Next Chapter ;)

Thanks Niagaraweasel for translate

When Constance woke up the next morning, she felt better. The shock of the past two days was slowly settling and waking up in D'Artagnan's arms made her feel good. She had never shared a bed with Bonacieux, he had come to her when he wanted her near and gone back afterwards. In all the years Constance had never gone to him. This here felt right. She felt safe and protected with D'Artagnan and she never wanted to wake up without him again.

"Good morning," he whispered into her ear.

Carefully, she turned around to him. "Good morning."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I have never slept better in my life," Constance answered with a smile.

The youngest musketeer kissed her. "And that will not change ever again, I will see to that."

"I need to get my things from Bonacieux today."

"I will come with you, after yesterday I'm not leaving you alone with him for a second."

"Thank you. After what happened with Bonacieux and Rochefort, I don't want to be alone with either of them."

"You won't be." D'Artagnan got up and Constance couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of him standing before her in just his underpants. She swallowed hard, remembering the first time she had seen him like that. That was the moment when she knew she wanted him more than anything else.

D'Artagnan noticed her look. "What?"

"Nothing," Constance answered, embarrassed, and fixed her eyes on the floor.

He walked over to her. "Madame Bonacieux, were you staring at me?"

She gave him a look of pretended shock. "I would never dare. And there's not all that much to stare at, anyway."

Constance stood up, careful of her still aching ribs, and kissed him, while her hand roamed across his beautiful chest.

"If there's not much there to stare at, why is your heart beating pretty fast?"

"Well, maybe I have been staring just a little bit, and maybe you make me just a little nervous," Constance admitted, pulling him a little closer and kissing him again.

Aramis didn't move an inch from the queen's side and Porthos did the same with Marguerite and the heir. Athos had decided to take a look around the castle to keep an eye on Milady de Winter. He might give her the feeling that he didn't trust her, but his heart still held feelings for her.

It almost broke Marguerite's hear to see Aramis' indifference. She loved him and she had laid her heart at his feet, but she had not been more than a pastime for him. She could feel hate growing in her heart for the queen and the heir. Was the child maybe his son and not the king's? She shook herself to get rid of the thought, but then she took a closer look at the infant. Who did he resemble more, the king or Aramis?

"Marguerite, why are you daydreaming?" a voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"What?" she asked, turning around to Porthos.

"Why did you leave the child crying for the past ten minutes? The queen is already on her way here. Are you feeling unwell?" The musketeer gave her a worried look.

"I'm sorry, I was lost in my thoughts," Marguerite said, taking the child in her arm and wrapping a blanket around him, which immediately calmed him.

Oh, how much she wished to have children of her own and how often in her short time with Aramis had she thought how nice it would be to have him by her side as husband and father.

The queen came hurrying in with Aramis. "Marguerite," she scolded, yanking the child out of the woman's arms, "why has my son been crying for so long while you did nothing about it?"

"I am very sorry, Your Royal Highness, I….. I was lost in thought," Marguerite stuttered.

Anne turned to Porthos and Aramis. "Please ride to the garrison and fetch Constance and D'Artagnan. I can't trust anyone anymore, except the four of you and Constance. Marguerite, your services are no longer needed."

Wordlessly, Marguerite left the room with her head bowed.

"I'll ride over to the garrison," Porthos said, took his hat and left the room.

"Aramis, would you take care of our son? I need to speak to the king about Rochefort. I don't want Constance to think that I don't care what happens to her," Anne said, handing Aramis their child.

"My pleasure." Aramis smiled at his son and dangled the queen's cross in front of him.

"I wish I could watch you play with our son every day. I wish that we could be together," Anne said, sadly, and walked out the door.

Constance reached for D'Artagnan's hand and he gave her a smile. "We can do this, I'm here with you."

She nodded and knocked on the door. It didn't take long for the cloth merchant to open. He regarded his wife and D'Artagnan with a disparaging look. "After all these years you're afraid to come to me alone?"

Before Constance could answer, D'Artagnan spoke up. "After the way you treated her yesterday and what happened earlier with Rochefort, is that any wonder?" The musketeer pulled Constance closer to his side and led her through the door past Bonacieux.

The cloth merchant grabbed D'Artagnan's arm, but dropped it again when the musketeer looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I don't want you in my house."

"I will not leave Constance here alone," D'Artagnan answered firmly.

"It's alright, I can manage," Constance said, trying to defuse the rising tension between the two men.

"I'm not leaving you here alone, no matter what. You've been through enough in the past two days and I wasn't there, that will not happen again." D'Artagnan took her face in his hands and looked at her insistently.

Bonacieux gave his wife a disgusted look. "You will have nothing with him, absolutely nothing. You will lose everything."

"I may not have a house and money, but I can give Constance something you will never be able to. Safety and unconditional love. I would give my life for her in a heartbeat. You would rather save your own skin and let her be hanged at the gallows than stand up for her. In all the years you have never understood what she really needs – to be cherished and loved and to have adventures."

"That won't feed her and give her a roof over her head," Bonacieux answered stubbornly.

Meanwhile, Constance had retreated to her bedroom to pack her belongings.

"She'll neither freeze nor starve with me. But she will also never see me standing idly by why another man hits her, like you did at the laundry."

Bonacieux swallowed hard. "I couldn't have done anything, a few soldiers of the Red Guard were there."

"Do you think I would have stood a better chance against them? Maybe not, but I would have protected her, because I love her. For you, Constance is just a means to an end. A beautiful woman at your side, that you can show off and parade around like a pet dog."

Constance had finished packing a while ago, but she hadn't left her bedroom yet. She could hear the words of the two men, and the more she heard what her husband had to say, the more disgusted with him she became.

"Constance is not only beautiful, she is intelligent, she has wit, charm, courage and passion and she fills every room with warmth. Did you ever notice that? Or was it just important to you that she does the household chores?" D'Artagnan asked.

Bonacieux didn't answer.

Tears were flowing down Constance's face. Never had a man spoken about her like this. It only strengthened her resolve to leave Bonacieux and listen to her heart. She left the room with two bags. As soon as she joined the two men, the young musketeer immediately took them from her.

"No, Bonacieux, you have never seen me like that. You have given me food and a roof over my head, but you have never loved me and I have not loved you either. You were never a bad husband, but you were also never the man who could give me what I have been searching for. I don't care what the people will say, if they ignore me and if my family disowns me. I will follow my heart. Goodbye, Bonacieux." With these words she left the cloth merchant's house. D'Artagnan followed her outside and kissed her.