Author's Note: Heather was beta...she's putting up with me again, so thank her. This story takes place in my mind 19 years after the 'end' of Young Blades, or what should've been the end. Mazarin got banished 20 years ago as Jacqueline and d'Artagnan got married, and the 'finale' was her having her son. The orginal musketeers are in this for my purposes. I know they should be dead, but well... it's my story, so there. Please review...tell me what you think of this 'future fic'. Meg

Prologue

She stood in the shadows. Her heart pounded against her chest and she desperately tried to slow her breathing. She was frightened they would hear her. In her seventeen years, she had never been more afraid. She fiddled with her necklace as she tried to push her fear back and think. She tried to remember what had started this. Gerard! Her cocky, arrogant, irresponsible brother; named for an uncle they had never known, and from the stories their mother told, considerably different from her brother. Her brother was always getting himself and her in trouble. Her mind replayed an earlier scene.

Swords clashed and retracted in the morning sun. She raised her rapier high, attacking. Gerard pushed his against hers and they stood locked, shoving hard. His faced showed his trademark, cocky smile.

"You will never be as good as a musketeer, little sister." He taunted as he ran his rapier against hers slowly, teasing her to attack him. He attacked low and fast, but she thrust her rapier at him with sudden renewed energy, forcing him back. He stumbled slightly.

"Your arrogance is your weakness, brother." Anger flashed in his dark eyes and he attacked, knocking her rapier out of his hand and into his. He held it up, mockingly. "I win; you get to take the basket to Duval." He threw the basket at her and turned, leaving her to think about her mistake, how she had let him win this time and the sorrow she felt at disappointing her grandfather because she was not as good as a musketeer.

She shook the memory away as a voice sounded nearby.

"Find her! I want her arrested. We can not risk that little brat spoiling our plans!" She could hear him spitting the words out. Her fear returned and she took a deep breath, forcing it down so she could relax. She had to remain perfectly still. Her memory went back to just a few minutes ago, after she had delivered the basket to Duval and wondered into the marketplace as she never was allowed to go too far.

The cardinal spoke first. "Arrest her! There can be no witnesses." With that, she had pulled out her rapier and struck down the only two guards with them and took off in a panicked run. She had turned and dashed foolishly down an abandoned alley with a dead-end. Mazarin turned back to the baron with annoyance.

"Guards! After her!" the baron shouted at them.

"Cardinal Mazarin, welcome back to France," the baron said. The cardinal showed no outward emotion.

"Is the plans ready to be executed?" Mazarin asked with irritation.

"Yes, your grace. The king will be dead, and the musketeers gone within a fortnight." She had gasped oas she ran hearing this, wondering what to do, she was now traped.

The memory faded as footsteps could be heard approaching. Six guards of the baron neared her. She pushed herself further back in the shadows, hoping they could pass by. Suddenly, after several tense moments, a hand grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. The guard snatched her rapier and threw her to the ground in front of the captain. He approached her, smiling.

"Mademoiselle d'Artagnan." He sneered at her as he yanked her up and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "A lady of your station should not travel alone; it can be dangerous." He nodded to the guards. "You are under arrest by the order of Baron Lapel." Two guards approached her.

She stood, jaw set, eyes grim and determined although she was alone and unarmed, and there was six of them.