King Louis looked out the window and chewed on his thumbnail as the rains hit the glass. He could feel the musketeer Aramis, Treville and Richelieu's presence behind him. Their words penetrated his mind like an axe to wood. Tears threatened to fall, but he held them back. He would not allow himself to look weak, not now, not yet, not while the possibility of Anne's survival was still feasible.

He sat at the long table. A fire blazed behind him warming the room, and he listened to the story and the fate of those within the monastery. Innocent lives had been lost; all because of a perception of unfairness.

Because of taxes.

Louis shifted his feet, stood, and caught a glimpse of the guards standing at the doors. Their immaculate uniforms seemed out of place amongst the chaos of his mind, but he appreciated the order, the continuity, and routine of their presence.

"There is still a chance —"

"What chance, Treville?" Louis snapped. He lowered his hand and pressed his finger against the raw edge of his thumb. "What chance does my queen have at surviving men who meant her harm? Of a fire that nearly destroyed the monastery in its entirety, and falling beams from ceilings?" His voice was desperate, accusatory, and he slapped his hands against his thighs when he turned to face the fire. He looked over his shoulder and said, "And your man, Athos? There is not a sign of him either?"

"No, Sire."

Louis flared his nostrils and clinched his jaw. "If he shows up here without her…" he clenched his fist and pointed angrily toward the floor. "He will hang — I don't care about the reason — I don't care if he tried to save… her." He turned suddenly back toward the fire.

Aramis flexed his jaw and swallowed. He looked at Treville, who sent him a strong warning, and exhaled slowly.

"Athos is a man of honor, Your Majesty. He would never arrive here without her."

"What is the chance they may have gotten out alive?"

Treville looked at Richelieu, who cocked an eyebrow and then shook his head. "From what I understand… the chances of them escaping would have been low."

Louis inhaled sharply and pressed a cupped hand to his forehead. He thought for a long moment with closed eyes and appreciated the heat of the flames on his face. "She has never carried a child to term." He forced a desperate smile as though trying to hide the severity of his pain. "This one would have survived… it was a boy," he said. "I know it was a boy."

"Sire," Richelieu said and cleared his throat. "We're still uncertain of the outcome. Perhaps instead of speaking of them in the past tense, we can focus on the possibility that the queen has survived —"

"Then where is she!" Louis turned suddenly and looked at the cardinal, who pursed his lips and stepped back with a slight bow. "She should be here by my side! What now, Cardinal? What now? What happens to France if I cannot produce an heir? What happens to my legacy… my father's legacy?"

"I think we need to reconsider the options to you—"

"What options?" Louis walked back toward the window in a huff. "I want everyone involved in this arrested? I want them brought before me to face judgment! There is more to this… this… revolt than a few deserters and farmers!"

"Our men are searching for any survivors—"

"I don't care what it takes, Treville," Louis said. "I don't care how long it takes! I want them all found and I want them all punished. No-one takes my queen, no-one threatens their king — I will not stand for it!" He again pressed the cup of his hand to his forehead.

"Majesty?"

Louis closed his eyes and fought back the pain that cursed him. Blood pounding at his temples, the raging emotions that were tearing him apart, the fear of leading a nation alone had him fighting with himself as much as anyone else. He thought about his father and how they differed in managing such situations. He imagined his father organizing guards to search for his bride, searching for the perpetrators, and suffering the consequences. King Henri would have ridden out in search of his queen, he would have found her and brought her home. He would have encompassed the very principal of leadership and royalty. Louis suddenly felt inadequate and despite being surrounded by men he trusted, he felt very much alone.

"What will I do without her?" Louis mumbled. "What will become of me?"

"Sire?" Richelieu said. "Allow us to fetch Dr. Lemay. He arrived here with the earlier detachment."

Louis nodded and he listened as someone quickly exited the room and he felt a gust of fresh air hit his face.

"I'm not a fearful man, Treville," Louis said. He looked at the captain and then the cardinal. "At least I try not to be."

"You're in turmoil, Majesty," Richelieu said. "Anyone facing this kind of situation would be."

"I'm not anyone," Louis said. "I'm the king. Things like this shouldn't happen to kings… shouldn't happen to their queens." He lowered his hand to his side and looked again out the window. "I almost lost her a few months ago… it nearly devastated me… and now…"

There was a long pause. Treville glanced at Aramis, and then looked at Richelieu, who looked at him in question. What could they say? What could they do? It was times like this when the unknown was just as devastating as knowing, and sometimes worse. The knowing allowed for closure… the waiting left too many questions unanswered.