As Aramis plodded down the hilly landscape, a letter grasped in his hand, a warm breeze blew by him and his steed. He passed the farms with many stares emanating from the farmers and their wives, the men harvesting the wheat and the women tending to their children and their animals. He looked ahead in grim determination, unsure of himself yet again, unsure of how she would react to his presence, to the letter which he carried from D'Artagnan and the king himself. He himself was unsure of how her… her husband… would react to his presence. It had been many years since he had last seen her, and he had not yet seen her husband or her children she had given birth to, though he was sure that by this time, they must be almost adults, and ready to leave home, but they may be younger, or very few or many or-

He had to stop thinking like this. If he kept it up, he'd be in quite a state by the time he got there.

When he saw her again, he was stunned, yet again, at her breath taking beauty. Even with a small child in her arms, who was crying profusely, a horse nibbling at her shoulder, and a young man chasing a pig which darted right in front of her, she still managed to look as beautiful as the day he met her so many years previously, before he had become a priest, before D'Artagnan had become head of the Musketeers, before Queen Anne had given birth to twins, before all of that. Her golden hair shone in the sun, her pale skin was still milky white, despite all the sun she had been absorbing, her large dark blue eyes were still sparkling and her figure was still slim, despite the children she had birthed. As he came closer, the young child stopped crying suddenly and pointed at Aramis, his large blue eyes watching Aramis closely, a hint of amazement in them. His mother looked at her child with a surprised look, and then looked in the direction his tiny finger was pointing. When she saw Aramis, she broke into a smile and walked toward him and his horse, the brown horse she had behind her had its ears perked up and it eagerly followed its mistress, as curious as the child about this new stranger, but it gave a friendly whicker as it saw its mistress look unafraid. Aramis dismounted a few feet from the woman and her children and horse, and strode toward her, kneeling and kissing her hand, then standing up and straightening himself.

"Hello Leona." He greeted her.

"Hello Aramis, it is good to see you again."

"And you too. I have come to deliver a message from D'Artagnan, and the king."

Leona's eyes widened at the news, she set down the child, who scurried off into the distance, followed by a yapping puppy. "The king?" she asked disbelievingly. Aramis nodded his head.

"Yes, the king."

He handed Leona the letter. She gently took it from him and walked over to the barn, which she leaned against while reading. She rolled it back up and tied it with the ribbon then walked up to Aramis, her jaw set, a look of fierce determination in her eyes.

"I cannot."

"And why is that?"

"My family, Aramis. They need me more than the musketeers do."

"Your family." Aramis repeated slowly.

"Yes Aramis, my family. They are my life now, they are my life and more, I have two children who will be adults in a couple of years, and two which are under ten years of age. I am training the older ones to become swordsmen, and the younger ones will follow in their footsteps. When the older ones are adults, their life goals seem to become musketeers, from what they tell me. You can have them when the time comes, not me."

Leona looked into Aramis's deep brown eyes with such fiery stubbornness he remembered so well. When she had that look in her eyes, it meant that not even a tornado could move her in her decision. She had that look in her eyes when she announced to the musketeers that she was leaving them to start a family, but when Aramis confronted her about it, she admitted it was her father's dying wish that she marry a young farmer named Gerard, and she felt compelled to obey him in his death bed. Aramis wiped the memory from his mind as quickly as it came to him.

"Will you not reconsider? We at the musketeers…miss… your presence greatly."

Leona and Aramis knew exactly what that meant.

"You're a priest Aramis, and I am already married. It-" Leona whispered softly, trying to keep her eyes composed and as blank as she could manage, and was abruptly cut off by her husband who rudely shouted as he came out of the wheat field behind them:

"OY! Who're you, and what business do you have with my wife?" he shouted at Aramis, covered in sweat and grime, and stripped to the waist. Aramis stiffened and answered with as much politeness he could muster from the intense anger boiling up from inside that Leona was married to such a crude slob.

"Nothing, sir, I was just visiting an old friend, Good-day to you both."

Aramis mounted his horse and turned away, but was stopped by Leona, who grabbed his horse's reigns. Her husband walked away but turned around a few meters away when he saw his wife give Aramis parting words.

"I've always loved you Aramis, and only married Gerard because of my father. Please don't ever come back." She whispered up to him. He looked at her one last time before saying:

"And I've always loved you as well. Goodbye Leona, my only love."

And turning his horse away and galloping away from Leona and her family. Leona felt tears of bitterness seeping slowly down her cheeks as Aramis rode away for the last time.