I apologize that this next chapter has taken so long to be posted. Now that school has begun again and I will find myself facing some twelve plus hour days, I'm afraid that these chapters will continue to come at a much slower pace. But fear not, for I have not forgotten about this story or those of you who wait for me to post again! Feel free to review this and let me know what you think of the story so far! I'm always looking for new opinions and constructive feedback!

Chapter XII

"Katherine, did you hear me?"

Porthos tilted his head a little when he saw the startled expression on Katherine's face, having noted the distant gaze in her eyes before she suddenly seemed to return to the present moment and realize that he had spoken to her. She had been acting strangely since they had arrived at the palace almost three days earlier, looking rather pale and retreating from the company of others almost immediately after she had finished tending to D'Artagnan. Apparently she went about her tasks in silence now, refusing to even speak to the poor man who was still bound to his bed because his body had not yet recovered enough strength for him to stand and move on his own. Each day she guided him through a walk around the gardens and then lead him back to his room, cracking the windows open to allow for fresh air to reach his lungs. And after she had re-dressed his wound and stoked the fire to keep him warm at night she hurried back to her own room without even so much as a word to Aramis or anyone else. Aramis was growing concerned about her new found habits, which even now were beginning to worry Porthos as he took note of the changes in her person.

"No, I'm sorry Uncle, my mind must have been somewhere else. What was it you asked me?"

The old man frowned a little. "I asked if you had heard what was to happen for the ceremony."

Part of their cover for what had happened between Louis and Philippe was a special ceremony that would honour all of those involved in "saving" the life of the King. After another day and a half of conversation between them the details had finally been settled upon and plans were being made to ensure that the event passed as one of Louis' creation. The palace was being cleaned and the grand ballroom was once again being decorated for use as menus were finalized in the kitchens and invitations were sent out to all of the nobility. And with D'Artagnan seeming to improve everyday, it looked as though he might actually be able to partake without having to lean on Katherine for their walk down the hall to meet the King at the very end.

Katherine shrugged a little, glancing back at him with unconcerned eyes. "Vaguely," she began slowly. "Philippe mentioned some of what he was hoping to accomplish to me the other day, but I was not told any details of the ceremony itself. He only asked how best to turn the attention to those involved in the plot without revealing them to the public."

Ah, so that was where some of those thoughts had manifested, he thought to himself with a grunt. The boy had spoken to Katherine without anyone else around to ask for her opinion on the matter, a fact that he would need to report to Aramis as soon as he was able. He knew that his friend would not be pleased that Philippe had been isolated from the others with Katherine, especially if there was no knowledge of such a meeting occurring.

"Did you discuss anything else?" he asked as casually as possible, though Porthos was not known for his subtlety and instantly had Katherine's eyes on him as she raised a brow in his direction.

"No...why do you ask it in that way?"

Knowing himself to be caught in the middle of something potentially dangerous, Porthos had to think quickly on his feet and tell a bit of a lie. "Well, he is the King of course...but you did help save him from the Bastille. And he would be a foolish boy if he did not take note of how beautiful you are."

That seemed to distract her, for the girl quickly dropped her eyes as her cheeks began to burn brightly from embarrassment. Living in the monastery with Aramis meant that she was constantly surrounded by older men who had taken vows against such feelings toward women, but Porthos had never taken such an oath in his life and would die before he did so. As such, he was more than aware of the fact that nobody had paid his young niece such a compliment in her life, or so he presently thought.

"Regardless of how Philippe may look upon me, Uncle, it does not change our stations," Katherine said firmly, straightening her shoulders a little. "He is the King of France, and I am nothing more than the daughter of a priest...and truthfully am not even that. He simply asked for my thoughts on the matter so that everything was placed perfectly."

Her defences seemed to have risen at his question, Porthos noted as yet something else to bring up to Aramis later that day. But which part was she the most defensive about, he had to wonder, the fact that she had been alone with Philippe or the fact that she was a beautiful girl who had been alone with the King of France? When Louis had been on the throne he might have guessed the later, for that was how the fight between Louis and Athos had begun, over the King's desire to bed his son's love. Perhaps being reminded of the King that they had before, when coupled with the resemblance they bore to one another, had put Katherine in a bad position and immediately made her suspect what was happening around her. Whatever the reason, there was still reason to be cautious when it came to the time that the two younger people spent together. As much as Porthos did not believe that his beloved niece would harm the boy, he could not rule anything out until they had dug down to the root of the problem.

A soft sigh fell from Katherine's lips as she turned back down the corridor from which they came, her movements a little slower than they normally were. "I have to go," she murmured softly. "I need to tend to D'Artagnan."

Porthos gave a firm nod and rose to his own feet, wrapping the girl in a firm hug as he held her to his chest for a moment in a rare display of affection. "Do what you need to do," he told her, giving a bit of a squeeze before he released her entirely. "If anyone can get him on his feet for the ceremony it is you."

In response Katherine offered a weak smile and leaned in to gently kiss the older man on the cheek before she turned and moved away, leaving him alone in the corridor. He watched her go with a mixture of sadness and regret until her lithe form had disappeared around a corner.

"Poor girl," he muttered to himself. "She did not know what she was getting into."

"What on earth are you doing!?"

With his back turned to her from where he sat at the writing desk, D'Artagnan couldn't help but smirk a little as he calmly finished signing his name to the document before him and set the quill back in its holder. He turned himself slowly in the chair and managed to end up sideways before Katherine was kneeling before him with a look of absolute terror written across her face at seeing him out of bed so suddenly. Part of him felt a little guilty, making her feel that way, but he had run out of options. The night that Anne had come into his room to see him was the last time that Katherine had spoken in his presence despite the number of times that she had returned to clean and redress the wound on his back and lead him on a slow walk through the gardens. All of his efforts to engage her in a conversation had failed miserably as the girl avoided his eye and ignored his questions, almost as if he did not exist on her arm at all. Leaning heavily against the back of the chair, D'Artagnan looked down at his niece with a small smile, rather pleased that his plan had worked even though he was going to pay for the movements later.

"Trying to figure out what terrible thing has happened that would stop you from trusting me," he answered in his deep tone, reaching a hand forward to brush against her cheek. "You have not spoken to me since our first night here," he added in a softer, more hurtful voice. "Why is that, Kate?"

The girl stared at him in dismay, her mouth agap as she struggled to find the words of explaination that might get her out of the awkward situation she was now in. "I have not stopped trusting you," she breathed, but D'Artagnan was quick to jump on her words.

"No? Then why do you distance yourself from me? Why do you go on as if we mean nothing to each other?"

She shook her head a little, hands falling into her lap as she twisted her fingers tightly together in the folds of her skirt. "Because...because..."

But the captain was growing impatient, angry even that she could not sum up the reasons behind her change in attitude toward him after twenty years. "Because what, girl!? Spit it out!"

Katherine choked on a sob and dropped her head, burying her face in her hands as she pulled away from him a little and cowered before him like a disobedient child. "Because you don't need me anymore!"

Her answer stunned the captain entirely, causing him to straighten a little in his chair as his blue eyes looked down at the quivering form that huddled into the floor beneath his feet. The sobs that he heard took him aback as he listened in silence, being able to count the number of times he had seen Katherine cry in her lifetime on one hand. And yet here she was, pulling away from him even further because she seemed to believe that he no longer needed her in his life.

"Katherine."

She pulled away from his hand as he moved to reach out to her again, almost sensing what he would do before he had actually decided on the task. Seeing her recoil from him like that hit D'Artagnan hard as he watched the gentle shake that appeared in her shoulders with each small sob that spilled from her lips, utterly breaking his heart to know that she felt that way at all. What exactly he had done, or what she had seen through her own eyes, he did not yet understand. But D'Artagnan was not going to let the matter go quietly, not without further attempts to secure the information from his niece before she bolted completely from his presence.

As slowly and quietly as he was able, the musketeer began to lift his body from the chair and lower himself down to the floor, into the small space that had formed between himself and Katherine. It was a painful journey down that felt as if it took forever to accomplish before he was finally resting on his knees, leaning slightly against the chair for support. He took but a moment to catch his breath before he reached forward and gently pulled Katherine to him until her head rested in his lap and he could gently stroke her hair.

"Kate," he murmured gently, a hint of sadness in his tone. "Why would you think such a thing? You know that I would not be alive if it were not for you."

She shook her head in his lap, pressing her cheek to the top of his thigh. "Because it's true. You have your own family to care for now...you need not pretend that I mean anything to you. I am not your blood, nor am I even Papa's."

Was that was this was all about, he wondered to himself as he stared down at her with eyes of disbelief. She thought herself to no longer be important to him because he had now replaced her in his heart with a family of his own creation? Even in his weakened state, D'Artagnan was hurt that she would believe such a thing of him, trying to understand what it was that had first brought those thoughts to light.

"I was only a replacement, wasn't I?" she asked, her voice beginning to crack under the strain of her emotions. "You knew that Louis was your son, but you could never be his father when he was supposed to be the son of a king...so you used me to replace him, just like Uncle Athos has done for Raoul."

It was utterly heartbreaking to hear those words spoken from her, from someone that he had come to love so deeply. But he supposed that part of that feeling was his own fault, and he had to acknowledge the role that he played in hurting Katherine. The poor child did not know everything there was to know about herself, and therefore had grown up with holes missing from her story...holes that he had hoped to fill one day.

"Child, look at me." His voice was still soft as he nudged her chin with his fingers, catching her attention almost immediately for use of a word that he had not associated with her in many years. Her tear streaked face was quickly taken in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her warm cheek as Katherine tilted her head to lay it in his larger hand completely. At least he could take this as a good sign, he thought silently. "It is true, I had to watch Louis grow up believing himself to be another man's son," he began, wiping her tears away slowly. "And I never had the chance to know that Philippe existed until the night they tried to put him in Louis' place. But you must understand something very important. While I may not be your father, I still love you as if you were my own. You have brought me more pride over the twenty years of your life than I had ever dared hope I would feel when I looked upon Louis." The small closed-mouth smile that he was fond of wearing had appeared once again on his face as he looked down on her, his eyes shimmering in the light that filtered in through the window. But Katherine saw something else when she looked at him as well, and couldn't help but draw her head back a little in uncertainty. Were those tears?

"Aramis raised you as his daughter after you were delivered to the step of the monastery," he continued, retaining his gaze on her. "You may call me uncle, but I have always looked upon you as my daughter. No matter what you may believe, you could never be replaced in my heart."

Blue met blue for a moment as Katherine stared straight ahead into her Uncle's eyes, watching the shift of emotion overtake him and a single tear begin to run from the corner of his eye. Being a man, and a captain of the musketeers no less, left no room for such things to be seen in the presence of other people when it could easily be taken for a sign of weakness. Were it anyone else who sat there with him, aside from perhaps his closest friends, he might not have just sat there and allowed it to happen. But he was there with Katherine, with someone who had been vulnerable her whole life because of her sex and yet refused to let anything force her into submission by intimidating her. Where there was someone who shivered from the cold, she was there with a blanket. When a person was bleeding from a fight and needed to be looked after, she was there to help clean their wounds. She had been raised with a heart of gold in his opinion, caring more for the safety of other people than she did for her own welfare, which had sometimes worried him when she was younger in case she reach out to help the wrong people.

Seeing the tear startled the girl a little as she looked up at her uncle, hardly daring to believe that he was showing such a vulnerable side of himself to her. But to know that he trusted her enough to allow his emotions to show through his tougher exterior touched her deeply and allowed her to reach out slowly to brush the tear away with a soft stroke of her fingers. Neither of them spoke a word as she did so, removing her fingers just as slowly as they had appeared before she murmured softly to him. "You should not be on the floor, you know. You might catch an awful chill down here."

Katherine pulled back from his hand and rose lightly to her feet, bending over to take a firm hold on one of his arms to tug him upward. He groaned despite himself as he moved, forcing his legs to push from beneath his body until Katherine was able to grab his other arm and plant herself firmly into the carpet. D'Artagnan leaned heavily into her body and gripped her arms tightly, pushing through grit teeth until he was in a standing position, breathing a little heavily from the effort. She couldn't help but smile a little.

"Now look at what you have done," she chastised with a teasing tone. "Philippe is going to be rather upset with me if you keep doing this. He would like to see you walking on your own accord for the ceremony."

Talk of the fake pageant that was to come was just what was needed to bring a deep rumbling chuckle to D'Artagnan's lips. "And if I cannot, then I know I can count on you to hold me upright."

"Being held up by a girl before the whole court?" she asked, shaking her head a little as she stepped into him and wrapped one arm around his lower back. "What would your men say?"

She couldn't help but notice the small grimace on his face when they began to move back toward the bed, glad that he would not need to try and lift his body back onto the mattress but simply allow himself to fall a little. Once at the edge, she again adjusted the hold that she had around him and flipped the side of the blankets away before she lowered him slowly onto the bed. "I am sure they would all be rather jealous," he said simply as he turned himself around to lay lengthwise and rest back against the pillows. "I would have the most beautiful young woman in the room on my arm at all times."

Again she felt her cheeks begin to burn a little at his words, much in the way that they had earlier when Porthos had spoken to her about the way that Philippe was sure to have noticed her. Why on earth they had all begun speaking to her like that was lost on Katherine, who pulled the blankets back over D'Artagnan's body and tucked them tightly around his legs to prevent any cold chills from reaching him.

"Now you are just speaking nonsense," the girl told him, crossing the room to close the windows. "There is no reason for anyone to pay any mind to me at all."

As his eyes followed her form, watching as she drew the curtains before the window and went to stoke the fire up again, D'Artagnan couldn't help but wish that she might once see herself through the eyes of someone else. Even he had come to notice the looks that men had begun to give Katherine as she walked by, staring to the point of being wide eyed and looking absolutely foolish in the streets when she moved about the market. They often pointed and whispered to themselves, noting that she would come from the monastery to purchase some necessities before she went back inside to her quiet life of being surrounded by priests and prayer, commenting on what a shame it was that she lived inside those walls. Their first moments in the palace were ones that D'Artagnan remembered despite the pain he was in, noting how Philippe's eye had looked upon his niece with a gentle admiration when he had seen just how earnestly she tended to him.

"But they will," he promised quietly, in a voice meant just for himself. "They will."

With her smaller tasks now complete, Katherine made her way back over to the bed and sat lightly on the edge of it, facing her uncle but dropping her head a little with guilt ridden eyes. "I am sorry for the trouble I caused you," she murmured softly, daring to lift her eyes only a little. "But when I stand in the same room as Philippe and the Queen, I cannot help but feel invisible and insignificant, even to you."

After a moment, he nodded in understanding. "In a place such a this," he began, gesturing to the room in which they sat. "I think it is quite easy for someone to feel that way."

It wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, and he knew it almost immediately when he saw the look that crossed her face when she yet again turned her head away to avoid his gaze. D'Artagnan sighed softly and moved to adjust his placement on the bed before he lightly patted the space he had created for her. Katherine waited long enough to kick off her shoes before she curled up on the mattress beside him, allowing her head to lay gently against his chest. "I confess that I do not fully understand what has made you so sad," D'Artagnan said, laying his left arm across his body to hold her a little closer while his right hand stroked her hair. "Whatever it is, I know that I am part of the cause, and for that I am sorry. I only wish to see you happy."

The girl sighed softly, closing her eyes against the soothing feeling of his hand on her hair. "But I do not know what would make me happy," she murmured. "Sometimes I think I would be happy back in the monastery with Papa. Sometimes I want nothing more than to be a musketeer and always at your side. And then I see how the Queen looks at you." D'Artagnan stopped for a moment and looked down at Katherine, curious to know what it was that she had seen when Anne had come into his room so quickly the other night. "And all I want is for someone to look on me like that, with love so deep that it could fill a whole room in an instant."

He couldn't help but smile to himself at the thought, knowing just how his heart would leap when he passed her in the corridors during his years of service as a musketeer. How he had caught her eye, he would probably never know, but now he could not imagine his life without her presence. Even if they were still forced to play their parts before the world he knew in his heart that she would forever remain there, and he in her's.

"I can only hope that one day you might discover that kind of love," he said, leaning his head down to gently kiss the top of her head before he resumed his movements against her hair. "You are an extraordinary young woman, ma petite. It will take an extraordinary man to be worthy of you."

He looked down at her again, expecting her to respond in her typical fashion of disbelief when he smiled. Somewhere in their brief conversation, Katherine had fallen asleep against his chest, her breathing even as she cuddled toward the warmth of his body. The last time she had fallen asleep in such a way she had been a young child, exhausted from hours of riding, running and playing. He could still remember the day that they had shared, a picnic by the edge of the river meant to amuse a girl who had grown too restless for anyone else to handle that day when D'Artagnan had stopped by the monastery to see Aramis. She'd looked just as peaceful then, he thought to himself, but now she was no longer that tiny child he could pick up and carry around without issue, at least not in his present condition. Part of him refused to think that she had grown too much for him to carry if needed. But as the night began to settle in, he decided not to wake her, though he couldn't help but frown a little when he noted how warm her skin felt under his touch. Perhaps it was nothing though, for the room itself was kept rather warm for his own benefit while he healed. As he shrugged away the concern he felt, D'Artagnan reached across the bed and pulled the corner of the blanket over until it covered the both of them, gently pressing a kiss to her temple before resting back on his pillows and closing his own eyes.

"Good night, ma petite."