A/N: Thank you Musketball1 and SnidgetHex for reviewing the last episode!

Chapter 1

Constance strolled through the marketplace, surveying the produce selection at various vendors. Shopping used to be a fun outing, a time to get away from work and meander through the streets bustling with activity and merchandise. Now it was a dreary chore, with weary farmers watching everyone like a hawk lest a starving refugee try to snatch something from their carts, and city guards standing at attention on every corner doing much the same. Constance at least looked respectable in her colorful blue and rust dress with the fleur-de-lis embroidered bosom, so she wasn't treated with the same measure of suspiciousness as she approached a stall to examine some carrots.

"Three bushels, please," she said.

The vendor began grabbing handfuls of the vegetable and binding them with twine.

"These prices are outrageous," someone at the next stall scowled.

"What do you expect?" his companion rejoined. "Prices have been going up since the war started."

The first muttered a string of invectives against the Spanish.

"It's that Spanish bitch's fault," the second said.

Constance stiffened.

"It's because of her things are as bad as they are. We're all suffering while she sits in the palace like a pampered poodle."

"No doubt she's secretly helping Spain," the first joined in, then spat out a hateful slur.

Constance's face flushed hot with rage and she almost spun on them to unleash that fury, but she managed to keep herself in check. She didn't need to get caught up in an argument with ignoble fools. She paid for her carrots and stormed off in the opposite direction.

But no sooner had she crossed the square that more hateful mutterings against the Queen reached her ears. She roved her gaze around, stunned by the utter disregard that every single person seemed to possess regarding these slanderous statements against their own Queen. The more she heard, the more she wanted to say something. The war wasn't the Queen's fault. Rochefort being a Spanish spy wasn't her fault and the fact that he'd kidnapped her, thereby triggering war, wasn't her fault either.

"Good morning, Constance."

She startled slightly. "Ninon."

The woman had a small basket over one arm with a few meager vegetables set in the bottom. "I didn't mean to startle you," she said apologetically.

"No, you didn't. Well, I was distracted." Constance glanced around again, the spiteful comments still rippling like water throughout the entire market.

"Yes," Ninon hummed.

Constance turned back to her and lowered her voice. "I don't understand where all this hate for the Queen is suddenly coming from. She hasn't done anything to deserve it!"

"The governor," Ninon said in an equally low voice, angling herself away from the passersby.

"What?"

"Not directly, of course. Strategically placed comments by the city guards are what's stirring up the people."

Constance frowned. "How do you know that?"

"An unassuming woman can glean a lot by standing quietly under the eaves," Ninon replied.

Constance shook her head incredulously. "But, the governor's the one who's been oppressing them for months."

"The direct confrontations between the people and his city guards have eased up," Ninon told her. "He's redirecting the unrest toward the Queen."

Constance couldn't believe it. The governor and his city guards had done some sleazy things, but this was borderline seditious. She had the overwhelming urge to get out of here and go see Anne.

"I should be going," she said to Ninon.

"Constance," the former comtesse called, suddenly shifting uncertainly. "How is Athos?"

Constance's lips quirked. "He's fine. You haven't seen him recently?"

Ninon shrugged nonchalantly. "He was very busy with some missions."

"I could tell him you asked about him."

"Oh, no. I'm just glad to hear he's well. Good day, Constance." With that, Ninon turned and made a hasty retreat.

Constance continued to grin in amusement for another minute before the grumblings in the market soured her mood again. She finished her shopping quickly and returned to the garrison to drop off the goods, but then decided to head straight for the palace to see the Queen.

"Constance," Anne said brightly when she was escorted into the Queen's chambers. "I wasn't expecting you."

Constance smiled in return. "I wanted to see how you were."

Anne quirked a perplexed look at her. "I'm well. Why?"

"No reason," Constance swiftly hedged. She glanced around the room. "The Dauphin is with his governess?"

"The King," Anne corrected, her expression faltering slightly. "He's been wanting to spend some time alone with his son."

Oh. Well, Constance supposed that was a good thing, though she didn't know why the Queen couldn't be with them. Anne suddenly looked incredibly lonely, something Constance was keenly aware was a growing problem.

She feigned a put-out sigh. "I suppose I'll survive not being able to pinch those chubby cheeks today. Perhaps we can do something?"

"Constance, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"I can tell when you're hiding something," Anne said. "And you don't come for a visit unannounced unless something is bothering you. Please, we're friends, you can tell me anything. You know I'm always here for you."

Constance's shoulders slumped. "It's not me," she said resignedly.

Anne's brows pinched. "Is it d'Artagnan?"

She shook her head. "I was in the market this morning and heard…some distressing gossip." She grimaced. "About you."

Anne's expression closed off. "I see." She turned away, clasping her hands together.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"I'm aware of the whispers," she said softly. "The increasing hostile sentiments against me. They're in the palace as well."

Constance's heart constricted. She'd been afraid of that.

"I don't understand how the people could hate me so much," Anne went on, voice fraught with emotion. "After everything I have been through for France."

Constance closed the distance and took her hands. "They're being fed lies and don't know any better."

"I wish I knew of a way to win back their trust."

Constance pursed her mouth as she thought of Ninon and the work she was doing with the refugees. "What about sponsoring free education? I know a woman who's been working with the refugees, teaching many of them to read. With so many people having lost their livelihoods, an education could open more opportunities for them. If you donated supplies, more people could have access, and they would see how much you do care about their well-being."

Anne perked up. "That's a magnificent idea, Constance. Would you introduce me to this woman?"

She faltered. Ninon's identity wasn't exactly supposed to be revealed to anyone who knew her from her previous life. "She might find it difficult to get away," Constance hedged. "But I would be happy to be your liaison."

Anne nodded, face breaking into an excited smile. "Thank you, Constance. I will make the arrangements immediately."

Constance grinned back. Perhaps things would finally start looking up.

.o.0.o.

Aramis made his way through the palace to the study facing the east gardens. The summons he'd received from the Queen was both perplexing and curious: a note asking him to come meet her, alone. If she had wanted a musketeer escort for a walk in the gardens, she could have just sent the request to Athos, even if she wanted to ask for Aramis specifically. Perhaps she wanted something else, though he couldn't imagine what it might be.

He reached the outer doors, which were not being manned by either a guard or attendant. Hesitating over protocol, Aramis finally decided to simply go inside. To his surprise, the Queen was in the study alone, not a lady-in-waiting or anyone else in sight, which was odd.

"Your Majesty?"

She looked up from the writing desk and got to her feet. "Aramis, thank you for coming. Please close the door."

Intrigued, he shut the door behind him and crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. Anne looked paradoxically uncertain and confident as she regarded him.

"I have a favor to ask of you," she began.

"Anything," he immediately replied.

A smile of relief washed over her, but then she quickly sobered again. "I want to initiate peace talks with my brother."

Aramis quirked his brow in confusion.

"I've sent word through backchannels to the Spanish ambassador requesting a meeting," she went on. "And I would like you to be my representative."

Aramis honestly didn't know what to say.

"You're fluent in Spanish," Anne continued. "You're the best suited to negotiate on my behalf."

"The King…isn't involved?" he asked carefully.

Anne stiffened slightly. "No. I do not want to trouble him with it unless real progress can be made. But I believe my brother will listen to me. It may take some time, but I think we can put an end to this war."

Aramis shook his head dubiously. "I'm not sure secret talks with Spain is a good idea, especially without the King's knowledge."

"This war is destroying both countries, and the sooner we can put an end to it, the better for everyone." Anne's confidence cracked and she gave Aramis a look of desperation. "I want to do what's best for France, and show the King that I can provide a valuable contribution."

Aramis's heart went out to her, and even though he still had his doubts, he didn't think he could refuse her request. "You've already arranged the meeting?" he said resignedly.

She smiled sheepishly. "Yes. I had been counting on your support."

He sighed. "Alright," he relented. "I'll go."

Her smile widened and she picked up a letter with her seal from the desk. "I am willing to make compromises in the name of peace, but I will not allow France to be subjected or humiliated," she said as she passed it over. "The Spanish ambassador may try to test you by pushing unreasonable demands. Take nothing off the table but make it clear it is me and Philip who will be making the final decisions."

Aramis tucked the letter into his doublet. "You do realize I don't have any experience in these matters."

Anne smiled softly. "You bear no ill will toward Spain and would see an agreement that benefits both countries. I trust your judgment, Aramis."

Well, that was one of them, because he was questioning it at the moment for going along with this.

Anne's expression turned serious again and she lowered her voice. "No one can know about this," she reminded him. "Not even Athos."

Aramis nodded grudgingly. He disliked the thought of keeping this from his brothers, but he also understood the necessity, at least for now. Perhaps if the talks made real progress toward peace, he'd be able to share it soon. Though that was a rather naive hope, he knew.

"Where is the rendezvous?"

"The ruins outside of Bourges."

That was a day's ride by horse, and Aramis figured he'd have to go without Rhaego if he was going to travel in secret. Not to mention bringing a dragon to proposed peace talks wasn't the best opening move to inspire mutual trust and goodwill.

Aramis shifted his weight awkwardly. "I should make preparations, then."

Anne nodded, and he bowed before turning to walk away.

"Aramis," she called. "Thank you. And good luck."

He exhaled heavily as he took his leave. He was going to need it.

He'd have to wait for nightfall to take a horse from the garrison stable and head out under the cover of dark to avoid anyone spotting him and asking prying questions. And then there was no telling how long he'd be gone, so he'd have to make sure no one thought he'd simply disappeared or forsaken his duties. The Queen didn't want him divulging the nature of this mission to anyone, but he could leave a vague note, just so the others wouldn't worry overly much.

When he got back to the garrison, he did a quick survey of the yard and everyone present, then casually walked into the kitchen. It was currently empty, so he was able to grab some provisions and sneak them over to his room without anyone seeing. Then he packed his saddlebag and tucked it under the bed to retrieve later. Lastly, he reached up to feel the letter secured inside his doublet. Best not to leave that lying around, even in the garrison, he decided.

So with that, he finally went back outside to go about his day as though he wasn't carrying a game-changing secret and lying to his friends about it.