Milady

The ride back to Paris was uneventful. She was impressed by the pace they were able to keep, and even more impressed by how the Queen managed to endure it. The woman was clearly exhausted, but she did not allow herself to show even a moment of weakness. However, when Milady looked into the Queen's eyes, she could see that fury was singing in her heart.

Even if Milady was a cold and soulless creature, there were still some crimes which made her blood boil and caused her to thirst for revenge. This time, she knew she was not alone in her desire for vengeance, and that was quite a refreshing feeling. Her gaze slipped over the musketeers. She had been forced to admit several times during her service for Cardinal that they were exceptional. But would it be enough?

She was truly disconcerted by Aramis' absence. If her plan were to work, she needed the Spanish born musketeer. He was her only option.

One step at a time. First, you must arrange the meeting. Then you can worry about the stupid white knight. And not just about him.

Athos is not important in this plan. He is not important in your life. He is just another one of the Musketeers' lieutenants. Olivier is dead. Oliver has nothing to do with Athos, you stupid, naive girl!

She urged her horse into a gallop, and passed Treville. He nodded to her, showing once again that he agreed with her plan. She had to make sure that she was the first one back to the Palace in order to soothe the King. She was a bit afraid of what awaited her at the Louvre, but if Rochefort had not yet returned, she could still maintain control of the situation.

When she took a last glance at the musketeers, she saw how pale the Queen looked, and felt fury surge into her heart. That was a good sign. Her wrath always served her well, as she would not rest until it was satisfied.

She was able to gain entry into the Palace without incident, as no one stood guard at the rear entrance. That made her uneasy. She had left her horse loosely tied to a wooden post in the stable. She had done nothing more to care for the exhausted beast. Its passive obedience reminded her too much of the musketeers.

Loyal to a fault, and ready to be ridden into the ground at the whim of the KIng. And he treats them exactly the way he treats his horses. As long as they are agile and in their prime, he loves them...but once they are not, he discards them without a second thought…

She made her way to her chambers, and immediately ordered a bath. Then she summoned her servants to dress her properly. She studied her reflection in the mirror, practicing her most charming smile.

A half an hour later, she slipped into the King's chamber, using a secret corridor he had shown her. She had no intention of talking to the Red Guard who was standing guard outside the door to the royal apartment. Suddenly, she felt lightheaded. She stopped for a moment, and took in a deep breath.

Something is wrong. I felt fine during my ride. If I were ill, the fatigue of the journey would made the symptoms of any illness evident hours ago. So I must have somehow been exposed to a poison here… but where?! I haven't eaten anything since I returned. Is everything here coated with some sort of toxic substance?

She saw the King stretched out lazily on his richly decorated bed, and spoke up.

"Sire?" As he turned to look at her, she curtsied.

Louis clapped his hands in delight. "My sunshine! I missed you so much!"

"Please forgive me. I haven't felt well."

"Oh, my Dear… I hope you're not ill."

"No, Sire. I just have not been myself-I am so afraid for the Queen. I know what it is like to be kidnapped and mistreated…"

"You're such a kind soul, my Dear...so selfless! Come, sit next to me." He patted the bed in a gesture more appropriate for summoning a dog, not a lover.

Milady bowed modestly, and obeyed with a sweet smile. She took his hand into her own, then lifted it to her lips.

"You're a wonder," he murmured. "Always so warm and affectionate." His voice turned petulant then. "Why is my own Queen always so cold to me?"

She quickly recalled which story she had told the King about her parents. "Sire, you must remember that although we are both women, we were brought up very differently. She was raised from birth to be a timid and perfect wife, while my parents allowed me to speak my mind."

"Well, if she were really so perfect, we would have had many children by now!" he said bitterly. Giving her a hopeful look, he asked, "You said you didn't feel well. Do you think you might be pregnant?"

"Not yet, Sire," she replied, modestly lowering her gaze.

Although I considered ceasing to actively prevent it. After all, giving birth to the King's child could secure my position. Even though the King is not exactly the man I would want as the father of my child…

Damn it! Stop thinking about Athos!

To conceive Athos' child and raise it as the King's…

Stop it!

"Forgive me for asking. I didn't want to upset you by bringing it up. I know it's a sensitive topic, but I think we that perhaps we should spending time working on this...project." He winked at her, giggling like a naughty schoolboy.

"With pleasure," she purred, her mind occupied with trying to estimate when Treville and the Queen would arrive.

As she was still kissing his fingers, the King started to fumble at her corset with his other hand. It was soon obvious that he would never succeed in getting it off her in that fashion.

"Do you really think that the Queen was kidnapped?" he asked suddenly. "You believe that it wasn't a thinly disguised escape attempt?"

She held back a smile.

"Yes, I do. She is loyal to you, Sire. And even if you doubt it, I am completely convinced that she'd never leave her child behind."

He nodded, but seemed distracted. "Rochefort seemed to be so sure."

"Sire, I know nothing about politics, but I dare say I know a mother's heart...and if I had a child who was alive, I'd never abandon it, no matter how desperate or unhappy my situation."

"Oh, poor thing! You never told me that you buried a child as well as your husband!"

She allowed a single tear to trail down her cheek. The King gently kissed her hair. She leaned into him, seeking the comfort that he could never give her.

A knock at the door startled her, and Louis grunted in annoyance.

A moment later, the guard's voice could be heard outside the door. "Your Majesty, the Queen is asking to see you."

"Forgive me, my Dear!" the monarch murmured, stumbling as he got up.

"May I accompany you, Sire?" Milady supported him easily. It was obvious she had experience helping incapacitated men-experience that a lady would not normally have.

"Yes, of course," he said easily.

They went to the throne room. The servants had just finished lighting the candles. It did not take long for Treville, Anne, and Constance to appear. They were disheveled, and their clothes were covered in mud.

Louis, clearly shocked, stood up.

"Anne?" His voice was tentative.

"Sire." She bowed deeply. "I am so happy to see you. I was so afraid that I'd never see Paris again."

"They told me you had escaped to Spain!" There was both relief and accusation in his voice.

"I would never even consider such a thing!" She spoke firmly, but the fatigue in her voice was obvious.

The King approached the Queen. She stiffened, but did not move.

Louis saw her response, and appeared shaken. "What has happened?! Treville?!"

"Your Majesty." The Captain bowed deeply. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Of course," the King responded, his relief apparent. He was truly happy to see his wife and his best soldier alive.

"The Queen is very tired. If you wish to delve into the military details of the operation, I'll be happy to oblige you. However, I strongly recommend that Her Majesty be allowed a chance to rest."

"I cannot grant your request, Treville. I need her by my side. Come, my darling." He took Anne's hand, and led her to her throne. She took her place graciously, but Milady saw the haunted look in her eyes.

She hastily made her way over to Constance.

"Order the servants to bring blankets, hot wine, and food. The Queen looks completely exhausted!"

Constance nodded, and quickly left the room.

"You never cease to amaze me, my dear!" Louis exclaimed. "Your compassion does you credit."

Milady bowed humbly.

The King turned to the Queen. "I cannot even imagine what you must have endured! What happened?"

"Sire, we were attacked. My protectors did all they could to save me, but in the end, I was taken. I was drugged, and remained so throughout my captivity. When I finally regained consciousness, I was already safe with your musketeers."

"Your Majesty." Although his injury surely pained him, Treville bowed low once again. "I am afraid that a few of Red Guards who accompanied us were working with the attackers. Their actions during the fight made their betrayal obvious. I am ashamed to admit that I was shot, and did not see the kidnapping when it occurred. I was well aware that I could not pursue the bandits by myself, especially with my injury. I knew that the estate where my men had been sent to recover was not far away. I managed to make my way there. Once I arrived, a group of musketeers set out immediately on a rescue mission. They managed to free Her Majesty, and we hastened back to Paris."

"I see." Louis took the Queen's hand. "I regret that Rochefort was not able to hear your story. He had expressed some serious concerns about the Queen. Which of your men found my wife?"

"Athos and Porthos."

"Summon them immediately. I wish to speak to them."

"Unfortunately, that is not possible, Your Majesty. They stayed behind to function as a sort of rear guard. Their fate remains unknown."

The King appeared troubled. "That does not sound good."

Constance returned at that moment, bearing hot wine and blankets.

"Ah, Constance. You have done well in your service to the Queen, but your husband seems to be upset about your prolonged absence. He has petitioned for you to be released from service so you can return home." The King paused, then said sternly, "He made some mention of misconduct on your part."

The redhead gasped in shock, and shot a despairing glance at Treville.

The Captain spoke up, his voice smooth. "If I may ask, how many of the Queen's ladies in waiting are skilled with a blade, Your Majesty?"

Louis frowned. "That's beside the point,Treville. A true lady has no reason to be trained in such things."

"True, but I am very concerned about the Queen's safety. Someone appears to be targeting her. It is my recommendation that Constance remain in Her Majesty's service in order to provide an additional measure of security."

"Please, Sire," Anne whispered. "I'd feel better with her at my side." She seemed as distraught as Madame Bonacieux.

"I'll consider the matter further tomorrow. Right now, I'm tired. Treville, I want those bandits found!"

"Yes, Sire. I must confess that I am afraid that they may be after Rochefort as well."

"What makes you say that?"

"His name was heard in their camp."

Louis nodded, but his eyes appeared unfocused. He dismissed everyone, Milady included, in order to be alone with his wife.

Milady had no idea if he was about to forgive or scold his Queen. The lack of an official accusation against her was good news. In any event, the green-eyed murderess was too busy setting her plan in motion to give much thought to Louis and Anne.

Fortunately, she had the necessary skill to forge a few letters. She also knew just whom she had to bribe in order to obtain information about a pair of musketeers who had been transported to the headquarters of the Red Guard. She truly hoped that Aramis was one of them. According to the report that Morineau that given, the Inseparables should have already arrived in Paris.

Have the other two been killed? Is Athos dead?!

Stop it! You need Aramis, not Athos, to carry out your plan...and it must be done as soon as possible. According to your spies, despite the sudden illness which slowed him down, Rochefort is likely to return soon.

Milady had had to suppress a smile when she had heard about his illness. Slowing down Rochefort had been a necessity, but making him suffer had been an added bonus.

However, it had not slowed him down enough. When she saw him entering the city, she knew she was running out of time. At that point, she could think of only one thing to do-and she had no time to lose. After disguising herself in men's clothes and quickly forging a letter, she soon had the key part of her plan in her possession-Aramis.

It had taken every ounce of her willpower to ignore Athos, covered in blood and curled up in a cage. But she had forced herself to do so.

Of all people, you should understand. There was no other way. I had my duty to France…

She had left Athos with a heavy heart, but she now had what she needed. Disturbingly, Aramis was barely able to walk, and that made her uneasy. She hoped that she had a remedy for that. The most important element of her plan was to persuade the musketeer to play his part. Fortunately, he was too weak and traumatized to resist.

She needed to find a convincing way to appear to shoot him. Her first thought had been to actually shoot him. But when she saw his condition, she realized that he was already too badly injured. She could not add to his wounds without fear of immobilizing him completely.

She leaned over him, and whispered her instructions. He showed no reaction, but she sensed that he understood her. When he was shoved onto her cart, she immediately jumped in and aimed her pistol at him. In the closed courtyard, the shot was almost deafening. Aramis fell, and lay still. Now came the easy part-getting away from that place.

They finally arrived at the house she had selected for their hideout. When they entered the stable, she carefully placed her hand on his bleeding back.

"Aramis, you need to get up," she said firmly. He did not move. Milady sighed, and turned him onto his side. She picked up her waterskin, and splashed some water in his face. Once again, he showed no response.

She slapped his face. "Wake up!"

He mumbled something under his breath, and his swollen eyes opened a bit.

His condition was far worse than she had thought. Would he still be able to participate in her plan?

"Aramis?"

"Athos…"

"I've sent word to Treville-he'll send some men to free him. Right now I need to get you inside the house so I can tend your wounds."

"Why did you save me instead of him?"

"Because you speak Spanish. I need a Spanish Musketeer."

Just in case, she had come up with a backup plan. However, she knew that it was unlikely to succeed.

She led the swaying musketeer inside the house. She guided him to a table, and helped him to sit down on the wooden bench that ran along it. Exhausted by the effort of walking, he laid his head on the table. Luckily, he was already shirtless. She began to clean his torso with some warm herbal water, grimacing when she saw the extent of his injuries - cuts, gashes, bruises, burns.

I need him coherent and on his feet…

She had the necessary knowledge and equipment to tend to his wounds, but she did not enjoy the task. He did not flinch once while she worked, which was concerning. She was well aware of how much pain she was inflicting on him.

"Aramis, look at me." She cupped his face.

He blinked, his gaze unfocused. She swore, and decided to resort to the only other treatment she could think of- a herbal draught. In her experience, these leaves that had been brought from the New World seemed to work wonders. She hoped that they would have the same effect on Aramis.

And I hope that I don't kill him in his weakened condition.

He obediently drank the concoction, and slowly seemed to regain his senses.

His eyes finally seemed to focus, and he appeared astonished when he recognized her. "Milady?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It took you long enough. Yes, it's me. Are you lucid enough to listen to my plan?"

"Your plan?"

"Yes, a foolhardy plan to save France-and the King and Queen. Are you interested in helping me?"

He nodded.

"Good, because I have cast you in a crucial role. You will be Miguel Carlos Juan Sanorez, a Spanish spy operating in the Palace. The cover you have assumed is that of Jean de Tronan, an embassador from Savoy. Your are to present an order for Rochefort to return to Spain for further "studies" due to unacceptable behaviour."

"An order from whom?"

"Estavez Sanchez Frederico Sevillez."

"When?"

"Tonight. Rochefort is back. We must finish him off, and be quick about it."

He nodded.

"Come, let's get you into bed. You have two hours to get some sleep. When you wake up, I'll get you a quick bite to eat, and then we're off."

She helped him stand up, and realized with dismay that she was having to support nearly all his weight.

This is not a good sign… they really did a number on him. This plan is already in trouble, and we haven't even put it into motion yet.

Riversidewren thank you for betaing.

Dear Readers, I'd love to hear your thoughts!