"Anne?"

Anne, the Queen Mother, turned. She was a beautiful young woman, having been married to the old king when she was nineteen and now at forty, her eyes seemed to be the only thing that had aged. Anne had fallen in love with D'Artagnan the moment she had set foot in the palace and saw him. The king died three years after they where married and Anne had gradually faded into the background of palace life. She kept few around her but one that she always welcomed, was Celeste. Partly because she was D'Artagnan's niece but also partly because Celeste was so bright and outgoing. She lifted Anne's spirits.

"Celeste, I was waiting for you."

"And you do not wait in vain." Celeste handed her D'Artagnan's note. "I shall leave you to read your note in peace."

"We must talk later," said Anne.

"We shall," promised Celeste as she left the Queen's chambers. She hurried down the hall and through several more hallways until she came her own small apartments. Directly across the hallway where her Uncle's apartments. Celeste entered her own and came out moments later, in a drastically different outfit. It was the uniform of the musketeers. Sized down to fit her small, delicate body, it was identical to the one her Uncle wore. Everything from her black pants, long black shirt and blue overlaying cape, was just like what the musketeers wore. Her silver sword was buckled around her small waist and she had black boots on. She put her blue hat on, complete with a blue feather and went the down the hallway.

The stable master greeted her by name. "Off again, Mademoiselle Celeste?"

"Of course." Celeste turned her stallion around and galloped out of the stable. She stopped only when she was outside the large stately monastery that was set next to the cathedral of Notre Dame. She swung off her horse's back and hurried inside, taking off her hat as she quickly wove her way through the confusing passageways. She knocked softly on a door.

"Who is it?" came a deep voice.

"Celeste."

There was a moment of silence and the door opened. "Celeste! How good to see you." Aramis, retired musketeer, looked down both halls and then pulled her inside. He smiled at her. "How are you?"

Celeste tossed her hat on the table. "Well. And you?"

"Much better now that you have come to brighten my day." Aramis sat back down at his desk. "How go things at the palace?"

Celeste sighed. She stood in front of him. "Louis is starting to rant about the Jesuits."

Aramis's smile faded. "Really?"

"Yes. He's blaming the riots on them."

Aramis smacked his hand down on the table angrily. "And D'Artagnan?"

"I tried to tell him they have no food but he's not listening. He's become…preoccupied."

"Is that all?"

"No," said Celeste. She turned away from him. "There's more."

Aramis waited but when she said nothing, he stood. He came around and bent to look into her face. "What is it?"

"Louis…Louis spoke to D'Artagnan about me. And my refusals of his attention."

Something flickered in Aramis's eyes. He wouldn't have admitted it for the world at that moment, but he was in love. With Celeste none the less. And he rankled him the way Louis pursued her. He had been in love with her since she was nineteen. But he was a preist. And she was a beautiful, ravishing young girl with the world at her finger tips. "And what did D'Artagnan say?"

"He asked me to try and like him."

"How could he do something like that?"

"He wants nothing but Louis's happiness."

"Even at the cost of his own niece?"

"Aramis," warned Celeste. It angered her whenever anyone spoke ill of her dear Uncle. D'Artagnan did the best he could and Celeste would have nothing bad said about him. Especially in the light of the secrets that she knew. "We have more important things to talk about."

"You're right. My position as the Jesuit leader is becoming more and more dangerous," said Aramis.

"And my being a Jesuit, the only female Jesuit, it even more dangerous," said Celeste. "Not only for me, but for D'Artagnan as well. I'm staking far more than I care to on this."

"What do you mean?" asked Aramis.

"If it was just my life, my reputation that I was staking, I wouldn't care. But D'Artagnan…I don't feel right putting him in this danger."

"You're far too independent for a woman," said Aramis. "And you're right. D'Artagnan would have my head if he knew any of this. The very thought of it…I putting his beloved niece in danger…"

"And yours would be forfeit to him." Celeste looked at Aramis. "Aramis, we must do something about the riots. The city is crawling with would-be assassins. Anne and I fear for D'Artagnan."

"And what does Louis say to all this? Cannot he not give them the food they seek?"

"You are stupid if you think Louis would give them anything," said Celeste.

Aramis sighed. He leaned against his desk. "I often wonder if things would be different if the younger had stayed and the older had gone."

"It is useless to wonder such things now," said Celeste. "What's done is done. We must look to the future of Paris."

Aramis looked at her for a long moment. "Yes. Yes, we must."

They where silent for a few moments.

Suddenly Celeste turned to him. "Have you seen Athos lately?"

"No," said Aramis. "I've been up to my neck with the Jesuits."

"Neither have I," said Celeste. "I've been clutching my dresses up to my neck, fending off Louis."

Aramis's face went dark.

"But I have seen Porthos." Celeste smiled. "Quite often."

Aramis groaned. "He pesters me all the time."

"He does not pester me. He makes me laugh," said Celeste.

Aramis looked at her. "Then I guess he is good for something."