Second chapter! Here is where it gets angsty. I hope you enjoy!

Please, don't forget to read and review!

-M

D'Artagnan spent the next hour sending a letter to Porthos. In the months since they all separated, Porthos was the only one who constantly sent letters to, both d'Artagnan and Aramis. But it seemed that Athos was nowhere to be found, although d'Artagnan understood that he was busy and traveling. It would be rather hard for a letter to be delivered to him. As a result, the new Captain of the Musketeers stopped writing to him.

So he wrote to Porthos, praying that he would get a reply soon.

Once the letter was sent, he came back to his wife and the Queen, smiling slightly. "If all goes well, Porthos will reply in a few days," he said. "For now, we will have to wait. I would suggest you go back to the Palace and try to find something that could help Aramis. Visit him, if you can. We do not know what may be being done to him."

Anne shivered at the thought of Aramis being tortured while in the Bastille. She truly hoped that he wouldn't come out of this physically - and mentally - abused.

She was suddenly forced out of her thoughts when Constance squeezed her hand.

"It will be alright, Anne," she said. "Aramis has been in these situations before, so he knows how to handle them. If Porthos cannot help us then we will find ourselves another way to free him. I promise you, we will prevail."

The Queen nodded, closing her eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming.

"Would you like me to come back to the Palace with you, while d'Artagnan waits for a reply from Porthos?" Constance then asked. "I can help you look for anything that can help Aramis…?"

Anne opened her eyes and nodded once more. "That would be wonderful, Constance, thank you," she replied.

"I may not be your servant anymore, but I will always continue to serve you, Anne. Both as my Queen, and my friend."

XxXxX

Aramis was woken up from sleep when he heard the sound of prison doors opening. He scrambled to sit upright, pulling against the chains that must have been put on him while he was asleep. They wrapped around his wrists and connected to the wall behind him. They were long enough for him to, both, stand up and lay down, to which Aramis was grateful.

A man suddenly opened the door and walked into his small, little cell, carrying a large chest, which he set aside on the ground. As he stood back up, Aramis saw that he was clearly in his thirties, had short, black hair, and was rather tall of height. He had this menacing expression on his none too friendly face. Aramis realized that his stay at the Bastille was not going to be a pleasant one if what he thought was right.

"First Minister Aramis!" the stranger began. "So nice to finally meet you. I hope your first night in the Bastille was pleasant."

"Who are you?" Aramis asked cooly.

"My name is Charles de Lansac," the man - Charles - explained. "I am the jailer the late King hired for when you would finally be sent to the Bastille. You see, he told me, that he wanted you to suffer after his death. He wanted you to really suffer for what you have done. And he told me what you did - sleeping with the Queen definitely has consequences. But that is not the point. The point is, that this is what he wanted. A letter was sent to me the minute you were put in here, and I came right away to fulfill my duty. This is what my client wanted, and I will carry out his wishes. Plus, my payment for this can - and will - last me for the rest of my life!" He paused to smile, his smile bringing shivers up Aramis' smile. It was such a cold smile; it held no emotion other than that coldness. "So," he finally continued. "Let's begin shall we? Or do you have any questions?"

Aramis couldn't help but scoff. "The Queen will have your head for this, Lansac," he said. "She will not let this go easily.

"The Queen? … Or your lover?" Lansac asked, the smile growing wider.

Aramis' eyes widened. He was unable to say a word.

"Wonderful! Now that we have the introduction done with, I think it is time to begin," Lansac said. "What would you like to start with first?" He walked over to that big chest by the door, and opened it, beginning to search through its contents. "We can start with … knifing … ooh! We can have some fun with muskets! … we have knife throwing … that should be fun. You know, I am known to be terrible at throwing knifes at a target. We could try that-"

"You monster!" Aramis cried, beginning to struggle against his chains. "This is all a game to you, isn't it?! You hurt people for fun … for your own delight. You're a sadist, nothing more. God will punish you for it. For hurting innocent people for nothing."

"Oh, but you are not innocent," Lansac argued, not taking his eyes off of what he was doing. "You slept with the Queen, and fathered a child. The Dauphin is a lie. If the people of Paris knew this, they would storm through the Palace and kill him within hours. And it is for this reason that King Louis wants to punish you. I am only doing my duty … And as for God, I am not afraid of him. He has already destroyed everything I held dear in my life. He cannot do anything else to me."

A silence took over the two men. The only other sound was the sound of weapons clashing against each other as Lansac searched through his chest.

"You know," he suddenly said. "How about we start with knife throwing. I have a feeling that it will be fun … For me. Not for you. You should start praying now; like I said, I am terrible with knives."