" Aramis was checking for a pulse, but couldn't find one.

He felt his own heart trying to escape his chest and his hands couldn't stop shaking. It was not the time, he had to be calm, he clenched his jaws as if it could keep his emotions inside but he felt dizzy. He was tired, he tried to concentrate on his task and cursed when he couldn't find a pulse.

"Let's bring him out of here!" Lemay stated. "Porthos help us to carry him!"

"We need space!" Tréville shouted as a curious crowd blocked the way to the entrance.

With other Musketeers he cleared the way, while Porthos and Aramis were busy helping Doctor Lemay. The Doctor was still checking with his hand for a heartbeat.

"There, I can feel it, his heart is beating but much too fast and irregular. We need to hurry. We need to lie him down!"

The King looked shocked. "What is going on!" He shouted angrily.

Rochefort who was now standing next to him said. "I think the doctor has everything under control and Captain Tréville is helping, why don't we all go to the other room and start our summit as planned?"

"That is a very thoughtful and a good idea, Rochefort!" Queen Anne agreed. "Poor man, it is very hot in here."

To be continued …