Treville stood quietly with his arms crossed over his chest. He tried to remain alert, keep his eyes on the potential threats against the king, but his mind was elsewhere. His heart ached, and for the first time in a long time he felt tired and old. He looked toward Aramis, who stood with his hands on his hips, but he shifted incessantly as the time went by. They had never been good at hiding their feelings… where Athos had tried to master the skill, even he could not always hold back when the moments came. Aramis, ever the carefree, romantic with a heart of gold, could not hide his grief, nor would he try. And now he stood on the verge of making a hasty decision as the night skies darkened, and the hours grew longer before they could once again be hunting for Athos.

"It's colder tonight," Aramis said. He looked toward the night sky and then toward the musicians as they continued their performance.

Treville nodded and looked toward the balcony as another one of his men nodded, everything was clear. "It's been cool every night," he said, and shifted his stance to look out the doors.

"How much longer will this monotony of strings continue?" Aramis shifted his hands from his hips to across his chest. "There are better things to be done right now."

"You cannot depart in the black of night, Aramis," Treville said, and took a deep breath.

"The moon is bright tonight —"

"I will not risk three more men due to haste or unclear thinking," Treville said. He cleared his throat and clapped when the maestro turned and bowed.

"Finally," Aramis said.

"They're not done," Treville said and shook his head. He sighed when he heard Aramis groan and kick his foot against a pillar. "What would you do… if you left this time of night?"

Aramis was quiet for a moment. He rolled his shoulders, then wet the tips of his fingers, and pulled at the corners of his mustache. "I'd ride until dawn and continue the search." He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his feet. He paused a moment, looked toward the doors, and then glanced toward Porthos and d'Artagnan who spoke quietly together. He could tell from their postures that they were hurting, their minds were elsewhere, as the days of loss continued. "I always thought we'd all grow old together… be uncles to each other's children," he shrugged, "while our wives — or mistresses — complained about our drinking, gambling, and troubles in general."

Treville nodded, watching the king as he closed his eyes and lost himself in the music. The queen smiled, grasped his hand, and looked happy amongst the guests. "You're soldiers… you know what the risks are." His words failed to sound strong, and all-knowing, and instead they came across as flat and unemotional.

"Did you never think of having grandchildren at your feet, captain?" Aramis asked. "They need not have your blood in their veins, they would have thought of you as such — Athos would have seen to that."

Treville caught his breath in his throat and looked toward Porthos, who shook his head while he spoke with d'Artanan. These men were his family, and while he never said as much, his guidance, oversight, and devotion to them had been out of fatherly devotion, not just because he was their captain. But it never dawned on him that they felt the same for him. He tightened his fists, closed his eyes, and for just a moment he thought about those children at his feet and stories he would tell around the fireplace. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and inhaled through his mouth. For a moment, losing Athos meant much more than the man himself. It meant everything he brought with him.

"Does everything stop because he is gone?" Treville looked toward Aramis, who shook his head.

"No," Aramis said, "but it does change everything."

Treville nodded and glanced toward the night sky as the stars flickered. He turned suddenly when a young stable hand entered the inner courtyard and scurried around the outer edges in order not to be seen. He stepped beside Aramis, whispered to him, and then darted back out the way he had come.

"Someone is injured by the stables," Aramis said, and motioned with his hand for permission to depart.

Treville nodded. "See to it — the night has been rather quiet and I think the rest of us can manage."

Aramis nodded, grabbed the hilt of his sword, and exited the courtyard. He took a deep breath as he walked down the hall toward the chateau's exit and was hit with the evening's fresh air. The stableboy met him at the exit and walked in stride with him.