Thank you for your patience while I made it through this last chapter. I was hit with a rather nasty case of writer's block (as well as a few personal health issues) that made it a little difficult to continue. But I'm back and hoping to bust out some more chapters of this story soon! I'd love for you guys to leave me a review when you finish reading this, and thank you SO much to those who have been following this as well as my last stories under this fandom. I am rather overwhelmed by the response that I've gotten from people and I'm thrilled to see that there are so many people liking and subscribing to my work!

Chapter Three

It did not take her long to realize where they were going. Unknown to most people who didn't frequently find themselves at court, there was a small antechamber just off to the side of the ballroom, a room that Katherine was rather familiar with. When she had first been summoned to court after the events at the Bastille, it had been in this room that she had waited with an injured D'Artagnan at her side. She had been rather angry with him for insisting that he come along to answer the royal summons when she had only just managed to save his life from an otherwise fatal wound, but she had been powerless to stop him. And so she had waited there until permission had been given to present her to Queen Anne, her arms encircling his broken body in an effort to keep him standing on his own two feet.

A shiver ran through her body as she looked around the space. She certainly hadn't missed standing there. It brought back a wave of memories that she would just as soon forget, her hand reaching across her body to touch her right side subconsciously. They had both been injured then, she remembered. And though his wounds had been far more serious on the outside at the time, she had been sporting an injury of her own that proved to be near fatal due to her own negligence. It had not been the happiest of times for them. But they had made it through and now Katherine was anxious to find out what was happening so that she could remove herself from this chamber as quickly as possible.

As she approached the small group ahead of her with her father still at her side, Kate realized that they were not entirely alone. The uniform that the younger lad wore was unmistakably one that belonged to a messenger of the King, having seen them several times moving in and out of the palace in the time that she had been a guest of His Majesty. Athos and Andre stood close together, D'Artagnan standing almost right against Philippe's shoulder. Not wishing to disturb anything she stepped in just behind Athos, quickly followed by her father and then Porthos and Anne who had hurried from the ballroom as well. The messenger bowed to them all, the look on his face betraying a look that instantly had Kate's nerves set on edge.

"What is it?" asked Philippe.

"Your Majesty," the messenger bowed again to Philippe, this time keeping himself in that lowered position. "English ships have been spotted along the channel and moving away from Calais. Several ports have now reported seeing them and they fear that they will continue into our waters. They are war ships, sire."

Despite the silence that ultimately filled the room, there was a vast amount of tension to be found in there as well. Katherine turned her head to observe how the news had affected the postures of her uncle's. She had certainly heard her father's low growl in his throat, and Athos had clenched his hands into fists as well. But she wasn't sure how the others had accepted the news, for the only one who seemed to stand there without a trace of anger was the Dowager Queen, who was by now likely to be used to such bold moves by the English. No doubt she had heard several messengers come to her before with such news, and her years of practice at sitting in such a public office had likely prevented her from having any outward reactions to the news.

Philippe frowned heavily. "Have the ports continue to watch their movements for now. If they fear for even an instant that they will be attacked without provocation then you are to send word back to me immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

The messenger hurried to pick himself up and leave the room while showing proper respect to his King, taking a few moments more before he was safely out the door and their small group was left alone once more. But the silence didn't last.

"I'm afraid it's progressed beyond that," D'Artagnan told them quickly, stepping forward and turning himself so that he could address their small assembly. "English spies were seen only a few miles outside the city two days ago. Unfortunately we were unable to apprehend them before they were scared off by a contingent of French troops on their way to Calais."

"Do you think they are going to try and invade again?" Katherine asked quietly.

D'Artagnan sighed softly, turning his eyes to look at her. "We cannot be sure, ma petite. The rivalry between the French and English thrones goes back to the days of their Henry VIII. And every ruler since then has claimed to be the true heir to the French throne."

"But they mean to start another war, there is no mistaking that," Andre interjected.

"If they are that desperate to get their hands on the French crown then it is a possibility," Aramis acknowledged.

But Andre wasn't finished. "Then we will fight them," he declared passionately. "We'll fight them and die before we allow them to rule over us!"

"It's not as simple as that," Porthos declared quickly, looking at the younger musketeer with a shake of his head. "We are not prepared for a war."

D'Artagnan nodded in agreement. "Louis's war with the Dutch took a toll. And his unpopularity with the people saw more men hide from the lists rather than jumping to sign their names."

Katherine chewed on her lower lip before movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention away from the conversation. Athos had turned rather quickly from the group and moved toward the outer wall of the room without a word, his hands balled into tight fists that trembled. Even in the poor lighting of the antechamber the young woman could sense that something was terribly wrong, and her heart sank a little as she looked at her father. Aramis seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and turned as if he might approach Athos when his daughter's gentle touch to his arm stopped him. She spoke not a word as she shook her head at him, nodding instead that he maintain his presence in their current conversation. Andre was getting rather worked up about the potential of going to war with the English, and D'Artagnan would need all of the level headed minds that were available in order to prevent things from exploding.

The brunette turned herself around and slowly moved away from the group, feeling her father's gaze on her for a few more moments before she forced herself to focus on Athos. His back was still to her, and Kate was careful when she reached out to touch his shoulder that she didn't startle him from whatever thoughts were plaguing his mind. It didn't take a genius to know what was bothering him. The last war had stolen something precious from him, and that was a pain that she didn't think he would ever truly recover from.

"Uncle Athos?"

"I am alright, my dear."

Katherine frowned softly, coming to stand just a little closer and edging her way around the side of his body so that she might see his face. "I know you better than that," she told him gently. "It's the talk of the war…isn't it?"

Athos didn't immediately turn to look her in the eye, but he didn't need to. As she inched her way closer to the front of his body she could see the welling of tears in his eyes, the haunted look that seemed to completely overtake his features. If there had been any doubt before, it was gone now. She did not need to be told what thoughts plagued his mind.

"He did what he thought was right."

A small turn of his head was all it took. Katherine knew that she had his attention as he stared at her with his heartbroken expression and quickly pressed herself a little closer to him so that both of her hands could touch the soft material of the tunic that sat against his shoulder. It was a tender subject to broach with him, even after the time that had passed. And truth be told she really wasn't sure how he would react. The last time he had spoken openly about Raoul had been a few weeks back when they had been in the garden together and Athos had begged her to never again risk putting her father through the same anguish that he had experienced in the loss of his only son. It had broken her heart then, and the feeling didn't lessen as she stood there in his gaze. Katherine inhaled slowly, mentally preparing for any flash of anger that might rise in his body.

"I loved him like a brother," she continued in the same soft tone, not wishing for anyone else to come wandering their way just yet. "And I feel the pain of his absence every day. But you and I both know that there isn't a force on Earth that would have stopped Raoul from returning to the front once he received his orders. He was far too noble to hide like that. And he learned that from you."

Here she paused, biting nervously on her lower lip as she searched her uncle's face for some kind of outward reaction. "The first time he left, he made me promise that if anything ever happened to him that I would be there to comfort you. And when he came home safely I spent hours on my knees because I was so thankful that he was alive. I know there is something more in your heart than just the pain of his loss, Uncle Athos –"

"I couldn't handle it," he murmured, cutting her off. "When I lost my son…all I could feel was rage, and a bitterness that wouldn't go away. All I wanted was some kind of revenge for his death…I didn't care how it came."

He wasn't looking at her now, but rather through her as if the memories were playing out before his eyes once more. He trembled slightly beneath the touch of her fingertips as they grew clearer. Out of instinct Katherine moved herself in as close as she could manage, allowing her body to offer some kind of support for him in case the emotions should overtake her normally steady uncle. But as quickly as they appeared they seemed to fade away into the past once more, and his eyes slowly turned to focus on her. Perhaps it was the look of concern that she wore that had him reaching out to press his rough hand against her cheek, his thumb gently grazing the skin in a soothing gesture. Perhaps it was for his own comfort that he did so. She wasn't entirely sure which was true. And for the moment, she wasn't interested in asking.

"I do not want to feel that way again," whispered the musketeer. "To feel like I will be alone with my anger and hatred for the remainder of my days until one of them destroys me completely. I cannot lose another person I love to a war."

In a flash the young woman had wrapped her arms around him as tightly as her smaller frame could manage, burying her face against the side of his neck. The response to her hug was instantaneous. Athos wasted no time in almost catching her body against his, holding her tightly to him as he too buried his face against the softness of her dark locks, his eyes firmly shut against the horrifying images that he saw. It was unseemly for a musketeer to cry. They were men of action, far too detached from their emotions to let them show so easily. Yet there in the comforting embrace of his niece he could feel his resolve begin to slip as a few tears managed to squeeze themselves from the corners of his eyes, running their course down his cheeks and into Katherine's hair.

"You will never be alone. I promise," she assured him, lifting her head and pulling back just enough that she could reach out to brush away the trails of his tears. "I will always be here, because…well…" Katherine let out a hollow laugh. "Let's face it, Uncle. I am twenty years old now. If I were going to leave you, I would have done so by now."

But the musketeer was not immediately convinced of her words, and it showed in his face as the older man shook his head a little. "It may surprise you, my dear, but I believe your future is coming for you yet."

There was no mistaking the meaning in his words, and Katherine found her cheeks flushing furiously under his gaze. All of a sudden the room felt entirely too hot. "You're speaking nonsense. I have no intention of going anywhere."

"Maybe you don't," he acknowledged, nodding his head a little as he leaned forward to press a firm kiss to her forehead. "But I believe that someone else does."

Katherine shook her dark head at him, dropping her eyes lest he see the level of embarrassment they were sure to contain now. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest that she was sure he would be able to hear it even with the other conversation still in the room, a conversation that had grown louder since they had left it. A small frown formed on her face as her bright blue orbs lifted to look back at the group, finding that it had indeed grown in size. The members of the Privy Council were now present, having arrived without her notice. Oh good, she thought to herself. After the spectacle that Philippe had made earlier in the ballroom they were sure to be rather hostile toward her presence, even if she had removed herself from all currently conversation.

The young woman looked back at her uncle, letting the frown slip away as she turned her thoughts back to him and his frame of mind. This was not going to be an easy task for him to handle, she knew that. And she knew that he was all too aware of that fact as well. But what could they do? Philippe had long since appointed them to his Privy Council as his advisors, and so their presence in the room was expected if not required. Was he going to be up to the task?

"We should rejoin them."

Katherine blinked at him for a moment, her uncertainty plain. "Are you sure?"

Athos nodded, glancing back toward the squabble of voices. "If we are to avoid some kind of civil war within this room, it might be wise."

In a way she knew that it was intended to be a joke, but the laughter didn't quite reach his eyes. And as she slowly turned her attentions back toward the discussion at hand she came to realize that his words were rather serious. It was plain to the eye and ear that they were divided in their desires, that most of the council was in favour of a war with England and her own family stood in opposition to this idea. The frown reappeared on Katherine's face as she felt her uncle's hand against her lower back, guiding her back into the cacophony of sound that had erupted from the center of the room.

"We cannot risk creating a war that isn't intended!" D'Artagnan argued.

"And how do you know that that is not exactly what the English want?" demanded one of the more senior members of the council, openly glaring at D'Artagnan.

This time it was Porthos who interjected. "Risking the lives of our soldiers without certainty is a foolish move!"

"They have invaded our shores before!"

"We barely survived our encounter with the Dutch!"

"They want to rule our country! Change our laws! Ban our religion!"

"Stop this, all of you!"

But Katherine's command went unheeded. Back and forth the argument went like a ball in a tennis match, each side spitting out their words in harsh tones that would surely attract the attention of those in the ballroom if at any time the orchestra ceased to play. Her eyes darted toward the Dowager Queen, anxiously begging in silence for something that might be said or done to end their quarrel. Yet it seemed that Anne could offer nothing, for she had stepped back from the group and simply shook her head sadly in Katherine's direction. It would be simple enough for her to speak and therefore bring it to an end, since they all regarded her as still being their Queen in place of the wife that Philippe had not yet taken. But she knew that this fight was not hers to take on.

"ENOUGH!"

Silence filled the room almost instantly, every eye turning toward their enraged King.

"I will hear no more of this tonight," he commanded. "You will all be present in the Privy Council chambers by nine tomorrow to discuss this in further detail. Now go!"

With a wave of his hand and a brisk tone of voice, Philippe had dismissed all of those present in the room. The council members were quick to bow and offer their muttered apologies, but Philippe paid them no mind. He watched as each slowly removed himself from the chamber, his chest heaving slightly as he struggled to regain control of himself. Anne offered her own curtsey to her son and was followed from the chamber by D'Artagnan and Athos. For a moment Kate watched him, noting the way that his eyes never once looked in her direction, and she took that as a sign that she too was dismissed.

Lowering herself slowly into a deep curtsey, Katherine kept her eyes down as she turned to follow the others from the room, gasping softly when she felt a hand reach out and tighten around her wrist to prevent her from taking further steps. She glanced backward, her eyes trained on the hand that held her. She uttered not another word as the remainder of her family left the antechamber and hurried their separate ways, leaving only she and Philippe to stand in the room. Neither moved a muscle until the doors were safely closed. And when the familiar thud was heard, the tension seemed to drop from the young King's shoulders almost instantly.

"I'm sorry," he muttered to her, hanging his head slightly as the fingers began to loosen around her wrist and slid down to take her hand in a much gentler manner. "For earlier. I…I don't know what came over me-"

"Hush," came Katherine's soothing tone as she spun around quickly and moved to stand before him, her free hand touching his lips. "There is no need to apologize. No one saw anything."

The boy let out a frustrated growl as he felt her fingertips slip around to caress his cheek, turning his head instinctively into her touch. "I hate this," he whispered harshly. "I hate having to hide-"

"I know. But for the time being, that is what we need to do. I will not put your life at risk for me."

Philippe pulled her to him, holding her as close as he could manage as his forehead came to rest against her own. His eyes closed, the frown still on his face, but at least here he could breathe her in. Here, in the privacy that the chamber offered to them for the moment, he was able to just be himself and not the regal King that everyone else expected him to be. Ever since the events of Chateau Montblanc, when he had been prepared to sacrifice himself in order to save her from his twin brother, they had given up on trying to keep the other from the feelings that caused them both so much agony. He had gone with the intention of saving her, only to find that the two of them were to remain prisoners and used as bait for their fathers.

And even though it had been several weeks now since that time, Philippe still found himself to be suffering from nightmares. He would be standing in that room again, watching as his brother held the knife to the throat of the woman that he loved. He saw Katherine look at him, her eyes conveying just how sorry that she was for what she was about to do…and then he watched the two of them tumble from the open window, disappearing from sight before Philippe even had the chance to scream her name one last time.

There had been a happy ending of sorts to that episode, and he knew that. Katherine was still in his arms thanks to the incredible timing of her Uncle Porthos a number of stories down. Louis had been the unfortunate casualty that they hadn't been able to save. Yet there was still a fear within his heart that he had nearly lost her forever. And no matter how many times the young man tried to tell himself otherwise, he knew that he was still terrified of one day losing her.

"Philippe?"

The softness of her voice brought him back to the present. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her again, slowly opening his eyes to see the look of concern that had grown on her face. "I'm just…I'm afraid, Kate. I'm afraid of so many things right now, and I don't know what I would do if I were to somehow lose you."

Before he knew it, her lips were pressed against his and his eyes had instinctively closed once more. It was a rather bold move on her part, something that she had never done before. Any kisses that were exchanged between them had always been started by him, and so Philippe was slightly caught off guard to feel the urgency with which she pressed her body against his. He held her close though, his arms tightening around her body until he could feel almost every inch of her tightly held against him. His lips moved with the same gentleness as her own, though the feeling of need was certainly not lost between them.

And for a few moments he was content to remain that way, feeling her fingers lace themselves through his hand as she pulled his head down toward her own. When at last they pulled apart it was only their lips that lost contact, for Philippe was not yet willing to allow Katherine to move away from him and continued to keep his firm hold on her.

With flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips, Katherine looked upward at him with her bright blue eyes. "Don't," she said softly, caressing his cheek once more. "Don't think about it…please? Just…go back to the ball for a little while so that people will not whisper about your absence. Smile…dance…and when you are ready to retire, I beg of you, Philippe, try to rest."

She knew as well as he did that he likely would not be able to sleep that night, but the look that she gave him also betrayed the truth to his eyes. She did not plan on returning to the ball, despite the fact that the entire thing had been thrown in her honour. Instead Katherine asked him to return so that the people would whisper a little less about the way that they had both been whisked away by his musketeers. His mother was likely already there once more, as were several members of her family, if not all of them. And they too would notice if neither of them returned to the ball. Oh, the scandal that would create…

"You will wait for me?"

Philippe looked at her nervously, wondering if perhaps he was overstepping the boundaries that they had created for themselves. There was nothing intimately physical between them, not in the same regard as had been between Louis and his many mistresses. Philippe was still far too inexperienced in the ways of romance for that, and Katherine had made it clear that she would not blemish her honour in such a fashion. But she was aware of the fact that Philippe had come to suffer nightmares since their rescue and so had spent a few nights in his chamber as a result, wrapped in a quilt of her own and safely held in the young man's arms as they slept. It seemed to be one of the only ways he could be comforted on those nights when the dreams became too real for him to handle, and often times he found that he didn't experience them at all while Kate was near him.

It was a private arrangement that they had disclosed to absolutely no one. They doubted that either of their father's would approve for fear of the rumours it would cause.

Katherine nodded her head slowly. "Of course."

Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Philippe leaned in once again to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "I love you."

"And I you," smiled Katherine. "Now go."

A gentle nudge of her hands was all it took for Philippe to stumble back toward the door that would see him safely returned to the ballroom. For a moment he continued to look at her, observing the details of her face for as long as he could before the wall of the antechamber became too close and he was forced to turn himself around again. The doors were pulled open and in a flash he was gone, swallowed up once more by the regal persona that dictated his every move while in the public eye.

But as his form disappeared behind closed doors, the smile slipped away from Katherine's face and gave way to a look of sadness instead, her face instantly becoming buried in her hands. She wanted so much to tell him the truth of the matter, to remind him that the expectations of his court would deny him the one thing that he truly wanted in this world. Her mind demanded that she be logical with him, insisting that he look elsewhere for his pursuits. Her heart, however, was the problem in that. And it ached terribly at the thought of having to force him away from her for the good of the country that they both loved so dearly. His duty to his people needed to come first, she knew that better than anyone else…so why had she allowed herself to fall in love with him in the first place?

Breathing a heavy sigh, Kate turned herself away and headed slowly for the doors at the opposite end of the chamber. She didn't feel like dancing anymore. She barely felt like walking. All she wanted to do was remove the fancy gown from her body and curl up in a warm blanket so that she could drift off to sleep and leave all of her troubles behind her, even if only for a little while. The morning hours would come soon enough, and with them would be the opportunity to sit in on her first Privy Council meeting. She would need all of her wits about her in order to make it through that and prove that she belonged there, even if she didn't feel that way in her heart. The ring that Philippe had placed on her finger earlier suddenly felt cold and heavy as she came to remember the appointed time that the council was ordered to meet.

Soon, she thought. Soon she would have to prove that even as a woman, and even with the injuries now forever associated with her body, she could still spar with the best of them.