So due to me feeling like crap, I cancelled the competition and stayed home in bed. Therefore, I managed to finish this today already, and since you all are so fantastic with the feedback, I could not help myself but post this earlier than planned. Thank you for the continuing support.

Chapter 7

It had been a beautiful day. He had spent all day from morning to evening with his wife, his Anne, and he had been having a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest the entire day. They had woken in the master bedroom in the morning, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her. They could stay like that forever, just breathing in each other's company, scent and love. She had still been sleeping, at peace, with a small smile on her lips, as he had just lain back, and watched her as she slept.

'You are resting next to me, and I can feel, how you are breathing. To be loved by you, is the most beautiful to me. It's so magical as the morning fog lifts, and see the darkness slowly escape, watching a new day dawn. A chilly morning breeze makes its way through the room, and I move closer to you, happy to have you near. Moments of serenity, a second of peace sometimes, moments of happiness, to only be with each other. It is a richness, to love, and to be loved. Our love's gentleness is the most beautiful thing to me.'

As the sun became brighter and the warm rays covered Anne's face into a golden glow, her eyes opened up and met his. He could feel his own lips curl up into a smile as she looked at him with so much love radiating through her eyes.

"Good morning, Comte." Anne grinned, as he leaned down and took her lips with his own.

"Good morning, my Comtessa."

The two of them got dressed, had breakfast, and then wandered through the gardens down to the stable. Their horses readied, they rode off through their lands to make sure everything was at peace, and everything was well. On their way back, they stopped by the old oak tree, just bordering their lands. The meadow was covered in a blue blanket, and as Anne dismounted her horse, she lowered herself into the field of flowers, laying down on her back underneath the crooked old tree.

Olivier tied up the horses to a low hanging branch, before coming to a rest next to his wife. She propped herself up on top of his chest, with a blue flower in her hand, gently tickling his face with it.

"Ne m'oubliez pas." She muses.

"Nounou says that the wearer of the flower will never be forgotten by their lover." Olivier smiles, as he looks into her eyes. "Legend has it, that a knight and his lady were walking aside along a river. He picked a posy of flowers, but because of the weight of his armour, he fell into the river. As he was drowning, he threw the posy to his loved one, and shouted 'forget me not!' And she never did."

"So if I give this to you, and then throw myself into the river?" Anne's smile had turned into a wide grin.

"Don't you dare." Olivier said, his smile growing too as he pulled her closer for a kiss. "I don't think my life could go on without you. You are the first person who has made me feel happy, you are the first person who made me feel alive. My life would have no meaning without you in it."

"Then let's never part."

Olivier reached up and pulled her closer, her head down to rest by the bend of his neck as his hand gently strokes her back. He closed his eyes as he hoped this moment would never vanish, as he hoped every day would be like this, and as he hoped he would never have to part from his loved one. He angles his head, his lips close to her ear, as he whispers. "Ne m'oubliez pas."

Athos eyes were welling up with tears by the time they snapped open. Blinking rapidly as the dream replayed over and over in front of his line of sight, the tears slowly disappeared as he regained focus. His Captain was ever so presently leaning over him, and he could feel the hand on his shoulder.

"Athos? Hey, are you back? Are you experiencing pain?"

Athos shook his head – which did cause him pain – and closed his eyes for a second before meeting the eyes of his Captain.

"Did I make the right choice?"

Athos winced at the sound, and the words, coming from his own mouth. He sounded weak. And he hated it. And he realization suddenly hit him, that Treville must see him weak too, because his Captain had suddenly turned his heels and walked a few steps away.

Treville did indeed turn away as he heard the question. Never before had he ever heard Athos question himself, never before. The man might be having doubts about everything in his life, but he never once voiced it, his stoic nature and great honour not allowing any mistakes or insecurity. Now Athos seemed to be questioning everything he knew all of a sudden, and looking at him as he lay in bed, eyes vacant, far off somewhere, his pale, white skin creating dark contrasts against the dark bruising. 'He looks small' Treville mused as he looked at his leader. 'Like a worried child.'

Athos suddenly turned his head, and Treville realized the man in the bed was actually expecting an answer. Taking a breath, he walked straight back to Athos' side, pushed his hand down on Athos' shoulder and stared straight into his eyes.

"Yes." He took a breath to let it sink in. "Yes, you did. You followed your duty and the honour of your house and person with great sacrifice to your own person. There are not many men I can picture who would be able to fight through an ordeal like that, and still crawl their way out with dignity in store. I don't even want to imagine what it would be like, what you had to endure, and I am proud of you for still being alive and somewhat-sane." A smile formed on Treville's lips at the last words. Athos smiled tentatively.

"Please, I beg of you Athos, don't ever let anyone tell you that you made a mistake. Don't even let yourself raise the thought. There was nothing you could've done differently. It was your duty to uphold the law, and she did kill him. Had you not sentenced her to hang, you would've been. And so would she have been. Your family name would've been dragged through the dirt and your family's honour would've been beyond repairs. You did what you had to."

Athos closed his eyes, and nodded, letting Treville know he was listening. But he really had stopped. It was empty words to him, because if what he did was right – why did it hurt so much?

It had been a beautiful day, a beautiful day with his wife. As they had returned from their ride, they had found Thomas in the garden. He was leaned back against a tree, enjoying the shade it was providing. He had a bottle of wine in his hand and he smirked happily, drunkenly, as Olivier and Anne dismounted and handed their horses to the stable boy. Olivier sighed at the sight of Thomas, and tried to drag Anne away before they had to deal with him, but she was gentler than that. Walking over to Thomas she leaned down and put her hands on top of his head, pulling her fingers through the unruly hair that was in desperate need of a comb. Olivier came up behind her, one arm around her waist and the other hand ready to push Thomas away from her.

"Thomas, I would appreciate if you switched to water for a while." Olivier said. It wasn't a wish, a request, it was an order, and he leaned down and snapped the bottle from Thomas' hand.

Thomas all but exploded, heaving himself up and charging against Olivier, who pushed Anne out of the way before he grabbed onto Thomas. Within the blink of an eye he had Thomas on his knees, his younger brother not as strong as he was, and the wine not helping with coordination. Olivier leaned down and pressed his mouth towards Thomas' ear.

"I have warned you. You get reckless, and dangerous, when you drink. I have heard the stories. I have heard the rumours. I have seen to the bodies. I don't want to disown you simply because you are my brother, but I will not be able to cover your tracks much longer. I have paid for silence so far, but soon there will be a mouth I can't pay for and you will hang, unless you get yourself into shape."

Olivier dropped his brother back into the grass, before wiping his hands off on his breeches, picked the bottle up and turned to Anne. He had spoken quietly, not wanting her to hear, but he was certain that she already knew what Thomas was up to during the nightly raids. It was nothing out of the ordinary that Olivier would be woken by a servant whispering in his ear, and he would go out to the city and save whatever girl Thomas has claimed without permission. Olivier didn't know what to do. He knew what Thomas was doing was not right, it was not honourable, but disowning his own brother? Disowning the man his people had come to love? He was the fool that held the heart to the city while Olivier ruled. But if people knew…

Olivier was still wondering what to do with his brother as the night came closer. Anne had gone to bed already, as Olivier sat down in the library, reading up on tedious but necessary knowledge.

When a screamed echoed through the large estate, the old book landed on the floor. He didn't even notice. Because he knew whom that screamed belonged to, even though he had never, ever heard her scream in terror before.

He did what every husband should be doing upon hearing the scream of his loved one – he ran. He dropped everything and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. All the way down the stairs, down the hallway, through all the doors until reaching their master bedroom.

The sight in front of him almost knocked him to his knees, and he grabbed onto the doorframe to keep himself upright.

Anne was on the floor.

Thomas was on the floor.

Anne was sitting pressed up against a corner, holding a knife in hands that were covered in blood. Her nightgown was torn into shreds, pieces of it still hanging to her slender body, and even in a distance he could see the scratches from nails on her face, chest, arms and thighs.

Thomas was on his back, blood oozing out through a deep cut in his chest. Olivier suddenly felt a grip on his wits, and he hurried to kneel next to his brother, clamping a hand down to his chest. He wasn't all that familiar with injuries, but he could tell this was bad. The ashen colour to Thomas' skin, the blue lips and the amount of blood that he was bathing in… He would be dead within the minute.

Thomas lifted a tired hand, motioning for Olivier to come closer, and the older brother obeyed, leaning down to hear Thomas better. An evil grin came upon Thomas' face as he whispered into Olivier's ear.

"This will be the death of Comte Olivier de la Fére, not of me."

And with that, Thomas wheezed out a heavy breath, and never inhaled again.

Saying d'Artagnan was sore when he awoke was definitely an understatement. His eyes shot open, pain radiating through his body as his muscles cramped violently. He let out a loud groan in pain before clamping his eyes shut, biting his lower lip, his hands gripping fabric, as he fought to push it all aside. He could feel his back arch and his legs trembling out of control.

A hand was suddenly placed on his forehead, giving him something to focus on as the fingers carefully threaded through his hair. Other hands were touching his legs, gently massaging the cramping muscles, base of the thumbs gently - but thoroughly - kneading the muscles in his legs, as well as pulling at them, stretching them out. The pain was excruciating, and even though d'Artagnan knew Aramis was helping him, he could not help himself but to choke down a sob.

"Easy lad, relax. Aramis is helping you, just try to breathe." Porthos whispered, his head close to d'Artagnan, and his voice calming.

"See if he can hold down the drink." Aramis mumbled as he stretched d'Artagnan's legs, trying to make the muscles ease up on some of the tension. D'Artagnan was unintentionally kicking towards Aramis, his body trying to rid of the pain, and Aramis was having a difficult job trying to hold on and help him. Porthos nodded as he took the cup standing next to the bed, a mixture Aramis had made in preparations earlier, before he placed a big hand behind d'Artagnan's neck, getting a firm grip, then pressing the cup to d'Artagnan's lips.

"Here boy, drink, it's good for you."

D'Artagnan didn't really drink as much as he choked it down, feeling how the thick liquid got stuck into his throat and threatened to come straight back up. Aramis was suddenly up by his head, a hand clamped down covering his mouth.

"Swallow. I'm sorry d'Artagnan, but you must swallow. Right there, you can do it."

Tears were making their way out by the corners of his eyes, and d'Artagnan locked his eyes with Aramis' as he fought down the liquid. He knew he had to, but his entire body tried to repel it over and over again, until it finally went down, leaving him breathless and wheezing. Aramis removed his hand, and brushed it off against a piece of cloth next to the bed, before giving d'Artagnan a squeeze on the shoulder.

"Well done. It will help with the pain, just try to relax."

D'Artagnan nodded as he closed his eyes, focusing on breathing as Aramis went back to his legs, continuing to stretch the muscles out while massaging them gently, trying to ease the ache. He was too tired, in too much pain, and as he closed his eyes his body just slumbered into darkness yet again.

Next time he woke was better. Not good, but better. He was alone this time, and sunlight was brightly shining through the window. He brought a heavy hand to his face and rubbed it in a movement of trying to remove some of the burning headache, before taking a deep breath, and in a quick rush he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Every part of his body was telling him to lay back down, but he had a mission he wanted done with, and he needed to find his brothers.

Getting up he forced his body to manoeuvre over to his clothes, and promptly got dressed before walking down the hallway. His legs were trembling and sore, as if he had been running all day and all night, but Aramis had once told him that the best way to rid off sore muscles were to use them. So he forced himself to.

He worked his way through the hallway until he found a dining room, and upon entering he could see Aramis and Porthos sitting by the table, along with Madame Simone Sergeant, the governess and maid. He couldn't tell what they had been talking about, but upon his arrival, all three heads turned his direction, and Aramis was instantly on his feet.

"D'Artagnan! I didn't expect you up and about just yet. How are you feeling?"

"Better than earlier." D'Artagnan said, managing a small smile in an attempt to wash the worry off Aramis' face. It worked well as Aramis broke out into a large smile, a hand gripping d'Artagnan's elbow as he guided him to sit by the table.

"Madame." D'Artagnan greeted politely, giving her a small bow of his head before sitting down.

"Please call me Simone. You are brothers of Olivier, Athos I mean, therefore we are family." She smiled politely as she moved the little basket of bread over to d'Artagnan. He returned her smile as he dug into the bread and food on the table, his stomach rolling over in hunger.

"What brings us the pleasure of your company, Simone?" He asked in between bites.

"Chew before you talk son." Simone immediately told him, a finger in warning raised. D'Artagnan immediately blushed at his lack of manners, and swallowed promptly before apologizing. "It's quite alright. I want to help in any way I can. I'm not sure if I will be able to help you, but I figured I could at least come by with lunch."

"You have already helped us a lot by explaining to us what we are up against." Aramis said as he was slumbered back into his chair. Simone looked over to him, and by the look on her face he immediately straightened his back to sit properly on the chair. "Although, all information we can receive about Isaac would be helpful. We had a run in yesterday with three men, and they were shot dead before we had a chance to talk to them."

"Any man raiding on this land, and least right now, will either be doing it for Isaac, or Isaac will deal with them himself. He has gathered a small army and seems to be sending out three or four at the time. If you managed three of them, I'm certain he will send a bigger party next time."

"What does he want with us? Kill us? If he wanted us dead, I'm certain he could've killed us by now, just as easy as he killed the three men last night." Aramis pondered, not really liking to be so uncertain of his own safety.

"I do not believe he wants you dead, but I do believe he wants you hostage. You will know just as well as I do, and Isaac does, that Athos will return the minute he can. He will not be able to leave the lands of La Fére, and he will not be able to leave you behind. The moment he can sneak out of Paris he will be riding in here to help out. And that is what Isaac is waiting for, he is waiting for Athos return so that he can kill you in front of him."

Silenced followed Simone's words.

"Doesn't that seem a little… harsh?" Porthos mumbled as he looked around the table.

"Perhaps. But Isaac lost everything when Athos disowned him. He watched his family die, and then he lost his name, his brothers, his rights and everything else he held. Athos spent years questioning if he was too harsh, if he had done the right choice, and I kept telling him that he did. And even if he hadn't, it would be too late to change anything."

"You told us Isaac watched while his parents died, and Athos could've died too that day from what we understood. Isaac was a coward, hiding instead of helping." D'Artagnan said quietly as he looked up. He knew he would, and had when needed, always stand up in a fight rather than run away and hide.

"You must remember that Isaac was not even 15 years of age. He was merely a child still. He had never witnessed violence or fear, and as it all came upon him at once, his instincts were to hide. Yours are to fight, and that's what makes you into soldiers."

No one interrupted, instead they let Simone continue. "I still, to this day, think Athos made the right decision in sending Isaac on his way. A man who won't stand up for his own family has no right of nobility. Not everyone agreed with me. A lot of people of the town talked about Athos behind his back, about how he let his parents die, and then disowned a boy who was like a brother to him. 'Thomas would never do anything like that.' It hit Athos very hard when his people seemed to turn away from him, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. That's when he turned to the bottle. I did everything I could, but nothing I said would have an effect on him, and I watched in terror how he sunk before my eyes. And that's when Anne arrived to the town. She was looking for shelter, and I invited her into the house. It was love at first sight when Athos laid eyes upon her. She saved his life… And then the destroyed it."

"We know the role Anne has played in Athos' life." Aramis said carefully. "Does she have a part in this, this happening now?"

"It has not been confirmed, but we do believe she is plotting alongside Isaac. We've been told Athos told her to leave the country, but we have no proof of her leaving. Rumours have said there's a fair, and beautiful lady by Isaac's side, a woman who never shows her face."

"Do you think she's foolish enough to show herself in La Fére? She appears to be more hated here than Athos ever was." D'Artagnan chipped in, confusion in his face.

"I do believe she is helping Isaac, and when the big battle arrives she will let the two of them at it before she steps in. The two of them wants to bring Athos down, both of them loved him, and are hurting. They must've found a mutual connection there, and begun forming a plan. But this is all a rumour. There is no way to actually find out, she is a master of disguise."

"So, all we can really do, is wait for them to attack, try to get to Isaac, and wait for Athos to arrive?" Porthos mumbled, frowning as he didn't like it one bit.

"Isaac will not attack you himself, in fear of getting caught, but I am certain he will send out more and more men to try and take you hostage. His initial plan will be to kill you, but he will not want it to happen before Athos arrives."

"Well, that's a comfort." Aramis grinned, looking around the table. "I guess we just have to stay alive until Athos comes to join us."

"Ne m'oubliez pas."
– "Don't Forget Me", the French name of Anne's signature flower Forget-me-not.

"'You are resting next to me, and I can feel, how you are breathing.
To be loved by you, is the most beautiful to me.
It's so magical as the morning fog lifts, and see the darkness slowly escape,
watching a new day dawn.
A chilly morning breeze makes its way through the room,
and I move closer to you, happy to have you near.
Moments of serenity, a second of peace sometimes,
moments of happiness, to only be with each other.
It is a richness, to love, and to be loved.
Our love's gentleness is the most beautiful thing to me.'"
– Lyrics from a song called "Det Vackraste" ("The Most Beautiful"), performed by Cecilia Vennersten. I took the liberty of translating it to English.