"We make mistakes
We rise again
We choose the road we shouldn't take

We bend the rules
We cross the line
It's just enough to feel alive"

Who We Are - Boyzone

"Relax your grip, it makes the movements flow easier," Marsac instructed and sent another blow her way. Iris parried it and took a defensive stance again.

"One more time?" she asked, flexing the fingers that held on to the hilt. They had only been training for an hour, but her heart was beating fiercely in her chest. Marsac looked her over and sheathed his sword.

"I think you've had enough for today," he declared. Iris groaned in frustration, but was secretly glad he decided to cut their training short. It was exhausting, not that she would ever admit it.

They had been at it for little over a week now. Marsac had taken her to the outskirts of Paris, where they had found a good place to train. It was deserted, so no one would bother them. They hid the sword she had been using in a hollow tree trunk and made their way back to the garrison.

"You shouldn't push yourself so much," he began, glancing at her as they walked. "You may be an incredible fast learner, but no one can master something like this in a matter of days."

"Yes, yes, Rome wasn't built in a day," she uttered, still slightly out of breath. He had said the same words to her the day they had begun.

"If it's any consolation, I had to practice for months to get to where you are now."

Iris chuckled.

"That does make me feel better."

He continued staring at her with a hint of pride in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was full of adoration.

"I mean it when I say you're good Iris. This isn't just about the technique, it's about intuition and control... and passion. You've got it all."

Iris felt herself starting to blush at his words, and he quickly cleared his throat and reverted back into his usual relaxed and joking self.

"All you lack is strength and some stamina."

She turned towards him with mock hurt on her face.

"Are you calling me weak?"

"I never said weak! But the stronger you get, the longer you last in a fight."

"Stamina," Iris muttered with half a smile. "I'll give you stamina."

Marsac shook his head as she took off down the road they had been walking on, and felt something flutter inside him. He had been happier since Iris had come to the garrison. Though she had planned to only stay a few days, he was glad she still lingered. It was part of why he had agreed to give her lessons – it gave her a reason to stay.

Realising he wanted her to stay with them for good, he ran after her.

Aramis was descending the stairs from Treville's office when they returned to the garrison. He watched them fall down on a bench by their usual table, deep in discussion.

"What have you two been up to," he asked as he neared them.

"We went for a walk," they said innocently in perfect unison. Aramis looked from Iris to Marsac and back again. They had been acting strangely secretive for some time now.

"I just came from Treville," he muttered, eyes still going back and forth between them. "There's been some changes with our guard duties."

"That's my cue to leave," Iris said and made her way towards the kitchen to see if Serge needed a hand with anything.

"What horrible shift have we been left with this time?" Marsac groaned. Aramis had been watching Iris leave, and when she was out of earshot he rounded on Marsac, forgetting all about Treville and guard duties.

"What is it you're not telling me about you two?"

Marsac blinked and swallowed hardly. He had never been good at explaining his way out of things when he was put on the spot. Hoping the expression on his face was one of confusion, he shrugged.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Aramis sat down on the bench and gave him a knowing smile.

"The whispering, the sneaking around, disappearing for hours at a time."

Marsac let out a nervous laugh.

"Leave it to you to imagine the worst. Whatever you think, it's not like that."

"What is it like then?" Aramis inquired, smiling as his friend squirmed.

"She's not... I don't even... why would you think-"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Aramis assured him, raising his hands in defeat. "But remember, I always find out. One way or another."

Marsac scoffed, and quickly changed the subject.

"What did Treville say?"

"We're to report at the palace in the morning," Aramis explained, letting the subject of him and Iris go.

"Better get some rest then," Marsac said, and made his way towards the lodgings. Aramis watched him go, wondering if his friend realised that they hadn't even had dinner yet.

You're avoiding me, he thought and grinned to himself. Whatever was going on between Marsac and Iris, he would soon find out.

Iris walked through the halls of the mansion, searching every room for her mother. There was to be a dinner party that night, celebrating the return of comte Demont's son, and they were supposed to be out gathering flowers for table decorations.

Not paying attention, she almost ran into Elaine who was carrying a stack of freshly cleaned and folded linens.

"Look where you're going, dear," she warned the little girl. Iris stared helplessly up at the older woman.

"I cant find my mother anywhere, Elaine," she cried.

"I think I saw her by the masters rooms some time ago," she muttered, a crease forming between her eyes. The little girl took off immediately.

She didn't slow down before she reached the comtes private office. The door stood slightly ajar, and looking through it she saw her mother stand before a huge desk. In the chair behind it, the comte watched her, his face convulsed with anger.

"Have I not treated both of you well?!"

"Of course, my lord," her mother assured him. "You have been more than good to us, especially after the death of Iris' father. I feel his presence everywhere... I simply want my daughter and I to have a new start somewhere else."

He groaned and rubbed his hands against his temples.

"So you plan to leave?" he asked, trying to keep his voice controlled.

"The day after tomorrow. That way we can settle in nicely in Paris for her tenth birthday."

"What are you doing?"

Iris turned around with a gasp at the sound of another voice. The speaker was the comtes son, Andre, who looked down at her with dark eyes.

"Are you spying on my father?" he demanded, and Iris felt herself grow smaller.

"I just wanted to find my mother..." she stammered, looking at the ground. Andre sneered.

"Look at me when you speak! Don't you have any manners, girl?"

Iris felt tears form in her eyes when the door opened and her mother looked at them with the comte hovering closely behind her.

"Come, Iris," she said, taking her daughters hand. Iris looked back, seeing both men watching them as they walked away.

"Are we going somewhere mother?" she asked curiously, already feeling better from her run-in with Andre. Her mother gave her a wide smile and leaned down to whisper in Iris' ear.

"We're going on an adventure."

Her mother grew sick that night. Iris stood by her mothers bed as Elaine tended to her. When she felt pressure on her hand, she looked up to see the comte stare intently at her.

"Don't worry, mademoiselle Chevalier. I'm sure she will recover by morning."

But she didn't. The next day was the same. She could almost see her mother wither away before her eyes. The night before her birthday, Iris had curled up against her mothers side.

"You'll be better soon, wont you?" she asked with wide open eyes. Her mother had attempted to give her a smile, but the effort was too much and she started coughing violently again, as she had done for the past days. Elaine, who had been sitting next to her, leaned over to wipe away a trickle of blood from her mothers mouth.

"Aimée, do you want something to sleep on?" Elaine suggested quietly. Her mother gave the older woman a slight nod, and watched her leave the room.

"You know I love you very much, Iris," she whispered, planting a kiss on her daughters forehead.

"I love you too, mother." Iris felt tears run down her cheeks. Aimée Chevalier reached out to brush them away with her thumb.

"Thank god you have your fathers eyes," she muttered, loosing herself in a memory. Iris sniffed.

"You'll be better for tomorrow, wont you mother? We're still going on an adventure, aren't we?"

Her mother blinked a few times and refocused on Iris.

"Of course..."

Elaine re-entered the room, carrying a bottle of brandy and a glass. Filling it, she held it to Aimée's lips.

"Easy, easy..."

Aimée let out a sigh as the brandy burned it's way down her throat. Turning her head to the side, she gave Iris a mischievous smile.

"Do you want an early birthday present, sweetheart?"

Iris felt excitement fill her.

"You have to promise me you will take good care of it," she whispered and loosened the bracelet she carried on her right wrist. Sliding it onto Iris' wrist, she looked at her daughter seriously. "Your father gave me this. You'll take care of it, wont you?"

Iris gently touched the bracelet, two silver chains joined together at the lock, and buried her face in her mothers shoulder.

As she drifted off she heard her mother beg Elaine to look after her. When she woke up again, Aimée Chevalier was no more.

The household came to pay their respects, but Iris was too lost in trying to understand what was happening to notice anything.

Suddenly she was pulled into a tight hug. The comte knelt down next to her, and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I'll take care of you now."

Iris woke up covered in sweat, breathing frantically. She could still clearly hear the sound of his voice, as though he was sitting next to her. Holding on tightly to the bracelet she had received 8 years ago, she forced herself to take deep breaths, and slowly she calmed down. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes into her hair. Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she slowly stood up and washed her face in the bowl of water that stood on the desk. She needed to remove every trace of her dream, or perhaps it was a nightmare, before walking out of her room. Aramis and Marsac would be waiting for her, she was sure of it.

Pulling on the dress she had laid out the night before, she watched her reflection in the water. A look of fear and sadness still lingered in her eyes. There was no way she could explain this to her friends, without having to tell them everything. Grabbing her cloak, she decided to make a run for it. At least for today, she needed to get away.

"There she is!" Aramis announced, the second she set foot in the courtyard. Though it was nearing the end of October, and the temperature had fallen drastically, they both sat at the table, as per usual.

"Happy birthday," Marsac greeted her. Iris kept her eyes on the ground, hoping her hair would shield her troubled look from them.

"Thank you," she mumbled, and inched closer to the gates.

"Are you going somewhere?" Aramis asked her, rising from his seat. Iris took a deep breath and tried to sound cheerful.

"I just have a few things to do... I'll be back before long."

"Iris, are you all right?"

Marsac had also come closer. Getting a feeling of walls closing in on her, she quickly said, "Of course I am." Instead of sounding reassuringly it came out as a sob.

A hand closed around her wrist, and she quickly pulled away.

"Can we do anything?" One of them said. Her vision had blurred and a loud buzzing filled her ears.

"Just leave me alone!"

They watched her rush through the gate and disappear around a corner. Aramis looked at Marsac and saw his own worry mirrored on his face.

"Should we...?"

"We probably should."

Iris had no idea where she was. Her feet had carried her down unfamilliar streets, without her noticing.

It was hard to remember when she had last felt happy on her birthday. The loss of her mother had overshadowed the joy she was supposed to feel at turning a year older. And on top of it all she now felt guilty over her reaction towards Aramis and Marsac, who didn't know better.

Gazing down a narrow street, she suddenly froze in place. A man stood leaning over a young woman – she looked younger than Iris – holding her against the wall. She recognized the way he looked at her. It was the way the comte had looked at Iris.

Feeling a burning sensation wash over her, she made her way towards them. The woman whimpered in fear, making him grin.

"Leave her alone," Iris called angrily at him. He turned his head around, looked her over and brought his attention back to the woman.

"Run along, girl," he barked. The woman whimpered again.

"I said," Iris hissed. "Leave. Her. ALONE." On the last word she grabbed the back of his jerkin and pulled him away from the woman.

With unexpected speed he turned around and closed his hands around her throat. The woman took the first opportunity she got to run down the street and disappear. He let out a growl and forced her back against the wall, tightening his grip around her throat.

"You should learn to stay out of things that doesn't concern you," he whispered harshly. Iris tried to pry his hands off her, but was quickly loosing strength. Black spots appeared at the edges of her vision.

He leaned closer, and she felt his breath on her neck.

"Not so tough, are you now, girl," he breathed.

"If you want to keep breathing you will let her go," a voice said, followed by the unmistakable sound of a pistol being ready to fire. Iris felt the fingers around her throat flinch before they disappeared. She slid a little way down the wall, clutching at her throat, and for the second time that day she tried to breathe normally.

"If you ever try anything like that again, I will pull the trigger," the voice, that she now recognised as Marsac's, threatened. She heard footsteps retreating, and then he appeared in front of her.

"Iris! Did he hurt you?"

Breathing deeply, she felt relief at seeing him. Then, a second later, she felt annoyed.

"Did you follow me?"

He let out an exasperated laugh.

"Are you serious? No thank you?"

"You actually followed me."

"Good thing I did – have you gone mad? What were you thinking?!"

Iris had somewhat regained her breath, though she still felt a bit light-headed.

"I wanted to help. God knows what he would have done to her..."

"Right now I'm more concerned with what he could have done to you."

Worry and fear lined every inch of his face. Iris closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

"New lesson," he said softly. She reopened her eyes and stared curiously at him. "Do not attack an opponent bigger than you, without a plan."

"What do I do when every opponent is bigger than me?"

Marsac reached out a hand, and brushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.

"You start thinking," he explained. After a moment he reached a hand into his pocket and produced a little ball of cloth.

"If you can wait five minutes without getting into trouble, I have something for you."

"Marsac, I really don't-"

"No presents, I know. You already told me. But this is something I found, not bought, so it doesn't count."

He pressed the ball into her hand, with an expectant look. She bit her cheek as she looked down on it. A few days ago she had explicitly told them she didn't want anything. Still, her curiosity took the upper hand, and the unravelled the cloth.

Inside lay a small brass fleur-de-lis. On the top of it was a golden hoop.

"I found it lying around the garrison a long time ago," he said casually, not meeting her eye. "You said you didn't want anything, but I figured you could attach this to your mothers bracelet and always remember the musketeers -"

He stopped speaking when she threw her arms around him. He returned the embrace and relaxed.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for being a stubbornly great friend."

A/N

Hello! I hope you keep finding my story enjoyable. This chapter has been about Iris and Marsac bonding - next chapter, Aramis gets to shine. Let me know what you think x