Well, (this site) must be having some issues. I've not been able to see any reviews since chapter 4 - the review number is increasing, but alas, viewing is a different story. Thank you all for letting me know and (crossing my fingers) you enjoyed the last couple of chapters. Hopefully, once things are working again, I'll be able to read those!

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these next couple of chapters...

It was an intimate setting, with only a few individuals seated in the front two pews on both sides of the humble church. The sun entered through the stained glass windows and cast a rainbow of colors along the drab colored wall to the left. Unlike so many of the churches in Paris, this one lacked the funds to host statues and paintings of saints. Small alcoves in the walls remained empty of imagery, but were filled with lit candles.

Porthos stood at the podium with Aramis and d'Artagnan to his right. He turned when the doors opened and Treville and Athos both entered. Porthos smiled, took a deep breath, and relaxed. He lowered his hands at his sides, nodded to both of them, and then watched them each step forward and stand next to Constance.

Alice stood opposite Porthos. Dressed in a simple cream colored gown with an embroidered tapestry design of sparrows and sunflowers. Its bodice hugged her small waist and the sleeves of her dress broadened near her elbows and hugged her shoulders with lace that pulled attention to her beautiful features and long neck. Her family was gone, but her gardener, a wiry older man with spiked white hair and a long white beard stood to her right near the front pew. He stood for her along with his daughter and friend of Alice who stood beside her near the podium.

The priest cleared his throat and began the service.

Porthos, in need of support, reached for Alice's hand and held it. He looked at her and smiled, and she looked at him with the eyes of a wife, lover, and friend. Both of them had cursed themselves for separating when they had. When Alice allowed her fear to rule her actions, and when Porthos allowed her to walk away without a fight. It was nearly two years they missed being with each other, two years of not getting to know each other better, two years of creating a life for one another.

But it was never too late to start over. Porthos looked toward Athos, nodded with a confident smile, and took a deep breath. There was something about family. Porthos wasn't loosing the brothers he had gained as a Musketeer. He was gaining a life partner. He was marrying a woman who treat his brothers as one of her own. Just like Constance had. He glanced toward her and chuckled as she dabbed the corners of her eyes with her silk and lace handkerchief.

Words of promises were repeated.

Commitments were made.

Porthos looked at Alice and knew the love of his life stood before him, it was a love that allowed him to share his name with her, a love that would carry them both forward when age and time cursed their joints, and blessed their home. It was a gift Porthos never believed he was worthy to receive, but now he shared this moment with those he loved most.

Porthos took a deep breath, looked at his wife when the announcement was made and gently pulled her into a kiss.

Aramis and d'Artagnan cheered. Minister Treville stepped forward and congratulated them both, while Athos smiled from the sidelines and waited his turn. He felt Constance grasp his arm and squeezed his elbow. She looked beautiful, dressed in a simple blue gown with a cream neckline and wool shawl that was draped over her right arm. Her face glowed and she smiled as she looked at d'Artagnan and then at Alice, who held as tightly to Porthos as he did to her.

"It feels good to have someone I can talk to," Constance said. "Someone I can complain to." She chuckled and shrugged. "I know it's hard for you and the Musketeers… but," she paused, "it's hard for the wives too."

"I'm sorry," Athos said. "I often forget there is more to the Musketeers than just the men."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Constance said. "It's a part of them… the men. We, as women, need to understand that." She chuckled when Aramis and d'Artagnan each hugged Alice and introduced themselves to her guests. "I know you can't promise me that you'll get him home safe… but I'm asking you," she looked at Athos, "just… do your best."

Athos clinched his jaw and nodded once. "I'll do my best, Constance. I promise you."

Constance smiled appreciatively and then stepped forward to congratulate Alice and Porthos. The priest had stepped off to the side while family and friends joked and laughed as the afternoon continued.

Treville stepped away from the small group, adjusted his doublet, and gripped the hilt of the sword at his side. With his back to Porthos and the others, he faced Athos and cleared his throat. "I'll know more in the morning about your departure. King Louis has been hesitant to send his best men forward, but he knows he must." He looked to the closed doors and listened to the words that echoed throughout the chamber. "I know you're ready, but plan to depart by the end of the week."

"The old military documents… the ones Richelieu referenced on occasion…? Can I see them?"

Treville frowned and with a shrug he nodded. "Of course, though, I doubt you will find anything of use."

"Call it a," Athos shrugged, "a feeling I need to see to."

"After you've informed the men tomorrow, stop by my office. I'll take you to them." He cupped Athos' shoulder and left the room.

The hinges of the front doors whined when they were pulled open. The afternoon sun quickly made an appearance, but was just as quickly shut out when the doors were shut.

Athos watched Alice laugh and hug Constance, and he couldn't help but smile fondly as the two women whispered something to each other. Porthos motioned for Athos to join them and he stepped forward and congratulated them both. It was a bittersweet moment. Lives changed, commitments were solidified, partnerships were formed, and the threat of war hung in the air like a heavy fog that was difficult to see through.

"I always thought I would be the first to marry," Aramis said and stepped beside Athos. He took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the new couple. "I've had plenty of opportunities, mind you."

"Issues with commitment?" Athos asked with a chuckle.

Aramis shrugged. "In some ways, yes," he answered honestly. "In other ways, it was always a fear of marrying the wrong woman."

Athos nodded in understanding. "Allow Porthos this night, but I need to see everyone in the morning before muster."

Aramis looked at Athos. "Are you going to let them know?"

Athos nodded. "We're departing at the end of the week." He turned, gripped the handle of his sword and paused. "Say your goodbyes, Aramis… I'm not sure how long we will be gone."

Aramis clenched his jaw. "In the morning then?"

Athos looked at him, then looked at the floor, before he glanced one last time at the small group that continued to celebrate. "I'll see you then."

Aramis nodded and watched him leave.