I almost didn't get this posted today... I spilled juice on my keypad (guess what I get to do tonight).

Here we go...

Athos felt his feet grow numb with each painful step as the distance increased. Anne rode in silence, but Athos knew she was suffering, battling her own discomfort and the cold. They continued their journey along the water's edge, staying out of sight of Souders and his men, while searching for the old barn with a collapsed roof. The speed of the river worried him and Athos watched the water slap the sides of the banks. He wanted to get to the rise before the storm hit, before the water rose and increased the speed in which it flowed. The higher and faster the water, the more difficult and deadly it would be to cross.

They had each remained quiet on the journey, but Athos had noticed Anne tucking her hands into the folds of her gown when her fingers grew cold, and touching her cheeks and nose to warm them. While her hair covered her ears and the fur cloak protected her neck and shoulders, it did little to provide the warmth she needed. The chill had a way of stealing what remaining strength they both had left.

"There," Anne said, and pointed into the distance. "I can see it, the old barn."

Athos nodded, gripped the reins a little tighter, and continued. A flock of birds flew from the branches of a skeletal oak tree to their right and then flew in a uniformed formation across the river and continued northward. A deer and two fawns jumped from a bush, startled the mare, and fled into the distance. Anne stayed seated, but gripped the pommel of the saddle and exhaled slowly. She was an accomplished rider, and under normal circumstances the mare's sudden jump wouldn't have phased her, but she had struggled and nearly slipped out of the saddle.

Athos adjusted his footing, clasped his hand tightly on the lead, and said, "Majesty?"

"I'm all right," she said. "It just startled me." She exhaled slowly. "I will be grateful to arrive… I miss the comforts of warm fires and spiced wine." Anne watched Athos misstep once more and quickly recover himself. "Perhaps we could stop at the barn and rest for a while?" She knew, like herself, that he was struggling. Though he would never admit it, admit his need for rest or a hearty meal, or a good night sleep, she could see the exhaustion in his eyes, and his even in his steps as he stumbled more frequently.

Athos pointed again toward the sky that continued to darken and the black clouds that followed. "We need to beat that storm, Your Majesty." He looked at her and said, "We're in no condition to withstand it — not without shelter."

Anne looked in the direction. She knew he was right, and she understood his urgency. She cleared her throat and, in an effort to keep them occupied, asked, "The other day…" she paused, debating her sensibilities in asking him the question. In part, she was curious, but it also allowed her a different perspective, different choices. "When I asked you if you had ever loved someone you could not have." She paused and collected her thoughts and watched Athos' jaw tighten in anticipation of her question. He had always been a quiet man, speaking only when needed. She respected that about him. She had met many men and women who enjoyed the sounds of their own voices, but Athos was less about wanting to be heard than speaking the truth. With only a few words, he could challenge motivations and ideals, and depending on the audience, his words could be considered offensive. She took a deep breath and said, "Do you miss her?" She knew he had lied, not because of his reaction, but rather his lack of it.

Athos winced, tightened his hands around the reins and felt the pain of his ankles, his knees, and his ribs protest at their constant abuse. He licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and looked toward the old barn as it came into view when they rounded a turn. Softly, but with a hint of remorse, he said, "I miss parts of her." He looked toward the river and watched a broken branch sweep along the surface and then disappear below it. "I miss her laugh."

Anne thought he might say something more, but the muscles of his jaw — despite his beard — were evident. She rubbed at the fabric of her dress between her fingers. She had heard Aramis laugh only a few times, and it was usually with Porthos: random moments of humor at the palace when they believed they were alone or out of earshot. The two of them were known for their wagering. Right after d'Artagnan had joined them, winter had been harsh and a sudden cold snap had caused standing water and snow to freeze. D'Artagnan had stepped off the bottom step leading to the gardens and hit a patch of ice. The young man had slid like butter off a hot knife across the walkway and landed in a heap near the feet of Richelieu, who had simply rolled his eyes in annoyance and continued his journey toward the palace. When he too fell, arms splayed, his robe flying like a flag temporarily caught in the wind. D'Artagnan had gotten to his feet, tried to assist Richelieu, but once again slipped. It had been a comedy of errors as both men struggled to their feet and tripped over one another. Porthos had happily taken several coins off of Aramis with each sad attempt, and Anne could only guess what the wager had been, but the look of humiliation on Richelieu and d'Artagnan's faces was enough to cause her to giggle while watching from the palace doors. Aramis had roared in laughter and then quickly made his escape once Treville and Athos arrived to help.

"Laughter of the ones you love leaves a lasting impression," Anne said fondly.

Athos winced.

"If you could… would you walk away from something you loved for someone you loved?"

Her words were like daggers in his gut. There wasn't any malice in her questions, but they struck Athos hard and reopened over every wound Milady had left him with. The love he had felt for her, the passion of their marriage, the dreams of what could have been and then, as though the fire had been stomped out, it was gone. Athos knew the queen was speaking of herself and not of him, she was thinking about Aramis, the man she wanted but could not have, and while in books and fairy tales the romance was something to be treasured and adored the reality of it was anything but. Aramis and the queen had done something that could devastate the king, crush the relationship with Spain and the Empire, and devastate those who had trusted them.

"No, I don't believe I could, Your Majesty," Athos said somberly. He had always advocated for truth, but the moment was wrong, and as difficult as it was to ignore the answer to her question, the pain of answering it honestly caused him to feel out of sort, remorseful, and devastated. He chose at the moment to ignore the question and focus his attention on the water.

Athos walked faster toward the barn built of river-rock, mud, and had for a time supported a thatched roof. The door was missing and portions of the roof were visible. The ground near the water had been traveled many times, stones were embedded, narrow channels where wheels had trenched had dried from the heat of the summer months and the water had not risen enough to hide them. Large stones, boulders, and branches lay tangled along the passage.

"I'm going to take a closer look at the water and see how troublesome the crossing might be." He turned and looked at her. "It may be too treacherous for you to ride across."

"I'll need to walk?" Anne's voice grew uncertain as she looked at the water and felt the chill of the wind against her skin.

Athos, with a look of concern, said, "If the mare can manage the stones, I would suggest you ride." He handed Anne the reins, gently gripped her hands, and felt the chill of her fingers. "We're almost to the chateau."

Anne nodded and watched Athos walk toward the river. He squatted, tossed a handful of dried grass onto the water and watched it flow along the current. He looked for swells, for stones under water that forced the river to take shape, and he searched for indications of unseen hazards that could cause him and the mare to stumble and fall. Crossing wouldn't be an issue for a team of horses pulling a cart or wagon, but for a single horse and a man crossing on foot, it could prove challenging.

Athos knew he was in no shape to carry her. Not with his ankle, bruised ribs, or his lack of strength. He had tried to hide what he could from her, but he knew he was fading. They were less than half a league away. He looked over his shoulder toward the queen as she looked into the distance. He rubbed his face, took a deep breath, and slowly stood.

The mare perked her ears forward when Athos approached, and he ran his hand along the ridge of her nose.

"We'll walk slowly," Athos said. "I'll walk beside you —"

"Athos?"

"The mare is surefooted, but if you feel as though you might fall, we'll stop until she's stable."

Anne felt her heart constrict, and she instinctively placed her hand on her belly. She swallowed and then nodded once. She tried to keep her hands from shaking and she looked at the water as it gently slapped the sides of the bank. The dark clouds in the distance grew closer. Anne knew they didn't have much time. She watched Athos loop a lead to the mare's noseband with the intent of leading her across while Anne continued to hold the reins.

As they approached the water, Anne adjusted her cloak in hopes of not losing it during the ride, and then gripped the reins with one hand and a handful of the mare's mane in the other.

Athos kept a steady hand on the lead. The little mare flickered her ears and entered the water in stride with him. He slipped occasionally when the stones beneath the surface shifted beneath his weight. The mare lowered her head, adjusted her weight and struggled beside him. Anne held tight.

A sudden gust of wind caused the branches to sway, the dried weeds and grasses to bow, and the water's surface to ripple. Anne gasped when her cloak, caught in the wind, fluttered and waved behind her and then suddenly fell away to her right. She reached for it, but once the hem hit the water, the weight and speed were too strong for her to manage.

Athos shifted, felt the mare suddenly stumble toward him and knock him off balance. He fell to his left knee. The mare regained her footing, and Athos managed to grab her neck and stand. Anne clutched the pommel of the saddle while holding her breath. It was a moment frozen in time, and unsure of the next move, Anne exhaled through puffed cheeks and then looked at Athos, who stood next to the mare. His pants were wet, and he tightened the fingers of his left hand above his knee.

"Athos?" Anne asked, and tightened her hold on the pommel and the reins. She looked toward him, watched him slowly relax and adjust his footing.

Athos closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and fought the cold, the wet, and his pain. "Are you hurt, Your Majesty?" he asked and looked at her. He slipped his fingers beneath the mare's mane and gripped the crest of her neck. He had seen Anne's cloak get caught in the current when it startled the mare and looped around her back legs before floating down river.

"No," Anne said. "Not at all." She shivered and held tight to the reins. "You?"

"I'm fine," Athos said, and then tugged on the mare's mane and lead, and limped forward. Water splashed, and then suddenly, as the weather slowly changed, they stepped onto dry land. Anne took a deep sigh of relief and closed her eyes. She had always considered herself a strong woman, but as she sat in the saddle, the hem of her gown was wet, her cloak was gone, and she shivered against the cold, she wanted to cry and again she pressed her hand to her belly as she thought about the child growing inside her.

The fear of losing him.

"Majesty?" Athos asked.

Anne wiped at the tears across her cheeks and then took several deep breaths. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Without question, or concern for himself, he handed her his doublet.

"Put this on," Athos said. "It will keep you warm."

Her chin quivered, nostrils flared, and she subtly nodded. "Thank you." She knew what it was costing him when she slipped it on. It was much too large for her slight frame, but the sleeves covered her arms, and the warmth of the leather against her skin felt good. She met his eyes and then, without another word, Athos led the mare toward the chateau.